Man Corn

2002-05-03T14:31:00.000-07:00

Mother's New Patio
It seems to me that when your growing up, especially in your adolescent years, you always think that your own parents are weird and all of your friends' parents are normal. Later in life the truth comes out -everyone's parents are weird. My girlfriend sent me this the today:

"hahhahahahahahhahahhahaha! i just had to share this with you. my mom is so
IRRITATING (not to mention WEIRD)!!! my sister is obviously at the end of
her rope. she isn't exaggerating either--i have received approximately six
or seven emails regarding the god damned new patio. She spends these enormous
amounts of cash on things like this, give us daily updates on them, but
then does something like puts .50 cents into her grand daughter's college fund. I gotone email a couple of weeks ago and the subject header was "concrete." AND
she always signs her emails/letters "Mother" even though both my sister and I
call her 'mom'. IRRITATING!!! Oh Oh!!! *And* my mom always expects us to
respond--let me tell you, it is trouble if you don't respond. How do you
even go about responding with any level of sincerity to an email with the
subject header of "concrete"???"

2002-05-03T14:02:00.000-07:00

Poo Haiku

Awesome! My Poo Haiku was published in the March 2002 issue of Crappers Quarterly last month. It goes like this:

fork in my toilet,
big soft tasty brown morsel,
for you, and for me

Check out Crappers Quarterly here:

2001-08-17T08:21:00.000-07:00

The Real Cleveland Steamer

http://www.arrowreste.com/99web/cleveland/cleveland.htm

2001-07-06T10:50:00.000-07:00

i read dead russion authors, volumes at a time, i write everything down except what's on my mind, cause my greatest fear is that sucking sound, and then i know i'll never get back out, and there's a bone in my hand that connects to a drink, in a crowded room where the glasses clink, and i'll buy you a beer and we'll drink it deep, because that keeps me from falling asleep....

2001-06-29T10:55:00.000-07:00

Cool! A Tax refund
In a few weeks the Bush administration will begin mailing out tax rebate checks to millions of households across the country. To kick it off, they are spending at least 20 million dollars to send us a letter in which Bush takes credit for the refund.

2001-06-19T09:53:00.000-07:00

Really?

I saw this and it made me laugh. It's is a link to a site called "Teen Pop Sucks". They have started a campaign against "teen pop". I couldn't make it passed the first sentence, so as you might gather, I won't be joining this mis-informed campaign:
"For the past two and a half years, the entire world, and America specifically, has been in the throes of the Teenybopper driven world of Pop Music. Whether it's boy bands like the BSB, N Sync, 98 Degrees, C-Note, Hanson, blah, blah, blah....."

First of all, the entire world has been in the throes of teeny bopper driven music since the Beatles played on the Ed Sullivan show. This isn't something that's occurred in the last 2.5 years. This teeny-bopper driven music inlcludes, in chronological order, the Beatles ( atleast the first album), the Jackson 5, Bee gees, Kiss, Journey, Abba, Third Eye Blind, and the last two albums of the Smashing Pumpkins. Yes -the smashin Pumpkins, who the makers of "Teen Pop Sucks" have chosen as there icon. Do i need to remind you of the queer-ass video that won the MTV "video of the year", where the members of the band are all floating around with Mary-fucking-Poppins umbrellas and shit -how gay is that?

Here aresome of the bands that they endorse -I've highlight those bands that could qualify as Teen-Pop are:
"The Beatles, Sloan, Beck, Aimee Mann, Supergrass, Travis, Elliot Smith, Frank Zappa, The Monkees, The Beach Boys, Oasis, Tori Amos, STP, Smashing Pumpkins, The Who, The Clash, The Doors, David Bowie, T Rex, Led Zeppelin, The Mamas and the Papas, Duran Duran, Manic Street Preachers, CSNY, Bob Dylan, John Lennon, Blur, Radiohead, 311, Nancy Boy, Fiona Apple, Jewel, Spacehog, The Cure, Sean Lennon, Cibo Matto, Foo Fighters, Nirvana, REM, Jimi Hendrix, and The Trainspotting Soundtrack."

2001-06-18T12:55:00.000-07:00

Today's my brother-in-law's B-Day. So, I wrote him this b-day song -(I think it's excellent):

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday dear Biotcha
Happy Birthday to you

Happy Birthday to you
you are a gay jew
you eat lot's of Matza
and you smell like brown pooh.

Happy birthday to you
you sniff lot's of glue
You love Kenneth Cole
and you forgot to wipe your B-hole-hole

2001-06-15T11:44:00.000-07:00

Pony Tale
A good freind of mine bar-backs once a week just so he can experience this:
"I was in the bar last night and this chick with long brown hair in a pony tail wanted a drink, she had on a white tube top riding right over her chest, bare shoulders and since her hair was up she looked sharp, so I punched her in the nose and pulled her into the bar. No,no. I talked her up and her name was MARY. Anyway, she was so cool, especially for being so hot, that I just wanted to take her to a church and get hitched up.

Then about ten minutes later it hit me, I realized that she is the same girl that has come into the bar on Thurdsay for like the past four weeks in a row or even longer and I didn't recognize her because her hair was up. I think that was the third time I have met her, but she gets so drunk I think she forgets she has met me before. Her ass is like a brick. "

2001-06-12T11:14:00.000-07:00

Big Chicken Says:
oh, i'm sorry, baby. it's hard for me to do that right now--it doesn't
*empirically* smack of "work." maybe i can in a bit. if i were working on
Man Corn, and someone were watching me from afar--perhaps across the
street, through binoculars--they would be able to deduce, based on their a
posteriori information culled, that I, Big Chicken, was not doing my work
(this is also contingent upon whether the binoculars are powerful enough to
see what is on my **21-inch** monitor). However, it could be said that I,
Big Chicken, am doing actual work, simply because I am *at* work. But how
would they know for sure--they are not me and i do not hear trees falling
in the forest when i'm not there.
oh, i think the mold spores are driving me crazy--look at what I just
wrote!!
Yours Truly,
Big Chicken

2001-06-08T16:23:00.000-07:00

Assorted Haiku

The troubled divide.
bi-coastal separation.
mom used dad's email.

fork in my liver,
big soft tasty brown morsel,
for you, and for me,

Clown suit for a day.
Rubber nose collects the dew,
Won't you honk my horn?

2001-05-25T13:44:00.000-07:00

Who is your inner rockstar??

Mine is Lenny Kravitz.

2001-05-22T10:54:00.000-07:00

Cooking on your Car Engine

How many miles does it take to braise a fish fillet? Should you use your exhaust manifold or your valve cover for a pork tenderloin? Were Jaguars really designed with veal scallopini in mind? Try Manifold Destiny

2001-05-22T10:35:00.000-07:00

THE KING

``Who is this King of Rock-n-Roll? The Lord of Hostess, he is the King of Rock-n-Roll. Shaboom.''

2001-05-17T10:16:00.000-07:00

Nucular Power
I listened to President Bush's Energy Crisis address today. About drilling in the Alaska wilderness - if it's true that we can produce the same amount of fuel as we import from Iraq, that's nice. But his Iraq-reference was scare tacticat pointing out that we are relying on enemies for our oil which may ultimately put us in the position to be Saddamized. I think that even if we can produce 600 million barrels of oil from the Pristine Alaskan Wilderness, we would still import 600 million barrels of oil from Iraq. Don't forget -we are americans and we will consume as much stuff as we can get our hands on, especially if it's cheap.

But, I think that you hippies should look into the details more on the environmental effects of the drilling process itself. Oil drilling technology has come a long way since the olden days. Especially the advent of directional drilling, whereby you can drill into several different resevoirs from one place by directing your drill diagonally, reaching out to oil resevoirs. This prevents having to set up several drill rigs -you can do it all from one spot. I'm not convinced that the drilling it's self will harm the Pristine Alaskan Wilderness that much, but i think that the availibility of cheap oil will hurt the planet and prevent the development of new energy sources.

As a side note, they mentioned that the hippies dumped several tons of coal in Dick Chaney's driveway - that's a good one.

What stood out most in the adress though was Gearge W.'s pronunciation of 'nucular' . Unless he was talking about some new- cular energy source, the word NUCLEAR is pronounced 'new-Klee-are', not 'new-Cue-lar', God Bless the United States of America.

2001-05-17T06:49:00.000-07:00

Fossil Fuel

Electricity and gasoline prices are skyrocketing and energy companies
are taking record profits. What's the Cheney response? More goodies
for energy tycoons.

Instead of challenging monopolies run amok, Cheney has come up with an
innovative three point plan: rape, burn and pillage. Rape the
environment. Burn fossil fuels 'til we choke. Pillage the consumer's
pocket book.

Speak out against this gift to the administration's oil buddies. Go to:

http://www.moveon.org/stopcheney/

2001-05-16T10:35:00.000-07:00

Mr. Eternity

Strong clocks keep time at bay
as the end creeps closer every day.

Plastic surgery won’t postpone
that moment when we are alone.

Time smiles to see us try
to hide from age before we die.

ETERNITY the old man wrote
with chalk he kept inside his coat.

All over Sydney he chalked reminders
that death will take us as it finds us.

Mr ETERNITY, Arthur Stace,
inscribed in every public place.

2001-05-15T16:55:00.000-07:00

A is for Amy Who Fell Down the Stairs

2001-05-15T14:28:00.000-07:00

Another Man Corn Dream
On the way to the office this morning I saw a pickup truck with big cardboard boxes in the back that had "Fresh Tuna" written on them. And I started wonder - can you haul fresh tuna around in a cardboard box without it going bad? Maybe the guy was coming from a warehouse and making a short trip to some restaurant. But even so, the fish must be packed in some kind of ice, maybe between slabs of dry-ice. And I began to wonder about how much tuna you could fit in each of the boxes along with the dry-ice. I thought about it so hard that I began to imagine red slabs of flesh in a dark cold cardboard box. And just then I remembered that I had a Man Corn dream last night.

The details of the dream are not clear in my mind, accept that I was biting into partially cooked appendages of red meat that would pour out blood whenever I bit into it. The blood would ooze out like the white yogurt sauce in a falafel wrap. And the appendages of meat were inspired by my reading of Man Corn before I went out. Specifically, I was looking at pictures of musical instuments and weapons the Aztecs made out of the long bones, arms and legs, of there victims.

2001-05-10T11:01:00.000-07:00

not home

'Can't see the splintered paint
on the front door,
pitted from dog claws and
mud-wracked boots' impatience.

'Can't hear their voices;
these miles are droning
witlings' conversations,
low-pitched with my yearning.

The teeth of midnight are pale
under raised grim lips.
It is a grimace of deviation;
I am not home.

2001-05-04T16:34:00.000-07:00

Miss Fruit Salad

Let me say this backwards. Last night I got out of the cab in front of Swensons. As some know, the Swenson's that I currently live near is the very first Swenson's ever. However, the first Swneson's in my life was the franchise version of Swenson's, of which there was one across the street from the University of Miami. It was next to Specs records across US 1 in Coral Gables. It was three blocks from my fraternity house, the one I lived in for 4 of my 5 undergraduate years. And the UM baseball field is just one block from that Swenson's.

When I was on my highschool varsity basebal time, back in Little Falls NY, we used to use a trick play that was invented by the UM baseball team, or that's where my coach got the idea. The play went like this -if there's a runner on first base, the picher would step off of the the rubber and fake the throw to first base (like he was trying to pick him of). The runner dives back into first base and the first baseman pretends the ball was over thrown and runs like he's chasing the ball out of bounds. Then the ingnorant runner would start going to second base. But to the runner's suprise, the pitcher would still be holding the ball. Then the runner is in a run-down between first and second base, and totally screwed. This play actually worked more than once while I was on the team.

Back in Miami at this time of year, the summer evening thunderstorms would start to return. I remember the smell of ozone mixed with the steam coming off of the hot pavement. It's an east coast smell -we would get it in New York, too, in July and August. I was doing a gig in Ft. lauderdale during spring break. I remember that smell. And it was still drizzling a little as we carried our equipment into the bar called the Elbo Room. Sometimes when I smell that smell, I think of summer nights in Coconut Grove, after the rain stops and all the cuban punks cruise Grand Ave cranking their subwoofers. Some would fall prey to the motorcyle cops who were handing out noise pollution citations. And who could forget all of the barely legal cuban chicks in their crotch-high little hooker skirts, the same skirts I make my girlfriend where when we play dress-up in the rumpus room. Ahh, there's nothing like the smell of a steamy summer thunder storm.

2001-05-04T10:12:00.000-07:00

Shoddery Barn "Retro" Collection Place Mats $9.99 ea.

Do you live in a trailer? Like to find some place settings that complement
your fly swatter and ash trays? Then these are the place mats for you!
Nondurable, polyurethane nicotiene-colored plastic is decorated--if you can
call it that--with vaguely pink "flowers." Guaranteed to go up in flames in
seconds the next time your alcoholic, abusive boyfriend falls asleep with a
butt in his hand. Ugly-ass matching napkins sold separately.

2001-04-30T15:22:00.000-07:00

Haiku for the Workplace

brown nosed all day long
creativity strangled
nothin' else sucks more

Cor'-'prut-Tic-Tac-Toe
action item matrix, Bitch!
smell my finger now

swimming in jargon
the cubicle that I love
man-pasta dinners

2001-04-30T08:57:00.000-07:00

dert

2001-04-20T06:37:00.000-07:00

fluid~

a yellow ribbon holding a slice of quicksilver,
a race; speed slowly and hurry to wait. and shed.

i and i experience all her intent ~ gestures she held in hand yesterday, sent to me.
now in my confidence room that i own for a handful of moments,
millions of pinpricks scattering onwards and upwards, escaping across my face like bubbles open-eyed underwater
then upward, poking through the galaxies indigo-black skin,
she intones and resounds in a clear meander,
curving elegance her red vessel floats on downstream.

shed and shed.

the sound of my voice dances the lightning waltz of her scarlet word,
carefully measuring every nuance of tempered, waivering, and heated friendship
and love tones. memories of crossing starry skies without boundaries
captured in the aural present ~ vocal chords and i
slip fluidly into hope for our universe to grow together.

i and i juxtapose with purpose and conviction and the
mercurial drops flow that i and i shed

and shed.

this brilliant flash that's held to the light stands alone unique and bright
as if to request to respond; to answer the questions i've held deep at night,
for her i let go, so that i may hold her tight.

she held the four and six to the wind shedding herself of what is renewable,
a freely written list of colours she has written on the back of a simple white package.
she's negotiated the play of word and meaning and image amazingly,
here and inside pervading everything that she's touched.
and i say: 'show me, my love, what else you are capable of'.
and she does, once and again,
each time the mason, building stone by stone a fortress
of solidity, commodity, and delight.

my words sometimes become her words, hers somtimes mine. intertwined,
sometimes, but always touching. she as queen midas has touched my face in her own image.
a dusty stone rosette has disappeared into i and i to become
swallowed whole, and the yellow-gold flecked translations can flow again

and shed.

2001-04-19T09:42:00.000-07:00

Mother's New Patio
It seems to me that when your growing up, especially in your adolescent years, you always think that your own parents are weird and all of your friends' parents are normal. Later in life the truth comes out -everyone's parents are weird. My girlfriend sent me this the today:

"hahhahahahahahhahahhahaha! i just had to share this with you. my mom is so
IRRITATING (not to mention WEIRD)!!! my sister is obviously at the end of
her rope. she isn't exaggerating either--i have received approximately six
or seven emails regarding the god damned new patio. She spends these enormous
amounts of cash on things like this, give us daily updates on them, but
then does something like puts .50 cents into her grand daughter's college fund. I got
one email a couple of weeks ago and the subject header was "concrete." AND
she always signs her emails/letters "Mother" even though both my sister and I
call her 'mom'. IRRITATING!!! Oh Oh!!! *And* my mom always expects us to
respond--let me tell you, it is trouble if you don't respond. How do you
even go about responding with any level of sincerity to an email with the
subject header of "concrete"???"

2001-04-17T10:45:00.000-07:00

Simple
Kyle Gann wrote this good stuff:
"There is nothing wrong with simplicity. It is easier to write complicated music than simple music; Beethoven's sketchbooks show how hard he struggled to achieve simplicity. It occasionally happens that profound music is difficult to understand, but it does not follow from this that music that is difficult to understand is therefore profound. Most difficult-to-understand music is simply unclear. The value of music is not proportional to the quantity or intricacy of its technical apparatus. Like many great composers throughout the ages, Mozart believed in an "artless art" in which the effort of composing is hidden beneath an effortless surface; this is as it should be. The audience wants to be delighted, inspired, entertained, not reassured that the composer is highly educated and worked hard. There is nothing wrong with occasionally writing an ostentatiously technical piece for the delectation of one's colleagues, but to do nothing but that is to pretend that composers have no obligation to society, and by extension that neither do doctors, politicians, generals, or any other profession. A piece of music is not good just because it is popular, nor is it bad just because it is popular. The music profession has many incentives to bestow fame and honor on certain of its members; the quality of their music is only one of those incentives and never an essential one." click here for more Kyle Gann - he's a composer and a writer for the Village Voice

2001-04-16T17:10:00.000-07:00

Trinity

The Antadon Starfish is like other starfish in that it has
five arms, but its distinguishing characteristic is its long,
flowing arms that resemble those of a plant more than an animal.

Class Asteroidea, phylum Echinodermata

I learned this prehistoric science through an
incongruous voice, all the way down on 16th Street,
just outside of Esta Noche. This must have been the
first time in history that these two things became merged,
fixed in their own firmament like a newly discovered star
that's still unnamed.

They became one thing--a somewhat holy statement--the
trinity its representative, the sea its sustenance. I couldn't
fathom the conjunction of these two things, just as you
couldn't believe the world around you. Trinity. Duality.
And then one.

2001-04-16T15:24:00.000-07:00

Interstate 5 Travel Haiku

Water flows, food grows,
Buttonwillow McKittrick-
The land of the free.

Oasis of meat,
concentration camps for cows,
"Medium rare, please."

Smashed on the windshield,
rainbow of smeared insects,
paints for our journey.

2001-04-11T11:44:00.000-07:00

Shoddery Barn

i think it is the fact that i work for god damned Shoddery Barn (as Dan
would say)--the worst internet/email/computer setup i've ever had. i still
can't get into it. i'll try in a little while, maybe there will have abeen
an upgrade in the IT department by then--also, ALSO--the Shift keys on my
keyboard work only inconsistently. (Can you tell i'm kind of grouchy
today??) here was the dialog with myself and the rest of the world on my
way to work:

1. Listen pal, it's a good idea to keep looking *straight ahead* when
you're going around a corner.
2. If you can't walk in a straight line, stay at home.
3. Stay in your lane!!!!
4. Do you have an endless supply of TIME!!???
5. Do you have ANY peripheral vision??
6. If you think you can jay walk and then cut right in front of me, you are
SORELY mistaken.

Have you seen the front entrance of Macy's???? There is a giant Jesus on
it! It's supposed to be a replica of that statue in Brazil, but what it
looks like is a huge mistake that someone is probably going to get fired
for. They wouldn't have, for instance, put up a giant Star of David or a
statue of Allah (what does Allah look like anyway--has anyone ever seen
him?) or something. You've gotta see it.

first excreted by Big Chicken, then...

2001-04-10T12:31:00.000-07:00

Laser Eye Surgery
Big Chicken: holy criminy! for the clockwork orange eye procedure it's $3900! i thought it was around $1500.

Endoplasmic: I think it's funny how they advertise using price per eye -you probably heard that it was $1500 per eye -like anyone's going to get just one eye done.

2001-04-06T14:33:00.000-07:00

LITTLE FALLS

This is where I'm from. My father painted this. The Mohawk River gave birth to my town. The Erie Canal was built off of the river, and the little falls that my town was named for, were just big enough to make Little Falls a resting place for the canal boats and mules that pulled them. It was here that the boats had to go through a series of lift locks to get around the falls. It was the gateway to the West -that's when the West was Ohio.

2001-04-06T10:39:00.000-07:00

The Watermelon Patch

On the way to work on this drizzly morning, I heard a guy talking about the "US reconnaisance plane in China" crisis. This guy is some expert on China stuff, he's a proffessor who goes to china and teaches about it - I think he might be some kind of law professor. He was making an interesting point that our cultural differences are playing a big part in how each side views the crisis. Americans view laws as limits that tell you how far you can go; as long as we don't cross the line, we maintain our virtue. On the other hand, Chinese culture views laws as boundries established to maintain virtue in society. A virtuous person stays as far away from these boundaries as possible; the closer you come to these boundaries, the less virtuous you are. And so, the chinese view our cruising their coast ,as close as possible without breaking international law, as a dishonorable act.

He also used a great analogy describe the importance of the perception of our acts. " When I was a child my father once told me ' never tie your shoe in a watermelon patch' ". If someone sees you tie your shoe in a watermelon patch, they might think that you're stealing a melon. In this latest crisis, China caught us tying our shoes in their watermelon patch and there's a melon missing.

Here's an excerpt from a 1895 Racist Song ,
"Climb De Golden Fence"
I wish I was a little black coon once mo'
Yes I does, 'deed I does,
A gettin' into mischief an' follin' on de flo'
Yes I does, 'deed I does,
I eat up all de melons, in de watermelon patch,
Mammy chase me down de old cross road,
I allus feared de debil dis chile was gwine to catch,
Break my back, wid a boa'd.....

Click here for more

2001-04-05T08:57:00.000-07:00

night sky
check out the nile. and the difference between north and south korea. and israel compared to its neighboring countries.

2001-04-05T08:56:00.000-07:00

ends will justify the means
cornbread, collared greens

(thanks aj)

2001-04-02T09:32:00.000-07:00

a day

when i wake i find myself standing in blinking-tired
that's not sleep but craves it, and i walk around
my house putting myself together as though i'd
been broken by the day before, but that's not so.
What i notice is Joan Didion's light (she and I agree on this,
though I felt it first every time I drove south, through the
Central Valley, smelling the newly turned earth, making everyone else's lives palpable in the air itself--i knew just how they lived. The earth directly effects
our perception of the sky.) and i say:
i-can-take-on-the-world.
Then i'm home again.

2001-03-30T16:27:00.000-08:00

Oh my god!

2001-03-30T16:19:00.000-08:00

skiing out of context
i was with three other people--two guys and a girl--and we were going on a ski trip, but it wasn't ordinary skiing!!! no, the skis were these super long peices of wood and you'd put them on and then you would get into an airplane and it would take you up and then you'd jump out and the skis were like wings so you'd just coast along in the air for a while until you got to the landing ramp that you'd ski down to get back to the ground.The landing ramp had a grass surface. We were all getting ready and someone had told me that I didn't need boots for these kind of skis, so i didn't bring any. everyone else had their boots. So I couldn't go skiing! so i stayed at the ski place while everyone else went skiing without me. And at the place there was this little lodge that was run by nuns. and next to the counter was a large, round pink plastic thing with a hole in the top and on the side was written 'Skates". so I went up to the nun in the booth and asked if there was an ice rink and she said yes and so i rented skates.

I went up to the pink thing to look inside for my size of skates. when I found my size i took them out and started to put them on and when I did, I realized that they were...hockey skates!!! i was so excited because that would mean that i could go super fast around the rink. And I skated while everyonelse was skiing in the sky.

And so THEN, i went home and there was a message on my machine. It was from some guy i didn't know and he was calling from Argentina and he said that he wanted me to audition for a video and that he wanted me to play the charango. So i called him back and he acted like he'd never called me and had no idea what i was talking about.

2001-03-30T11:05:00.000-08:00

Moving Forward
The deep parts of my life pour onward,
as if the river shores were opening out.
It seems that things are more like me now,
That I can see farther into paintings.
I feel closer to what language can't reach.
With my senses, as with birds, I climb
into the windy heaven, out of the oak,
in the ponds broken off from the sky
my falling sinks, as if standing on fishes.

2001-03-29T16:00:00.000-08:00

Dick Taters

You know, ...this isn't really very funny.

2001-03-27T16:02:00.000-08:00

Phone 1-866-477-9246 (toll free). Just do it.

2001-03-27T03:17:00.000-08:00

Math Class: Some Numbers to Ponder
3rd inning in Little League: this kid strikes out, hates himself and curses while moping back to the dugout. Next time he's up, he thinks a curveball headed towards him is going to bounce off his head, but figures if he swings like a gorilla in heat he'll at least look like he was trying do something crucial for the team. Nope. He hit a double as the ball miraculously curves into the strike zone and strikes his bat as he swings maniacally into the wide open. Crowd cheers just a smattering rain of approval, but that's ok as he can hear his dad going completely nuts. From my viewpoint, it was a pretty intense solo aria.

After the game, our hero saunters up to the snack bar, and while ordering a half blueberry, half strawberry snow-cone proudly tells the girl behind the counter that "half his hits were doubles". I'm 7 years old like him, standing in line, thinking this is the funniest thing I've ever heard. 2 years after we learned long division, he's already using math trickery to impress women.

Exactly 9 years later they got married, and 1 year after that they got divorced. It's been 10 years since then and I'm sure he's still kicking himself for introducing her to the concept of "half" at such an early age.

It's kind of out of the way, but I like to visit the 7-11 he works at just for kicks.

2001-03-23T16:39:00.000-08:00

The variety of foreign bodies which have found their way into the rectum is hardly less remarkable than the ingenuity displayed in their removal. A turnip has been delivered per anum by the use of obstetric forceps. A stick firmly impacted has been withdrawn by inserting a gimlet into its lower end. A tumbler, mouth looking downwards, has been extracted by filling the interior with a wet plaster of Paris bandage, leaving the end of the bandage protruding, and allowing the plaster to set. (O. Lloyd-Davies, 1905-87, Consultant Surgeon, St. Mark's Hospital, London)

(a) Pepper pot in the rectum. On removal it was found to be inscribed 'A present from Margate' (Dr. L.S. Carstairs, Royal Northern Hospital, London.)

2001-03-23T14:01:00.000-08:00

Can You Here Me- You Non-Organelle?!!!
Oh sure, you probably think that I am just some ordinary soft organelle made up of interconnected tubules, vesicles and sacs. Well I have news for you. Can you say protein synthesis? Can you say sequestration of calcium, production of steroids, storage and production of glycogen, and insertion of membrane proteins? You probably can't!
So listen to me now, and fix it in your brain.
Yes LISTEN, pole-torker, for I am ENDOPLASMIC RETICULUM. Without me you are nothing but a sessile prokaryote!

2001-03-22T13:58:00.000-08:00

man corn dream

i was with someone, i don't know who, and it was like we were camping--we
were outside and it was night and we laid down to sleep and this thing--i
don't know if it was a person or a monster type thing--was with us and it
would lay down on top of us each time we went to sleep and when it did so
it would die. then we would take it to this lab-type place and we did a
kind of autopsy thing on it. And we had all of the blood samples from all
our other people we collected and autopsied; the blood samples were just
blood smeared on a piece of paper. and the lab place smelled of viscera and
blood. and there was some other sinister kind of doctor at the lab place
who knew us and ostensibly worked with us, but seemed always to be
threatening us. and about all of this autopsy stuff there was this tacit
knowledge of cannibalism that permeated the whole dream. so anyway, then
there was this other scene--it was in a sort of airport-looking place--it
had super high ceilings and those flat escalator/conveyor belt things for
people and there was this girl there who i knew and she was so thin and
then i talked to someone else who knew her and found out that she was
anorexic. somehow this was scary because it had to do with the body and
flesh and lack thereof and eating away at a person and emaciation (word?)
and symbolized just the horror of eating a person. and then in my dream i
was thinking about how close we are to actually eating people because we
eat cows and other animals and what is really the difference? And i have
met people who I would definitely say have personas as riveting as those of
cows and people with brains the size of those of chickens. so, i really
did not feel like ever eating meat again after the dream.

2001-03-22T13:13:00.000-08:00

The Fisherman

And she holds these pieces of broken stone in her hand.
But I know, for sure, that some will fall to her feet.
The chilling sunburn- it gives and takes,
as the little one builds with pieces of me.
Soft skin fries,
turned to hide,
as his fortress is drowned by the moon.

The things they miss, flow beneath the bridge,
and the river laughs as he passes through my net.
A blind man's eyes can drink no pain,
as he rows on through the border land.
The gate that waits,
will wake the saints,
for a fisherman drowned in the sand.

Now, I stand outside.
The strained bell moans.
Wading here,
brings me home.
It rings a child that grieves,
his soft skin flies,
turned to hide.

The grace he speaks.
The falling tree.
He waves at me, he waves at me,
as the seedlings of eternity,
fly on,
fly on,
love is gone.

2001-03-19T09:57:00.000-08:00

2001-03-16T16:52:00.000-08:00

Mas Man Corn Por Favor

And the Macah Tribe gets back to it’s roots. Click here!

2001-03-16T06:36:00.000-08:00

Alexa

alexa
from texa
a shame that
i havent mex ya

a student
of rudent
my mom says
i shouldnt dudent.

ms. riggs
i diggs
the movement of
irish jiggs

and tommora
ill folla
the green clove
of marimora

decline
to sign
the grovsent
dottent line

so alexa
i bex ya
that i be
more than grexa

2001-03-16T06:28:00.000-08:00

2 Quotes

"Breasts are like fingerprints. They are never the same from person to person."

"As a poet uses common words to create beauty an architect uses common materials to do the same."

2001-03-15T14:16:00.000-08:00

Love Letter to Mr. Meter Maid

I beg you to reconsider the issuance of this $275 parking ticket (Citation # 51068006). My reason for being temporarily parked in Hastings Alley was that I was unloading equipment following a performance. I have the misfortune of living in a neighborhood that has absolutely no loading zones or parking spaces after 6:00 pm. Additionally, I cannot even temporarily double-park near my residence because of the Hyde Street Cable Car. Furthermore, I was pulled well onto the alley and was not within 3 feet of the handicap ramp, so I am surprised that I would get such a hefty penalty.

Furthermore, although the officer's car was nearby, he gave no indication that he was writing a ticket for my vehicle. Had I known, I would have liked the opportunity to discuss it with him. By no means did I run from the officer.

I do my best to follow the parking rules--including updating my parking permit regularly--but as you know, in Russian Hill especially, there is a severe shortage of parking spaces.

I implore you to dismiss this ticket based on the fact that I was only temporarily stopped in that location, and because, in my financial situation, I cannot afford a $275 ticket. If you cannot dismiss it, please reduce the penalty to a more affordable amount.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Endoplasmic Reticulum

2001-03-15T11:32:00.000-08:00

Blow Me Bowie

David Bowie's avarice fucked up my computer! certain of his cds
automatically download some kind of promotional crap onto your machine and
it crashes my computer every time; and if it doesn't crash my computer it
does something weird to the audio thingie. i like him, but he's gotten so
money grubbing in his old age. isn't that obnoxious? my Nunzilla cd doesn't do
that.

2001-03-15T05:20:00.000-08:00

moon shine
you were there
for an illusive moment
right before sleep
turning to put out the light
eye drawn through the undressed window
where cotton clouds danced,
translucently.

the glowing night globe full
my room and heart overflowing
i thought it was you
saying good night.

2001-03-14T13:35:00.000-08:00

Endoplasmically Reticulous

Here's a funny review I posted on Amazon.com for Paul Brill's new CD:

"There are no words to describe the originallity of Paul Brill's musical style so i had to come up with new ones: Endoplasmically Reticulous. People from the San Francisco Bay Area are already familiar with Brill's
songwriting genius. But with this release he shows his prowess as a complete musician and producer. Each song is carefully crafted with subtle yet sufficiently complex arranging. It features the some of the hottest
bluegrass/counrty players in the "Downtown" scene of Manhattan, and as one might expect, the playing is outrageous. Upon first listen the song forms are constructed with familiar building blocks of the folk and bluegrass idioms, but upon closer review, each block plays host to an ornamented symphony of Beethovian proportion. I highly recommend this CD."

Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.

2001-03-14T10:03:00.000-08:00

Braincase

With the puzzled sky and broken sea,
poised to crush the old rooftree,
there's no telling what the man can see,
as the poison sets him free.
A desert or a flowered grave,
Why would you force that trade?
"They said my god could save!"

Braincase wasted,
no way to shape hard clay.

2001-03-13T15:58:00.000-08:00

When
I think
of taxis,
I think of:
exhaust
holiday's
travelling
traffic jams
honking horns
going out drinking
going to the airport
gondolas in venice
the poor mans chauffeur
gestation in a vinyl womb
yellow and black -a bumble bee
splitting the fare with my friends
my suit en route to a business meeting
your head in my lap as we leave the ballet

2001-03-13T15:05:00.000-08:00

Clean Shit of Papel

I wouldn't mind having a clean shit of paper right now. I've been here for almost two weeks, I've done absolutely nothing, but somehow I've managed to stay busy for the entire time. Unknowingly, I continue to learn who I am, sitting here for countless hours, not reading, not speaking, even refusing to play my guitar. It's difficult to act as a character that you perceive yourself to be, and it's even harder to play a part that others have given you. I'm not completely a gaucho, and it's difficult to act that way. I miss home, but at the same time I've forgotten what it's like there -so how can I miss it? I have to dig deep to remember. All I know is that it's not that great here and I hope to equillibrate very soon.

This is the endless circle of compelling nonsense called Man Corn - the dialogue that consumes itself. Welcome.