Tuesday, July 31, 2007

bright eyes + sean hannity

i was listening to sean hannity on the radio yesterday because i felt like being pissed off and they used the beginning of the bright eyes song "four winds" as one of those music segues they have between commercials and lies (where one starts and one stops, who knows.) but anyway, #1 why did they use that song (it's fairly anti-war in iraq) and #2 can they legally do it? can someone please tell connor oberst that someone who insists on dividing our country is using his music in the process?

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

something i drew while the hippies next to me talked about cleanses and energy

My Bastard Lack of Adventure Sits Its Mopey Eyes on the Rail

My bastard lack of adventure sits its mopey eyes on the rail.
It is a Tuesday and no news of a friend
whether he is alive or no.
Somehow I missed the burn-over.
Just barely middled out in a canister
of Dust Off and sat idly by.
Do you know why icons are bouncing these days
like dust particles in a thunderclap.

My bastard lack of age makes up for its time in dirt naps.
Do you know why we all
port to the collared few.
I stabled my cable bill in an otherworldly nighttime.

My bastard hoax of a name balloons.
The steery-eyed men frothed with collaboration
at the smell of a possible dismount.

My bastard-eyed angels rate you hot-or-not and forget the eggs and burn them.
Do you know why their stitched beaks mime typography.

My bastard track record downsizes and leaves me holed up in a swamp cooler with silverfish.
Did you remember to buy arena football posters.
Do you dance when maritime pride
leaves a mimed pistol.

My bastard guru sitting next to me who I've never talked to gives "cleansing" lessons.
Do you know what you can do with epsom salts
and a decent sunrise.
Do you know how you can make your error messages
work for you,
my bastard lack of a good explanation for our disconnect,
my bastard hands and my posturing,
my bastard inbox with your bastard, bastard lack of re:s, cc:s, and bcc:s
and my bastard bangarang in a tinseled room.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Thursday, July 12, 2007

i have neglected this blog in previous weeks

and so, 2 poems.

Respect Our Monuments

Respect our monuments.
Just leave alone the chainsawed cougar
clawing the flag pole.
Near the tracks
and you weren't there.
I just read something very interesting.
If I drank a bottle of Robitussin
you could be sitting in any chair.

Respect our monuments.
You deserve as many tattered filaments
as you can find.
Just don't you goddamn dare
tinker with my Hi-Liter,
you eugenicist.

Respect our monuments,
will ya?
We didn't carve all those guys's
faces into granite for Nothing.
Please don't stray off the path marked in yellow
or a buzzer will go off
and the Armoire will shoot RPGs at your face,
Capt. Tourist.
Patty Hearst be damned!
I-Didn't-Import-These-Sexy-Rocks for Nothing.


***


La La La La Paradise!

1.

My wrists are angry because they are sewn to the English department's handrail. It overlooks the social justice that we may or may not have in the future. My wrists are so tired of waiting for a ride home. Maybe I will upgrade my cable and then blog about new channels. My guess is it's probably an extra fifty bucks a month. And you get to see Everything. Mmm. Her wrists remind me of Tillamook Vanilla Bean ice cream. I have a high fashion suit of armor and wouldn't you know, the maid fucking microwaved it.

2.

I just applied for a new job. I am very excited. I have always wanted to be a "Socialite." It was either that or "Sudanese Fiduciary Advisory Committee Superintendent." The other application was much easier. It had questions like, "Are you, or have you ever been a member of a Lost Generation?" So sue me, please, I am going down and I will take you all with me.

3.

We're going down down. And sugar we're going down. And we will be at the bottom of Everything and we'll see it. We'll see it.

4.

Breathable polo, why do you taunt me with your itchy collar. We only buy the finest. We only adopt Blue Whale babies.

5.

I have keys to everything now and I don't send Christmas cards. Tell all my ex-Saturdays that I am well and that I have found happiness in something else.