saline solutions

i just went to the beach all in one day! well, sandy point state park. i fell asleep. when denise woke me i was all discombobulated and felt scared; then i realized i was just too hot and jumped back into the bay, which was too cold, but evened things out. i soaked my puncture wounds. when it happened, i could see way too far into my hand. i love other people's insides but it took a couple times of looking before i really loved my own. then i couldn't stop.

tomorrow i get to not work and see ryan and maureen and the other guy. i don't know him but he comes to stuff. i mean saturday. tomorrow i do have to work, for 13 hours, but some of those hours involve punching the chickpeas.

i'm living in my new house. the shower is really superb. i might start hygiene.





tried to jump the fence.

three hours at patient first.

no insurance. no x-ray.


doctor smelling of camphor and other various antiquities.


the way a mother carries her grown child up the steps
i never knew that place was haunted
every time they close someone runs down the steps
reached over and it was a poodle instead
the horror


ryan, you should write an ode to my mother since you're reading on her birthday.
her name is pat. she has small teeth.


i have definitely 3 cavities. haven't been to the dentist since 18. never had a problem before. my body is going. when it goes, burn it and divvy it up and everybody do whatever they want, although i specifically request someone pay to have my ashes compressed into a diamond and wear it on their bling bling gold fronts.


on a hot day like today

(the basics)


my sister is not overwhelmed by tall ornamental grasses


it's not easy, you know

somewhere along the line i convinced myself that i like the humidity--that the stinkier and slightly more hairy i am, the more real the weather is, and the more real i become. it's like being a martyr for the reevaluation of hygiene. note that humidity doesn't cause hair; it's just that once you romanticize the effects of summer on your body you just start to let it all go.

there's something about each season that frightens me:
winter: too flat; sad
spring: too bright; overstimulating
summer: too "fun;" exposure
fall: too nostalgic; longing

blogs are for writing about the weather.

rupert is brilliant and we put alfalfa sprouts where the sun don't shine.

somewhere there is a line between teaching a person to conform so as to forge ahead with their own independence, and teaching a person to conform so as to avoid your own humiliation. if one is more okay than the other, it's not by much.

and finally, the only drawings i'm interested in doing are those made by an EEG machine connected to my head, for when i sit and think about all of the work i would make if i had the money/time/energy/etc, or for when i sit and look at other people's work.

that or ouija board diagrams...telepathic Q&As...with texts...or people...or pets...or with someone over the telephone, so they have their board and i have mine...imagined correspondence over a predetermined span of time...



L x W x H

moving is always a little sad.




i am equally undervalued and inept.

i'm not sure why i have a poetry blog, if one could call it that.

today i was humbled. it had to do with the up button.

really it's empathy, not ineptitude; still, ineffective.

yesterday i was reminded and then edited. got the time signature right.

men talk about albums. women talk about that one song.

i wish concept didn't equal competition.
i wish i had a watermelon.

the same thing happened last year--but then when i get in the shower there's that contrast.

when my roommate farts it smells so bad i go deaf. she says it's coming from "outside."


if i may

my cat otis is meowing tiny things in his sleep

he is my best friend

what ryan is doing

ryan has just* pulled his second bottled beer from the refridgerator and is sitting at his computer. it's a beer with a red and gold label. it might be more like a laminate label, like sol. those bottles are amazing. in his house the front door is to the right from where he's sitting and his tv is behind him with a blue couch in front of it. when he sits at the computer he leaves the kitchen light on, which is to the left, but not the light in the room where he is working. he wears a full set of pajamas at night. it is fact that ryan owns a pair of silk pajama pants (he told me in a bar). his bird sleeps in his (ryan's) room and sometimes when the dragonfly mobile turns a little it throws streetlight onto the walls, and the bird makes an extremely cute purring chirp. when ryan rode the tortoise, everyone cheered.

*note that my character analysis of ryan is based almost entirely on blog intake, although i like to think that i have a knack for the astral. clearly CA conrad could kick my pufferbelly ass. i just wanted to say pufferbelly because...pufferbelly.


furrow or the meiotic conundrum
this and pretend you have never seen her
see the acute mechanism of her knee
stuff to give away

o my god, run through the tortilla
true triple crown predilection
cursory railway of fraud irony
[i meant iron-on

see the winner in the trailer
look how he wears his ringer
help the look of disgust digesting
and stop with the kicking, potty

stuff to sell/laminate/reduce
am i the only one to know this
urgency of hesitating terror
tomorrow is just around

still hilarious



is it possible to end up with a blank game screen in tetris, eg the perfect combination of cubes has been placed so as to clear out the bank? the fact that it doesn't seem to ever happen is what makes me keep playing. i wonder what it says about tetris in the book called break free from OCD peeking over the top shelf in my closet. goddammit.



that part about fisting food (below) is true. on fridays i smash up 3 gallons of chickpeas at the crepe shoppe. it's easier to do it with hands than a masher. so i don two latex gloves and smoosh them up in my fists, but inevitably my hands get tired, so i just ball them up and start punching the chickpeas. it really adds another dimension of ABSOLUTE MAYHEM to my weekends.

today i ran full-speed down through suburbia with my 60-lb charge. she is legally blind and with little muscle control but also extremely fast.

gonna learn to build a bike. gonna move some books. my highest handheld tetris score is 110 lines. justin just bought 4-person 3D tetris for his fancy shoot-em-up gaming console system player system. you play it with jockey helmets on, and you have to wear sweaters over your hands. it's hard. yesterday justin and i saw a kid in hampden wearing a virtual reality helmet/eyepiece. really. his avatar told us that there's actually a huge heroin problem in hampden, but that we can trade it for typhoid fever and a wagon wheel. if justin was trapped in virtual reality, i would send my wagon for him. i probably couldn't do much else because i don't even know what peer-2-peer is.

this is all true.

every time i die it's through spontaneous combustion. like clockwork.

i am planning for my first major performance career. unfortunately i can't talk about it except to say that i'll probably just think about it for a long time and not follow through. that, and theoretically it will involve some choreography. think contingent booty bumpin' and tambourine.

never google image search for 'booty' anticipating to find anything involving a tambourine.

tip: when googling for 'booty tambourine,' anticipate this, strangely, nestled within the e-book text of finnegans wake, graciously published by the university of adelaide library in southern australia:


be still my swimsuit of grandiosity

when will it have happened; discord bearing the weight of your 60 lb baby
suddenly where there should be two of some thing; by day the day
by day the
jaunty fissures in half-awakening remembrance; catalogs of
cataloging; it's not that in dreaming there isn't syntax--rather
following all logic, finger clouds redundant with mechination

it owns an alpaca; it owns infinite tricks; its identities opening into it
magic shows are all the rage amongst magicians; metaphor is all the rage
amongst those with little self-confidence; undue hair over the dramatics of
indulgence; and then out with your hand; and then off with definition tattoos
there is something to be said for definite infinitude; approximation

no veiled narrative; rather seeing with an eye toward pointing
nothing is nothing; we imagine our death; we fist food prep and predilection
i imagine the theater of our death; our death becomes my gloved fits
retailing for one handicap; one good guess per shiny recurrence
the testimony backing out of candor; the misuse of singularity



kevin: yeah, im debating the entire thing
you and i are going places
12:46 PM (weaker) right?
me: oooh! is it galapagos?
right? right? (quiet, backing out of room)
kevin: (quieter) going places
12:47 PM me: i wanna go to south america (silent)
URAGUAY! (loud as possible)
kevin: (quiter still) love me
me: you: shhhhh!
kevin: sorry
me: we need to read this out loud
12:48 PM here i go. linear regression. xoxo
kevin: i just seized
never do that again!
12:49 PM so much movement
me: what, induce a seizure?
kevin: from me
(rubs head)
me: (cackles) (really)
k bye. monster.
kevin: word

image search: confessional poet


what shitty-ass poems

the night is embryonic! let's party!

today i saw a finch carry a twig ten times its size.
today people were at the bank.
does anybody want to buy a piece of shit?
the bar inside the rocket is copper with epoxy resin.
none taken. i am a credit card, and i have reached my limit.
in the end, we're all lyric poets. or VISAs. i'll let you know.
at the end of the day, i die in my sleep, and wake disappointed--
not about being alive, but by having to leave.

SUCCESS! (formally WORD@peek) coming soon on narrowhouse


baby steps

tonight was the night i changed my sheets

so i don't have to talk to any people
that's why
soon, something

the father is proud
of how i crushed my
tortilla chips
on that bed of lettuce

his child sucks his fingers

the mother liked that movie
it really--under the dark of night
she goes with a shovel
to steal the most beautiful white gravel

and if you're interested [annuals]

i said "bull." i didn't even know
what it meant. the father said,
"not yet, not yet." i urinated
all over his hands. his father
died inside the minivan.

rumor has it city cleanup
finds jeans in all the trees.
shoes over the lines mean
different things where
people say "sneakers."


from "The Female Praying Mantis: Sexual Predator or Misunderstood?"

In France, people believed a praying mantis would point a lost child home. In Arabic and Turkish cultures, a mantis was thought to point toward Mecca. In Africa, the mantis was thought to brink good luck to whomever it landed on and even restore life to the dead. In the U.S. they were thought to blind men and kill horses.

what i imagine some people are doing tonight

justin is at home playing video games. the one with the shoot-'em-up head blow-offs. bassie is under the side table on his sheep bed, eyes darting from one nothing in particular to another. justin isn't looking at bassie but knows where he is in the room at all times. the video game is turned up really loud. once there was a hailstorm at justin's house and it felt apocalyptic. it was gone as quickly as it came. justin will be in bed in about 45 minutes and might have some goopy candy first. today he joked about masturbating in a bathroom stall but instead did it at home in his office. there was a copy of pynchon on the desk and a small black notebook but neither of these had anything to do with it. it took about 2:32.

kevin is smoking a cigarette on the sofa. it's like a loveseat. he's watching TV but there is a copy of chris' and buck's book in his lap. he's flipping through the channels and his hand is shaking a little bit. the ashtray is black and there are two butts in it. he's thinking about rolling one and listening to the apples in stereo before bed. he will probably be in bed around 11:30. WAIT! no. kevin is watching the sabres game! he's at someone's house. his two weird friends in that one photo booth photo. they're a little bit tipsy. kevin's drinking yuengling. he's doing an impression of someone obnoxious and his knees are jutting out wide apart. today at work he threw away two post-it notes worth of work. he went on a date a couple nights ago but he didn't judge her. they messed around. why not? luckily that blog post involving brushing his glans with a cigarette was, although true, more of a joke than something truly injurious. today kevin ate some kind of wrap but tonight he's eating pizza.

adam is at home with kat in their new apartment. there are maybe three boxes left to unpack. it's weird because although she was gone, it feels like before now that she's back. there's a potted plant in the corner but it's kind of brown. they're eating some kind of stir-fry and they just took a bath. the books are on the stereo. the lighting isn't that great--the kitchen light is on but it's kind of yellow and in the winter will be a lot more depressing than it is right now. today adam had meetings, including one at lunch, but it was with jgp and jon lee and they joked around a lot about something to do with specific types of anime (i didn't get it). adam will probably be in bed with kat around 12:30 but they'll have sex until 1:12 or so.

ryan is eating a snack. he's trying not to sit back down at the computer but doesn't really have anything else to do, so he does. then he gets back up because he's listening to peter gabriel but is so sick of it. so he puts on iron and wine instead, even though he's kind of sick of that too. now he's sitting on the couch and turns the TV on. ryan has cable. he switches to the animal planet because he sees an image of a praying mantis and they are so beautiful and weird. it's a show about the world's most extreme maters. i saw a female praying mantis eat the head of a male on my brother's window screen when i was about four, and my dad was there. ryan's first animal memory has to do with a frog--a toad, to be exact. he's preturbed about his day yesterday and worried about sleeping tonight, although really he's been sleeping fine, and when he gets in bed around 1am will fall asleep within 4 minutes. his last falling-asleep image will have both a dragonfly and a room-sized computer in it, and someone who's supposed to be an old girlfriend but looks more like this other woman from the news.

molly is in bed chewing on her springy, rubber chewy thing and she has a green wooden peg in her hand. she's drifting off; she just had a little seizure but no one knew about it (not even her). today she ate half of her french toast at school and swung on the swingset for about 2.5 hours tonight. she's a little stressed out because her parents put a clear plastic shelf over the VCR and DVD player so she couldn't push all the buttons until they break any more. today she really liked that song on her tape player that goes, "cousins, cousins, here come the boys, bedlam, mayhem, noise noise noise."

my parents are getting ready for bed. my dad is already in bed. his hands are behind his head and the covers are pulled up over his chin. he's rubbing his feet together and it sounds so crusty. my mom is in the bathroom clearing her throat and running the water. her new tooth thing feels strange in her mouth. the replacement tooth will happen next week. she's wearing pajamas that are pink and thin; a tank top and some pants that look like you could wear them during the day. she flushes the toilet and walks out into the pitch-dark room with so much more confidence than i could ever muster because her rods and cones adjust really fast. my dad is already snoring.

i'm procrastinating studying for my final in the morning because i think i'm pretty great and don't have to really study, or because, almost unbeknownst to myself, i am sabotaging my plan for nursing school because i feel like it wasn't my idea, or wasn't a fully-formed idea. then i remember that i'm never sure of myself and never commit to any idea, or un-commit later. but i'm not really sabotaging it. so there. i imagine that i am imagining i'm in the beach shack i always imagine, which has something to do with strange death or calm. waving beach grasses, gray cloudy sky, can't tell the time of day. waiting for someone to come home. pensive but not good or bad. this sounds so generic but it's really a place i think about, i swear, which i've not invented but also never visited. it has to do with the way i will feel when i find them again.

l. ron hubbard endorses married to the sea, and this blog

is your voice monotonous, rather than varied in pitch?
do you browse through railway timetables, directories, or dictionaries just for pleasure?
do you get occasional twitches of your muscles, when there is no logical reason for it?
is your life a constant struggle for survival?
would you "buy on credit" with the hope that you can keep up the payments?
do you often "sit and think" about death, sickness, pain and sorrow?
are you a slow eater?

John Montagu, Fourth Earl of Sandwich, a British politician in the eighteenth

century, was so fond of gambling that he spent the whole day playing, while
devouring slices of bread with a filling between them. Little did he know
that his name would become eponymous with that food.


last night i dreamt about leggings. i wore leggings under everything, even other pants. then i reenacted the scene from beetlejuice where they draw a chalk door on a brick wall and it opens into ghost mayhem. in my dream i smashed my body into the drawn door and hurt my face.


so far today: fax machines, overcharged coffee, serendipitous harpists, realization that being back in school means taking finals and writing easy papers about recent biological issues. my choice: face transplants.


wages/earnings; beckoning meow-meow (bed)

sudden ownership is nice [cureo; about me]
stunning. happens in the hallway.
happens on carpet; on beltways.

but when it happens, others--
bright logic of return;
buzzing near the front of the head.

this child can find a green peg
in the grass. this child's bloodcurdling
happiness attracts the neighbors.

shabby chic in its alien sweatpants,
extinguishing between behavior and era
hard to say, either way, and hits its head (ha ha).


"it's mah eggs, not mah ewvries!"

wheel inside a whale sings
secondary chickens
coup d'etat in the median
[hold me]
humid on the sill; ceramic, or transparency

bottom of my pants
tit for tit in every solid color
your little heart desires
to desire

turn on the fan
i feel a content coming on

album cover

adam has masterfully designed the first (self-titled) album for my one-man-band, actual bottom. in my band, i am the only member. there are symbols (symbols) attached to my bottom for when the music goes bump-bump.

it's really the bunny in the back that makes it so funny

dreams can come true

look at me, baby, i'm living proof.

i feel like it's okay to just put up stuff that i like--i think that's what a blog is.


mule car

Donkeys are frequently considered among the most morose member of the family Equidae, although some posit that the faces of mules and even hinnies, in their darkest moments, rival the donkey's saturnine visage.

dunkeys'r not stubbrn! no,
self-conscious, like,
crossing a brook, like,
a mule would,

there is sufficient donut
to support the claim that
you are no longer
inhabiting your body.
no. it is eye who have ewe.

come with us?
"gets you right here. and here."
come with us.
for many minutes i have looked
for my thought.

i would say i recognize the dog
no, it are chinchillas, thrice
and each time garages of neglect
somehow they have managed
without me and my grooming.

it are not the dog in the wheat.
for shame, i have wandered, o.
beef multitudes, each time to
the veterinarian, and my mother
continues to save us all. in dreams.


one could one would one may one might one should one just might one can one will one can't one won't one may one may not one time this one time




hearty evidence for
inert choking (learned)

this is a clatogram.
this is not a streetmap.
(look it up)

you know,
this can not be nothing.
how frustrating.

(he finds this "refreshing")
i guess it's something.


firecrackers. i bet it was just firecrackers.

via donut blog:

Thought or thinking is a mental process which allows beings to model the world, and so to deal with it effectively according to their goals, plans, ends and desires.

Inaccurate. Just look at me.



  • Handshakes. This is a more formalized type of contact, frequent among older individuals and only denoting feelings of friendship if emphasized.
  • Holding hands
  • High five
  • Hugging
    • Pound hug This embrace, primarily used by young males, has become popular among Western subgroups because it expresses affection while maintaining a remote posture, so as to preclude any homosexual connotations[1].
  • Walking arm-in-arm
  • Placing an arm over the other's shoulder or waist
  • Kissing
  • Eskimo kissing
  • Imitation of fight (e.g. a punch on the shoulder, most common among young males)

my sister had a near-lucid dream that aliens visited her, and nonverbally explained the big topics. they asked if she wanted to leave her body and come with them back to before/god, and she made the choice to go with them and learn, but not die. they said basically all of buddhism. tonight we went to a place called rocky run, which is jgp's mina's favorite restaurant. the menus were about 2' x 3'. it was really nice.

pound hugs forever,


stroll scroll

sure, bringing a seven-layer burrito could be considered
but in the time it took, topography, which tent, and suddenly.
one name missing against gardens, F
w, Fp, MOM & DAD, simultaneously
and in so doing, a skip across other names into what would be called
"blustery" but now new kentucky blue, some cross acrosT a gradient.

disorient, until the trash skips away, on purpose, pulling hueys
(there must (every kid (is it...wait...))
let it, and indent where the there-there swept. ajar and waiting.
a jar of expected signifiers, instead, anticipatory duration crudely
in that singularity we block our boggy luggage into position.

we came home and she fell fast asleep upright in the chair was surrounded.
let's play fish market, throw a box inside a boxed-up ketchup
rumblin' with melons and knives, swear that polynesian newscaster
shelving electronegatives into the ledger, that pig-tailed cat
if you can hear this poem, prove inside the ground forever.



nothing more
(dumb) acrost the
gill slits
flubber fuck
in front of my whole class
and then
hit the big time


a blog is a good place to get all of your fake first-persons out; lowercase narratives; you can make your list poem and not worry about it too much

theme opposed to trend - dropsy kind of mutable, usually

i need a project or a person
flip two to move, no car, look, no sound, hands to hand

rejecting the test altogether - some genome (poor pup)

one magic to magic

not equal but not unequal
hands are weak thus
and stole her goddamn photograph
made practice to poem

when closer, a hemophiliac's mystique
perspiring with each

two where there should be none

and not about; a neither

i find this
and then find it annoying


word of the day

stormy petrel (STOR-mee PE-truhl) noun

1. Any of various small sea birds of the family Hydrobatidae
having dark feathers and lighter underparts, also known as
Mother Carey's Chicken.

2. One who brings trouble or whose appearance is a sign of coming trouble. Kevin Thurston.

i was kind of drunk (below)

but i'm really happy with that picture


rocket to venus, come in venus

make-out amish moustache
get a load of this brown stuff
wikipedia promise
at the very least
inhibitions are affected
there is a man
he has a head


intuitive tilt-table density
test; tolerance study
until later; proliferation
manipulates too many
AHA! infinitude for you
or some random program
to wed the whistle and the theme


successful success!
correspondence multiple
compete with my poems
posterity suitcase!
pointed at that point
at which
his head
my word!
all points


much like our planet
but wouldn't
too invested to 2%
and won't know what to do
come arrival


li'l tipsy
we covered much terrain
he rang his bell
(turns and learns new things)
(should and turns new things)


*complete lack of desire for legacy other than having ashes condensed into a diamond and worn
*lack of knowledge of contemporary media and utilization thereof
*difference between utilization and exploitation; difference between applying form to media and tailoring media to fit form
*collaboration as test and collaboration as intimacy; aesthetic vs tendency


hold many
don't have any

(colony, protectorate)
(not directive)
(tiny island)


"when there is no more hope, there is no more fear"
-chris toll


techno (various)

i used to listen to a lot of acid jazz. "a lot" is not exactly true.

today i ran over my phone with my car. actually i ran over my entire backpack. why is something like that so funny? i don't know. it just is. my last phone floated down the street and into a drainage ditch in the rain when i flew over the handlebars of my 60 lb yellow bike. then a republican found it and i picked it up, and then my sister's puppy ate the phone's face off. for now i will just justify my latent antisocial behavior and screen by default.

everyone at school dates someone in the army.

personal ad from statistics class today, for the woman to my left:
"talks to self." [check]

i gained weight when kevin was here. i have to mail his pajamas back to him even though he said i could keep them--i just don't have the kind of room normal-sized clothing takes up. when justin was here and saw me in my pajamas he said i looked like i was getting ready to go to a captain beefheart concert. if he only knew. last night i dreamt of flourescent alligators hiding in the bushes, my grandmom, and tetanus.

my new room is entirely covered with stucco, except for the floor. there will be a motif. suggestions welcome, as are any giant plaster seashells and impasto ocean paintings.