12.14.2008

Do not topple yourself with verse
Verse - it isn't even hardly
It's more like a list
Of harmless grains
You might find in a fourth grade schoolbook

Not a pretty picture
Jacarandas stink
Life moves on
People die and so forth
News to me
News to you
Good news
The good news

Poetry will not save you
But you can save poetry

All you have to do is sneeze three times
and say
there's no place
like home

12.13.2008

Meeting people to eat
The people of Mexico
I want to go home
Lollipop does just fine
Nothing in the middle
And I have to bite
I haven't read anything
For a long time

Shave myself good
Damn fine
Somebody swallow me

I never could think that way
Got no problem talking
Popular possum
Play yourself
Hey
You're pretty good at that
Did you know?

12.11.2008

Do you understand a Shakespeare of a bloke
A man looking for some kind of love
Writer no doubt
Sometimes you don't know how a person's work
Can Be anything other than something that hooks them
Early on
Until they don't know they are doing it anymore
It should be something you love
It should be what you love
Lusioned much with love
I lay a centipede awake
On my desk
The centipede takes off it's several boots
And stays a while
Calling itself Faith

12.07.2008

found halfwit
produces
Pheromones

over the counter
furious abstruseness mistaken
for an impetunosity
for blabbermouth

12.05.2008

A Student Sitting

Who's rude
When you walk right past
And I'm stoned and I'm silent

Purple hair
Take up the girl
Who knows me and my position

I think too much
Somebody knows me thinking
Fortunate unfortunate

Cross-legged bear interrupted
The lecture begins
And it's time to turn the page

12.02.2008

Just because we are the greatest country in the world does not mean, automatically, that we are its greatest people. It is the call to do good and behave righteously in the face of freedom itself that makes our country the very finest, but our country, our land, is so much more than we can be, though we never had the grace to see it. So take up your grace as you take up a mountain.

12.01.2008

Love and Forgive

Who opened the door
To that redhead

Licorice afternoon drinking
On the park bench next to your
Favorite park bench

A curtain will do just fine
But the stage should be hidden somehow

Cope

Park

Was a baby born? (Did you take care of it? and love help me and Jesus help me)

11.21.2008

I'm beginning to become
One of those pathetic poets
Don't I just know it

Bleak unique critique

I disgust

Obsequious can get you out of almost any jam
But wouldn't you do better to put down some butter first?

Punny cheeky Watson

What do you love
Besides the task of recording
Cognizing isn't good enough

I've got one of those things in my neck (seriously)
It hurts when you move it

I challenged the scientist and his very methods. I believe that when you talk about the full extent of a man it is hard not

You have not yet learned
All there is to know
About seeing
Don't you think?

11.19.2008

Emily

The formative important eyes
Found nothing in the fog - of the physician's patch -




This mind is stark solemnity
To dwell upon a couch
But growing is not possible
Without Oscar the grouch




I whispered to a ventilator - Naked
as the sun-----
Hovers-----in moonlight

11.17.2008

Who Say Nothing

Pose
Until
Umm
You
Are
Comfortable

What do I want?
What does she want?
The question

the answer could not possibly be secretary of state, could it?

How personal is your personal?

I forgive you
Open blissfully fragrant quill
Penmanship is dead
Interior monologue until pose reposes
formality takes another bow
and gunmanship
explodes

Justice and freedom have new billowships
Integral to my survival

And hardly open to suggestion
Grapenuts with yogurt or milk
The answer is obvious!

Hooray for us!

11.13.2008

Art will swallow restraint like jello swallows coins

Too simple may berries stick
Fingers lick and slobber because

otherwise it just doesn't work

Have you gotten anywhere?
still where are the boys
Leaning heads down alleyways

Not true. Somebody.
Maintain why it is
That you took a step round on a bit of poetry you thought was finished?

Art is never finished
I was not the person who said that

He said the artist is never finished
He threw darts. He painted. I saw a painting of his that I liked.
The crucible -
What is the art of never touching a work again?
Self-restraint
There cannot be an art in such a thing as restraint
Can there?

11.12.2008

The Slaves of Cats

Fumble more I love you
Feed straight your imperfection
Prepare my affection
Idiotic


Oh I will one day ask for perfection
Scratch and sniff
Catch a scent
Purring


Outside a hurried man takes a different road to class. He greatly appreciated the change. It was right before the anniversary of his marriage to Erica Potsen. Love travels up and down in elevators. It only distracts you from the stairs. Posterchild for the posterchildless, a posterchild for posterchildren, the man keeps right on walking and reminds himself of where he's going.

John Robertson, bird imaginer, stepping into a puddle. He thought that was funny. He, of course, was imagining birds and stepping into puddles. It would not have been funny to anybody else would it. no. Good fortune to Elizabeth, he thought as he looked at a picture of an English coin.

He kept walking down the street, mumbling little bits of songs he learned when he was in college. But he was thinking. Running over why he was singing, never answering it so much as to keep just right on singing. Louder at bits of road without any people. Never happens in New York? I sing down West End Avenue. Put a Beer in me. Never with other people. Then you get lots of people singing and it's a nuisance you've created on a residential block. Nobody ever told me to shut up, but one time a man did yell and curse at John Robertson. John stopped in his tracks. He wondered if he ever did that to anybody. He could not remember that ever happening.

10.29.2008

You are so in me
That the me I see
Can only be this
Beautiful question
Hey

Hey Mama

Are you gonna walk like

That very much

Longer


Do you rock and roll all the time

When nobodys

Watchin You

Have you seen

My favorite bone?
Thank You Dear
For Saving Me
The boredom of
Pornography

10.16.2008

Your sit
I like that you sit

10.13.2008

Found

What am I to you
What can I be.

I want so badly to
be all of it.

Demand of me that
I may better know

how to be an instrument
of your dreams

You frighten me in your
constant satisfaction

Because I know myself
to be lower, perhaps, Than
What you know

Found II

Of your pleasure

I want none

I give it all to you

You are afraid of my
anger, which is nothing.

A trifle and temp

Next to all the love

I bare in faith for

you. As wings yearn for
the ground, so I to you
cannot stand this separation
You are the dream which causes me to wake

Found III

So much loathing I have
For the metallic revolution
Which brings us to be
seasonally ripped. Longsome loathing
and cursed despair in the
face of my very own
laughter. I cannot but
feign amusement in the love
that I find for anything _
But you – my love is
the keeper of my heart
Misplaced
and maintained.
When it was brought up to Tony Blair on Comedy Central that Al Qaeda moved into Iraq after Saddam was removed, he pined that just because democracy is introduced does not mean that Al Qaeda coming in was inevitable. First off, nobody said that it was. Second, Inevitability is hardly the issue. It fucking happened! Talk about something that can't be avoided. We removed a dictator, and created a battleground for terrorists that previously did not exist and who previously could not occupy that territory. As for Blair "liking" Bush, I just think that is too cute for words. Blair respects disagreement. Thank you, Tony. You're grrrrrrrrrreat.

10.11.2008

Stones

Rock, the poet
Come pound
Crack the deep
Not even careful to keep the self intact
Forth, the stride

Hurl
Whiz
Dock, the pebble bounces
Off the glass pane
Breaking nothing
Till the fist comes through

10.10.2008

Immasculate

Wench and woman
Stench and staunch
Will give us life
God help us all

Reform

Fifth forefather
Drunken Dan
Idle worth
Twenty
Spoke but once
Heart and soul
From brother
to sister
And back
He spent a speech
A speech
Of candor
And honesty
And elimination
There was absolutely nothing
Not to believe

10.09.2008

Loving Marilyn from the Academy

In sweet repose
with cherried prose
My heart distracted airs itself
pulled out from underneath your suffocating hips
A burning deep
to cavernous soldiers known
Resumes whenever and when not
that glorious form, lying prone
Begins turning
out of sleep
Briefly to squirm, revolve
once or twice
We are forbid it
but not a single eyelid
Shuts you out
Your blonded hairs and shaded lips of gray

I wait to wonder
if when we meet
In sacrifice across the sea
You'll blow a kiss without a price

10.08.2008

For Zhang Hongtu

Grasp well beyond clutches of red
Your child escapes
With a sunset in the rear-view mirror

The watchman at the propaganda show
Has belched lightly and excused himself
As will I

Paintings from China opened my eyes
To an inescapable champion
The subject

Mao dominated
The more pathetic hands
With what is called his thought

Shi Lu and those pines
Ink of revolution
You stinking blind corpse

Reeducated, the artist
Faces faces upon faces

The person passion
Painted persons (artisans)
Thank you thank you, Hongtu, thank you

Grasp well beyond clutches of red
One child escaped
With a sunset in the rear-view mirror

10.06.2008

V

I can't really type without trying to find
Phoenetic coherence in single letters
From a to l and up and over and across and back again
I have to think in clear words, in order not to confusing myself with the fact that if I randomly hit one of these keys it'll start something
And then my mouth will get to work on crapping out the beginnings of poetry


VI

Check the Sopranos boxes stacked
And next to it is Dante
Dante bears a holy cross
And sits on top
Of Game Informer

My mouse crawls around on top of Nixon and Presley
I think the Soprano box misses its first half
And silently wonder what that could mean
Part one before the mother died (she died)
Two could be the Ralphie years up to Whitecaps
And three is everything after that
The slow crawl to the sudden stop


VII

No fowl rude burping allowed
I did burp
I'll have you know
It pleases me nothing to do so
Anything other than underneath
My breath


VIII


The boards are in another home
And now the carpet where I roam conceals only what makes it damp
And what to do about the rose
I'll be my own
And when my petals all have flown
I will wave my stem

I will probably wonder about apologizing
I don't know
What do I have to hide?

10.05.2008

The Media Fills Our Heads with talk of Battleground States

Essentially stupid
Assuming that Poe knew anything about beauty besides its name would be a grave error. He dwells in names and metaphors, metaphoras, thucydites and pericles, meliflous, philolitry, meomitry and more. In addition to Lenore. Four-Score and Thirty Years ago today.
As Nation's Set back and listening found a riot on their hands, they did not know what to do.
The less it was untrue, that time travel could be made by birds.
Columbia Columbia
My heart cries for my alma mater and Poe's
On the hudson shores
Carefully protected with massive stone walls
Because holy crap it is beautiful
And people are learning how to live
You must not forsake the beauty of the land

Happy Talk

I like to watch movies
My favorite is Wayne's World

Hamlet comes across pretty
Don't you think he's pretty
And doesn't quite know what to do with himself

Jillian

April

Maria

Natalia

straight up Joy

Rebecca

Now there's a movie
That is a movie right there
Happy
I don't think so
But I mean come on

10.03.2008

Giving Up

I bought into it didn't I
I laid right down
I watched it roll over my face and put a dent in my skull
Essentially vague, in vogue

Richness waved goodbye
It might have never even visited
And I'm still here on the floor
Waiting for my flight
Or the time of the flight, I think
If I know the time of the flight
I can only blame myself
If I miss it

If I missed it already
It's better than if I miss it after knowing
But after knowing, I'll be on the flight
Or here on the floor

I'm going to be late
I just know it

Wait a minute
Someone distracted me
It all got so complicated once I hit a certain age
Yes yes, the plane and all the plane-ness

Don't help me
Don't help my typing

I want a gorge with juniper berries
Some shit
Let me paint beauty
For the love of something sacred, I need participation!
I can't even paint
Give me a colored pencil!

I see the gorge
Once I'm up in the air
And once I'm up there
Why bother

I'd love to talk about how far one can travel
Without leaving the floor
Wouldn't you?
Where'd you go? I'm really done talking.

9.29.2008

Looking at You

Oh if I kissed you it would be an attack
Because you know I like, like you
So silently we talk about the classroom
And the piano player
And the falling schedule there on the wall

My silence speaks only in the lips, I'm afraid
A shudder from mine to yours
Could leap past chambers

You may not be as silent as me
Believe it, I have kept shut
Cold certainty halts my heart
As if to tell it that it has nothing to say

You Are Not My Dream, Lady

I was dreaming on my second return to sleep
I thought I dreamed of you
I wasn't scared or anything like that
In fact when I see you and think of you
My heart palpitates as it never did in this dream
Others were there
And without you
I would have been alone
But you were there

I never could embrace you in my dream,
And I long for it

Your hips weren't quite as marvelous, dreamt
I'd surely have swept the floor
In a boundless illusory realm peopled with your real hips

You know I once caught the sight of hair on your legs
How could dreaming even dare

I dreamed you
And it was worthless

I had to wake up (for good)
And considered myself lucky
Lucky and lonesome
You, on Earth somewhere
Dream enough to drown the discovery of flight
Or the rare sexual encounter with a star

9.28.2008

Son of a Dick

Once I saw a heaven
But she was so demure
A teddy bear was cleaven
The heaven was -- no more --
I

No roses have I
(The scent's a passing fancy after all)
No bird, no solitary warble
Whose call fulfills my love of that
Which cannot be loved

But I can see floor-boards, forbidden
With patterns perhaps unwritten

This floor of wood bypasses the dirt
Who bore it (we cover the earth, my trees)
Does my father, of course, have to do with this
Hard ground?

I lean down to touch, smell what I can of the forest from gum and shit, my sole.


II

Sometime a rose for a lover
I might purchase
How else can I entice her to dance?
How else? (the very thing is enough for her,
but that is more than I can stand)
She dances, naught to do with love, but joy.
I am a plaything - smiling eyes
Delight her soul


III

Women there are and have especially been
Whose lives fasten to mine, blessing the track
But not the wheels. I pull them off
And sign in
To gaze at vestiges of our love - the camera
Has always been a shithead

Spite for him could be exactly the cause for these looks
Of discord I gather from photography
I ruin

Always I'll forget the tenderness,
You fantastic tags! Will I refuse
My less flippant moments


IV

The web is in our bodies
Should I dance and stamp upon these boards
It would, clearly I think, help to do nothing
Regarding the lack of roses
And to pull each one up would reveal no dead bird
Unless some dog
Found it clever and good
To hide his inanimate plaything

9.27.2008

Amorous Mexicans Dream

Help needed
Forty-two was nothing
Maybe Rome wasn't even much

9.26.2008

Come on, Billions!

Grab a fistful while you can
The force of life is going fast
Behold a bubble from the man
Worth twenty-two of poorer caste
But fondle it and sure it pops
Forget the strength he said it had
Just quickly whisk the solution drops
Into the biggest bowl for oldest dad
He needs it more than any young fuck
To keep you floating in his zoo
The glue depends on more than luck
And green or red or white or blue
Just shut your mouth and listen good
Vote with the bubble or forfeit food

9.23.2008

Rest Assured

The greater part of grumble is Jewish guilt
Forward half the sea to Uzbekistan for child support
Kill seven to eight fierce little Mugabes
Light a wicker setter well enough for Hollywood
Train him to do cunning stunts
He will thank you for it
Don’t grate Welch cheese on English salad
Intern intern number five
He will thank you for it
Fuck George Bush’s wife
Teach him what’s wrong with America
Now you have completed steps
Now you come to the door of a queer farmer
Don’t let him shoot you
Better not tell him you’re queer
Most of all
Rest assured

9.17.2008

After Standing Up

Please did

"Please do!"

Forgive me

"Please forgive me"

I'm serious

"Not really"

I wish I were serious

"You are"

I wanted people to take me seriously

"Your wishes and wantful waitings bore me, quite frankly"

Don't break in a tizzy like that

"I have no choice but to be quite honest with you"

I don't trust your honesty

"Now it is your honesty which is false"

You mean just then it was

"Now it was"

Now it is, really

"Really"

Fascinating

"I love you"

Please love me

"Give me real"

I want it

Give me real

"I miss you"

(The Who or Petra Haden's Our Love Was)

8.28.2008

The Industry

There go all my ideas
You heard them
You saw them fall into the dream
And evaporate

What does not become tapped
Touches the fringe of your buddies
And their static mind
Burns into the future as an event

The films keep getting released
Without a single reason as to why
Except to keep the screeners large
Whilst the gems hit children in the face

8.09.2008

Did a lot of driving in DC
Without driving anywhere
Started talking about Aleksandr Auzers
And the one gigantic love wave
All the waves converging
into one
endless
lovewave

7.16.2008

Every now and then I'll turn

To the list of all the unpublished posts:
Published and unpublished I scroll
Feeling for the little blue edit

7.09.2008

Up from Middle Mark

Did we go down
To the river
Only to find
That something was missing?
No no no
The river was rolling
And we found peace

One man jumps in
To the river
He finds his way
To promise and freedom
Hail hail hail
Our freedom becomes him
We follow him home

That old holy whale
Makes a house of a jail
But you open your own
Yes you open your own
So come down
And walk now
Not alone

Did we go down
To the river
Only to find
That something was missing?
No no no
The river was rolling
We found by God

6.29.2008

The Moose's Tale

I was wandering along the streets last night
When someone spotted a friendly old moose.
The moose was eager to tell his tale of woe,
So I told that moose that I had a friendly ear
And the moose believed my words
And this is what I hear

"A little old mouse with a long black tail left his wife and his childr'n to go and get the mail. What the mouse didn't know was that a young man-child loved mouses and would steal him away.
But little old mouse was a smart old thing so he stood on two legs and began to sing-
He said, 'Somebody get me a gun.
Somebody get me a gun.
If you don't right now I will shoot you anyhow
I said somebody get me a gun.'

Now this little boy was a stupid little brat - he simply hid the mouse beneath a Yankee baseball hat, and the mouse crawled out and at the top of his voice he proclaimed, he proclaimed, he proclaimed.

He said, 'Somebody get me a gun
Somebody get me a gun
And if you hit me with that broom
I swear upon Gouda I will kill every mother in this room"

Well the little boy smashed and the mouse he dashed and something went awry. For the little boy's father had a pistol for safe keeping in a little tiny hole that the mouse did find. So the mouse shot the boy and the mouse shot the mother and the mouse went outside and he killed the boy's brother and when the mouse had decided that he'd had his druthers, the father stumbles in and he meets the boy and brother

Shoutin', "Somebody get me a gun
Somebody near better run
Cuz I love my wife and I love my babies
More than any of you shits would ever know."

So I said to the moose, "What's the bother with the mouse, cuz if you ask me straight, I would call the mouse a louse. He's a shit and he shot a little innocent boy; what's the deal with this tale that you tell?"

The moose looked up and he said with a shrug, "If you give a mouse a gun, then it's worse than doing drugs." And the moose trotted off and I heard myself singing, though I can't remember why.

I said, "Somebody get me a gun
Somebody get me a gun
If you don't get me a gun I will shoot you in the head
You'll be dead you'll be dead"

Poser Poser

Whispered twisted clay
Is making my decisions
But everything to say
Has five different visions
And somehow it seems clear
That you
Will find number seven

Hunting was today
Nothing was before
Criminalite
Has stumbled through the door
And I know
That foolery and feelings go together

Why doesn't lots of fun sound like a lot of fun
Why doesn't lots of fun sound like a lot of fun

Juggling jesters score
Melodramatic monster trucks
They keep them off the floor-
Five hundred rabbits fuck fuck fuck and
Make twelve hundred more
While you and she were sleeping

Move
You've got nothing left
Stand up

6.26.2008

Attempting Politics

John McCain looks us in the eye (camera) and tells us "I hate war." Which is it, then? One hundred years in Iraq or victory by urgency of old McCain's hatred? You've got some 'splaining to do with your flip-flops by the way (on the tax cuts, the war, and how they came beautifully at the same time). Unlike John Kerry's flip-floppery (thank you Karl Rove), John McCain's flipping is quite real and... let's call it substantial.

I don't trust anything a Republican says. In my day, you could spot young Republicans a mile off. They're the one's calling one another fag (nu-uh, we only call fags fags, fag). They do it in order to assure themselves of their own nutsack. You see, no one loves testicles more than a young Republican. Not to say that Democrats don't love testicles... because they do.

Democrats are taking a shot at beacon status these days. Hope for hope to carry the day. So where can I stand in this thing? I should get a girlfriend. Been long enough. Anyway, the election is a tricky thing because politicians are a heck of a thing to have to choose. Obama said he would allow for five days of public internet posting before he signs any bill. Who's going to read the postings, let alone the bills? I accept the democratic gesture as long as the President takes responsibility for his decision-making no matter who and how many others he listens to. I'm sure at the end the signing of the bills won't just be a majority yes-no contest. Obama's a smart guy.

Bush has made me paranoid, fearful, and in the case of the Patriot Act he seemed to be calling me an idiot to my face. Even my unborn children were stepped on by that joke (it was a joke, right?) Bush is such a monumental suck-head that change as an answer seems like an understatement of sorts. The trick is to know what's good about the standing order as well as what is "broken," and to change only what will account for a difference for the better.

Obama asks me to believe in his ability to bring about a change. I wish I understood the greater substance of such a change before I was asked to believe in it. Giving all Americans the health plan of a Senator is a brilliant concept. I personally think that Doctors should be paid as much as school teachers and should help everyone they are able to help whether they see a penny for it or not. All school teachers should be paid double what they are paid now, of course. Is the best doctor the best doctor because of his paycheck, or the teacher the same? Do we not allow both to become the best, and give them respect and luxuries along the way? Always equipment has to be taken care of, but not above the lives of the doctors and the citizens and anyone asking for healing. As the maintenance and acquisition of equipment is linked to the care over the lives of patients, it should be provided for on a basis of need and preventative care for emergencies in cities.

6.13.2008

Gas Leak

In the 1960s the conservative agenda had hoses and guns to hold off blacks and students. These days they have the more respected corners of the Fox News Channel. Lets face the music or listen to it for once. Republicans have taken change, the color green, the word patriot, and freedom; they will continue to suck them dry meanwhile accusing liberals of causing confusion. Saddam Hussein was responsible for the events of September 11. Nice and clear, Mr. Cheney. Clearly, you find me stupid. The stupider I am, the better friends we're apt to be. War doesn't pay for itself? War doesn't pay. Period.

6.04.2008

स्तेफें Colbert

Colbert has fudged his name again (third and most relaxed time I seen it), slipping back into the non-French pronunciation. This time he was not trying to stay angry at Korean pop star Rain, but trying to "keep it together." That's right the nomination is in and the whole thing is coming to a long-awaited beginning and Barack Obama is the (presumptive) Democratic nominee. I'm pretty darned excited for that because I hope that the Americans may start to recognize America. That's right. Some concern has been expressed about our States. The question arises: is America ready for a black President? Some people answer no to this question before taking the time to consider that it is they who are answering the question. If you answer no to this question, please don't blame it on America. If you have to blame someone, and I can't believe I even have to say this, you have to blame yourself. Blaming the media will not suffice if we are to truly combat racial hatred and racism.

This was not really about Stephen Colbert. Ummm... I just want some responsibility to be... hey now that McClellan's book is out, shouldn't we be able to impeach that sucker? Wait... Cheney was their protection against any attempt at such a thing. Remember how smart all the Republicans said he was leading up to 2000? Like, "Hey we know Bush is dumb, but look at his running mate!!" Yeah. Thanks, guys.

Wordless

I feel that I missed
An opportunity to view
Sitting down with you
And seeing Wild Strawberries

I flew the room
Missed my old rug
And hurt myself

Turning to face what
I wished were now you
The pitiful mulling pate

I resisted nothing
That could pull me
Starkly downward

I might even hit
The seventh floor

6.02.2008

The Stars are So Big

Give me a home
o Give me a home
Where I fell and I think and I lay
Where burdens are surd
And the pull its been slurred
And a steers in a slut every day

Bored
Bored and deranged
Slurpin' fears, and a mystical grain
And burped in a herd
And scourged on a word
And meals are not hurdely plain

Love
Love and in Love
With a monkey and wench and a girl
I love her I do
And until you have proof
I will say she's as chaste as a lamb

no
a life sustaining planet

maybe
a birth
- damn rhymes -
a squirrel

5.27.2008

Love Letter to John

We took th' Blacks
Boys steal from Zeppelins
Happens in the trades
Kintu space, relax
Flexing speckled harlequins
Have pulled the grace of spades

Got to say
My life has a purpose
With nothings so few
What can I relay
My whole bluffing circus
And it's not strictly you

When you have no sense
What you have
Cuts the core
Then you have new sense
What you have
Still wills more

Ancient bung beetles ten
Cow tongue slowly
Left, right and complete
More heedful men
Meet the solar holy
Branded feet

Mind Games is only worth playing
Jackelopes radio for scraps
Well and just - I think that John stares
Asked for music, staying
Pounded down into the salty taps
Lightning and glitterlight mirrorless cares

5.24.2008

Still Sleeping with Censorship?

According to the yahoo news headline, Russian Communists want to ban the Indiana Jones film. Way to show that you've changed, reds. Why don't you just shoot Spielberg. That would really show them you mean business. Or how about you just stick to your economic principles and start listening. In other words, quit whining. Sometimes people disagree with communists. Sometimes people even make up adventure stories. I once made a movie about a communist. To be fair that movie should have been banned, but only because of the part where the communist rapes the film projector. Not suitable for anyone.

Growth and Culture

Today there was the movie
Today there was not just that

Tickets
Receipts
Receipts will print before the Tickets
Prove it
Jelly beans
Trivia
Sequence
I know who James Band was
I know who he was and when
Sucked though
Horrible
Too many babies
Violent
Its real
That baby knows it is
The parents

Take them out
But nothing
You're hurting him
"Give that kid a sour patch kid
For God's sake"
At least they
At least they
At least they

At least

I mean

I hope they enjoyed the film

Plug your ears, son.

"Forget the sour patch kid
Bring on the baptism"

Contagious

She's pretty
She's got better
She's getting better
Her face is floozy
Her arms angelic
Her waist a wonder
Her gravity goddess

Tell her, you fool

Too bad for me
I don't have the heart

But I can't tell her that
She won't like that at all
So I'll be lying to her
No matter what

This is my stop
"I love you!"

Fucking idiot

5.21.2008

Undesirable

Rifling through peopled mains
Friends undiscovered
Strangers plenty familiar
For faces are faces too
Thank you painful old sailor
Hammering your hands
Addicted to repairs
Level your ignorance
Or bend your knee
And take a big long drink
As little guppies
Scum for food
Pondering the pond

5.14.2008

An English Play

An English Play
by Thomas Anawalt

An English Play

In thickly representative accents, the actors take their stage. A gathering of kings, if you will. They have with them an American in a cage.

Scottish: (Speaking to the American, slowly) American preservation of the arts...it makes me sick! American preservation of the arts...(getting very honest, even with himself, but quickly and cooly spoken) how poorly we treat the films that money sniffers can't distinguish with heads so far up their own craphole. It sickens me.
Orson Welles was treated poorly as an artist, didn't trust him. As an artist. Could if they wanted to do. But, then again. It could be wrong. (the English and the Irish are drinking) Could be thinking up some kind of pinball machine. A pinball machine that doesn't work. Of blind men- (returning to the Scottish and Irish but still talking to the American) Speaking of blind men. Jacks going to stay where he is for the time being. He wanted to be here all along. Didn't you, Jack. You have to fight your way out. I know it's crazy, but can't you see what I'm trying to tell you I love you. Groucho Marx said that. Can't you see what I'm telling you, I love you. Jack's going to stay where he is. He wanted to. Jack. You have to fight. I know, it's crazy - can't you see what I'm telling you - I love you. Marx. Do you remember? Can't you see what I'm trying to tell you, I love you. He sang. Yes he did. He sang. At least with his eye. His eye sang.

English: These bodies are not with the king that set up to tell stories. Of nothings. They riddle and ramble getting fool 'vices whilst vicing the fools. From any one who will offer them. I have seen it and will 't bare it no more. The players shall be killed. The idiots shall be killed where they stand. But enough on that. I've taken action! That's about everything.

Irish: Didn't expect so much rain.

Scottish: But enough on that. I've acted and done a bit of editing and documenting. Pinter and Shakespeare, some other William, Russian, The Iliad. That's about everything.

English: Thursday it was supposed to come.

Irish: Well, it should have then.

Scottish: Look at all that smoke. Can you see it?

Irish: Slow down. Take it in.

English: Can't take in smoke. That's hardly supposed to be what we do.

Irish: I didn't say take it. I said take it in.

English: Well I'm not deaf!

Scottish: Don't look at me.

English: Give it a rest then.

Irish: Make a job of it.

English: Health haven't you, you suffering pig.

Irish: Just enough to keep the home fires burning.

English heardsman: Oh Nooooooooooooooo.

Irish: Now what in the name of balding joseph's wrong with you?

English heardsman: I was pick up the weedsp eye yokel and trampled out to find just ending over there-

English: (approaching) Where did you find that- (as the heardsmen starts) come here! (he grabs the heardsmen's collar)

English heardsman: I half done not'n wrong!

English: Backwards heardsman!

English heardsman: (referring to his pants) I like it backwards!

Irish: Seconded you old trout! (points to his own pants, either to indicate that they too are backwards or that he wishes they were)

English heardsman: I neuur done anuthing to hurt no-one. Een't a fellah got rightin' tarun out a society?

Irish: Gotta pint!

English heardsman: As though it came from somewhere in my blood I had the appropriation to leave and just before I did just before I did. This gentleman assaulted me. I'll have none of it.

English: I'll give ya one.

(English brandishes his broadsword in a yell, kicks him to the floor, and cuts the man's head off. But as this happens, the curtain is drawn on the course of time for these men. They freeze. All except for Scottish who applauds and hurls great Scottish laughter, glaring at the American in the cage. The American, transfixed to the beheading, aches for a better look at the sword, craning his neck for a peek at the slaughter, only in a slight freeze, it is a freeze and stare, accompanied perhaps by deep breathing. Hold for Scottish laughter.)

5.13.2008

Sugar in the Raw

The young Jimi funks out to Day Tripper
Yes
Yes
Yes thrice and again
Twice then two
Pamela fuel in the vestibule
Making something you never have done
O
Gross explication
Fight fuck down
Luminous biological fixings
Who are you, sun shining, without me to receive your rays

Dream

i am legend
i am bored
i can ma...
i can has...
i carly
i carly.com
i google
i can has...
why has
only ma
yet has
puzzling

i love im
i love a ...

Judaism and Christianity and greater Islam, Practiced in Iraq

Here you can say what you damn well please!
And what is important is freedom of Practice,
Freedom being something which takes accountability
For any action of violent intent
With his own life
(upon his own everlasting soul)
That is the doom of politicians
And those who feed on the innocent

I think that a strange brew and good for you
We piddle and raincheck and gamble green
jk
Doesn't it rain then and check do we not
For our own sake and something forgot
Or not ever to be spoken of perhaps at all
Or pushed aside and broken and looked at and
Not a sigh or grin but something killed and something dead
And I am frightened of the people

Please God save me from people who kill without knowing if I am their enemy
The idea of an enemy revealing himself to be an enemy is a code of fighting
I am not your enemy
I am not your everything
I am not your obvious
I am not your liquid
I am not your balls
I am not your scratches
I am not revealed

As long as I stand on American ground let my president preserve me
And let me gaze shore upon shore.
And grant a mountain or two and cliffsides which I
Respect and fear
And sue to conquer
And eagles

Do not let the eagle become something other than an eagle, for the American way has strayed to forget the eagle itself. Not for its predatory nature, but for the fact that it flies and survives alongside. We're cancerous and wasteful.

Most of all we have forgotten ourselves

I am pleased to meet you

Great

Please check out some of the features of land, which God has made perhaps by erosion, and has not meant to be forsaken for its natural beauty. That means what you find with your eye is not yours to penetrate. There's more to such things than sight, and yet your eyes may play a-part. This land is your land this land is our land from California to the New York island, from the redwood forest to the gulf stream waters. This land was made for you and me. Some read that "We can therefore shape it as much as such suits me." My mountains, my valleys, my plains aren't anyone's suit except to see
It wears you
If you only knew
How to wear it properly

5.06.2008

Breaking News!

Stephen Colbert during last night's broadcast, made a little slip. It seems that when telling himself to stay angry at arch nemesis Korean pop star, Rain, Colbert referred to himself using a pronunciation hitherto unheard of. Most know the silent t of his name and the pronunciation "Coal-Bear," but last night the bronze medalist of influence was distinctly heard saying "Fight it, Coal-Burt, stay angry." Which is it, Mr. America man? Which is it?? Has your enemy caused you to faltaire? ...falter.

5.04.2008

Progress

He's afraid of Black people
But now he laughs about it with a brother
And they stare at one another kissing

5.01.2008

Squash Banking Conservation of Wealth

God told GW that he could hide in the Republican party
I don't need to listen to his whole speech to know that he's not going to tell me anything that they don't want to hear
I mean like any panderer
But that's where the Geebs is cleverer than some
Budweiser-drinkin' style, without the ummm...

Daily Doodle

I want to become a Republican
To eat their fucking heart
And once inside my belly
Maybe the fucking will be okay with itself
Funny how they do not bleed

An Open Letter to Jon Stewart

Dear Jon Stewart,
I have watched the Best, no, Not Just the Best of Larry Sanders. Have you seen it lately, because given where you are now its fun to see how you've always been cool. I am currently watching your April 29th broadcast. Booyah to the side-kick awesomeness. Nobody but you can make that shit work. I miss Ed Helms. I miss Vance DeGeneres. But what of that? Now The Daily Show with Jon Stewart has bigger fish to... Hey. Unclean.
And here comes Newt. Fuck him. Seriously. Bill Forstein wrote the whole thing most likely. That's the kind of phony he is. Studying McCain. Idealism v. Cynicism in your work, are you kidding me? That any Republican would feel good about ... ? Woman versus Black, the Republicans scoff. If any Republican listened to Senator Obama's speech and didn't cry, it's no wonder he would now accuse you of cynicism... Being hateful?!?!?! Is that what Wright is??? Puh-fucking leeeeez. This is a guy who is responding to a presidential candidate who essentially and very factually has retorted that black people are not angry, but are more complex and, yes, are not all about the intensity of rhetoric with which Wright chose to show his faithful condemnation of a corrupt body of politicians which has always been present in this country. Obama is trying to speak for more than just those who understand what Wright feels or had to express. Newt talks of Wright getting even. It's more about Wright reminding people that he is more than only what he has been blown up and decontextualized to be, but still has stuck true to his perhaps limited perception of the world. I still think Hillary should drop out.

Well at least Newt's for promoting books.

Thank you for making the airwaves a little saner.
-Thomas Anawalt, Columbia University '09

4.27.2008

Just Out of Ice

Smoking pot on a cot with a lot of hot spotted lillypad babies
Pass pass puff
Methods and subjects go hand in hand do they not

What some might call
Too soon
For me to catch the patch
I need to walk a hundred miles
And shoot myself in the head
Then I'll get up and find the woman
I'm legally obligated to tell you that I
Have no intention of carrying out anything
That I tell you

In other words, fly with me.

4.20.2008

a silent weeping willow
gazes neath
its windswept leaves

4.17.2008

Barbarians

I think the hurly-burly's done
The homo sapien's lost his fun
The spirit father's son of man
Can walk above, maintain his tan
There is no greater fish to fry
The fish beneath our feet do fly
But this man walks where we cannot
We must assure that he will rot
His magic does not understand
The limitations of a man
Look at him bleed
Look at him bleed
No other corpse is cause to feed

Song for the Girl

One look
One time
One form
Two blinks
Get thee to a nunnery
I'll meet you there
Underneath the barriers and headaches
Down in the pew
And your vagina light
Will sing, 'matter of fact

I think she's on fire

4.16.2008

Slammed Flat

Slowly you told me, I was beautiful and not you
I wanted to punch you in the face
Instead I jumped straight into your lap
Like some pussy. Never mind

One day music can rock this sad shit
Into a white sock. Hurl it at neighbors
Knowing in the hovering raisins
Of flying musical turds every which way
I will stick my nose in majestic and arrogant

4.10.2008

I'm Sick of the Kill

It's Cold These Days
And Nothing Pays
So Sit and Wait
For Purple Haze
Fool Me Once
Fool Me Again
Fool Me Again
Fool Me Again
fool me again
and again
and again

Something has been lost, a poem.

4.08.2008

Knowing Knotseams

You're the Shakespeare
You have to say what you mean
I meant you mean what you say
You have to mean what you say
I meant I have to
Mean
What you say
But I would have been saying
Not all snippets have a whole
Not all bliss will open doors
Not all burgers have a bun
Not all planets have a sun
Not all readers can digest
Not all ladies can protest
Not all sausages are mean
Not all meal is cooked so clean
Not all dancer's Balanchine
Or comparable to Ben Vereen
Not all thought can be controlled and
Every mountain is a mole

Until its got into his head
When asked to be or not to be
He boasts the pleasant answer, "Read."

4.04.2008

The Coffee One

The cup of coffee we share
Is two
One in my hand, one in yours
Sip, until the probable gulp
I never watch you take
Bars us from talk of elections
Our mouths turn and twist
From eyes to chairs and television
Clapping and aging alone
Acorns raining from the sky
Tormenting our dreams
Thinking twice

Casual Friday, Naked Tuesday

Wind instruments from the curb
Paint the picture that I see
Of the church and how
They gather people to praise
And to compel, the worse of them.
There shall be no compulsion.
When all is said and done
Who shall and shall not place
A hand upon your shoulder
Makes life worth living
And fuck is a breakfast pastry

3.24.2008

Egg and Peacock Revision and Preface

Before you read what is probably close to what I would have liked to print on www.Bwog.net if the privilege were mine to have limitless time in editing, I must apologize to Jonah Block-Johnson. Your play wasn't sexual. I've mended my review to more closely represent my thoughts on the word-play and its context. Also I fail to mention in all my review the wonderful band that introduced each play. They bellowed out a balls-out rendition of Strauss' Also Spracht Zarathustra and brought down the house. Jonah was the conductor of the band. They stole the show in between every play, though they of course peaked early with the Strauss.
-Thomas Anawalt

------------------

A night of student plays by any other name might not smell as sweet. Shall I compare thee to a Latenite anthology? Thou art more zany and more whimsical. A tad longer, too. The playwrights of KCST’s Egg and Peacock Festival were given starting lines for their works, and had to hand off a line for the next writer to take it and run with it. The imposition of the start/end lines offered playwrights the opportunity to dictate the silliness of what followed.

The night opened with "Demographics," (written by Chas Carey, directed by Will Scheussler) a more or less uninteresting power play between women. Enter highlight number one, Gabe Miner in frump-drag. "The Rise and Fall of Big Bank Films" (written by Andrew Martin, directed by Kate Stahl) came next and a funny little play it was. It involved prophesies of the upcoming election and drinking and clever dialogue. And I can't say for the life of me who or what the play was about. The third play, "The Abolition of Compassion" (written by Matt Herzfield, directed by Ameneh Bordi) contained the funniest scenario of the evening. An Islamic terrorist, played by David Iscoe, waltzes into a ladies room with thundering heavy metal, ready to kill, but refuses to gaze upon a breast. The fourth play, "Happiness in General," (written by Gabe Miner, directed by David Gerson) proved that opening the door from the hallway to light the darkened stage doesn't work dramatically and that dialog should always be audible. Mike Molina's play, "The Merit Badge" ended the first act. The direction by Dan Blank came together very well with the actors like a nightmare sitcom. Lakshmi Sundaram and Catherine Atwill played convincing boyscouts in the unlikely situation of cutting off murderers' dicks and deciding to ingest the evidence. With and without words, the two boyscouts received the biggest laughs of the 2 and a half hour marathon.

The second act was not for quitters. "Two Sausages" (written by Jonah Block-Johnson, directed by Mark Holden) was a mystery about sausages, dictated from the line at the end of Molina’s play, “Last time you said that, I was holding two sausages!” A change of subject at the start of Act II, while arguably impossible, could have been refreshing. "Old Lady Gets the Sack" (written by Josh Syzmanowski, directed by Beck Pryor) tickled me, I will admit. Sadly this was at the portion of the performance where the length of the individual plays started to become apparent. Jeff Julian wrote a play in which he played a writer who wrote poeticism into porn-scripts to the effect that nobody ever screws. This piece, "Esmerelda Does Edinburgh," (directed by Morgan Hardy) had its moments and was fairly convincing as a low-budget porn shoot set. Trying to find a tasteful way of calling it a period piece is not possible. The elaborate if not rather linear "Ruses are Red" (written by Abby Rosebrock, directed by Jake Green) contained several sex twists that repeated and repeated. Last but not least is "President Ricky Writes a Story" (written by Tyson Brody, directed by Jesse Horowitz). The play imagined a book series dedicated to a first Gay President, President Ricky. The series of novels was wrapped in a play about the peculiarities of artistic freedom, its imposed and natural boundaries as concerns profitability.

Fresh out of the 24 hour writing process, I can't badmouth one play for slapping the art of theater in the face. If anything they all slapped the face collectively together, and made merriment of it. Even the worst of the plays had its merit. If it wasn't the acting making up for the lack of apparent story (or vice versa), count on the sometimes beautiful and shocking moments that happen after a time-warped creative process like Egg and Peacock (one of the plays projected Obama as the Dem Nom and future prez). Though it looked like the writers had a good time, the rules seemed to limit rather than inspire dialog. A lot of the plays could have been sliced in half or maybe knocked off a third and still gotten the point across, if the play happened to have a point.

3.19.2008

Scandinavian Filmcourse 4

The line drawn between Alexander and Hamlet could be easily dismissed were Igmar Bergman's genius not comparable to that of William Shakespeare. Alexander, the young boy in Bergman's somewhat autobiographical film, "Fanny och Alexander," is haunted by the ghost of his father, a man of the theater who valued the little world inside of the theater's four walls. The value of the theatrical realm comes across from his father almost as an attack on the outside world. The film, from that moment forth, is an attempt by Bergman and by Alexander to ameliorate the father's grievances about the world outside the walls of the theater. In real life, Bergman's father was a clergyman, not an actor or director, but Bergman sees fit to haunt his cinematic alter-ego with the paternal ghost of the theater, as Hamlet's father famously haunts Shakespeare's Danish Prince.
If the Ghost in Shakepeare's "Hamlet" saught bloody vengeance and restoration of the crown, the vengeance which young Alexander takes up has a more subtly contrived artistic bent than an overt political one. Bergman always confronts the question of religion and punishment, but in "Fanny och Alexander" he breaks from the methods of his father and takes up a punishing force all his own. The step-father in the film enacts a ritual lifted from a practice of Bergman's real father, a clergyman. In his autobiography, "The Magic Lantern," Igmar Bergman describes the beating he'd receive from his father as well as his delight at his older brother receiving the brunt of the punishment. He continues, "After the strokes had been administered, you had to kiss Father's hand, at which forgiveness was declared and the burden of sin fell away, deliverance and grace ensued." Without any supper and without a bedtime story he would be sent to bed, relieved that the punishment had done its job. Pain was not the difficulty for Bergman so much as the humiliation. No doubt, he grew to resent his father's administration of this punishment, evidenced by the replacement of his biological father with the man of the theater in "Fanny och Alexander."
Whatever his artistic drives and wherever they were born, in no way could their origin be said to derive from any kind of certainty. Haunted by the ghost, like Hamlet, Alexander does not share with the Dane the clarity of a task. He can only look upon the ghost and remind himself, no, I am not Hamlet. As he is not the heir to a throne, let alone someone with a clear incentive to achieve that throne, Alexander's purpose becomes lost in mystery. Bergman enacts the mystery through Alexander's participation in witchcraft, the ultimate subversion of the Protestant church.
Bergman shares with Carl Theodor Dreyer a sympathy for the categorical sinner and persecuted enemy of popular religion. Where Dreyer seems to embrace witchcraft along with any of the evil power associated with it, Bergman can't help but explore the problems therein. No clear answer exists against the church, for even the union between Alexander and dark forces are born out of an emotional rebellion rather than ideological alignment against the tenets of faith. The sorcery which results in the fiery death of Alexander's gluttonous bed-ridden aunt is an expression of the boy's power over those who look down upon him, but it cannot be appreciated unless the artistic voice has expression here as well. Just as Bergman is able to usurp the his biological father with a ghost of the theater, he set fire to a figure of pomp, laziness, and superiority. He can use Charles Dickens, as well as witchcraft, to envelope the oppression and hypocrisy of his childhood in a conflagration. The importance of the action is artistic.
The massive aunt never deals directly with Alexander and as such the fire which consumes her must be symbolic. She is the representative of inertia and indifference facing the treatment of children within Sweden's religious household. Worse than the Step-father, this woman (played by a man) has no feelings of a higher calling to justify her slothful acceptance of the world around her, but has to be cared for as a sinless, joyless, inhuman blob. Witchcraft provides a haven for Alexander to destroy the aunt without being judged. Essentially it doesn't matter where his feelings can find expression so long as they can be expressed without the necessary retaliation of corporal punishment. He turns to another world, a system without a pretense of righteousness.
At the conclusion, Bergman does not retreat into the beautiful little world of the theater revered by Alexander's father, though one could certainly argue for the inclusion of the theatrical world at the film's conclusion based simply upon the nature of film. This story of Alexander's escape from the old religious household exists as a part of a fictional cinematic world. As Alexander is able to do once his rebellion finds expression, the darkness associated with the witchcraft elements has to be set aside as a means to artistic expression for Bergman and an emotional expression for Alexander. What occurs at the end of the film is a retreat into a newly conceived household, and a repetition of the ghost-father's reverence for the little world of the theater. The new world is that of the family, in which a man's sins are not the burden of the world so much as they are the burden of his wife, who will bear them, if she is wise, with a certain amount of forgiveness. It is by such forgiveness that Bergman imagines a happy household, regardless of moral imperfections.

3.04.2008

Sweltering Freeze

Hear, my nothing
The laughing ghost
As cries for blood
Spilled like more rain
On a warm winter's day

3.02.2008

Suspected of Suspense

Were you Alfred Hitchcock raised from the dead
Were you. Drizzling will... won't shut up and leave me.
It will only cramp my style. How depressing.
Quit telling me that less is more because I am
Smart enough to know; less is less and
More is to be gotten from "less" than from something
Which is "more," - too much or too little -
Never and anywhere
Between the middle

Jingle of Gingle

Can the Heavens never cease
To admit a something
In making themselves
Somewhat better than Earth
And yet can the Earth
In its infinite worth
Make some claims to the birth
Of the concept of heaven

1020

Corpunctual longing and hard woven tweed
Thirsty small girls knowing and not how to get a drink
Fifty-four pieces of silt and filth
Gums of madmen and current Presidents
Jasper and Halloway joking around
The 27th time
Jew ducks from El Nazarino
Jolted jingles and 1 jester
In jacketless humiliation
Dancing a waltz by himself
And cope is a word you just learned

3.01.2008

The Gutter Body

You can think there's a girl
Just over the highway you cross
Before the fields of wild berries
Underneath the orange peel
Found caught between
The smallest of the middle toes
Hey. That's where she is.

Us, fools

Did it or didn't it find some way of realizing what it was? The simple question that you can't answer. Forget about that anyway. You want to know what brought me here. Sorry. You want to know why I brought you here. I brought you here because of Love and Theft. That's right, the whole fucking album. Because it cuts. It has many songs, separated and riddled with cuts. Spaces made. Spaces that already exist are half the site of a cut. Who did the cutting at the Grand Canyon but the river? Certainly not mules. That's a river running long before we got there. And when I say we, I don't mean settlers. I mean the settled. The Television City Kids, numbed by the false horrors that they enjoy them. The ones who thought they knew less than old warrior folks until September 11, 2001. After that point it became increasingly apparent to them that they knew more. By the time 2008 came around we had dethroned a dictator in another country. That's worked out for us in the past so we gave it another shot, but it wasn't just some shot. It was a shot of his hanging and inspection and of a war. The war we fight thrives upon our fear of the people who come in and out of our building. What have they done to us? Fools. Fools... fools... fools.

Please please America, whoa yeah, like America pleases you.

2.26.2008

SC3

Tried to watch Dreyer's early films and felt compelled to cut that journey a little short. Of what I watched, Day of Wrath and The Passion of Joan of Arc were my favorites. The treatment of witchcraft and his continual focus upon satanic elements make Dreyer somewhat unbearable. The Passion of Joan of Arc deals in questions that have a more impressive bearing upon the church than Day of Wrath. Although the question of killing witches has its place, it seems out-dated compared with Joan's dilemma of a military tribunal manipulating her comments upon faith to justify condemnation beyond a status as military enemies. The hypocritical church would overlook its role in the military dialog of punishment.

Stuckness Minus St.

Some king
Listening to Bob Dylan
Like really listening
Fourtimes
Killed fifty mean tuesday type gentlemen
Hadtogetsomewheredeciding
On the hopethat itresolves
Fascists can suck my boot
Iwould notsuffer ahomelesspersontodothat
Iwould try to treat themasthough we wereequal people
But at thecrossroadsIcould still not give up my room
How I love the spacewhere Ihangmy draws
Kill therest of those bobs in their shelterclosets
If I can only hold dearly to my head and buttocks this chair, these keys
Do not even skip along the same grass as these six walls
Shelter from the cane
Now I'm not even close
To have a roof means to have a ground
For your children
Forbidden afternoon shaves
Busted flats on the way to Disneyland
Itallputsforththejourney and says
"If I were a movie how fun it all looks
And even in the confines of the room."
Something in that camera makes it all worthwhile I suppose

Its a trick!

2.22.2008

Story of his life.

This is the story. A ranger stepped onto the ground. Now this wasn't any old kind of ground like we're used to stepping on because this ground had thick, bulbous weeds growing like uprooted grass that's pulled from the ground like laid wire. But these big things pulled their own roots from the ground to churn the soil, so that their smaller roots could take further hold of the ground and move deeper to assure the home of this plant and its seed. Only nobody particularly wanted this plant around. Many of its kind choke flowers and other decoratives, who tend to have a more delicate speed of living.
The ranger had stepped on this kind of ground, in fact, for most of his life. When he was just newborn, he was only allowed to walk on sand. He was an adept baby and walked on sand quite well, even for a ranger. But to get bogged down in his history for now would only bore you, because at the very moment I speak, he steps. Once more.

And again. Stops. The ground squiggles under his feet. It tries to grow on him. No such luck. Something in the ranger thought of processed meat. The strange foot had calloused, like any good ranger's foot. The foot's strange to an average person, and it's strange to the grass. Waiting, is he, the grass might have begun to think. Taking him long enough. But if the grass knew the mind of a ranger, it would not be grass. The ranger darts, ditches, dares, stares, and kills.

2.11.2008

Serious to do list:

1. Learn to play/improvise guitar
2. Cut a dollar in half, tape it to another dollar I've cut in half
3. Read Moby Dick
4. Read the gospels
5. Read The Decameron
6. Read The Iliad
7. Converse with dream woman and others without self-conscience
8. Make a top 100 films list
9. Read Dante's Comedy
10. Play Hamlet and Laertes

2.10.2008

Between Them and the Films

Who am I listening to that makes me have to choose a "winner" between No Country for Old Men and There Will be Blood? I can love them in their own right. Love is a word for so many things and love for a film, Derrida would say, is a different kind of love from love of a person. It is in fact the only way he could say it (love for things/love for beings). So forget about the Coen Brothers or P.T. Anderson when looking at those movies. Because the fight already has forgotten, between them and the films.

2.09.2008

IM not Bitter

And adults sulk and sit alone
To pick at ever-thinning bone
In order, please, from one to three
Of sanity and memory

I hope to nothing, them in verse
Forthwith that rock and roll will be
To crud and mud the given curse
For little husbands, thinking free

She's making me the perfect man
I come to see what she has done
The cuts and ramblings of the plan
Scrape simple things and it'll run

I heart Hearst's hearse
Or head in reverse
Our villian scheme is dead
When was it jealous

Call them all my favorites too
Kris Kringle fits religious view
But they named it my favorites first
The bowl of jelly bound to burst

And adults jog alone
And memories
To pick at

2.07.2008

Rambo and Its Relation to Human Tragedy

I only saw it once. Once is enough. It just wasn't fun from the start so didn't get fun later on. It got redundant.

Rambo's the hero of the franchise. He knows what's going down because he's the greatest warrior of all time sort of thing. And Stallone doesn't do anything for the first 45 minutes but direct Asian men to torture Asian men and women by setting them through land-mine traps. The subjects of the violence and the graphic nature with which Stallone films it, and films himself, is too tended to observing (to the point of applauding) the violence for the entirety of its realistically oriented duration. The details of gore, and the torturous nature of most of it, with a dialog so self-conscious and contrived, falls short of watching the evening news and is nearer to the level of the hanging of Saddam Hussein.

New kinds of movies are an inevitability, but what we have here is pure savage gore trying to top itself in the realms of exhibited violence mixed with realism! Instead of any attention paid to the action filmmaking we are being hand-fed by a sadistically constructed nationalistic figure of pseudo-redemption spectacle. A film about sadists isn't a new or impossible concept, but Hitchcock knows that the most powerful and terrifying statements on the imagination leave room for it. See I'm Not There for how much Haynes trusts his audience to fill in the blanks. Stallone has filled in every conceivable blank with the process of watching Southeast Asians splatter.

1.24.2008

Newly met.

I'm hoping that most of what I've written on this blog will be taken as something half thought about. From now on I dedicate it to my criticism and sometimes perhaps to poetry. The rest is jargon and mental suicide in text format. It's just hardly an accurate representation of anything most of the time. So expect some opinions about movies. Expect for something to rhyme and other things to just annoy, if you hate when nothing rhymes. You know who you are.

Thanks for reading anything below. It's just a map to the realization that writing with words comes back to an origin without...without...without. Yea, some origin without has nothing to do with the endeavor, if I do. Maybe we're in it together. Signing off is the writer of all posts before this. Meet somebody new or get to know someone whom you have newly met.