Max and his friend were in their lair in the basement. Stella and I were in our lair in her room. We hid under the blankets. We received this letter. So we were like, bring it, bitches!
Mar 16, 2011
Perhaps I could drink less or do the laundry more. I may be able
to more frequently extend gracious gestures to strangers.
I could be a better teacher, father, husband, brother, and son.
I could be a better musician, lover, graphic artist and writer.
When at a restaurant, a person could always leave a larger tip
and I am certainly a person. Today, I saw a person flagrantly
litter and I did not
get up and retrieve the litter, but I did condemn her
in my mind, thinking, I was better than she was. I could be a better
person than that. I should probably be more gracious
with my forgiveness and should probably be less
hopeful for apologies. I'm really awful on the whole.
I should probably purchase less gas, less energy, less water.
I should do so much less. I should do less so much more
often. It's impossible to catch the guy who is leading
this race. But I could try harder. That's what I'm doing, Tina.
Motherfucker! What do you think this is about?
Mar 15, 2011
Arranging meetings is part of life and must
be attended to with
the same diligence applied to other aspects of life that are likewise
attended to. First, there must be a person elsewhere and
he or she will have to find a spot in the universe
coinciding with your spot in the universe
and at a specific hour, etc. In a perfectly namable
set of coordinates. How nice it is to have numbers! or not, especially
when they mislead you
into thinking an equal sign that might not even be possible.
You have hopes!
You make phone calls!
You do this stuff in anticipation of something, man!
This isn't just good times until it becomes something more.
A whole lifetime happens and is gone, in a sad way,
out of the door over the dirt floor.
You are alone with memories and voices through communication
and just a small, still drop of water falls through
A tear in your beard is a very great country song.
Though the education one receives about song-yness
is lacking, one must trust in something
to be pure about. Without some sense of self-rightousness
we'd all be naked little imps with no hard on.
Believe me, I'm open to certain possibilities! Trying!
Mar 14, 2011
I was standing there, like, no way! I'm not fucking kidding!
But there was another reality and that was a real deal happening
that was, like, not "no way," but, like, "yes, man, do it."
This terrible place in life that we move into, it's not ours for the taking,
rather, it's just ours.
Imagine the way police cars screech through traffic in a 1970's cop movie.
Imagine the reality television shows that show you humans who are worse
When you really consider the details, it's staggering. Or not. How do
you appreciate an older movie star actor or actress?
Do you like blue jeans and strut? Or satin and suave? It's not an
but not asking it would be a dereliction of duty. Course, there is
no duty, only empty fainting sounds.
The whole cast of faintees is semi-upset by their involvement, while
they understand there is no choice.
The ape in the circus is fake!
The cape and the top hat are fake!
Your little moon is beautiful!
Mar 13, 2011
The area around the area is the place
you're trying to find. You want to find this place,
lay down in it, rest your head or whatever
and then, man, you just deal with it.
This area, this placed area, is between the
verge and dirge of something else.
Many lonely people have witnessed and wrestled
with an extremely fast blue grass song, so much
so that there's nothing left at all to hear, even
the fiddle player who rattles in a number of
different directions at once, even that sound
couldn't be emptier. My whole life, with
people around me, many of whom I love a lot
and some of whom I get very tired of, we are
like cabins in a forest, drifting through the woods
only because none of us are real. Dear red-headed
children, dear lost little robins, dear poor deers,
rabbits, strong avian types, and whiskery cats, please
hear these problem I am trying to pinpoint. You know,
consider yourself a fucking dobro if you have to,
but the point is that you elaborate toward
something very funky and right-thinking. It doesn't
matter to any of us if you live or die. That's
not really the issue. There's something more to
consider, just understand what you're getting into,
Mar 12, 2011
Being a criminal is situational. Either
the situation or the act happens or
other things may happen. It's often awfully
ambiguous. The situation or action is
often palpable but also possibly not
happening. What doesn't happen happens
often. Often, the non-happening is happening
so frequently that you can't even feel it.
That's when the law gets involved and
they start hassling or not hassling you,
or taking you into to custody or not, and,
my friend, there you stand as a regular asshole.
Not alone in the world, but not exactly as
part of a team. At those moments you freeze
into an idiot that nearly everyone knows. If
they don't know you, they think they do or
want to. It's all the same. Meanwhile,
a goofy quilt of sameness seems ill-formed
and loopy. Like stupid after-dinner mints
and other ideas that aren't good or bad all
on their own. I just make it up. Like you,
a poor imagination.
Mar 7, 2011
Little Bird, Little Church
Above are youtube videos I made of songs from "Horses in the Chest". You know, I know nothing (other than what I learned doing these) about making videos or animation, but it's been a terrific way to waste tons and tons of time!
Mar 3, 2011
There is an action in the world referred to as
suicide and people take this action from time
to time and they leave behind friends and family
and loved ones of other colors and then those
people live with the loss of the person who used
the suicide action to leave this place for something
better. I don't mean for heaven, or nirvana, or
some sort of beach resort where there is always
an open bar and open buffet and parrots saying
words and beautiful people walking around in
angelic bathing suits. The something better they
are after is simply something not here, and so
they go, to see what is not here. And what they leave
behind is what is not here, anymore. They leave
this space that was once full of humanness but is
now full of a complete unfullness. And we, the people
looking at this unfullness, feel anxious and scared
because it was all so simple and so easy to accomplish.
To watch the world drain and become empty is easy.
There is suddenly more air everywhere. Everywhere
you look all you see is more air. And air is a good thing
but more air is scary and so you try to breathe it
all in as quickly possible. There is this idea that you
can convert it to life. And you can. It just hurts.
Mar 1, 2011
Kent Johnson was critical of the fact that I allowed some of my poems from Poetry! Poetry! Poetry! to be included in The Best American Poetry 2010. So he wrote me an e-mail and told me. I appreciated his interest. Then he asked me if it'd be cool if our exchange was published in a newish, very cool, journal from Micah Robbins, Sous Les Paves. I said, sure, okay. So that is what is above.