harder to know when women are truly dead,
I ordered and protected to my mouth
say led on a cutter back of goat tag tin
begin to beg. a keg, skate key
tapper island skirt luffing shallows
bunk but whole. you can't have a crazy
time with the one-at-a-time
by mistook massively redundant
prehistoric japan fungus
I ordered and protected to my mouth
say led on a cutter back of goat tag tin
begin to beg. a keg, skate key
tapper island skirt luffing shallows
bunk but whole. you can't have a crazy
time with the one-at-a-time
by mistook massively redundant
prehistoric japan fungus
I don't think people think I'm a gremlin, but to the extent that I am, I think that's what works. gremlinism works. oh well duh well ok (rims out)
this part of track 19 sounded just a little tiniest bit like sunday bloody sunday, just that little guitar speck in there. not spec or spock. spick.
this part of track 19 sounded just a little tiniest bit like sunday bloody sunday, just that little guitar speck in there. not spec or spock. spick.
it's 3:49. it's really not even close to 6:00. I'm going to sell something on ebay that I think is worth about $200. retails for $220 and it's one of those things you can't really get for less than retail. it's a part. for a scoot. a fancy part & one I don't need. kevin said he liked the frog eyes bonus tracks best, and that certainly (thank god) accords with my own experience. but increasingly I also like the pre-intermission stuff. the album (golden river) has an intermission. 25 seconds of silence or something. it's a 70+ minute album. so the second half of the album is all bonus tracks. say, kind of like this post!
--not a poem
--not a poem
I think the reason why I wasn't writing an epic poem is b/c I wasn't listening to music. I'm listening to music now. by epic poem I don't mean anything long like an epic poem. I just mean epic. for example I think this one might be an epic poem. it seems like a long story even if it's not a long poem.
buck's poem came in the mail. monsters are not a problem. and monsters are not a problem. I haven't been reading poetry. kind of hit me yesterday that I will start reading poems again. I need to. it's all there is. that's part of the fear sometimes. but there's lots of good poetry. the art form isn't bankrupt. it's not fake. it just has to be defined by whatever I need. sometimes I just stop and throw it off ahead, throw up, shake it off up, I'm opposed to confidence but of course I fake authority as a courtesy, just to get the drag out of the way. like today I was thinking people say "I don't usually [blank] but this time [blank] and so you know I must mean it." that gambit. people shouldn't do that. it's wrong style. don't preface by saying what you don't usually, just say the thing. cathy said I'm always right. I think there's something to that. maureen gets really bent out of shape or just into a different shape if you say "stop being wrong" to her, just like that. I think it's just there's nothing in her programming to prepare her for the basic assertion that she should stop being wrong about something. try it. well, you can't do it the right way. sorry. I don't know. I guess it's worth trying. but I'm good at it so it might not work for you in the same way. you have to be sincere about it.
I'm listening to frog eyes. I've had a lot of mixed feelings. it doesn't sound like GBV. I'm not saying that. but I am saying that I've experienced it, my initial approach to it in the same way I had my first approach to bee thousand and alien lanes, which were the first ones I listened to. it was like, this isn't exactly pleasant or accomodating to listen to, in fact I don't even think I like how it feels to listen to this but somehow I know I'm going to keep doing it and it will work out. it's headphone music tho, frog eyes. you need to hear all the little things. it is not background music as they say and I said. really tho that's the thing. it's not background music. not at first. but now it is. well, it's in the headphones now. that works. I like it. I've been listening to it while I typed this. publish
buck's poem came in the mail. monsters are not a problem. and monsters are not a problem. I haven't been reading poetry. kind of hit me yesterday that I will start reading poems again. I need to. it's all there is. that's part of the fear sometimes. but there's lots of good poetry. the art form isn't bankrupt. it's not fake. it just has to be defined by whatever I need. sometimes I just stop and throw it off ahead, throw up, shake it off up, I'm opposed to confidence but of course I fake authority as a courtesy, just to get the drag out of the way. like today I was thinking people say "I don't usually [blank] but this time [blank] and so you know I must mean it." that gambit. people shouldn't do that. it's wrong style. don't preface by saying what you don't usually, just say the thing. cathy said I'm always right. I think there's something to that. maureen gets really bent out of shape or just into a different shape if you say "stop being wrong" to her, just like that. I think it's just there's nothing in her programming to prepare her for the basic assertion that she should stop being wrong about something. try it. well, you can't do it the right way. sorry. I don't know. I guess it's worth trying. but I'm good at it so it might not work for you in the same way. you have to be sincere about it.
I'm listening to frog eyes. I've had a lot of mixed feelings. it doesn't sound like GBV. I'm not saying that. but I am saying that I've experienced it, my initial approach to it in the same way I had my first approach to bee thousand and alien lanes, which were the first ones I listened to. it was like, this isn't exactly pleasant or accomodating to listen to, in fact I don't even think I like how it feels to listen to this but somehow I know I'm going to keep doing it and it will work out. it's headphone music tho, frog eyes. you need to hear all the little things. it is not background music as they say and I said. really tho that's the thing. it's not background music. not at first. but now it is. well, it's in the headphones now. that works. I like it. I've been listening to it while I typed this. publish
not a poem:
the first elliot smith song on new moon. why is it so sweet to hear it. it's like hearing a panda. speaking of suckers. it's just the "me small you big" of it. we like that from both ends. asymmetry. I can't find my camera. I think it's in my scooter glove box. I might listen to it again. it goes like "sometimes I feel like, only a cold pan-da, only and o-o-nly, only an --o-o- nly, only o-nly."
bottles on a clean counter are beautiful. all the different graphic arts on the labels, turned this and that way, so vert, opaque. comments are nice. but it's nice to post in a blog with no comments because it's like everyone is in a big cage and can't get to me. not that I don't like when people get to me. of course I do. but the cage is nice too, differently.
it's not really like hearing a panda. it's something about soft disappearance we want. you get that in a lot of elliot smith songs. that kind of super-accelerated indulgent self-love with the other as a foil to insure proper delivery like those things you put around the front of your neck for tanning, not tanning hides, in the spring break. how was your spring. have you been thinking about it as such. of course I do about my spring. online I'm sure there is people's pictures of the year, their oblong representations like I have in my head. the week is also an oval but flatter (more flat), a tank tread with the top skinnier, rhombus with the tread shorter at the top for the weekend. for my year Dec 31 is at the top, slightly right of center. then january drops steeply. spring is pretty flat, vert (vertical), then turns into a disproportionately fat weeble wobble bottom for the summer, around june or july. june is sort of invisible. turns back up around sept/oct. but what to do in the year. none of this solves the problem of what to do. I have a charmed life. I don't always feel it. publish
the first elliot smith song on new moon. why is it so sweet to hear it. it's like hearing a panda. speaking of suckers. it's just the "me small you big" of it. we like that from both ends. asymmetry. I can't find my camera. I think it's in my scooter glove box. I might listen to it again. it goes like "sometimes I feel like, only a cold pan-da, only and o-o-nly, only an --o-o- nly, only o-nly."
bottles on a clean counter are beautiful. all the different graphic arts on the labels, turned this and that way, so vert, opaque. comments are nice. but it's nice to post in a blog with no comments because it's like everyone is in a big cage and can't get to me. not that I don't like when people get to me. of course I do. but the cage is nice too, differently.
it's not really like hearing a panda. it's something about soft disappearance we want. you get that in a lot of elliot smith songs. that kind of super-accelerated indulgent self-love with the other as a foil to insure proper delivery like those things you put around the front of your neck for tanning, not tanning hides, in the spring break. how was your spring. have you been thinking about it as such. of course I do about my spring. online I'm sure there is people's pictures of the year, their oblong representations like I have in my head. the week is also an oval but flatter (more flat), a tank tread with the top skinnier, rhombus with the tread shorter at the top for the weekend. for my year Dec 31 is at the top, slightly right of center. then january drops steeply. spring is pretty flat, vert (vertical), then turns into a disproportionately fat weeble wobble bottom for the summer, around june or july. june is sort of invisible. turns back up around sept/oct. but what to do in the year. none of this solves the problem of what to do. I have a charmed life. I don't always feel it. publish
I am going to write an epic poem now while listening to music.
I had the last little bit of the sugar at the bottom of my caffeinated coffee.
It would be cool if each keystroke would publish the poem so I don't have to keep clicking "publish post". some kinda web 2.0 thing so the letter just appear and/or go away while I type them. it would be like a movie.
I had the last little bit of the sugar at the bottom of my caffeinated coffee.
It would be cool if each keystroke would publish the poem so I don't have to keep clicking "publish post". some kinda web 2.0 thing so the letter just appear and/or go away while I type them. it would be like a movie.
the perfect commercial fullness
and exact usage of the plaza
low clouds radiate the sun
casual sportswear as far as the eye can see
and these brown chairs
it occurs to me that for these people
I am an image, a kind of disc
with no greater claim
to the overall story
than the kid with the silvery
razor scooter laid on its side
3544 miles at last refueling
totally analog
almost french
and slinky climb back up
and exact usage of the plaza
low clouds radiate the sun
casual sportswear as far as the eye can see
and these brown chairs
it occurs to me that for these people
I am an image, a kind of disc
with no greater claim
to the overall story
than the kid with the silvery
razor scooter laid on its side
3544 miles at last refueling
totally analog
almost french
and slinky climb back up
an revision...
well kid. spose
better get this done. don't have all night to writ
this. my scooter won't start. blAAh.
but we're going to, we're going to be ok
can't I get an easy mechanical win.
the beer won. I sea
wea
w
swear
swear I get healthier each one I drink. where are you.
ranger rick? strange name for a girl. you know
that's a kid 's magazine.
well wide tube........ BLOONG
I
head that vacation when you think
it's gonna real life things
not time yet.not time. SOOO much time these days.
well, it's a big tube and it's a wid
see you
well kid. spose
better get this done. don't have all night to writ
this. my scooter won't start. blAAh.
but we're going to, we're going to be ok
can't I get an easy mechanical win.
the beer won. I sea
wea
w
swear
swear I get healthier each one I drink. where are you.
ranger rick? strange name for a girl. you know
that's a kid 's magazine.
well wide tube........ BLOONG
I
head that vacation when you think
it's gonna real life things
not time yet.not time. SOOO much time these days.
well, it's a big tube and it's a wid
see you
that's pretty fucked. I didn't mean to cross everything out. I swears.
I just wanted to spell the word "just" with some left angle brackets and there was this error. it said like "check this if you want to ignore the error. so I did. well. then everything was crossed out. wonder if it's like that when you click on the link for the ind=ividual post.
[NOTE: this post was written after an html problem caused all the stuff down there and older to be struckthrough, strikethrough. But since then I fixed that.]
I just wanted to spell the word "just" with some left angle brackets and there was this error. it said like "check this if you want to ignore the error. so I did. well. then everything was crossed out. wonder if it's like that when you click on the link for the ind=ividual post.
[NOTE: this post was written after an html problem caused all the stuff down there and older to be struckthrough, strikethrough. But since then I fixed that.]
well kid. spose
better get this done. I don't have all night to writ this.
my scooter won't start. blAAh.
but we're going to, we're going to be ok.
can't I just get an easy mechanical win.
the beer won. I sea
wea
w
swear
swear I get healthier each one I drink. where are you?
that's nice.
nice to meet you.
what's you're your name.
ranger rick? that's odd. strange name for a girl. you know
that's a kid 's magazine.
well wide tube........ BLOONG
I <j><u><s><t>
head that vacation when you think
it's gonna real life things
not time yet.not time. SOOO much time these days.
well, it's a big tube and it's a wid
see you
better get this done. I don't have all night to writ this.
my scooter won't start. blAAh.
but we're going to, we're going to be ok.
can't I just get an easy mechanical win.
the beer won. I sea
wea
w
swear
swear I get healthier each one I drink. where are you?
that's nice.
nice to meet you.
what's you're your name.
ranger rick? that's odd. strange name for a girl. you know
that's a kid 's magazine.
well wide tube........ BLOONG
I <j><u><s><t>
head that vacation when you think
it's gonna real life things
not time yet.not time. SOOO much time these days.
well, it's a big tube and it's a wid
see you
Fires in Mexico (remix) (awwwdio)
Skipped moments like puppets in a protest, and a man passed out.
He licked some crystals from a hand and straightened up, and the mules continued.
The myth began in reality, when I arrived. Since I left I haven't been able to live anywhere.
Things seem possible as images and occasions but not as routine processes. A girl named Puja
held holistic compresses on her knee, infected from a trampoline accident.
She would laugh and laugh from the pain. Her parents were healers. A rasta surfed our couch.
I still cooked steak-ums at that point, though I was beginning to ride bikes.
I got another bike, then another. I hiked a lot. I was afraid to exceed a certain elastic limit.
I have forgotten the plan. What happened. The grocery stores were excellent.
Friendships tended to be shallow. I didn't talk. Everyone thought I was abstaining.
My housemates accepted me. Susan borrowed my Neil Young CD for a long time.
It was great to watch her fold laundry and listen to Neil Young.
It was the first time I had ever been in a Toyota 4-Runner.
Brian ate beans, shells & cheese and broccoli. He said "have a broccoli hit."
The writers made forts. Later we camped. We tried to do the things we were supposed to do.
Some people skied. When they did they went away because we didn't ski. We never saw them ski.
I realized I could buy ice cream whenever I wanted. It always snowed a lot in late september.
The trees still had leaves and held a lot of snow and you beat them with a broom.
They don't seem to know I had started over, people are doing these beautiful things.
I notice inefficiency in a different way, seem more tired, for now, until I get better at this.
It's not to graph the cooking peaks. People say I really do talk this way, the secrets locked in simple machines.
But when I saw Dave in New Jersey he couldn't believe it. He said "wow, you talk."
Skipped moments like puppets in a protest, and a man passed out.
He licked some crystals from a hand and straightened up, and the mules continued.
The myth began in reality, when I arrived. Since I left I haven't been able to live anywhere.
Things seem possible as images and occasions but not as routine processes. A girl named Puja
held holistic compresses on her knee, infected from a trampoline accident.
She would laugh and laugh from the pain. Her parents were healers. A rasta surfed our couch.
I still cooked steak-ums at that point, though I was beginning to ride bikes.
I got another bike, then another. I hiked a lot. I was afraid to exceed a certain elastic limit.
I have forgotten the plan. What happened. The grocery stores were excellent.
Friendships tended to be shallow. I didn't talk. Everyone thought I was abstaining.
My housemates accepted me. Susan borrowed my Neil Young CD for a long time.
It was great to watch her fold laundry and listen to Neil Young.
It was the first time I had ever been in a Toyota 4-Runner.
Brian ate beans, shells & cheese and broccoli. He said "have a broccoli hit."
The writers made forts. Later we camped. We tried to do the things we were supposed to do.
Some people skied. When they did they went away because we didn't ski. We never saw them ski.
I realized I could buy ice cream whenever I wanted. It always snowed a lot in late september.
The trees still had leaves and held a lot of snow and you beat them with a broom.
They don't seem to know I had started over, people are doing these beautiful things.
I notice inefficiency in a different way, seem more tired, for now, until I get better at this.
It's not to graph the cooking peaks. People say I really do talk this way, the secrets locked in simple machines.
But when I saw Dave in New Jersey he couldn't believe it. He said "wow, you talk."
Fires in Mexico
The myth began in reality, when I arrived. Since I left I haven't been able to live anywhere.
Things seem possible as images and occasions but not as routine processes.
Skipped moments like puppets in a protest, and a man passed out.
He licked some crystals from a hand and straightened up, and the mules continued.
Puja applied a compress to her knee, infected from a trampoline accident.
She would laugh and laugh from the pain. Her parents were healers. A rasta surfed our couch.
I still cooked steak-ums at that point, though I was beginning to ride bikes.
I got another bike, then another. I hiked a lot. I was afraid to exceed a certain elastic limit.
I had a girlfriend. When we broke up she went to Africa, then visited me in Washington.
Then she went to Michigan, then Denver, then Queens, then Denver.
My housemates accepted me. Susan borrowed my Neil Young CD for a long time.
It was great to watch her fold laundry and listen to Neil Young.
It was the first time I had ever been in a Toyota 4-Runner.
Brian ate beans, shells & cheese and broccoli. He said "have a broccoli hit."
The writers made forts at Cecilia’s. Later we camped. We tried to do the things we were supposed to do.
Some people skied. When they did they went away because we didn't ski. We never saw them ski.
I realized I could buy ice cream whenever I wanted. It always snowed a lot in late September.
The trees still had leaves and held a lot of snow, so you beat them with a broom.
They don't seem to know I started over, people are doing these beautiful things.
I notice inefficiency in a different way, seem more tired, for now, until I get better at this.
It's not to graph the cooking peaks. People say I really do talk this way, the secrets locked in simple machines.
But when I saw Dave in New Jersey he couldn't believe it. He said "wow, you talk."
The myth began in reality, when I arrived. Since I left I haven't been able to live anywhere.
Things seem possible as images and occasions but not as routine processes.
Skipped moments like puppets in a protest, and a man passed out.
He licked some crystals from a hand and straightened up, and the mules continued.
Puja applied a compress to her knee, infected from a trampoline accident.
She would laugh and laugh from the pain. Her parents were healers. A rasta surfed our couch.
I still cooked steak-ums at that point, though I was beginning to ride bikes.
I got another bike, then another. I hiked a lot. I was afraid to exceed a certain elastic limit.
I had a girlfriend. When we broke up she went to Africa, then visited me in Washington.
Then she went to Michigan, then Denver, then Queens, then Denver.
My housemates accepted me. Susan borrowed my Neil Young CD for a long time.
It was great to watch her fold laundry and listen to Neil Young.
It was the first time I had ever been in a Toyota 4-Runner.
Brian ate beans, shells & cheese and broccoli. He said "have a broccoli hit."
The writers made forts at Cecilia’s. Later we camped. We tried to do the things we were supposed to do.
Some people skied. When they did they went away because we didn't ski. We never saw them ski.
I realized I could buy ice cream whenever I wanted. It always snowed a lot in late September.
The trees still had leaves and held a lot of snow, so you beat them with a broom.
They don't seem to know I started over, people are doing these beautiful things.
I notice inefficiency in a different way, seem more tired, for now, until I get better at this.
It's not to graph the cooking peaks. People say I really do talk this way, the secrets locked in simple machines.
But when I saw Dave in New Jersey he couldn't believe it. He said "wow, you talk."
Yon Fucshia Praam
you that peach coadunate Arabs
the soaking apatetic fuchsin
the youngish buccal oak
as ubiquitous in beady owing
that arbitrate a Fabian practicum.
If the coach of young ma
reaches yon si
in with buccal soakage
or you nab the fuchsia suable.
If to arbitrate oaks
is to coagulate coadunate els,
wrack a much fucker praam
than is the oval soakage
and placate it
into the ubiquitous fuckup.
["peach" is slang for to tell on someone, to act as an informer. Method: I typed out three sentences from a technical manual, then replaced each word with the first word in the dictionary starting with the same first two letters and having the same part of speech (and same tense if a verb). For example, "problem" became "praam". I didn't replace small words like "is" and "the". I used the three most commonly occurring words in the resulting text to make the title. Within the text, I took each occurrence of those three most commonly occurring words -- after the first occurrence of each -- and replaced it with the next word in the dictionary starting with the same first two letters and having the same part of speech (and same tense if a verb). Function became fuchsia then fuchsin then fucker then fuckup. In scanning for words with the matching part of speech, I went with the first one initially identified with the abbreviation for that part of speech. In other words, if the dictionary initially identified something as a noun and I needed a verb, I wouldn't use the verb form of the same word. Once I had all the vocab, I put on water wings and re-arranged the words while softly cooing.]
you that peach coadunate Arabs
the soaking apatetic fuchsin
the youngish buccal oak
as ubiquitous in beady owing
that arbitrate a Fabian practicum.
If the coach of young ma
reaches yon si
in with buccal soakage
or you nab the fuchsia suable.
If to arbitrate oaks
is to coagulate coadunate els,
wrack a much fucker praam
than is the oval soakage
and placate it
into the ubiquitous fuckup.
["peach" is slang for to tell on someone, to act as an informer. Method: I typed out three sentences from a technical manual, then replaced each word with the first word in the dictionary starting with the same first two letters and having the same part of speech (and same tense if a verb). For example, "problem" became "praam". I didn't replace small words like "is" and "the". I used the three most commonly occurring words in the resulting text to make the title. Within the text, I took each occurrence of those three most commonly occurring words -- after the first occurrence of each -- and replaced it with the next word in the dictionary starting with the same first two letters and having the same part of speech (and same tense if a verb). Function became fuchsia then fuchsin then fucker then fuckup. In scanning for words with the matching part of speech, I went with the first one initially identified with the abbreviation for that part of speech. In other words, if the dictionary initially identified something as a noun and I needed a verb, I wouldn't use the verb form of the same word. Once I had all the vocab, I put on water wings and re-arranged the words while softly cooing.]
I didn't write a poem on 7/11, which is we'rd. I actually spelled it that way. I wasn't trying to be cute. it came out typed like we'rd. anyhow, I didn't write a poem but I will today. pretty soon I think I might write a sincere poem or something. I liked the poem about soledad o'brien on the airport TV. that was very sincere. I'm not trying to say anything about sincerity as an issue. I was just using the word. oh yeah, I meant to say it's weird b/c I'm always talking about 7/11, so I really should have written a poem about 7/11 on 7/11. 7/11 is the new 9/11. except. it's not really the same thing. one is a convenience store and the other is 9/11. where is the door out of this post. don't let it hit me on the way out.
I feel pretty good. I'm not embarrassed to be influenced by people younger than me. I was able to discern this very tiny film of guilt from assuming that people hate me, and then I realized that no one hates me, even thought [sic] I never realized that anyone did. I'm glad. I don't think it would make me more interesting if people hated me. I don't want anyone to hate me. and no one does.
I think George Bush is crazy, lately. I used to just think he was kind of stubborn and a dim bulb. people always say he's "not stupid." it may be that he's not stupid, but what the hell does that mean. in any case, regardless of whether he's stupid, he can still be a dim bulb. and crazy. I now think he's crazy. cheney is crazy. rove is crazy. colin powell was never crazy, as I think I've said before. condi is a bit idealistic, cult material perhaps, but not exactly crazy. I just can't believe what's happening. it wasn't always like this, right? this is new, right? all kinds of things.
^poem -->
well, things were pretty good in a lot of ways, relatively speaking, under clinton. and no it wasn't all to his credit, but things were trending reasonably well, in a lot of respects. and that wasn't too long ago. so maybe things could get better in about the same amount of time they've gotten worse. I don't know. what was I going to say:
I love the snickers dark.
a shoe is clothes
I do believe, come to think of it, which
I don't always do, that
poetry can be this sort of imaginative sot
transformative sod
omy
oh god
sort fo
sort of thing
--> sort of thing. I just mean
not this
we all reem
remember reading a story
and it6 changed us
now not all captain
I just mean I'm going to write that way
and I do think about revolutions. hard
to say.
cindy sheehan is impressive in a way.
I don't mean she's a great card player.
I just mean she's like what we all don't think
we can. just a person who
does something and it works. the media
picks up things, you could say, and uses them,
the media decides that there needs to be this person
who represents no one special except they act.
they actually go to the president's home
for god's sake
and don't leave until he agrees to talk to them
which he doesn't.
just as well.
I wouldn't shake his hand. he pardoned (basically)
scooter libby. that guy was convicted of perjury
and obstruction of justice by a jury
his own lawyers helped select.
well, I mostly accept things. I trust
the experts and hope for the best,
and I write poetry and do my chores.
who knows. the sun will burn out.
it's nice to feel needed but how many people
do I want to need me.
so for all intents and purposes
bush is going to have to be put down
it's weird and silent for the most important thing.
how it's just getting to where he won't even
be impeached or murdered
it's more humiliating or should be
than that, it's more like somebody's
just going to tap him on the shoulder
and say "uhh, absolutely no one is listening to you
anymore except rove, not even me, so it's just you and rove,
you can keep living and eating here but everyone thinks you're nuts
except scalia, rove and thomas. you don't have to move out
but when you tell people to do things they're going to ignore you."
I guess it's not exactly going to be like that.
I was thinking about how you can be radical but not dangerous.
I don't think I really know how to be dangerous, at least not
on any kind of scale, or maybe I do, who knows. but if I was to
be dangerous it would
have to be by being less radical I think. of course
no one knows what they mean by radical and when "
I know it when I see it" means
you don't know it and probably don't see it. oh shit
I just edited a line break. what a waste of time.to do that.
so I don't know what would be dangerous
maybe by process of elimination
but probably it's not what's radical
at universities or whatever.
I think line breaks at all are subversive
tho spending a lot of time on them probably is not
but it's cool because the
line can go down to the next line whenever you want
irrespective of mead
it's a hot day
I'm glad I wrote my poem
I might have a part [sic] tonight I don't know
I think George Bush is crazy, lately. I used to just think he was kind of stubborn and a dim bulb. people always say he's "not stupid." it may be that he's not stupid, but what the hell does that mean. in any case, regardless of whether he's stupid, he can still be a dim bulb. and crazy. I now think he's crazy. cheney is crazy. rove is crazy. colin powell was never crazy, as I think I've said before. condi is a bit idealistic, cult material perhaps, but not exactly crazy. I just can't believe what's happening. it wasn't always like this, right? this is new, right? all kinds of things.
^poem -->
well, things were pretty good in a lot of ways, relatively speaking, under clinton. and no it wasn't all to his credit, but things were trending reasonably well, in a lot of respects. and that wasn't too long ago. so maybe things could get better in about the same amount of time they've gotten worse. I don't know. what was I going to say:
I love the snickers dark.
a shoe is clothes
I do believe, come to think of it, which
I don't always do, that
poetry can be this sort of imaginative sot
transformative sod
omy
oh god
sort fo
sort of thing
--> sort of thing. I just mean
not this
we all reem
remember reading a story
and it6 changed us
now not all captain
I just mean I'm going to write that way
and I do think about revolutions. hard
to say.
cindy sheehan is impressive in a way.
I don't mean she's a great card player.
I just mean she's like what we all don't think
we can. just a person who
does something and it works. the media
picks up things, you could say, and uses them,
the media decides that there needs to be this person
who represents no one special except they act.
they actually go to the president's home
for god's sake
and don't leave until he agrees to talk to them
which he doesn't.
just as well.
I wouldn't shake his hand. he pardoned (basically)
scooter libby. that guy was convicted of perjury
and obstruction of justice by a jury
his own lawyers helped select.
well, I mostly accept things. I trust
the experts and hope for the best,
and I write poetry and do my chores.
who knows. the sun will burn out.
it's nice to feel needed but how many people
do I want to need me.
so for all intents and purposes
bush is going to have to be put down
it's weird and silent for the most important thing.
how it's just getting to where he won't even
be impeached or murdered
it's more humiliating or should be
than that, it's more like somebody's
just going to tap him on the shoulder
and say "uhh, absolutely no one is listening to you
anymore except rove, not even me, so it's just you and rove,
you can keep living and eating here but everyone thinks you're nuts
except scalia, rove and thomas. you don't have to move out
but when you tell people to do things they're going to ignore you."
I guess it's not exactly going to be like that.
I was thinking about how you can be radical but not dangerous.
I don't think I really know how to be dangerous, at least not
on any kind of scale, or maybe I do, who knows. but if I was to
be dangerous it would
have to be by being less radical I think. of course
no one knows what they mean by radical and when "
I know it when I see it" means
you don't know it and probably don't see it. oh shit
I just edited a line break. what a waste of time.to do that.
so I don't know what would be dangerous
maybe by process of elimination
but probably it's not what's radical
at universities or whatever.
I think line breaks at all are subversive
tho spending a lot of time on them probably is not
but it's cool because the
line can go down to the next line whenever you want
irrespective of mead
it's a hot day
I'm glad I wrote my poem
I might have a part [sic] tonight I don't know
to a certain limit, literally huge,
calmed. plural of sect
in a prick of
anthemic sales energy
I've just been living with this,
this way, talking to people
standing on a skateboard
I now have enough information
in a handy image
I'm totally open about this
low-level
when I punish myself
or express anger
by consuming things, even
the pretty good cookies
seem civic and contractual
no place for a fictional deli
with uncomfortable titles
I had a can't-miss
rap with ungulate
everything's degraded
I'm not observable
calmed. plural of sect
in a prick of
anthemic sales energy
I've just been living with this,
this way, talking to people
standing on a skateboard
I now have enough information
in a handy image
I'm totally open about this
low-level
when I punish myself
or express anger
by consuming things, even
the pretty good cookies
seem civic and contractual
no place for a fictional deli
with uncomfortable titles
I had a can't-miss
rap with ungulate
everything's degraded
I'm not observable
I know this using oxygen
kick\
I'm trying to b
the most medium medium
sparticular viscosity
one practicular viscosity
that's it. exact
a fair bounty
I've got plans
can we talk?
there's no where I'd
rather be
wise but undisciplined
the person in the scene
surrounded by carrots
fantasy tick
add something to
remember this time by:
I felt young.
my whole life seemed
on both sides, given
up tiger algebra
tied like a border plumps
needless popular plump placed
thought
kick\
I'm trying to b
the most medium medium
sparticular viscosity
one practicular viscosity
that's it. exact
a fair bounty
I've got plans
can we talk?
there's no where I'd
rather be
wise but undisciplined
the person in the scene
surrounded by carrots
fantasy tick
add something to
remember this time by:
I felt young.
my whole life seemed
on both sides, given
up tiger algebra
tied like a border plumps
needless popular plump placed
thought
I guess I didn't write a poem on July 2. I did have a dream just now that I was writing a brief explanation about how I didn't write a poem. Then my mom woke me up. She called to ask if I could help her move furniture into her addition, and that woke me from the dream, at 9:01, I think. She had an addition built onto her house recently. So I can't remember how I worded the explanation in the dream, but it was pretty poetic. In the dream I was thinking that the explanation was almost as good as a poem, at least one part of it was.
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