Tuesday, February 23, 2010
james sat in a chair snoring with his mouth wide open.
i peeled a banana and opened my book.
the dim light of the evening was all but gone and only the burning fire provided me with light.
i was reading a book by goethe and the sentences seemed to blur together.
"i only wished i had never known her."
"the clock on the mantle said midnight."
an extreme wave of boredom was settling over me so i slapped myself in the face.
i opened my phone and played poker for half an hour.
the wind outside was whipping the tree branches against our loft.
in the room down the hall i could hear my other roommate mark having sex with his girlfriend.
i tried to concentrate on my book, so that it would not seem obvious that their intercourse was audible.
a half-eaten corn cob sat on the table next to me.
i picked it up and examined it.
i stared at it for several minutes.
it showed no sign of life.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Te pude conquistar
Hoy que nos vemos alejando
Sabrás que no fue sola
Cuando al verme
Envejecer no podrás
Mi ultimo deseo
Que algún día
Fuimos el último deseo
Hasta el último deseo
De aquel distante futuro
Aun que no quieras ser
Mi penúltimo querer
Quisiera que por hoy
Y que sepa el público!
Que algún día te conquiste
Que algún día fuiste mía
Que algún día te conocí
Y que algún día
Compadecido con tu querer
Quisiera simplemente pedir
Que por un segundo
Todos tus nacimientos
Todos tus últimos deseos que hoy
Ni tú sabes reconocer
Y menos responder
Quisiera que pudieras
Complacer mí un deseo
Mi último ruego
Que seas primeramente
Que por último
de Todos los demás
Friday, February 19, 2010
it is precisely for this reason, and others like it, that i left in the first place
sure i have meant what i have said, occasionally, but how is that any better
so we'll start from block one, hello how are you doing,
yo, me llamo me llamo
tu, te llamas te llamas
i por ti
me ando meando
*the latter is a verso from pinotepa, oax., mexico
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
arcade fire/pink floyd
noah's ark/flooded deserts
andrew worthington/andrew duncan worthington
laws and laws and claws and clause and time and clocks and cocks and tick and tocks and waits and gates and almost completely make believed you were my mate and fate and not fate and cash and change and splashing water or deranged tame and semi-sane or semi-insane.
i went to the bike store to buy a bike and all i got was a chain that broke and then i woke from my dream and realized it was my dad's car and i was speeding down the interstate from ohio to michigan and the sky was that kind of gray-pink hue that looks how puke would look if it were beautiful. i ate a few clementines and walked around a graveyard which sat across from a high school football stadium and then i yawned and fell asleep by the grave of a guy who served in the spanish-american war.
bill clinton was president when i first realized how babies were made. i shoved my penis against the bed and tried to make an inanimate baby. i wanted to make a friend to cuddle with. my mom took me to church the next morning and i ate doughnuts in sunday school. i prayed to god for guidance with my erections and fantasies. that was around the time that i stopped beliieving in santa claus, or even the spirit of santa claus, although i guess santa claus is okay.
i stared smoking cigartettes because i wanted to look cool and get fucked up in a very minimal way. i stopped smoking cigarettes because some things never end. when my great-grandfather was 29 he rode broncos and when turned 30 he was in africa killing beasts that got in his way as he walked along dirty muddy paths. he smoked dutch tobacco. sometimes he rolled it into cigarettes and sometimes he put it in a pipe.
the second time i awoke from my dream there were loud drums playing futuristic primitive beats in a big grassy field. everyone was taking their science text books and throwing them in a large fire. i watched with great interest and had sporadic spontaneous grins slash across my face. it is a disgrace the apathy and disregard we have for ourselves and all those who attempt to preach to us. as for me, i say "fuck the preacher" and "fuck the teacher", but i am using the word "fuck" in a very ambiguous sense. you must have sexual relations with them in some way even if it is only in your own person. but you also have to kill them, so i leave the big decisions up to you.
one should either learn to lock their door or close their unlocked door or lose their love for the possessions that own their life.
in the middle of the night i dreamt of my best friends from the university all stoned and moaning in a mansion in the french countryside that had been turned into an opium den. sex was veery casual and fun. staring was a good experience too, although that one was still fun after the drugs wore off, i think. everything made sense to me for a little bit, and then i realized i was dreaming awake.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
How the voices of friends change
On the radios. I am everything not
War so I wish to join the ranks of
Murder. The radiation of death I
Want personally, the gun powder
Burnt nostrils and untethered pulse,
The black eye and purple muscle.
Punched silver and eggplant may
Be my only chance, i.e. parri
Passu for the word lover’s at bat.
Weak from concussive plumes of
Smoke, Ginsberg’s book duc-taped to
my chest, I run ‘til I feel nothing
in my wake and step. All shrapnel,
Every bullet, I call by name, every
Criticism stopped between pages
600 and 9-fifty, one index from any
artery. When I’m ready, may I grow
not into washable chalk lilacs or such,
but nature alive for the wind. Like
no one before me, I make my own
in this war and suffering of
depreciated souls, bones, and stripped
locomotives. I don’t want war to be
a thing of the past but an art
that I hate against humanity. I become a
prince of peace, a poet,
my wager as a priest.
Monday, February 8, 2010
cuyahoga falls, ohio-50,398
red hook, ny-10,408
rio de janeiro-6,093,472
hong kong- 7,055,071
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
"Sure," I said. I had been walking on my way out the party to go home, but I could not refuse a beer. I took the beer from an Asian guy. He was standing against the refigerator that contained the beer. I opened the beer can and nodded at him and said "Thank you."
Outside on the back porch of the house there were several dozen people smoking cigarettes or talking to people smoking cigarettes or standing awkwardly in a circle of conversation and not saying anything. I saw my friend James talking to a couple of girls. I walked over towards him.
"What up dude?" he said when he saw me.
"Not much," I said, "Just chilling."
He introduced me to each of the girls and I told them my name, but then thirty seconds later I realized I had forgotten their names already. They seemed to be talking about Buddhism or something. I stood there and watched. Nothing ever struck my mind in terms of something that would be worthy for me to say.
I scanned the crowd and saw a dude named Ted from a sociology class I had taken the year before. He was talking with a couple other guys. One of the guys was seated at the table. It looked like he was rolling a joint. I walked over and said hi to Ted and then I went inside.
I saw a girl who was a drug dealer in the living room and I asked her if she had any good pills. She said all she had were shrooms and pot.
I said, "Fuck."
The party had seemed to die down somewhat suddenly in the past fifteen minutes. I began to leave the house and on my through the kitchen I saw the Asian dude again. He was still standing alone by the refigerator. It seemed he had decided that his fate for the night was to be the gatekeeper to the beer. He asked me if I wanted another one. I said no. By fate for the night was to go home and sleep alone.