hear ye, hear ye.

guerilla poetry - a different, less anonymous version.

sedaris be damned!!

writing a personal essay is freakin hard.
i have so many ideas about stuff i want to write lately, but i'm having a hard time focusing on one at a time and not going off on eightbillion tangents, as i am wont to do.
if i had a towel near me, i might throw it in. but since i just have to rolled up ace bandage on my desk, maybe i'll wrap it around my head like a turban and contain and organize all of the good ideas, directing them to their appropriate place on the page.

forever

))<>((

so very wrong

With this incredibly gross ring, I thee wed (scroll down, it is the second subject down on the page)

Tetris and SALLY'S BIRTHDAY!

Virginia Woolf said, "Arrange what pieces come your way." (Is she speaking about tetris? before it was even invented?)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SALLLLLLLLYYYYYY!

writer boys will always burn girls for a good story.

Kinda bumming me out, but only because she is so right on, Jennifer Weiner on why writer's disparage each other in reviews and stuff:
"And I know how she feels. I used to be a reporter, so I know, probably better than most, how the process works. Reporters -- particularly the ones my age -- have been told their whole lives how smart and talented and what wonderful writers they are. They do well in high school and go on to fancy-schmancy colleges. They spend their higher-education years lulled by the chorus from professors and parents about how great they are, how smart, how sharp, how insightful and funny. They graduate, believing they're going to set the world on fire. Then they get jobs at newspapers and magazines penning features and profiles that require them to shut their mouths, set their healthy egos and oversized dreams aside, sit quietly behind a notebook or a tape recorder and chronicle the doings of people who, in many cases, are less smart, less talented, less interesting than they are. At least, that's how I frequently felt when I was a reporter. How did this happen? I'd think, as the starlet or singer or politician or comedian du jour babbled away. How is it that she's rich and famous, and I still have to type in the school lunch menus? What went wrong?"

on the 18th, down a bit She also advises against writers getting master's degrees.

oh, susanna!

i just discovered that "manic monday" (the bangles, of course) is all about staying up too late having sex on a work night and i think that's hysterical and had to share this with you.
you're welcome.

FEELING FUCKED UP by Etheridge Knight

FEELING FUCKED UP

Lord she’s gone done left me done packed / up and split
and I with no way to make her
come back and everywhere the world is bare
bright bone white crystal sand glistens
dope death dead dying and jiving drove
her away made her take her laughter and her smiles
and her softness and her midnight sighs—

Fuck Coltrane and music and clouds drifting in the sky
fuck the sea and trees and the sky and birds
and alligators and all the animals that roam the earth
fuck marx and mao fuck fidel and nkrumah and
democracy and communism fuck smack and pot
and red ripe tomatoes fuck joseph fuck mary fuck
god jesus and all the disciples fuck fanon nixon
and malcolm fuck the revolution fuck freedom fuck
the whole muthafucking thing
all i want now is my woman back
so my soul can sing

we are a soulless lot.

now this is the kind of religion i can get behind. (i suggest scrolling down until you see a photo and start reading after that - then just skip around to the quotes.)

mwah

kissing is gross!
but wait, I do it all the time!

moleskine redux

ah the beauty!

Western Civilization II

Assignment 3: Intellectual in Paris during the Enlightenment

Dear Henri,
These are wild, thrilling times in the city of Paris. I hope that life flourishing for you in Marseille. It is as if all of our dreams for society—back when we were young men discussing the ways of the world in the small way that we understood it—have suddenly been deeply digested and written down. (Which is not to say that we had anything near the knowledge of the world that some people are attempting to condense into the encyclopedia.) (Kishlansky p.653) The world of the mind is endlessly interesting to the people of Paris.
The only troubling aspect of it, in my view, is the way in which many important ideas are being simplified to be appealing to the masses. (Kishlansky p. 652) The entire culture of salons revolves around making the discussion of ideas accessible and fun, which is excellent for the livelihoods of intellectuals, but which has the simultaneous impact of cheapening the ideas. (Kishlansky p. 652) Why? Because often salon attendees include the very rich and the very corrupt. What impact can ideas have when they are being preached to people who are not inherently interested in the world of thoughts? As Kant said, “Have the courage to use your own intelligence!” (Kishlansky p. 653) I wonder, frequently, what percentage of men at salons have this courage.
Also troubling is the extent to which some of the main philosophes seem at odds with each other. (Sherman p. 68) While they all seem to agree that the status quo is to be violently opposed, they seem content to attack it in different ways. They propose to battle the same problems with wildly different tactics. Meanwhile, the lives of women and the poor have enjoyed no great change in the face of all these ideas. (Sherman, p. 70, Kishlansky, p. 671) How can we honestly believe that ideas are the path to enlightenment when the poor are struggling to survive and the population is swelling? (Kishlansky p. 671, 674) It is very easy to drink, discuss ideas, and think that the discussion will enact great changes. The reality is far more disturbing.
Still, I temper these feelings with other realities: literacy is enjoying a great revival in this city. Even some women are learning to read, an act which no doubt makes them better wives and better contributors to society. This will, hopefully, lead to better education for children as well. (Kishlansky, p. 681) Also, the popularity of lending libraries is heartening. So perhaps we are not doomed to have our ideas once again fall silent. Perhaps they will one day have an impact on the world in the way that they should.
Henri perhaps I am being too critical. But isn’t being critical what this age is all about? Perhaps I should examine my own willingness to readily accept the ideas of the enlightenment as good and right. Perhaps I am as foolish as Christians who believe, without question, that the word of the priest is the word of God. Perhaps I need to examine my own beliefs as critically. Anyway, I am thrilled that the world has headed in this direction, and I hope that your world is being impacted as dramatically. Write to me soon! I long to hear about these things from your perspective.
Your loyal brother,
Jean-Paul

oh the pain of being famous

read about it here from new york magazine, not to be confused with the venerable new yorker.

school of pool

2/4 of club lounged poolstyle last night. btw, next time I swear I'll be there too. I had my camera ready and everything. Those who swam: you must now write about swimming for Monday. Those who did not have the freedom to write about anything. If you want to come see aspiring comedians tonight in Milford at Daniel Street, I can probably get you in for free. Last time, it was pretty damn funny. I gotta check the website to see when it begins. Plus there are spooks here. Off to learn more primitive web shit for work. I'm glad to have had a part in nhwc cooling, though I think we are pretty cool anyway.

leon bugaboo.

i believe that leon is a shining leaf chafer (Scarabaeidae Pelidnota).
"one of the most serious pests in this group is the Japanese Beetle" (noooooo!!!) "accidentally introduced into the eastern US about 1916. It has since spread over much of the country and severely damages lawns, golf courses, pastures, shrubbery, and fruits."
maybe putting him in our backyard wasn't the greatest idea.....
but leon's not like the rest.

spooks and haints

minutes. monday. july 18, 2005.

ooky spooky.
ghost stories and walks through the woods.
beth made delicious carrotcakecupcakes.
*"i like the idea of joke clothes. clothes with a punchline." - steveross (when beth was thinking of leaving the sequins on the back of her skirt after she had removed all of them in the front - business in the front, party in the back)
*SR wants to start an age-ist culture: "nice hip. it's easy to break."
*"even as i wrote that i didn't know what that meant" - beth, on the phrase "hopped up salad." SR thinks this would be a good band name.
*i didn't do any tetris work on that" - beth, on her story
*"what's that thing called...? what's that thing when you....?" beth wonders aloud. "drug addiction," SR interjects.
*"we're drug addled bastards" -SR

these are pretty boring minutes, eh? i've no knack for this any longer.
beth's garden looks amazing. when steve went outside, we heard him say holy shit and thought it might be about the re-entry into non-conditioned air. beth said she liked to think it was about her garden....and it was.
funny pictures were taken. surely beth will add those later.
anything else, comrades?

ESP Pill

We should get some of this:
Magneurol
The testemonials are funny...

minutes. monday. july 11, 2005.

never known for my timeliness, i belatedly offer you this....
(to be read in addition to beth's notes)
here's what i started writing on paper the following day....
last night's nhwc meeting dissolved into ravenous eating, occassional wine sipping, ridiculous and oft-times obscene conversation, and an accidental nature adventure. it seems steveross is our anchor, further proven by the fact that he is the only one who wrote anything. without him, we are just some girls hanging out under the guise of being an essential part of the literati. sometimes we use big words and this justifies us.
we met a number of insanely cure creatures - bam'ba, the tiny orange kitten with concern-inspiring eyes and an excellent demeanor (his pending name was zorro, and part of our mission going there was to give him a proper moniker); the cat the blended in with the frond-yard flora in which it lounged; zipper, the friendly family cat (who i immediately insisted on referring to as "zips"); and the giant beetle (that is apparently named leon, though i kept referring to him as "bugaboo" during the transport. i was on a role with awful names) who sat on the beth's garbage-rescued plate (that makes it sound the garbage rescued it, doesn't it? some writer i am) to be brought away from the curious paws of zips. i have yet to determine what sort of beetle mr. leon bugaboo is. i could not locate his kind in the book i looked in today.
hmmm....that was rather repetitious. how annoyingly self-centered of me to insist on posting my own notes. oh well.
two additional moments:
*while beth lamented trying to tell someone a story they've already read about in her blog, siri says, "that's why in conversation you say, 'refer to my blog.'"
*"i can't date a boy who's allergic to cats" - sarah
"yeah, there's no future there" - siri
(this was recorded by siri in order to reassure me that i, too, contributed funny moments to our meetings after i told her she had the most funny moments in the minutes. however, while this was funny at the time, it does not seem very amusing now, plus it is not funny without siri's comment. thus proving my point that she reigns supreme in nhwc comedy)

i think i ought to resign.

from a google search for "are scientists as hot as writers?"

From China Daily: Sparks Fly Between Scientists And Writers (please see the site for the pictures)

The second day saw sparks flare up when a couple of attending writers, including Zhang, said they were scared of science, which they said has such overwhelmingly huge and potential disastrous power. Wang, who said he has many scientist friends, shared his view that artists and writers should depart from their fear of science. Fear often arises out of ignorance, he said.Instead of being scared of science, artists should be scared of their ignorance of science, he said. Qin Boyi, a scientist who has written several books on science popularization, agreed with Wang, adding that scientists have also acquired inspiration from liberal arts. "It is not uncommon that many top-notch scientists have a good understanding and knowledge about arts and literature," he said. "Einstein was a big fan of classical music and played the violin quite well."

Are scientists as hot as writers? discuss!

science 

(image credit: T-bone)

science vs. romance (poetry)

Subject: science vs. literary journals (with props to my lady Alexis Clements, lover of science and writing, for the info and the always excellent mail & e-mails. She rules)

From the Nobel info on 'Roald Hoffman' a Jewish Pole who went to Moscow University and won the big prize:
" One thing is certainly not true: that scientists have some greater
insight into the workings of nature than poets. Interestingly, I find
that many humanists deep down feel that scientists have such inner knowledge that is barred to them. Perhaps we scientists do, but in such carefully circumscribed pieces of the universe! Poetry soars, all around the tangible, in deep dark, through a world we reveal and make.

"It should be said that building a career in poetry is much harder
than in science. In the best chemical journal in the world the acceptance rate for full articles is 65%, for communications 35%. In a routine literary journal, far from the best, the acceptance rate for poems is below 5%.

"Writing, "the message that abandons", has become increasingly
important to me. I expect to publish four books for a general or
literary audience in the next few years. Science will figure in these,
but only as a part, a vital part, of the risky enterprise of being
human."
whole thing here

Oh, scientists, I've said it before but how I love them!

zipper

on the tail end of my nocturnal bike ride i encountered none other than our friend, Zipper. how sweet it was to pet his luminous fur in the smoggy glow of the street lamp. i am going to try and visit him nightly.

any takers?

MaRy TiMoNy
Friday - 7/15/2005
The Space Hamden, Connecticut
Doors: 7PM; $10; all ages

(it might sell out so buying tickets in advance might be called for)

rejection from mcsweeney's website

Siri:

I enjoyed this [story of the milkmaid], but I’m afraid that I don’t see it as a fit for the site. I wish you luck in placing it elsewhere.

Best,

John Warner
Website Editor

oh sugar, I'm all over this new posting

stuff on cats, and based on the minutes I think its obvious how we feel about cats.

to blog or not to blog, that is the question

do blogs make people better writers? or worse? here is the article that poses, but does not answer these questions

July 11 minutes, take 1: night of cats & beetles

because Steve Ross wasn't there, the order of the universe was completely off kilter. first, no one wrote anything. not even me. but I did cook a lot of weird food combinations. second, it was really hot. and still, no family swim center. but on to the minutes, which relate not at all to pursuits of the literary type.
SLS speaks on what she looks for in a man: someone who is not too needy, someone who treats her like her cat does: who gives her space but does not smother, except in the boudoir. (that sounds sinister, here is the direct quote) "who can be independent but later in bed who will lick my armpit and my face in my Queen Helene mask." Sally rebutted, "what if you man is a cat like pom-pom, who always wants to lay on your lap while sitting down?" and then she said, "be careful what you wish for." (this whole lying about on laps reminds me of the photos I saw yesterday while I was at the oral surgeon's waiting for jc, and there were these pictures of all nicole richie & parie hilton laying on their men's laps. gross. so, they are cats like pom pom). I burped loudly and sally said, "which one of you was that?"
Sally wore a church of elvis shirt to school and related that one child wanted to know who the guy on it was, and thought he was an indian. siri concluded (with my help locating the word "lexicon" that, "he's not part of the cultural lexicon anymore," and spent a moment saddened by the idea. sally said the kids are young, they also have trouble identifying celebrities like paris hilton and nicole richie. (okay, I made up that last part).
Luther Vandross=Sysyphus. (I never studied the greco-romans, have no idea what this means) (but serves as further proof that without steve ross we become celebrity obsessed. There is one piece of bruchetta left, and sls says, "we could go put it on Luther's Grave," because I had earlier mentioned he resided in old greenwich connecticut.
Here in the minutes I sort of lose track of what's happening:
sarah on the end of late night rendevous, "I better stop drinking the wine, I don't need the courage tonight." (I think somewhere in here we got into a lesbian/bisexual conversation as it relates to the household decorationg) SLS on the chicks at smith who liked her, "straight girls dig me because I look like Brendan Frasier."
Sally on the suggested sufjan stevens poster in the living room. "I'll move my bed in there. Hey baby, it's bedtime."
SLS back on the subject of what she needs in a man: 1. talented (like, as talented as sufjan)2. good teeth 3. older> specifically a decade older at least 4. insensitive to everyone's feelings: including himself 5. not an addict 6. did she already mention talented? yes, she did. 7. sex is great, "really good in bed." 8. good with the pleasure principal 9. confident 10. not fat.
A tall order.
Then we went to visit steve h's new cat, bamba, who is 13 weeks old and looks like miss cat might have, were she light orange and a kitten. on the way, I found a nice dish in bulk trash and put it in sally's bike basket. we went by solo statement and lamented the great cat, rio, who lives there and is so great and lonely. sls contemplates a thievery of sorts. "is that illegal stealing a cat?" "yes," I say, "that's catnapping!"
After chilling with bamba we meet a nice cat named zipper and a huge beetle named leon who zipper tried to attack. then we transported leon away from zipper on the plate discussed earlier. sarah "stupid japanese beetles, I'm a racist!"
beverly, "yeah, they need to be killed." leon, I might add, was not japanese as far as we know. he was quite handsome. then we ate some flavor ice and I went home to play scrabble. greyskull.

since we all love cats and chuggens:

cross-post.

i posted a link to our blog on the magic bullet, so it only made sense to post them here. plus there are many entertaining things to behold. only now i can't steal cool links from there and claim them as my own. darn.

inappropriate use of our blog...

ok. so i was watching 'blast from the past' (a real 90's gem of a film) starring brendan fraser today on tbs, and then tonight it came on again. and because both i and other people see a resemblance between me and mr. fraser, i decided to procrastinate by doing a side-by-side comparison. you don't even want to know how long i spent on this (i think this may be a sign of insanity). i am posting it here because it is fucking hilarious to me, and i want to illustrate that instead of elijah wood portraying me in the nhwc movie(as steveross suggested), brendan fraser should play the roll. he may be almost 7' tall, but we look like twins separated at birth. here is the evidence:









(if anyone is put off by this, please feel free to delete it. it is so late at night that i am unsure of my judgement in posting this, so of course i am erring on the side of absurdity. it must be noted, however, that this is not an act of vanity, because i have posted some unflattering pictures here and also am slightly dismayed that i look so much like a boy.)

4:41 in the am--is it saturday morning or still friday night?

i was just reading over the minutes (both the most recent ones and the ones sarah re-posted from a prior week) and maybe it's the sleep-deprivation but i laughed so hard and though it made senator digger give me a dismayed evil eye it felt good. how is that for a long long sentence? i should really go to sleep now but first:

miss cat camoflaged
from death and obesity
curled upon the rug.

senator digger
cares not for the taxpayers
thinks only of mice.

pom pom choo choo sleeps
between piles of clean sheets and
dreams of chewing cud.

yep, that's the feline roundup haiku-style (wouldn't it be great if there were a newspaper that had all of the articles in haiku form?-->please note i have no alcohol or drugs in my system as i type this).

i should sleep but the haiku keeps coming...

oh deflated pool!
alone so far from ocean
tides and little girls.

raccoons in rain storms
clean imaginary fish
behind real dumpsters.

miss cat now awake
zenamatronic dancer
slow as time moves fast.

2nd minutes: wednesday july 6

beth's are better.

we ate some yummy salsa, hummus, cheese, and beth-made guacamole. mmmmmmm.
*following the reading of siri's poem, we had a long discussion concerning the grotesqueness of fireworks displays (culturally, symbolically, environmentally, etc.)
*siri re-reads some of her favorite lines from steve's story, in the middle interjection, "do you not see that, steve?!?" (referring to his awesomeness)
*we conceived of a new 80s movie: "back to gym", based on the common nightmares of siri, steve, and sarah involving not having attended enough gym classes in high school and other gym related horrors
*siri, very seriously: "so maybe by osmosis he's becoming autistic."
*beth and sarah are alienated, then terrified, by the moleskine cult forming before their very eyes. siri was obsessed before, but now that she owns one, she is even more devoted. steveross admits that after finishing each moleskine he labels the spine with the date and creates a table of contents. siri considers her moleskine a surrogate companion in lieu of a significant other. siri and steveross repeat an earlier conversation, saying that the smaller size moleskin is the best PDA ever, while the larger is the best laptop. both parties list the benefits and while beth and sarah see that it is a nice notebook, they are frightened by the all-consuming passion that comes with owning one.
*contens of beth's trader joe bag after loudly crashing to the floor: (as dictated by
SR)
1 banana, broken
1 floodlight, with a brrraaaa....or bathing suit
many cords
satchel
chocolate covered pretzels
maybe a mouse
other wires
...it's getting personal down there. i don't want to go any further.

possible assignment: if you can't get writing, write something that involves a dream.

[now i'll go back and try to do those minutes i did then didn't do and now will do again]

meow.

oh my god. cat extravaganza. (cat-stravaganza?)

I am secretarialist?

I submitted my poem to my mother (does this count guys?).
She said she liked the poem a lot but:

"I think you should take out the reference to secretaries. It seems snobby and classist. There are dopes with no taste at all levels of society, and I know some pretty smart secretaries. You were one when you worked at Temple [Medical]."

I meant to use these menial-job workers in the poem to illustrate the bankrupt-of-real-meaningness and consequential superficiality such lives entail (this automaton numbness something I have indeed known from first hand shit-job experience). But do I just come off as being a big snob?

Picture Pages, Picture Pages (sans Bill Cosby)

stenographer:


before:


after:


concentration:


senator digger's filibuster:

condensed minutes July 6, 2005

Until Sally posts the real minutes, here it is:
1. lots of discussion on the merits of moleskine and while viewing old digital pictures of the birthday party sls said, "oh, it's making me sad to see the family swim center in its prime--it's taut, it's turgid with air." and "oh, that's when me and my moleskine just met."
2. why were we meeting on wednesday? because monday was 4th of july (siri wrote a poem about it, see her blog)
3. steve ross on lola foto which we will hopefully soon publish, said, "she looks like a senator. she should be saying, 'I oppose this filibuster!'"
4. where has the family swim gone?
5. I am learning basic web site crap for work, and it rocks. that is so not minutes. where are you when we need you sally? do you need a typist? I'm in.

•∂

I've grown tired of this fetishism
blotted out each memory
absorbed every nuance.
Now it's just old hat.
It first struck me with menace
then excitement, then power of a kind
a naughty power I could share
with a select few -
then it became cute.
Then routine.
And now done.
It was never my fetish anyway, but a friend's which I adopted.
It tunneled through a decade of my life,
recently emerged out the other side
and its memory
unnostalgic
just leaves me embarassed.
But something of it still resides inside -
A specific desire
for another's fetish

Men and Women

Supplied with bones
our watery bodies bend angular
sometimes cracking from falls
sometimes throbbing with ossification
These meager bags are full of
ideas and microorganisms
waste products and consciousness
Ape in form and ideology
Simian in goals and tact
We creatures are but mammals
frightened as rodents
fecund as ungulates

a manifesto, and I like it

New Sincerity

the word, outside

Anybody up for some live poetry in a nice garden?
Sunken Garden Poetry Festival, next Thursday night @ 7:30 PM has their reading of the annual poetry contest winners. I think the second place dude is the one I like better, having read some of his work elsewhere. Here is a link to a poem, and his site. His name is Douglas Goetsch
It is outside in a nice garden, and live music starts at 6:30. I might like to make a trip of it, any other NHWC party in?