Flattered You're Reading

2006-07-16T01:47:00.000-07:00

Insomnia Lying awake in bed late at nightI stare out the window at a star on the navy skyboardand think:I would like to explode out my windowshot like a naked spring into the dark carolsof early morning air. I don't know who I would meetor what I would do,and perhaps once outsidei would recognize the confinements of this fantasy:it is

2005-09-20T15:12:00.000-07:00

We weren't worried about grand thoughts of heartfelt impunity, no tightrope walking or heroic dashes could keep us from a margin of error too dull to top, too on the edge to cut through ideology when all our thoughts really scream is, "I do believe I'm concerned," and there is no hope in skipping on one foot, there are no silent "t"s to release this transnational express, we shoot for lag and end

2005-03-28T14:47:00.001-08:00

The Moment I Realized You're Smarter Than MeYou were giving a presentation onthe Incas of Peruin Political History.Normally,I don't particularly care aboutany topic so dry and ancient,but today you really hadthe entire class hooked.You threaded uswith tales of peasant rebellions,and did we knowthat their entire literatureis written in knotted string?Unfortunately -you said -the empire crumbled so

2005-03-12T17:43:00.000-08:00

The first draft of my novel is finished.With all the creative energy I put into this project, I feel completely drained of any reasonable or creative thoughts. There will be no witty outcrops in this message. Rather, I give it to you strictly by the numbers."Something for the Long Flight Home"first draft completed March 13th, 2005, 2:36 A.M.pages: 255words: 70,073characters (spaces not included)

2005-02-27T07:03:00.000-08:00

The GuppyorA Safer Kind of StoryOne day there was a guppy. This guppy was a young adult and things were finally going his way. He had escaped from his father’s predatory eye and gone on to find great work in a button factory; soon thereafter, love. At the button factory things went superbly, and he was recognized by his superiors as a guppy of great potential. He was quickly promoted to assistant

2005-02-15T07:24:00.000-08:00

The Rejectionby Franz Kafka***When I meet a pretty girl and beg her: 'Please be so kind and come along with me,' and she goes by without saying a word, what she means is: 'You are no duke with extravagent name; no broad American, built like a Red Indian, with level imperturbable gaze, whose skin has been massaged by the winds of the prairies and the waters of the rivers flowing through them; you

2005-02-07T15:33:00.000-08:00

Today i walked the balcony with open laces. A stumble stagger trip and woo I would've flow down 30 feet to my marble hard final stand. The porter, waiting below never liked me but i get the impression that moment would have jarred even him. But after he recovered from that life-altering moment when he realized that mortality flashes like a wide-man's pocketbook, what's

2004-02-24T17:13:00.000-08:00

Amazementology by JD Steinmetz *** There is a tape recorder There is no Microphone There is nothing So truly amazing That we would all agree. At 4 A.M. a vacuum roams the carpet In the far corridors from this Back window, where Pete Gray Sits across from me recounting The boyhood tragedy that separated His right arm in the spokes of a wagon wheel But it didn't keep him out of the majors. "How

2004-02-17T11:28:00.000-08:00

Poetry is all around us. I found this one while enjoying a Fribble in America's favorite family restaurant. *** Hearty, Delicious Friendly's Homestyle Clam Chowder Midwinter Heat Wave

2004-02-16T12:51:00.000-08:00

I like your name. Is it Swedish? Finnish? Estonian? Swahili? Well its beautiful all the same. The stars are out, shall we look for Cassiopia? I can only imagine - since molecules are shifting and time is infinite - that I too shall one day be a star. You shall be a power tool. Would you like to read my poetry? I think there's a verbal translucence to it all. (reluctance, defiance) But

2004-02-15T19:34:00.000-08:00

The Butterfly Effect by Billy Collins *** The one resting now on a plant stem somewhere deep in the vine-hung interior of South America whose wings are about to flutter thus causing it to rain heavily on your wedding day several years from now, and spinning you down a path of calamity and ruin is - if it's any consolation - a gorgeous swallowtail, a brilliant mix of bright orange and vivid

2004-02-09T14:31:00.000-08:00

and all I want is to play in the snow but i go outside and quickly get cold and wet and so i go back inside where it is nice and warm.

2004-02-09T11:25:00.000-08:00

since feeling is first who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you; wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world my blood approves, and kisses are a better fate than wisdom lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry -the best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter which says we are for each other:then laugh,leaning back in my arms for life's not a

2004-02-06T09:05:00.000-08:00

God *** And so they fucked, and he felt a little better. She sighed when he kissed her lips, gasped when he grabbed her wrists, moaned when he touched her sex. She told him he made her wet, and he beamed. His wife never said such things. Afterwards, they lay in bed. He smoked a cigarette with the covers pulled up to his protruding belly, and watched her as she dressed. Normally, he did not

2004-02-05T10:45:00.000-08:00

Two texts Up until this morning, Victoria's Lao Tzu has been sitting on my bookshelf. I have skimmed, but never really ingested the material, and thus it has acted strictly as room decor to impress the masses. But this morning, boy did I need some abstract philosophy to help me ease my mind. I came across a passage I found incredibly comforting... Okay okay, mildly comforting. *** Lao Tzu

2004-02-05T10:01:00.001-08:00

There's a Valentine's day contest at my college... whoever writes the best Valentine wins a $75 gift certificate to some restaurant. While I was in Thailand and feeling particularly lonesome and in need of some good loving (beginning of the trip), I wrote a song, a big pat myself on the back. I considered posting it on the Olde English website, but decided that was a bit too... self-advertised.

2003-12-12T16:53:00.000-08:00

Last night, I attended a lecture. John Guare, renowned playwright (House of Blue Leaves, 6 Degrees of Separation) gave a highly entertaining and unpretenious speech about being a writer and the adventures of his life. "This is who I want to be, at 80," I thought to myelf as he spoke. After his speech, I got a phone call from my friend in New York (Jay). He's leaving for Budapest in a few

2003-11-19T15:00:00.000-08:00

Tape Recorder Poem, #2 This is a strange way to write, I don't know how I feel about it yet. There's something so refreshing and raw about letting it come out of my mouth, but I can't wrap the poem up neatly the way I can when I'm seeing a visual representation, on my computer screen or piece of paper. *** Are we confused or are we troubled off a child seeking some orange incandescent which

2003-11-18T12:22:00.000-08:00

Comfort Confront

2003-11-18T01:34:00.000-08:00

And then everything with the blog changed. Adam thought up a blog post... one he wasn't sure he wanted to put up or not. He worked on it, he finished it... he posted it, then somehow forgot he posted it. Or perhaps he did it by accident. At 4:30 in the morning, he is shocked to see it, there on the web in plain site! How long had it been there? Had it been published? Who had read it?

2003-11-18T01:26:00.000-08:00

Joe: Blogger? Blogger. Fred: That's not anything! Tom: He's defacing his property! Fred: Relax guys... he's just trying to cope with having a blog - Joe: Blogger. [pause. Fred looks at Joe, annoyed.] Fred: He's lowering the stakes. Joe: I am blog. I am blogspot. I am blogger. Tom: So you are. But let's not forget your real purpose. And then we all nodded, because we understood.

2003-11-14T13:56:00.000-08:00

Transformed idiosyncrasies don't leave us half-shelved or dropped off inside the empty smock of grandmother's living room, torn two-tabled by the wind in your ear that faded off your fucker's breath. We can't control death, only reaffirm the promises we kept ourselves, shape up for greater decadence and joyously carry out our rituals while we still have the ligament. Don't shake me from my

2003-11-13T19:44:00.000-08:00

God, I love Elliot Smith. Can't say I really listened to him that much before he stabbed himself. I was very fond of "Miss Misery" and that was about it. Right before he stabbed himself, I started listening to a few more of his catchier tracks. But once he stabbed himself in the chest, the way I listened to the music really change. One knife thrust and suddenly every sad note is legitimized.

2003-11-12T19:36:00.000-08:00

I've spent a good chunk of time recently worrying that I'm too self-involved. Oh, the irony.

2003-11-10T19:37:00.000-08:00

This is the first time I've ever tried just recording my voice on a tape recorder and make up a poem. A strange sensation, appeals more to the performance side. *** i'm breathing through this existence and waiting to find myself on the other end of speculation where I can redefine the way the recorder works and reinvent the wheel. i want to purchase power with such a means that it hurts,