my soul is stored in my scent like swimming pools

resume

2012-01-03T14:06:00.000-05:00

i want to get a job drinking beer
i want to get a job as a headphone tester
i want to get a job as a hard drive salesman
i want to get a job as a kite
i want to get a job as a wind gust
i want to get a job as a piano
i want to get a job building fires
i want to get a job setting up tents

'unknown perspective'

2012-01-02T17:51:00.002-05:00

i was thinking about writing a song from an 'unknown' perspective
and you were thinking about it too
we are thinking about it and
they are thinking about something along those lines
she told me to stop thinking about it
so he told her to shut the fuck up
she felt embarrassed
he thought about the process of being 'em-bare-assed'
they wondered what i was thinking
i told her that it was alright
i told him to stop being so mean to her
i told him i would make him go away
but they told me that was a bad idea
i changed my mind

'first' person

2012-01-02T17:48:00.002-05:00

i want to invent a nose vacuum so i don't have to blow it anymore

i do not want to eat stuffed black fish and feel spoiled anymore

i wrote a song yesterday with the lyrics 'publish your novel, don't publish your novel'

i read some internet poetry and thought 'this is not poetry'

i farted this morning while lying in bed and thought it was my cellphone vibrating

i had a dream the other night that i was on roller skates

i had a dream last night that i was eating chicken at a ski resort

bradford cox is becoming a reoccurring character in my dreams

selections from a 'lightworker's facebook statuses

2012-01-02T16:21:00.001-05:00

And im blunt about it and i say, because our planet was tooken over by a hostile extraterrestrial race after the fall of atlantis.

Everything has gotten out of hand because of a sinister control of our system via the illuminati and there ruthless games and tricks. AND THIS IS WHY MY FRIENDS THERE ARE BENEVOLENT ETS AND UFOS ALL AROUND THIS PLANET. THEY ARE FIGHTING A HOSTILE THAT IS IN CONTROL OF THIS PLACE THIS PLANET ITS GOVERNMENTS ETC.

My cat is not acting him self. He seems antesy, or bothered. Like he cant excape what ever he is encountering. Hes never under my bed nor is he ever winey. Anyone else take notice to a change in there pets behavior tonight please let me know.

My day

2011-12-29T13:14:00.002-05:00

I am losing focus of my original goal today. My original goal today was to complete all of my final assignments for the semester. So far I have completed three of the easiest things on my list. I want to think about something else right now. Why do I always want to think of something else than what I am thinking about. It’s hard. What’s hard? I want to type things that will matter and actually help me figure things out. I never figured out the things I was supposed to figure out.

I went for a jog today and I was very out of breath before I even made it out of my apartment complex. It was really cold outside and I was breathing really hard and salivating intensely. I need to do some laundry and I think that will help me. The symbolism of washing my clothes may or may not have an effect on my mental state. I thought about transformation today. I want to transform. I want to transform into a surfer again. I want to transform into a better, more responsible person. I want to transform into someone who doesn’t have to type these self therapy stream of consciousnesses anymore.

I want to go outside every day and have a plan to get some exercise. I want to find my own voice and become credible as a person. I want to not be embarrassed about someone else reading this. I want to be honest with my audience. I want to never feel hungry every again. I never want to feel cold again. I want to fall in love with my girlfriend even more. I want to stop living in my own little world. I need to be motivated. I need to motivate myself. I need to write a novel about motivating myself. I wonder if it would actually work. I need to keep writing like this every day and collect it.

I don’t want to write anything that is meaningless anymore. I want to write minimally. I want my message to not be stated. I don’t want to state anything that will be stated. I feel tired. I wrote in my bed last night in my moleskin. My hand started hurting and I realized that I couldn’t write as fast as I can on a computer. Or keyboard. I like keyboards. I was always an above average speed typer. I don’t type correctly though. I use my right hand more than my left. On my left hand I use mainly my index finger for letters and sometimes my thumb for the space bar. On my right hand I use mainly my middle finger and index finger. I use my right pinky for the shift key/capitalization.

On my list of things to do I made a subhead of future. I underlined “future.” Under it I listed “literature, music, love, and happiness.” I guess these are my long term goals in life. I just changed the word “wrote” to “listed” in the previous sentence. I want to have regular feelings again. I want my feelings to come and go naturally. I want to take a nap right now. I have been sleeping too much lately.

I live next to a dog park. Most mornings I just lie in my bed and enjoy the shit out of sleeping. It’s warm and sometimes I get to dream about sex. Sleep is a great way to escape your conscious feelings. This morning I thought I heard a girl screaming while having sex, but it was really just a dog barking. It was a very strange experience. I think this has happened multiple times. Sometimes while lying in bed I will think I feel my cell phone vibrating under my butt. Then I will roll over and look for it but it's not there and then I realize that I just farted. It is a very strange experience. I need to get a job.

I am never tired. Typing like this makes me tired. Why does reading or typing make me so tired? I don’t like that idea. If I lay down and take a nap right now I will probably wake up feeling all hot and weird. Everyday feels short when you don’t really do anything. Time just wastes like crazy. My shins hurt.

2011-12-29T13:08:00.001-05:00

“Free association also shares some features with the idea of stream of consciousness, employed by writers such as Virginia Woolf and Marcel Proust: 'all stream-of-consciousness fiction is greatly dependent on the principles of free association'.^[9]”

–Wikipedia

Campfire

2011-12-29T12:53:00.003-05:00

I need to stop being so sexist. Yesterday three female writers spoke before our class and I could not get past the fact that they were women. I’m not sexist; I just think most women are not as smart as men. I should not stop typing. There is no reason for my hands to stop moving. There is a dialogue in my head at all times. No wonder it gets hard to type when I think about what to type. No more thinking. No more planning. Just straight stream of consciousness that can be edited later.

I thought about going for a bike ride today. I thought about getting some form of exercise. Everything in my story must be relevant. I think about what I am and I feel disappointed and sad. There is no good reason for me to feel like this. I don’t know what my problem is with women. I think I am intimidated by them. It is intimidating to be one of the only straight males in my writing arts classes. Although I kind of enjoy the idea of me being in the minority, the idea of me overcoming the odds. Right now a smart woman is breaking through to her mentally challenged student while I am thinking about mad science.

It’s very interesting to see what people post on facebook. This kid that has tourettes syndrome posts all this new wave stuff. He added “lightworker” to his name and recently he’s posting videos about “indigo starseeds.” I googled “starseed” and a bunch of…I’m not sure what to call them, believers, people who believe it, websites came up. I researched “indigo starseed wiki” and opened the page. It says that starseed “is fictional life forms in Larry Niven’s Known Space science fiction series. I think this stuff is kind of like that cult that Tom Cruise is in. I just googled “that cult that tom cruise is in.” Oh yeah, scientology.

Things like this scare me. I wonder what really goes on inside of the minds of the authors of this stuff. Why do they do it, for power? This is why I want to be a writer. I want to write something that showcases my power. I want to empower. But isn’t that the same as what these cult leaders want to do? I’m not sure. I need to keep writing and not think about what I am writing or why. Yesterday I was drawing cartoons stream of consciousness. I am thinking about Steven King comparing writing to mental telepathy. I wish I could just think a novel into existence. From now on I will simply think this novel into existence with my typing as a side product.

Yesterday I failed a linguistics test because I didn’t study. I didn’t study because I didn’t like the teacher. She is an old woman that likes to talk about herself. She also believes in a woman who claims to speak to dead animals. I wish I could speak to dead animals. I wish I could speak to living animals. I wish I could telecommunicate with living and dead animals. I do not believe that she has the ability to speak to animals living or dead. In class one day I said “she claims to be an animal psychic.” The teacher said “No, she claims to be an animal communicator.” I said “I don’t think there is any difference.” She said “There is a difference” so I dropped the subject. I didn't want to argue.

If you claim to telepathically speak to the spirits of dead animals you are a psychic. I don’t care who you are. What does that even mean? I need to stop beginning sentences with “I need to.” The problem with writing stream of consciously is that there is no structure. Just like Pencilsgurlyna. Its how little kids write. I guess I still write like a little kid. I guess that’s better than writing like a grown up scientist or a lawyer or something. I need to get up and close the window, my feet are getting cold. I wonder how long I can keep writing for. I’m getting a little hungry but the coffee is still working.

Miss Pencilgurlyna is a story written by a little girl named Kassidy. It is meta. Kassidy writes “Cut, cut, cut” as if she is the director of the story. I drink too much beer. I need to stop. I am beginning to get a beer belly. This is a very rambling tone. I just thought about the Batona trail. Last summer my friends and I camped out in our secret spot. I should write a story about going out there. I am packing my truck with my backpack. Tomorrow I leave for the Batona trail.

Today I thought about Facebook. All these people are getting engaged. It’s weird. Last summer (or two summers ago) I was trying to have sex with this blonde girl with fake breasts. I feel like someone from my generation would use the term “bang.” I never got to see them though. I think I might have felt them once while sleeping in her bed. Although I never saw them before the surgery, I’m pretty sure they were much nicer before the procedure. Now she is engaged to this kid that lives right down the street from her parents house. Well, his parents house is right down the street from her parents house. Everyone lives with their parents these days. I imagine in the future if you are unhappy with your life you'll just get a head transplant. After you get a head transplant you will retain your sense of self but at the same time become an entirely different person. Then I thought of science fiction where they switch people’s heads and sew them back on.

I entered the forest. It was a partly cloudy day with periods of intense sunshine followed by intense darkness. The smell of honeysuckle mixed with the sight of wild blueberries was tweeting at me. Birds were tweeting. They were not on twitter though. I must hold back from editing this. Keep forging on into the wilderness of my brain. I brought my banjo with me and I played it as I walked and thought. I thought about the new wave stuff again. I’ve seen plenty of shooting stars in my life but never an alien craft. Perhaps I’ll see one out here in the woods. My computer needs a fan under it or it will overheat. It is like a crutch of technology. My smart phone died when it got wet last summer. Now I use one of my old cell phones. It’s a flip phone. It doesn’t have a qwerty keyboard so it’s really time consuming to text.

The other day I had a conversation with my girlfriend about America. I don’t think they should just give high school graduates college loans. At the same time I am thinking “how can I think this?” I’m complaining because I got the chance to go to college using the government’s money. People all around the world suffer under oppressive governments and I have the nerve to say that I don’t think high school students should get loans. There is something up with it. There is some ulterior motivation. My generation is self entitled. I want to be the first person to write a novel that encapsulates my generation. I said “time is running out before someone else writes that novel.” This is a good ideology I told myself I should follow. Before Jay Reatard died he said in a documentary that he felt like time was running out for him to make the music he wanted to make. Time is running out for me to write the kind of writing I want to write. That is why I’m going out into these woods. To pay the government back for what they gave me.

Another problem of my generation is prescription pills. Roxy codeine is destroying my old neighborhood and some of my family members. I think it comes down to money. Most of my American problems trace back to money. I’ve never been in a position where I did not have enough money. That is a very scary position to be in, and completely unrealistic. Money for me is just as real as the internet. I just said “keep your eyes on the road you hand upon the wheel,” to my roommate. He’s bringing “his babies” home with him. His babies are Budweisers. This apartment is not natural. These pine trees are my friends. The New Jersey Pine Barrens is one of the most beautiful places in the world. Think of how egocentric that statement is. I’ve only ever been to Vermont, New York, North Carolina, and one time to Florida. I got the flu in Florida and puked up a lot of red jello. There is a lot of places in this world I have never seen. Yet I stand behind my original statement.

When I get out to the spot I will plug in my laptop. Then I will probably play banjo for a while. I’ve been thinking a lot about wasting time. I waste a lot of time. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference between doing something productive and wasting time. The two kind of blur together. I’ve read some peoples writing recently that I really admire. It’s as if they’re talking to me. Is this what Steven King was talking about? Mental telepathy. The reason I am on this trip is to learn whether or not I want to talk with dead animals. Or anything dead. I’m sure I’d want to talk to rocks and metals.

Meanwhile girls are thinking about how to teach little kids. No wonder men can’t write. Actually they can, they write about sports, because we are the best at playing sports. I want to learn the accents of trees. I must keep writing or else too much thinking will get in the way. It’s all in the fingers and their pace. It’s percussion to a song. It’s pressing the space bar. I want to press the space bar. I want to type “@musicmattress” into twitter.

It’s a new form. A space between. I hear a police siren. That’s only relevant to right now though. Or can be relevant in multiple places at once via digital reproduction of information. Dun da’ nun da’ nun. Onomotopia. I just googled “heyy” and it said “The app is currently unreachable” because I unplugged the internet cable long ago and hiked through the white sand. It is a geophysical masterpiece. I can’t stop writing or else I’ll just sit there staring at the screen and that’s bad for my eyes. Keep the fingers loose. Perhaps put on some Bob Dylan records. Or not.

“Have you heard the new Hendrix?”

“No,”

“Just kidding, it’s the Black Keys.”

Only in recent years has the human species begun to collect information in semiotic domains like runescape classic. I’m not out in the woods. I’m sitting on the couch with my computer right now. A big part of living in the woods is keeping up with your inner radio. You have to play the songs you want to hear. That time is never wasted. The time of recording music or writing a conceptual piece of writing is running out on creativity, and young thinking. I wonder how much a pine tree learns as a sapling. The 2 pines that hold up my hammock are my parents.

When I am in the woods of the United States of America I like to carve sticks. I always have and always will. I have a feeling that in 2012 we probably won't get the chance to vote for the people worth voting for. That’s why I’m carving up all these spears and stockpiling ‘em for the next Civil War. Maybe we should just re-enact the Civil War on Twitter. I predict I will get shot in the hip by a Confederate with a rifle, but my cellphone will block the musket ball. I won't have insurance on my phone, but my phone company will replace it for free anyway.

The worst/best part of writing is seeing who you really are inside. This semester I learned that it’s not a good idea to write about personal sad things if you don’t want to be forced to deal with it and turn something in. It’s the end of the civil war and I am camping in the snow off the Batona trail, listening to a live Mogwai song over audio of an interview by Michael Silverblatt of Tao Lin.

I saw Tao Lin fighting in the Civil War. He went to load his musket, and he couldn't do it. He just sat there, looking up on his cell phone how to load a musket. And there’s bullets and cannon balls flying past him, but they're not hitting him. And all of a sudden his cell phone turns into a flamethrower and he wins the civil war.

And maybe that’s why I don’t like re-writing as mush as I need to. I like it a little sometimes. I like to have a campfire. I like fire. Men like fire.

The End.

Loss of motor function in dreams

2011-12-29T12:38:00.002-05:00

Last night I had a dream that I was in a fictional place in Philadelphia. I was at a "hipster house" and there was a beautiful girl that I knew. Another beautiful girl lived next door and I said to the girl I knew “You have a very pretty neighbor,” and she said “I have a very pretty neighbor,” simultaneously. It was like a city street with row houses but there was a parking lot to one side with a bank and a convenience store set back a little.

I took some “acid” and then I couldn’t move very well. It was like my legs were sometimes paralyzed and my entire motor system was out of whack. There was a music concert that night. I saw Bradford Cox standing outside one of the houses and I asked him where to buy the orange ecstasy pills. My friend told me he bought some really good orange ones. Bradford told me that after the show everyone was going to hang out at a skate park. He told me to meet back up with him there. I asked one of my friends how far away the skate park was and he said far. He said it was like an hour drive.

I could barely walk and I was feeling nervous about parking my car in the parking lot so I moved it down the street to a metered parking space. After that I went into the convenience store and I picked out a few things and got in line for the register. While standing in line some black guy got my attention and I turned around. He looked into my eyes and saw they were dilated and said something about me being fucked up. I was nervous so I turned around but then I looked back at him and gave him a “thumbs up.” When I walked out of the store I realized I had left most of the things I bought on the counter.

During this dream I woke up several times feeling scared. I tried to tell myself to stop the effects of the drugs. Then I fast forwarded to the concert venue. There was a space between the crowd and the stage with a trampoline. The crowd was packed to the barrier. I was one of the only ones on the trampoline and in the space right in front of the stage. There was no security preventing anyone from going in there so I assumed that no one liked the band that was playing. There was a guy lying on the trampoline swimming like a fish and scooting backwards until he started kicking the people in the crowd. I tried to warn him he was about to hit the crowd but he didn't hear me.

When the band stopped playing I started jumping on the trampoline as high as I could. I almost hit the ceiling and then a voice from the stage said “No jumping high on the trampoline,” so I stopped. The whole time I was still looking for ecstasy. My friend came walking up and I asked him if he had any and he said that he knew someone that had just bought 100 pills for 1 dollar. The End.

I will not smoke weed instead of do anything

2011-12-29T12:34:00.000-05:00

I have a problem.

I am not addicted to drugs and alcohol.

This prevents me from living a successful life and from being happy.

I would like to get help from my friends and my family in removing this problem from my life. I realize I have a lot of potential.

By reading this right now you are helping me.

It’s not and never was a secret.

It’s what they make you say until you finally understand the association.

I am not associated with liquor stores, drug dealers, and marijuana.

I am not associated with drug addicts and drunks.

But it doesn’t have to be this way.

By writing this now I will be able to re-read it with an open mind.

I guess that makes this part of the solution.

I will not smoke weed instead of do anything.

I will turn down a beer because I want to drink it.

I have never done acid, coke, heroin, opium, ecstasy, mushrooms, nitrous, molly, oxycontin, roxycontin, percocet, vicodin, valium, adderall, caffeine, taurine, alcohol, tobacco, and marijuana.

I think I’ve tried less than enough.

I need to find help for myself.

I need to grow up and transform.

I need to change my lifestyle.

How do I change my lifestyle?

I am not Barack Obama.

I am not going to graduate from college.

I am going to run out of money.

I am going to lose my girlfriend.

I am going to get into arguments with my parents.

I must not be willing to perpetuate this cycle of depression.

I must return to natural human emotional expression.

I must realize the unreality of my situation.

I must acknowledge the damage I have done.

I have to not want anymore.

Please just let me not want anymore.

I must learn to not be like this.

supposed to be (dadf#ad)

2011-12-27T14:16:00.000-05:00

you can't do this to yourself anymore
and you want to walk out but you can't find the door
when the bars are let out
and the weed has been smoked
you're a joke

when you were young you were just like the sun
and the stars were your friends
and the moon was your love
but the grass in the ground grew up over your head
now you're dead

when you were a little baby boy
you played with your silly little toys
you were happy just to go outside
you were happy just to be alive

if you can learn to not drink all this beer
you can learn to live without your fear
you'll be happy just to go outside
you'll be happy just to not be high

to feel alive without anything
to feel right like you're supposed to be

ugly page

2011-12-27T14:10:00.002-05:00

country

2011-12-27T14:00:00.000-05:00

His jeans were made
of American flags left
out in the rain

Listening for
the chainsaw truck
squishing all sorts-
a bugs

They're not allergic
North American
pollination
never killed nobody

nonsense

2011-12-27T13:54:00.000-05:00

Tell me a melody like why you're a person. The winter sun shining on the shed in our backyard charge battery. It's not that hard plumbers under the house insert faux-psychedelic swirls, symbolic pearls, girls with curls. A poison elixir, no it's not a cure, pure. Nothing more than a piece of trash, useless garbage, water heater. Substance and permanence. My name is Emily, in 7 years i'll be an alcoholic at some rave on ecstasy. Cold water, hot water, love the process, enjoy the process. Feed it to the cat. Never get what you want in the industry, promise forgiveness.

rules of thinking

2011-12-16T01:51:00.005-05:00

rules to think like carl sagan:
1. use "us" and "we" alot
2. be inclusive (thats us, everyone u love, everyone you know, everyone you every heard of, every this, every that..inventor and explorer, every saint and sinner...etc.)
3. always look at the bigger picture
4. always remind us how small and unimportant we are
5. use scientific terms, for example, refer to us as "our species"
6. make statements on hypothetical situations (let's imgaine...
7. be extremely imaginative
8. "whole"sense of history
9. use alliteration "point of pale light"

"to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot,
the only home we've ever known"

2011-12-16T01:41:00.003-05:00

Kartika

2011-11-21T17:30:00.000-05:00

mixed media

2011-11-21T16:44:00.005-05:00

Metasaurus Text

2011-11-18T14:28:00.009-05:00

The inside of a metasaurus
text smelled horrible.

Then the metasaurus text
was swallowed by a metametasaurus text.

The inside of a metametasaurus
text smelled even worse.

Then the metametasaurus text
was swallowed by a metametametasaurus text.

The inside of metametametasaurus
text smelled the worst.

He woke up on the couch. Scratching his head he took a piss and thought about selfishness. Putting his love of beer over everything, he imagined her crying under her freshly washed white sheets. The stove showed the time 5:06AM in the kitchen his head felt like a pressure cooker with a broken valve. The house was the belly of a beast. He tried to fall asleep but the party was still raging in his epidermis. He took a blanket from his room and laid back down on the couch. The shades began to glow around the edges. He closed his eyes. This was not happiness or sadness. Every day was like a newspaper being crumpled up and gathered to build a fire. A genie, not in a bottle of beer, but one that lived in a coffee mug. He wished a thousand caffeinated wishes at avoiding the consequences. Motivated by an odd sense of clarity covered in the sand of a broken egg timer, he heard the cars outside the window accelerating over speed bumps and the other various traffic noises. Everything was darker than outer space. And then a worm hole opened, or a spaceship landed, or maybe it had teleported. The traffic noise became extremely louder. He found himself quickly in it's jaws and was eaten. Swallowed whole by a metasaurus text, he started to read the writings on the walls of it's stomach.

thinking about an authentic experience

2011-11-18T13:57:00.005-05:00

I wanted to go over to my black neighbors house and say,

"The titties on your snowman are too small, the ass is too big."

Now I am looking at the shadow of a nail on the wall, not even a picture, just a shadow of a hanger thinking about an authentic experience.

i don't know

2011-11-18T13:51:00.002-05:00

"You don't call the painter and expect him to know
the meaning of or why he created the painting."

a cold search for a notebook
with a great semi-hollow tone
a cat meowing, hungry, spoiled
the positive and negative effects
everyone has that one experience
they use to make the decision
to like or not like something
the doorknob is quiet and content
he is tired and shivering silently
the paint told the walls last week
about the importance of ceiling fans
while lobsters played the cymbals
listening to the little mermaid
through a sub-woofer in a banquet hall
you can borrow my public address system
only if you promise not to tell the glassblowers
to keep up the good work
"How's the sub-woofer sound?"
"Too low for you?"
"No, fine,"
What does it mean?
...Godfrey's Bridge

selections from a conversation

2011-11-18T13:46:00.000-05:00

"What kind of person gives a box of crackers for Christmas?"
"Someone cool, and probably Asian."
"The word "Asian"?"
"Not Africa,"
"Everything from Asia,"
"Are we watching Cops right now?"
"Do you wanna be Waka Flocka for the rest of your life?"
"It's Cheaters,"
"They're like the love police."

the people watching tv

2011-11-18T13:41:00.002-05:00

the people watching tv
they're televising babies
and cutting off their bodies
this is what we're watching

anti-drug commercials
are systematically failing
and this is why we're watching

just let me spend your money
on a ring for my baby mama
and this is what we're watching
and this is why we're watching

merry christmas baby

The pixie stick kid

2011-11-18T13:38:00.003-05:00

The page ruffler

I don't want to be known as "the page ruffler" or "the itch scratcher" definitely not the itch scratcher or not "the hair flipper" or "the strange music student" no not that or "the balcony lurker in the eagles's nest" or "the hyper hyena" but rather "the pixie stick kid"
Yeah, I'd like that.

The pixie stick kid

stream of consciousness

2011-11-18T13:26:00.002-05:00

The following was transcribed from a dirty piece of paper that I found on the floor of my truck. It was originally hand-written on a rainy day while watching an adult program on HBO in a yellow notebook at the house I used to live in.

there is toilet paper hanging from the ceiling fan
I just brought up, and lit my candle
they just don't get it, or maybe I don't get it
All of these fetishes, what about sex? just sex
Is it not good enough? really? weird
slapping each other and wearing diapers
A Hawaiian with a sweet arm tattoo, lesbian
Feminist fucking machine art gallery
"It took about 20 anal scenes to get the gallery
open"
Yeah fucking right!
"Amazing orgasms"
The rain is falling as I watch this fucked up
show about people and their strange
compulsions
they look like tigers, lesbian tigers
"for me art + sex have always been close together"
"for me art + beer have always been close together"
"for me art + drugs have always been close together"
And the sound of our overflowing gutters
mixed with the announcer on television
say "dildos"
vegetables
cellphone as a sex toy
"that does feel good"
To Recap: hollowed out cum cucumber
headache in the top of my head
"I had a late night last night so,"
I lit my black cherry candle and took
2 drags off a cigarette and then
I thought "my head hurts and I have
to take a piss
"It's really coming down out there
I don't like it"
phone sex
and as I took a piss I looked at the clorox
bathroom cleaner
stankbeetle
stop making those puke sounds
"Stink beetles revenge"
"where'd you put those fingers tonight?"
"stink beetle's ass"
I went to sleep a couple hours ago
My black cherry candle is burning
this pen is selling this college
paying for fucking HBO, turn it off
over the air
"it's not?"
"very sexy cheerleaders"
"hello howard"
"I feel very lucky"
"Hi Howard"
"You know you make me hard"
This is the most profitable prank
phone call ever
"oh yea" porn star rhetoric
my stomach is angry at the world
"I'm ready"
Unreal
headache in the top of my head
it hurts to move
I took a nap
and you woke me up
so...

flash non-fiction

2011-11-05T16:16:00.003-04:00

Depression

The other day I thought I was a clown. I imagined myself walking into a convenience store with my face painted wearing big floppy fucking clown shoes. Nothing was out of the ordinary; it was just my normal appearance. No one reacting to how stupid I looked, of course everyone would notice, but never say or do anything.

flash fiction

2011-11-05T16:08:00.007-04:00

HelplessnessIsPathetic

I sat in a Subway eating a five dollar foot long by myself, singing a sad song to myself in my head. Sometimes I feel like I live in a fucking fantasyland. I need to stop feeling like the “failed” creative type, like I patented the most ridiculous bullshit excuse to ever exist.

“Do you know why you feel this way?” said my sandwich.
I was surprised the sandwich could talk, let alone read my mind.

“Yes,” I said before taking another bite.

“No you don’t,” said the sandwich.

2011-11-01T17:06:00.001-04:00

overhear: a hunting dog, that will hunt information you need
she looks like a bird
i hope this is interesting
surface details, no time for introspection
third floor, walk in late
"sorry i'm late"
oh no hands on
just think about it..immerse yourself
a writer that thinks like a engineer/wtf is it called?
practicalfuckers

i pray for rest
could you pray for us
we know he loves you the best

what are they printing?
i had a paper cut on my thumb
i cut it on a bottle
it is a hardened lump now
amatuer web design
what rhymes with italicized?
looking at pictures of myself of facebook
answers question "double dipping" rolls eyes
the boy saw a man with a telescope
the plagiarizer
the plagiarism of this blog post

global cooling of park crest

2011-10-31T13:57:00.003-04:00

how are
they supposed
to plow this place
with all of these speedbumps

second person selfishness

2011-10-31T13:42:00.005-04:00

yo
you the one making the decisions
you think you're
so fucking
right

2011-10-29T10:54:00.002-04:00

not have to be

2011-10-19T20:29:00.005-04:00

I’d like to do some

crafts in the greenhouse
mostly illusion close to

no suffocation from air weed
and lastly confusion
leastly how it’ll be

sober delusion

stoner reality

troublesome goose

2011-10-19T20:23:00.008-04:00

weather is harder now

we fucked with the earth

The rivers don’t flow as fresh

we filled them with shit

The ocean keeps reminding us

our wings are getting tired of this wind
And happiness
sadness

nothing

except everything
flying home
ahead of the flock
that one troublesome goose

module 2: writing strategy class notes

2011-10-11T17:33:00.005-04:00

The Runny Nose Analogy

You'll be completely stuffed up for 2 days unable to breathe before it starts to run and doesn't stop.
When you're well nothing comes out. But when your sick, it won't stop coming.

10/13/11

The Great Conversation of Humanity

Humanity converses through literature. It is important for writers because even though it is sometimes a one way conversation, conversations can take place completely separate from the original author and his or her time and place.
One conversation: The author is reading things and then commenting on them with her own writing. Another conversation: When she hands in her paper to the teacher and gets it back with marks.

Writing as a Social Activity

Everything you write is for an audience. Everything you write depends on the influence of society. For example, Lindemann quoting Lefevre writes: "Even when writers are acting alone, they are pervasively affected by their relationships to others." The writer receives praise, encouraged to continue.

Creativity is Both Nature and Nurture

Nature means you are genetically predisposed to be creative.
Nurture is the process of capitalizing on your creativity via education, practice, and repetition.
Creativity has no rubric.

The Importance of Revision

Feedback is essential to Nelson's revision process. A writing community fosters feedback.

Writing is recursive.

Remix Techniques

2011-10-11T15:54:00.001-04:00

1. Intertextuality
2. Juxtaposition
3. The Unexpected
4. Interruption
5. Comic Relief
6. Pure Enjoyablity
7. Themes
8. Duality
9. Montage

translation ideas

2011-10-07T14:35:00.007-04:00

big ideas:

translation of Amendments 18 and 21 into "50's jazz musician"

Rules:
1. Refer to people as "cats"
2. End phrases with "ya dig?"
3. Always use "gonna" instead of "going to"
4. Use language that "bounces" or "rattles off"
5. Refer to jazz greats by their nicknames or first names
6. always refer negatively to the police
7. break into song at any moment
8. use scat
9. go off on incoherent tangents

50's jazz slang is a combination of AAVE, Hippie, and Stoner.

Amendment 18 - Liquor Abolished. Ratified 1/16/1919. Repealed by Amendment 21, 12/5/1933. History

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DEiMx_EtEw

1. After one year from the ratification of this article the manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquors within, the importation thereof into, or the exportation thereof from the United States and all territory subject to the jurisdiction thereof for beverage purposes is hereby prohibited.

1. Listen here Daddy-O. Come next turn of the earth the puttin together, coppin, movin, and beboppin of hooch, white lightnin', juice, rotgut, moonshine, skee, the goods, sippin and shippin in and out Uncle Sam's pad goes bootleg beatski.

2. The Congress and the several States shall have concurrent power to enforce this article by appropriate legislation.

2. The big daddys in D.C. and the square States gonna come down hard on cats with the big bad book of no-nos, ya dig?

Ericmadis53 is right, a lot of these old cats stayed in a chord in a progression a long time, lightnin hopkins even said "lightnin change, when lightnin won't' too."

Elkins2424 1 week ago

3. This article shall be inoperative unless it shall have been ratified as an amendment to the Constitution by the legislatures of the several States, as provided in the Constitution, within seven years from the date of the submission hereof to the States by the Congress.

3. This drift ain't gonna get caught on till it hits the script of our for-daddys Constitution within a cat's meow of passin to the big joint.

Amendment 21 - Amendment 18 Repealed. Ratified 12/5/1933. History
1. The eighteenth article of amendment to the Constitution of the United States is hereby repealed.

1. Owls can get smashed up again without trouble from the pigs. Cats blowing in the street all night long sippin cocktails while Barbi here cuts a rug. The scene is hot right now with these new young cats that can blow.

2. The transportation or importation into any State, Territory, or possession of the United States for delivery or use therein of intoxicating liquors, in violation of the laws thereof, is hereby prohibited.

2. imansportnin is bustable on the road and at the spot. The subway is blowin up the boroughs.
3. The article shall be inoperative unless it shall have been ratified as an amendment to the Constitution by conventions in the several States, as provided in the Constitution, within seven years from the date of the submission hereof to the States by the Congress.

3. The book won't read right unless your name is Charles Parker.
3. This drift ain't gonna get caught on till it hits the script of our fo daddys Constitution within a cat's meow of passin to the big joint.

potential slang types:

carl sagan slang

"There are in fact 100 billion galaxies, each of which contain something like a 100 billion stars. Think of how many stars, and planets, and kinds of life there may be in this vast and awesome universe."

"We find that we live on an insignificant planet, of a humdrum star, lost in a galaxy, tucked away in some forgotten corner of a universe, in which there are far more galaxies than people."

"extraordinary claims demand extraordinary evidence"

"And we, we who embody the local eyes, and ears, and thoughts, and feelings of the cosmos -- we've begun at last to wonder about our origins. Star stuff contemplating the stars, organized collections of 10 billion billion billion atoms contemplating the evolution of matter -- tracing that long path by which it arrived at consciousness here on the planet Earth and, perhaps, throughout the cosmos." -- Carl Sagan

rules to think like carl sagan:
1. use "us" and "we" alot
2. lengthy descriptions (thats us, everyone u love, everyone you know, everyone you every heard of, every this, every that..inventor and explorer, every saint and sinner...etc.)
3. always look at the bigger picture
4. always remind us how small and unimportant we are
5. use scientific terms, for example, refer to us as "our species"
6. rely on hypothetical situations (let's imgaine...
7. be extremely imaginative

omegle spymode

2011-10-07T00:29:00.002-04:00

omegle.com

You're now watching two strangers discuss your question!

Question to discuss:

favorite alcoholic beverage?

Stranger 2: XO

Stranger 1: tourex cocktail

Stranger 2: ive never had it. XO is very good patron lol

Stranger 1: lol,

Stranger 2: how does it taste?

Stranger 1: it taste like beer

Stranger 2: hmmm

Stranger 1: but the affect is something, mate

Stranger 1: you mix lsd with alcohol and you get tourex

Stranger 2: hahaha nice

Stranger 2 has disconnected

You're now watching two strangers discuss your question!

Question to discuss:

favorite alcoholic beverage?

Stranger 1: jager bomb

Stranger 2: rum n coke

Stranger 2: bundy

Stranger 1: mmmm i want some now

Stranger 2: shut up you attention seeking asshole

Stranger 1: okay?

Stranger 2: yes ok alright

Stranger 1: weirdo

Stranger 2: get the fuck back in the kitchen

Stranger 1: nah

Stranger 2: ummmm yes

Stranger 1: ummmm how bout no

Stranger 2: how about get the fuck back in the kitchen before i slap the shit outta yo face

Stranger 1: that's no way to speak to a lady

Stranger 2: thats no way to shut the fuck up

Stranger 1: :)

You're now watching two strangers discuss your question!

Question to discuss:

bacon vs. everything?

Stranger 1: asl?

Stranger 2: Bacon

Stranger 2: :D

Stranger 2: 19

Stranger 2: my room

Stranger 2: Lol

Stranger 1: lets fuck

Stranger 2: You?

Stranger 2: Okay

Stranger 1: 0.4 f ukraine

Stranger 2: You got the dick?

Stranger 1: yeah bro

Stranger 2: Good

Stranger 2: :D

Stranger 1: ahaha

Stranger 2: *bends over*

Stranger 2: Be gentle

Stranger 2: LOL

You're now watching two strangers discuss your question!

Question to discuss:

bacon vs. everything?

Stranger 1: ew

Stranger 1 has disconnected

You're now watching two strangers discuss your question!

Question to discuss:

bacon vs. everything?

Stranger 2: bacon

Stranger 1: bacon

Stranger 2 has disconnected

You're now watching two strangers discuss your question!

Question to discuss:

black vs. white?

Stranger 2 has disconnected

You're now watching two strangers discuss your question!

Question to discuss:

Pro-USA or Anti-USA

Stranger 1: anti

Stranger 2: pro usa

Stranger 2: mostly cuz i live here

Stranger 2: why anti?

Stranger 1: i just hate usa

Stranger 1: so much

Stranger 2: but why?

Stranger 1: cuz for the others

Stranger 1: america is only usa

Stranger 1: that pisses me off

Stranger 2 has disconnected

You're now watching two strangers discuss your question!

Question to discuss:

Pro-USA or Anti-USA

Stranger 2: USA

Stranger 1: FUCK YOU

Stranger 1 has disconnected

You're now watching two strangers discuss your question!

Question to discuss:

Pro-USA or Anti-USA

Stranger 2: That's a complex issue.

Stranger 1: M

Stranger 2: It can't be summed up simply by pro- or anti-.

Stranger 2: What do you mean "M"?

Stranger 1: Sex- M

Stranger 1: u

Stranger 1: ????

Stranger 2: Why are you doing spy mode if you're ignoring the questions?

Stranger 1: Intrested in woman

Stranger 2: Are you even reading the words I am typing?

Stranger 1: from where

Stranger 2: -

Stranger 2: -_-

Stranger 2 has disconnected

You're now watching two strangers discuss your question!

Question to discuss:

Pro-USA or Anti-USA

Stranger 2: Anti.

Stranger 1: Anti

Stranger 1: No argument here.

Stranger 2: This pleases me.

Stranger 2: Farewell.

Stranger 2 has disconnected

You're now watching two strangers discuss your question!

Question to discuss:

Rap Vs. Metal?

Stranger 2: i like tin foil

Stranger 2: :3

Stranger 1: I like tin foil also

Stranger 2: its better

Stranger 1: I love to wrap it around my food

Stranger 1 has disconnected

2011-09-23T22:21:00.000-04:00

Poetry is not feelings. Poems are poems because they adhere to some type of structure. My critical writing professor, who refused to give me an A up to the very end, brought it to my attention that no amount of feeling, no matter how poignant, will amount to a decent poem if there is no structure to glue it together. I’m glad I learned this because it confirmed my suspicion that I am horrible at poetry and should just stick to prose.

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2011/what-i-really-learned-in-college/

our sleep

2011-09-22T22:41:00.005-04:00

these sunrise dreams of our bodies
flying as yellow birds over water

her

2011-09-22T22:39:00.004-04:00

miss my yellow bird
and perfect words

batting your lashes
I am borrowing your verbs

cynical potion

2011-09-22T22:38:00.002-04:00

you're not allowed to jumble on what to do
if your brain will always grow shitty poems
for the rest your life and no one will know
about how you felt a little better

sample page

2011-09-22T22:35:00.000-04:00

a red cardinal sat in the blue evergreen
the rain came down wetting almost everything

my throat is sore

when you grow old you could say
you were on tv
coughing up nothing of value

and when you win you can hug
the models and wave
Jane is a girls name

and everything of value is worth
nothing at all
and all art is garbage
but garbage is better than you

and muslims will explode
and christians will destroy our kids
and oil will be spilled
and blood will be spilled
and japs will kill more whales

linguistics

2011-09-09T13:43:00.004-04:00

loinguistics

and life
end life

withdrawl

2011-09-09T13:05:00.001-04:00

dosen't it feel good to delete

2011-09-06T14:22:00.002-04:00

if a uterus can be a coffin
then a coffin can be a uterus

if something can be nothing
then nothing can be something

if i can die in life
then i can live in death

if i can die in this life
then i can live in this death

dying in life vs. living in death

2011-09-06T13:56:00.006-04:00

myself delay
forgot my laptop charger
and never used the word slash
before I don't know whether
scanning through textbooks and feeling dumb
turning 23 every month in the old days
with no family and your music
standing out in the rain

2011-09-06T13:42:00.002-04:00

They look so young and here I am
why does the space bar mess up
the rain is a fan
yup

unfocused

walking home

wonderboy1027

2011-09-04T18:33:00.021-04:00

for Aunt Ruthy

I took the pictures
of the house with
the chair-on-top

without
the chair-on-top
and she wrote a letter
to strange new jersey
and we got published

Now these big pockets

of her jacket contain my things

but they were meant for grenades

handed down to me

that covered her Rosie the Riveter tattoo

that was written about in magazines
she could smell a lie

disarm a bomb

And it was bullshit

whether the sun would have
burned her skin

or whether her skin
burned the sun
it was bullshit
she died so young

and strong
-The Truth from Ruth
and her cousin "wonderboy1027"

5 August 2009

2011-09-04T18:24:00.002-04:00

You know if you show me everything

You’ll be the first and the last

Those summer boys don’t mean anything

We can forget about our past

The sand on your floor of your bedroom

Tells a story you know well

Of a boy who painted houses

And a girl who one day fell

Into love one day last summer

girard

2011-09-04T18:22:00.004-04:00

When

I want you to stop
but you won't
and the shower just won't turn on

It's a broken
washing machine
and a symbol

9 November 2010

2011-09-04T18:21:00.000-04:00

There is a lot more to listen to then there is to listen to

but Everything is bored slouched over an antique rocking horse

You are The Rocking Horse Winner by D.H. Lawrence

or the sound of the beach reproduced by software plug-ins and sequencers

for Dan

2011-08-19T17:02:00.004-04:00

do you believe in the big guy upstairs? he asked me.
(some time later I recommended a kayak)
a kayak is too small a boat for me
last day he worked at Joeys

on the west creek

2011-08-10T13:42:00.002-04:00

on the west creek
a spider's web
catches my face
telling me
secrets

you can't get into my soul, you can't

2011-08-10T13:31:00.010-04:00

to the
unpaid labor on
my idea of happiness,
delusions of grandeur,
what lazy
misconceptions!

I will chase you
from me
and cut out of
this weed cocoon.

I don't need
you
I never needed
you!

bent trees revenge

2011-08-10T13:25:00.001-04:00

When I was younger my family went camping quite often. A big part of camping for me was carving sticks, or I believe the proper term is whittling. On one trip to upstate New York, I wandered away from our campsite in search of a young tree about the width of a quarter. Selecting one, I touched it's smooth bark, saw that it had few branches and decided that it would make a fine walking stick. In order to snap the tree at it's base, I bent it down to the ground and stood on it. After a few back and fourths, I could smell the freshness of the wood and realized it would not easily snap. I bent it down to the ground again, only this time the tree escaped from beneath my feet and sprang upward striking me directly in the face. For a moment all I saw was black, then I ran screaming back to the campsite. Within minutes I felt a throbbing pain in my face as the bruise blackened one of my eyes. After I stopped crying my parents thought it was funny.

imagine that you are building a robot. which brain parts do you think would be especially important for a robot, and why?

2011-08-10T13:16:00.000-04:00

I feel like a million cups of coffee
have you ever eaten a sugar packet?
like chewed and swallowed the paper and all
if I could build a catapult out of
sugar cubes and coffee stirrers
I would like to get a job as a
coffee stirrer
but i'll quit if they
make me wear
a name-tag
I fucking hate name-tags

red flags fire, firing

2011-08-10T13:10:00.002-04:00

shark cartilage as a cure for cancer
sharks cancer less frequently
you're laughing yourself into wellness
my friend is fire-walking down the sidewalk
sweating in your sweat lodge
feet didn't burn
didn't learn
nothing vs. everything
paradigm
it's time to shift your

mindlessness matter
your life blind study
sugar pill
from capital hill
while the sound of the rain
your pain
keeps coming and it's going
while the patients
sleeping in the train station
and their brains don't work the
same since

you made'em happy
choking down that burger
on the tv and your

in the bathroom
since your stomach went crappy
all by itself pouring
down into the bowl

rainy day

2011-08-10T13:03:00.005-04:00

I.

the rain
drugged them onto
the couch
and the wind blew it all away
he sat there half-
listening when he asked her
"what did you learn in class today?"
"girls hear more
words than boys," she said
"girls use both sides
of their brains more,
they have a higher vocabulary"
"because they
are always talking"

II.

when he
dropped her off at class
the crazy gate lady only said "fine day to do that"
and he
was surprised because
she wasn't taking
her job so
seriously today

sitting in class
the girl sitting
next to him
proudly
said
"stanford binet"

nobody

2011-08-10T12:57:00.002-04:00

I was told
to put this
here by my
friend.

He doesn't want
anyone to
know who
he is, or
what he
looks like.

He asked me
if I could
do him a
favor by
placing this
here for
someone to
find.

Congratulations
you found it!

guilty and stupid

2011-08-10T01:03:00.000-04:00

The weekend wrecked the house
high, today is a cold, March morning and the basement is still hung lower
Last night I said, "We both did it so we can't be mad at each other"
but that's dangerous thinking
we'd been drinking
the song is over.

the bike parade

2011-08-10T00:56:00.002-04:00

stringing
streamers
into our spokes
tying them to
trail from our
handlebars
red
white
blue

wrapping around the frame
of a melting ice pop

Lips

2011-08-10T00:52:00.001-04:00

what I'm trying to say
thinking by judging their shape
Sometimes I don't know what to do with my lips
they are unusually large and feel people
know
they are not resting
properly in certain social situations
If I smile, people will look at
still, looking
at them wondering why they never move.
If I frown, people will
literally in the way of
everything I am trying to say
about how to wield them
in the way of
nervous sometimes and
Sometimes my lips get

for the wooden hand sanitizer post

2011-08-10T00:46:00.002-04:00

Oh wooden hand sanitizer post,
standing tall at the edge of the tile floor
You offer so much more than sanitized hands
masterfully constructed of timber
stained cherry brown,
like a beacon of hope to the
students walking in the library
Providing us peace of mind
A weapon in the war against germs
You are lonely and jealous of bathroom sinks
yet constantly offer protection
We take you for granted
with our strong immune systems
Only I notice your yearning for sweaty palms
they neglect your healthy gel!
You just want to be held
rubbed in
relied on

2011-07-25T19:58:00.002-04:00

last night I had a dream I was at my neighbor’s house
with a red headed kid I went to school with
and a random fat girl.

She pulled out 2 baggies.
One had a bunch of multicolored pills.
They looked like the candy Spree.
I assumed it was ecstasy.
The other bag was filled with what looked like tiny fruit loops.

“We stopped at Bonnaroo and bought these,”

“What are those?” I said pointing to the bag of miniature breakfast cereal.

“Where you going?” he asked.

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” I said.

I Talked To God On Chatroulette vol. 1 & 2

2011-07-22T12:39:00.001-04:00

Volume 2.

There is a three click combo required to move to the next person on Omegle that I use to skip through the never ending parade of dicks. In case you haven't rolled face, you don’t know, the average user is a dude waiting for someone or something to watch him flog his dolphin. There are also young looking girls, oblivious middle aged suburbanites, and Justin Bieber lookalikes. It is not a very broad cultural spectrum? There are very few intellectual conversions. Every once in a while you get the exception to the rule. I talked to him for about 45 minutes. I don’t know why he was there, I guess no one would notice him and he could work efficiently. Maybe he was just bored or something.

He looked stoned. He sat at an unusually small mahogany desk littered with several newspapers worth of scraps of paper in every shape, color, and size. There were ideas stacked on top of ideas, collages coming out of collages, and the byproducts of ideas, both the inside and outside edges of what he had cut out. There was a black cat sitting in his lap purring so loudly I could hear it through my laptop’s speakers. “What’s your cat’s name,” I asked. “Mr. Skribbles," he said. "S-K-R-I-B-B-L-E-S"

I told him about how I also like to make collages and he smiled. He encouraged me, and he said making things is the most important action of the human race. He said mostly old people talked to him, and that I sounded unusually young.

“Creativity is one of my most complicated and rewarding gifts,” he said with an old man's vibrato.

"What of everything on earth then made in your image?" I asked. He paused for exactly one minute, and said

“It is only made of scrap." After that he sat quietly for a moment until in an instant his flailing arms tore into a looming stack of coffee mugs, and when they exploded over his head I thought he was dead. As he lie there I thought about who he could possibly be, and found no reason to believe it wasn't him. I’m think it was him.

He awoke and sat very still. I asked him “May I see some of your work,” and he nodded his head yes. Then he went away from the camera for a while and I started to worry. I hoped I hadn’t scared him away by asking too many personal questions. I heard his footsteps on his wooden floors then there right on the screen, he appeared from that long whitewalled hallway with all of his original charcoal sketches of the animals, watercolors of each of the seven seas, and a white ceramic dove. “How did you get the idea for humans?” I asked. “I thought of it in the shower,” he replied.

My face could not hold any emotion. Looking back on my life, I had gotten (or been had, as he would of said it) many ideas while taking showers too. Most of them were not very good, but in a memorable sort of way. “Show me some of your work,” he said.

“I made this collage out of a surfing magazine,” I told him as I held it up to the camera. “Very nice,” he said. “My friend Russ is real good at drawing demons, here is the url to his tumblr,” I said. I watched him type it in, then watched his face as he looked into the screen. “Spooky,” he said.

“I have to go feed my cats now,” he said. “Nice to meet you,”

I said, but I don’t think he heard me; After a little I thought what if he didn't have to go feed his cats. If that's what he says to everyone he is about to next, maybe he lied? Maybe he nexted me. Maybe he simply wanted to talk to someone else who was out there, all alone, clicking through the dicks. And I wasn't the only person in the world with something interesting to say. Maybe he wanted me to see that I would find plenty of good conversation in many other people all around the world, face-to-face. After a while I didn't go on Omegle, or Chatroulette, or anywhere on the internet, like it's actually a place. My whole life I've learned not to trust anything on the internet and that is why it is so strange that I believe it was really him. Well, even if it wasn't him, he was nice.

Volume 1.

It wasn’t even something I had wanted. He was so ordinary, unaware, and even reckless. The glow of the TV was reflecting on my face, an ever-changing spotlight. She sat there expecting the worst. Think of every possible way to jerk off and then multiply that by ten. For a while I held my fist up to the webcam saying, “pound it”, with pretty good results. If they replied with a pound, I said a drawn out “yeah” then said, “have a good night” and “nexted” them. I alternated between “what’s up dawg?” and “what’s up negro?” as a greeting. They were all very different, rarely judgmental.

He was sitting in what looked like a crowded computer lab that could have been anywhere in the world. He was some kind of Asian and there were little kids scampering about behind him. I am not sure whether he spoke English, as a matter of fact; he never said or typed anything. He either nodded or shook his head, and he sometimes looked completely uninterested in our conversation, but then he would nod or shake his head, as if he had been listening the entire time. He didn’t answer most of my questions and she thought he was some kind of creeper. Just sitting there, like some kind of master of facial expressions.

I asked him about everything. Mostly morality, philosophy, science, religion, culture, daytime television and soap operas, whether or not he watched Dog The Bounty Hunter, and abortion. I reverted to yes or no questions, because when I asked open-ended questions he simply ignored the question. By this time, my girlfriend told me she was bored with how things were going, and wanted me to stop. At one point, I looked out the window and said “it’s snowing out,” and he smiled. He had on these big headphones that divided his Afro into separate hemispheres.

I made a joke about Sarah Palin and he laughed uncontrollably for several minutes. I asked him “Is there an afterlife?” and he began to flap his arms like a bird, and I felt embarrassed. I didn’t know what to think. His face was an explosion of several emotions of which I cannot describe. She fell asleep.

He showed me the pinch pots he had made in his ceramics class. He held each one up to the webcam. He talked to the clay, but not with words. Now that I think about it, he did type one thing. He gave me Kim Jong Ils cell phone number. I was confused at first but he just kept nodding and smiling, and then I felt a little better. I felt like I knew what he intended at the time but have long since forgotten.

I bent down and kissed her on the forehead. She was tired, and I was getting tired. I finished my vodka and peach juice, finished hers, and he finished whatever he was drinking. I should have asked him more important questions. I should have obtained ”the answers” But he didn’t answer any of my serious questions. It seemed almost as if he just wanted to enjoy the experience of talking to someone over the Internet.

2011-07-22T12:21:00.004-04:00

"How many Spongebob icepops have you had in your life?"

"...Probably more than five."

via: http://nothewhale.blogspot.com/

2011-07-22T12:19:00.001-04:00

Your just gonna have to sit there and no think about it
Running screaming
With a head full of knives

via: http://nothewhale.blogspot.com/

LBI

2011-07-03T23:31:00.000-04:00

Right by the water
and salt air

Underneath
the current

There are
bullets

There are
bombs

There are
booty traps

The houses
are

air

-conditioned

There are
sleeping babies

I talked to God on Chatroulette vol. 1

2011-07-01T12:58:00.002-04:00

I talked to God on Chatroulette vol. 2

2011-07-01T12:52:00.010-04:00

I told him about how I also like to make collages and he smiled. He encouraged me, and he said making things was the primary function of human beings, and that mostly old people talked to him.

“Creativity is one of my most complicated and rewarding gifts,” he said with an old man's vibrato.
"What of everything on earth then made in your image?" I asked. He paused for exactly one minute, and said
“It is only made of scrap." After that he sat quietly for a moment until instantaneously his flailing arms tore into a looming stack of coffee mugs, which then exploded over his head, I thought he was dead. As he lie there I thought about who he could possibly be, and found no reason to believe it wasn't him. I’m think it was him.

He awoke and sat very still. I asked him “May I see some of your work,” and he nodded his head yes. Then he went away from the camera for a while and I started to worry. I hoped I hadn’t scared him away by asking too many personal questions. I heard his footsteps on the wooden floors and then he appeared from down a long whitewalled hallway with all of his original charcoal sketches of the animals, watercolors of each of the seven seas, and a white ceramic dove. “How did you get the idea for humans?” I asked. “I thought of it in the shower,” he replied.

My face could not hold any emotion. Looking back on my life, I've been getting ideas while taking showers since I was a little kid. Most of them were not very good, but in a memorable sort of way.
“Show me some of your work,” he said.

“I made this collage out of a surfing magazine,” I told him as I held it up to the camera. “Very nice,” he said. “My friend is real good at drawing demons, here is the url to his tumblr,” I said. I watched him type it in, then watched his face as he looked into the screen. “Spooky,” he said.

“I have to go feed my cats now,” he said. I said “Nice to meet you,” but I don’t think he heard me; After a little I thought what if he didn't have to go feed his cats. If that's what he says to everyone he is about to next, maybe he lied? Maybe he nexted me. Maybe he simply wanted to talk to someone else who was out there, all alone, clicking through the dicks. And I wasn't the only person in the world with something interesting to say. Maybe he wanted me to see that I would find someone better to talk to.

The Bike Parade

2011-07-01T12:27:00.001-04:00

barefoot beach

2011-07-01T12:23:00.002-04:00

Let the ocean ground
my poems into sand,

Curse the salted bird!
My senses are sharp reflections

diamonds of sun on water.

Putting them back together,
I cut my fingers on shards of thoughts

To think like a rock tumbler!
a body of water callous to broken bottles,
I will keep them in my head

Until they are polished
and then I will put my sea glass
into a lamp

made out of a jar,
beside my bed.

written and revised for Julia Chang's creative writing class at Rowan University, Spring '11

2011-06-22T10:21:00.000-04:00

Once there was a boy and a house
the boy asked the house,
"am I happy?"
and the house said, "no"
the next day the boy played guitar
inside the house and asked the house,
"am I happy?"
and the house said, "no"
the next day the boy invited
his friends over to play
music in the house
then the boy asked the house,
"am I happy?"
and the house said, "no"
many days later the boy asked the house,
"does anyone live here?"
and the house said nothing.

2011-06-22T10:17:00.003-04:00

to contention (be content)
with what you have
build a home
with what you have

to precede (be preceding)
complication
merging present
and future

to examine (be examining)
predictions
and past

to clarify (be clarifying)
new information
with yourself as
an example

for Richard Brautigan

2011-06-22T10:15:00.003-04:00

sometimes
i think about fucking you
and sometimes
it won't go away until i'm
fucking you

2011-06-22T10:14:00.001-04:00

in the heat of the house
you'll always be a mouse
out in the fire of the sun
we are always on the run

2011-06-22T10:12:00.000-04:00

to make everyone happy
with numbers on the floor
and shoes untied
they will all leave today
and go away or stay
to tell the moon
to make the flowers bloom

on the west creek

2011-06-22T10:08:00.001-04:00

glad you're mad
i didn't call you
aboard a kayak
fighting off spiders
with a paddle

to know you
waited, thinking
through murky
parkway tunnels
under fallen trees

on beautiful days
deep in the forest
I'm thinking about
the same things
and vice versa

2011-06-22T10:05:00.002-04:00

you miss your mornings
this is just something that I know
under covers
with no happiness under the bed

Listen to fan sounds
this is your reward
for science
you left the party

Sleep it all under the rug
don't feel important
to talk to everyone you know
about your problems

Don't wanna function
with no happiness in your head
to find the answers
for science

2011-06-22T10:03:00.004-04:00

does she seem as she seems
are we a part of me
i mean a lot of things
a dream wish art dream
expressing harmony
every thought a leaf
what you think
what you wanna be
it's important
simply expanding
we don't know how to
express ourselves
without water or nutrients
and all the benefits
of a modern society
but we're just
climbing trees

first words with the morning water

2011-06-22T10:01:00.005-04:00

fans
dots
oscillators
points
places you want
to be filled
with what i have
beautiful eyes and
beautiful everythings
your basement has a
comfortable couch
first words with the morning water

in cursive

2011-06-22T09:59:00.001-04:00

dinosaurs are fuel
you think you're cool
driving in to school

six haikus

2011-06-15T23:57:00.004-04:00

a poem for the pines
to me everything was there
Godfrey's bridge campground

I drive by the beach
pepperoni pie for you
thank you for the tip

small poems in my head
come out onto the page now
my hand writes "goodbye"

one hundred degrees
tomorrow we start early
it will suck so bad

my groin hurts to move
skimboarding is for pussyslut
the sun burned my back

hourly rate low
off by eight seven cents
pay me by friday

beach haiku

2011-06-15T23:51:00.001-04:00

the water was cold
the air was so very hot
the beach was perfect

short critiques

2011-06-15T23:48:00.000-04:00

"the face of the clock was clean
as the numbers bled to the floor
and onto my guilty hands...
I killed time."
-Amy Sarisky, Sayreville War Memorial H.S. Grade 12

I want to kill time too
not like
kill time as in pass the time,
kill as in the numbers
bleed to the floor.

"Como esta usted?
Spanish test--now I'm dead"
-Dan Dougherty, Grade 10

I want to rhyme Spanish words with English words.

"I am snow, yet I am beginning to melt."
last line of "Angela Abstinence" by Carmen Cisco

I have melted, but I would like to turn back into snow.

"I am blue - bold as the night
I am as brave as the open sea
I am blue and I am a beautiful sight"
-Amy Rastiello, Grade 8

I believe alliteration of the letter B is beautiful.

"I could go on and on
with things that rhyme with day
But I won't because
That'll take all day"
-Troy Youhas, Grade 8

I wish I could rhyme day with day in such a clever way.

"If I could do anything
I would not change anything"
-Ivellise Acevedo, Grade 9

Maybe if I couldn't do anything, I would change everything.

"Happiness is a light pink sea shell
That crawls on the bottom of the ocean
And takes the sadness out of you"
-"Happines" by Mike Brown, Grade 6

I wish I wrote like Mike Brown did when I was in 6th grade.

"The Pilgrims Sailed the Seas" by Mia Sapienza

I wonder what Mia Sapienza is up to these days.

but boy was I

2011-06-15T23:33:00.005-04:00

and I wrote nonsense notebooks
but boy was I wrong
and I tried to set myself free
but boy was I wrong
and I felt better as the words left me
to sit there on that page!
but boy was I wrong
and I thought that I was worthless
but boy was I wrong
and I thought that I was a genius
but boy was I wrong
and I thought that I'd find my way
but boy was I wrong
and I thought I'd be lost forever
but boy was I wrong
and I thought that I was right
but boy was I wrong
and I thought that I was wrong
but boy was I wrong

I will with you

2011-06-15T23:29:00.002-04:00

I will die with you
when I hear that you've died
but I'll go on living
as a cloud in your sky

I will cry with you
forever after you've died
and my tears will fill the ocean
as a cloud in your sky

I will die with you
when you die and I
will fill the ocean with tears
as a cloud in the sky

I will cry with you
when you cry and I
will fill the ocean with tears
as a cloud in the sky

I will fly with you
when you fly and I
will float over your waves
as a bird on your shore

Our drug

2011-06-15T23:23:00.001-04:00

Our drug
has been approved by the FDA
So that means it's ok.
ok?
ok,
it's ok!
and you'll be ok
as long as someone pays

in a non-monetary way
you'll pay

the medium is the message

2011-06-15T23:21:00.001-04:00

stoplight haiku

2011-06-15T23:18:00.002-04:00

my stoplight haiku
I couldn't finish writing
the light turned green fast

the Philadelphia Art Museum

2011-06-15T23:16:00.001-04:00

While browsing
through the gun exhibit,
I saw Silent Jay in his parachute pants
long blond hair, and
was that some sort of beenie?

I forgot what his girlfriend looked like.

for B (ode to Cobain)

2011-06-15T23:13:00.002-04:00

I'm not your hero
I'm not brilliant
you're an idiot
(you don't
know why
you like
them, but
you do)
she's the one
she likes all my pretty poems
and she likes to read along
and she likes to
paint her nails.

2011-05-22T23:10:00.000-04:00

the tv never gets
turned on posters
hang on drywall
underground no
window dreams
about windsurfing

permutations on ceres park

2011-05-22T23:03:00.000-04:00

this is a very nice home
for fish
besides the traffic noise
great shade from
green plants

this is a very nice poem
for wish
besides the spastic boy
a very nice poem
great shade thumb
weed plants

bliss is a very nice comb
for happiness
besides the traffic noise
a very nice home
clean thumbs
for happiness

bliss is the hurried comb
happy noise
besides joy
for clean thumbs

2011-05-22T22:58:00.001-04:00

"Yes, men! men! and there was no more poison left. He picked up the cash-box and showed them it's black emptiness "You're free!""
-John the Savage in Brave New World

"No, women! women! and there was plenty more freedom left. She picked up the poverty-box and withheld from them it's white fullness "You're poisoned!""

watching the wealth channel while drunk

2011-05-22T22:51:00.004-04:00

why
not
own a million dollar yacht
because your dog will take a
shit
on the floor

why
not
buy something
to prevent
the
mess

last night I had a dream...(9)

2011-05-22T22:29:00.003-04:00

last night I had a dream that there was a curse in the doorway
If my body wasn’t symmetrical or entered at the wrong time
Something terrible would happen

last night I had a dream...(8)

2011-05-22T22:29:00.000-04:00

last night I had a dream three hummingbirds got into my apartment
through an open window and I couldn’t get them out
I awoke in terror as one flew into my neck

last night I had a dream...(7)

2011-05-22T22:26:00.000-04:00

last night I had a dream that Wiz Khalifa was to play a show in the front yard of Girard. His opening act was some kind of booty shake contest. My Dad was there and Wiz called him "Arnie" or some other nickname for Arnold Shwarzeneggar because he is tall. There were also gangsters and little kids in costumes.

I climbed a tree and walked out on a branch, but jumped off when I heard it begin to crack. After the opening act, I texted and called you, but you didn't answer. You texted back "I love you."

Then Wiz and his crew disappeared and I assumed they were smoking somewhere. I went looking for them inside of the house. I crouched and looked down the stairs, they weren't there. The little kids in costumes started fighting each other and their moms tried to break them up. A car stopped in the road but someone told it to keep going.

last night I had a dream...(6)

2011-05-22T22:15:00.002-04:00

Last night I had a dream I was in a high school classroom with a young and beautiful stupid female teacher. A kid came into the room and said something to her. I couldn't hear what they were saying. Then she and he went out in the hallway and the class heard them yelling at each other.

"What did he say to her?" I asked.
"He told her this class is a Ponzi scheme," said a boy sitting next to me. He also told me that the kid had been having a rough couple of days and was found earlier with a plastic soda bottle in his mouth, root beer.
The teacher came back into the room and kept talking as the bell rang. The kids crowded around the door and as soon as the bravest kid left they all did.

flash forward

I am walking home from class through Campus Crossings and I hear someone playing guitar in an upstairs apartment. I climb the stairwell, walk inside, and it's my friend Mike.
"You wanna play the (name of guitar I can't remember)?" he asked.
"Yeah, but look, there's this crazy kid walking around there," I said. He was holding a gun and yelling. I tried to look at him without being seen. I thought about dialing 9-1-1, and then I did, but it was the wrong number.

The class was standing in a circle around the crazy kid. I was trying not to look at him and then I did. He saw me looking at him and said "Why is everyone looking at me!"

Then a big van pulled onto the grass and parked. It had large tires and was very heavy duty looking, like an ambulance. The words "Mental Health" were on the side of it. The people in the van got out, opened the door, and the kid got in, no problems. I don't know what happened to the gun.

last night I had a dream...(5)

2011-05-22T21:54:00.000-04:00

last night I had a dream I was in the House of Blues, it wasn't the one in Showboat, but it was in a casino. I left the theater carrying two empty bottles wanting to gamble. I went down an elevator then outside. There were two people standing there.
"How do I get to the casino?" I asked them. They pointed me down a dark city street and told me I would have to walk through New Brunswick. I peered into the abyss. "Is it a long walk?" I asked and they said yes.
Then I went back inside and asked two girls how to get back to the Student Center. They knew the way and we got into the elevator.