Wizards know how to love better

Wizards

It all depends which D&D crowd you're referring to: the pimple-faced geek future Libertarians who played sober and thought Mountain Dew gave a great buzz, or the Daily Kos types who were too stoned to care about the greenish smoke wafting up through mom's house from the basement. I'll leave it to others to decide which demographic is currently more brain-damaged.

But I have to confess that only in my worst nightmare can I imagine the specialized Libertarian Party meaning of the word "dungeonmaster."

What I'm looking at. What are you looking at?

Unicornicopia

I don’t want to miss the Festival of Lunar New Year due to Spontaneous Meeting

I want to make well
Make it or break it
I want to sabotage a little hole in the ground
And withdraw particles that are dangerous for man
Whoabots Without Internet
Provide helpful connection
We are trying hard to understand
Liaisons to promote genius sharing
Of prior tested capability

I want to survive honestly
Affecting cells with resentful looks
Because the job market is flooded with fakers
Who find the soil there nutrient laden
I find an endearing hold of my friend’s hostage baby once it grows
During the baptism the substituted recipient objects
Everyone’s around me and wearing expired pop costumes
We have called the waiting taxi
Of human objectification

There is no Order in Cocoa Beach
No tradition, no fest
No profits and no reason I should be playing out the last tunes
On last year’s costume because of dulling meetings
And everlasting contracts

I’d prefer not to be coming to my senses in an ice bath
Holding someone else’s kidney
Asking am I an undeserving constituent
Answering to no man because I’m entrepreneur
Friendly, out in the cold cookie monster
Of slumlords! Fed off with macadamia

I was just this moment offering my excuse
For missing Lunar New Year.

food stuff

Good stuff slams democracy
Pounding leftovers into a easily conveyed mass
As being so crucial we can’t hold it down anymore.
Put my name as something between hot stripper
Dying in the animal zapper, Agribiz understandably
I stuff this chocolate into what I adore
Wet frou-frou papayas dance in hydrants
With my delight I stuff parcels and overpay
Machines working hard so you eat goodness
I have eaten the very specificity
(Finally) I’m chocolatay delite
Wonderful fucking question

Why are papayas in so much debt
Diplomats are coming into question
How chocolate can conjure conflict neutral spooning
Shoots out the olfactory and finds contractual
Sharing felchy bullseye--> Who’s into cocoa

Not this lame excuse of intervention called carob
Dracula scissoring two blondes in spaceage Nike Vlad Putin Masks
Their idea is making chocolate look better
And more mature,
Taking the medal for shiniest papaya…pre-tourniquet
Hands to hold the juicy contender

Back when it wasn't cool to fake out Poetry.com...

Wait...is that "Captain Spock's" signature?

Paranoia

Today I'm getting a strange paranoid sensation. It might have something to do with the death, five years ago, in the apartment where I now live. It might, also, have to do with Susan Sontag's hauntingly simple Preface to WRITING DEGREE ZERO, or it might have something to do with my diet: very little veggies.

The cause was cancer. The bartender at Mexican Restaurant down the street says the body sat in the apartment for weeks until it was disposed of. Wait for relatives or kin. No record of this incident can be found in New York State databases. No complaints have been filed. Negligence? He had a pet snake; reportedly died too. How long was the snake forced without food? How to make an animal outlive its owner only to succumb?

Sontag is off the mark. History doesn't give newer faces to writers -- you're born with your face -- but more chances at masking. We choose which to use and when, and this choice architecture doesn't exist in the world of literary creation alone. Barthes' "later periods" cannot be judged as demonstrating a more mature position vis-a-vis style and form than his previous work because his previous writing remains accessible/accessory to him. He uses the tool that applies to the scenario. Because there is some going back. The masks are different, the tools diverge, and each flag varies. I raise a flag for flarf, I raise a flag for quietude, I raise a flag for form. Form party. Neither represents an unflinching fact, an organic potion summarizing where I am as a writer, but rather causes me to rethink my afore-focused intention, an assertion, a nod toward a certain moment of reaction or statement. A progression of an artform isn't chronological once time passes, because memory negates historical linear time lines. You don't say we don't go back once ahead. Rumination is every which way, back and forth, splayed like the legs of a jack. I can go back to writing love songs at any time. Love songs are predatorial entries for some into poetry, writing, and song.
Intentional reversion to previous modes from our present viewpoint adds focus and accrual of furnishings, but maturity? So my paranoia comes from the recidivism of these reversions, and what to do with we're going over the same tracks. Nietzsche?

And so, Sontag would be correct if she noted our view of historical experiences, and how this experience is entrenched in a commodity system: (for example) Gabriel García Márquez must write the "Márquez" in order to sell. He cannot mature and he cannot expand over the recognizable Márquez. What lines are recognizably Márquez are the exact copies of Márquez 1968, Soledad, Márquez, Cólera, etc. His own fiction is locked.

Outside of this system, others try to be "good," write "well," do well what we do, etc. There are attempts toward failure and toward boredom. These latter forces are more recognizable as being "experimental" inasmuch as they are uncertain enemies of commodity at best accomplices in a system in which some works must inherently find themselves on top (see, for example, Amazon Sales Rank).[It should also be noted that Márquez has never been formally experimental, and after Soledad, he hasn't been experimental at all.]

So, should "Gabo" Márquez experiment, the need to succeed would prove a challenge, but since he wouldn't actively seek failure ("engaged" literature wouldn't actively seek failure), he nor his work can be challenged.

PS. I'm not sure about this idea now that I type it out, I'm going to have to sleep on it...need greens.

Roseanne Barr's post on her blog, cited here, is amazing and flarfy:

"all celeb news is calling me to come on their shows and talk about my "attack" on brangelina. They say nothing about my attacks on howard dean, pumas, obama, hillary, maureen dowd, bush cheney, pelosi, congress, religion capitalism and satan though...I liked angelina til i heard her say she likes insane mccain for potus. By the way, I think elizabeth hasselberg is a f'r s're closet case that wants to get whipped by sherri shepherd in a black corset while old babs slaps a riding crop on both of their exposed butt-oxes. love, crackpot granny!"

Roseanne, you lick the gloved palm of the poet muse!

Finding Your True Identity

Matt Damon owns it like hot terminal endpoints
Seeking to disrupt actions of US Covert Ops
Hunting him, anti-locking hungry and loving at once
He’s got an eye for territory as severance
The same size as me.
But authority is sleight and overruns closed circuit
In an attempt to assassinate journalists
How dare they bring that spelling in
Where there are a lot of people
Going to jobs the movie doesn’t talk about

Matt Damon has a hot rescue attempt at one point—
Is owned – And here he lets his hot asshole act,
A great display of rubber: choosing “innery” over gluttony
He fakes a call to local police to foil the intruders
And fights in a bathroom using a towel
A grappling he learned back when he couldn’t remember
He lives at the end, but we are unsure and unique
Because the camera is at the bottom of the ocean
Section of water he falls into
Murky and dark with end music playing
But the receptionist he saved smiles so we know he lives.

One of my earliest writings (in my possession)

Dear Mom and Dad,

I wish you would let me stay up longer than Caitlin because I am older than her. Second she also needs more rest. Third I don't go to sleep until 9:30, so why can't I stay up till 9:00. Fourth I don't see why I go to bed at 8:30 when I could stay up until 9:00 like normal people.

Ryan

The Internet as Language Limitation

In using search engines for our research, we are forced to limit word combination and language used to describe those ideas. Our language, if we are to find the correctly "googled" object, must be precise. We see what works and what generates the most search results, and what doesn't.

The Internet is training us to use less and less in our desire for precision rather than accuracy, and I don't like it one bit.

la historia oficial

Mitad homenaje a la democracia argentina, mitad polémica que intenta liberar el pueblo de la sombra "dictadorera," habrá que ver como termina....

Old done new

When the snow falls I will be safe
I will huddle with lunch and will not react
I will be slow, like I wanted to as a kid imagining that being an adult is adult.
I would pound my chest: A thousand snowblower sale
In the ice age without sandwiches
Looking for a fight, hot dog milk? I thought of these combinations
A whole other ballpark

Just THINKING of a nosebleed means I’m going for it
About a master's degree.
This exact parka. Spoke?! Not now, bike. Stay in.

What could General William Tecumseh Sherman read?
How about snow falls on cedars but I will be safe XXL!
Who peed? Nice pretty ponies or your fire sale?
How about the engine warms the gift
The only gift I was given and lost it
To the old age home.

It doesn't matter. Snow talks but I’m not hearing nonsense.
Chest operations nice tits.

Review

New at Amazon...

The kazoo is a fun toy.
The kazoo is a funny toy.
The kazoo is a swinging koi.
The kazoo is thrusting we don’t ask why.

I Have Sometimes Called Gas the Greatest Invention

[A repost of a piece I've been working on, unfinito]

I wanted to go places but then I had no car
I have sometimes called things coming out of my nose
Great inventions then I realized their sad little limitations
I wanted to kill for gasoline but I had no car
There was a limitation to transportation: I couldn’t be everywhere at once
I wanted to be Skeletor but my gas face didn't
I wanted gasoline to become a face but my mask car
Was in the garage I couldn't own taxes are limits
A bear with a can of meth places on your overalls
I’m a shell of my self which wants bush and gas in my car

She wanted my Skeletor by my gas face didn’t
Accept Skeletor or tell Skeletor the truth
My particle accelerator extended timeout
But my Chevy Castro found space lacking
Skeletor wanted me places but I had no sister
Even he had limitations on who
Everyone wanted to ride the spaceship but gas
A Skull and Crossbones Accelerator for One! Shrunken gas face!
A little known fact about Hershey Park became shrunken
Our severe limitation on why this invention cannot happen
That kept Real Estate Tax from pesky masking
Problem is my mask was in the garage
And How the Garage Saved a Nation
When there isn't gas we walk and we save
Please bush make it rain gas I want gas
In pools around Hershey Park great limitation
We don't like the rides here's a mask.

Free Workshop Offer

Here:

My now-defunct dog story receives an appealing glissando.

Merci, comentaristas!

subcutaneous tarnish

I have come upon grosser backne
but let me live
the various crèmes and salves leftovers
cannot challenge me enough
dating salesman and Swedish sales rep
big teeth, imagine Claudia Schiffer

I’m imagining backne progression on Claudia
how she must spend her life in hats, as blemish cover
as we all do in a fair world, giant forehead spreading backne
and makeup can you imagine your design?
this backne creates a space for engine carbohydrates

because Europeans love Kmart and Disney and backne
this will be the evidence used against them
in proving they’re just people, in Orlando
there are rockets of backne shooting Orlando full of big sweaters
spraying a European backne massage into your teeth

and your writing tells the easy European that there’s no dealing with backne
a thousand houses fit into your master bedroom
accruing activity in a dream kitchen
hanging space, and shoes order for you
because I’m a flat butt backne person
or putting Claudia Schiffer on your team as clean up kicker
for team Mattress Warehouse when the kickball field rules are Australian, not Orlandoan
rockets wrapped in cable knit pink backne leftovers
carry the Swedes to peace and blemish-free don’t fight over sinks

TODOS ME AMAN

1a vez que veo a Ray Romano, tenía un movimiento.
Obligando celibato! Fue increíble
El universo calienta el individualismo calienta individuos
Y la fiesta da nombre al Señor
Romano unos cuantos tipos de basura.
La expansión pone fin a la
Individualismo y la calentura
Ideas subversivas la familia Romano plática en contra de mis cambios
Que me dice! Son climáticos
Y en contra de la caliente estupefacción
Requeriendo sus votos calientes
De “repeat: calentura fácil”
Porque venimos de la Estupefácil Taxi Co.
Hasta incluso su primo Estúpido Caliente
Nos obliga de no repetir eso tipo de cliente caliente
En el caso Romano dicen que somos todos unas copias
De colores y no a la piratería
Del propio Ray desapareciéndose al comerse el alma
Campeón de futbolín! En cambio las entradas de “pura fortuna” no necesitan almas
Hago de todo salvo perder la sandal se escucha decir
Quiere la preciosura cosita en la vida, calentamiento cuerdo
Y los batidos que Ray utiliza para engordar
En el tamaño del sal estratégico
Porque lo reconocen y son capaces de destruir sus chances
Y durante su cobra fortuna de lotería Ray no lleva calzoncillos. QUE terror!
Tiene cara de terrorista, Ray Romano tiene dientes
En su bacteria es la más interesante
Porque le han hecho estudios calientes con intereses
Quieren ser parte del gobierno
Dice que es “pura suerte” que corre por sus venas de “pura chocolate”
Pero Ray Romano se usa los celos y las convicciones
Y me ofrece en su mirada la vida electoral
Realizamos los sentidos cardinales del vecino (episodio 132, ver. Del 2005)
Lleva ropa bien cara, tipo Romano
Felicidades primo, me pica donde menos esperaba
El más cursi enojo de los Wiki
Va a Irak –que fresa!-- para su episodio del Soledad Romano
La lengua busca su lugar pero encuentra sandalias y medio desuso
El mismo uso lingüístico pone tipo a hombre y Romano encarcelado por tonterías
Que el código de animal que Ray suena cuando le da
Rapidez a sus crias y vida de los “ratings”
Mientras pobre Romano explora el mejor “look” de calentamiento progresivo.