October 14, 2010
the family meets.
“guys, i have called this official meeting…officially. during this meeting, we must discuss the issues on our agenda. so let’s start with issue number one. how are we going to resolve this?”
“i think that we need to consider all our options.”
“i disagree. i think that the best way to resolve the issue is to only spend time on the most likely solutions.”
“you are right.”
May 14, 2010
is there a thing? there should be a thing. where you can put your blog in geographical groupings and then you read the blogs of people in your area, your neighborhood, city, and then if you really like someone’s blog you can email them then they email back and then you fall in love because the writing is so good and melding and if you are someone who writes, this means so much to you it is like finding a WHOOSH to-gether and then you can hang out all the time in your apartments together and it would be dark and you can just laze around you know lying and typing on a bed on a chair and even maybe write a co-blog to-gether before realizing how much of a bad idea it was because even if your writing is melded everything about yous is not and the both of yous’ blog goes defunct which is fine and years later after you have broken up you read your co-blog and feel sad and smiley about memories then you call up the other one expecting they got married but they are still single and then you meet to-gether thinkin only coffee but then instead all manners of things happen and z!ng is still there because there was a reason you know, a real reason that you liked them in the first place, it was from their writing the words that you liked the feeling slooshing gleeze past you your mind attached to consciousness. you thought it was stupid to love someone just because you love how they blogged, stupid to join that thing there was where you put your blog in geographical groupings to read the blogs of writers in your area your neighborhood your city stupid to email that boy who wrote like droopy stars and technology is stupid and brings people farther while making them feel closer and all so stupid you should just meet people in real life you know, realspace you know, realtime you know, but you dont know.
you were stupid to think those things because there is no realspace nor realtime.
and now there has been much more than coffee and you are back to-gether again and cautiously opening slate box of whether you should co-blog on sameblog again. and this was the person that was meant for you. and the whole thing was just. a really. great. thing! that was found and you found it and what if you had never told them you liked their words or loved their words turning like them, love them? it was good for you to say, to send outwardly, it was a goodness, and this is why internet is great, and this is why you are with your love of your life and universe.
so i think, i think that there should be a thing. i want to find you who is writing like droopy stars and i want to be with your mind. where are you and who are you? those are not things that i know! oh i cant wait to find you, you’re there, i can feel it, even if you don’t know it.
April 5, 2010
“what is sexy shirt? sexy shirt is…whatever you want it to be! though i typically interpret it to mean that you have a sexy shirt.”
March 6, 2010
Sixty-Seven—Before I finally figure out if you’re insane or a genius.
When Hydra discovers the words of sound that accompany notes jumping like bold gazelles or antelopes maybe they are—there is not much distinction. Stacks of books lie up ahead and Hydra aches gazes to flip through skim or read. There is much work to be done in this time of now when mundane goal of undergraduate degree asks to acknowledge and bless the life like privilege of glaze on cake. There is no cakeness under this—nothing is ever underneath the embellishments that society begs to choke with. College is conveyor belt conveying towards no factory in particular except that of routine.
Hydra does not bend to literary tradition. It is as though victim finds way to entrap kidnapper then bends his fingers backwards ever so slowly. Hydra has overthrown that the this and she now she bends. Bends so far as to come close to breaking, but so much lost is meaning that it cannot be said that anything can be broken, or even bent.
When there is purple grazing of wooden template zizzle, when the nonsense is everything and becomes all-consuming even during time of sobriety—what import of what is the mattering of sensibility? When nonsense is God the overthrowing of literary tradition becomes nothing but gateway.
Richard Stallman awaits at gates of heaven. He will scold for the use of wrong license. He will not let us into Heaven. He will bar Hydra and all the boys she sleeps with from. This the this—this is what comes from bad dreams and good writing.
February 17, 2010
are you free this weekend?
ummmmm i can do saturday i think but ima be tired.
aaaanddd i hate to do this. fuck. i hate to do this but if it’s gonna be late, can i like. crash on your couch or something?
why cant you sleep in your bed?
you see, i would. but one of my lovers is having a threesome with two of his lovers in my bed on saturday night.
haha, why dont you join them?
oh no i would, the bed is too small.
ahaha that one was a great imaginary conversation to have during hump day. not to be confused with wednesday. even though thats what i meant…
February 13, 2010
how difficult it must be to turn back and forth from mermaid to human. it must be so painful. the flesh, the scales, the bones turning to fish bones. agony!
January 9, 2010
im always having to import happiness. why is there no joy native to this place?
more importantly, to where am i wandering.