Monthly Archives: January 2007
rock me like you never did before.
Dragons, themselves, are uniformed and common phenomena. Their inherent plurality is decidedly individuated: what connects one to another is not a lake of fire or bloodline or even what we’d call genetic trifling. Heirlooms with dragons on them, on the other hand, are very sparse. People have been viciously slandered and eventually bedridden because of a family fuse blown over granny’s dragon drawn rolltop desk or great uncle Theodocious’s dragon wall clock–the one with the tail that ticks off the hours. You know.
If your man ain’t jealous, I declare, he got an evil mind.
The last recorded encounter with a living dragon occured on the Isle of Mann in 1764. The seas were high and unforgiving. 17 men on their way out to sea for an 8 week fishing excursion encountered what they thought to be a series of small boulders on the coast. It had not been there three days earlier when they moored their boat and headed inland for supplies. There are no drawings and not a man among them could accurately describe how the thing moved when it finally did.
You should have been there last night and heard what the big dipper said.
In the particular instance of St. George, there are varying reports. The most interesting being the one that was turned into a house by Antonio Gaudi. How he turned the story into a livable abode happens to be unexplainable in and of itself, but it’s there in Barcelona accosting the locals and pilgrims alike. His version has steel bars over the eyes, which are windows and the scales are the roof and I don’t know where the sword comes in.
One guy I know thinks he’s hard to get along with.
1 black IKEA $6 lamp, off.
1 astrological paperweight, 12 sided.
1 1/4″ headphone jack.
2 blue post it notes with the names of blues artists written on them
1 fortune stating “Don’t kiss an elephant on the lips today. Lucky Numbers …”
1 Leatherman in leather case, appropriately.
1 Talladega Nights Schniglet.
2 letters from Stephen Failla Jr.
3 tags from a Le Tigre jacket, received in the mail.
3 W-2 forms.
1 computer screen.
1 pile of bills paid.
1 two year old pack of winterfresh gum.
1 clear plastic ruler.
2 harmonicas (key of G and key of A).
1 rubber and miniature hand with numbered accupuncture points.
1 civil war bullet.
1 canoe race silver medal.
1 buffalo head nickel.
innumerable stacks of paper.
12 pens of varying color and width.
5 packs of matches.
2 unfilled prescriptions.
It’s sunday and this is nostalgia:
and empty entrance into another form of life, something like pouring a glass of water. The glass before, the glass after.
I’m watching the Bears and Saints play and it’s a pretty solid game. Snow’s coming down and the Bears can’t do anything on the ground and the Saints are looking like they should pull away if they don’t turn the ball over in the second half, but we’ll see about that. If Grossman can pull his shit together, then it’ll be another story.
I’m coming to believe that I have too many Ryan Adams albums–this will be my small confession. He’s entirely too productive. I guess that’s not a fault, but something that sets me a bit green. This could also be reinforced by the fact that he reminds me somewhat of my ex-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend. Hmm. Embedded truths have a weird way of nudging their way to the surface of one’s consciousness. In the middle of complete distraction, you could recognize them and then lose them as readily. It’s funny how few things are ever really over.
The itunes library is incrementally growing, currently in alphabetical order and album by album. It’s much faster work than it was on that ancient machine I had been running, but still takes a goodly amount of time. There is a stack of books sitting next to me that is just above knee high that I need to pour over and pull poems from, but distractions set themselves about me like pigeons on a wire. And I rarely do anything to scatter them.
How in hell did Berrian come down with that ball? Jesus marimba! The Saints are giving the game away. It’s official. It’s also good to know that my life is mine again. I don’t rightly know when it went away from me, or when I pressed pause, but I’m beginning again to know the glass that started this and what’s being poured.
A pearl of wisdom from an old hashed conversation in college with J.B.:
“I feel like life is a glass of that’s full of the past. I keep drinking it down.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“But where does it go? I just keep swallowing and don’t know where it goes.”
“Well it’s in us, I guess.”
This is nostalgia: One day we’ll all dig together.
For better or worse and whatever the hell that could mean. The glass before, the glass after.
The high lines of the train rumble overhead and water is coming on like it were fauceted, but the weather forecast says rolling stones gather at the bottom of a hill where everything they touched also gathers.
On the television two men beat on each other until they’re bloody and afterwards a man cracks jokes about the day’s events. The mail came and in it another name to be assumed, a girl’s name that sounds familiar. Cigarettes are snuggled in their packs and sold. There are too many people here and they don’t notice each other. A bottle of Coke costs two dollars. Only some of this is the matter.
The floor needs attention. Needy floor, sticky in spots. Watch out for this, and step carefully around puddles.
Step around carefully. Puddles. Isn’t that a dog’s name?
The joke goes like this: nobody gets it.
sewing the gaps and plus. absolve continuous dramamine consumption. to do: listed like the curb and channel. here a guide, there an animal in people’s clothes, and over there a little plastic phone to talk to. please refer to the future installment language on the back of this statement where the names of the lost are gathering. a mouthful of water, the body in training. there an aboslute conviction, here a crumpled newspaper. both printed under scrutiny, itself.
assign the topic and terms of your agreement. rough cut. cheeks ballooning and air that evacuates, a sound like water. to talk and talk with needles, a cut of fabric. the garden plants need tending. here a formica countertop, there a wispy t-shirt. the people gather their undergarments to hang and cry. the future is speaking accrual, a body of water in training. over there a little plastic bottle to sign away with motion.