Saturday, March 30, 2013

mdccclxxiv

My heart is a mutilated snake farm.
                               —Jack Kimball

Do you think maybe I’m reading
too many books at once?  But I have
the luxury of doing it all from home
now.  I do it all at home.  There’s a
fly in the living room and your chest
is on fire.

You don’t have to wait until Sept-
ember to feel defeated, that’s for
sure.  I couldn’t answer so I went
to Philip Whalen.  This works out
well so we all go to pizza at a joint
on Fillmore.  It’s close to where our
dance instructors live.

Also, yesterday I had a board meeting.
Then birthday cake at the cha cha pad.
Then Bottom of the Hill for a difficult
resignation.  After that we had lunch
on Portrero Hill.  Then we walked to
Union Square and took MUNI to the
Castro for dessert. 

Sorry, that was a trick question.  There’s
never any decent dessert in the Castro.


Friday, March 29, 2013

mdccclxxiii

All the Songs I Can’t Write

I make a list of everything I’m
reading to make things better.
The secret of my sorrows
called me yesterday to ask me
why he is all alone.  I couldn’t
answer, but I got over that as
well.

The great sex of a heated
discussion can feel like
defeat.  Often, when I
see or hear the word
‘defeat’, I can hear
my father saying
defeat of deduct
goes over defense
before detail.  So
now I don’t feel sick
or hungover, even though
the secret of my sorrows
just dissed me again online,
even though Jerry says his
wife doesn’t get good medical
benefits where they’re sending
me tomorrow.  Nor a good
retirement plan?  Whatever.
I would still say that I had
a fairly wholesome weekend.


Thursday, March 28, 2013

mdccclxxii

Found: World’s oldest message in a bottle.
                            —a tweet from Roger Ebert

I look around for a few friends who still turn
red with rage when they hear people speaking
loudly into their cellphones while aboard public
transportation.  Or use the word ‘hella’.  We all
go shopping at Macy’s and Banana Republic.

The party on Sunday had a cast of thousands.
There were a few memorable standouts, like
the big guy who is moving to San Antonio
and the queeny guy from our nation’s capital.
And the underage brainless hottie that we all

feel responsible for, in some way.  Nobody
knows yet which of us he idolizes.  Speaking
of underage, how about that video of seductive
dancing that shone the spotlight on You-Know-
Who?  If you ask me, that’s when the night got

strange.  None of us have trade secrets any
more.  It took several games of Scattegories
to soundly nip that rhinocerous in the bud.


Wednesday, March 27, 2013

mdccclxxi

I just glanced over the phrase ‘social obesity’
and I don’t know what it means but I LOVE it!

Everything is shorter than a sound bite these days.
But seriously, everything is shorter than a sound

bite!  Even couplets are worthless.  This morning’s
interview with Clint Eastwood was the best (he was

there in spirit).  Then we walk down to the river
and sit for a while.  The water flowing.  Everyone’s

bitter but me.  I continue decompressing for a bit,
read a few books, research 21st century methods

of saying hello, live better, and look better.  Having
dropped off the Altima, we walk to the office to

watch the fireworks.  Everyone seems good about
leaving, including me.  I feel good about that.


Tuesday, March 26, 2013

mdccclxx

In my Nissan Altima we drive to Big
Sur for a deck breakfast with a heater
lamp for ultimate comfort.  Earlier
I marked the stroke of midnight with
a rush of faces and started reading
Kathy Acker for the first time (My
Mother: Demonology).  Everyone
decides to go shopping, so it’s
very peaceful.  A feisty jay keeps
flying in to pick up sugar packets
and carrying them off into the
trees.  Everyone I saw last night
was bored, sad, boring, and had
taken a hit of ecstasy.  Looking
into the mirror to reflect, I am
so happy with myself.  I think
about extra money and new
ways of looking at life.


Monday, March 25, 2013

mdccclxix

I somehow remember two years ago
as the nuts roll down the hill.  Slowing
down for some chocolate butter and
tiger balm.  Later, truffles on the ocean.

We didn’t act.  Like boats, we talked,
sipped wine, our ever-glowing host
recounting his camerawork for Days
of Our Lives and Santa Barbara,

while Mom & I watched The Young
& the Restless like traitors.


Sunday, March 24, 2013

mdccclxviii

I’m emotional icing.
                     —Jack Kimball

Lunch on Highway One. The boats
come and go.  Grey Whale Cove Beach
not less perfect in the morning haze.  So
far to decompressing.  The last living room
window gets replaced (afraid it’ll pop ou
and slice someone in half down below...)...

Step six of six: waiting for items to copy.
A very sobering fact.  Scratch that.  It’s
just plain maddening watching the boats
come and go.  Too much food in the belly
driving to Lovers’ Point, slowing down
around Homescapes, my favorite
furniture store in the world...

The turding gulls and the schools of
fish and our teeming selves must
certainly stir up an overly dramatic
vista.  Surely somebody
is watching.

Wax flowers are harsh.
                     —Jack Kimball


Saturday, March 23, 2013

mdccclxvii

Hot Pictures of Me Holding Sunflowers

I went to the bathroom in jeans, then gave notice
on Thursday.  And I never even got a little mental 
time.  Bummer.  Money is making me sick, I don’t 
want it anymore.  The frustration is insurmountable.

Saturday night feels like a song by Ray Stevens.
We talk about logistics and then rapidly fire. Talk
about logistics.  Please.  Even if it’s during my
professional business plan meeting.  Gone like

up in the air.  I will learn to increase my at-
tention.  To genetically multiply like brain cells.
Gone in a puff of air.  With overtime and bonus.
Hard to be frank without letting her know it’s my

five year anniversary.  I’m going for a duplicitous
walk during lunch.  Leaving a trail of albums.  And
not just the broken records.  It’s such a mystical day,
reading Ronald Johnson in the hammock.  A sleepy

30 hours or so of a flawless vacation.  I’ll
always believe in the perfection of the
equanimity of this very moment.



Friday, March 22, 2013

mdccclxvi

Dear Michael,

The birds this morning know
that they are cheap.  Can you
hear them gossiping on the sill?

Things now are more like poetry
than ever.  But it’s impossible to
get down.  And it’s impossible to

get any of it down.  Scratch that.
I’m way down.
So I float through the movie

like a child, hopefully.  Float
hopefully through the movie.
To float on the hope of a child

rather than a nuisance
....   ...that’s the definition of
‘boot camp,’ isn’t it, to create

nervous breakdowns in a bunch
of people, and then rigidify them
as a unit,  says Stan Brakhage

[desparately] to Christopher
Luna.  I don’t know where
I am but I can hear the

shower.  On my face
is a clown made of
icing.  On my 7th

birthday is a brown
cake with a huge reposing
clown made of icing.


                                 Touchdown,
                                 Breakdown


Wednesday, March 20, 2013

mdccclxv

          Is anyone not a ghoul?
                       —Alice Notley

I’m hanging out with BigJo1958
and I want desparately to
unbutton my jeans.


Tuesday, March 19, 2013

mdccclxiv

I need the ghosts.  I’ve got to get
to the ghosts now.

A stomach churning spaghetti
over a postcard.

From the perspective of the
stomach.

Get a lens on this.  I potentially
have two hours

to write it all down.  Packing away
the limbo I’m in.

I’ve been in.  Partitioned funk.  I
look better

at the movies than I do on a
dancefloor.

The shame of.  The shame of.
I need

to be there in person.  Manic
toxicity & all.

Are you up to speed?  In
general?

Let’s read a few
books.


Monday, March 18, 2013

mdccclxiii

What I thought I saw wasn’t real at all.
The word for the capacity (or more like
propensity?) to make something last a
very long time.  Much longer than usual.
The opposite of waste.  Today’s lesson in
addiction involves conservation.  The...
capacity...to think outside of the box when
others just assume you’re listening to other
people’s conversations.  To stranger’s
conversations.  And so that’s what you’re
writing down all over and about the page.
Why are you mad at me?

In my (silent) head I think Katy Perry.  She’s
my dead cat.  How I have possibly afforded
such silence I will never know.  It’s all
sinking in.  About the interview.  And
I’m just eating it up.

So I break the silence with Hungry Like
the Wolf and work on irony for thirty
minutes.   What if after two and a half
years I’ve completely fogotten how to
multi-task???

At issue are brain cells and the elderly.
Or elderly brain cells.  Or not enough
patience.  And the elderly.  Or look
into the eyes of crazy.  Looking at me
like a freakshow all freaking me out
because you’ve the golden eyes of
crazy.

Your eyes are crazy and they burn
right through old brain cells.


Sunday, March 17, 2013

mdccclxii

Yes, We Have No Bananas

Here at the Posture Foundation
we’ve been using words incorrectly
for decades.  Ironic, expected, and
somewhat pleasant to hear.  Worry
less about Alzheimer’s is Mom’s
favorite phrase.  I can see the
picture now.  Not in an envelope,
but telepathically (I’ve been watch-
ing way too much Futurama).  But
why would he so rather stare at my
name on a computer than say hello?
The foam on the top of this latté
has given me that sinking feeling
again.  Meanwhile, back at the
Ponderosa, the tide is in.  And
with it, memories of another
rejection (apparently for 
bringing up astrology 
during a job interview).


Saturday, March 16, 2013

mdccclxi

A Splash of Rabbit

     x: u got any private pics?
     y: hm not in here but I cd
         send one or two.  do u
         have any face pics?

Everyone nearby is tired of me.  But
it’s ok I made a plan.  We’re going
to see Batman tonight.

I have added mercurial to my list of
bonus words.  You get extra points
for saying it.  (note: bonus words

get old fast).  Wednesday I keep
talking.  I’m becoming rather raw-
looking, struggling, juggling. 

But we’ve two new cuties
in the office.  I have leapt
into this alternate universe

just to consider office cuties
for the very first time (that’s
one giant leap, I might add).

I surmise that it is better than
dog or cat.  Somewhat.  I do
the dance and jump back to

look at a whole lot of nothing.
Then I sent a note to yesterday.  It
promptly replied, berating me

for never saying hello online.
(ALSO please note that
bonus words get old fast!)


Friday, March 15, 2013

mdccclx

Who’s in Charge?

On Sunday we start the
Ribbon Brigade.  Which is
colorful and not just for
managing long hair.

There are many uses
for humans such as
us.  I once thought
of importance.  Daily.

Managing such
announcements
is heady work; it
keeps one from

finishing projects.
Or issues of
anniversary.  The
Michael Jackson verdict

is in (is out?).  This gets
me to thinking that there
have been numerous
Michael Jackson verdicts.

How will I ever know
which one?  As reference,
here am I: a changeling.


Thursday, March 14, 2013

mdccclix

Ripped from the Headlines

This past few nights, as
inelegant as they have
been, TRUST.  Four
ugly gashes in the
head of condescension.
Dry as a cactus or bones
(I keep losing my pen.
I’ve been right here
for hours.)....  So
I was fairly religious
as a kid.  [The dog
in my head.  The
neighbors lean over
a new word.]  In
place of photo
identification I am
just plain fucked up.


Wednesday, March 13, 2013

mdccclviii

Things That Kill Brain Cells

     “The only ones who write like that are off the grid now,” said Gilles.
                                                                                  —Dana Ward

This broth is so good I could drink it forever.  Then I
look at the photograph of my great grandmother
(“Mombam”) and me in her rock garden.  She was
pretty short (I only now realize).  You better wake up.

I realize that I am confused.

Previously, the dog barked into my head.  The
wrong way.  Suddenly there is silence.  My hand,
my entire arm, is trembling.  A meter above my
left foot.  (I only wrote meter because it would be

funny?

to write my hand is trembling a foot above my
right foot.)  (Which is it, however, my right or my
left foot?)  (And plus Mombam was a Van Meter
by marriage).  Then I think about the 1970s.

It doesn’t matter what I do or what I say.  This,
for example, is my second double-cup of broth
(and this time it’s only chicken).  After an un-
happy moment, we enjoy the rest of the weekend.

Love is like that, I think, years later.  Whether
at Cafe du Nord watching Gravy Train perform
or paddle-boating on Stow Lake.  That’s a car.
Vvroom!  There goes a motorcycle.  It is July 1.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

mdccclvii

Bio

I don’t like
the sound of
they are bar
king into my
head.  I am
so sure that
you are not
done yet.
The human
neighbors
are also
loud.  All
they can
say is
bloody
mary.


Monday, March 11, 2013

mdccclvi

In June of ’38 I found an
exhilerating surprise.  In
fact, I found way too many.
It was the weekend we saw

Mysterious Skin.  So much
on my mind
needs to settle.  On Thursday

he left in a great huff.  Hi,
it’s over.  I tried calling.  So
of course I was calm.  A lot
of people, when he’s red

like that.
He looks at me as if I’m
crazy.

Love is like that.  So I try
to calm him.  This must be
one of my needs.  Even if
I fantasize as such,

no excuses.
Relax, and give it a
three out of five.



Saturday, March 09, 2013

mdccclv

A Proposition Abducted By A Void,

spoken from high up on a plain, or
from a high plain, while unbuttoning:

“It doesn’t matter what
I say (or do), I still
very much have to
use the bathroom.”


Friday, March 08, 2013

mdcccliv

So what’s your card?  (There should be 4.)

Half of it is moisture.  Do you know
the other half?  (The other half is
Why can’t you play along?)

The oncoming tempest has been invoked in its
beauty because it’s us.  (A. Notley)     Isn’t
channeling fun?

I draw sleep for two hours, channeling;
and channeling hungry, whose words
I’m avoiding, even here. 

What is your second card, or the
cause of your second card?   And
where did you find the fourth card?

To toss it off just like that.

          You’ll never figure me out; but
          you owe my baby, and you owe me.
                                             —Alice Notley

I know what she’s thinking.  (YOU UPSET
PARTY WEEKEND!!!)

It’s ok.  Go to sleep.  You’ll never find it.


Thursday, March 07, 2013

mdcccliii

I’m a big boyfriend, holding
my insides.  I have to say
something, I suppose,
and it’s neither in my
nature nor healthy.
Tim says we should
do more than wonder
about science.  Only he
really says silence.  And
probably that’s alarming.
Like a clock or a ghost.  So
we start to channel.

       and you believed
                   —Alice Notley

This is only card number two
and we all have to deal with it.
Or not deal with it
(depending).
We hunker down
to work as hard as we can
on the third card: The Vintage’s
Vantage.  And it’s a repeat card. 
There should be four cards total
when you get a repeat.

Somehow the mood swells
as we get into it—as the
fourth card readies itself.

Wednesday, March 06, 2013

mdccclii

Who’s Winning?

Where’s the word I got from his
very offensive email?  I found it
in the sanctuary of right answers.
Like heaven, lighting equipment
is not a roman numeral.  But I am
a super-sleuth.

                         He shares this with me
like breaking legs, breathing on all fours.
I want to unbutton but step back instead.
The announcer steps back.  Am I this
out of touch?

True stories are like not owning up to
who we are.  There is no such thing as
a light touch.  We are barreling down
the hill, stepping on hot dogs
and tamales.  And later, we
vacuum and tuck each other
deep within.


Tuesday, March 05, 2013

mdcccli

Peek-a-boobie

     I have a northern erection.
                                —overheard


Hey, that’s an uber-stylish cut (it was a
trick question, by the way).  Let’s rest
before we face another mood.

So we rest in our tall black seats (a
greedy one snoring away beside us)
at the salon school celebration.  Where

Ariana Giselle Illuminati (actual name)
knocks herself out chasing Lil Kim
from Donna Summer.  Her head hit the

floor like a cucumber.  Nobody came
shooting through a pipe like a
Costco receipt (as you had predicted)

but it was nice to be a hero.  I’m sorry
you lost to Bette Davis (yes I really meant
the big hippo) though I’m surprised how

much of it you have left.  In my nature
there’s a silver screen stuck under my
eyelid blinking Heaven’s Gate as if

cliche.  Whose masterpiece will you be
in forty years?  Another piece of intercourse
that won’t allow the children in?  Sure, it was

floppy like the Spice Girls, but who honestly
likes being inside a spice.  Only friends are so
easily tempting.  That’s why speaking porn

is totally how to handle it.


Monday, March 04, 2013

mdcccl

What’s fun is that we didn’t.

Last night one of those
rare events that light up my
memory banks – a photoshoot
with me as the subject.

Brain is crackers on nature.
But you beat me at cross
words, you said.  Pie fight!
And I thought it was high five!

Thirsting for color, I eat pie.
Pies cost lives in Sri Lanka.