Spokenlist March '05

No animals were harmed during the making of this list. . .

1. BRIAN JONESTOWN MASSACRE
2. Kings of Leon "The Bucket"
3. Naked juice
4. Cheesesteaks
5. "Vertigo"
6. Dali
7. Repo Records
8. Queens of the Stone Age Lullabies to Paralyze
9. 24 Hour Party People
10.Dig
11."Casino of the Sun" by Jerry Williams
12.MA/CW
13.eMac!
14.Dr. House
15.chicken wings
16.Solomon Burke
17.Hitchcock
18.Kangol Hats
19."The Rum Diary" by Hunter S. Thompson
20.The Salvation Army
21.Ramones "Bonzo Goes to Bitzburg"
22.Cat Stevens "The Wind"
23.The Commitments
24. toasted Subway Subs
25. Keith Richards


pm soundtrack: the replacments!!!!

bonzo goes to bitzburg!

frustrated (in all the forms you could possibly consider, dear reader). . .burned out. . .tired. . .cranky. . .craving bacon. . .

I can't seem to get the motor running post-Easter break. Lethergy has nested like an in-law staying for an "extended weekend" and I focus has gone out the window. I have to work through it, like I always do, yes? Anyway you slice it, I have got to crank up the demon-engine this weekend and just get shit done. . .

more later.


am soundtrack: paul westerberg-14 songs; ramones-mania; mooney suzuki-people get ready; the la's-s/t; brian jonestown massacre-thank god for mental illness

dali, vegan cheesesteaks, and rain

I went to the Salvador Dali exhibit on Monday with my Oklahoman friend Mischelle. . . it is a must see. Spent almost three hours in the exhibit. It is running until May 15, you can check it out here. Mischelle had never been to the City of Brotherly Love so we hung out on South Street, checked out Repo Records and other music joints, ate good Mexican food and enjoyed the last real day off I will have until sometime in 2007. Mischelle also discovered the joy of a Philly Cheesesteak. . .well a vegan one. . . (NO COMMENT). It also pissed rain the whole day. It didn't matter a good time was had by all!

Back to the swing and grind!

am soundtrack: brian jonestown massacre and this is our music; eno another green world; leonard cohen greatest hits; zz hill greatest hits; yo la tango i can hear the heart beat as one

return of the mack

so. . . been without dsl for a whole week almost due to tech problems. . .argh. this is not good since i'm working on a masters degree that requires most of the classwork to be done through a dedicated self-contained url. . .bad juju. . .

been off of work since thursday and i love it. i have been a huge slacker. no work, no school, just poetry and movies and hanging out. . . good times.

mischelle was the feature last night @ test pattern: awesome stuff. i was working with her a little bit this week helping fine tune her material--like she really needed it--but she was great onstage!

going out for a pint? perhaps. . . let the slacking continue!


today's soundtrack: brian jonestown massacre tepid pepermint wonderland; jeff buckley grace; air moon safari; queens of the stone age lullabies to paralyze; at the drive in relationship of command; the who sings my generation; small faces ogden's nut gone flake; iron and wine our endless numbered days; stone roses s/t; dave brubeck time out; my bloody valentine loveless

busy

up to my neck in stuff to do: grad school, grad asst, tss, poetry, satan, taxes. . . goddamn busy. a good tired but tired none the less. the first round of burnout is hitting which is about right, it's coming half way through the semester. . .natural. next week i'm taking a five-day break from all of the nonsense to regroup and get away. . . maybe nyc, or boston or philly or downtown hoboken--one can never really tell. . . that's all i got.

today's soundtrack: snow patrol final straw; morrissey you are the quarry; all american rejects s/t; comas conductor; jesse malin fine art of self destruction; tom waits real gone; beatles 1; ramones leave home; smashing pumpkins gish

bergman, envelopes, and morning glory

brady's leap was amazaing last night--kind of a pogues bend with a stronger dramatic sense. phil brady's ability to live inside the poetry is otherworldly--plus he blows harp. lots of fun and a late night--slept through my alarm this morning 3x--couldn't get out of bed to save my life. ergo, i am stuffing envelopes in the office right now. needed a little break from the labeling gig--it's cool though: a good tired.

i feel like everything is really falling into place for me right now--like everything that has happened has lead me to the next two years of my life. i honestly believe that by the time i finish my m.a. in creative writing, i will be moving in a direction that there's no turning back from--and that's a good thing. . . was listening to springsteen's live version of "growing up" and he talks about how his family wanted him to be either an author or a lawyer--in order to "get a little something for yourself," He pauses and then he says "what they didn't realize is that i wanted it all." I can relate. i want the whole shoot match out of life--and i will not compromise any aspect of aspiration. the crazy part about it is i feel so close, the chase continues but the pace has quickened. . .what a great time to be in the world. . . i am a lame bastard! who cares!

more later

today's soundtrack: nick drake-bryter layter; joss stone-soul sessions ep; ray lamontange-trouble; jimmy scott-holding back the years; tim hardin-reason to believe; bruce springsteen-live 75-85; rolling stones-exile on main street; uncle tupelo-no depression; jesse malin-fine art of destruction; snow patrol-final straw; paul westerberg-stereo/mono

so tired, my mind is on the brink. . .

damn. working like a fiend today--very busy. brady's leap: a folk/poetry group from youngstown state is playing @ wilkes today and i've been on the roadie runaround--frantic but fun. ass was draging by 10:30 this morning, not good. took a power nap @ my desk--dr. lennon made a reference to morpheus, frost, and ricky nelson in one afternoon--outstanding. when i grow up, i want to be as cools as dr. j. michael lennon!

i did sleep last night; one of those stone dead forever sleeps where you don't even turn or move for five hours or so. . . woke up sore; however feel very tired today, need rest.

and it ain't coming my way. f#@k.

today's soundtrack: bruce springsteen-nebraska; beatles-1; ryan adams mix; teenagefanclub-grand prix; comas-conductor; skatellites-ball of fire; the jam-beat surender

healthfood-?

so i'm eating healthier food. . . kind of scary. last night i ate a whole meal without any trace of meat. i feel like i've let the meat industry down. . . a sell-out, a benedict arnold, a judas. . . the worst part about it was the fact that i didn't really notice there wasn't any meat. . . scary shit to say the least. . .

mischelle introduced me to this fruit drink called naked--it has a pound of fruit in every bottle!! crazy stuff but really tasty. . .i crave it several times a day. i crave naked. . . yeah that doesn't sound good at all does it?

more later

am soundtrack: bruce springsteen nebraska; ben e. king spanish harlem/don't play that song

record fair

wow. i really dislike music geeks. i know that i am one and maybe this is an exercise in self-loathing but this record fair always reminds me of two things: 1. there is life beyond wax and aluminum 2. to shower regularly. is it so goddamn hard to put on a pair of jeans people? sweatpants or bootcuts--mullets or mods--either so damn hip their scoffing at how ten seconds ago they were or so damn scruffy that they didn't realize 1975 was thirty years ago. and here i am, with jay in tow. where do we fit into this rabble? i hope we don't, but we will be lumped into this morass of subculture.

there were two younger girls there, very cute and bubbly--poor fools. i am sure they now smell like burnt cheese and day old budwiser. . . ten minutes in the joint and i remember why i stopped working in a record store. these are my people? no wonder i'm a f%*k-up and reclusive.

what's worse is there is this sense of aristocracy that comes from these people--goddamn know-it alls who have nothing better to do than to tell you why your purchase of joe cocker's classics 4 pales in comparisson to the a&m anthology, like i am some bumpkin. or worse, there was this guy who sold jay a misfits boxset without a pin. he tried to tell us that "the pin only came with the first pressing--" why not be honest with us? why did he have to flat out lie? so i had to tell him and the entire row of his customers that he "was full of horseshit." these people bite.

i am going to the airport to pick up mischelle in a couple of hours. . . until then naptime!

am soundtrack: joe cocker classic vol.4; redd kross born innocent; comas conductor; misfits boxset; black flag the first four years; pulp different class

sketch ten

Maybe the title is the first thing you should write,
it gives you direction, gives a heading to the course.
but maybe it's about being lost, tossed into the mix
the thick middle of a circumstance beyond titles,
names get in the way here, why give a clue--

should the out be easier than the in?

a good reader should lose sleep over good poems,
especailly when the writer abuses the audicence
gives no direction, no purpose and no helping hand.

hope is there for the claiming,
like a dishonest lost and found,
like liar's poker on a sunday morning.
if you can't trust the press to run inkly smudged
then the line would always be blury regardless.

maybe the title is the last thing you write,
a summary, a nice happy ending
with whipped topping.
give your audience a chance to turn back
by knowing the answer before the question:

interpretation gets all manners of faith into trouble anyway.



latenight soundtrack: teenage fanclub grand prix; natelie merchant tigerlilly; cat stevens best of; tim hardin reason to believe; nick cave and the bad seeds no more shall we part

cleaning house

cleaned my car, my bathroom, my kitchen, took out the trash, emptied all the paper and nonsense out of backseat, vaccumed, bought lightbulbs, made a meatsauce from scratch-- it was about as domestic as i'll ever get today. felt good to get things straightened out before the work week comes back around. . . needed distraction today. . . needed mindless today. . . sometimes i spend too much time thinking. it is the bi-product of being an only child/geekboy from the middle of nowhere. in danville all i had was time alone. it definately shaped who i am and how i watch the world at large. . . made me inwardly motivated if not outwardly awkward. them's the breaks, right?

spent a lot of time on grad school today--reading, reading, reading. i've got some poem sketches floating around in my head, maybe i'll post them later--dunno. . .we'll see. . .

lots of smashing pumpkins and green day in the stereo. . . being really riffing on "cherub rock," i listened to that song a couple times today. it's like a good itch to scratch. . .yeah. . .

record fair tomorrow. . .i am crawling out of my skin in anticipation. been waiting for sunday for days now. . . at least ten of 'em. . .

more later.

today's soundtrack: green day warning/kerplunk/dookie; smashing pumpkins siamese dream/mellon collie and the infinite sadness; r.e.m. monster; tim hardin reason to believe; husker du metal circus ep; bad religion stranger than fiction; bruce springsteen nebraska

barnes and noble reading

tonight's reading was very quick for ol' b&n--it seems that people are just showing up later and later nowadays--in the end there was probably 15-20 people in attendence throughout. the set up was real odd too--a "in the round" kind of vibe. oh well. read new material, made an ass of myself, plugged upcoming readings--the same old same old. some new faces tonight--a couple of h.s.-er's making their second consecutive appearance: it's good to see new blood getting a chance to get over the fear of reading in front of this kind of public audience. it's the vibe we have formed at this reading: very open, very positive--hopefully without getting the "touchy-feely-cardigan-and-aura-reading" vibe. it's still my favorite reading because not everyone is there to hear poems--getting someone to sit and check poetry out (to me) is just flat out awesome. a lady sat through the entire reading, and actually had a good time. will she be out again? doesn't matter--for one night, she was exposed to live poetry--and i think she connected to the energy in some sort of way.

enough soapbox. . .i can't help it: i love poetry and i love being an mc.

more later

todays soundtrack: jeff buckley sketches for my sweetheart the drunk; the jayhawks blue earth; smashing pumpkins siamese dream; aretha franklin aretha arrives/areath now!/lady soul; travis the man who; charles mingus this is jazz; john coltrane ole coltrane; whiskeytown faithless street; teenage fanclub grand prix; tom waits rain dogs

getting lost

the number one reason i'm late for anything comes down to this: i have too many cd's and it causes for long deliberated choices on what goes with me. i can't leave the house without three cd's regardless of where i'm going. i have tried to plan out what will go with me to work, but somewhere in the eight hours between selections, i have totally changed my mind. granted, there are some cd's that get on streaks with me--beit because they are new (mars volta frances the mute, kings of leon aha shake heartbreak) or classic (the beatles rubber soul, the replacements entire catalog) or just mood/phase (my seasonal jazz phase): lots of noise and nonsense.

today i rediscovered the no alternative compliation. c'mon soul asylum doing "sexual healing!" YES!!! plus matthew sweet, the breeders, buffalo tom, urge overkill, pavement, soundgarden! how about uncle tupelo tearing through ccr's "effigy." a goddamn gem of a disc.

it's amazing how well the songs of our youth hold up--there is something so intuitive to these songs, these bands: they become latched to your genetic make-up. the music, i mean the music that really defined your teen years and became your soundtrack, never truly loses its hold on you. granted, there are bands from high school that i don't listen to and think "yes, i am still down with Morbid Angel." such artists were only peripheral to your sense of self--a sidebar or a phase--something to measure that first big "hair on the back of your neck" rush meaningful music gave you. for me, it was roy orbison--hearing "just running scared" at the age of twelve ignited a life-long persuit to chase that sensation not only in what i was spinning on a stereo but in creating my own poetry.

the sensation of "your music" gets intensified by discovering bands in your now. i came of age with grunge and britpop, and like a good gen x-er i bought my nirvana and oasis cd's but i also grew up with bands like bad religion, beck, mudhoney, rancid, green day, supergrass, stone roses, fugazi, weezer, uncle tupelo (later wilco and son volt), social distortion, smashing pumpkins, gorilla biscuits (later quicksand and rival schools), tori amos, blur, nine inch nails, the pixies, the jayhawks, jeff buckley, rem, radiohead--music either starting, striving, or peaking during formative years. i remember thinking at the time how left out i felt--missing the replacements, black flag, bad brains, the clash, hell punk in general. now i think about my high school/college music life and only now i am getting a sense of what i had growing up around me. . . damn, i was lucky.

do yourself a favor, dig out (or buy) an old cd from the salad days. treat it like an old flame and you'll be surprised the love it reveals. . .

today's soundtrack: no alternative compilation, smashing pumpkins gish; urge overkill stull ep; liz phair exile in guyville; aimee mann whatever; fugazi repeater; radiohead the bends; paul westerberg 14 songs; my bloody valentine loveless; d generation no lunch; weezer pinkerton

the abbey road theory proven once again

had a bad day unitl i got home and was greeted by books! books! books! and a twilight zone dvd! bibbi sent me a literary care package--as if she knew today flat out sucked (in a very physically painful way to boot) for me. you rock, bibbi!

i am truly blessed to have such family out there taking care of me. the amount of love and friendship offered to me never ceases to amaze me--people like jay, bibbi, andrea, bobby t, mischelle (and too many more to ever fully list here) are the kind of souls that defy the definiton of words like friend or family. i love them more than i could ever say.

so why was my day so bad? who f$@king cares!

today's soundtrack: nick cave and the bad seeds best of; tommy stinson village gorilla head; iron and wine our endless numbered days; at the drive in relationship of command; frente labour of love ep; elton john madman across the water; john coltrane and johnny hartman; mojo presents raw soul; rushmore original motion picture soundtrack;

sketch 9

i made wishes,
you made sacrifices:
these are the safe
devices of being
instead of becoming.
in a cornered way
you have become
the trapped copy
of 8x11
entanglements
but i will always
margin walk to
meet wide rule lines
on such red
letter days.

you
build muscle
around my paper heart,
give pulse-

i build words
beyond my crippled voice
take impulse-

in the twists of roads
imperfect tenses
relax the jawline,
and
carve calm into the
unsteady meter of
imperfect poetry

once steady,
two blue lines will
drift from paralell
to their eventual
intersection,
a naturalizing bend
(in) path, direction, location. . .

pm soundtrack: miles davis in a silent way; lucero that much further west; small faces s/t; beatles for sale/help; jellyfish bellybutton; joss stone soul sessions ep; rem reckoning

near death experience theater!

so i was kinda over my flu with the exception of the whole-stomach burning from the inside out thing and i decided to be jay's navagator to philly int'l airport. we left by about 430 and got there by around 630--which meant we had two options: hangout until everything opened or go the hell home. we chose option 3--almost end up in trenton nj! we got a little lost coming out of the airport but we did end up in lovely bensalem PA, home of nifty fifty's family fun diner. i had a cheesesteak and fries--the first real food i've had in almost three days. . .still in my stomach as we speak! we were so tired and just plain miserable at the turn our morning took, we decided to venture back homeward--

then the F%$KING SNOW CAME!

at first it was raining "dipping dots" but by the time we hit the leigh tunnel, it was snow squallin' like gangbusters! we were almost clipped on several occasions. . .not fun at all. the last ten miles to the turnpike exit had 0 visability and a semi that couldn't decide which lane to be in--so it just kinda drifted from one to the other.

wilkes-barre was a little better and we bummed around just trying to calm down from the near death we almost tasted. . .worst philly trip ever? you f*#king bettcha!!

it's hard to believe that we have already been going strong for over eight hours! damn! oh yeah, still kinda feel like a sack-o-crap.

more later. . .going to go have heartattack now. . .

am soundtrack: beatles white album/rubber soul; mitch hedberg; green day american idiot; ramones mania;

the cramps stay sick but i don't

fever broke, feeling better or at least good enough to co-pilot jay to philly int'l airport. dropping off bob and our friend megan. . . should be interesting. stomach still not wonderful but good enough can't let a pal fly solo, right? hmm. . . cheesesteak? perhaps. . .

more later

afterhours soundtrack: elliot smith x/o; replacements don't tell a soul; mars volta frances the mute; secret machines now here is nowhere

sick part two (electric boogaloo)

i definately have a stomach bug. if i was not sure before, today has left no doubt. it sucks. . . still sleeping in shifts but sleeping a lot, which is good. . . i will wait out the sickness, i have become good and patient about such matters. i guess working in autism teaches you patience if nothing else. some things are worth waiting for, waiting out. it is never a question of if in my book anymore, it is always a question of when.

i wasn't always so patient, there was a time where i was very impulsive. i still am in a lot of ways, and that's okay. impulse and patience can co-exist. they circle like vultures and it would be easy to get caught up in feeling one overwhelms the other. it's like anything else though, we are always in flux moving towards equilibrium, that's all. we may feel like our lives have been ruled by rash decisions and bad mistakes, but instead we should look at where these decisions have taken us--we cannot feel so guilty that we become ponderous to a fault. i have had the hamlet blues for many years and lately i have forgoten to actually act--instead i think about action. no harm/no foul right? i have forgotten impulsivity and have been ruled by my caution. what is the head without the heart, then? you need both and you have to forgive both for the turns you take. . .

at the end of the day whatever we have chosen (good or bad) provide us with our location. sometimes where we end up is far better than we could have ever imagined--although at the time you would be hard-pressed to believe such logic.

of course, this could be the fever talking. . .no rod stewart/dead collaborations today though. . .

more later.

today's soundtrack: soloman burke don't give up on me; otis redding live at the whiskey a-go-go; tom waits small change; david gray lost songs; joni mitchell blue; elliot smith figure 8; jimmy scott heaven; big star #1 record/radio city; replacements let it be; gin blossoms new miserable experience; carol king tapestry

still still sick

not going to university today, my boss has a heart. going to my other job today, no comment.
i should be home by 4 at least instead of 8 so i'm thankful for that--can't keep much down and i don't know if i'll be going to philly tomorrow. . .

this sucks.

am soundtrack: wilco being there; carol king tapestry

still sick

although most of my fever and chills are gone, my stomach is killing me. it feels like i am trying to digest broken glass. my stomach's churning actually woke me up from two naps today. sleep has been my m.o. this whole weekend--just hazily drifting out of slumber for a hour or two at a clip. . .not bad, feels like a full blown boozy stupor. . .not that I know what they feel like. . . right, anyway, I hope to feel well enough to go to philly on tuesday--probably will, i'm just keeping it all low key until then.

maybe i can just sleep my way through the next day or two and then return to my hibirnation on wednesday. . . sleeping until next weekend sounds really nice right now. i think the flu is my body's way of telling me to rest more than i do. hey if it means one weekend every two years, i can deal. . . sleep helps make waiting go faster, too.

evening soundtrack: mars volta frances the mute; brain wilson smile; the beatles revolver; tom waits closing time

sick!

i think i have the flu. it started yesterday afternoon with aches and stiffness and now all i want to do is sleep. i have chills (and there multiplying) and my stomach sounds like a pepper mill. spent last night in a daze watching pbs--i know PBS! there was live concerts by rod stewart and the grateful dead--at one point i thought they were playing together. ol' jerry noodling away on "maggie may"--dirty hippies doing that spinning nonsense to "hot legs." who the hell needs drugs--just let your brain boil due to fever!

i haven't felt this ill in about two years. the last time i had the flu i didn't have anywhere to live. i was staying with my then girlfriend; however her roommate didn't want me there alone. so i got the flu on a weekend when she was working and i had nowhere to go. i tried to wait out her shift at barnes and noble but i almost passed out in the poetry section. i decided to just rent a room at the local travelodge.

the travelodge loosley fit all the definitions of a hotel--it had a bed, a tv, and a bathroom. there was a red ring in the tub that made me think of janet leigh in psycho and the room smelled like cheap cigarettes--at least it had cable. i spent the night, shaking a fever from my skin and eating bad takeout pizza. . .not one of the best night of my life!

i feel a little better this morning but i do believe i'll be going back to bed. ugh. . .

am soundtrack: ray lamontange trouble; sam cooke the rhythm and the blues; joni mitchell blue; miles davis kind of blue; roxy music avalon

sketch 8

she pours the sweetness into the receiver,
and he lies floored, heart spilling blood
on dirty white carpets, there isn’t talk
of tears anymore,

less a conversation:more a promise.

Crimson flaws
like untrapped passion--a distance grown shorter
by the long cuts of night he threads with his tongue.

to unravel the code of parted lips is to
clue into the world as a whole:

in the air thoughts and promises all deny
gravity,
words rise to inhabit the temperature of
a room.

he is so openly honest that his red river
assumes he will drown, and this is not
the way of fatalism, this is an open
mouth kiss of delta known only as waiting.

pm soundtrack:

nina simone best of; nick drake time of no reply; van morrison moondance

sublimation

sometimes, it's just the act of being at work that keeps me moving. i started swinging away at it round nine or ten this morning. maybe it's the inner nick adams, a need for working with my hands--a clear and disarmed headspace. . . I am organizing my work area and reorganizing. In a lot of ways it's like pre-rinsing tomorrow's dirty dishes. . .

i think i also like the remote location of the office. it's friday night and i am the only person in the entire building, had to be let in actually. . . there used to be ghost stories involving this place. . . well, it's just me and the ghosts tonight, then . . . hope they like hazelnut coffee. i think i'm actually going to finally go home for a little while, i've had a couple offers for a free drink or two. might take some of those offers seriously.

i can't get solomon burke out of my head today, or otis redding, or john coltrane and johnny hartman: perhaps they are the ghosts, well least the traces of recent vintage. . . more of a sensory spirit resemebling the lighted mountainside profile of a small town dying to be a city in a car dreaming of its own wings. . .

more later

evening soundtrack: elvis costello and burt bacarach painted from memory; percy sledge when a man loves a woman; solomon burke don't give up on me; thelonious monk monk's blues

where is elvis costello and burt bacarach when you need them?

"What came first? The music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns and watching violent videos, we're scared that some sort of culture of violence is taking them over...But nobody worries about kids listening to thousands -- literally thousands -- of songs about broken hearts and rejection and pain and misery and loss.Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable, or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?"
--High Fidelity

I am now on the third floor of Kirby Hall in an actual office with an actual desk and a real stapler; however my computer refuses to let me in so I am on a pre-networked computer. This has always been a dream: an office in an english department. OK, so I'm only a grad assistant and this is a shared space, ca ne fait rein, I can call it home. I am in my new office, working and spinning soul music. art is longing and sam cooke is my proof. . .

The quote above is what i finally fell asleep to last night--for a long time I was unable to watch High Fidelity--the Stevie Wonder song over the credits made me cry like a little girl. Last night I watched and felt. . .whole. Sometimes we get completion in ways we never would sanely admit to one another in the passing streetlights of nighttalking, but when we do get it, when we feel such a way, we got to do our damnedest to hold on and not let go. . . I don't want to ever let go of that feeling or (hoepfully) what led me to it. . .sometimes it's a moment, sometimes it's poem or a song or a smile, sometimes it's not that easy to pin down.

but sometimes it is. . .

pm soundtrack: soloman burke don't give up on me; marvin gaye and tammi terrell greatest hits; sam cooke the man and his music; the replacments let it be

request and dedications. . .

so somebody had requested to see the following poem in print form (i guess to either swoon over it or to tear it a new one--guess where the winning bets are being placed!) as case kasem would say, here' your request and dedication (minus the dedication). . .

Cyrano is destroying the youth of America.

He broke ballpoints like Ticonderogas,
Splinters of ink traded for lead.
Lost and tired of pronouns with faces,
Since when did poems become a pick-up line?
He doesn’t want to write her a poem,
He wants her to understand the poems
that already exist,
He wants to talk about Dylan,
Bob and Thomas alike,
Tangled up in blue,
Do not go soft into that goodnight,
(Instead)
his John Hughes mouth has
marshmallows for teeth and a
bubble gum tongue
tied—

THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HE DOESN’T WANT!!


Prufrock poems aren’t special,
straight lines are disrespected by
the angles that fight form when
light
hits lens—
curved and inverted images,
poetry is
second hand smoke read
and
topsy-turvied by the eye.
Feelings don’t beg to be written.
Affection is only a muse when chased.
Pens push paper into
separatist language.
He just wants to say something
that isn’t romantic,
Or scripted
Or perfect.

His chair empties,
A coat hoisted full
Mast with arms,
Door shutting ends a poem
And starts their conversation.

am soundtrack: frente labour of love ep; joss stone the soul sessions; teenage fanclub 13; neil young harvest

i spoke too soon

well, it was a good run while it lasted. . . actually fell asleep by 9ish tonight and was up wide awake by midnight. . . it's not insomnia though, it's just being listless. . . overthinking perhaps? nothing heavy, just knowing my dance card is full . . . i guess i need to revert back to some method acting--remembering the last time i was sleepy and just going with that--hope to catch up some this weekend.

i think the late hours are all about the company you keep. i guess i'm just too good of company for me to pass up on (how 'bout that for syntax and diction!). . . it's nighthawks, last call-ers and me, the third shift away from the sun. . .

more later

afterhours soundtrack: nick drake time of no reply; tom waits early years vol. 1 and 2

you know it was prince's song first, right?

so i decided to "eat my dinner at a fancy resturant" today, alone. i used to go out to eat by myself a lot--actually ate several holiday dinners with the company of the fine staff of The Mark II Family Resturant. i never really noticed anyone watching me eat a diner by myself. . .until tonight.

the waitress, a wadded shoeleather shell of a woman, came over and asked "are you waiting for someone?" and when i told her no, she gave me an understanding nod--the kind of nod that tells me "you poor sad man, of course you're not waiting for anyone." it was very uncomfortable--then i noticed that i was about the third warm body in the resturant (the jury out on leather face there) and they were all looking at me. they had sat me in the middle of the dining floor--like i was stranded in a sea of empty boothes and unclaimed 4tops. . .

they took their time getting to me. . . there was a couple at a booth--youngish and very self-involved. when the man went up to go to the bathroom, the girl kind of looked my way and gave me a faint nod--the kind of nod you offer an aquaintence when you find out they've been audited or their pet cat has died.

i started to freak out a little bit. . .alright. . .after about ten minutes, more couples were being seated around me--like i was on display. . .that made me really start to tweak. maybe it was that i had become more aware of "dining alone" by leatherface, or that there weren't that many people, or because i was sitting in a wide open space alone with a cup a coffee. . . whatever it was, i had enough and put down a 3 spot and left. . .i got a take-out pizza and now i'm sitting in front of this computer. believe me it sounds more sad and pathetic than it really was. . . i left because i got freaked out by people watching (or thinking people were watching). it was not because i'm launching into some cure-inspired fit of self-loathing, pancake make-up wearing black hearted drama riffage. . .you shouldn't misconstrue "alone" with "lonely" or even "lonely" with "sad" and you shouldn't tan if you're over sixty--my god it reminded me that i need to get leather gloves to match my brown jacket!!!

today's soundtrack: dusty springfield dusty in memphis; kings of leon aha shake heartbreak; ryan adams rock and roll; elliot smith x/o; u2 the unforgetable fire; nick cave and the bad seeds let love in; percy sledge ultimate collection; miles davis miles smiles; teenage fanclub bandwagonesque; solomon burke don't give up on me

call me weak, baby!

'cause I'm finally sleeping! for the first time this year, i have slept for more than 4 hours straight two nights in a row. it's been nice, not feeling so zombiefied around mid-afternoon. we'll see how long this lasts. . . ergo, there hasn't been much going on in my life. . .waiting to hear back from publishers--that's about it. . . but f%$k it: I'M SLEEPING!! Reading new Bukowski book, Slouching Towards Nirvanna--he has two more coming out this year. I think only 2Pac has released more shit post-mordem than ol'Charles. . .

more later

today's soundrack: mars volta frances the mute; ray lamontange trouble; kings of leon aha shake heartbreak; snow patrol final straw; r.e.m. monster; david gray white ladder; smokey robbinson and the miracles anthology; the commitments original motion picture soundtrack