The Sharp D.Kline

Rundown.

2012-02-04T16:14:00.000-08:00

Ah, the rub and the rustle.

The Grind and the gird.

The time thief,

Noble Busyness,

This business.

Full sentences don't always contain a verb and a noun; Sometimes they are just full.

Eczema.

2012-01-31T00:20:00.000-08:00

Scattershot. If that's not a transformer it should be. I wouldn't know. Not the type for research, and missed Transformers somehow; I'm very good at TV, this is unusual.

Leads us to one inference. Transformers sucks in execution, but conceptually, exceptional. Perhaps it was only designed for those toys. A firetruck that turns into a Robot? Amazing. It puts out fires and is built our lord's image.

Religion. That's why I don't like Transformers. Admittedly, I put that there. Injected a hot shot of God into that cartoon. But like most things I make up, they're probably true.

It's like that mid 90's movie with that kid that got a drug problem or started proselytizing in his 20's, in the nowsies. You know, that one movie. That one that probably exists. Oh, I'm doing it again:
Being right without trying.

So, I've amassed quite the twitter following. And this is my real voice now, not the ravings of madman or madmin. I went to high school with Malcolm Madmin; Swell fellow, but unfortunately exceeding racist. Unprecedentedly racist. Racists looked at him and thought, "I don't know man, Santa's alright with me."

Below you'll find my slapshot to victory. My shots on goal that posted world wide have gained me acclaim. A place to rest my words when my mouth just can't be trusted. A sanctuary for the misguided thoughts of an eleven year old twenty-six year old. Read on and trust the stitchery of a noted seamer (the masculized form of seamstress).

I've made a mask out of the skin of our past, like the zeitgeist. Like I killed a bunch of zeitgeists and made a mask of out their skin, but it's a sort of ghost skin, so you can't tell I'm wearing it. It's not creepy. It's a metaphor. It's a creepy metaphor.

Twit:

they full of sour piss and ice cream and

impocompetance

i want you to know that i 've eaten all of the cheese that could be had at this of all hours.

Never begin an ending with Chet Pasternak.

one more year has passed like a turd from an ass.

The wires are visible even from 100 yards.

the science of Cerberus.

surf city.

I had one of those mid-winter bikini adventure dreams.

what do people do in offices all day long.

It's a phone brosanne, it's going to work.

Reason number a hindered why I hate naps!

I will eat your family and crap up your living room.

in hell it was acres of breasts and boobs of every sort as far as the eye could see; heaven, awash with the foreskins of young children.

love is for people who don't pay attention to the messes they make.

Poor child actors will be the death of me.

it's just me n the catslcoatl.

i hope about supermans.

I don't care when famous people die. It's like quoting. I hate quoting.

A question can be a statement if it's an insult.

And onward:

Our mediums have changed, and there's perhaps too much power given to paper. Perhaps too little. I've always thought that if you didn't want someone to destroy something you've created, you should build it so that they can't. Like, I could write my message on the moon, but I can't get a coherent message coalesced out of the coal. It's like were hunting for diamonds in a mine, and the mine collapses, and we survive just long enough to adapt due to radiation and a bunch of food and growth hormones in that food that nobody knew about, and so like six hours later we don't need to breathe oxygen.

Lucky us, our metaphor changes from luxury resource to adaptation. But a metaphor needs to have a point. One thing I'll never do is be the type of person who hides inside of anxiety in what I say and do.

Wring my hands. Shit, they dry as bone. I have eczema. But seriously, who doesn't these days.

-DMK

A strange and unusual feeling.

2012-01-11T16:20:00.001-08:00

Something happened to me recently.
My brain turned back on,
But I have some worries:
Why was it off?
How long has it been?
Where's the switch and why was it flipped?

I feel like I'm 12 again.
It used to feel like I was smartest when I was in Fourth Grade.
It was a sharp decline.

And I had this issue;
It's that I don't feel the need to write when I'm feeling good.
There's no need to exhale.
Just one long breath that never runs out.

So now, I embark on a new task.
How am I,
When I'm feeling happy.
I think I can use that word now.
I'm boldly going.

1

2012-01-10T02:25:00.000-08:00

I'm worried about how happy I am.
I used that word in the way there are different shades of white.
I'm eggshell.
Then there's bleach white.
I guess, it's like science.

Power

2011-12-06T19:16:00.001-08:00

The insistence of naming objects is perhaps an unwarranted assertion of power over objects in an attempt to increase our domain. To take this to the extreme would require innumerable and mutable names for everything we encounter, or to name nothing at all. All of these three choices, which I have framed and created the false choice between, are a different sort of power. I leave naming aside and choose framing, through which a window is created, and of course the illusion of the window is that it allows insight into what would be a wall. In fact, the window actually obscures everything it doesn't reveal. What right does the window, and inferred wall have? Why have we chosen to view this metaphor in a two dimension space, when it actually doesn't represent space at all, but ideas, things without mass, time, dimension, or duration.

Status.

2011-11-29T19:16:00.000-08:00

And some days your muscles are on fire, the bones probably embers, like coal burning beneath the ground producing heat.

There is perhaps no obscenity, only obscene people, who take affront to the unabashed freedoms of others, the right to express oneself in a manner most comfortable and fitting. Piss and cock.

Instead of saying, uhg blug rain shmain, we celebrate the sun's unique and rare appearances as nuanced art celibre. And taken further we see intermittent gaps in the frequency of rain as entirely novel occurrences that need our complete attention, with our eyes and ears and dance muscles.

Post Expressionism.

2011-11-26T19:20:00.000-08:00

If I had a chapbook, it'd be called "For I am your New God," and on the inverse side of the chapbook, that meaning flipped both over and left to right, "The Year that I broke my Leg." I read someone's thoughts who recently expressed the curiosity, lifelong curiosity, wondering what exactly it feels like to brake their arm. I am not alone. But these titles represent a duality in my life, in which I vacillate between feelings of supremacy and down and out-ness.

Perhaps you think it's something like a manic state. You might be right. But of course I'm exaggerating for effect. But all I'm saying is that some days I can eat 12 pies and win replays at pinball, and some mornings the coffee does nothing and my bicycle legs are frozen meats.

Our bodies, our problems.

2011-11-26T13:03:00.000-08:00

I don't know what was medically wrong with this woman's arm, but one was about double the size of the other. It felt like pure fat. How does that happen to just one arm? She was blissfully unaware, and extremely cranky.

And I asked a drunk man to leave us alone at a dive bar when we were playing pool, and he didn't take the hint, so I put my arm around his shoulder and we had a talk. I regretted the way his back was made of cottage cheese curds the size of large marbles. It felt like moth-eaten tofu covered in skin. Like the clay wasn't let to dry properly and bubbles found their way out, and bursting on the surface left craters in the jello.

How does a body get like that?

Cursingive

2011-11-25T18:00:00.001-08:00

I started signing my name, David, with an exclamation point, because fuck you, look at me go. David! And it's in all capitals, and I never learned all of the cursive letters. Gradually, I've forgetten every single letter form. Unlike the phoenix memory, these uniquely unvaluable systems, cursive letterforms, forced upon us like some keymaster to the adult world, I never want to return. And and and and as I've gotten older I've gotten more and more and more and more and more tourettic and obsessive and I've got to focus on myself. And so like books are an escape in which I need pictures and when I'm reading nobody is looking at me, and nobody will give me a job with books and it's your fault, but is it really mine. Compromise. I should do that. And they taught me stream of consciousness and I taught them Ayn Rand sucks.

internal frame

2011-11-23T11:00:00.001-08:00

Because there's no delay for sight and sound anymore,
now that we've fingered the heavy feeling of
importance
brought on by the feltching significance
self-imposed
of a sunrise
or a landscape
and we've put our friends in front of it,
a row of heads at about the same level,
ruining every shot,
who took the picture
why should I care about the diminished importance of the scene,
too big to frame.

No./

2011-11-19T20:34:00.000-08:00

I stopped saying the pledge of allegiance in elementary school,
and quit the cub scouts a few years later.

GOD.

And I think it's totally
fucked-up
that we still cut the skin off a baby's dick
for made up reasons.
That's not yours.

I wouldn't wear a table cloth for the promotion ceremony
in preschool.
That shit looked really lame,
and so did everyone who chose to wear it.
Or did they even realize they had a choice.

And there was no turning back.

Beliefs.

2011-11-19T20:19:00.001-08:00

There was a movement towards programs like"This I Believe" for a while. What is is that makes you, you? What, at your core, are your central beliefs?

Damn.

I've never been able to answer that. What don't I believe in; No Sasquatch, God, or any sort of magic. That sort of bullshit. I don't believe in that. But, if it's a constructivist idea they're hitting at, shit. I don't know what I believe in. Do I believe in anything?

Mem

2011-11-16T20:28:00.000-08:00

Who's to say what forgetting is,
or when something is forgotten.
Isn't there always the chance that it'll come back?
The phoenix memory.

Confess.

2011-11-14T13:58:00.000-08:00

In a comic book you sometimes see a character yell some empty quotation marks:

Or how about what Batman whispers in the ears of criminals who won't confess
something like, where they've hidden the orphans.

I like to imagine what he's saying.
To be more accurate
I sometimes hallucinate, waking with one thought in my head;
I'm going to remove all of your skin.

Oh, so that's what Batman says.

Or maybe he flips it on them.
"Where are the orphans?"

And then in whisper,
"Why are the orphans?"

Or maybe
" !"
which I imagine to be heavy breathing,
or something like when you look a dog in the eyes
and blow air down their nose.

More Bragging, Please! 1/25

2011-11-14T13:34:00.000-08:00

I beat the world to Christmas
by playing Feliz Navidad
on October 28th,

Subsequently,
I found a way to get back to Halloween
by singing loudly, Monster Bash
on All Saints Day.

But what they don't know,
Is that I've been ready for my Birthday
since my birthday
last year.

Or as I call it:
Second Christmas, Just for me.

Scandal, Featuring Patty Smyth.

2011-11-09T20:21:00.000-08:00

I have some pretty rude things to say to you
____________ (indefinite person of the world)
and for various reasons I have decided not to say them.
___________, I don't appreciate your smile.
I don't see a willing resistance in your eyes, that says,
Man, fuck this.
You're too nice __________ (indefinite and kind individual).
Did you never grow a thick skin? Where are your put-ons?
Show me a front, or else I worry that __________, is going to have a really hard time,
Unless everything goes as planned.
You look like a fresh one, no soured complexion. No bits missing.
Uhg. Without an edge, what's the point.
A piece of clay that, because it hasn't been cooked all the way, can't be broken.
And because it can't be broken, can't cut back. Just some mush. Now, please.
Find your mold and take shape.
I'm not a metaphor. Wordsmyth.

The W Dead

2011-11-09T20:19:00.000-08:00

Watching The Walking Dead, I thought that maybe it was an expression of Bede's parable, taken beyond the great hall. It never gets better. And perhaps, symbolically, the dead walk. If you leave the great hall, you enter a place that doesn't get better, and where the dead walk. I don't know. But I'm pretty sure I'm smarter than you.

Mental Masturbation.

Bede

2011-11-09T20:16:00.000-08:00

And I was thinking the other day about Bede's Parable,
and I don't care if I remembered it right.
Bede's says something along the lines of

Life and the world as we know it exists inside a great hall.
That hall is the universe.
Outside that hall is everything else,
But it's dark, and we can't see out.

It's a metaphor for life and death, and perceptions.

Alternative Titles By

2011-10-24T18:22:00.000-07:00

I Lost my Gary Fisher (Gresham)

2011/10.24,
4:02PM PDT

I lost my Gary Fisher Bike at MHCC
I locked it up at 12:50 P.M.
and when I came back at
3:00 PM on Friday and I notice
that the bike and the lock was not there
It's a Blue and yellow Gary fisher bike

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

While I did not write the above, I take it from Craigslist and submit it as poetry.

We see that the author, unnamed, has lost something dear. This reader knows that Gary Fisher refers to a bicycle, but do all readers know that? If a reader is unaware, it may be assumed that Gary Fisher is a man, which he is. This is a letter of loss, and for some readers, it is an eulogy alternatively "Gresham."

What does "Gresham" symbolize to the author? Does it allow for a place of rest for the deceased, or is it the scene of the trauma?

Notice the disjunction of the lines "and when I came back at /3:00 PM on Friday and I notice / that the bike and the lock was not there(.)" This could suggest the jaggedness which this trauma has caused in the author's day, or narrative. There is conspicuously no punctuation throughout this work, this could represent a malaise or feeling of confusion, being lost in the theft of this "Gary Fisher."

Finally, the work ends on such a banal note that the reader is left to question all of our fleeting responses to loss. What will we remember? Blue and yellow. Colors. It's strange how memory is so visual, and how it was cold to the touch, or smelled like bananas are not left behind. The author asks us to question what we will leave behind. Blue and yellow.

I'm getting older too.

2011-10-16T12:20:00.000-07:00

If some boys don't say "I love you," it's not their faults or for lack of hugging between the ages of 3 and 14. It's kind of funny is one of the sadder ways to open a sentence. It's kind of funny, no it isn't. It's kind of funny that I don't say "I love you." It's kind of funny that it isn't. There wasn't even a lack of hugging. It's like new pairs of eyes, and oh, my god; your green is so much better and these yellows are barely there at all. How do you live like this? And nobody told me that at 25 I'd get stronger everyday just from doing the things I do everyday.

Wrong.

2011-10-15T00:28:00.000-07:00

Job interviews, terrible things.
We're never asked to judge people that way.
Not only do I hope they won't make the wrong choice, we know they will.
There isn't a union for unemployed people.
Terribly rare things,
That happen all the time.
On TV and movies,
To our handsome friends with square jaws
And regular shaped brains.
Eating regular cars
And getting paper bags at the grocery store everytime.
What are errands?
I don't think I've ever, run one.
I like going to the bank, and the post office.
I think I might get rid of my car,
Not for political reasons.

It's not nice to say,
It will get better.

Upset but not afraid.

2011-10-15T00:22:00.000-07:00

For how afraid of heights,
I am,
I do an awfully lot of height oriented things.
No, I don't care to list them.
And for how much I really don't care for the Beatles,
I do work in a bar named after their song.
And for how much I like working with the people I work with
I don't want to do that.
And for how scared I am of everything,
I'm not scared of other things.
Small spaces
The Dark
I even had a serious crash on my bicycle recently.
I was never scared.
I thought I might have broken my nose.
I was upset, but not afraid.

The pigs.

2011-10-11T00:28:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when I'm far from home, my heart skips a beat.
It's not a metaphor. Ka-chunk!
It's parenthetical. (Ka-chunk!)

How do you shout an aside without the other characters knowing?
Are they frozen in time, or just frozen?

It doesn't scare me.
Don't worry.

And I had my first vertigo, recently.
It's the logical step in the fear of heights.
Courage is a masculo-protochristian construct.

It's alright if we get low for awhile.

It was.

2011-10-09T04:04:00.000-07:00

"We disregard the fact"
and
"You know, it's funny."
are my favorite
phrases
that hide
the hidden saddeness
in language.

And the weird thing is,
I feel pretty good today.

P - O

2011-10-09T03:58:00.001-07:00

You gotta grease them boots up
And although you choose
To polish and shine,
Then mink up those boots.

Keeping Leather Vegan

Was out then from the start.
I assume that mink oil,
Made from minks?
It was a bonding experience,
Right Dad?

I'd never polished a shoe before
And this is my first pair of man boots.

Assembling a style,
And when does a costume become
You.

over _____

2011-10-08T18:11:00.000-07:00

I brought waxed paper,

we're all a little too ____

so,
when the dip comes
you're going to feel it.

And the ride is going to be over
______ ___ you expected.

Power in Objects.

2011-10-08T17:56:00.000-07:00

Power in Objects.
I think it's called fetishism,
That's how I explained it to someone the other day.

i.e.
A fetish, non-sexual;
Religious connotation,
Outsider imposed, western dictæt.

Meaning in the Doing,
I think it's called post-modernism.

i.e.
Ritual meaning;
How to take a photo,
Not of your friends, it draws attention to our happiness,
And lessens our notions of temporal modality.

We're not happy all the time,
But it's how we got there that matters.

Overlap.

2011-10-01T13:09:00.000-07:00

I don't smoke cigarettes for a few reasons,
but if I'm being honest here,
It's because I hate the feel of paper,
An odd thing for someone who majored in English,
And seems to be some ardent defender of the
Outmoded Aesthetic.

But, it's specific;
The paper on cigarettes is too dry.
Like a napkin.
Ye Gods.
I hate napkins.
But when people ask me why I don't like cloth napkins,
I don't know why.
Because not only do I hate paper,
Paper Napkins,
I hate napkins.
It's ok to have these things overlap.

Remember?

2011-09-20T23:14:00.002-07:00

Of course I remember.
I just have trouble articulating
Everything that matters,
And not everything that doesn't.

(I probably _____ you if I'm still here.)

Remember?

2011-09-20T23:14:00.001-07:00

No,
I don't,
And I'm not sorry.
This isn't a new thing.

Use a Colon here.

2011-09-20T23:04:00.000-07:00

What different bikes feel like. (No, I'd really prefer to use a period and not a colon here.)

One is bigger and faster and lighter and someone called me a pejorative when I was riding it the other day and it bothered me, because it was actually like 3 weeks ago and I just referred to it as the other day.

One is green and out of date and I thought it might be too small, but it's probably not. The other might be too big, it's also the only one I've crashed recently, not the one that's too small, the one that's too big.

One is broken because I tried to fix it but I ride it anyway and it used to have two speeds but now it only has one. It was the most complex thing that I have ever broken that I feel pretty bad about breaking but that I could still probably fix.

One is really dumb, but I had a good time on it riding the broken one next to it.

One is two bikes that one was trying to replace but is now not put together(s) because I got real frustrated-like and bought one that might be a little too big and I crashed recently, and I've still got some scars to show from it and I might have been at a strip club that night but don't tell anyone unless they think that's intriguing and that I'm not the type of person they'd expect to have that sort of experience.

One is a mountain bike that I've had for a long time, and I saw Gary Fisher too who's name is the brand of it.

Remember?

2011-09-20T23:03:00.000-07:00

No,
I don't remember.

I'm sorry.

2011-09-20T23:01:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when you complain about your problems,
People say,
Well you've actually had it pretty good,
Which is true.
But you know what.
I know.
Can you just say I'm sorry,
Instead?

Letter of Disappointment

2011-09-20T22:17:00.000-07:00

And that concludes our interview: Is there anything else you'd like to add, or any questions you have about the position?

First of all, thank you for your time. Thank you for the time you took to not only respond to my application to this position, to even acknowledge it initially with an automatically generated email, and then to call me into an interview, and to the email I will inevitably get after this interview which informs me that, unfortunately we've filled the position, and that again, unfortunately, it was an extremely difficult decision, you've chosen someone else. Someone more qualified. Someone who seemed a little "safer," mostly only because they had that innate middle of the road, has already been teaching for 5 years and statistically people who can make it 5 years can make it forever factor, we've chosen him. And it is probably a him, because this is a high school position, and although female teachers can be great, we just feel that men are more reliable. Of course we know you're a man, but not the right sort. So thank you for your time.

That aside, I do have some questions. But first, I'd like to say a few things. I know you have some great candidates here. The field is competitive, which to me seems terrible. Education isn't competition. Oops. It probably is. Anyway, it's not when I do it. I hope not. I try my best.

I know I'm young. But now that I've been out of teaching school for close to two years, and definitely two years since I've been in a classroom, as a teacher, I know you've got questions. Can he still do it? But, to be fair, I bet 2 years ago your questions would have been along the lines of, can he do it? He seems so young. Well, I'm not that young anymore, and if you read my references, you'll see I actually did it pretty damn well. Actually, I think I did it better than most people. As my references say, I did it better than most people. Did I mention that you should read my references. I'm pretty sure I mentioned it. I'm pretty sure you didn't read my references.

You know, I've always been baffled by people who make judgements upon meeting people, and I've also read about how statistically, psychologically, interviewers typically make the wrong choice. And no, I can't back this up with anything, because I read and internalize everything. It's out there in the ether, please, trust me. The point here is that not only do I hope you won't make the wrong choice, I know you will.

So, what I wanted to say, and no I don't have any questions is that, the implications of not just this interview and subsequent rejections to this position is unfortunately one more step to me never being a teacher. A paid teacher. But luckily, alongside my English Major, my Masters of Education, my teaching credential, I learned to be a person. Well, really I always was. I learned a lot of things. I learned how to learn. I pursued my hobbies. And I feel like I've become pretty well rounded, and by become I mean always was. Everyone is a whole person.

If teaching doesn't work out, like it won't I have other interests. I could explain them, but I'll withhold, I really am disappointed. I'm sorry, if you'd like to pursue this conversation you'll have to find me outside the realm of education. I'll be turning my back, with a bit of anger and frustration. Hopefully I'll turn that into something positive for my community. I am not optimistic about my future in education, but I am hopeful. If you find that either soon, or in the distant future you have a need for me in this field, I may be available.

Please, be aware that I cannot wait indefinitely. In twenty years I might be a successful something or other. Again, because of my resentment, I really have chosen to withhold my interests. While, I won't push aside my frustrations, I hope you can understand how disappointing it can be to be trained for something, to love something, and to be ignored.

I'm disappointed. At this point, I'd like to ask that you at least acknowledge a new letterwriting form. Epistles, missives. The disappointment genre. The letter of disappointment. Please, do not confuse this with a letter of resignation from education. My abilities, my commitment, my willingness to participate; these have not diminished. I am disappointed. This is a letter to outline some basic reasons for that sentiment.

Thank you for your time.

-D M Kline.

Plaid.

2011-09-20T01:01:00.000-07:00

Wearing grids.
When I was younger
And more formidable
Because I was playing
Grand Theft Auto 3
I made my guy
Because I was bored
With the gameplay,
Clothes be changed.

Wearing grids,
It's a wraparound color change.
A wholly different sort of color scheme.

You could plot a line graph.

Apricots.

2011-08-18T03:45:00.000-07:00

I hope you like apricots,
Because
You'd really have to like apricots
to like these apricots.

I hope you like apricots
because
these apricots are terrible,
and
you'd really have to like apricots
to like these apricots.

I hope you like apricots
because these apricots
are terrible,
and you'd really
have to like
apricots
to like these
apricots.

I hope you like apricots
because these apricots are terrible
and you'd really have to like apricots
to like these apricots
to like these apricots.

You, I hope,
like apricots.
These apricots are terrible,
and you'd really have to like apricots
to like these apricots.

Apricots.
I hope you like them.
You'd really have to
to like these.

Apricots:
You, I hope, like them.
You'd really to too,
to like these
apricots.

These apricots are terrible
All apricots are terrible.
I hope you like
these terrible apricots.

Apricot is the french word for terrible peach.
What's a nectarine.
That's not a question.
Watch your fucking mouth.

Apricot?
Isn't that the french word for love,
the terrible peach.
Of course,
If I still remembered french
I'd say it in french,
the terrible peach.

Apricot?
Isn't the french word of love,
Apricot?
Of course,
I still remember french.
Now let's wet this wick.

Apricot.
The terrible word for french love.
It's like french kissing,
except,
well I'm not sure.
Probably vaginas.

Baby,
I hope you like these apricots.
Because apricots are terrible,
And you have terrible taste.

Baby,
I'm not sure who I am addressing here.
Who's this baby?
Don't correct me and say,
"To whom am I addressing."
Apricots.

I hope you like these apricots,
Because these apricots are terrible,
And
You'd really have to like apricots
to like these
apricots.

Apricots.

2011-08-18T03:39:00.000-07:00

Dear sir or madam.

Form letters are terrible. Worse still is prose poetry based on form letters. It's like we're reading the New Yorker. Mother Fucking The New Yorker. I hope you like form letters, because to like this form letter, you'd really have to like form letters, since this one is terrible.

Sincerely,

Apricots.

From Life.

2011-08-18T03:38:00.000-07:00

I've never ridden a bike before. It was pretty fun.

Hey, what is this beer? I've never had this before.

From Life.

Want.

2011-08-02T00:04:00.000-07:00

Space Cat, the Earth ain't no place to lay your eggs.

Space Cat, the Earth ain't no place to lay your eggs. It's all omelets down here.

Space Cat, the Earth ain't no place to lay your eggs. It's all omelets and toast down here.

Space Cat, the Earth ain't suitable for egg reposition. Human legs is like lobster crackers, bibs-on, boiled dinner.

Human legs, the Earth ain't no place for you to lay your eggs. Space Cat cracks like lobsters snap, 'n eggs being round is at risk; rollin' tables / down the street. Storm Drain problem. N' later when those eggs hatch TMNS-C. It's a crush, they'll be on it like toys like toys like toys n' candy, n' it aint' suitable.

In print.

2011-08-01T23:49:00.000-07:00

Why is it that hate and anger create so much violence and terrible things,
but not art?
Where's my teeming pile of art dedicated to your seething jealousy.
That isn't a question.
Maybe, what I've done is foster a germ.
Progenitor of the nasty things in life.
It's like, remember how racist old cartoons were.
That isn't a question either.
You remember.
What happened to that kind of art.
I'm not advocating it.
I'm just wondering.
Because when I write terrible things
And I lash wildly
It probably makes me look wild and untamed and dangerous and full of feelings burping up through swills and and and and.

But I want to see your terrible terribles.
In print.
If it's not in print.
It's not.
In print.

Apricots.

2011-07-30T04:37:00.000-07:00

I could write you the fiction you want to read. I could. But I'll use some words wrong. Like, "He feigned indignity in the dark peninsula moon-gorge. Life was hard. Spacial relativity came easily to Ursula, who despite the body of a chicken, had the soul of a 13th century heretic, unwashed and unserved. Also, her body of a chicken was a metaphor for falling in love with a pretty girl who's name might be you." It's a choose your own adventure.

Baby, I hope you like apricots,
Because theses apricots are terrible.
You'd really have to like apricots to like these ones.

Binary.

2011-07-25T21:45:00.000-07:00

Stopping is for people who aren't going.
Inversion statements are for people who stick out.
Sticking out is for people who stay in.
In is for out.
For is is for.
Is si.
i. .i

Charact.

2011-07-23T17:03:00.000-07:00

Why I'm every character.
Maybe I've put myself into these creations.
Maybe we (I) fictionalize ourselves (myself).
So, I've been reading a social construction of grammar book recently:

So, I can be an agent.
I coined "agentive" in a paper in college.
You're supposed to use that word to describe grammar only,
And now, years later,
I find that my life is the intersection of grammar and
Self.

Agentive.

So I can be an agent.

I guess I'm agentive.
But I'm every character too.
I'm reading Stop Paying Attention.
I'm this character,
And it's the first girl
I've mapped myself onto.
Maybe that's why I'm such a good reader.

Am I me,
Am I an amalgamation
Amalgamated Works of Self Construction, INC.

There's a list of characters I think I am:
I am Fry, from Futurama.
We have the same hair cut.
It's obvious really.
But it's the singularity of characters that make me relate.

Isolated individuals
Which, probably everybody feels like.
I don't care,
This is about me.

But it's about
Leopold Bloom.

It's Yorick Brown.
It's the angry young man.
It's the band Dire Straits.
It's Tin Tin.
It's a picture of younger me.
It's every Hemingway lead male character.
It's the lost generation.
It's those authors.
It's Lupid the 3rd.
It's
It's
It's
It's

Flip.

2011-07-23T16:47:00.000-07:00

Why I like 45s.
Why? I like 45s.

7 inches of vinyl or something like vinyl.

Why, I like 7 inches or so.

Soviet Blow Back.

Billy Joel n' the USSR,
You don't know how ____ you are.

Italiz

2011-07-17T20:56:00.000-07:00

Fueled by coffee.
Ignored in my professional field.
Up late hours,
Toiling.
My practiced skills getting duller,
My useless wit getting sharper.
Ye, gods!
I know what I've become:
The accidental artist.
Esoteris Polemicist.
I've been called pretentious,
Conceded,
Entitled.
It's not that.
You're wrong!
But that's what you'd expect those traits to refute.

You don't know me!
It might be expected that, I would yell it.
But I won't hide my thoughts or feelings.

I'm not pretentious:
I'm angry.
I'm frustrated.
I'm growing more oblique.
I'm not lashing out,
I'm lashing, wildly,
Undirected.

Caravan

2011-07-17T18:31:00.001-07:00

Narratives are overwritten.
It's like the written word is just a waste of time.

Listen to me with your eyes.

Don't people get arrested for that?

It's like how a song that doesn't have words is better because I can't tell you how it goes,
And I don't want to anyway.
It's my fucking song and I don't care if you connect to it.

Caravan.

Please, make way: Your Paragon Awaits.

2011-07-16T04:03:00.000-07:00

I read this thing somewhere once, non-specific
About how,
Writing a blog, even if no one reads it
Can help a brother out,
You know.

But then,
I guess what it didn't take into consideration
Was when people read it
And oversharing
Becomes anathema
To privacy.

Is that how you use that word?
It's how I used it.
Also, I don't care how you use it.
I'm a specific kind of lazy (It might be arrogant.)

I've been thinking recently about
My oblique.

It's like, an oblique.
Sounds like a greek or roman thing.
Maybe it symbolizes something.
Maybe it used to be a statue.
I don't really care.
The metaphor works for me.
That's kind of why I write this, then.

It's a sharp decline, and this ones mine.
I brought waxed paper,
And we're all a little to old,
So when the dip comes,
You're going to feel it,
And the rides going to be over
Faster than expected.

I'm still afraid of heights,
So that's why I want to be
Down in the muck.

Me first!

2011-07-16T03:53:00.000-07:00

I've had people say to me,
"Well, see I've been in a relationship with someone for most of my life; At least you know who you are stand-alone."
At least I know who I am.
But now I've come to a point where I think about who I am,
And how it's like that episode of something redacted comes this way,
And how you, and almost anyone outside of extreme nerdballs wouldn't understand the dumb reference,
anyway.

It's not that I'm a nerd, I am of course a nerd, but it's not that, and it's not that I'm not more than a nerd as well.

It's that I'm really good at watching TV.

Someone, probably my parents, made some sidelong remark about having kids:
"We'll see, when you have kids blah blah blah, can't blah blah, must buy furniture then."
So, then I was thinking, I might have kids, I might get married, I might be different;
But it won't be me who does those things, it'll be a different me.

If I met that me-when, we'd be a good deal different.
Would it be like when I used to read the things I wrote,
And cringe?

Or would the me-today, look on and cringe.
No compromise in defense of myself.
Or is it
Adapt to survive.

Ibu.

2011-07-08T18:40:00.000-07:00

I think I heard somewhere,
That the Iron Maiden wasn't actually a torture device;
Something Manufactured by
con-artists,
sideshows,
and Hollywood.

But one of the most
ingenious torture devices
has to be,
the Knee.

Tricked!

2011-07-07T03:51:00.001-07:00

I saw I guy tuck a glass into his extra shirt and leave the bar. So, I grabbed a water glass and said, "I'll be right back, I have to get a glass back." Then I jogged across the street to the guy and said, "Hey, man. Want a free glass? To go with the one you have?" and he says, "What? Yeah." So, he shows me the glass he stole, and I go "Thanks!" And grab that glass, and jog back to the bar. I am a winner!

Great.

2011-06-29T20:45:00.000-07:00

I know that when the great wet comes
We'll climb.
Some will roll, and the thunder never heard,
Defines us all.

I know that trees and water and rain
Have soaked me to the bone
And one without the other
Isn't possible.

And I've spent hours in a pool
Of water by a raging river,
Getting colder by the minute
And minutes pass like hours.

I know that somedays I can't feel hunger,
But I lessen and lessen
Until I'm a whisper of myself
Grasping foolishly to a rind of bread.

It's true that some weeks
And years and months and days
Will float by
Wild Strawberries.

The grass cut
The tooth brushed
We're ready to move on
To our next diswant.

I know that the things I say
I can't remember
But I can't remember
Why I didn't want to at first.

Frequently wrong,
It's entirely possible
That this was a great gamble
Turned up red.

It's not that I won't
It's just that this David
Can't have children.
He'll be someone different.

Can you morn the loss
Of yourself
Like a 10 year separation
Estranged from a child of the past.

I know that I've been alone,
Keeping myself company
for 25 years,
It'll take a few more at least.

How.

2011-06-29T19:51:00.001-07:00

Rebelling against your own generation is problematic, and shows your discordant nature. You should think, I'm not a musician, I'm not an artist, I'm not a creator. What you are, if you don't ride the wave of the age-community, is a piece of meat that the sausage girl feeds to the machine. You're the gristle, I'm the tube. Do you want to be the gristle or the tube?

Up all night.

2011-06-25T04:42:00.000-07:00

I stayed up until dawn. More specifically day-break. I ate at a diner with friends at 345 am. Not four, but we did leave then. As I crossed town, the sky blue with cold, is it summer yet?

I was reminded of my childhood nighttime wake-ups. Did my parents know? Every night for at least 3 years, I must have been around 9 to 12, I would wake at about 3 am. Of all the insomniacs, I was not one. I am still a heavy sleeper. Slept through a hurricane. Slept through a tree falling down. Slept through two trees falling down. I can sleep.

I'd wake up at 3. Most nights on the dot. Maybe that's what spurred my interest in literature. Normally, I'd read myself to sleep. But really, I didn't read myself to sleep, and I was only reminded of this today; I'd read myself till dawn, and dawn myself to sleep.

It's not that I was afraid of the dark. It's that dawn has always represented to me, a giving up. An exhausted admittance, that whatever fear that comes with the vulnerability of sleep, whether it be imagined childhood monsters, or the real life adult equivalent like debt, and home-invaders, dawn shows us that the world goes on, unrelentingly. Give in, dawn says, you've already waited too long. Just sleep.

Good night. I've already waited too long.

F.

2011-06-14T13:07:00.001-07:00

I think obliquely I think
My grandfather used to say
"My bubble is a little off-plumb."
Which refers to a level, etc.

Hum.

2011-06-13T23:39:00.000-07:00

I got a text message today, it suggested I call into Talk of the Nation, an NPR show. The subtext was that I should angrily call in, demanding that in fact this "Army of New Teachers" our schools need exists already: I am one of them.

I feel invisible Arne Duncan, Secretary of Education. I'm right here. I pay my rent with bar money. I live in a basement. I'm extremely qualified. Have glowing recommendations. Have a fucking Master's Degree. In fact, I've had that since I was 24. Some people might consider that an accomplishment.

It hurts me, to be ignored. I'm worried, that in this coming year I won't have a job in my field, and in the following year, I'm worried lacking 2 years of experience, I'll be less qualified, and fail to qualify for license renewal.

I'm angry. I'm not entitled. I don't feel fulfilled. I don't feel challenged. I don't feel like I'm helping. I question the values of higher education.

And so today I also got an email. Happy interviews sometimes, it seems turn into unfortunate emails. Why didn't I get that job? Should I move to LA if they want me in the fall?

It's hard for me to move. Places weigh heavily on me. I'm deeply connected to place. People are ok too. Humble in all the wrong ways.

Stat

2011-06-06T11:49:00.000-07:00

Write your poems, keep them in a desk drawer and be upset as a ghost in 70 years when they're published posthumously. Also, you're a sea captain. Captain of the Sea.

And so the slow burn set in, not during the broil of the furnace, but instead as night set and the moon washed black. A bread baked after the house cooled.

And with the arrival of the bright orb a brief period of happiness began, noticeable at first by the acute, pert stiffness of activity, and followed by the happy wilt: It would not last forever, but forever would be here for at least a short time.

Best.

2011-06-02T16:29:00.001-07:00

Love is for people who don't have sandwiches.

Sometimes things are worth looking at.

Don't take pictures of people or landscapes,
Take pictures of people's things.
Take pictures of your things, everyday.

I peed in a rain storm yesterday,
and figured it didn't matter if it was a riparian area,
But secretly,
I still felt a little guilty.

A pause, followed by several rapid heartbeats.

2011-05-26T04:00:00.000-07:00

I love the water,
But I'm a terrible swimmer.
When I was 8, I was almost swept out to sea by a riptide;
Or at least that's what it felt like,
As a scratched and clawed at the sand,
And slid backwards towards the sea.

I'm not afraid of water,
It's heights that get me.
There's no anxiety,
It's just when I get up there and all of sudden,
Zip. Guts in a not.
And I'm almost less safe on the descent,
Than if the fear hadn't struck.

Now bikes, traffic,
And the dark?
I'm old hand.
There is no fear there.
All the accidents that I've almost been in,
There's no trepidation:
Just concentration, the proper and precise maneuver,
And then a pause.

Followed by several rapid heartbeats.

Being Constructive

2011-05-25T15:01:00.000-07:00

I've been commenting on some articles from Bikeportland recently, and of course it's about language. Here are my comments below, but I really enjoyed the article which you can read here.

David K May 25, 2011 at 2:27 pm

I've often heard that these types of language shifts be defined as "people-first" changes. Instead of "bicyclists," we say "people who bicycle" and in that way stress the similarity, not the difference.

I find that the phrase "people-first" is a succinct way of guiding authors in their writing, something we can all benefit from and remember easily.

David K May 25, 2011 at 2:57 pm

I actually really value "people who drive" and "people who choose multimodal transport." It seems like so often it's described as "bicyclists," "pedestrians," and "cars." Which does separate the active user of those vehicles from the mode of transport they have chosen.

In a sense, writing which puts the person first puts cyclists, pedestrians, and drivers of vehicles on the same level. I also think it's necessary to throw in more categories to these lists in which parallel structure plays a role. I've always like "people who choose multi-modal transport" as a fourth category which admits that some people choose different means of transportation at different times.

Fusters.

2011-05-16T03:02:00.000-07:00

On the festering boil of anger that is my unfulfilled and probably spoiled career as a teacher which I am exceptionally talented but not employed.

I'm angry.

On the problematic intelligence which leaves me unique and incapable of love.

I'm sad.

On the survival of impact and disassociation that comes with having steel roll for thousands of miles and hundreds of miles with an inanimate object.

I'm conflicted.

I'm fast.

2011-05-10T01:42:00.000-07:00

You don't who I am.
Sometimes, in the wee hours of the morning I can't restrain my simultaneous hubris
And disappointment.
I think my fascination with tandem bikes, is that
I don't know anyone who can keep up.
Does that mean I should slow down.
Be less who I am and want to be?
Am I who I am, running loose away from other people.
I think I'm a radical,
And sometimes I look in the mirror and think,
"When did I get so handsome?"
But most of the time I'm crippled with the fact that
I haven't be in love,
And I don't know anybody who's into it.
And by it I mean me,
Because, I suck at that part of life.
I hate the bed,
And nobody wants to look at classic cars,
Browse the vintage stores,
Read books,
Draw pictures,
Drink coffee,
Play cards,
Drink beer,
Make stuff,
Make boats,
Weld.

Oh, I'm just kidding.
Everybody wants to do that.
What's my problem (?).

Batman Wins Orbs With Joker Face

2011-05-09T02:56:00.000-07:00

I was going to write this thing, where like it talked about all the girls I've had crushes on at once. 1998, 2005, 2009, 2010. It'd be cryptic and awesome in concept and fail in execution. So instead, I've chosen to just reference a thing I could've done and be famous in an alternate dimension, or perhaps fail horribly and alienate people, myself included.

In other news, I'm no apocolypticist. There is no singularity. People is just folk, there is no coming together.

The internet.

Work out.

2011-05-04T00:33:00.000-07:00

Take note: I am not one to ignore my feelings of deep sadness. But also, I'm writing thing in just a pair of argyle socks in my boxers. I'm working out. I live in a basement. I'm trying to make myself a better person. It's hard. Sometimes I hate people really hard, and sometimes I have anxiety attacks, and sometimes it's for good reasons and sometimes it's not. I'm a person, I guess I discovered that in the last few years and it was weird. I used to think, maybe I was one of those observers from the Highlander TV series. I'm not. I thought I might be the narrator from the Sandlot. I'm not. I'm better. I'm a person who makes a difference in other peoples' lives and they make a difference in mine. I'm not happy sometimes. Sometimes I'm really alright. I'll tell you when I'm hate my job, if you ask. Now I'm going to listen to the mountain goats and work out till I sleep.

Something I value deeply is without meaning.

2011-04-29T13:46:00.000-07:00

There is no magic in literature.
It is all grit and sadness and not to be admired.

There is no value in writing.
Only what we bring to it, self-serving and needy.

There is no beauty in the world.
Only want and desire, and pleasure.

Reading is a self-congratulatory act.
It is mental masturbation.

And we begin there,
Constructing our own worlds
Through the construction of the worlds of others.

It simply is,
Without judgment or prejudice,
We bring that to the text.

(We)Con-(Writing)text.
The navigation of media is principle to our understanding of the world.

Smells like

2011-04-26T23:34:00.001-07:00

Time has a distinct smell. Not even retrospectively. Time, as it's happening, has a distinct smell.

This past winter smelled this kind of heavy refreshing wet smell. "Rude Boy" makes that smell. It's like the electronic something or other. The music video's weird, throw-back, and awesome. Something about the full length shots that makes the smell. Something that can't be explained.

I remember what soap tastes like when you drink it, or choke some down during bubble-blowing. That's what one summer smelled like, when I was kid.

I smell pretty distinct. Musty. Let me sit for a few days and all my stuff smells like it. I'm a nest-er. Nests have a distinct smell; ask any bird.

Some books buy you in just for the smell. It's low-grade combustion. Paper is burning, in a sense. Yellow. Give it long enough, black? It'll at least crinkle, crack, dry, and flake like ashes.

Brown is a smell I get and my nose, if I pinch it, smells like peanut butter. Shitty peanut butter. Not the kind I buy, but the kind a roommate might burn in the toaster. Or the kind some vegan might think is a solid meal on some spelted heavy-ass bread. Don't talk to me about heavy breads vegans, I like that stuff that comes in a can; the darkest of Ryes. You're doing it wrong.

Can't remember the smell of most foods. 530 pm always smells like pasta. Always; NPR "All Things Considered." I almost called Car Talk about a problem I had / have. Long, solo car rides leave car days later, smelling like the farts of days past. The issue here, isn't the car. It me. Perpetually solo / Rugged individualist, which I think means republican or at least libertarian.

The worst part about hating Ayn Rand, is being the main character of her novel "Atlas Shrugged."

2011-04-13T19:21:00.001-07:00

It was a girthy day hot with plump sun and wet clouds that were making me wet with clouds. When the coffee hit my lips, for kissing, I knew that my brain would like the taste of this coffee when my tongue touched it and my brain liked it.

Review: Bunk Bar

2011-04-13T19:13:00.000-07:00

In the absence of normal writing, I've attached my yelp reviews to this post. I make no divisions in my art.

Bunk Bar

Categories: Bars, Sandwiches
Neighborhoods: Central Eastside, Industrial District

4/7/2011

Some of the best times of my life have been eating sandwiches, and drinking beer. I used a comma there to differentiate between the two, as typically being separate "best times of my life-zies."

At Bunk Bar, I can do both. Ye, Gods.

There was a special Ruben made of beef tongue one time. I've eaten a blaggard's throw of Rubens and Beef Tongue alike; heavens, this is the sort of pairing that gives one the vapors. I must concede, Bunk Bar: In the game of life you are winning.

Also, the beer selection is solid like a rock like a ford commercial, but not to be conflated with middle America's obsession with trucks and Budweiser. No, Bunk Bar has some solid, tasty beverages to lift the skirt on any Johnathan or Christine.

Coalition Brewing

Categories: Restaurants, Breweries
Neighborhood: Southeast Portland

3/13/2011

I really like this place, it's got that small bar charm to accompany the craft brewed beer. As a picky beer person, I enjoy the variety of beer that is regularly on tap. It's not all for me, but most of it suits my tastes. It seems like most beers here are well-balanced.

The seasonal beers and the special guest taps are always interesting and pretty good. This winter I enjoyed the Lost Glove Strong Ale a fair amount. The food is good as well; The elk sloppy joe and pastys are a nice unique fare.

Plus the bar-tenders are friendly people. Good on this place for being local, friendly, and high-quality.

Pine State Biscuits

Category: Breakfast & Brunch
Neighborhoods: Southeast Portland, Belmont

1/16/2011

I've always thought that the best thing about eating biscuits n' gravy is that you're not making it for breakfast. This place does that for you.

Ye gods, they have one covered in honey and pickles.

I like how small it is too, so if it's busy consider getting it to go. Personally though, I just order it for there and a table nearly always opens up. You know, just like intuit the Tao and whatever on it.

I like the corndogs a fair bit too.

Systems

2011-03-22T14:52:00.001-07:00

I don't even believe that Batman exists.
I resist the urge to define myself against the dominant belief system.
"Nice painting of Batman,"
Someone might say.
This is incorrect.
You can't have a painting of something that doesn't exist.
I wish people said stuff like,
"Nice painting. It accurately conveys my conception of the spectrum of acceptable Batmans in a visual medium."
I've always found that there is much more leniency awarded to Batman accepted voice.

Version 2:

I don't even believe that Batman exists.
I had so much puberty last night I can't stop myself I'm going to eat all this mac n' cheese.
Let's just break the windows out of our car and whiffle it like a golf-ball for speed.
When you're older you'll understand the link between cannibalism and fishing.
And the misappropriation of millions of children,
How we ended up with Russian Grandfathers and
They ended up with our babies.

Red

2011-03-22T14:47:00.000-07:00

How to feel bad and get really good at is easy, just have opinions like, "if you're my age and have two kids already, you're doing it wrong."

Or like when it rains you think about how much better you are at rain then all the other people. Literally all of them.

My eyes are really dilated right now. Sometimes I wish I had problems so that I could have excuses, but instead I'm healthy as shit. I'm a young white male. I don't think we get to have problems.

Sometimes I think I might have allergies, but then I think I might just be bored.

How to Obsess Properly

2011-03-21T13:47:00.000-07:00

It's easy to obsess, but you're doing it wrong.

Think about your shoes. They're leather shoes. You've put that aqueous wax on them. You've put that aqueous wax on them again. You wore them out in the rain and the water beaded up, but it got through in one section, so you put that aqueous wax on them again. Ok, they're pretty good now. For a few weeks. We'll check back then.

Oh, it's really raining now. Ok, so you put your lace up rubber boots on, right? You wanted lace up rubber boots for a few months, and then you found some, right? So you bought them, right? You told your friend about those lace up rubber boots, right? Then you told another friend about them, right? Then another friend? Another? Same friend? Told them a second, third, fourth time? Great. Good job. Now think about them. Good color. Really even. Really even for boots.

How about petting the cat? Pet the cat. Pet the cat. Pet the cat. Talk about petting the cat. Look at the cat. Tell people to look at the cat. Tell people to pet the cat. You're petting it wrong. You gotta pet it so it can feel it. Like this. Like this. Like this. Kitty pet pet pet cat. Now make a farting sound on the cat. Now pet it.

Canada Jokes

2011-03-21T13:43:00.000-07:00

What's up in northern Canada; the only thing I know for sure is that there are flies that will get in your face and your mouth and your eyes.

What's up in northern Canada; this is JFPRV radio with your host Cliff Begorsian, ok then.

What's up in Canada; North eh, Canada -a joke.

Work to do.

2011-03-10T22:50:00.000-08:00

The shower is a place for the condensation of time,
In which I precipitate memory of the period between my last shower.
Whole conversations are had, out-loud but in a whisper voice
So that nobody knows I'm crazy.
Sometimes I worry that maybe I'm talking regular-loud,
And they know, but are too polite to say anything.
I wonder about those conversations too.
They always seem to be in the future,
Future Conversations.
Rehearsals for the next few days.
I don't shower everyday,
It would be far less interesting in there.

Sometimes the shortest pieces have the longest titles; it's the curse of the modern writer (They don't know the meaning of consice.)

2011-03-06T22:52:00.001-08:00

.

Yes, my record player does have a repeat button.
I use it for listening to "Fame," from the musical motion picture,
On repeat.

IM

2011-03-05T02:51:00.000-08:00

Forget the rubbers,
I'm riding my bike home
And hard steel rakes clean
Any hope of company
Not that I'm the fastest
Or the best at picking routes
But running ragged
At hours beyond
The wet tar rolls
With that plllllllllllll
And hills burn like
Magazines
Green and Blue
Each stop a considered
Do or don't
Arriving home
Routine takes over
Alone once again
Impossible man.

Pet g

2011-03-04T00:30:00.000-08:00

How to make people angry:

Star Wars Sucks
The Beatles Suck
Bill Murrary Sucks
Sign my petition.

Gingham.

2011-03-03T00:14:00.000-08:00

There's this internet video,
Where the kid yells,
"Gingers do have souls,"
And for a while people would tell me
"Gingers don't have souls."

It's like,
"Ya, I know dude."
"I'm an atheist."

Flaw.

2011-03-03T00:13:00.001-08:00

I don't believe in the soul,
But if I did, I'd say
That having a soul
without a hole that needs filling
is a flaw.

Notes.

2011-02-27T23:18:00.000-08:00

Note to self;
Write that thing about that time you broke your leg,
Or
What I should say is,
Write that thing about how you have that little germ jumping around
In your head that says
Write that thing about the time you broke your leg,
And of course,
You never broke your leg.

Rats.

2011-02-24T00:42:00.000-08:00

I think that a lot of people don't feel good about themselves.
I don't know a lot about people, so I shouldn't write mean things.
And other simplistic phrasings for complex truisms.
Also, I hate that word.

Sometimes to vent my frustrations I want to write something like
Hey, you.
You're terrible.
But what I really mean is,
Love me love me love me
And share my interests.
But what I really mean is,
Not you. Don't love me.
You, -you love me.
And that way I see it happening is,
Rats, you and you.
Aim above my station.
No compromise in defense of.

TNG

2011-02-10T09:04:00.000-08:00

Will Riker,
Will Riker
A beard is
A terrible
Thing to
Waste
And Yet,
So few
In Space.

Season 1
No fun.
The rest,
The best.

Why did
It have
To end,
My Friend?

Facts

2011-02-09T19:39:00.000-08:00

Because it came and went,
I'm not sure my conception of time is like yours.
Arriving early, after leaving late.

Hole-hearted;
Did you know that Bald Eagles
land on the backs of sheep and puncture their lungs?
Air whistles out, days go by, sheep die.
Eagles can live for years like that.

Puzzle-Piece memory,
Tried and metaphor
It's true,
Shadows that look like they can fit,
Probably do.

Some coyotes will kill newborn sheep,
Because only newborn sheep have curdled milk
in their stomachs.
They'll only eat the milk too.
If that won't do they'll kill the mom,
And go straight for the udder.

And other facts about sheep.

Loss is hats and gloves.

2011-02-08T20:13:00.001-08:00

I lost a glove the other day.
Lost my hat too.
One was in my house,
The other on the road.

On B W Uh.

2011-02-08T00:10:00.000-08:00

On being wildly unhappy.
Oh it's easy.
The first few years aren't that hard,
And they don't come as a shock.
Sure we new this was coming.
It's like,
Oh, yeah, of course that didn't work out.
Problematic excuses ensue.
Funny Guy Funny Guy Funny Guy
Solo Extreme Activity Adventure Test Proof
But after a few years you get really good at it.
It's not such a big deal anymore.

Next in our series, how to be unemployed like a mug.

History of the

2011-02-07T23:59:00.000-08:00

Not enough is written from a place of hate
But you've got teeth like gargantua,
By which we mean a skelton,
And your beard obscures what east coast
Allure you once had,
It's not that different,
Now please,
Please please,
Shut up about Pennsylvania,
New Jersey and Ohio.
They are fine.
Deciduous tree and the graveyards you find in the woods.
It's not scary, it's a history of death an destruction.
Please the west coast white wash what culture was here and
Give me what I want.
A girlfriend and a job that pays like Victoria Falls, I co-opted;
I get to get to do that now,
I'm older.

Hot House Jazz Two Step.

2011-02-06T13:53:00.000-08:00

For someone who gets the dreads as much as much as I do,
It's surprising that you couldn't get me to jump out of an airplane.
But there are only 321 days until Christmas
And even though it may be a little early to start counting,
I started counting 21 days ago.

It's like how you start thinking about Spring in mid-January,
And the flowers and grass is thinking about it too,
Coming up here and there little green sons of bitches.
If it were sunlight instead of meat, beer, and potatoes to get me through the winter
I don't know if I could do it.

So I started taking some little pills with liquid sunshine in each one.
And I got anxiety.
It's like how summer brings sunburns and healthy kissing people out,
And now I'm out of place with my dread and slump.
There's no challenge in the warmth, and somehow whining is encouraged.

How to Manage

2011-02-02T12:15:00.001-08:00

I don't really know what blowing your nose is.
I can pick my nose with a tissue,
And I've seen you bugle a tune with that big one,
boogers out and about,
on the town.

Snot suck.
Slime mold throat coat.
That's me.
Nutritional suppositional told through sniffles, snorks, and snuhgullpists.

It's unappealling.
I'll be the first to admit it.
But it's winter.
It's cold.
And this is the first house I've lived in as an adult that we heat.

It's probably just the rot thaw.
Cold and crusty insides dribble out.
Get back in there.
Suck snot.

Things I get.

2011-02-01T18:43:00.000-08:00

Things I Get.

I get to hate you and here's why even though I'm a white male and it seems like the wrong thing to do;
You're handsome, and privaledged and people value what you do only because you're the one doing it.
You're engaged deeply with culture and fashion and here's why I've spent my life breaking down fashion and culture and analyzing, criticizing, deincentivising lifestyles spent around pleasure and beliefs unfounded.
I get to hate you and here's the thing, I'm jealous of your lifestyle that I don't even want, like your dark eyes and your heavy beard and your chest hair protruding up through your shirt and the way you look in cameras postured heavy on the I don't give enough shit.
I don't even believe in stuff and I give a shit.
Try that on, and I hate you.

Ideas for Love in the World.

I don't say I love you to people.
Which is kind of funny because my life is about words I guess,
And I don't value them.
You can probably tell if I love you based on what I do.
Did I spend 2 days reading a book you expressed interest in, in passing?
Maybe I mowed your lawn for free for 3 years.
Oh, I helped you move without asking.
Probably was always there and didn't care.
But what's weirder is that instead of saying that I'm for breaking down the harmony and peace.
Expressing hate in the world is dangerous but so much stronger.
I'm falling in hate with you.
If you can love you can hate.
Like how I hate you for being pretty, and still being insecure.
Or how I hate you for being distant.
Or how some people fall in love with a life event.
Like how they might like this or that or sunsets on the beach.
Well I'm falling in hate with hot sunny days that burn my skin.
Or how I'm falling in hate with the romance of being alone, travelling alone, driving alone, living alone.
Ah, the rugged individual, is American ideal.

Beds.

2011-02-01T12:50:00.001-08:00

You love the bed?
It's so comfortable. I could stay in it all day. I love eating in bed.
Sounds like an amazing life.
It's smells great. Like stale sweat and pilled cotton.
Some days, you don't get out at all?
I just want to cocoon up. Lumpy butterfly to emerge in a few days.
It's warm? It's winter? Why not?

My bed is made for sleeping, and being lonely.
I get out of bed and put my clothes on.
Some days I tie a tie and pretend to be respectable.
I'm getting pretty good at that.

House of the Flying Burgesses.

2011-01-31T20:28:00.000-08:00

Some people say, there's two things in life we know for sure;
You live and you die.

Which is wrong. There's a good number of people who haven't died yet, and might never.
You don't what's best.

Some people are into stuff like death and taxes.
That's dumb.

Some times it's really hard to get someone to eat a burger with you.

Tips for the Unfortunate.

2011-01-17T00:18:00.001-08:00

I could talk your ear off about cross-dressing and problematic dynamics through allusion in Shakespeare's As You Like It, but I can't do math, meet women, or be hired in my field. Luckily, I have gotten really good at not doing any of those things.

Negation Improvement; Perhaps it's new. Good at not. Excelling at a misfortune!

He's really good at walking with a limp.
She's been depressed so often, it's not a big deal!
He's blind, and he's way better than I am when I close my eyes.
She hasn't been employed for years; If you're bored she's like an encyclopedia of what to do!

Scrips

2011-01-17T00:05:00.000-08:00

I hate the beat poets,
But don't know much about them.

It's like something something glasses;
No punctuation.

Pretention?
Cities?
That's got to be a big part of it.

Probably wore denim slacks and loafers,
Looked like Humphrey Bogart ? years too late.

Something about Paris.
They all went there maybe?

Oh, and striped sweaters,
Invited Pablo Picasso.

All men.
Men men men men men men men.
White guys.
Barf.

At least give me the kind
that aren't all about themselves.

Composure

2011-01-15T02:53:00.000-08:00

You can't compose at this time.

Roughs

2011-01-12T16:55:00.001-08:00

When I think about writing, I have deep sense of the lack of value I have in writing. It's all about, listen to me, I have something to say that you should listen to. What it should probably be about, is an honest dialog, that I need to say this.

On it, for the finish.

Concise

2011-01-11T20:00:00.000-08:00

What It Felt Like To Break My Leg As Imagined For Years Set To The Tune of Clifton Chenier, But Not to the music; the Leg is Being "Set," As In Re-Aligned.*

I cried for what felt like days

But like most things that hurt,
When I get hurt,

I actually just stood there
As my face got whiter,

Which didn't happen.

And as my leg Swelled,

As I imagine legs do

When they break

I thought about crackers

And how when you load them up with Cheese

They always crumble on your sweater.

On my sweaters.

*See here too long a title, laid to rest.

Comfort smells like orange and brown.

2011-01-09T17:47:00.000-08:00

I'm not into blankets or comfort
It's all hard-backed, wood chairs for me.
And stools. Ya, stools that make your ass hurt.
When I get up in the morning, I put my pants on.

Robes, pajamas? Disgusting.
Tie those shoes.
Put on clean socks.

Some people stay in bed for hours.
It's in and out for me.

Double Down.

2011-01-07T17:50:00.000-08:00

How to Afford to Care,
a treatise on lying.
or
Poetic License Means:
You're an old man now, so you get to tell people why the world is wrong.

Any asshole can tell the truth,
But I'm an expert,
So when I do it,
You think I'm lying.

You can trust yourself to make the wrong decision
And by you, I mean me.

I can trust myself to make the wrong decision.
And by you, if you said it, you'd mean you.

You're mean,
And I don't trust you.
Asshole.

Vs.

Theories On Racism
Or
Things that are different scare me.

I think that instead of racism, people should say how they really feel.

"That person is different and I'm uncomfortable!"

It could be yelled out a truck window,
If the truck was moving at slow speeds.

More succinctly,

"I fear you!"
or
"My anger equals fear!"
or
"Different!"

Perhaps for the discerning Racist we would expect some choice word well suited.

"My family inadequately prepared me for cultural differences!"

"You're physical appearance is different, I fear change!"

"This is not unlike Bede's parable, and you represent the unknown!"

"My animalistic reaction to you is likely surrounds a sense of territory and culturally formed ideas about gender roles, and anger seems the only outlet with which I'm prepared to interact."

Then we can all agree that perhaps this one suits most.

"I hate you because it's easier!"

Please keep in mind, this does not serve as a primer for racism, or a guide.
Please do not apply these systems to other groups in terms of their gender, sexuality, cultural identity, physical appearance or sports team preference.

Self-Appraisal.

2011-01-07T17:34:00.000-08:00

In better condition this item might be valued
at around 78 thousand dollars.
But see there are 2 issues here,
That while making it more functional today,
Tend to affect the value,

for collectors only.

He's missing the original costume.
Most of these came dressed as futuristic vikings.

Yes, they're slimmer.

It really needs to have
the unitard,
the oak handled claw hammer,
and the wool shall,

to be considered
"Mint."

See this one here has had his
blood-lust
and
berserking
replaced by feelings
and higher-education degrees.

"You won't see him taking down a crusader or an elk with his bare hands will you Kevin."

"No you won't Miles, but believe me, the capability was always there."

"Now that, I can't believe"

Middle School Brained.

2011-01-05T18:54:00.000-08:00

Nobody is as tough as me, but they're all more handsome.

That's a summation of my brain,
An honest reprisal,
In which the spoils of war are taken-back
Social Contract, the government and all that jazz.
I say jazz, that's when John Locke wrote, in the '30s.
Of course, it was Rousseau who wrote 'Round Midnight.

So, this year I thought maybe
I'd be more honest with people.
But honestly I think I just get more erections.

Life is about getting sad,
Or maybe it's about getting just sad enough.
Like maybe it's that now I'm so good at it, it's not a big deal.

I want to be different like everyone else.

Earn it.

2011-01-02T13:34:00.000-08:00

Video games are often about exploring a map yet to be unrevealed in it's entirety. Black recedes as your character advances to previously unexplored terrain.

What we know about ourselves, however minimal, is known less by the people around us.

Create your own mythology:

Who are you?

What are your origins?

What's your alignment?
Do you know what this is? I'm Neutral Good. But it's not like I play D&D. Ye gods, it's called cultural competence, and if you disparage these people you're likely an elitist. It's existed for over 35 years, get the net.

Have you undertaken any quests?

Lineage, and how does that inform who you are?

Have you allied yourself with others?

Are their secret pasts?

What's your conception of the universe?

Etc.

Sidelong Tower / Glance Left and Up.

2010-12-13T20:37:00.000-08:00

Below are a few items from my notebook in the last week. What I really need is for someone to read them and validate my experience. It's cold, it's wet, it's dark; Read on.

***

"Often"

I would probably be better off,
If I hadn't written you -

That weird poem.

***

"Birddog"

-As over-heard and out of context.-

"He was too big,
to have any energy."

***

Gadzuuks! Gadzzuuks!

***

"Each Day"

Legs in the shower;
Things to admire?
See how they change each day.

***

Idea for Valentines Day Card

"I like how you're attractive."

Importantly, the focus here must be on How, not That.
There is a distinct difference.

***

Thoughts on Iconic Drawing of Poop or Cow-Pie/Patty

It might be
That this is actually
Nachos
With far too much cheese.
It obscures the chips
Entirely.

Drawing Here, Absent.

***

From "The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings"
Without context, more:

"That's why I ordered the Eagles
to bring you here."

***

Selections, Unnumbered Intentionally:

It seemed Reasonable.

That I am your new God.

But I don't believe in Ghosts.

***

"Weather"

I'd like to be lifting weights right now
or getting sunburn.

***

"The ear
this ahealth
yplac
etobe moralis
ticand patri
archal."

***

How to:
Be A Bad Boy.

To Women:
Your face is ugly and you are dumb.
You should be dependent on me,
finding confidence only
as part for whole.

Result:
Relationship.

At a Job Interview:
I can do it better than even you.
You can't ask me a question that could accurately define my innumerable skills.
Are you even qualified to hire me?

Result:
King of Money.

***

DMK 12/13/2010
Composed and Embellished
Wet and Dark
Accompanied by Illustration.