Our Suburban Sprawl
Living life every, every minute is not what it’s cracked up to be
Sometimes you get a kick out of a song on the radio
Or witness a surprise move in an extreme fighting tournament
But a lot of the time you’re thinking, I’m trapped,trapped, trapped
Or you pass by slums with a pronounced feeling of not belonging
and cry like an old biddy at a wedding when love fills your heart
To do life, no fudging, deal with the crux?
Sentient being is for the birds
Instead make life one big, empty action sequence,
cultivate self-ignorance,
treat other living things like props
increase your web presence,
mythologize your experiences and generate hype about your achievements,
make up apocryphal stories about how it all went down
and generally blow smoke up your own ass
Follow your piss, like Joseph Campbell said
It’s running down the hill on the side of the road
Shining in the terrible moonlight
Gawd,the stars in the desert are beautiful
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
Sunday, September 07, 2003
Wednesday, September 03, 2003
Kittens. Kittens who need mittens...are the luckiest kittens in the world.
After this horrible flu, I'm finally up to blogging. I think I am de-toxing from years of the 'trieve (That is, I'm quitting my full time job at a company that became poisonous two or three years ago when it was sold piece by piece and management was taken over by weird, contaminated devil-robots).
I think I was also completely immobilized over the weekend because Gawd wanted me to watch the entire Jerry Lewis telethon. They've really gotta update the talent that performs on this thing. It's nice to see Don Rickles though. After all these years, he's finally funny to me. Jerry Lewis oughtta start grooming Jim Carrey or somebody to replace him. Not sure how much longer he's going to be around. There was one girl who was diagnosed with Friederich's Ataxia at around age ten (I'm very suspicious of this diagnosis because she was diagnosed in one day and I think genetic testing is required to make such a diagnosis.Maybe the facts weren't presented correctly) As this kid grew older, the ataxia miraculously disappeared and she's a totally healthy teenager now.The National ambassador for MDA was a delightful kid with mitochondrial myopathy named Mattie. What if aliens from inner space live in our mitochondria and are fucking things up with pollution like we are doing to the earth? The Whos down in Whoville need to get they ass kicked.
I also had a very exciting couple of days watching Crossing Over with John Edwards. Unless the people in the audience are total plants, I think this shit is for real.As you may be aware, Mun Mun herself has had visitations. I wonder if he can communicate with dead dinosaurs if he sits with a can of penzoil though. Or do you need to be a sentient being?
You know, no one ever talks about or gives the advice of "Slow and steady wins the race" nowadays, but I can tell you for a fact that a runaway tortoise can be a speedy, little bugger. They cover a lot more ground than you'd expect.
I need more cream of wheat. Fuck. I just realized I shoulda taken my antibiotics 3 hours ago. I blame you.
After this horrible flu, I'm finally up to blogging. I think I am de-toxing from years of the 'trieve (That is, I'm quitting my full time job at a company that became poisonous two or three years ago when it was sold piece by piece and management was taken over by weird, contaminated devil-robots).
I think I was also completely immobilized over the weekend because Gawd wanted me to watch the entire Jerry Lewis telethon. They've really gotta update the talent that performs on this thing. It's nice to see Don Rickles though. After all these years, he's finally funny to me. Jerry Lewis oughtta start grooming Jim Carrey or somebody to replace him. Not sure how much longer he's going to be around. There was one girl who was diagnosed with Friederich's Ataxia at around age ten (I'm very suspicious of this diagnosis because she was diagnosed in one day and I think genetic testing is required to make such a diagnosis.Maybe the facts weren't presented correctly) As this kid grew older, the ataxia miraculously disappeared and she's a totally healthy teenager now.The National ambassador for MDA was a delightful kid with mitochondrial myopathy named Mattie. What if aliens from inner space live in our mitochondria and are fucking things up with pollution like we are doing to the earth? The Whos down in Whoville need to get they ass kicked.
I also had a very exciting couple of days watching Crossing Over with John Edwards. Unless the people in the audience are total plants, I think this shit is for real.As you may be aware, Mun Mun herself has had visitations. I wonder if he can communicate with dead dinosaurs if he sits with a can of penzoil though. Or do you need to be a sentient being?
You know, no one ever talks about or gives the advice of "Slow and steady wins the race" nowadays, but I can tell you for a fact that a runaway tortoise can be a speedy, little bugger. They cover a lot more ground than you'd expect.
I need more cream of wheat. Fuck. I just realized I shoulda taken my antibiotics 3 hours ago. I blame you.
Saturday, August 16, 2003
Nawlins I
Mishlin and Luis live in a magenta house filled with masks, fetishes, and velvet drapes. They run a witchcraft mail order business and a bed and breakfast that Darcy found through a book called "New Orleans Voodoo Tarot." It was hard to find. Street signs are missing because, according to Luis, criminals take them down at crime scenes with hopes the police won't find them. Mishlin wants other pagans to start B&B's so they can network.
Purchased some pecan pralines as a souvenier for Margaret.
Saw numerous Uncle Tom & Mammy salt and pepper shakers. Why didn't I buy them?
"Yes we remove hexes" In window of voodoo novelty shop.
At the statue of Louis Armstrong in the park, the sculpted mouth-piece of the trumpet is missing. Ripped off. At least I think it was a trumpet. I never could tell the difference between a trumpet and a coronet.
Darcy meditates to the tarot cards. I always thought of Tarot cards (and all methods of fortune telling) as fun & games, so this is the first use for them that makes any remote sense to me. When she first tried to meditate she tried to empty her mind, but that doesn’t work anymore so she just lets the thoughts flow.
After Mockingbird swamp tours, read article on the wall about a man who fought an alligator under his house. When he knocked on his neighbor's door, he was bloody from head to toe and had to get 200 stitches.
At the bar, a couple who had a son who died at 17. Drowned. They are wrecked.
Don't know why, but I'm wrecked too. Only there’s no corpse to show for it. Unless you count the bodies that litter my dreams. All murdered. The kicker is it always turns out I'm the murderer.
I can't stand up straight. Try to meditate to the Jungian archetype tarot cards. Try to meditate to the meaningless hoax.
Eating Margaret's pralines.
NAWLINS II
It's weird to be in a place where you are the one with the accent.
"You're from Los Angeles? I got a brother in San Diego."
Dragon flies are mosquito hawks here.
The calliope on the steam boat is playing "Deep In the Heart of Texas," and "Alabamy Bound." On the radio, songs mentioning Louisiana, New Orleans, and the Bayou keep playing.
"Love Potion Number Nine," "Brown Sugar." Songs I never noticed had anything to do with New Orleans before.
Talked to a woman from Florida in Preservation Hall who survived Hurricane Andrew. The eye of the hurricane lasted 20 minutes.
Apparently some people think when the eye comes, the storm is over, so when they walk out of their houses they get swept up and away. The wood from her carport was never found. They found pink siding in her yard and no one in the neighborhood has pink siding.
On his break the jazz bassist pets a stray cat. "I'm playing him," he says, "You can tell from the way the tail's moving."
Outside a street musician is cleaning his mouth piece,"You got to practice safe sax!"
Down further is a rasta clown with a red nose and corn rows.
More novelties.
NAWLINS III
We check out the the Piazza d’Italia by architect Charles Moore, built for a World’s Fair here that went bankrupt. It’s in shambles. A place for homeless to sleep. Fountains clogged, tiles broken, neon turned off. Card board boxes on steps along with Chapter 11 bankruptcy manuals strewn about.
A group of men in polo shirts walks up just as we do. "…This is probably only of interest to architecture students now."
They are building an aquarium in Denver and came to look at the Aquarium of the Americas. To see its problems. Since they are in the area they dropped by to see the Moore work as well.
Charles Moore designed the Beverly Hills civic center and I’ve heard grumblings about the interiors. The librarians and civil servants say it’s drafty and surprisingly cheapo. Just like this.
Mishlin and Luis live in a magenta house filled with masks, fetishes, and velvet drapes. They run a witchcraft mail order business and a bed and breakfast that Darcy found through a book called "New Orleans Voodoo Tarot." It was hard to find. Street signs are missing because, according to Luis, criminals take them down at crime scenes with hopes the police won't find them. Mishlin wants other pagans to start B&B's so they can network.
Purchased some pecan pralines as a souvenier for Margaret.
Saw numerous Uncle Tom & Mammy salt and pepper shakers. Why didn't I buy them?
"Yes we remove hexes" In window of voodoo novelty shop.
At the statue of Louis Armstrong in the park, the sculpted mouth-piece of the trumpet is missing. Ripped off. At least I think it was a trumpet. I never could tell the difference between a trumpet and a coronet.
Darcy meditates to the tarot cards. I always thought of Tarot cards (and all methods of fortune telling) as fun & games, so this is the first use for them that makes any remote sense to me. When she first tried to meditate she tried to empty her mind, but that doesn’t work anymore so she just lets the thoughts flow.
After Mockingbird swamp tours, read article on the wall about a man who fought an alligator under his house. When he knocked on his neighbor's door, he was bloody from head to toe and had to get 200 stitches.
At the bar, a couple who had a son who died at 17. Drowned. They are wrecked.
Don't know why, but I'm wrecked too. Only there’s no corpse to show for it. Unless you count the bodies that litter my dreams. All murdered. The kicker is it always turns out I'm the murderer.
I can't stand up straight. Try to meditate to the Jungian archetype tarot cards. Try to meditate to the meaningless hoax.
Eating Margaret's pralines.
NAWLINS II
It's weird to be in a place where you are the one with the accent.
"You're from Los Angeles? I got a brother in San Diego."
Dragon flies are mosquito hawks here.
The calliope on the steam boat is playing "Deep In the Heart of Texas," and "Alabamy Bound." On the radio, songs mentioning Louisiana, New Orleans, and the Bayou keep playing.
"Love Potion Number Nine," "Brown Sugar." Songs I never noticed had anything to do with New Orleans before.
Talked to a woman from Florida in Preservation Hall who survived Hurricane Andrew. The eye of the hurricane lasted 20 minutes.
Apparently some people think when the eye comes, the storm is over, so when they walk out of their houses they get swept up and away. The wood from her carport was never found. They found pink siding in her yard and no one in the neighborhood has pink siding.
On his break the jazz bassist pets a stray cat. "I'm playing him," he says, "You can tell from the way the tail's moving."
Outside a street musician is cleaning his mouth piece,"You got to practice safe sax!"
Down further is a rasta clown with a red nose and corn rows.
More novelties.
NAWLINS III
We check out the the Piazza d’Italia by architect Charles Moore, built for a World’s Fair here that went bankrupt. It’s in shambles. A place for homeless to sleep. Fountains clogged, tiles broken, neon turned off. Card board boxes on steps along with Chapter 11 bankruptcy manuals strewn about.
A group of men in polo shirts walks up just as we do. "…This is probably only of interest to architecture students now."
They are building an aquarium in Denver and came to look at the Aquarium of the Americas. To see its problems. Since they are in the area they dropped by to see the Moore work as well.
Charles Moore designed the Beverly Hills civic center and I’ve heard grumblings about the interiors. The librarians and civil servants say it’s drafty and surprisingly cheapo. Just like this.
Friday, August 15, 2003
Thursday, August 14, 2003
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
Dog Days
The house is settling
along with Fritzie's ear upon my cheek
She doesn't want food from me
She's just sleeping
Once in a while I check to see if she's breathing
It's always hard to latch the doors this time of year
They droop in the heat
So, nothing stops Fritzie from bursting
through my door at six thirty.
to announce another morning
has arrived
My feet feel the bathroom floor tiles swelling
I watch the fuschias wilting in the window box and
notice Jesus Christ's face in a stain in the marble near my toe
The gardeners rake the cement outside
It's the kind of day that makes you think nothing will change
The house is settling
along with Fritzie's ear upon my cheek
She doesn't want food from me
She's just sleeping
Once in a while I check to see if she's breathing
It's always hard to latch the doors this time of year
They droop in the heat
So, nothing stops Fritzie from bursting
through my door at six thirty.
to announce another morning
has arrived
My feet feel the bathroom floor tiles swelling
I watch the fuschias wilting in the window box and
notice Jesus Christ's face in a stain in the marble near my toe
The gardeners rake the cement outside
It's the kind of day that makes you think nothing will change
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