(* = pinged in last 12 hrs)
||wFriday, September 16, 2005
We went running down the hill
Looking at the pictures in the gallery
Shopping for music and new shirts
Turning on the cable
And moving across the water
From website to website
Driving the whole way in the passing lane
Subscribing to every magazine
Going to parties every night but Tuesday
Trying all the liquids and powders
Jumping right into the deepest arguments
And falling in love with each other
Every night for six or seven months
On the way back from lunch with Chris
Back from the auction of his grandfather's stamps
In Hong Kong he looks good he's writing a novel
I stop at Chase to deposit my check
I've been old fashioned since the company
Overpaid me by thousands of dollars my first month
I see the words Taskin Mumcuoglu on a desk placard
And hear Al Green singing that he's still in love
I don't think I've heard anything so beautiful in a bank
Since my second mortgage
And what is all this about love anyway
I'm feeling cut not bleeding but explosed
Like the electrical and plumbing
Of a building that's been struck by a large object
Love this terrible unbeatable team worse than the Yankees
Always in the media always up and down
It can never do enough to please its owner
Except win every time and we all have to root for it
I don't want to I never have I've always wanted
The impossible come-from-nowhere story
This is as the English teachers call it my tragic flaw
But it's September and my time my team is doing
Either what it always does or what it does
The year before it does something amazing
I don't want this love anymore it's what
It's so cruel always looking like that promised bliss
Then turning out to be everyday life my life
Don't get me wrong I prefer living
I go to the magazine stand it's the middle of the world
Assembly no new NewAfrican the Southwest Review will do
I pick up two more sets of MegaMillion numbers
As I tend to when the jackpot is greater than 100
By everyday life I mean war hot and cold
I mean I'm not asleep in history class
I can see the smoke rising from the field
I can understand it but I can't understand it
I enlist I show up I have faith in the leaders
I'm wounded they send me back to the front
Metaphors are for the truly stupid
And I am for metaphors
Too what too crazed scared or just tired
To articulate what I imagine of your experience
Too slow to know what to do with my analysis or yours
Not slow but possessed of a misplaced faith
People of the future, we knew in advance
About the flooding, the heat, the die-offs
Knew in advance that we were waiting too long
Still I for one believed
In truthfulness compassion forebearance
Whatever those are or mean
When you don't control capital
I don't control capital
I can barely manage to tell capital
What capital's frantic confused footsoldiers
Are seeing on the ground
It's not good it never is
Except at the end of the teaching day
Throat hoarse, back tired top to bottom
All that talking taking effect
Over the following hours and days
Let's don't call it love anymore
Even though I would say that's the best name
Let's make the feeling strange again
Less of an obligation, more of a sweet
Brimful clacking unto the roofslates
That what has started goes on through absence
Like light through space ok that's corny
But it's true I feel warm in your presence
Like a cat following the sun
On its tour of the windows of the house
Metaphors are for everybody to have enough
And similes are wandering the land
I'm not wandering I'm sitting at my desk
Putting one foot in front of the other
And you today are all about revenue
In your unguarded moments you have a different laugh
In your kitchen you have a ladder
In your bedroom you have a self-portrait
You ask me what I want to tell you
I can answer that, how much time do you have
It may take fifty or sixty years
A beautiful city is built on an earthquake fault
Or underwater, or on a harbor, same thing
When the world gets hot
The people of these cities live every day
With the intensity of survivors
They call it a fault but it's just the earth changing
They say "myth of Sisyphus"
But we're just getting up every day
Waiting for this monster we made up
To come tickle us to death
I'm alone it's ok I'm collaborating on something
That makes the motorcades do their Three Stooges whoop
Just doing one thing and then another
Which sometimes turns out to be
The first thing's next part
A playwright workshop in New London.
CASEY: Yeah I don't care about that.
MILLER: Tell me something else I don't already know.
CASEY: We don't need more negative noodling.
CHURCHILL: God how much energy it takes
Just to say one thing with all these nudniks
Breathing and complaining. But I am alive!
OVID: Big deal, alive.
(RIDING): Big deal, alive.
CHURCHILL: And yet, I'm half aware that these voices
At this table are all my own voice, all my own wish
To be held back from some imminent disaster...
BOWLES: Morning feelings, the warmth of sheets
With an angry woman not yet conscious next to you --
BARNES: Why do these children write poems
About their grandparents? Why are they not
Stealing diamonds on horseback? But the beer drinkers
Seem to be the ones who attract crowds.
WEINSTEIN: The problem, if it is a problem,
Is that as Frank said, you can't really send a message,
Or maybe it was Sam Goldwyn. No, he was
"Writers are schmucks with Underwoods."
THOMAS: I spilled a glass on my writing table
And wrote Under Milk Wood.
ELIOT: I spooked myself with my poems
And turned to counterfeiting Nick and Nora
For the conflicted Unitarian set.
ELECTRA: The only song anyone wants to hear
Is the one sung out of impossible love.
DARNIELLE: The death instinct feels pretty good,
Apparently. As does everything nearly feral.
CASEY: And you bring in too many characters!
MILLER: Too many characters.
CHURCHILL: I bring in my feelings of escape
And release, of lifting my head and speaking up.
A playwright workshop in Moscow.
CHEKHOV: Looking at American movies I realize
I probably shouldn't have said that, about the gun.
TURGENEV: Oh but it's true. As I said
Climbing into the lifeboat ahead of the women,
My heart rate is elevated, give me the oars.
DOSTOEVSKY: Wrap it up, gentlemen.
TOLSTOY: Gentlemen, go on.
O'BRIEN: Gentlemen, what'll it be, lights or darks.
CHEKHOV: Darks, and a plate of crackers and onions.
BLACKBURN: Those guys are so fixated on the big picture.
OPPENHEIMER: I know what you mean.
BLACKBURN: Don't you see, what gives us life
Just as much as our big decisions and heartbreaks
Are the little glimpses (muffled by roar of laughter from the Russians)
OPPENHEIMER: All the same, I kind of want to drink
Somewhere they let women in, Paul. Or blacks.
BLACKBURN: America is changing, Joel. Williams
Saw that, and pointed the way. Why aren't everybody
OPPENHEIMER: They think Williams is a hick, Paul.
If they'd just look at Spring and All (muffled by roaring Russians)
A playwright workshop in New Haven.
DURANG: "For god's sake don't be a drag"
May or may not mean dress everyone in drag.
FO: What ho!
T-SHIRT: "Enough with the scientology already."
SCHECHTER: The distance from Sam's social experiments
To Gilligan's Island, I'm no numismatist
But I think we all knew from Spalding's paws
How big a dog he would grow to be.
SHEPARD: Patti, this is Jessica. Jessica, Patti.
MAPPLETHORPE: A flower is a game,
Silver gelatin is a room
Where everyone talks but not to anyone in particular.
SMITH: The poets can't possibly understand
How much power they have so I'll take it.
LANGE: Sam baby, can we go get dinner now?
COURTENAY: So I said, for a larf,
What are your turn ons? And she said:
TURGENEV: The trick is to be at home
Among the imaginably wealthy, and also
For there to be no gossip magazines yet.
DURANG: And yet we imagine ourselves
In a conflict-free world where we stay young
Not just unwrinkly and full heads of hair
But sleep doesn't come into it, or petsitting.
WEAVER: Darling I didn't imagine
Being the bitch who fries space bugs.
O'HARA: Something terribly important is going on
Involving being a surly fuckoff with a sure hand
And that is our modern idea of purity,
Consistent aggression we scan for tenderness.
KOCH: That's not what it's like at all.
DURANG: There has to be a woman standing
Near the center of the stage, unreadable.
WEAVER, SMITH, LANGE (at once): I used to know how to do that.
MAPPLETHORPE: Unreadability only gets you so far.
FO: Oh do you think so.
||wMonday, September 05, 2005
I've never cared much for this phrase
But then I've never much wanted to stare
Into what it might mean or why anyone
Might say it -- it doesn't start fights,
This eating shit business, even though
It sounds to me like it would. What
Do I know? I've taken (like so many others
I know, have loved, worked for, smiled at)
So many less loaded phrases for insults,
I want to break into a car
And not take anything
Or go running in the woods
Singing arias from Telemann
Speak truth to women
And lies to money
Waking up every morning
To the motrin of drayage
Plume ferns agnostic a much
Needed window blink oboy oboy
Mostly though I want
The presence of mind
To make a meal when I'm hungry
And get laid when I'm what,
Awake? some dreamer
Of romantic spice racks
I'm turning out to be
Some Bugs Bunny shooting
Han Solo first
Some index card essayist
Of the Chevrolet Impala endzone machismo
Some tivo programmer
Some friend of literature's less guarded mimicking
Of the plaza outside the Department of Energy
Well, in that case
Let me just shuffle
And deal, can I get
A bless for rest of yes the best southwest
By west confess no less to guess for
Standing in the path of the oncoming car
Dreaming of the light changing
At the turn of the season
Admiring the prose of Ford Madox Ford
And generally being
The good friend
A bit clueless with segues
And opportunities to give gifts
But on average maybe not as
How you say
As the expression implies.