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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 out

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

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.

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

mdccclxv

          Is anyone not a ghoul?

                       —Alice Notley

I’m hanging out with BigJo1958

and I want desparately to

unbutton my jeans.

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.

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.

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).

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!)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.