help. there is a bar across the street.
they have a raucous karaoke night but tonight
its JAZZ
and right now its a sax jazz rendition of smells like teen spirit.

what?
why.
gordy is trying to knock misc. things over. pill bottles and skrewdrivers.
tonight the kitchen cabinet fell OFF OF THE WALL. only one dish was broken. i wasn't here for it but wow... [too bad i brought my cat here and my landlord had to say this about fai]:
"she black and make neighborhood look bad"
and then when called a rascist:
"i have many puerto rican friends"
but not in astoria.... right?

as fai would say: "afro peruvian: TAKE A RACE CLASS"
she moved to bushwick. i have a sick history with that place including:
getting offered crack
being asked out on a date in which crack smoking would be the seduction stage
obtaining the keys to some guys apartment that i hardly knew back then and then inviting people over while he flew to texas. drinking forties and brushing roaches off me in my sleep.
kissing sabrinz on the cheek after having a stoop talk where we watched the rats mate.

oh man. Smells like teen spirit again after crazy jazzy flutter interlude.
even hitting the high notes.
woosh.


so what do i do? i dont know. keep reading walden and writing crazy short stories that get czech plusses. working and wiping yoghurt out of demz hair? no non ononono
watching HOUSE in bed with my mom while we tell tall tales about neighbors, including deceased ones.
YESSSSSSSSSSs.

Realizing Wits do come from Twits.

I've had a very ritzy and very flowerblossom lifestyle as of recent.
What with the apartment and house hopping and sleeping in odd places, to the excess consumption of all things human: [BRAINS!]
I definitely killed a few brain cells in the process but at least I have a short story set-up now and dontchaknow,
sacrafice [fill in the addendum for those of you with jaws and a tail].

Edward Gorey once said: "I have to write before I draw"
The man is a great source of inspiration for me. I only wish I knew more about him, so I've been reading up and out/over. I ordered some things by him.

Oh, gee whiz. I have a problem. Both of my computers stopped working, mostly. One is just dead- Thats with all my wiritng/writing on it. I looked [hard] at how much those ibook things cost. Holy crap! [A lot of money]. How ridiculous. I need to get one that fell off the back of a truck. Email me if you happened to be standing around and caught it when it fell.

I've bought and mailed some darlin' postcards. All of my friends are now old and wrinkled. you can check my flickr if you don't believe me. Starting another semester at school. It seems more like hustlin' for grades sometimes than learning with a mint leaf as a bookmark.

You get the drawl.
There was quite a bad accident in the spine of newrochelle the other day. Mummorz friend [done] saw the gored body. Today it has come to light that the man was a family friend. [Of someones family, I refuse to believe that we could call this non-cohesive unit "family"- it seems to come with a chuckle. As if we were all pieces of paper and the best glue someone could come up with was tacky glue and all of the sequins have since dissapeared but you can see their mark clearly. That was a pretty long aside, guess the dead body is on my mind completely. Considering its been cremated, that makes sense].

TA.

They're Bloodletting the Foundation

A stronger skin over the wrong side of my heart.
Swinging like a pendulum, the proof is in the metal that clinks under my shirt. Now and
forever, I'll have an addendum that'll deflect the descending ozone [that smokes on the
sidewalks].

A Born Again Warrior of the well worn soles and tied tongued losses.
As despicable as I've found humanity to exhibit- a constant held true before my first
compound sentences- I'm coming around the bend without breaking. [or disolver, revolving,
inverting, converting, this convection] More forgiving? Possibly. More understanding?
Definitely. How about more warped into a coated reality of reading skies while in
conversation? Indeed.

The other night, rain soaked, foreign clothing.
A fogged morning: a new yearded chapped quarter lip, wonky walked Volver
a girl with golden hair
a princess eating soup how we eat
across: a boy who is an underdog
backlog: listing in our wet clothes,
buffer zone blanket fold:

Here today
I kept
the car in gear
chewing on a metrocard
circling the block
because i had to see the way the light was
again
so i wouldnt forget
january second
two thousand seven
--------------------

Extending the kindness of fingertips
to shoulderwings
and blades of running
teeth across the edge of
beckoned glass.

There with a blackened dollar bill
the street signs blur.
Fanning blocks of loose change,
wandering above poverty lines.

Smiles farther now, because there is
work i need to get under the first layer of the skin
below the artery of
my right wrist or
whatever gets palest when my lips go blue
for the first time
by name.
-----------
I never actually made a checklist. I never really needed to.