i ran an experiment yesterday, deciding to forgo my typical, obsessive hypergraphic tendencies and allow the day to carry me wherever it chose, without pausing long enough to write anything down. my decision was motivated by an especially lengthy (enjoyable) waking, and by the time i went to bed, i had seen two belly dancers, a girl walking a stuffed marmot, and one man wearing a robe to the movies. but this is beside the point.
the point is: "the Dude abides."
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
(how did i get here?)
my yin is in the living room talking to herself in some strange language, and i am in the bedroom reading about Hunter Thompson as a teenager. it is 6:43am and i hear a garbage truck outside. but this is beside the point.
the point is that Jache bailed on me yesterday, and to pass the time i ended up buying a pair of very long shorts in the middle of a deluge. i have started some manner of workout routine, and i spent 25 minutes yesterday morning on an elliptical machine trying to keep my pants from falling down. the new shorts are dark gray, part mesh, and all ugly. they are la chose juste, however, for one simple reason:
the point is that Jache bailed on me yesterday, and to pass the time i ended up buying a pair of very long shorts in the middle of a deluge. i have started some manner of workout routine, and i spent 25 minutes yesterday morning on an elliptical machine trying to keep my pants from falling down. the new shorts are dark gray, part mesh, and all ugly. they are la chose juste, however, for one simple reason:
drawstring.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
a rainy afternoon with Jache
Jache came over yesterday to help me with some editing, and we spent a couple of hours trying to stay on focus, completing 62.5% of our task before the coffee cascading down the kitchen cabinets became to great to ignore. i had a headache and suggested we reconvene in two days time, but this is beside he point.
the point is he called me from the parking lot:
"hello?"
"come out here, there's a blue dildo in your parking lot."
"i'm on my way."
Jache was right about the poems, and he was right about the dildo. there it was, lying on the wet asphalt, a deep gooey blue that was equal parts disgusting and fascinating.
"you should bag and label it."
"what kind of a beast are you?"
"it's for evidentiary purposes."
"i'm not keeping it in my apartment."
"well, at least take a picture."
i agreed to his compromise and returned inside to fetch my camera.
the point is he called me from the parking lot:
"hello?"
"come out here, there's a blue dildo in your parking lot."
"i'm on my way."
Jache was right about the poems, and he was right about the dildo. there it was, lying on the wet asphalt, a deep gooey blue that was equal parts disgusting and fascinating.
"you should bag and label it."
"what kind of a beast are you?"
"it's for evidentiary purposes."
"i'm not keeping it in my apartment."
"well, at least take a picture."
i agreed to his compromise and returned inside to fetch my camera.
Monday, May 25, 2009
two conversations
i had two conversations last night with loved ones in Las Vegas and Boulder. approximately, they went something like this:
"blah blah blah... hippie-fucker... blah blah blah"
and
"blah blah blah... I've got altitude sickness and a sore vagina,
but otherwise I'm fine... blah blah blah"
but this is beside the point.
the point is i woke up this morning, stretched, wrote and drank coffee (decaf). i took a shower and as i shaved, a single sentence came to me, a sentence i've been waiting for, for a long, long time...
"blah blah blah... hippie-fucker... blah blah blah"
and
"blah blah blah... I've got altitude sickness and a sore vagina,
but otherwise I'm fine... blah blah blah"
but this is beside the point.
the point is i woke up this morning, stretched, wrote and drank coffee (decaf). i took a shower and as i shaved, a single sentence came to me, a sentence i've been waiting for, for a long, long time...
Sunday, May 24, 2009
one year (time is a scam)
on this day last year
i was writing things like this
to myself:
i was writing things like this
to myself:
she gave her two weeks notice (yesterday)
and this is a reflection of a reflection
of two weeks in September.
i watched her sleeping (briefly)
in my bed last night
same yellow boots she wore
for one night in September.
i looked at the crease in her skirt
where hip meets delight
and breathed.
the night before
i was sending emails like this
to my self:
i was sending emails like this
to my self:
C____,
this may be the kookiest experiment i have ever run; it is a practice in circles. the hypothesis goes something like this:
le denouement is about to begin
with a handful of circles,
one on top of the other.
Mardou,
le petite les bien,
et ma soeur,
it's circles all the way down.
i will talk to you tomorrow,
j_____
Saturday, May 23, 2009
copper yes, pennies? no
there are no pennies in my mouth, but the taste of copper remains.
i am sitting in a small dim room, inside of large dark room, listening to "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" being sung badly. the roof is leaking, the buckets are gone, and yesterday i watched undistributed movies for twelve continuous hours.
there is one half cob of corn digesting somewhere in my stomach, and this morning i watched the right reverend R______ relocate a wedding to a locale less inclement. my arch-nemesis is one of the groomsmen, (sadly), i have neither the time nor inclination to torment him. i suppose that makes me something of an anemic nemesis, a mimesis of nemesis if you will.
(i will write nothing of any points this day,
last night i dreamed of a madman, a hospital, and a plan to market a flying car. he asked me (in the dream) "how much do you wanna make, you gotta have a number. i say twenty million, twenty million each." this madman (in the waking) is an autonomen, and nearly two years ago i wrote a poem about him (and his bride) that has yet to make it beyond the title...
i am sitting in a small dim room, inside of large dark room, listening to "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" being sung badly. the roof is leaking, the buckets are gone, and yesterday i watched undistributed movies for twelve continuous hours.
there is one half cob of corn digesting somewhere in my stomach, and this morning i watched the right reverend R______ relocate a wedding to a locale less inclement. my arch-nemesis is one of the groomsmen, (sadly), i have neither the time nor inclination to torment him. i suppose that makes me something of an anemic nemesis, a mimesis of nemesis if you will.
(i will write nothing of any points this day,
and a wise woman once told me: [SEE BELOW]
last night i dreamed of a madman, a hospital, and a plan to market a flying car. he asked me (in the dream) "how much do you wanna make, you gotta have a number. i say twenty million, twenty million each." this madman (in the waking) is an autonomen, and nearly two years ago i wrote a poem about him (and his bride) that has yet to make it beyond the title...
"everything is beside the point all the time.")
Friday, May 22, 2009
... as a character from Brontë (3:27 am is like)
[a dream of her, completely crazed and threatening... trying to set fire to the house on 163, shredding cheese all over the floor to use as an accelerant... she accidentally sets fire to herself... i splash water to put it out, staying out of arm's reach... the house is flooding, an old black man bears witness to it all]
Thursday, May 21, 2009
4:25 am is like
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Boulder rocks
my yin is leaving for Boulder in a few hours, and after she contorts herself in the living room floor, we're going to eat some fruit and sit around with our eyes closed for a while. but this is beside the point.
the point is that the last time i was in Colorado, i was fleeing.
the abbreviated version goes something like this:
after a few weeks doing my best Jack Kerouac impersonation, looking for those elusive Denver doldrums, i decided to fill out my oeuvre by devoting a couple of months to my Bill Burroughs. the role proved to be more involved than i had anticipated, and it was during fore-mentioned flee, somewhere in east Kansas, on the floor of a hotel room, with a fifteen year old Camry in the parking lot and a U-Haul in tow, that i began to understand what kind of commitment the role would require...
the point is that the last time i was in Colorado, i was fleeing.
the abbreviated version goes something like this:
after a few weeks doing my best Jack Kerouac impersonation, looking for those elusive Denver doldrums, i decided to fill out my oeuvre by devoting a couple of months to my Bill Burroughs. the role proved to be more involved than i had anticipated, and it was during fore-mentioned flee, somewhere in east Kansas, on the floor of a hotel room, with a fifteen year old Camry in the parking lot and a U-Haul in tow, that i began to understand what kind of commitment the role would require...
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
magic, legumes, and the quotidian
it had been two weeks since my last foray into the kitchen to prepare dinner unsupervised, but yesterday evening i was left unsupervised, and once again i ended up over the stove. last time it was (delicious) black bean soup, this time it was (equally delicious) tempeh chili. apparently flatulent, bean-laden meals are my specialty, so let it be known: i am no Pythagorean.
but this is beside the point.
the point is i talked to my mother last night and i did my best to provide comfort regarding her latest vocational malaise. i told her that it was the things we did every day - not the calamities or windfalls - that have the greatest impact on the we way we feel. the quotidian is magical, and in the end it is our consistencies whose import and meaning matter most.
but this is beside the point.
the point is i talked to my mother last night and i did my best to provide comfort regarding her latest vocational malaise. i told her that it was the things we did every day - not the calamities or windfalls - that have the greatest impact on the we way we feel. the quotidian is magical, and in the end it is our consistencies whose import and meaning matter most.
Monday, May 18, 2009
since yesterday morning
since yesterday morning, i have been attacked by one flying lizard, visited by one giant blue-black raven, and interrogated by one great aunt in her parlor. but this is beside the point.
the point is that somehow the productive laze of summer is yet to materialize, and i have found myself videoconferencing 1 out of 3 waking hours since yesterday afternoon. tomorrow i have to install a router, get my oil changed, talk about my feelings, retrieve art from a gallery, and go to a doctor's appointment (but not the kind that helps people).
even more worrisome, however, is the telephone number my yin laid out earlier this evening. it belongs to a local dentist, and i have been fortunate (and foolish) enough to keep any strange latexed hands out of my mouth since the 90's.
strange bare hands, of course, is another story altogether...
the point is that somehow the productive laze of summer is yet to materialize, and i have found myself videoconferencing 1 out of 3 waking hours since yesterday afternoon. tomorrow i have to install a router, get my oil changed, talk about my feelings, retrieve art from a gallery, and go to a doctor's appointment (but not the kind that helps people).
even more worrisome, however, is the telephone number my yin laid out earlier this evening. it belongs to a local dentist, and i have been fortunate (and foolish) enough to keep any strange latexed hands out of my mouth since the 90's.
strange bare hands, of course, is another story altogether...
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Frisco v. Mob Town
i talked to my sister and Mardou yesterday. one told me about the other's Turkish Aquarian beau, and the other told me about the promise and portent of Aquarius/Taurus pairings. i hadn't spoken to either of them in weeks, and this time last year i hadn't spoken to either of them in months. but this is beside the point.
the point is that break-ups and distance seem to bring siblings and lovers and friends together, sorting out all the confusing relationships we have with one another, and allowing the truth to emerge into something so much greater than we could have ever imagined...
it was that way with us.
the point is that break-ups and distance seem to bring siblings and lovers and friends together, sorting out all the confusing relationships we have with one another, and allowing the truth to emerge into something so much greater than we could have ever imagined...
it was that way with us.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
(memory/repetition/inversion)
I. (memory)
Sitting in the same room
I discovered my voice. Eighteen
months of the blue light and
broken strings, a symphony weeps
below me, the serpent sleeps.
II. (repetition)
are you still there Jack?
are you still there Charles?
I talked to her today;
she said she still loves you.
III. (inversion)
ennui
brings
Sitting in the same room
I discovered my voice. Eighteen
months of the blue light and
broken strings, a symphony weeps
below me, the serpent sleeps.
II. (repetition)
are you still there Jack?
are you still there Charles?
I talked to her today;
she said she still loves you.
III. (inversion)
ennui
this
bring
hungeryou
thisyou
hungerbrings
Friday, May 15, 2009
15 May 2007
two years ago (today), i bought a set of sandalwood beads. for months i wore them only when i traveled, some sort of talisman that wasn't so much a St. Christopher as it was a reminder. that summer was full of uncomfortable trips to North Carolina, and i wanted to remember what was really important rather than getting swept away by ennui or lost in worry about the unflinching gears of past karma.
eventually the travels became less frequent, and at the end of summer i fell in love with an American girl with a Czech surname. i learned that she got away (she was never mine) from a mutual friend while i waited in the Fort Lauderdale airport to fly north once more. it was the autumnal equinox, and i chose not to take off the beads upon my return. i wanted to remember what was really important rather than getting swept away by the mania of pursuit or lost in the malaise of unrequited love.
but all this is beside the point.
the point is that yesterday, a small Indian woman sold me a cup of coffee, pointed at the beads, and asked:
"do you know what they mean?"
eventually the travels became less frequent, and at the end of summer i fell in love with an American girl with a Czech surname. i learned that she got away (she was never mine) from a mutual friend while i waited in the Fort Lauderdale airport to fly north once more. it was the autumnal equinox, and i chose not to take off the beads upon my return. i wanted to remember what was really important rather than getting swept away by the mania of pursuit or lost in the malaise of unrequited love.
but all this is beside the point.
the point is that yesterday, a small Indian woman sold me a cup of coffee, pointed at the beads, and asked:
"do you know what they mean?"
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tapasya (for L_____)
I see her
trapped
in the embers,
a vision of Kali
burning
in the ambers of sunset.
How many births must she suffer?
How many deaths will she ignore?
How long will she stand
fist-clasped, wrist-bound
in defiance before adding
a self-portrait to
that beautiful garland?
trapped
in the embers,
a vision of Kali
burning
in the ambers of sunset.
How many births must she suffer?
How many deaths will she ignore?
How long will she stand
fist-clasped, wrist-bound
in defiance before adding
a self-portrait to
that beautiful garland?
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
the postal service v. The Postal Service
i hadn't stalked a postal worker since the late 90's in Chapel Hill, when i used to peer out the windows of our basement apartment, waiting for him (sometimes her) to scurry away to the next building.
i don't know why, but for some reason i didn't want to be seen in the process of actually retrieving the mail. but this is beside the point.
the point is that this morning i had an opportunity to return to my old familiar, quasi-degenerate, borderline-borderline personality disorder behavior. it all started when i learned domestic postage went up on Monday, and that the letters i placed in the box this morning were somewhat deficient in the upper right hand corner.
i lay in wait, somewhere between a lurk and a loiter, until the mailman arrived. i related my dilemma, and he told me that the postal service was going to price themselves right out of business.
the same, however, cannot be said for The Postal Service.
i don't know why, but for some reason i didn't want to be seen in the process of actually retrieving the mail. but this is beside the point.
the point is that this morning i had an opportunity to return to my old familiar, quasi-degenerate, borderline-borderline personality disorder behavior. it all started when i learned domestic postage went up on Monday, and that the letters i placed in the box this morning were somewhat deficient in the upper right hand corner.
i lay in wait, somewhere between a lurk and a loiter, until the mailman arrived. i related my dilemma, and he told me that the postal service was going to price themselves right out of business.
the same, however, cannot be said for The Postal Service.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
you remind me of brahmacharya
How long did I sleep before
the corner-mouthed kiss
the thigh so beautiful
the nights spent a'whisper
the thigh so beautiful
the nights spent a'whisper
you dreamed me into waking?
This is more than
those small things
people call
love.
Monday, May 11, 2009
time to go to work
she stopped by yesterday and asked: "this is what you do all day?"
(yes):
i duct tape the shoes of small southeast Asian children.
i hide from feedback at 10 o'clock in the morning.
i discuss red six dollar vodka drinks with strangers.
i sneak fore mentioned yin (and mother) into cultural events.
i have a tempeh sub delivered by golf cart.
i listen to songs by A.R. Rahman ad nauseum.
i write about psilocybin and thin ice in 1970.
i feed mosquitoes and place foam in my ears.
i call mothers and wish them happy days.
i close my eyes and practice pratyahara...
(yes):
i duct tape the shoes of small southeast Asian children.
i hide from feedback at 10 o'clock in the morning.
i discuss red six dollar vodka drinks with strangers.
i sneak fore mentioned yin (and mother) into cultural events.
i have a tempeh sub delivered by golf cart.
i listen to songs by A.R. Rahman ad nauseum.
i write about psilocybin and thin ice in 1970.
i feed mosquitoes and place foam in my ears.
i call mothers and wish them happy days.
i close my eyes and practice pratyahara...
Friday, May 8, 2009
what a day
today, when i haven't been asking strangers for five thousands dollars, eating leftover tofu, or discussing nocturnal emissions with my yin and mentor, i've been receiving unsolicited emails from one of my dearest high school friends.
the last time i saw him was years ago at his parents' home, and i blew him off so i could return to the car. i was impatient, [she] was waiting, and it seems so incredible now that he was the link that brought the two of us together. he, as much as anyone, can appreciate the enormity of the Dreaming, and i look forward to sharing what as happened since i woke. but this is beside the point.
the point is that all the money, wet dreams, and day-old tofu in the world can never replace reconnecting with the ones you love.
the last time i saw him was years ago at his parents' home, and i blew him off so i could return to the car. i was impatient, [she] was waiting, and it seems so incredible now that he was the link that brought the two of us together. he, as much as anyone, can appreciate the enormity of the Dreaming, and i look forward to sharing what as happened since i woke. but this is beside the point.
the point is that all the money, wet dreams, and day-old tofu in the world can never replace reconnecting with the ones you love.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
haiku, meaning, and self-referentiality
if you are looking
for meaning in this haiku
then you just found it.
for meaning in this haiku
then you just found it.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
sometimes accidents happen
i was left home alone without adult supervision today,
and somehow the gentle notion of:
"maybe you could pick up some lettuce"
turned into my bold proclamation of:
"i'll fix dinner!"
followed by the speedy amendment:
"what should i cook?"
there was no clear response as she walked out the door, only the vague suggestion that perhaps black beans might be involved. this, of course, sent me down a rabbit hole, and before i emerged on the other side, a bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper had found its way down my gullet along with a money order made out to "Past Karma" in my wallet. but this is beside the point.
the point is that i think i just accidentally made black bean soup,
(i do not know how to make black bean soup), with a healthy helping of situational irony because none of the ingredients were procured during my jaunt out into the supermarkets, fruit stands, and gas stations of South Florida. it turns out everything i needed was already right here.
deep.
and somehow the gentle notion of:
"maybe you could pick up some lettuce"
turned into my bold proclamation of:
"i'll fix dinner!"
followed by the speedy amendment:
"what should i cook?"
there was no clear response as she walked out the door, only the vague suggestion that perhaps black beans might be involved. this, of course, sent me down a rabbit hole, and before i emerged on the other side, a bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper had found its way down my gullet along with a money order made out to "Past Karma" in my wallet. but this is beside the point.
the point is that i think i just accidentally made black bean soup,
(i do not know how to make black bean soup), with a healthy helping of situational irony because none of the ingredients were procured during my jaunt out into the supermarkets, fruit stands, and gas stations of South Florida. it turns out everything i needed was already right here.
deep.
Monday, May 4, 2009
the wedding gift
the wedding is over, and by this time the groom and his bride are on their way to Hawaii. but this is beside the point.
the point is i had no idea what i was going to get them until the night before the wedding, when i drove home from the rehearsal dinner, congratulating myself for not repeating the previous night's culinary indiscretion at the bachelor party. the gift went something like:
I.
I drove home last night thinking about
marriage, ceremony, and ritual,
commitment and obligation,
thinking about dharma.
I thought about the moment hidden in the pomp,
the moment obscured by circumstance:
the moment two becomes one.
I thought about impermanence,
how every thing that has a beginning
will surely have an end.
I thought about the real,
the eternal, the unchanging.
I thought about what I have to offer this union.
No one can give you anything
that you do not already have.
Not peace,
nor security,
nor wisdom,
nor wealth
is lacking.
II.
Then what is the meaning of this marriage?
Is it a dress?
My wish for you, S____,
My wish for you, N_____,
is that
on those
worn
tarnished
rainy
days
you
remember
love has no beginning,
love has no end.
the point is i had no idea what i was going to get them until the night before the wedding, when i drove home from the rehearsal dinner, congratulating myself for not repeating the previous night's culinary indiscretion at the bachelor party. the gift went something like:
I.
I drove home last night thinking about
marriage, ceremony, and ritual,
commitment and obligation,
thinking about dharma.
I thought about the moment hidden in the pomp,
the moment obscured by circumstance:
the moment two becomes one.
I thought about impermanence,
how every thing that has a beginning
will surely have an end.
I thought about the real,
the eternal, the unchanging.
I thought about what I have to offer this union.
No one can give you anything
that you do not already have.
Not peace,
nor security,
nor wisdom,
nor wealth
is lacking.
II.
Then what is the meaning of this marriage?
Is it a dress?
(once worn)
Is it a ring?(tarnished)
Is it a Saturday evening in May?(raining)
Is it ‘til death do you part?(death is not an ending)
My wish for you, S____,
My wish for you, N_____,
is that
on those
worn
tarnished
rainy
days
you
remember
love has no beginning,
love has no end.
Friday, May 1, 2009
the bachelor party
the set-up:
1) take one non-gambling vegetarian and place him in a casino steakhouse for a 3½ hour feeding frenzy. 2) populate the room with ½ strangers, ½ acquaintances, and 2 quasi-intimate friends. 3) place on the table endless breads and grease-laden sides of spinach, sweet potatoes, and asparagus. 4) close the meal with a 2 giant desert platters and a $75 dollar tab for my $10 salad.
(the need to run this experiment has ended)
the punchline:
i come home and tell her:
"i'm distended, unshaven, my tummy hurts, and my pee smells funny."
she replies:
"you're a dream come true."
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