CRISPY FLOTILLA

WAIT!

2012-01-29T14:23:00.001-08:00

Isn't this where the Beatles froze their hienes off when they were recording LET IT BE?

LITTLE MICHAEL JAGGER

2012-01-28T04:15:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hEOjV3Q4OJE&feature=related

THINGS I UNDERLINED IN AESCHYLUS' THE SUPPLIANTS MONDAY NIGHT

2012-01-28T03:37:00.000-08:00

A congregation glittering, bizarre in alien robes and diadems.

I claim in proudly through a childblessed cow.

All heregathered are your lords. Praise them with trembling. Settle in their cleanness.

A pitying of doves who know hawkfear.

On this voyage of women who set sail where Nile twists through saltpolished sand.

We fly before we were pinioned over a trembling sea.

They say He took bull's form and covered her.

Sea's blue night will heal over slashing, black oars.

My voice is the wail of all funerals.

A VISITOR FROM HAWAII

2012-01-28T03:34:00.001-08:00

It makes me feel nice and warm and breezy.

THE ALT SIDE OF GUMBY

2012-01-28T03:28:00.000-08:00

Art Clokey explores the peacock, rolling things, stair objects and FreudClams.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQxWL2ugDl0

I THINK

2012-01-27T04:46:00.000-08:00

I think this is William Carlos Williams. I am so glad that he got to touch a palm tree. I am sad that he never wrote about the experience of touching a palm tree. I understand, though, because touching a palm tree is nothing special, although some say it is a very spiritual experience. They say: when you touch a palm tree, you should remove your hat, like you do in church and fancy houses.

The Grand Plié Poems

2012-01-19T18:36:00.000-08:00

#1

MY DOG DIED LAUGHING LAST NIGHT

It’s the way he would have wanted to go.
I was in the kitchen executing a grand plié.
He was in the kitchen too. At his water bowl.
He stopped drinking from his water bowl.
Nobody thinks that I am elegant.

#2

BALLERINAS LOOK LIKE FROGS

Ballerinas look like frogs when they
execute a grand plié at the barre.

Usually they are wearing black
or pink.

Their flesh is somewhat brown.

But otherwise they look like frogs.

Frogs that have decided to try
something new.

Although it isn’t really that new
for frogs.

Today there is nothing new for frogs
in the world of ballet.

2012-01-18T20:20:00.000-08:00

Abigail Adams asked John Adams for many things
for her children, but only one thing for herself.

A green umbrella from Paris.

I would like that umbrella if nobody else wants it.
If it still is green and from Paris. If it ever was.

DESCRIBING KATE MOSS’ FACE TO A GUY WHO IS SITTING DOWN LIKE A FASHION PHOTOGRAPHER EXCEPT HE LIVES IN OKEECHOBEE WITHOUT A CAMERA

2012-01-12T22:34:00.000-08:00

Her neck is a seashell, but you don’t know what this is because you don’t live near the ocean.

Her lips are the color of a Ferrari after you have given it a good buffing and a generous coat of wax.

Her cheeks are the color of rust on an old lawn mower in the shed just as the sun comes into that old shed and shines on that old lawnmower.

Her eyes are the color of World War I uniforms that the British wore, which is interesting, since Kate Moss is British.

I think Kate Moss is British.

Her eyebrows are sort of bumpy not buttery smooth - if you went down them in a sled your butt would hurt and you would slide down into her nostrils, which look like a magnificent hawk that hunters love to shoot when the hawks swirl up in the sky and drift in the clouds in the sky.

If you are lucky, you might not end up in her nostrils when you sled down her eyebrows but instead her mouth, which is scrumptious, and occupied by teeth that look like polished Chicklet peppermint gum nougats.

These are the gum nougats that Ferrari owners prefer to keep in their cars. It relaxes them, which is extremely important if you drive a Ferrari.

Kate Moss’s hair is like Eddie Munster’s hair.

It’s the only thing about Kate Moss that I don’t understand.

But I don’t want to either. I like a little mystery in my life, and a dash of laughter.

Kate Moss is looking at you right now and asking you why.

Tell her you don’t know why. That’s just the way things are. But everything changes.

Everything changes.

Kate Moss wants to know when.

MY HEART REALLY PUMPS IN THE LITTLE PLACES

2012-01-09T21:37:00.001-08:00

When I hear someone having fun outside.
I stand by the door and moan.
Until I hear someone say “How awful.”
And they all go inside and keep talking.
And I go to their front door and listen carefully.
I make sure they are still having fun.

HE LOOKS SO COOL LIKE THIS

2012-01-09T07:51:00.000-08:00

Not him...HIM.

HEALTHY LUNCH CHOICES

2012-01-09T04:17:00.001-08:00

HEALTHY LUNCH under 400 CALORIES

Greek Chopped Pita Salad

2 cups romaine lettuce
2 tablespoons crumbled feta cheese
1/2 cup canned garbanzo beans, rinsed and drained
1/2 cup cucumber, sliced
1 whole wheat pita, chopped
2 tablespoons low-fat vinaigrette

cut up all the stuff and put it in a bowl

HEALTHY LUNCH over 400 CALORIES

Greek Chopped Pita Salad Avec Milky Way Bar

2 cups romaine lettuce
2 tablespoons crumbled feta cheese
1/2 cup canned garbanzo beans, rinsed and drained
1/2 cup cucumber, sliced
1 whole wheat pita, chopped
2 tablespoons low-fat vinaigrette

cut up all the stuff and put it in a bowl and put a Milky Way bar on top.

WHO WAS THE GREEN GODDESS?

2012-01-05T05:39:00.000-08:00

  I say it was Athena. I know her eyes were grey but that doesn’t mean herself wasn’t green. Green can mean fresh, clean, new, or green can mean tarragon, cucumbers, chives, leaf, oil chuckling down the spout. In this case, if you mix grey and green together, you get green. That’s because they say wisdom (that was Athena) is never new, but someone else, named Ralph, said, It’s new all the time and I agree with Ralph, it’s new all the time. I personally never liked the idea of a green goddess until I got older, just like tarragon, no thank you, and grey seemed like a funny color to make things clear. But I woke up one day and said, Yes, I would like some tarragon, some cucumbers, some chives, some leaf. Oh, why not go all the way - make it a goddess, a fresh one. Paint the skies with so much grey green, and Hello! my sandwich. My day continued in this way for some time until it was more than one. But why? They also say your heart should be firm but I don’t think it should. It really cannot work at all until it is so soft that it almost falls apart. Work hard, she says, become soft. And that takes time.

READING LUCRETIUS

2011-12-25T18:13:00.000-08:00

Or reading Plautus. And how parents build
their children like houses. But then they must
go away. Experience comes to the child in the
form of a rainstorm that rips off the roof.
The house is filled with water and nothing
grows or lives for the teenager of ancient
Rome. There is nothing for ancient Roman
parents to do about the house they built
and left. They were supposed to build and
leave and they did. Build and leave.

PAT BOONE AT THIRTEEN

2011-12-24T07:32:00.000-08:00

Pat Boone leaned over and gave Gale
a kiss on the cheek. UGH, Gale said.
Pat Boone, you kiss like a cow! Pat
Boone wondered: had Gale been
talking to Doreen?

THE SECOND ANNUAL CRISPIES: my favorite moments of inspiration: 2011 (#1)

2011-12-23T21:51:00.000-08:00

#1: MESHACH DREAMS BACK

Music wakes up again

By Jane Siberry

http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/janesiberry8

THE SECOND ANNUAL CRISPIES: my favorite moments of inspiration: 2011 (#2)

2011-12-23T21:40:00.000-08:00

#2: THE MAN ON THE TRAIN

Because Donald Sutherland made me rediscover ee cummings almost like woody allen did before him.

Life is so funny.

Buffalo Bill's
defunct
who used to
ride a watersmooth-silver
stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what i want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death

**

THE SECOND ANNUAL CRISPIES: my favorite moments of inspiration: 2011 (#3)

2011-12-20T04:20:00.000-08:00

DEREK MONG.

I can't do what he does and I wish I could. But I am glad he does what he does because he does it and oh so well he does. Who knew a split earthworm held the secret of our frailty and our hair's breadth from destruction and our hope for survival?

Mong knew!

EQUIVALENTS
Derek Mong

Concerning equivalents:
lost amid
the Roman catacombs, a priest will halve
his candle flame
until one glow doubles
and redoubles on the tongues of terra-
cotta pots –
a lesson the split earthworm

learns, as he stands twice the chance of being
split again:
a wise move to reproduce
for two worms slither twice as far as one,
which explains
why warheads unlock themselves
above a cityscape, thus brokering

a wider
higher bloom –
their sanguine hues

and party stars spread throughout the ether.
Are fewer survivors
what this division
equals? How does such backwards algebra
apply to the holy
whose wafers, cracked
in eighths, constitute a body, though whole

ones add up to crackers? Furthermore, how
am I standing here,
by-product of bi-
furcating cells, each one teased in two till
too many pulls
spelled embryo, and one
final tug divided me from other?

THE SECOND ANNUAL CRISPIES: my favorite moments of inspiration: 2011 (#4)

2011-12-06T03:59:00.000-08:00

#4

FINALLY!

The best poem written in the 20th century is available online.

Others may disagree, and that's all I have to say about that.

Every time I read it, tinglies.

Thank you, James Tate, for having written it.

I MUST HAVE BEEN THAT MAN
by James Tate

Over at Archie's Soda & Sandwich Shop
he ordered the bacon, lettuce and tomato
and then laughed loud, appeared
as one with a past now officially over
and headed for a ballgame or something
that won't wrench a soul too far
out of shape. We watched him for a while
just because of that one laugh, and then
he started to stare at us, not aggressively,
but as if he wanted to be asked over.
Finally, I went up to him and invited him
to our table. "Do I look that lonely?"
he asked. "Well, maybe I am and maybe I'm not,
but I accept your hospitality either way."
He wasn't stingy with his words,
but sometimes they were hard to follow.
He'd had a parachute accident in the military
and had been hospitalized for several years.
They had taken good care of him, but now
he had very little memory of anything before.
He wasn't unhappy, he said, just curious.
No one, as far as he knew, visited him
in all his time in the hospital.
Several of us could barely hold back out tears.
"Or course there was a nurse," he said,
"there's always a nurse, right? Gena,
Gena would bathe me when I didn't need bathing,
she was one bathin' nurse. She should've
gotten the Nobel Prize for bathing."
"Did you love her?" Barbara asked.
"I Don't suppose it's a good idea
to love someone just because they pity you,
but if you can't help yourself there's
worse things than being a fool."
We sat in silence a while. Finally, I said,
"Mind if I ask what you were laughing about
up there at the counter by yourself?"
"Well, the bad news is there never was a Gena.
But the good news is there wasn't a fall
from a parachute either. So see how
it all works out. Nice, isn't it, nice and easy."
With that he got up and walked away.
Later, Barbara said, "He wasn't lying
about Gena, he did love her. I know he did."
"But what about the fall?" I said.
"I suspect there was some kind of fall," she said.
"even if it was just a little stumble."

THE SECOND ANNUAL CRISPIES: my favorite moments of inspiration: 2011 (#5)

2011-12-06T03:48:00.000-08:00

If 28 year-old Christopher does exist, he really should.
I leave you with his vitals and a sample of his genius.

BASIC INFORMATION:

Affiliation
I am not connected to the simpsons in any way i am just a normal cute guy

Biography
Since i was dead small i have drawn characters from the simpsons and everywhere i go or went people called me Chris (Simpsons artist) even when i was 5 or 6. my mum is so important to me and i really like playing tricks on her as well but she made me get my own house to live in because she said she needed a break and it was getting so much for her so she got me a house and i started my facebook so...See More

Gender
Male

Personal Information
My name is Christopher and I am 28 years old exactly. i like to draw fine detailed pictures of characters from the hit television programme the simpsons and i also like to draw other people from films that I have watched and remembered and people I see on television and in the newspaper and i have a photographic memory and i am just a man who has worked hard and practiced drawing pictures and famous people and animals and baby barn owls for 5 hours a day and 23 years of my life and i have a pet baby mole called tired eyes and he is so sweet i love him so much and he has light blue eyes.

Personal Interests
i am on the twitter @GetBentSaggy and its good.

Email
simpsonsartist@hotmail.co.uk

Website
http://www.picturesthatigoneanddone.com

THE SECOND ANNUAL CRISPIES: my favorite moments of inspiration: 2011 (#6)

2011-12-01T04:23:00.000-08:00

#6

If there was a Nobel Prize for Sweet Weirdness and Patience and Precision, Irina Werning would win it every year. This photography project embraces my greatest love: the art of change - (and some might say, the more they do, they more they don't.)

How does she DO / FIND some of these? The locations, the exposures, the backgrounds, the nerdy glasses, the accordians for god's sake - the boots? By God, I don't know. I almost want to go to Argentina to find out.

Super special honorable mention to the brothers who returned to the soapy bath together. I think they are brothers, who knows?

Find Irina here: http://www.thedailytelecraft.com/2011/06/spotlight-irina-werning.html. Please!

THE SECOND ANNUAL CRISPIES: my favorite moments of inspiration: 2011 (#7)

2011-11-30T10:57:00.000-08:00

#7

I always forget this wonderful spinner of superreal escher-twisting vignettes because my brain wants to say "Wendy O. Williams." No, it's not her. Although Wendy S. Walters takes a chainsaw to reality much as WOW took one to snazzy muscle cars. And both seem to have tender hearts beneath their chainsaw wielding and writing persons.

Thank you Adam Robinson and Sommer Browning and Everyday Genius for bringing this wonderful stuff to our attention ...

At a dinner party I am told I sound
just like a famous comedienne
Around the table, my friends nod
to note their agreement

I have never found her funny,
and I tell them this
They say

See! You sound just like her—

THE SECOND ANNUAL CRISPIES: my favorite moments of inspiration: 2011 (#8)

2011-11-30T10:51:00.000-08:00

#8

The very very nice and very innocent and savvy and delicate and ferocious and culturally grab-bagged beauty artwork of Bianca Stone. Can I have a brain and finger transplant? Just so I could draw such things, it would be worth it, although I would miss parts of my old life. Maybe just for a day, just to check it out.

THE SECOND ANNUAL CRISPIES: my favorite moments of inspiration: 2011 (#9)

2011-11-30T10:44:00.000-08:00

#9

Keste's Pizza and Vino, Bleeker Street, NYC. So puffy and inviting, that I am no longer afraid of hopping aboard trains that go to New York City as long as I have bought a ticket in advance and have a fluffy pillow at the ready.

THE SECOND ANNUAL CRISPIES: my favorite moments of inspiration: 2011 (#10)

2011-11-29T18:55:00.000-08:00

#10

While illustrating ALICE IN WONDERLAND in 1969, Salvador Dali discovers his inner Dave McKean. And Tim Burton. And Edward Gorey. And Ralph Steadman.

Or rather, they find him.

SUNDAY

2011-11-29T03:18:00.000-08:00

There is very little light in my room and so I thought I would buy some dried flowers and put them in a vase. I have never looked at dried flowers before - my Mother used to buy them and I hated them because they were plastic flowers that looked dusty and faded and terrible. But today they are a wonder to behold - holly berries, dogwood, ginko, cranberry - they are all so beautiful. And in their vases are deep reservoirs of stone, sand, colored rocks, pear potpourri - I had no idea that you could fill a vase with these things and I did not know why you would. But the vases were filled with flowers and these wonderful things. But why?

It occurred to me on the way home that since dried flowers are a form of flower, holly berries, dogwood, ginko, cranberry could be their nutrients - their water. What happened to the flowers had happened to the water. The water is taken away from both and what is left. But why did water take so many different forms? There are all sorts of ways that we are nourished. There are stones, sand, colored rocks, pear potpourri. And I know I am forgetting others. Many others. It is not clear when water is water. Water just seems like water. When it is gone, though, you want to say thank you. You start to see all about what water really does. You start to see what it is. It begins to take shape.

GUIDELINES

2011-11-23T17:38:00.001-08:00

I think if you are going to vote on the best facial hair in the Civil War, you cannot know what battles the soldiers fought. You have to stay objective. I always do my best to stay objective. And in conclusion, I love Maj. Gen. Alpheus Williams best of all.

PEQUOT PERCALES: NO LONGER AVAILABLE IN FINE STORES EVERYWHERE

2011-11-23T04:16:00.000-08:00

It’s funny with all the things that people write about love that they never compare love to Pequot Percales sheets, a gift of sleeping luxury that is silky soft, cool and lovely, available in snowy white or soft pastels. Their firm even weave resists rumpling, and they keep their lovely refreshing, clean crispness longer than anything else in the universe and even though everyone loves them, still no one ever compares them to love.

Because love is not pastel. Love is white but not like snow. Love is made of silk so it can’t be silky because silk is silk not silky. Love is cool but then hot and sometimes mild like the Spring or that one day in Winter. Rumpling sounds like Charlotte Rampling. Love is not a luxury it is a right. Love refreshes but so does whiskey when it is cool and lovely. Nothing that is firm is love. Love is soft and firm but somehow soft. I know. It’s hard. I think I understand. Or I am trying to. I will. I promise.

COLOGNE OF THE GREATS

2011-11-23T04:15:00.001-08:00

Creed Tabarome Millesime, the men's cologne, costs $120. That seems like a lot, but with it you get The Maltese Falcon, Casablanca, They Drive By Night, In a Lonely Place, Lauren Bacall, Africa, whiskey, cigarettes, trench coats, and everything Humphrey Bogart ever saw. Not only that, you also get World War II, Malta, the feel of a big cigar, what Stalin's mustache looked like, the smell of a blue wool overcoat, rain on a battleship and everything else Winston Churchill ever saw including Pol Roger Champagne which is so good you can almost taste it from here. When you think about it, $120 is really kind of a steal for Creed Tabarome Millesime, because four ounces is a lot of Creed Tabarome Millesime, Creed Tabarome Millesime will last a long time, Creed Tabarome Millesime comes comes in a pretty bottle, will give you secret things, precious things, will make you love, will give you memories, and best of all, when someone in the elevator says "Pardon me, isn't that World War II?" you can say, "No, it is Creed Tabarome Millesime," - a terrific name to be sure and I keep Creed Tabarome Millesime in the right drawer where I keep the stuff that I need to be nearby and handy just in case of things.

FACE

2011-11-18T11:38:00.000-08:00

I saw a movie with the word “angel.”
Because I did, the computer said
I should see five other movies.

The first had a man frowning
at a woman in a blue shadow.

The second had a couple kissing
while a man made a telephone call
holding a gun.

The third had a woman watching a canoe
plunge over the rapids and she was wearing
a tight red dress.

The fourth had an unhappy man
in a trench coat hiding in the alley.

The fifth looked so depressing
I don’t want to even talk about it.

The movies had these words in them:
“ends”, “dark”, “no return”, “foreign”,
“danger.” What’s the matter with me?

I used to like things.

PLAIN AND PEANUT

2011-11-15T20:54:00.001-08:00

The vending machine man says that he never puts Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in the machine until winter because they melt too easily. You always know it’s winter, he says, when you see Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in the machine. And M & M Plain? Everybody hates them. Everybody. Don’t ever look for M & M Plain because you will be wasting your time. But M & M Peanut are everybody’s favorites. Peanut M & Ms will always be there. Everybody loves the Peanut. And the vending machine man sighed.

I don’t know if the vending machine man sighed because he felt sorry for M & Plain or happy about M & M Peanut. But then I remembered that M & M Peanut were everybody’s favorite. The vending machine man was like everyone else, and he was talking about something that was his favorite, so naturally, he sighed. You sigh when things make you happy, like peanuts, not when things make you sad, like plain.

TERRY AND TOM

2011-11-10T11:21:00.000-08:00

Terry asked if he was thinking of Elvis Presley when he sang that song.

Tom said, “I am always thinking about Elvis Presley.”

Elvis Presley never thought about Elvis Presley when he sang a song.

He thought about everything in the world when he sang a song,

except Elvis Presley.

Late at night, when everything was sweet and quiet, he would wonder,

What about Elvis Presley? What about Elvis Presley?

EDITORIAL

2011-11-05T06:34:00.001-07:00

My house is remarkably clean. When I walk through each room, I make a point of polishing a dull spot on a table or picking up a magazine or cleaning a glass or kissing my children. If my children are cleaning up with me, it is much harder to kiss them because they are cleaning in motion although the house becomes cleaner for it which makes me want to kiss them more and so I will stop to kiss them and they will stop to kiss me back and we become dirty with kisses and my house slowly becomes less remarkable.

A REVEAL

2011-10-30T19:49:00.000-07:00

"There are only two things that I love anymore" I told the cashier.
"Water and onions."

And then I bought some tomatoes and bananas that were on sale.

THIS DISHWASHER

2011-10-30T19:48:00.001-07:00

This dishwasher goes on and on and on
like an eternity of bustling libraries with
a card catalogue that is waterproof but
here’s the funny thing:

the only words in that card catalogue are
“dish” “cutlery” “glasses””pots” “pans” and
sadly, “filth” “drowning” and of course “help.”

HERE ARE THE DIFFERENT WAYS YOU CAN SPELL "HELP"

2011-10-30T19:46:00.000-07:00

leph, phle, hple, ephl, lphe, eplh, plhe, ehpl, hple,
elhp, pleh, lphe, ehlp, pelh, hlep, pelh, etc.

when you are in a terrible hurry.

LEGACY

2011-10-30T19:45:00.000-07:00

RICKY GARNI

* Make sure all words are spelled correctly.
* Try different keywords.
* Try more general keywords.

FILL IN THE BLANK:

2011-10-29T06:41:00.000-07:00

Sure, I’ll buy that book.
It ...

1) is brown
2) has a nun in it
3) smells like victory
4) loves me back
5) 's four dead in o-hi-o
6) is haunting my life
7) is haunting your life
8) is so cute I could just squeeze it to death
9) to death
10) is saying if loving you is wrong I... (fill in the blank)

a) don’t want to be right
b) want to be right
c) love orville wright

11) is my book anyway

DEAR MARGARET TATE

2011-10-27T15:30:00.001-07:00

Dear Margaret Tate,

I have enjoyed living at Apartment B-35 since 2001, but I just thought that you should know that THE PEANUT ROASTER is still thinking of you. They want you to buy their signature nut gifts, including but not limited to the Old-Fashioned Peanut Squares, the Hot Honey Peanuts, the Golden Gourmets and the Jalapenos. Me, I can’t decide which one I would buy - they all look scrumptious! But since this mailing is addressed to you right here at Apartment B-35, I feel that it would be irresponsible not to pass it along to you, Margaret Tate, the rightful recipient and former tenant, Apartment B-35. Since I don’t know where you live now, and since Joan Whitney lived in Apartment B-35 from 1990 until 2001, and since you lived in Apartment B-35 before Joan Whitney, and even perhaps before John Cadwallader did and Henry Gibbons before him, I will do the only thing I can do, and send this letter addressed to you, Margaret Tate / Apartment B-35 / USA and hope for the best. If you receive it, please do tell me that it has arrived and then I will know you are a ghost or spectre living in Heaven, Apartment B-35. If you are a ghost or spectre living in Heaven, Apartment B-35, please let me offer you my congratulations! I am proud and frankly, a little envious. And if you still enjoy The Peanut Roaster, I would suggest an order that includes the Golden Gourmets. I don’t think you will find a tastier treat anywhere on earth. The Peanut Roaster swears to God on that.

Sincerely,

Ricky / Apartment B-35 / USA
2011

8 SMALL, SHORT POEMS

2011-10-23T18:15:00.001-07:00

FLEETINGLY
It occurred to me
that a bonfire ...

**

MARSHMALLOW
Please don’t
make me

**

ATOMIC BOMB
What color?

**

WATCH ME
buy this Ferrari
with my mind

**

YEAH
I bet

**

MURGATROYD
somewhere a pink lion
is on its way to heaven

**

I FEEL
better now

**

WHICH
bonfire?

DON'T BOTHER TO KNOCK

2011-10-17T19:25:00.000-07:00

Saw a terrifically scary movie the other night.

Had a thought.

What about throwing a cute little bunny rabbit in there?

Marilyn Monroe hog ties a little girl in her bed.

She locks her uncle in a closet, runs down the stairs
of the hotel, buys a razor blade and holds it to her wrist.

Now would be a good time to throw in a bunny rabbit!

Hippity Hippity Hop.

What's that? Marilyn Monroe asks.

Why, it’s a bunny rabbit, Richard Widmark says.

Isn’t it the cutest thing, Marilyn Monroe purrs.

The bunny rabbit sniffs the razor blade and hops away.

Hippity Hop!

Aww, Marilyn Monroe sighs,
Is there anything more precious in the whole world?

Everyone smiles. The police bang on the door.

Now then, Marilyn asks, Where was I?

LOST SHAKESPEARE

2011-10-15T05:03:00.000-07:00

She walks into the room with a cake.
And then she starts screaming.
I never heard THAT word before. Or THAT.
My heart was trembling and my shoes were too tight.
I ran out of the house, it rained and my dog died.
And that’s why I never eat cake anymore.
Unless it is really delicious.

PAINTER

2011-10-15T05:02:00.000-07:00

We listen when he picks up the brush. And then we watch when he puts it down. When he falls down, we gasp. When he gets up, if he does, we clap our hands.

THE CONFESSIONS OF RALPH

2011-10-10T05:33:00.001-07:00

As I grow older, or let’s say as Ralph grows older, he cares more and more about two things: clouds and water.

He talks about clouds all the time.

Just yesterday he said, “Is that a battalion of alien space ships?”

And a glass of refreshing, ice cold water is like nothing else on earth.

“Mmm, delicious,” said Ralph. “Perhaps I will have one more glass.”

Funny, though, Ralph, or let’s say I - I don’t about the water that clouds hold.

And I don’t care about the clouds in my glasses.

Just the clouds in the sky; just the water in my glass.

Realizing at a certain age that you must buy a new brand of detergent is something I accept, but it is not really something. Realizing that it will probably rain is OK, too, and I have forgotten it already, and that is just fine with me. Does it matter?

But ice cold water, Ralph, and beautiful white clouds ...oh Ralph ... 

THE WAY OF ALL FLESH HALL OF MIRRORS by Samuel Butler

2011-09-30T20:09:00.000-07:00

According to my copy, a man stands underneath a tree, holding his grey hat.

In the background are two smallish grey clouds.

The man has locks of brown and stands erect upon a smallish yellow mound.

He appears quite hale.

His topcoat is blue.

He has a satchel underneath his left arm.

Or a gun.

There is a church in the background.

Across from the man is a woman with massive petticoats adjusting her stocking.

The stocking is worsted wool of red and white stripe.

Could she be a strumpet?

And then for some reason, there’s the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

But there’s good news! It isn’t leaning anymore.

On to page one.

This book is printed in The United States of America.

By a small kangaroo, reading this book.

IT'S SEPTEMBER, AND AUGUST IS READY

2011-09-28T07:06:00.000-07:00

WARNING

We will lose our sense of touch
if we cannot practice it carefully and often
with engraved wedding announcements
that arrive in our mailbox delivered
by mailmen whose whiskers we also
should occasionally caress

from AUGUST, by Ricky. © 2011 101 secret wing dings. All rights reserved.

HIDDEN DEEP INSIDE

2011-09-26T10:23:00.000-07:00

I am humbled by your hairy chest.
I have said this a thousand times in my life.
I like eating peaches.

THIS GUN FOR HIRE

2011-09-26T10:20:00.000-07:00

The conversation then turned to Alan Ladd in THIS GUN FOR HIRE. You wanted to talk about his height (5’4”) and I wanted to talk being he could only being he could express affection for was a cat. In fact, when the cleaning lady came and shoed the cat away, Alan Ladd (5’4”) smacked her (5’1”) in the face. That anger was in a way a gesture of love (undetermined height), the only expression he was capable of, and it was towards a cat (roughly 11”).

MY LAZY PROSE, SLEEPING

2011-09-22T20:54:00.001-07:00

I like the blind guy in the gym
because he holds his cane two inches off the floor.
The skinny older lady with the bikini-like tights.
Well, I call them bikini-like.
Is on the treadmill making hay.
I will never know what that means.
Nor hay alas will e’er I make.
Ten years ago I said, “I bet I will never hear
‘Stairway to Heaven’ again.” But look at me here now
will you. There goes curly top Robert Plant on the loudspeakers
and I am making hay which ne’er I durst thought I may.

There’s a lady who's sure, that’s for sure.

I call the blind guy Mr. B. Guy.
I call the bikini lady Robert Oppenheimer.
I could use an energy drink, Bob says.
Love is fission. Let’s go out where it’s bright
and sunny. Let’s see what the hell is up next.
And whatever it is, it’s outside for sure.

IF YOU ARE GOING TO BE THERE, SAY "HOORAY!"

2011-09-22T20:52:00.001-07:00

BRONSON!

2011-09-17T07:18:00.001-07:00

Last night I watched a movie about Britain’s most dangerous prisoner. I thought it would be funny because British accents are so funny. Mostly, though, it was depressing with lots of blood and dark rooms, and just a few funny accents.

I didn’t want to be depressed - I just thought I might have good dreams if I saw something like this, because my brain would do its best to make up for it. It didn’t, though. I had dreams where nothing happened at all.

Dream after dream after dream. Mostly I was just standing in a room making little circles with my feet. Sometimes I was looking out a window at a grey building. Other times I would be cleaning a glass with a green sponge.

I felt like America’s least dangerous prisoner.

There was only one other guy in all these dreams and he just kept walking by my door. Every time he did he told me that my accent was funny.

I told him that his accent was funny, too.

He looked scary, dangerous.

He said: “I am your best friend in the whole world!”

I said: “OK!”

BRIEF REVIEWS OF FILMS BY THE GUY WHO DID THE LIGHTBULB AND TRIED TO MAKE EVERYTHING OUT OF CEMENT (5)

2011-09-16T14:12:00.001-07:00

THE EXECUTION OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS (1895):
They use a dummy who looks just like Mary Queen of Scots of yesteryear. Then the executioner guy picks up the head and it really is Mary Queen of Scots*. Sometimes I wonder what Edison’s problem was. Still, this is the very best movie ever made, unless you really like Mary Queen of Scots.

* Well, not really THE Mary Queen of Scots.

BRIEF REVIEWS OF FILMS BY THE GUY WHO DID THE LIGHTBULB AND TRIED TO MAKE EVERYTHING OUT OF CEMENT (4)

2011-09-16T14:07:00.000-07:00

THE KISS (1896): May Irwin and John Rice. May Irwin appears to be John Rice’s mother. They talk to each other very very close, in fact, their mouths are sort of touching while they speak. And then when you least suspect it, John Rice fluffs his ample mustache and gives May Irwin, who I have decided is not his mother, a big juicy wet one on the lips. While they keep talking. Arguably the sexiest kiss of 1896 or 1897 or 1898. (In 1895 they executed Mary Queen of Scots.)

BRIEF REVIEWS OF FILMS BY THE GUY WHO DID THE LIGHTBULB AND TRIED TO MAKE EVERYTHING OUT OF CEMENT (3)

2011-09-16T14:03:00.000-07:00

THE SNEEZE (1894): A suspense movie. Fred Ott is the eponymous sneezer, and his up-down fore-aft motion is a balletic symphony of anticipation and moistness. Or opera or something like opera of wetness. At seven seconds, this film is lean, compact, and lean. (Note: Fred Ott wears a necktie, which seems like an odd choice of ties if you are going to do a bunch of sneezing or even one sneeze. John Rice at least wore a bow tie when he kissed May Irwin who wasn’t his mother.)

BRIEF REVIEWS OF FILMS BY THE GUY WHO DID THE LIGHTBULB AND TRIED TO MAKE EVERYTHING OUT OF CEMENT (2)

2011-09-16T14:00:00.000-07:00

SANDOW (1894): Sandow the bodybuilder puts his hands over his head and his biceps throb for about eight seconds. Then Sandow the bodybuilder crosses his arms like he is waiting for a bus or something. Then Sandow the bodybuilder looks at his six pack, and it ripples for a little under three seconds. Then Sandow the bodybuilder shows off his left bicep in the he-man style, and just when you think Sandow the bodybuilder is going to show off his right bicep in the he-man style, Sandow the bodybuilder stares at his stomach and in a flash turns around and starts really working his back muscles up and down and around sort of like a dance and a victory salute combined with a vaulting on the pommel horse sort of deal. This lasts for about two seconds. Then Sandow the bodybuilder turns towards the camera and smiles, looking very proud of himself and displaying in profile his modestly sized penis encased in leopard skin loincloth. This takes about five seconds. The mood of the piece is enhanced considerably by the two flames that seem to flank his every move. For just a moment the action - and there is a lot of it - starts to get a little repetitive with the stomach muscles rippling stuff for about four seconds, but Sandow the bodybuilder works it nicely like he is doing a John Travolta in Stayin’ Alive until you realize that John Travolta’s great grandfather was probably younger than Sandow the bodybuilder. Just at the point when the viewer is lulled into the rhythm of the piece and the Giuseppe Travolta dancing, Sandow, Sandow the bodybuilder smells his armpit and the movie ends in a way that is abrupt, although somehow is oddly satisfying, but mostly upsetting.

BRIEF REVIEWS OF FILMS BY THE GUY WHO DID THE LIGHTBULB AND TRIED TO MAKE EVERYTHING OUT OF CEMENT (1)

2011-09-16T13:55:00.000-07:00

LOADING BAGGAGE FOR KLONDIKE (1897): Not too many people seem interested in getting onto this fuzzy white boat. Someone is carting some kind of huge basket on board but who knows what that is. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a horse drawn carriage walks onto the screen. It says “STEEL” something on the back of the carriage, but by then I have lost interest. At twenty nine seconds, this film is about nine seconds too long.

THE BATMAN

2011-09-08T20:17:00.000-07:00

When Batman was first released in 1939, he wasn’t Batman. He was The Batman. OK. Here we go. The Batman went to the Fortress of Solitude to visit The Superman. The Batman and the Superman were The Friends. Ever since I was a little child, I wished that I could be The Friends with The Batman and The Superman, or at the very least be The Friends with The Spiderman. But that was not a fantasy, it was The Fantasy, and living The It made me The Sad and The Weird and The Lonely Boy Who had no real The Friends and wished he could The Die. Luckily, The Years passed, The Batman became Batman, The Superman became Superman, No Real The Friends became one good friend, and The Die became I want to The Live. Well, live. Why not? It’s better than The Nothing, if nothing else.

PROBABLY NOT THE COVER, PROBABLY NOT A POEM IN IT

2011-09-08T05:58:00.000-07:00

HOP ABOARD THE J TRAIN
a metaphor in the key of jay

What is the J Train?

J stands for a JABOT when you want to wear something frilly ON THE TRAIN.

J stands for JACENT for when you lie prone flat and sluggish; the TRAIN IS LATE.

J stands for JACINTHE your skin tone of orange for YOU LOVE TRAINS hence you are orangey with this love feeling of trains.

J stands for leaving momma BY TRAIN because she called you a JACKANAPES, which you are, and an insolent rascal to boot, you rapscallion.

J stands for JACUATION as you bring forth your exaltations you are happy to be ABOARD A TRAIN screaming and naked save for your Garanimals.

J stands for JENNET or NOT A TRAIN but instead a horse jennet and a small one certain to be not as fast as a train unless the train is an old one; the jennet, a new one; the finish line, close.

J stands for JESSAMY a pale jasmine-like yellow that’s the good news. The bad news is that it is describing your no-longer jacinthe orange skin for your love FOR THE TRAIN is fading to a jasmine-like yellow of jessamy.

J stands for the TRAIN, SO COLD that you must don your JIMSWINGER, a fashionable coat of frock to don. If only some of your friends were on the J they would note the piquant a la mode of your natty jimswinger.

J stands for JOBBBERNOWL which none of your friends ON THE TRAIN ARE nor are they jackanapes they are good eggs for it is you who are the jackanape (see “jackanape”, above.) Did I mention juggins? No. A juggin is for certain a type of imbecil. You are the juggin, to be certain. Your friend are nice.

J stands for JOLLYBOAT and everybody needs a jollyboat and every boat needs a jollyboat you will note that I say NOTHING ABOUT WHAT TRAINS NEED.

J stands for JORDAN or chamberpot. Imagine Michael Chamberpot ON A TRAIN. The sun is beginning to set, a wispy pink cloud is upon the horizon. The tinkle of urination. Evening.

J stands for my JOSS my destiny oh fate which it is to know you, OH TRAIN JUST A TRAIN with a J.

J stands for JUMBAL the TRAIN I ATE a thin, crisp sweet cake resembling a train until it was eaten with gusto by my friends NOT ON A TRAIN and then it resembled the contentment of my friends from the inside out.

J stands for the LAW OF ALL TRAINS: JUS. Au jus is composed of that which runs off the roast beef and gives it cafeteria flavor. We live by jus, we live for au jus. We are ON THIS TRAIN or are we yes we are no we’re not.

THE WAITER SAID...

2011-09-05T07:49:00.001-07:00

The waiter says “You must whisper.” “But...” I said. “He said ‘whisper’” my wife said. “But I am.” I said. “Why are you whispering?” the waiter asked. “This isn’t a library.” “This isn’t a library” my wife said. “You should be whispering.” “Why do you have to disagree with everything I say?” We all said at once. “You know,” I said, “Right now I am too hungry to eat.” “That’s OK,” my wife said, “We can just sit for a while and whisper.” “Speak up!” The waiter said, “What you are doing is not polite.” I started to feel angry. I didn’t speak up, I decided to stand up and do a little browsing. I found a terrific book by Emily Post. “That’s lovely,” my wife said. “Be careful not to drop it.” “I won’t” I said. “But you want to, don’t you?” she asked. I decided to change the subject. “You know what we are?” I asked her. “We are the only ones here” she said. “I know,” I said, “I guess we are the only ones who get hungry like this.” And then he was back, right on time.“Is there anything else I can get you?” the waiter asked. “You can get me something to start off with,” I said. “But it must be something quiet.” “But it doesn’t have to be quiet” my wife said. “Something like this?” the waiter whispered. “Or this?”

MEMOIR: CHAPTER ONE

2011-09-03T14:56:00.000-07:00

in 1971, if you were traveling from New York to Miami on the on the Silver Star, there was a piano that you could play in the lounge right next to the club car.

I am telling you that the piano was terribly out of tune. Playing it was very painful and difficult. There was a lot of smoke in the club car. The ice cubes had little divots in them. the Coca-Colas tasted nice and sweet.

I have always thought that everything is alive, I am corny that way, although you say “That’s OK”, and surely the piano was alive, is what I felt, and it was saying, I think: don’t go to Miami, don’t go to Miami. But I always went to Miami, from New York. I wonder if I went from Miami to New York if the train would say: don’t go to New York. Don’t go to New York. The ice cubes would still have divots in them, I think. the Coca-Colas, sweet.

I wonder why ... you know what? I don’t want to talk about why and that piano anymore. Let’s talk about the Woolworth’s in New Hampshire.

One night I threw up from eating chili and I couldn’t eat anything for almost a week. When I finally could eat something, I went to Woolworth’s in New Hampshire with my friend Gabe and had a hamburger. It was delicious.

2011-09-01T08:11:00.001-07:00

Let the pillow of orange air
dance inside your teeth

MY GREATEST ACCOMPLISHMENT

2011-08-23T05:15:00.001-07:00

I composed a horse for Christmas.
And bled like an airplane wing.

ADVICE

2011-08-21T19:03:00.003-07:00

Jimmy, whatever you are doing, keep doing it. You look great!

Donovan, whatever you are doing: stop.

DON'T TELL HIM YET, BUT THIS IS WHAT HE IS GETTING FOR CHRISTMAS

2011-08-20T05:22:00.000-07:00

LINES FROM A REALLY LONG POEM THAT I HAVEN'T DELETED YET

2011-08-20T05:21:00.001-07:00

Woodrow who said What the hell is the deal with that big cloud?
Johnny Boy who said I like everything about me except for the boy thing.
Richard who said Ah shucks, it was nothing when in fact it was the apocalypse.

VACANT LOT

2011-08-18T05:49:00.000-07:00

Nobody misses a good vacant lot like I do.
I remember staring at the insurance building for hours.
I sat down right across the street and just sighed.
I sighed so much that I thought I was going to cry.
I wondered what happened to the weeds.
And that little bush that was so pretty.
There used to be a beautiful yellow bird.
Before you know it, I was coughing blood.
That yellow bird once said: blood tastes just
like old fashioned cherry cough drops.

SOME ADVICE FOR PEOPLE WHOSE WORST PROBLEMS ARE ROBOTS

2011-08-09T12:14:00.001-07:00

Mr. Wilson said
if you are afraid,
just climb up one step
on the stairs. That way
they will never find you.

I NEVER TOLD THIS TO ANYONE BEFORE

2011-08-08T18:40:00.000-07:00

But my, that is a big face.

HALF A MUSTACHE

2011-08-08T18:35:00.000-07:00

Yves Tanguy is the only guy in the world who
was a surrealist and looked like a surrealist.

Except for Man Ray
and Kurt Schwitters
and Hans Arp.

Salvador Dali looked just like Salvador Dali.

And Max Ernst was a surrealist but he looked like
a super male model. And you know what? Max Ernst
just got better looking every year. Mmm Mmm Mmm.

And poor, poor Yves Tanguy just looked more surrealistic
every year. Eventually all that was left was one big old
broad swatch of hair sticking out and one broad old
swatch of blue that made everyone in the museums
point and say WHAT? in certain languages.

If the surrealists taught us anything, it was that
you can be polite on the surface of the moon,
guns are filled with pink feathers, and its’ perfectly
OK to wear half a mustache to the ball.

Max Ernst could say this: You may say that
everything is handsome.

I feel bad about Yves Tanguy.

But Max didn’t say that - he was too handsome.

Max said: I am too handsome.

Man Ray
and Kurt Schwitters
and Hans Arp
didn’t say:

I am too handsome.

Or

I feel bad about Yves Tanguy.

No, I said that.

LOST CEREALS

2011-08-08T18:05:00.000-07:00

This little cub shoots his peppermint pistol
into awaiting pops. Glory is his blue cowboy
hat and boots. Magic is what like stars comes out
of his six shooter like white stars of magic forever.

LOST CEREALS

2011-08-08T18:03:00.000-07:00

This bear shows his muscles
and his green tie and white collar.
His oats are tender. His muscles are OK.

LOST CEREALS

2011-08-08T18:00:00.000-07:00

His tiny red top hat is made tinier
by his huge velvet green bow tie.
He is a clown with blue lips and waves
of red hair and yet bald with a funny red
nose but just look at the spoon of sugar
krinkles just look at his normal and
fleshy hands.

LOST CEREALS

2011-08-08T17:45:00.001-07:00

His body is red and his nose is big.
He plays his guitar filled with
cinnamon flavored twists.
He offers you a head of potatoes.

MY ONLY THEORY

2011-08-08T17:44:00.001-07:00

I think everybody has grey hair.
Find a friend and stare at him
for forty or fifty years.

HEARTBREAK

2011-08-07T19:51:00.000-07:00

I hate Mexico.
Hershey’s has moved
from Pennysylvania.

I love Pennsylvania!
Guess where Hershey’s
is now? Monterey.

Monterey, Mexico.
I hate Mexico.
Do you know those

commercials where
you are skiing down
snow capped mountains

eating a York Peppermint
Pattie? Well, now you are
in Mexico and your Peppermint

Pattie is filled with dust and
smells of burros viejos
and you are dreaming

of snow capped mountains
and chocolate that hasn’t
melted in your ski glove

and chocolate kisses
and skiing on mountains
with snow on them

and then for some reason
your parents are telling
you to hurry up and

get in the car so we
can go to Burger King
before they died

MAKES ME HAPPY BUT THIS IS A LONG TIME AGO BUT STILL IT MAKES ME HAPPY

2011-08-07T19:47:00.000-07:00

THE BRIDE AND GROOM TO-BE

2011-07-30T04:06:00.001-07:00

REJECTED COVER FOR JULY

2011-07-21T20:54:00.001-07:00

OPAL SAYS

2011-07-21T20:49:00.001-07:00

they are always starting some war or other
but every year I see this cardinal outside my window
I am eighty one years old and every year he comes back
and every year they are always starting some war or other
somewhere, and far away

2011-07-18T21:24:00.001-07:00

I am not a religious man, but I do wonder about what exactly God was thinking when he designed man. We don’t think about it now, because faces seem so obvious, but when there weren’t any, it really wasn’t. If it were me, I think I would have designed something that looks more like a button on a frock coat. Something simpler. Or maybe one of those really beautiful Chinese kites. Something kind of exotic. Or something that means something. Maybe lips. Maybe just lips. I don’t write novels, I write poetry, so I think that if I had come up with lips I would have been very happy with man. I would have felt that he was complete. When I write poetry, sometimes I even lop off a few stanzas of a poem and feel better for having done that. It doesn’t even have to be my poems! Maybe if it had been up to me I would have made a complete face and would have lopped off the ears and hair and eyebrows and nose and stuff. I would have just stayed with the lips. But it wasn’t me. Maybe God is just lips. Maybe that is just where it started. Maybe for a while he was happy as a clam with man. And one day he looked and said, “I think I could use something more.” Of course he had no idea of what he was saying, but that is sort of how things are sometimes with us. And then we smile and sigh and roll up our sleeves and take a deep breath and say, “OK, now then, shall we?” with our lips. And we commence. And then it all gets a little crazy.

I’M GOING TO BED

2011-07-18T21:21:00.000-07:00

with Elizabeth Taylor,
Richard Burton said.
And he meant it.
The hair on his chest
was like on fire.

EVERYBODY LOVES TO KILL RICHARD WIDMARK

2011-07-18T21:16:00.001-07:00

Boy, that Richard Widmark could act. But man! he could be nasty sometimes. It’s not normal for a blond guy to be nasty. I think he had to put more juice into it than a brown haired guy. You have to wonder if he went bald. He looks like he could go bald. Hard to tell if he was tan, though.

Everybody loves to kill Richard Widmark. I mean everybody. Especially ladies. Richard Widmark really knows how to die, too. Good thing. He did it enough. Good ol’ Richard Widmark.

and then his body fell limp in the chair.
He was dead.
No, not really, he was just sleeping.
He seemed even nicer sleeping in the chair.
Like Richard Widmark only bald,
and nice. At five it would be time for
dinner and a movie.

OR IS IT STATIONARY?

2011-07-14T05:24:00.000-07:00

I bought a pen a long time ago and wanted to show it off but the more I thought about it the more I realized that there are very few opportunities to show off your pen if you want to do that. I guess you could write a check for someone but usually people don’t look at you when you are writing a check because that isn’t polite. You could write a love letter, but you have the same problem there, too. Someone once suggested that a suicide note would be perfect, but I told him that was about the lamest thing I ever heard and he looked really offended and I immediately regretted saying that because it was so impolite and I hurt his feelings. And so I wrote him a letter of apology right there on the spot and handed it to him without saying a word. He read the note and didn’t say a thing and looked at me for a long time, just staring at the note. Then he smiled and he looked like he was no longer going to kill himself and finally he said: “That’s beautiful stationery. Where did you get it?”

RELIEF

2011-07-14T05:23:00.001-07:00

My book on surrealism was delivered today in a really large brown box with extra bubble padding inside the box so that the surrealism inside the box would not be hurt in any way.

COMMAND MODULE

2011-07-11T21:16:00.001-07:00

I saw
I WALK
ALONE.
And then
the computer
said you really
should see I WAKE
UP SCREAMING.
And then the computer
said CALL NORTHSIDE 777.
And I said, I will do that.
Right after I wake up screaming.

BALFOUR

2011-07-11T21:08:00.001-07:00

SCENE ONE:

A guy with the first name “Sir” is shot to death: Balfour.
An inspector inspects him.
Let us jolly well go to Scotland Yard!
And think about this.
Billy the Butler might have done it.
As might perhaps Sir Jimmy.
Or Call-Me-Mr. Hibbs.
But that doesn’t explain the suicide note!
Nothing explains a suicide note!
You might as well ask a donkey to read Kierkegaard.

CASE CLOSED.

Five years later, with scattered pages and hoof prints on the floor, little eithers and ors.
Dead Sir Suicide Note’s estate is occupied, like Ovaltine occupies a tall, cool glass: Balfour
Ovaltine is delicious. Some more!

SCENE TWO:

Beaver Skin Cap man now lives at Dead Sir’s and
He has the requisite beaver-skin cap.
He has the large fangy fangs.
He has the gruesome, sunken eyes.
His assistant is a ghost with breasts.
She has flowing robes.
She has raven black hair.
Could this be Balfour
who opens the door
like a n’er do well n’er more
eating ghostly s’mores?
I think that ...

But this movie has disappeared. Nobody knows where it is. In 1965 I drew pictures of it. I drew big dark circles under Lon Chaney’s eyes even. I probably saw it on TV. It was called LONDON AFTER MIDNIGHT. And in 1967 it disappeared. It would have been nice to steal it in 1965 and save it so that now everybody could watch it again. But how would I have known what was going to happen? I was ten years old. Disappearing is the worst thing in the world. Goodbye, London After Midnight.

SKA!

2011-07-10T04:28:00.001-07:00

The first day that I ever heard SKA music I felt as though I had just been born. Everything seemed so new and fresh. I felt as though I had fallen in love for the first time. I felt as though I had run so fast through the woods that I thought my heart was going to burst. I felt as though I had played the piano and had laughed as though there was nothing more delightful in the entire world and I was playing terribly. I felt as though I had stolen apples from the corner store. I felt as though I jumped over a turnstile and jumped onto a train to who knows where. I felt as though I had juggled oranges on the curb and they all fell down and it felt wonderful. It felt so wonderful that I felt as though I had laughed - at strangers, at loved ones, at my family, at celebrities and I felt as though they had all laughed too. Not at first, naturally, but I began to laugh and I felt so new and wonderful and they began to laugh too and they felt the exact same way. And we all stood up and raised our voices to the heavens and sang together to the skies: this has nothing to do with SKA music whatsoever!

ANCIENT HISTORY

2011-07-02T07:27:00.001-07:00

I woke up
early this
morning

and listened
to all of the different
grunts of Wimbledon
champions

I have this
little record

all the grunts
are different
from each other

they’re like
snowflakes

they’re fun

I forget which
is which

it’s an old and
scratchy record

and black

I like the sound
a tennis ball can
makes when you
open it

and the smell, oh
the smell

it’s fun

my goodness

I just fell down

It’s OK

everything seems
fun today

MALDITO

2011-06-28T08:20:00.001-07:00

I have this very special photograph of Arthur Rimbaud, poet maldito, who wrote all of his genius work before he was 21. The photograph is special because obviously it is a black and white photograph but someone hand-tinted his jacket peacock blue. Arthur Rimbaud would never wear a peacock blue jacket! If you look at his writing, you know that right away. He writes of green zinc coffin, buttocks bearing Clara Venus, and the dance of the hanged man - not peacock jackets. And this is the great thing about writing - you know so much about the author through his works. And this is the terrible thing about dying - you end up wearing clothes that you normally would never wear.

REPRINTED FROM JANUARY, 2007: R.I.P. GENE COLAN

2011-06-26T03:57:00.000-07:00

I find it interesting that Jack Kirby and Gene Colan both served in the armed forces. Jack Kirby drew the incomparable Fantastic Four, Captain America, the Hulk, the Eternals, etc. Gene Colan drew Doctor Strange and Submariner and Daredevil and Howard the Duck. Jack Kirby turned Delancey Street, NYC, where he was beaten up with some frequency, into Yancy Street, NYC, where the Thing beat up young punks when provoked. Gene Colan sat in the seat of a tank in order to draw a schematic of its control panel and noted that he sunk so deep into the seat that he couldn't imagine how soldiers could see. "That's simple," said his commanding officer, "you weren't wearing a parachute, were you?" He wasn't. Jack Kirby served at Normandy ten days after D-Day. Gene Colan served in the Philippines and never saw action. Gene Colan wanted to work for DC, but ended up working, at first, for Marvel, then known as 'Timely Comics.' Later he would draw the Dark Knight. Gene Colan was called 'Gentleman Gene' by Stan Lee. Jack Kirby was called Jack 'The King' Kirby by Stan Lee. Jack Kirby was born Jacob Kurtzberg. His father was a garment factory worker. Jack Kirby was Jewish. Gene Colan was Jewish. Stan Lee was Jewish. Gene Colan's favorite movie is 'The Treasure of Sierra Madre.' Jack Kirby went to Pratt, for one week. Gene Colan would trace stills from Hopalong Cassidy for reference. Gene Colan has file cabinets filled with pictures. "What use is it," he now asks, "to have a series of photographs of WW II destroyers?" Gene Colan was known for his extensive use of tints and shadows and hatchwork, a technique which drove early colorists crazy. Jack Kirby invented the 'Kirby Dot' - swirling images of vast cosmic planetry and debris, as real as anything you can find anywhere. Gene Colan knows how to turn a computer on and off. Jack Kirby quit Pratt, saying "They wanted people who would work on something forever. I didn't want to work on any project forever. I intended to get things done". Gene Colan drew under the name 'Adam Austen.' Jack Kirby penciled under the name 'Jack Curtiss.' Gene Colan was born in the Bronx. When Jack Kirby met Joe Simon, he was quite impressed. He had never seen a comic book artist wearing a suit before.

PAGE ONE

2011-06-25T20:05:00.001-07:00

I’ve always believed that there are two pages in the book of your life and you have to turn page one by yourself. It’s a whopper and a bear, and you have to stand with your legs apart and braced for balance and then fold the page over firmly yet gently like you would fold an fluffy egg white into a pie.

Page two: intermission.

How can that be?

NAMEOLOGY

2011-06-25T19:59:00.000-07:00

Everybody loves Jacob. Since 1999.
Isabella is popular. But watch out Isabella.
Here comes Iker and Crew and Zuri.
I know. I feel the same way.
Look at my database and weep.
I like to kick people with “names.”

Now

If you are looking for Grace and Emma
and Julia and Anna and Ella and Hannah
go to the library and pick out an old book
and sneeze from all the dust. The dust
of 2004!

Or pretend that you are riding a wave
on the that beach in California called
Nostalgia Beach. There are no jellyfish or
sharks there, only people named Grace
and Ella and stuff. The clouds are white
and puffy. I call that one “Anna.” I often
refer to my heart as “Ella.” I like being
a man. And I enjoy a good sno-cone.

I grew up with Williams and Davids
and Josephs and Jameses. I am not
ashamed of it. And the odds are that
my son and my son’s son will grow up
with them, too. My son is named George,
but I call him William David Joseph James
because I love him. I love him so much.
SO much!

I am a nameologist.
The letter “J” is not quite in the middle
of the alphabet which explains why there
are more boys whose names begin with
“J” than any other letter. It also explains
why we often call marijuana cigarettes “J”s.

And why the “J” is silent in Lerue.
Also invisible to the eye.

JoJo was a Beatles song, kind of.

He thought he was a loner, or a rental car.

“A” for girls is more obscure. Although there
are a great number of Averys, Ariannas, and
Avas who are real tarts. I mean tarty as hell.
What were their mothers thinking? Or maybe
their fathers. No, their mothers. I bet they all
smoke cigarettes and said I don’t care what
you think, Daddy. I don’t look forward
to these lives.

Most people’s names are now 5.9 letters long.
In the old days, they were 6.2 letters long.

Imagine a name that is 6 letters long.

I love postcards they are short.
Long letters make me sick.

Imagine a name that is 1 letter long.

What would happen if you took all the names
in the Bible and made them into one big name?
Nothing, I bet.

Until the earth began to tremble
with the love and the trembliness.

We are English and we know it and
names are perfect, perfectly fine
and awful. Our names are short and lovely.

Watch Sarah tumble down the stairs
until she is 49% of what she used to be.

AND I WILL SLEEP OUTSIDE among the CALLA LILIES

2011-06-25T19:55:00.000-07:00

Who’s that knocking at my door?

Nobody.

I walk outside and knock on the door.

Who’s that knocking at my door?

Nobody answers. I don’t think anyone’s home.

I will knock one more time.

I am too tired to walk inside.

I hate mysteries.

I never noticed these flowers before.

They’re pretty.

My keys, My keys.

I’m sleepy.

IT'S WHAT WE CALL IN THE BUSINESS A RAILROAD TRACK

2011-06-25T19:53:00.001-07:00

I feel as though I have done this all my life

2011-06-24T21:08:00.000-07:00

http://dearphotograph.com/

NAUGHTY INK

2011-06-21T21:42:00.000-07:00

I had different shapes
in mind for you.

OH DEAD MAN

2011-06-19T08:51:00.001-07:00

Oh dead man
give me your saxophone
so I can scare everyone
out of the way
and you can make your way
up the stairs
to the pretty white cloud
of finally at last

CRI DU CHAT

2011-06-17T21:55:00.001-07:00

Is what they call a certain type of
mental infirmity, often found in
in small children, due in part to
a partial deletion of chromosome 5

It also reminds me of me in the car
in heavy traffic on summer days with
my cat, Chat.

THE NUMBER OF TIMES I CAN LISTEN TO GRANDPA JONES SING "HOW MANY BISCUITS CAN YOU EAT THIS MORNING" WHILE ACCOMPANYING HIMSELF ON THE BANJO

2011-06-15T19:25:00.001-07:00

Zero.

NEW THEORY ABOUT THE MENTAL STATE OF CHARLES DICKENS WHILST ENGAGED IN THE WRITING OF DOMBEY & SON

2011-06-15T19:05:00.000-07:00

He was nuts.