This blog is temporarily closed.
I'm a bit busy looking for someone to marry...immigration reasons.
Take care y'all,
Spook E.
BTW if you want to help a brother out with finding a "green card suitor", I'll kiss your ass for life.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Saturday, March 8, 2008
I don't mean to offend anyone and I hope this post will be taken with a grain of salt or something smaller and saltier.
This is a yarmulke.
and these are a couple of things about the yarmulke I want addressed:
1)There was a Jewish kid on the bus today wearing one with which he needed a little paper clip to secure. If I bought a hat and needed a paper clip to keep it on, there better be a healthy breeze blowing my way or I want my money back. But in the event there is a slight draught a-strirring, can yarmulk-ites do no better than paper clips? I mean come on, no one uses paper clips anymore, not even for paper. Here's my humble suggestion. Yarmulkes should be modified to have a larger circumfrence that grip the head better and maybe for extra security, a one-size-fits-all velcro strap that loops under the chin. Is that so far fetched? Is that such a revolutionary idea?
2)You see the guy in the picture? You see where he has his little hat centered, on that little cranial bulge we all have? (unless you have a flat head and then you know the almighty has truly fucked you over) Thats where all yarmulkes are worn, in that exact spot on the head. Long ago, some poor balding Jewish dude probably thought he'd escape a toupee that way and the trend caught on. Soon wearing small hats in the middle of your head became hip and fashionable and even little Jewish kids began capping their heads like this. I say it's time for a fashion makeover. It took us a while but we eventually turned the baseball cap backwards, remember? I say it's time to turn the yarmulke backwards. It would be hard to notice, but it'll look awesome.
In reference to #1, On further consideration, making the yarmulke larger would just make it a skull cap like us heathens wear, but still there is no argument against a one-size-fits-all velcro chin strap.
This is a yarmulke.
and these are a couple of things about the yarmulke I want addressed:
1)There was a Jewish kid on the bus today wearing one with which he needed a little paper clip to secure. If I bought a hat and needed a paper clip to keep it on, there better be a healthy breeze blowing my way or I want my money back. But in the event there is a slight draught a-strirring, can yarmulk-ites do no better than paper clips? I mean come on, no one uses paper clips anymore, not even for paper. Here's my humble suggestion. Yarmulkes should be modified to have a larger circumfrence that grip the head better and maybe for extra security, a one-size-fits-all velcro strap that loops under the chin. Is that so far fetched? Is that such a revolutionary idea?
2)You see the guy in the picture? You see where he has his little hat centered, on that little cranial bulge we all have? (unless you have a flat head and then you know the almighty has truly fucked you over) Thats where all yarmulkes are worn, in that exact spot on the head. Long ago, some poor balding Jewish dude probably thought he'd escape a toupee that way and the trend caught on. Soon wearing small hats in the middle of your head became hip and fashionable and even little Jewish kids began capping their heads like this. I say it's time for a fashion makeover. It took us a while but we eventually turned the baseball cap backwards, remember? I say it's time to turn the yarmulke backwards. It would be hard to notice, but it'll look awesome.
In reference to #1, On further consideration, making the yarmulke larger would just make it a skull cap like us heathens wear, but still there is no argument against a one-size-fits-all velcro chin strap.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
I pilfer from my Ma
Be patient. Wait for the sound of the shower to die off. If you feel motivated, heave your bony ass out of bed and try to drop for 10. You will get to 7 before your arms give out but that’s OK. Last time it only took 6. If it's piety moving you today, dust of your old King James and read a psalm. Before you, the bible was your sister's and before her, your dad's. Now it looks like it survived a civil war. Last Christmas Ma gave you money for a new one but that morning, Mike and Kathy invited you over for breakfast at the IHOP and you didn't want to look like a chump for not ponying up your share. Ma thinks you bought the bible.
But if things are as they usually are these days, you're feeling neither motivated nor spiritual and you haven't felt either way since that long sleep between high school and college freshman year so stay in bed. If necessary, pull the pillow over your head and try to mellow your matricidal thoughts into something less violent and more non specific. You do not want a fight with her over her morning routines. You did that once, went off on her because she kept flushing the toilet – once, twice, three times, four times – It’s 5AM goddamit. How about you drain the Pacific too.
That day, you discovered Ma had skills, a backhand – a swift back-swing pausing delicately over her left shoulder, and then a reckless decent landing and exploding on your stupefied face. To think you believed backhands were only myth, the kinds of theatric rhetoric people added to threats more as garnish than actual bite. Remember years ago when she told you she played tennis in her high school days? You'd laughed and for good reason - the woman, who took a full minute to ease her considerable mass out of her one-storey SUV, scampering after a rubber ball on a tennis court, was enough to short circuit your imaginative faculties. She made you a believer.
If she’s been in there 20 minutes, she’s probably washing her hair today and will be at it for another 20. Go to the kitchen, to the cupboard where she leaves the garri and her Nigerian spices. Look behind the jumbo plastic bucket of "I Can't Believe it's not Butter" she now uses to store dried pepper. You’ll find that pot you discovered last night on your way to the cereal box. The one with the warped lid charred so badly the metal was flaking. The one she always says she’s thrown out but which just happens to find its way buried under the living room sofa or wedged behind the refrigerator or the oven or haunting every last crook you'd never think of looking in, bearing a tight roll of $20 bills.
As you wet your lips and grin, remember:
one bill and she blames her carelessness
two, she blames the cashier's
three and you're a thief.
Choose wisely
But if things are as they usually are these days, you're feeling neither motivated nor spiritual and you haven't felt either way since that long sleep between high school and college freshman year so stay in bed. If necessary, pull the pillow over your head and try to mellow your matricidal thoughts into something less violent and more non specific. You do not want a fight with her over her morning routines. You did that once, went off on her because she kept flushing the toilet – once, twice, three times, four times – It’s 5AM goddamit. How about you drain the Pacific too.
That day, you discovered Ma had skills, a backhand – a swift back-swing pausing delicately over her left shoulder, and then a reckless decent landing and exploding on your stupefied face. To think you believed backhands were only myth, the kinds of theatric rhetoric people added to threats more as garnish than actual bite. Remember years ago when she told you she played tennis in her high school days? You'd laughed and for good reason - the woman, who took a full minute to ease her considerable mass out of her one-storey SUV, scampering after a rubber ball on a tennis court, was enough to short circuit your imaginative faculties. She made you a believer.
If she’s been in there 20 minutes, she’s probably washing her hair today and will be at it for another 20. Go to the kitchen, to the cupboard where she leaves the garri and her Nigerian spices. Look behind the jumbo plastic bucket of "I Can't Believe it's not Butter" she now uses to store dried pepper. You’ll find that pot you discovered last night on your way to the cereal box. The one with the warped lid charred so badly the metal was flaking. The one she always says she’s thrown out but which just happens to find its way buried under the living room sofa or wedged behind the refrigerator or the oven or haunting every last crook you'd never think of looking in, bearing a tight roll of $20 bills.
As you wet your lips and grin, remember:
one bill and she blames her carelessness
two, she blames the cashier's
three and you're a thief.
Choose wisely
Monday, February 25, 2008
Random Quote
Quote from Edmund White's book
"...but you, I don't think you'd know what to do with a truly big dick except throw it over your shoulder, burp it, and weep. Are you Irish?"
I've been laughing for hours.
"...but you, I don't think you'd know what to do with a truly big dick except throw it over your shoulder, burp it, and weep. Are you Irish?"
I've been laughing for hours.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Elective: Stupidity 101
Uncle G looks through his rear-view mirror
The weather is so bad. I can't see anything.
I'll go out and look for you
No, no, its ok, I'll manage
I look back and it's practically opaque with fog
are you sure?
yes, yes, it's ok
He's still trying to coerce his eyes into seeing, he cocks his head about looking through the rear-view mirrow
It's just terrible...I can't see anything
Let me go out and look
He ignores me, puts the car in reverse and begins backing out slowly
I hope there's nothing behind me...
He cocks his head about some more still trying to see
Oh God, I hope I don't hit anything
Maybe I should look
No.
I roll my eyes, look out the passenger window and there is a lady, running at us, hysterically waving her arms and mouthing something I couldn't quite hear
What the hell is she doing, he says, still backing up
Then it all makes sense, but it's too late. Fender meets bumper and they kiss...the police arrive, take statements...insurance companies are called and briefed...Uncle G mumbles something about his premiums getting hiked and sulks all the way home. I on the other hand, find the entire thing rather amusing, even hillarious.
The weather is so bad. I can't see anything.
I'll go out and look for you
No, no, its ok, I'll manage
I look back and it's practically opaque with fog
are you sure?
yes, yes, it's ok
He's still trying to coerce his eyes into seeing, he cocks his head about looking through the rear-view mirrow
It's just terrible...I can't see anything
Let me go out and look
He ignores me, puts the car in reverse and begins backing out slowly
I hope there's nothing behind me...
He cocks his head about some more still trying to see
Oh God, I hope I don't hit anything
Maybe I should look
No.
I roll my eyes, look out the passenger window and there is a lady, running at us, hysterically waving her arms and mouthing something I couldn't quite hear
What the hell is she doing, he says, still backing up
Then it all makes sense, but it's too late. Fender meets bumper and they kiss...the police arrive, take statements...insurance companies are called and briefed...Uncle G mumbles something about his premiums getting hiked and sulks all the way home. I on the other hand, find the entire thing rather amusing, even hillarious.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
A breath of stale hair
I used to wonder why women took so much pains
in trying to be as hairless as possible.
I really did.
Facial hair:
Removing those I understand.
Facial hair is manly,
the human equivalent of a lions mane.
But I thought -
Why do they have a problem with body hair?
the one's on thier legs, forearms, even armpits.
It's hardly anything
or barely something-
which really,
is just splitting hairs.
Well...
Last night at the book store, I saw a 6'3 man in a -
blond wig and high-heeled shoes
and a
poofy-sleeved blouse and knee-lenght skirt
and a
pearl necklace and red clutch purse.
Besides the broad, meaty, quarter-back shoulders,
the one-to-one, waist-to-hip ratio,
his shoebox jaw and side-burns,
he looked decent, even chic - a handsome girl waiting for a date.
Truly a vision
as they say,
to haunt, to startle and waylay.
That was all before I saw his forearms
looked like a furry animal crawled under his sleeves
and was holding on for dear life.
Now, I'm no male-chauvinist.
I'm all for feminists and their cause
and I don't think anyone should be obligated
to look a certain way to be validated as what they are.
But to those women who choose
to shave
and wax
and pluck,
I get it, I sincerly do.
in trying to be as hairless as possible.
I really did.
Facial hair:
Removing those I understand.
Facial hair is manly,
the human equivalent of a lions mane.
But I thought -
Why do they have a problem with body hair?
the one's on thier legs, forearms, even armpits.
It's hardly anything
or barely something-
which really,
is just splitting hairs.
Well...
Last night at the book store, I saw a 6'3 man in a -
blond wig and high-heeled shoes
and a
poofy-sleeved blouse and knee-lenght skirt
and a
pearl necklace and red clutch purse.
Besides the broad, meaty, quarter-back shoulders,
the one-to-one, waist-to-hip ratio,
his shoebox jaw and side-burns,
he looked decent, even chic - a handsome girl waiting for a date.
Truly a vision
as they say,
to haunt, to startle and waylay.
That was all before I saw his forearms
looked like a furry animal crawled under his sleeves
and was holding on for dear life.
Now, I'm no male-chauvinist.
I'm all for feminists and their cause
and I don't think anyone should be obligated
to look a certain way to be validated as what they are.
But to those women who choose
to shave
and wax
and pluck,
I get it, I sincerly do.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Is it rain or is it snow? I wish the skies would just decide - and when it does I hope it settles for rain.
I though of writing a poem today inspired by the gray skies outside my window.
Something melancholic and nostalgic, something that makes you want to press your nose against the window and wish for summer and sun
or run outside and bathe in the rain like you did when you were little.
So I sat beside my window and leaned in to watch the puddles form in hollows beside the curb and snow flakes melting softly on my windowsill.
It all looked so ripe for a poem
But all I could think of were of idle dreamers just like me looking through glass, waiting to find poetic grace in dim, dull, indecisive weather.
I wonder how many poems have been inspired by rain.
PS: I think I'm going to stop using "lol". I use it way too much. lol FUCK!...starting now...
I though of writing a poem today inspired by the gray skies outside my window.
Something melancholic and nostalgic, something that makes you want to press your nose against the window and wish for summer and sun
or run outside and bathe in the rain like you did when you were little.
So I sat beside my window and leaned in to watch the puddles form in hollows beside the curb and snow flakes melting softly on my windowsill.
It all looked so ripe for a poem
But all I could think of were of idle dreamers just like me looking through glass, waiting to find poetic grace in dim, dull, indecisive weather.
I wonder how many poems have been inspired by rain.
PS: I think I'm going to stop using "lol". I use it way too much. lol FUCK!...starting now...
Monday, February 4, 2008
Thank heavens for little girls. (Long)
My 12 year old cousin came to me yesterday with a sullen almost mournful expression on her face. I was certain something serious was up because she usually greets me like she expects Beyonce to come in right after me, all shrieks and giggles and little in the way of coherent speech and absolutely no self-restraint. One time I got a shoe to my face because on seeing me, she did a high kick that sent her shoe flying across the room, zinging my poor little head, knocking the structure right out of my legs. She's tempered her enthusiasm since then but that only means she's bouncing off the walls now and not the ceiling too. So I took my dearly down-trodden over to the kitchen counter, poured her a glass of ginger ale and asked her to come out with it.
I think my mom watches pornos
What?
I found some porno tapes in my moms drawer
Now, I like to play the big brother. I like to think I can play him well because I've managed to condense all the rules to being a capable adult into one easy-to-master maxim: "above all else, keep your cool" but it only takes a problem, so at peace with its own absurdity to make keeping one's head seem as ridiculous as sipping nails through a straw. I wanted to burst out laughing and I would have if she wasn't taking it so hard. Instead, after silently counting to ten just to keep a straight face, I came up with this deeply discerning jewel of a question:
OK. When did you find it?
Yesterday. I was just looking for where she hid my candy canes - the ones I got for Christmas. I was just looking for them in the drawer because she always hides stuff in there. Can you believe my mom watches them?
I couldn't. I didn't want to. I pictured my aunt inclined in her lazy-boy at night - her blinds drawn, the door, bolted, watching a dirty blond get gang-banged by yards and yards of the hard stuff; the volume turned down to a low whisper and her thighs viced on each other, squeezing out pure ecstasy. It was all too much for me and apparently, for my little cousin too. But even as I found this picture of my aunt somewhat disturbing, the novelty of having a porn-watching (maybe even addicted?) aunt gave the whole affair a tang of coolness. What other secrets lurked behind her closed doors and hidden in her drawers? Whips and chains and leather masks? Blow-up dolls and chain-metal sex slings? The possibilities were endless...but explorable and I figured I'd take my sweet time going over every one of them, but now was for my cousin. What to say?... What to say? ...
Did you watch them?
umm...maybe
She drew out the 'maybe' like a question and I just about saw her innocence buy a one-way ticket back to the pearly gates on the heavenly express, never to return. I felt as though she'd been despoiled, her starry-eyes, dimmed, by her mother no less and yet my emotions -vague but hot, were for the moment directed at her
WHY DID YOU WATCH IT?
curiosity... maybe (again, sounding like a question) I didn't see the whole thing though
Yea, but you saw enough to know it was porn and you kept on watching?
An assumption I'd made up completely out of the blue.
What is it with you kids and your curious eyes? Don't you know enough to leave your mothers things alone?
My voice beginning to rise...
Look, I don't know why that tape was there, maybe it belonged to someone else but it's HER business, it's her goddamn business and I'm pretty sure she'll appreciate you staying out of it. You understand me?
Why are you yelling? She screamed back at me in the audacity only kids born and raised in America can conjure.
Because you should know better.
And with that said, she got up, walked out of the apartment and slammed the door shut behind her. I was dumb struck - what the fuck did she do that for?
It was only this morning after I'd slept off the shock and anger of the night before did I begin to feel the guilt that I had coming to me. Why did I blow up like that? Why was it directed at her instead of her careless mother? I also kept wandering what the right response would've been had I acted rationally. I discovered porn at about the same age so maybe I was overreacting. Maybe we should have laughed it off over Ginger Ale and some cookies but it's so hard to picture talking to her about sex or pornography, icky stuff. It was all too confusing.
I prayed this morning...
Thank heavens for little girls...not so much the bigger ones.
I like being big brother but I'm really making things up as I go along. The more she grows, the more she catches up to me and it takes me - old man that I am , a little while to notice this and adjust accordingly.
We spoke on the phone this afternoon and I apologized for last night. I think she loves me again. The porno talk, that's hopefully on the back burner...for now.
I think my mom watches pornos
What?
I found some porno tapes in my moms drawer
Now, I like to play the big brother. I like to think I can play him well because I've managed to condense all the rules to being a capable adult into one easy-to-master maxim: "above all else, keep your cool" but it only takes a problem, so at peace with its own absurdity to make keeping one's head seem as ridiculous as sipping nails through a straw. I wanted to burst out laughing and I would have if she wasn't taking it so hard. Instead, after silently counting to ten just to keep a straight face, I came up with this deeply discerning jewel of a question:
OK. When did you find it?
Yesterday. I was just looking for where she hid my candy canes - the ones I got for Christmas. I was just looking for them in the drawer because she always hides stuff in there. Can you believe my mom watches them?
I couldn't. I didn't want to. I pictured my aunt inclined in her lazy-boy at night - her blinds drawn, the door, bolted, watching a dirty blond get gang-banged by yards and yards of the hard stuff; the volume turned down to a low whisper and her thighs viced on each other, squeezing out pure ecstasy. It was all too much for me and apparently, for my little cousin too. But even as I found this picture of my aunt somewhat disturbing, the novelty of having a porn-watching (maybe even addicted?) aunt gave the whole affair a tang of coolness. What other secrets lurked behind her closed doors and hidden in her drawers? Whips and chains and leather masks? Blow-up dolls and chain-metal sex slings? The possibilities were endless...but explorable and I figured I'd take my sweet time going over every one of them, but now was for my cousin. What to say?... What to say? ...
Did you watch them?
umm...maybe
She drew out the 'maybe' like a question and I just about saw her innocence buy a one-way ticket back to the pearly gates on the heavenly express, never to return. I felt as though she'd been despoiled, her starry-eyes, dimmed, by her mother no less and yet my emotions -vague but hot, were for the moment directed at her
WHY DID YOU WATCH IT?
curiosity... maybe (again, sounding like a question) I didn't see the whole thing though
Yea, but you saw enough to know it was porn and you kept on watching?
An assumption I'd made up completely out of the blue.
What is it with you kids and your curious eyes? Don't you know enough to leave your mothers things alone?
My voice beginning to rise...
Look, I don't know why that tape was there, maybe it belonged to someone else but it's HER business, it's her goddamn business and I'm pretty sure she'll appreciate you staying out of it. You understand me?
Why are you yelling? She screamed back at me in the audacity only kids born and raised in America can conjure.
Because you should know better.
And with that said, she got up, walked out of the apartment and slammed the door shut behind her. I was dumb struck - what the fuck did she do that for?
It was only this morning after I'd slept off the shock and anger of the night before did I begin to feel the guilt that I had coming to me. Why did I blow up like that? Why was it directed at her instead of her careless mother? I also kept wandering what the right response would've been had I acted rationally. I discovered porn at about the same age so maybe I was overreacting. Maybe we should have laughed it off over Ginger Ale and some cookies but it's so hard to picture talking to her about sex or pornography, icky stuff. It was all too confusing.
I prayed this morning...
Thank heavens for little girls...not so much the bigger ones.
I like being big brother but I'm really making things up as I go along. The more she grows, the more she catches up to me and it takes me - old man that I am , a little while to notice this and adjust accordingly.
We spoke on the phone this afternoon and I apologized for last night. I think she loves me again. The porno talk, that's hopefully on the back burner...for now.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Things that bug me 2
1) Automatic doors that open slowly.
2) News reporters who refer to 9/11 as the day "America lost her innocence".
I say: You've got to be kidding me. America...innocent? Puhleez.
3) Guys who wear suspenders.
Pants should be secured to your waist not left floating halfway up your torso.
4) People who use "like" to punctuate their sentences.
It's like so like annoying I want to like put a bullet through like your fucking head. You like-y?
5) People who stand on escalators.
I know it moves but it's still a staircase you know.
6) Green M&Ms.
Just ridiculous.
7) Inconsiderate ATM users.
They try a couple of pin numbers before deciding to give theirs a go.
Print out bank statements and deposit some 5 or 6 checks separately.
Eject their card and begin to walk off.
Then...
You're interrupted. They "forgot to withdraw"
You let them get their money
and wait for the lazy printer to spit out their receipt
1 minute and 30 seconds:
Time spent waiting for Asshole-icus maximus to finish examining it's receipt.
The receipt is folded. Once. Then twice.
30 seconds:
Time this species requires to locate it's smaller pouch within it's larger one and deposit the receipt
1:
Number of people in line when Asshole-icus maximus began using ATM
6:
Number of victims left in it's wake.
2) News reporters who refer to 9/11 as the day "America lost her innocence".
I say: You've got to be kidding me. America...innocent? Puhleez.
3) Guys who wear suspenders.
Pants should be secured to your waist not left floating halfway up your torso.
4) People who use "like" to punctuate their sentences.
It's like so like annoying I want to like put a bullet through like your fucking head. You like-y?
5) People who stand on escalators.
I know it moves but it's still a staircase you know.
6) Green M&Ms.
Just ridiculous.
7) Inconsiderate ATM users.
They try a couple of pin numbers before deciding to give theirs a go.
Print out bank statements and deposit some 5 or 6 checks separately.
Eject their card and begin to walk off.
Then...
You're interrupted. They "forgot to withdraw"
You let them get their money
and wait for the lazy printer to spit out their receipt
1 minute and 30 seconds:
Time spent waiting for Asshole-icus maximus to finish examining it's receipt.
The receipt is folded. Once. Then twice.
30 seconds:
Time this species requires to locate it's smaller pouch within it's larger one and deposit the receipt
1:
Number of people in line when Asshole-icus maximus began using ATM
6:
Number of victims left in it's wake.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
The dude made me cry in Brokeback
And so it came to me last night
a bullet through my heart
unfair the hand that tips the scales
of karma and of fate
that the best ones leave before their time
is hard enough to bear
that the worst of them keep rolling on
stay hope: an endless prayer
Heath, we'll always have Brokeback
a bullet through my heart
unfair the hand that tips the scales
of karma and of fate
that the best ones leave before their time
is hard enough to bear
that the worst of them keep rolling on
stay hope: an endless prayer
Heath, we'll always have Brokeback
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Let them entertain us
I'd spend a bit more time on this particular blog entry but I've got a few minutes before the start of class and I want to get this out there or I'll probably get lazy and not do it.
Did anyone watch the South Carolina debates last night between Clinton and Obama? If you didn't, you missed a helluva show. I thought they were going to fight - and I don't mean the usual battle of wits like we're used to from these uppity aristocratic types, I mean a full-out I'ma-kick-your-ass-with-this-shoe-on-my-foot, mano-a-womano smack-down. I really did. I thought at some point, Obama was going to step off his podium, walk over to Hillary and fire a fat loogie in her general direction and Clinton would reply with a deft left hook to the right jaw and the rest would be pay-per-view history.
I used to say to myself - Obama and Clinton seem to have risen above the fray, they have transcended the usual dirty politics... no mis-characterizing ads yet and they've been relatively respectful of each other and the positions they each represent. Maybe they do genuinely represent this so-called "change" they've been hawking for about a year now. Then last night happened. Now I say to myself, FUCK the "woe is me, I'm a woman, how can you not see how awesome I am" campaign Hillary is running and FUCK the "I'm for change, change is me, me is change, change I am, change. change. change." campaign Obama is sticking to, they are politicians and inherently evil, insufferably despicable, and alas, tragically necessary. I would just appreciate a little more honesty from both of them. More of this savagery and less of the other, more demure, "classy" politicking. This kind is by far more entertaining and at the end of the day, isn't it all for and about our entertainment?
PS
The other dude...
PSS
Whats his name?...
PSSS
ah yes, Edwards.
PSSSS
whats his deal anyway?
Did anyone watch the South Carolina debates last night between Clinton and Obama? If you didn't, you missed a helluva show. I thought they were going to fight - and I don't mean the usual battle of wits like we're used to from these uppity aristocratic types, I mean a full-out I'ma-kick-your-ass-with-this-shoe-on-my-foot, mano-a-womano smack-down. I really did. I thought at some point, Obama was going to step off his podium, walk over to Hillary and fire a fat loogie in her general direction and Clinton would reply with a deft left hook to the right jaw and the rest would be pay-per-view history.
I used to say to myself - Obama and Clinton seem to have risen above the fray, they have transcended the usual dirty politics... no mis-characterizing ads yet and they've been relatively respectful of each other and the positions they each represent. Maybe they do genuinely represent this so-called "change" they've been hawking for about a year now. Then last night happened. Now I say to myself, FUCK the "woe is me, I'm a woman, how can you not see how awesome I am" campaign Hillary is running and FUCK the "I'm for change, change is me, me is change, change I am, change. change. change." campaign Obama is sticking to, they are politicians and inherently evil, insufferably despicable, and alas, tragically necessary. I would just appreciate a little more honesty from both of them. More of this savagery and less of the other, more demure, "classy" politicking. This kind is by far more entertaining and at the end of the day, isn't it all for and about our entertainment?
PS
The other dude...
PSS
Whats his name?...
PSSS
ah yes, Edwards.
PSSSS
whats his deal anyway?
Friday, January 18, 2008
Spoken word
Hey everyone.
So a couple of posts ago I recounted my adventures at a certain gay meeting and posted a couple of videos from a spoken word artist who perform at that meeting. Since that time, I've been searching and listening to all kinds of videos and audio clips of spoken word poetry and I've got to tell you all, this art form, this medium of activism and story telling with words and rhythm is spell binding. I wish I could do it. Everytime I listen to a clip of something powerful or clever I wish I could've done it first. I say to myself: "that's so true" or "I was just thinking the same thing a week...or a month...or year ago" only I didn't string my thoughts together in such an inspired way. It's got to be some kind of talent, it's just got to be.
Here are a few of my favorites...it's so hard to narrow them down.
BASSEY IKPI..."Homeword" ...for a little nostalgia. I also like from her "Apology To My Unborn"
"Yellow Rage"...They're so angry, it's funny. Don't listen if you don't like cursing (but if you've read this blog, I know you don't mind).
SUHEIR HAMMAD...Well, she's just brilliant isn't she.
So a couple of posts ago I recounted my adventures at a certain gay meeting and posted a couple of videos from a spoken word artist who perform at that meeting. Since that time, I've been searching and listening to all kinds of videos and audio clips of spoken word poetry and I've got to tell you all, this art form, this medium of activism and story telling with words and rhythm is spell binding. I wish I could do it. Everytime I listen to a clip of something powerful or clever I wish I could've done it first. I say to myself: "that's so true" or "I was just thinking the same thing a week...or a month...or year ago" only I didn't string my thoughts together in such an inspired way. It's got to be some kind of talent, it's just got to be.
Here are a few of my favorites...it's so hard to narrow them down.
BASSEY IKPI..."Homeword" ...for a little nostalgia. I also like from her "Apology To My Unborn"
"Yellow Rage"...They're so angry, it's funny. Don't listen if you don't like cursing (but if you've read this blog, I know you don't mind).
SUHEIR HAMMAD...Well, she's just brilliant isn't she.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Of the under-learned
"we were in this garden and we were so inspired by these wonderful botanicals ...."
Heard that gem on TV and had to write it down for...for...umm...well, for future reference. Think of it, how many times have you ever heard the word "botanical" used outside of a science classroom or a shampoo ad? My guess is never. Except if you're like me, then you've heard it used by your 11 year old cousin who you babysit a couple of times a week and who manages to make you feel slightly dumber than the last time you were with him because he "expectorates" when you ask him not to spit in the kitchen sink and promptly sets you straight for thinking "niggardly" was a "bawdy" word when it simply means "frugal" or "penurious". But even he, in all his nerdidom, has never seen "botanicals" where there was a beautiful garden to be admired.
Now one might think the person I'm refering to was trying a bit too hard to show off a little more of their scholarship than they possessed, but I disagree. I like people like this; people who can razzle dazzle with words and phrases and stop you dead in your tracks with their constructions. They remind me to look at the English language with renewed respect and awe because try as I may to master proper English from the so called masters of the language, it is always those who dare to tresspass beyond the forgivable that keep me interested.
Word of the day: Toothsome, only because I thought it had something to do with teeth. It means delicious or luscious like a tasty meal or a sexy, handsome, adonis of a man or woman like me.
PS: I've been around, just uninspired that's all.
Heard that gem on TV and had to write it down for...for...umm...well, for future reference. Think of it, how many times have you ever heard the word "botanical" used outside of a science classroom or a shampoo ad? My guess is never. Except if you're like me, then you've heard it used by your 11 year old cousin who you babysit a couple of times a week and who manages to make you feel slightly dumber than the last time you were with him because he "expectorates" when you ask him not to spit in the kitchen sink and promptly sets you straight for thinking "niggardly" was a "bawdy" word when it simply means "frugal" or "penurious". But even he, in all his nerdidom, has never seen "botanicals" where there was a beautiful garden to be admired.
Now one might think the person I'm refering to was trying a bit too hard to show off a little more of their scholarship than they possessed, but I disagree. I like people like this; people who can razzle dazzle with words and phrases and stop you dead in your tracks with their constructions. They remind me to look at the English language with renewed respect and awe because try as I may to master proper English from the so called masters of the language, it is always those who dare to tresspass beyond the forgivable that keep me interested.
Word of the day: Toothsome, only because I thought it had something to do with teeth. It means delicious or luscious like a tasty meal or a sexy, handsome, adonis of a man or woman like me.
PS: I've been around, just uninspired that's all.
2008
My first post of the New year is going to be short and sweet. All I have to say to the people that have left comments on or visited this blog in the past year is: you're sexy! Yes. You're very sexy and I hope you have a very sexy 2008...well...realistically, it's not going to be sexy for all of you because some of you guys will fatten up this year or go on a hardcore diet and get all auschwitz skinny and umm...some others will, at various points in the year, break out in a rash or catch a bad cold and those can make for very un-sexy people. So I'll say, have a mostly sexy 2008. How's that?
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