Sunday, May 31, 2015


A Butterfly’s Effect on Anxiety

Last evening’s network outage
caused a big stir, but under
tonight’s moon, a beautiful
soup sits on a white stove.

The cat purrs like a yogi.
I walked all the way to
after dancing at Ruby

Skye all night on
Saturday, so I missed
work on Monday.
On Tuesday, I

required the assist-
ance of a cane to get
to work.  Me, with
a walking cane!

Otto has a thing for
bike messengers, so
it’s too bad about
the rain.  An

External hard drive
shows up between
8 and 9 p.m.  It is
male in structure

and smoking hot,
and so I asked
him if he’d
like some.

Friday, May 29, 2015


Science and the rotation of enjoyment.
                                                     —Basil King

The oddity of fighting with fans.  Fan-fighting.

(Just briefly, from the box...)  It is
the rainiest March in the record-
books, or something.  The network
is confusion in front of me.  Perhaps
I forgot my glasses again.  Perhaps
I left my glasses on the dancefloor
again.  In the taxi cab again.  Do I
spend another very large sum on
a pair of glasses?  Back in the

Rainy, rainy winter/spring.  Otto
and I exchange words via tiny
computers.  Via Google without
goggles.  He has sent me these
after I presented a comment
about the oddity of fighting
with fans.  Having now seen
this phenomenon occur in
several films.

Fold-out fans.  The ones when in
hot weather, say, or of a Sunday
morning when the pastor goes on
for five or ten minutes too long, 
one opens like a V and one 
waves to cool one’s face.  
Made of paper.  Or any 
of various metals or 
synthetic materials.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015


For love we pursue.  For entertainment
the movies give us an endless supply
of androgynous characters.
                                        —Basil King

The mummy says Whoops! as
he falls into the hole.  Pause

story.  I think I’d like to try
polygamy.  I walked to the

fancy restaurant.  I am a
person who says fancy

restaurant.  An unknow-
able amount of pleasure

fills me as I am writing
to let you know that I

walked to the fancy
restaurant in the rain

from a business location
a few blocks away and

several stories above.
It hurt.  There were

shocking pains at my
chest and on top of

my heart, also.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015


I’m attempting to avoid
all doctors until after the
White Party.  Maybe
that’s just stupid.  I

paid a guy $200 and
now my drive is hard.
I’m in pain, asleep
at work.  Rainy.  Painy.

A few feet from my
desk lies a tube of
peanut butter filling.
I’m telling you this

story during a storm,
standing in a puddle,
with an attack-heart
and a head-bludgeon.

One eye isn’t opening.
Fortunately, I keep a 
toothpick in my pocket to 
keep the other eye open.

Monday, May 25, 2015



Last night lurked briefly
on a scale of one to ten.

Last evening the work-
out cycle seemed regular,

but now it is nothing but
full of the hurt runs and

a limp that causes the
splits.  Maybe it was

just something stupid
to keep me from getting

up.  To keep me from
walking.  I tip my hat

to everything I pass
during today’s

never ending joy.

Sunday, May 24, 2015


Otto is shopping
with his brother
in Chinatown, ex-
changing emails
as I write this.  I
keep forgetting what
everything is called. 
There’s butter and
flower and ball and
pig with mustache. 
But what’s the
purpose of each?
I know that this is
umbrella but what
does it do?  Is it a
thing to grab hold
of so that you rise
toward heaven?  The
elevator is dizzy and
the books that protrude
from that wall of blue
are checking me out.
That wall is spindrift.
The foam of the sea
that is captured and
poured into a por-
celain cup is my
breakfast of
green tea.