Friday, December 10, 2004

 

Last night I learned that at KPF, I executed what is apparently known as the "Robert-Plant-I'm-a-Little-Teacup" move. It gives me the fear.

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Thursday, December 09, 2004

 

READING ALERT

December 17, at 8 p.m., join me at Drink Me, 6th Street between Avenues B & C, for the release of Novelty Act! Here's Ugly Duckling Presse's current announcement regarding the festivities. And it's also my birthday that day! Calloo, callay!

More info to follow . . .

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Jackson Mac Low has died.

I got to see him read in February, and his was the best reading I've ever been to.

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I've started to have dreams about Horatio the Unicorn.

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Wednesday, December 08, 2004

 

Sam Amadon has a blog. In it, he does not appear to speak of the time that Shafer kept setting him on fire. But he does have a weird picture of himself (I think he was leaning back against something while holding the camera) and it makes him look like a ginormous pro-wrestler! Beware the headlocks and half-nelsons of Sam Amadon!

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Tuesday, December 07, 2004

 

I am happily engaged in writing letters to dead people, secure in the knowledge that they can't argue with anything I say.

Take that, dead people!

And, hey, living people! Why not defend your plane from the spooky aura of Doris Spokes, Queen of the Dead?

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Question: Why doesn't somebody make an Eliot Spitzer action figure? He could come with a little subpoena.

While you're pondering that, check out these two poems by Ada Limon, and this one poem by the kickin' chimera that is Shafer Hall & Jen Knox.

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Monday, December 06, 2004

 

A nameless, thirty-second poemlet:

There are exactly sixteen customs inspectors at the gates of heaven.
But many more than sixteen people die every day,
So it is very easy to sneak things through. The contraband of choice
Depends on what people most think God won't like but
They will. Condoms are a perennial favorite. When the angels
catch you with them, they wag their fingers before
taking the condoms away. Secretly, they're very happy.
They take each whitish, rubbery tube and fill it with rain.
Gathered on heaven's edge after hours, the angels drop them,
laughing. Angels are emotionally stunted like that.

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This weekend was an awesome mix of Huey Lewis, the Dixie Chicks, people switching shoes, many many many glasses of Pepsi, Xmas shopping, video game noise installations, Mexican food, and all I can say, is, whatever you do, don't stop believin'.

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