mmdvii

Curtains

The toilet won’t shut up.  But

what will motivate me up and

out of bed?  It’s 3:03pm.  Erin

and I went to a backyard

filmfest out near Irving & 9th

on Friday night.  It says right

here that it was fun, but I do

not remember it.  At all.  Ex-

cept the mosquitoes.  And

purchasing repellant and

watermelon Schmirnoff Ice

with which to watch.  But

Erin’s short film I still

have yet to see.  Some-

thing didn’t go well with

the DVD player.  Later,

I met up with some flirty

friends at The Cinch.  And

then somehow wound up

at Dragon (for no more

than five minutes, though;

attempted too large an

argument on the phone...)....

Timing.  Are all nerds losers?

This time it was my fault

for certain.  The toilet still

sings like there’s no tomorrow.

I sit up in bed, its sole occupant

at my home of eleven some-odd years.

mmdvi

Boo Hoo!

“I believe it is a combination

of a lot of things, many of

which I am not sure of,”

is an exact quote.  Page

2,532.  Another Tuesday.

Oh, woe is me, and boo hoo!

Pick your damn self up

and get back in line!  I

want to take pictures at

an average rate.  There

is too much work in

the afternoon.  My hand

cramps as if I’m actually

writing a letter, probably

to Gary.  The sticky frogs

aren’t sticky enough.

Sure, I could complain

all week.  What is a game

I play with myself while

listening to something

that sounds happy?  Big

frown full of crocodile

tears: happy birthday,

happy Easter, and

Merry Christmas!  I

could do this until dawn.

mmdv

NOT ABLE / UNABLE / DISABLE

It is Tuesday

and I want a

digital camera.

There is too much

work this afternoon,

I think, sipping coffee,

after a long email to

Diane, who has written

me several real letters

to which I have yet to

respond.  I don’t re-

member Fanny &

Alexander at Erin’s,

but I remember

packing the boys

up on Saturday

and stuffing the

two of them

into a big U-

haul truck.

Big state of

remorse.

mmdiv

huge dogs breathe in the hall.

                      —Mark Lamoureux

Men who are dogs.

                No.

Men who love dogs.

           ±±±

Boys who love dogs.

           ±±±

Dogs who eat boys?

                No.

Dogs who eat men.

           ±±±

        Grown-ups

        Dogs love.

        ±±±

Men who love

        Boys who love

                     Dogs

mmdiii

Missing

Or whatever.  If you’re

only allowed this one

line?  Pick yourself up.

Recover.  Don’t eat the

poison.  There will be

others.

mmdii

I call upon a poem.  Who am I?

Exhibit A: drinks with Two

at Lush Lounge while Otto

is cavorting with his colleagues.

Otto is to join the two of us

(Two and myself) at Sushi

Rika in a couple of hours,

so in the meantime Two

and I, the both of us, are

being forward in our

drinking.  “That is one

choice cut,” he says, for

example, drooling

only a little bit.  And I

agree, sipping and

mmm-ing.  Who needs

a third wheel to feel

good (just because I’m

a dog doesn’t mean I

would like to have one

of my own, for example),

et cetera?  But all I see

at the moment is the

big hole in everything

I look upon.  Literally,

often, holes, gaps,

important stuff missing.

Where’d he go, for example?

“I’m not here,” I say.

“Will anyone be

joining you?” asks

Jean through a

tube sock or an

injection.  She’s

been waiting for 

all three of us at the

place that used to be

called Ginger’s Trois.

mmdi

Pine Cone

Help!  I’m turning into a

prima donna over here!

So, of course,  I immed

iately IM Erin about it:

“What should I do?” I

ask.  It’s been a snaky w

eek, I think, as I await

her reply.  Which turns

out to be none other

than “Office gossip

not good.  Should

sanitize.”  Later,

after purchasing lub

rication (because it

helps me smile bet

ter), I’ve a date at

the Disney Museum.

I live in San Francisco,

not Los Angeles or Flo

rida or Tokyo, so I cum

pleatly change my mind

about Walt.  After such

an epiphany, what’s

there to do but take

photographs of pine

cones lying on ass

fault in the Presidio

(very nearby the

museum – it’s as if

it were impossible

to move for a while,

having learned at

the museum why I

learned how to moo

v in the first place).

Nothing whatsoever

distracts.  This fact

extends the weak

end into record pro

portions.  Even such

things as awaiting a

bus or stopping off

for Thai food on the

way home at a place

never before encou

ntered.   By anyone.