dearest liquid,
you are such a friend to me.
i can never decide if you are black or just really dark brown
or some color all your own
that they will someday name a paint after.
i enjoy your so many flavors,
cheery cherry, voluptous vanilla, and even, oddly, your twist of lemon variety is strangely refreshing
(i am so excited--- what could be next?!)
yet even while standing alone your sugary glory reigns from high
i have no idea why you come in diet, or (shudder) caffeine free form
when you are simply liquified dessert
who wants to fuck with that?

when i finally have my restaurant, thousands of years in the future, this will be a sandwich. here is a sneak preview, i know yall can hardly wait that long...
a french dip is a roast beast and mozz on french bread dipped in au jus, n'est ce pas?
an american dip, therefore, is boiled hot dog medallions and american chz on white bread dipped in ranch.
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

doesn't that sound good !!!!! i will grill it of course. don't you worry bout that......

paulnotpaul says "i'm not really sure that's the kind of feedback he's lookin for"
but he also said it's "right on"

so hey.....

paul,

disclaimer: i go off on tangents when i'm trying to make a point (as you most likely know), so....with that in mind....
ok--here is a little story about my weekend thus far that directly concerns this site. paulnotpaul and i went to comix cafe in the hopes to be entertained with 'something different,' which i am ever on this elusive quest for and which subsequently drives us both crazy as the results are usually disappointing. case in point for this joint, for after wasting a good amount of time in line, and then $ on tix and bad food, the "comedy" began. it was disgusting. the bit opened up with the one guy, who has an awesome talent for making sound effects and accents, unfortunately using it to chronicle a "typical" day as an iraqi. so the sound effects were air raid sirens, helicopters, and bombs dropping in the middle of prayer chanting, and an iraqi (or the american accented version of what an iraqi sounds like--arabic is quite a language to behold when spoken but what do we care, the whole world should speak english right) saying "this is not good". people were eating it up. we were outraged. i'm still not sure why i didn't stand up and scream that it's *our* fucking president's agenda/vendetta/pocketbook that got us there, and that people are being fucking *killed*, and the reason 9/11 happened in the first place is because ignorant fuck americans sit in comedy clubs and laugh about what they think it's like to be foreign, and what they think it's like to be bombed. i should have stood up and screamed that, but i'm sure a joke would have been made of "one of those anti-war america-hating liberals who don't like it when the freedom to say such things is being fought for" so instead we just got up and left, 3 minutes into the show.
well, it ended up being a good thing, because we (finally) came to the realization that to go out into the world and try to entertain ourselves is folly, and we're being fucking stupid to keep trying. the free time that we do have has to be devoted to doing things in our community to better it, otherwise we're just as stupid as the stupid fucks amused by the lowest common denominator, paying money to be entertained. really, we have little right to bitch seeing as how we don't do much to remedy.
AND NOW, THE POINT IS> as an example of just the opposite, we talked about you and this project and the community it's formed. how this site has attracted writers who for the most part are fed up with america and with the way society functions, and who need a forum in which you can be both informed and entertained as a person awake, thinking, and actually employing their senses. not a single person who writes on this site would laugh at someone making a joke over an iraqi praying and a bomb dropping on him or her. that means a lot. a lot of people are sleeping, or don't care. if they aren't, you don't often get the opportunity to meet or talk about those things. i don't post news or political updates but i read what others have and form opinions on it. i can read about hodown's adventures in nyc, or see holly's neato photoshop thingys, and matt's drawings, and (tonite albeit) zack's photos. it's art and tech stuff and ideas and anger and stories and daily this and thats and personalities and whatever you want to say, but never boring or the typical self-involved blogging. and that is a great thing, so kudos to you.
and then there is the writing, of course. anything that gets me writing and not feeling weird about it, like it's supposed to be this big something great, is a great frickin feat. writing is a hang up, i'm not sure why. oh and it's weird, but the little star plays its tricks.... you should definitely keep that.
and i think i've fallen in love with my 3 boobed galactic she warrior....can i be her someday?
that's all for now. t
t

some kind of news is shrinking my space,
uniform news for a uniform place, today i wondered-if i was a machine, just
what kind of machine would i be, movies and music are nothing but words, letters like seeds that are eaten by birds but rather than some bird of paradise, these ones are crows who only suffice
when clocks are ticking
and ticking
and ticking away

you know, machines break someday

oooooooooohhhhh lord, the world is sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo strange lord canya help me? info overload-- system reboot, just how do we choose which moments of our day will be made into speech is it a choice at all or are our personalities like programs that scan through so much, choosing what pertains what lies in what we discard i wonder is there a way to find out without chemical

when making nylon, as long as you supply the chemicals under the correct processes, the product will never stop making itself

dearest terry et.al.,
please do not throw us in friendship jail!

our weekend of fun was abruptly ended
since consolations must be lended.

wishing of so much snow time mirth
in a cabin like lincoln was birth'd

but alas! t'was birth's opposite
that kept us apart from it.

sorry to all whose funds were decreased
by those who must visit the recently deceased

hoping fun was had by all...
trisha and paul

i am too young it seems, but regardless there is a strange tickling of nostalgia floating on the edges as of late. i am not even a fan of nostalgia, so it is a curious feeling.
even curiouser is a sense of nostalgia for things i haven't even experienced yet. like i will get a glimpse of dappled sunlight through a tree canopy in peru, or holding my child. but these images have an ever so dull edge of sadness that can be sweet, mixed with a weird floating no time feeling.
maybe nostalgia is just the wrong word. but what word might there be? maybe presque vu, i definitely need another language to describe this photo album of the mind thing going on.

maybe these are the first whisperings of my spring.

whoever 'you' are. on franklin/linwood and north there's a tiny park where the skateboarding punks do their grind hootchacallits and generally make a lot of racket or so some namelessentity must think, because a generic sign was put up, just a white background with plain black lettering that says NO SKATEBOARDING. (someone scribbled out the NO w black marker and wrote in yes, ha ha)
there's no city ordinance or penalty violation information on the sign, which leads me to believe it was put up by one of the neighboring businesses, one being a lawyer's firm, the other a dentist. you can't just do that though, it's a park.
the park is also used as a play area for elementary school children who go to the charter school on the same corner. on nice days, they'll all go outside and hoot and holler and play mother-may-i and such whatnot childlike games, but generally cause a ruckus for quiet type citydwellers such as myself, who just want to garden at 2pm. in peace. without the incessant screaming of children. what i need to do is find out who "owns" this park, if the yuppie ass charter school (for which yupass vehicles have made my parking situation bloody torturous) bought it "for the kids" i sure hope not, cause the minute that's negative i'm hanging my own sign that says NO EXCITED SCHOOLCHILDREN right next to the goddamned one about no skateboarding. bah fucking humbug, brats.

Envoie-moi un e-mail. i just remembered a dream i had, except i can't say for sure if it was a dream, or a tv program. this is especially grave given the nature of the dream:

a girl flops down face up on a bed, her face is covered with her hands, then she takes her hands away. she is in distress, and makes a wail like so. she's wondering 'what am i going to do?' but then, in the exact same bed (against a different wall of the room) lies the exact same girl, who starts telling her just what she's going to do, and nastily. she is quite diabolical, this one. the "camera" then flashes to a bunk above the first girl's bed (tv style: not seen previously so as to reveal excitingly) where lies the exact same girl, who agrees in a practical manner with the nasty one, and explains to the first girl that it's a sound plan. the first girl isn't disturbed, but the watcher is: to see the others in flesh is what makes it so.

i remember being surprised that there were three. i remember after the third one, the story cut off somehow, either by changing channel or commercial or another sleep cycle, which is fucked up that i can't say which. like a blackout or a fugue state. it seems too weird and personal (the girl looked a lot like claire danes, who i think i bear just a little bit resemblance to) to be tv, but i remember thinking that while watching it. in a dream, can you be the 'star' and be watching at the same time? and if it did happen in some tv reality induced state of my 'real life', whatthefuckwasthat?