O Pioneers?
I know I have mine.
Happy New Year from Oomingmak and the Cocteau Twins (wrong cold planetary pole for the beastie, but a spam ad for quiviut articles of clothing actually came up when I searched for this video!)
If you read too much poetry, you instantly thought of Marianne Moore when you saw that word.
O to be a dragon. Indeed.
Let's hope that the Noughties which are leaving us won't be replaced by the Nasties.
That would just suck.
That would just be a total Horkheimer.
Happy New Year to all Sentient Beings and their Sentient Appurtenances!
May Chase or some other fanged creditor not be the first one to call you on New Year's Day!
Repeat after me: you're not a deadbeat. You're just achieving the holy state of deadbeatitude! It's like samadhi. Well, almost.
Snerk it up.
Lee rented a bunch of movies lately and I can say The Hangover was one of the worst movies I've seen in ages. It's sort of hard to be totally unfunny when you make a really dumb comedy. Usually, one just stumbles upon at least a few laughs in the bumbling and bubbling meander of drool. But that waste of space manages to dodge every laugh. Or at least it did for me. It's as though G4 had made its first feature film, aimed at its core audience 14 year old pathological masturbators. Or maybe a 14 year old pathological masturbator wrote it. With one hand. While wearing a latex masturbation glove on the other as a keyboard handicap.
District Nine was much funnier than The Hangover, due in part to the really rickety performance by the main human protag. Was it just me, or was he totally off-balance for the first thirty movies of the film? The direction, in general, was really spotty for the first thirty minutes of the movie, but after you're sure the director gets how hackneyed the allegorical components of his movie actually are, and the picture suddenly decides it's really an action film with a sick sense of humor, it starts to work. The protag plays it oddly, rather as though he wanted to create a South African space alien apartheid Steve Carrell.
I think I spelt Steve's surname wrong.
Oh well. Let's start out the New Year's with false orthography, false hope, false grandeur and the rest. Works for me.
I only caught the ending of S. Darko, so I don't know how it compared to Donnie Darko, but I was happy to see the movie ended with a Cocteau Twins song ("Heaven or Las Vegas").
Happy Snew Year.
Here. Enjoy some dayglo Buddhahood. And some Compassion for the New Year. It has to be born. All by itself.
Some early Cocteaux, with a tinge of Siouxsie and the Banshees influence to it, no?
Some Tibetan throat-singing. Tuvan. You can thank Bjork for getting throat-singing in the forefront these past few years.
And what good's a New Year without a little Green? Scritti's ex at Shepherd's Bush in 06.
I fell asleep to this pretty song this afternoon, watching it on Lee's Zune.
Although 2009 felt more like this. I loved this song/video the moment I experienced it. Wasn't it during a Superbowl? I remember even my one uncle who was in his eighties at the time loved it.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Happy New Year, Australia!
This just in, one hour ago.
Enjoy Sydney blowing its pyrotechnic wad.
Happy New Year Australia and Australian Peter!
And Happy Birthday, Peter!
xo
Enjoy Sydney blowing its pyrotechnic wad.
Happy New Year Australia and Australian Peter!
And Happy Birthday, Peter!
xo
Reverend Donne Said
that "no man is an island" but my body and mind seem determined to prove him wrong lately.
And every bed is, mercifully, an island, and these seem to be rather well-anchored islands.
You do want your island to be anchored, unless you are of that heroic stripe...the sort that makes a bad bedfellow but a good protag for an awful t.v. movie (usually SYFY will have these sorts on floating islands).
I had my first CAT-scan at 4:30 in the morning a day ago, which was followed by a very long half hour spent in the ghastly confines of an MRI machine.
There was worry that I had had a stroke as my face did something unexpected and worrisome.
This has been one hell of a year. I can't wait to see if 2010 has a new box of chuckles in store for me.
The CAT-scan is a lark. It's not claustrophobic and it's over in a few minutes. When you slide in you look up and see NEMO and that stuffy angelfish GIL on the "ceiling."
Or you do in this hospital.
Stickers to calm the little ones. Of course, that's a depressing picture: a child going into such a machine.
The claustrophobic MRI definitely reeks of the grave, or gives one presentiments of it.
The milky polypropylene face-mask (like a mock Greek warrior's mask?) looms above one's nose at the same close distance the coffin lid probably does when they close it. (Remember that photo shoot James Dean did for LIFE magazine where he posed in the coffin? He said when they close the lid it smooshes your nose!)
Of course I got itches on my face once my head had been blocked into place and I had been served to the machine like a pizza to the oven and couldn't move my arms.
And then I began to realize how unlikely it is that the polypropylene face mask is NOT sterilized between "scannees." Nor the earphones either, I'd wager. I was probably being treated to staph aureus of the most delicious variety while being squawked and hissed at by magnets dancing around my skull and nosily slicing planes of my brain like so many imaging cold cuts.
I had never had this done before.
They don't let you walk either. You have to ride in a wheelchair down to the grim subterranean chambers. Hello, grandfather!
Lee was not able to be with me, but he kept me chatting on the phone while I waited for the results afterwards.
I did have a wonderful doctor and he gave me the best possible news: no tumors or aneurysms or anything.
And the sinusitis was pinned down somewhat.
So I was free to throw off the blankets and gown, throw on the coat, hat and mittens and flee like a giddy banshee (thanks for the hall pass, God!)
But for now my weird symptoms remain a MYSTERY DIAGNOSIS (I cannot watch that show or anything vaguely resembling it).
I have begun to get tests done on my own when doctors refuse to order them.
Did you know e-medicine offers you these alternatives now? Just Google any test. Some third party will provide the doc signature and get you to a Labcorp for virtually any test.
And it will be much cheaper than what you're going to pay at the doc's or at the hospital...and you avoid that fee you normally contract just by walking in the door.
I'm thinking of testing for Lyme disease, since I'm remembering now the time I had a tick on me (my car had broken down and I had to pull off at the side of the road, which was high weeds, and call AAA).
This company offers that test, and so much more.
For instance, I can monitor my thyroid function through them much more cheaply.
Lyme disease is apparently becoming an underdiagnosed epidemic now (at least in this part of the country). There's a problem with the Lyme test, according to many sources, where the ELISA for it is giving false negatives when the secondary (confirmatory) test is giving clear positives. So many people are apparently being missed as they are being deemed "negative" through the faulty Lyme ELISAs.
This is not exactly a good New Year's posting, is it?
I'll go to YouTube and try to find something cheerful.
I did watch the 1,000 Ways to Die marathon way too long yesterday.
That show is evil but funny.
The best part is trying to guess the pun they are going to make after each grisly death vignette.
HAPPY NEW YEAR'S! DON'T DIE ON ME! KEEP SWIMMING! Nemo reference...if you're too cool for Disney...and if you are, fuck off!
Just kidding.
And every bed is, mercifully, an island, and these seem to be rather well-anchored islands.
You do want your island to be anchored, unless you are of that heroic stripe...the sort that makes a bad bedfellow but a good protag for an awful t.v. movie (usually SYFY will have these sorts on floating islands).
I had my first CAT-scan at 4:30 in the morning a day ago, which was followed by a very long half hour spent in the ghastly confines of an MRI machine.
There was worry that I had had a stroke as my face did something unexpected and worrisome.
This has been one hell of a year. I can't wait to see if 2010 has a new box of chuckles in store for me.
The CAT-scan is a lark. It's not claustrophobic and it's over in a few minutes. When you slide in you look up and see NEMO and that stuffy angelfish GIL on the "ceiling."
Or you do in this hospital.
Stickers to calm the little ones. Of course, that's a depressing picture: a child going into such a machine.
The claustrophobic MRI definitely reeks of the grave, or gives one presentiments of it.
The milky polypropylene face-mask (like a mock Greek warrior's mask?) looms above one's nose at the same close distance the coffin lid probably does when they close it. (Remember that photo shoot James Dean did for LIFE magazine where he posed in the coffin? He said when they close the lid it smooshes your nose!)
Of course I got itches on my face once my head had been blocked into place and I had been served to the machine like a pizza to the oven and couldn't move my arms.
And then I began to realize how unlikely it is that the polypropylene face mask is NOT sterilized between "scannees." Nor the earphones either, I'd wager. I was probably being treated to staph aureus of the most delicious variety while being squawked and hissed at by magnets dancing around my skull and nosily slicing planes of my brain like so many imaging cold cuts.
I had never had this done before.
They don't let you walk either. You have to ride in a wheelchair down to the grim subterranean chambers. Hello, grandfather!
Lee was not able to be with me, but he kept me chatting on the phone while I waited for the results afterwards.
I did have a wonderful doctor and he gave me the best possible news: no tumors or aneurysms or anything.
And the sinusitis was pinned down somewhat.
So I was free to throw off the blankets and gown, throw on the coat, hat and mittens and flee like a giddy banshee (thanks for the hall pass, God!)
But for now my weird symptoms remain a MYSTERY DIAGNOSIS (I cannot watch that show or anything vaguely resembling it).
I have begun to get tests done on my own when doctors refuse to order them.
Did you know e-medicine offers you these alternatives now? Just Google any test. Some third party will provide the doc signature and get you to a Labcorp for virtually any test.
And it will be much cheaper than what you're going to pay at the doc's or at the hospital...and you avoid that fee you normally contract just by walking in the door.
I'm thinking of testing for Lyme disease, since I'm remembering now the time I had a tick on me (my car had broken down and I had to pull off at the side of the road, which was high weeds, and call AAA).
This company offers that test, and so much more.
For instance, I can monitor my thyroid function through them much more cheaply.
Lyme disease is apparently becoming an underdiagnosed epidemic now (at least in this part of the country). There's a problem with the Lyme test, according to many sources, where the ELISA for it is giving false negatives when the secondary (confirmatory) test is giving clear positives. So many people are apparently being missed as they are being deemed "negative" through the faulty Lyme ELISAs.
This is not exactly a good New Year's posting, is it?
I'll go to YouTube and try to find something cheerful.
I did watch the 1,000 Ways to Die marathon way too long yesterday.
That show is evil but funny.
The best part is trying to guess the pun they are going to make after each grisly death vignette.
HAPPY NEW YEAR'S! DON'T DIE ON ME! KEEP SWIMMING! Nemo reference...if you're too cool for Disney...and if you are, fuck off!
Just kidding.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
In Celebration of Charlotte Corday
You killed Marat.
He was rather blah.*
*Valetudinarians with skin conditions make terrifying revolutionaries. Especially if they are allowed to marinade in bathtubs all day, whilst penning agit-prop tracts calling for heads to roll.
Marat was annoying, a hate automaton. Insane people like M. are heeded in insane times. Charlotte Corday had the good fortune (and the bad timing) to have been born sane in an insane time. She provided the only appropriate medical care possible for a man like Marat. She even made a house call.**
And he didn't even have to get out of his warm tub.
Then he had another schlub immortalize him and depict him as Christ (David).
The French Revolution was a great period for schlubs.
The Revolutionary French calendar is very cool, though.
I think we should adopt that.
I want a month named Thermidor (I think that was August).
But they deleted Sunday, the little heathens.
**How did Charlotte Corday get into Marat's dwelling, you might ask? Well, the HISTORY CHANNEL informs us that the rabid dog had an open door policy for all revolution-friendly citizens.
And Ms. Corday gained admittance to his bathchamber (rather gauche of Marat to entertain thusly, non?) by pretending to have a list of people Marat could denounce.
She was bringing him his favorite treat: denunciation cookies.
Marat could never resist denunciation cookies.
If only someone could have made some with Depakote sprinkles on them!
So Ms. Corday was swiftly admitted and she swiftly dispatched him, saying "NO MORE DENUNCIATION COOKIES FOR YOU. YOU'VE MADE QUITE THE PIG OF YOURSELF ALREADY. AND NOW LOOK! YOU'VE GOTTEN BLOOD ON MY PRETTY RIBBONS."
She didn't even say "Sic Semper Tyrannis!" or anything pompous like that.
Not even when they executed her.
She is the patron saint of all Neighborhood Watches.
Somewhat Belated Advice for Marie Antoinette
"Don't dress or coif onself
too much like a turkey
amidst millions
of starving French peasants,
as one might just
get treated like one."
This is the origin of the phrase "fashion victim."
UCTV/Myung Mi Kim/Robert Hass/Some Glamazon
UCTV runs Lunch Poems.
You can also find the various poetry readings from this series on YouTube.
I was watching it on UCTV yesterday (it's a few notches up or down from EWTN) and it was a reading by contemporary Korean poets (all women).
The poets would read their poems in Korean and then another poet would read the English translation.
I recognized Myung Mi Kim (I'm a fan) immediately when she stepped up to read for a poet whose name already eludes me.
It was funny, because if you've read her you know that MMK's work is complex, challenging political discourse somewhat after the manner of Oppen (say, if Oppen and Mei-mei Berssenbrugge married on the page).
And the poet for whom she had been chosen to read was a bit of a Korean Glamazon, immensely popular in Korea.
It's not fair to judge a poet on the basis of a few poems only, but the poems chosen anchored around rather transparent metaphors like female makeup rituals (the poet name-checked Estee Lauder and a few others to remind us of her "worldliness.")
I wouldn't say that Myung Mi Kim cringed when she approached the task; she was a trooper.
But there was a dark cloud over her as she knit her brows and began reading the first poem.
I smiled in my bed. It was wrong to smile.
As she read, the Korean Glamazon stared at her the way a cat studies its kitten approaching the masterpiece of "the kill" for the first time. "Is she understanding the genius of my work?" the Glamazon's furrowed brow said (no translation necessary).
When the noble sacrifice was accomplished, Robert Hass took the opportunity to be just a little bit naughty.
He made a wry comment to the effect that anyone who knows Myung Mi Kim's work must have enjoyed the particular pairing of poet/translation-reader which had just occured.
I believe the word is schadenfreude. But with a twist of commiseration.
I suppose he was counting on the "subtlety" of the (clearly commiserative) statement not making it across the English-Korean linguistic divide.
Because if it had, I'm not too sure the Glamazon might not have attacked the elder poet (and not without provocation).
One gets the impression her hair and her makeup would have remained perfect throughout the attack, and probably even through the booking process (that is, unless she has some sort of poetic diplomatic immunity.)
It would have been so funny if she had turned to Hass and said in perfect English, "Excuse me? Are you calling me a FUCKING CUPCAKE?"
And then R.H. could have slurped his fingers in a provocatively annoying way to answer her question and given a critical estimation of the worth of her poetry at the same time.
Wouldn't that be fun?
Terror on the streets of Lunch Poems.
Myung Mi Kim did her civic duty.
But poetry is not a civics class.
Stop pretending that.
One last immature comment about that reading: Hass reminded everyone that Korean names are presented with the surname first.
So when HWANG INSUK was introduced, we were all mentally transposing this to INSUK HWANG, which of course is funny.
It is so.
Well, if you're immature. And you probably are. At least a little bit.
They should send Mike Rowe out to document that poetry is not a civics class for an installment of DIRTY JOBS.
And he should spend the entire installment in cubicles fuming.
That's a dirty job that many poets do.
Also, I have always touted ZeFrank's website as one of the best on the web (see my blogroll).
I see he has made it to one of the Disney Channels and has his own national children's show now!
Congratulations, Ze! You deserve it.
I remember emailing him back when I lived at the apartment before I lived here, and how he always gave personal (and funny responses) to everyone's email.
And he must have gotten a shitload.
Anyway, I was happy to see him raking it in.
He's made a lot of people happy.
Now he'll do that for a lot more.
You can also find the various poetry readings from this series on YouTube.
I was watching it on UCTV yesterday (it's a few notches up or down from EWTN) and it was a reading by contemporary Korean poets (all women).
The poets would read their poems in Korean and then another poet would read the English translation.
I recognized Myung Mi Kim (I'm a fan) immediately when she stepped up to read for a poet whose name already eludes me.
It was funny, because if you've read her you know that MMK's work is complex, challenging political discourse somewhat after the manner of Oppen (say, if Oppen and Mei-mei Berssenbrugge married on the page).
And the poet for whom she had been chosen to read was a bit of a Korean Glamazon, immensely popular in Korea.
It's not fair to judge a poet on the basis of a few poems only, but the poems chosen anchored around rather transparent metaphors like female makeup rituals (the poet name-checked Estee Lauder and a few others to remind us of her "worldliness.")
I wouldn't say that Myung Mi Kim cringed when she approached the task; she was a trooper.
But there was a dark cloud over her as she knit her brows and began reading the first poem.
I smiled in my bed. It was wrong to smile.
As she read, the Korean Glamazon stared at her the way a cat studies its kitten approaching the masterpiece of "the kill" for the first time. "Is she understanding the genius of my work?" the Glamazon's furrowed brow said (no translation necessary).
When the noble sacrifice was accomplished, Robert Hass took the opportunity to be just a little bit naughty.
He made a wry comment to the effect that anyone who knows Myung Mi Kim's work must have enjoyed the particular pairing of poet/translation-reader which had just occured.
I believe the word is schadenfreude. But with a twist of commiseration.
I suppose he was counting on the "subtlety" of the (clearly commiserative) statement not making it across the English-Korean linguistic divide.
Because if it had, I'm not too sure the Glamazon might not have attacked the elder poet (and not without provocation).
One gets the impression her hair and her makeup would have remained perfect throughout the attack, and probably even through the booking process (that is, unless she has some sort of poetic diplomatic immunity.)
It would have been so funny if she had turned to Hass and said in perfect English, "Excuse me? Are you calling me a FUCKING CUPCAKE?"
And then R.H. could have slurped his fingers in a provocatively annoying way to answer her question and given a critical estimation of the worth of her poetry at the same time.
Wouldn't that be fun?
Terror on the streets of Lunch Poems.
Myung Mi Kim did her civic duty.
But poetry is not a civics class.
Stop pretending that.
One last immature comment about that reading: Hass reminded everyone that Korean names are presented with the surname first.
So when HWANG INSUK was introduced, we were all mentally transposing this to INSUK HWANG, which of course is funny.
It is so.
Well, if you're immature. And you probably are. At least a little bit.
They should send Mike Rowe out to document that poetry is not a civics class for an installment of DIRTY JOBS.
And he should spend the entire installment in cubicles fuming.
That's a dirty job that many poets do.
Also, I have always touted ZeFrank's website as one of the best on the web (see my blogroll).
I see he has made it to one of the Disney Channels and has his own national children's show now!
Congratulations, Ze! You deserve it.
I remember emailing him back when I lived at the apartment before I lived here, and how he always gave personal (and funny responses) to everyone's email.
And he must have gotten a shitload.
Anyway, I was happy to see him raking it in.
He's made a lot of people happy.
Now he'll do that for a lot more.
Agawamp
"Oh, Agawamp," I say.
"Agawamp."
And roll over to the other side of the pillow for confirmation.
Confirmation is there.
"Agawamp."
And roll over to the other side of the pillow for confirmation.
Confirmation is there.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
Get Hard in French
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Plusieurs hommes ont suivi le chemin de l’EP avant vous, et plusieurs autres vont certainement le suivre aussi, mais les hommes qui ont suivi le chemin et qui ont eut du succès ont seulement une chose à dire, « Si vous le voulez vraiment… utilisez DuraMale »
* Êtes-vous fatigué et épuisé de voir ce regard attristé dans les yeux de votre amoureuse?
* Êtes-vous indisposé par la peur de l’Éjaculation précoce?
* Souhaitez-vous continuer plus longtemps pendant la relation sexuelle?
Ce n’est pas toujours la dimension qui importe! Lorsqu’on en vient à la relation sexuelle, il y a d’autres facteurs qui devraient être pris en considération…
L’éjaculation précoce est un ennemi commun qui a toujours remis en question la sexualité des hommes. La population masculine souffrant d’éjaculation précoce vit souvent avec la notion qu’ils ne sont pas vraiment un homme. Cela devient une expérience frustrante pour lui qui peut causer des dégâts sur une relation évoluée. Cela peut épeler «perte» dans une relation sexuelle saine. L’ego masculin croit être inadéquat. Assez vrai, ceci est une assez grande inquiétude pour les deux sexes et au fil du temps, les hommes qui ont été assaillis avec cette inquiétude sont en perpétuelle recherche d’un remède à l’éjaculation précoce qui leur fournira une échappatoire pour cette situation.
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Gardez à l’esprit que vous êtes sur le point de découvrir une arme secrète ultime sous la forme de DuraMale qui restaurera la poursuite du bonheur sans fin dans votre vie…
Nous vous offrons la meilleure Formule d’amélioration des performances sexuelles masculines au monde, qui est essayée et testée par des millions d’hommes à travers le monde.
DuraMale est un supplément à base de plantes formulé par une équipe de chercheurs et de professionnels de la santé et de la nutrition.
Il s’attaque à la cause de l’éjaculation précoce au niveau de sa racine Même. Il agit sur les capteurs hypothalamiques du cerveau. Ces capteurs régularisent vos niveaux d’excitation sexuelle. En diminuant l’hyperactivité de ces capteurs sexuels, DuraMale prolonge le temps de pénétration. Ceci, à son tour, retarde votre éjaculation de jusqu’à 20 minutes.
Pourquoi DuraMale??? Les pilules DuraMale peuvent vous donner beaucoup plus que ce dont vous avez eu envie pour – une activité sexuelle prolongée et son paroxisme…
Formulé pour mieux agir que la plupart des médicaments et des remèdes à base de plantes synthétiques pour l’EP:
Les pilules DuraMale pour l’EP sont formulées avec les herbes et les nutriments les plus essentiels qui agissent beaucoup plus rapidement, donnent des résultats plus rapides et n’occasionnent pas d’effets secondaires.
Soulagement complet pendant la période des relations:
Avec les pilules DuraMale, vous n’avez pas à dépendre sur des médicaments à vie. Vous obtiendrez une rétention éjaculatoire complète pendant la période de la relation elle-même…
Entièrement naturel – aucun additif ou produit chimique utilisé
La formule DuraMale est complètement libre d’additifs et de produits chimiques. Même les ingrédients utilisés dans la formule sont purement naturels et nous suivons les méthodes cGMP de fabrication qui assurent un haut niveau de qualité.
Prix abordable:
Les pilules DuraMale à base de plantes pour l’EP ont un prix abordable contrairement à d’autres médicaments qui sont très dispendieux et non abordables. Nous savons qu’il est difficile pour l’homme ordinaire de pouvoir se permettre ces derniers et alors nous en sommes venus à DuraMale une solution abordable, mais sans compromis de sa qualité.
Politique de remboursement:
C’est dans la confiance que nous avons dans nos produits que nous appuyons DuraMale avec une garantie de remboursement à 100 %. Si vous êtes insatisfait avec l’achat ou la performance de DuraMale, vous pouvez toujours nous le retourner à l’intérieur de 90 jours pour un remboursement complet du prix d’achat du produit (excluant les frais d’expédition).
Avec DuraMale – surveillez les changements suivants que vous et votre partenaire avez toujours désirés:
* Vos glandes sexuelles sont renforcées et tonifiées 20 fois plus efficacement avec DuraMale.
* Le stress et l’anxiété sont maintenant des inquiétudes du passé – oubliez librement vos inquiétudes à propos des effets secondaires
* Et plus important, cela augmente votre humeur sexuelle et votre désir et ouvre des portes à une merveilleuse et saine vie sexuelle.
Profitez d’une puissance pour vous maintenir plus longtemps que vous ne le souhaitiez – achetez les pilules d’éjaculation précoce DuraMale – le meilleur remède pour vous maintenir plus longtemps…
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Realism
Your draped
over vodka on morning
dies moon
indie storms
Giant legs of the dead
catch you
swimming in bed
strikes scintillates ice
tattoos off
into space
and you know clouds will have any dialogue
Twist wave twist
before a gay ocean
over vodka on morning
dies moon
indie storms
Giant legs of the dead
catch you
swimming in bed
strikes scintillates ice
tattoos off
into space
and you know clouds will have any dialogue
Twist wave twist
before a gay ocean
Merry Christmas, Poets!
Afterwards, you extemporized in the forested area
Knocking on the glass tree: Kristallnacht.
Why not be nonexistent?
a dog's terrible movie is a special
insight the actors are thought to be on all fours
most of the balletic time anyway
It rains inside and outside our store
Let us be like seagulls
those "lions of birds among birds"
and "not mind"
an autistic fucked Christmas
Knocking on the glass tree: Kristallnacht.
Why not be nonexistent?
a dog's terrible movie is a special
insight the actors are thought to be on all fours
most of the balletic time anyway
It rains inside and outside our store
Let us be like seagulls
those "lions of birds among birds"
and "not mind"
an autistic fucked Christmas
Winter Campus
she is no earthly is to your maybe
GOT EMPTINESS? black letters on a kid's white t-shirt
It's snowing in the quad's cube
The crucified ones are glowing
strong and happy under their backpacks
a muted caravansary cannot hold back
Sleeves in Winter
Poems green
you willow tree
outside green fingers
and what is like directionally
unknown like your closely to lips
and wait
you willow tree
outside green fingers
and what is like directionally
unknown like your closely to lips
and wait
Poinsettia
If only you could sneak your way past the you
the way this red winter flower does, beside one shoe
ridonkulous with whorish glitter, Chinese blue glue
the way this red winter flower does, beside one shoe
ridonkulous with whorish glitter, Chinese blue glue
Glue Gun Christmas Sonnet
The lights blink off and on: they're really airstrips
after the party for attractive drunks who wassail-fucked
I don't want the world with feels complimented...
Always a shirt this time of year will smell of pine
Steelton still has a Croatian bus goes in a straight line
to the cemetery for dying singing ladies
Dying singing ladies singing Fortuna
singing for tuna for their hundred kitties
with their six or eight hundred milking titties!
I would like to kidnap you with a glue gun and make you forget
watch you fall through soft toys of regrets
If only you could sneak your way past the you
the way a red winter flower does, beside one shoe
ridonkulous leaves whorish with glitter, Chinese blue glue
after the party for attractive drunks who wassail-fucked
I don't want the world with feels complimented...
Always a shirt this time of year will smell of pine
Steelton still has a Croatian bus goes in a straight line
to the cemetery for dying singing ladies
Dying singing ladies singing Fortuna
singing for tuna for their hundred kitties
with their six or eight hundred milking titties!
I would like to kidnap you with a glue gun and make you forget
watch you fall through soft toys of regrets
If only you could sneak your way past the you
the way a red winter flower does, beside one shoe
ridonkulous leaves whorish with glitter, Chinese blue glue
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
I Think
the Pretenders self-titled debut album might be in my top ten albums of that decade.
Who wrote this? Ray Davies?
This clip is from Kenny Everett's (what a loss) show, so enjoy the eighties cliches.
I think he adored Kate Bush.
I remember being so happy finding "Delius" and that was from K.E.'s show as well.
Note two young Pretenders in this video who were soon to be two dead young Pretenders.
Sigh.
Who wrote this? Ray Davies?
This clip is from Kenny Everett's (what a loss) show, so enjoy the eighties cliches.
I think he adored Kate Bush.
I remember being so happy finding "Delius" and that was from K.E.'s show as well.
Note two young Pretenders in this video who were soon to be two dead young Pretenders.
Sigh.
Hokey Eighties Videos
I had Robert Palmer's "Clues" in my head all day and was walking around singing it and then when you try to steal it from YouTube they have it on lockdown.
It says the video has been marked "private." What the hell? It's the music group that has it there. So why? You can't even watch it, let alone link or cut and paste it.
So I had to find another hokey eighties video to satisfy me.
Cute lil duet.
I had never seen the video.
I love C.H.'s voice. I love her songwriting ability. I love a lot of things about her. Remember how pissed off she always used to be?
A Pretenders song came on the radio the other day (Sirius: it wasn't a "single" really) and I noticed something I had never noticed before.
She put a Simple Minds-style guitar blip in the middle of the song.
It was totally unmistakeable.
I don't know if it was like a kiss to her (then?) husband Jim Kerr (Simple Minds singer) or a kiss off. They did divorce, but I think this would have dated from when they were married.
So I think the former.
I was trying to figure out mentally if she
It says the video has been marked "private." What the hell? It's the music group that has it there. So why? You can't even watch it, let alone link or cut and paste it.
So I had to find another hokey eighties video to satisfy me.
Cute lil duet.
I had never seen the video.
I love C.H.'s voice. I love her songwriting ability. I love a lot of things about her. Remember how pissed off she always used to be?
A Pretenders song came on the radio the other day (Sirius: it wasn't a "single" really) and I noticed something I had never noticed before.
She put a Simple Minds-style guitar blip in the middle of the song.
It was totally unmistakeable.
I don't know if it was like a kiss to her (then?) husband Jim Kerr (Simple Minds singer) or a kiss off. They did divorce, but I think this would have dated from when they were married.
So I think the former.
I was trying to figure out mentally if she
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
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