Monthly Archives: January 2010

Your Wreck, Painted

In the frothy grey mornings I sip
life through a straw
last night’s rain opens doors to worlds in the pavement.
My own carpet is the widest continent.
The pilgrims who casually stride
inside glance at only white walls.
They cannot see
how I have painted your wreck with my fingers
and just as often asleep. Continue reading


Time machines & brain washes

Yesterday I was invited to go on a hike with some friends. It was the exact, brilliant, glove fit perfect activity to do on a typical Thursday with nothing else to do besides, say, watching LOST all day. The day before, I had gone to the beach alone. Planned for six hours. Went for three. Why? My alarm did not go off. This was okay though, because I went by myself and the nice thing about going someplace alone is that when you do, almost always, you don’t need to meet anyone else. Continue reading

A Casual Haunt

Square of a house, white and shone with a varnish coat
Oiled and gleaming, it’s boards creak,
shacked together on the grass of tall weed and the untouched.
Surrounded by long decks on every side,
like the brim of a straw garden hat,
made of slim boards and eggshell paint.
It drinks the dark plum wine of the dying sky,
the house being something-white each day.
Ruby white, roasted honeysuckle white, broomdust white or a glinting spear
Dark plum wine white, but never itself.
Tonight there is soft music easing out the open doors
and onto the breezy patios
a haze of anonymous invitation.
Inside, the cherrywood floor opens throats
along with warm champagne, and the bulbs on strings.
Treading ‘round chairs in a row
a white eggshell row, thinly scattered
the humming gaily scattered thick like haze.
I step outside, now a purple darkness
sipping a spirit of some auburn hue
while vision decomposes with the layered light remains.
I walk the halls, now a vault of shadows.
Orange flickers in corners, with the peppy murmuring.
Cobwebs of remote bliss
from the main room
or red planets.
I stare down the gauntlet hallway of darkening doors,
the void swallows with a proud greed.
Now a child appears in the hall
with the face of a wolf. A mask.
Strapped. In the gaping hall, the figure stands
tilting it’s lupine head.
I am trying this door
I am judging the windows.
The knob will not turn.
The merry sounds will keep billowing out of stained lips
drowning out cries and rumors of cries
until the fire I spy on the plain
finds them.

Oh Look, A Favorite Albums of the Year List

This is long because I was very bored while everyone was studying for finals, and 2009 has been a good year for music. So much so that I actually listened to about a third of all the albums that I wanted to get to. I also recently exposed myself to more ambient-drone-noise atmospheric music this year, so some entries on this list will be decidedly not Billboard top 100 material, or even Billboard any-number on their list in a thousand million years. Also, if this is too long for you to read, please listen to anything by Carney, and Over The Rhine’s Christmas Album. They didn’t even come out this year, but tough luck, what you have read cannot be unseen. Continue reading


-There was this game we used to play. One day it just appeared, completely unannounced like waking up to find a new boat in your garage. It had a name, something having to do with insects I think, and oh man! It was revolutionary for it’s time. The graphics were colored with hundreds of hues and all in real time three dimensional first person point of view RPG style, the artistry was dripping off of every pixel. Bugdom. That’s what it was called. I can’t remember what it was about exactly, but you were some kind of ant or a small person or something, and you had to jump on things and get points and avoid large millipedes or worms or other flying horrors with exoskeletons and you could pass one level and advance to the next and it was absolutely thrilling. New terrains and obstacles and color schemes and flora and fauna! It was the it thing. People would finish their typing lessons early to play it in class, and everyone would try to take the computers facing away from the teacher in that small room to play it while doing Type 2 Learn (a program which, ultimately, taught me nothing. The trophy for getting my WPM beyond single digits belongs to the honorable Mavis Beacon. I think. Maybe not. Typing for me just kind of happened. Maybe it was Jesus Christ.) The room was outlandishly small, smaller than any room that you fit humans in would normally be, at least in America. But the ceiling was high. It was a weird room. A rare and unusual lego piece that they stuck in the boonies corner of the school. It was very out of the way from all the other classes. You had to cross three hallways and corridors to this small little annex into the computer lab closet hybrid, blessedly air conditioned and lit with an odd yellowish light that made it seem like a sort of photography dark room where strange and contraband experiments are conducted. News of it spread to the student body in no more that a week. Everybody played it. The only problem was that there were just a few computers in the lab, so you had to finish your lunch early to have time enough to get a spot. I had my hours in and moved my way past level one and eventually two by screenpeeking my neighbors who obviously were more of the chronic game playing type than I was. Sometimes I would be killed or whatever happened that made you lose and I’d have to restart to the beginning and I’d feel like punching something. Something with a hard thin exterior and disgusting pulpy insides. Like an old pumpkin maybe. I’d demolish it with my digital induced rage.

-My progress was slowly improving, until someone discovered something big. A cheat code. A password that allowed you to go to any level. You just type it in and a textbox pops up and you enter the level you want. Amazing! People’s screens were exploding with entirely new worlds and creatures. I asked for the password. Why not, I thought, everybody was giving it away to everybody. They refused to tell it to me, these people. It was not a contest, this game, it was all individual enjoyment, all to relish the scenery and be immersed in the bugdom. Free love! In elementary school, coolness is a valid currency. All the cool kids cheated for each other and spread the password around like value pack candy. Happily offering with or without being asked first. For me though, I got a disgusted look, like I had asked them for a severed ear, basted in crap. An absolute freak request. “What??? No way! Are you kidding? Just do it normal, don’t cheat!” It was outrageous, completely without sense or sympathy. It was pausing at your birthday party to slap a baby in the face. So there they were, everyone, frolicking about wherever they wanted in Bugdom. Having their effortless fun which they, for some reason, chose to keep from me. It was theirs, they owned it. They looked up the website on their wealthy internet access privileges through blood sweat and refrigerated soda and they didn’t want it in the hands of some filthy little momma’s boy who wore stupid cotton vests in the third grade. Not a snowballs chance in hell.

-So eventually I gave up and did other things with my time, like finding real bugs. Sometimes my favorite spots would get stepped on by the other boys and girls who knew that it was just not cool to look at bugs, stupid- unless! … unless you are doing it with cool people of course of course, but nobody could take away the whole world from me. They’d have to kill me, those kids, with their fat clumsy children hands. It wouldn’t happen. There was no way. There was no way they could take the whole world.