Monthly Archives: December 2007

ifn the weather isn’t the best–happy new year

Aside from the hooting fellow and the bits of feedback off his voice, the sound here is good and man this is a pretty song. I’m going to celebrate what will hopefully be the start of a better year. Hope you (all 4 of you) are brought closer to where you need to be in the obstacle course of ’08



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in the spate

and knocking. one eye (aye!) twitches on its edge and continual. this because
clause is not set off with a comma. this twitch has its own concerns, not my vision or distort, distory.
as the hours are smitten with turn
incomplete second. talk about forded swing. like the people list of names just tied. very close to pretty good-may be cross-listed with women
whose hands are washing off bacteria. with unconscious precision they make water noiseless, and make wet the basin.
A news program man said that there are more great fires now and no one mentions war without thinking of a man in an office or walking out of a locker room or in a shiny uniform. it’s not as important
to consider what missing limbs or dysplasia contorts the shift-addled mind.
the men and women who come back from the places the television
tells us might be getting better.
Just the new year’s fuzz covered cap–the bullets still know where they’re going
and babies still get new teeth and keep being born
because life is full of promises and this clause has no need to be set off
as dependant or promoted by advertising

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conti: combustible on the inside

it’s really you?
yes, it’s really me. really.

So the time has come where I can say I’m almost about to be able to think again, freely. There are a handful of weeks where this luxury is afforded me and what usually happens is

What are you blanketing about, or blanking? why can it be that the coffee stains and the upholsterer are not ever in the same room together. Its outcoming like a weathervane. It’s an outcome to be considerate about, and something to hold your tongue for in public.

Once while sitting with 3 other people at a restaraunt I forgot how to talk and then afterwards how to eat. My food arrived and I smiled at it, figeting. A napkin on my lap, the glass of water very friendly and at a comfortable distance. There was noise coming from the mouths of my companions. It was very dark outside. A wonder any of our senses worked at all.

The cost of Christmas trees: $125 on Broadway above the hundreds. The cost of Christmas trees: a large steak knife and determination in penn’s woods.

What means of this, discrepancy?
Oh, so really, you’d like a conversation? Noblesse Oblige.

Tomorrow is the last of my paperswimming. I will order a hat full of beer and still have to pay for it. Seriously though, I’m going to be able to carry on a conversation without telling people that “I have to ____.” My most common response regarding social and political engagement. This and next week, with handfuls of serious contempt I will wander among the madly shopping throngs and attempt to make wise gift choices for the coming exchange. I really wished I knew what people wanted, or what would make them feel like I knew something about them that most people don’t. Though maybe that’s just the Ebay commercials that have been on all day seeping into the old noggin. They say it’s the thought that counts, but what if you think wrongly about someone, as I’m often prone to doing? It may not be drastically wrong, but wrong enough. Say you have a friend who has allergies to a certain type of animal. You might give that person a picture of the allergy-animal in hopes that their comfort with it in picture form may lead to an eventual change in body chemistry so that they become magically unallergic over time due to their sustained proximity to the picture. A picture to be placed by their bedside, say. And when it’s received, none of this information passes between gift giver, and gift receiver so there’s a serious mistrust of judgement regarding any further interaction these two people might have. Well, maybe not that drastic. But what about giving a blender to someone who only eats baked goods that are handed to them over a countertop. And what about receiving gifts, like clothing? What do these things say to us about what people think we are? You have to love those notorious aunt hand me down sweaters. What we can become in others eyes, only their cranked up head engines can know. Oh the weather outside is perfect for that hand stitched reindeer antler hat I got for you last year, yeah the one with all of the fiberoptic lights.

And what in hell do you buy for your parents, especially when you actually like them? Someone needs to come up with a giftcard you can use anywhere. Oh, wait that’s money. Who really likes getting money over a well thought out gift?

A question to you, then. What is the best gift you’ve received from someone else? You can do a ranking of sorts if you’d like. I’ve put away my distrust of numbers for the time being.


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