Wednesday, April 25, 2007


Just thought that one up the other time. There was something on the tv. It looked like it tasted like it looked. People spent hours to get it that way and were paid more than other people make in their whole lives to trick us, who are lazy and watching the thing that looks like it tastes like it looks on the tv. People make in their whole lives sometimes nothing of much substance, and others who make less money than those who try to trick us by making things look one way or another sometimes make very substantial things, but neither parts of this statement are mutually exclusive.

Take the copyright © Take the cola © Take the handlebar moustache and Lenny Dykstra's ability to spit © Take alt 0169 and press it close

If someone were to say to you, I'll give you this bloody nose for free or you could bargain for a hand cheeze grater that doesn't work at all.

If someone who makes something substantial decided to quit doing whatever it was they were doing to make the substantial thing a part of our mutually exclusive existence, the copyright could be a great tool.

otherwise, out of the great blue hallucinogenic yonder we would have to smell the things that looked like the tv and make do with eating things that were less than tasteful.

and if someone said 'I'm not so sure of anything anymore,' fumbling like with keys but with their very words ©

Monday, April 23, 2007

Really, Ray Manzarek?

We stuck our heads into the blue canopy beyond. And a lot came from ingesting certain hallucinogenic substances.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

brillo scratch/a special date

later and later and no instant win
the animals licking their places and salt
a baby in the river
a baby under the cover of water

get back, there without
goldenrod, without a fold of wheat
or coffeepot. the picture
says 'because you are one
of our best'

a baby on the television
stroking his gunservice...

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Drunken stalkers of the world, your future looks promising!

LONDON (Reuters) - A British man has met and married a 22-year-old woman after, by his own account, dreaming of her phone number and then sending her a text message.

David Brown, 24, says he woke up one morning after a night out with friends with a telephone number constantly running through his head. He decided to contact it, sending a message saying "Did I meet you last night?."

Random recipient Michelle Kitson was confused and wary at first but decided to reply and the two began exchanging messages. Eventually they met and fell in love.

"It was really weird but I was absolutely hooked," Kitson told the Daily Mail newspaper. "My mum and dad kept saying 'But he could be an axe murderer', but I knew there was something special about it."

Monday, April 9, 2007

post the day, risen inrelatively good spirits, considering things like what this wrestler would wear

best boasts or lauding for professional wrestling:

the hotter than a hammer

struck diamond

better than butter

horny as a bugle

bee’s knees (whatever’s so wonderful)

with interminable quickness

ass-whoop canister-holder of the big noodle

man of many hats full

of colored plumage

(obviously a hat full of feathers, but any costume suggestions?)

Thursday, April 5, 2007

and on April 5 in history

if'n the internet's any kind of resource: welcome down from the water noah's arc and happy birthday thomas hobbes, what would we do without you both? would the water be safe? would the contract be waterproof?

Monday, April 2, 2007

Letters to the indifferent interior

My Dear B--,

The cheif has called and his calling means something. I don't know quite where the lines stop and the noises start but somewhere within my hollow body there happens to be a tick of sorts. A tick and a rattle and the chief suddenly noticed all of my less formidable restraints--the saran wrap stuck to the walls in the kitchen, the lint from my pockets growing into collector sized blue-grey balls. My linings are full of fluff. Even the best parts are stuffed. Oh, but you speak so harshly with your pen. You settle debts with your openings like they're for rent and I've seen worse things happen to people in the street who act in such a disinterested manner.

You shouldn't command so. I'm beginning to question our correspondence almost wholly. But I know you've known the way. I should go better than I most often do. Yet I trust that you will remain a capable guidance in my life--sometimes it may draw a strained voice from me, but know that I know that you know what to know and sometimes I don't and for me that's settling. To know what's known and what's not.

I remember with a fond mind your former life. I remember like it's living still and when we were made entirely harmonious. But the wings of things--insect and pigeon especially--and the clutter we created, it is truly a wonder they ever let us on board to begin with. I'll never sink your shadow. Or rather, the shadow you cast can never get enough of itself over me, even from the distance we keep.

On another note, I've given the phone up entirely. And I've taken to eating. It's almost as if I never knew how before. There is no trouble this time. I wait to hear how and if you are as well.