Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Yet I Don't Know What to Do

After a fuck
with a loved one
it is quiet in the room
and our bodies stretch out
across each other
to dry the sweat.

wind hammers the outer walls
rain slams against the windows.
It sounds violent
and tumultuous
and I can't help but think
there are cats
and dogs
that must be out there tonight.

In my comfort, I realize my shortsightedness.
"You fool," I laugh
"there are humans out there too."

It is quiet in the room.
It is so warm that I can stand naked
smoking a cigarette
There are people out there too.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

Inspired by 2008 predictions and pop music

1: Has 1 hrd of Rivers Cuomo?
Cause he like revitalized
Rock and roll
In the late twentieth century
He did it with lightning
And nineteen fifties shades

He wrote a book once
No a bible, about rock
And roll and songwriting
Apparently he studied
Guns and Roses
And Nirvana
And knows
He knows
How to make the perfect

2: A girl with a crutch
That I used to know
When I went to bars
And got real drunk
On weeknights
And missed class
Said hi to me
In a coffee shop
Off campus
I enthusiastically
Responded with
I used to think
This girl was cute
Now I can’t
Remember her name

The bar we used to
Frequent had this way
Of making her face
Look beyond beautiful
Almost fake
I saw her in daylight
At her work
Making smoothies
And saw her face
During the day
And not buzzed
Off two for ones
Or two dollar specials
And she had this make
Up of epic proportions
Strewn about her face
At that moment
I realized why she was
Beautifully fake
In barlight because
Her face was smothered
In paste and white and creams and moisturizes
Seriously grotesque
Riddled with scars

I felt bad then
That I had liked her for her face
And not because I thought
She was interesting
Just a good lay
I stopped seeing her
At the bar
I stopped going
And I saw her studying
In a coffee shop
With two crutches
High on pharmaceuticals
Studying identity.

1: I like Kevin Barnes
As far as entertainers go
He is without compare
As far as his generation
Is concerned

Glam seemingly has not
Lost its initial definition
From the late seventies
Early eighties and he
Embodies it successfully

His voice is something
Of a miracle. Semi-monotone
Suggesting a subdued
Personality altered in slight
By chemicals or weed

Which I think speaks
For a certain number of
Those in (between) youth
And his theatrics mimic
Our mutual escape from reality.

Into fantasy
And shenanigans on stage
That make us all believe
We’re not living. We don't
Breathe despite lungs

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Nineteenth Century

I do not believe in God.
Not yours or your father’s
Or Chaucer’s or Gaius J.
Caesar’s I do not believe in
A higher power
But I believe in you
Your words and Nature

Why not begin again?
Like you proposed
New gods for a new era
New Traditions to follow
New scenes of the picturesque
Where I’ll walk with you
Beyond retrospection

Yet time moves and has
Since your days of youth
And I’m sorry I’ve read
Your psalms a century
And a half too late to
Believe in your god
Your concept of faith

But I do believe in you
Your thoughts, your pen
In an age where everyone
Believes in themselves
I think of you, dearest Emerson

As I sit and watch the tide come in
And the moon wane
And the ants bear weight
And the children play
And the birds wade off the vibrant
Green banks of Lake Michigan.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Dream Predictions for 2008

1. A woman wearing all black asks me where "Yoko" is. After deducing that she is talking about Yoko Ono, I tell her I have no idea, and she remarks "She is gone."
Translation: Yoko Ono will die in 2008.
2. Between philosophical sips of coffee in a public park, I found myself suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of desire for a breakfast sandwich that somehow worked avocados into the mix. The details came slowly, but eventually I created the finest brex-mex creation this side of the mason-dixon.
The 2008 Brex-Mex:
-Texas toast, toasted.
-A poached egg.
-3 slices of pepper smoked bacon.
-One medium-tall slice of avocado.
-Two slices of tomato.
-Sauteed red onions.
Translation: This sandwich will be served at restaurants across the nation in 2008.
3. Dennis Kucinich offers me a bong rip.
Translation: Dennis Kucinich, after being ignored in the race for the U.S. presidency, will head the secession movement for the Republic of Cascadia. After succeeding, he will smoke a bong while addressing the new Republic.
4. A four-eared, two-nosed, no-handed monster chases me through a slop forest.
Translation: The social mores surrounding the practice of nose and ear picking will be considered outdated.
5. I am faced with a stack of bills for energy, loans, rent, tuition, and credit cards. A man in a suit, carrying an extraordinarily clean scalpel tells me that "We can take care of this in one simple procedure."
Translation: The voluntary sale of human organs will be legalized, following a suit that piggy-backs on the existing laws around abortion.
6. Two women walk toward me in a party, they laugh to each other and whisper, they come closer into the light when I realize that they are both about 80 years old.
Translation: Make-up will continue to make girls look hot from a distance, and expose them as nasties up close. Seriously.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

A toast to a dismal future.

Every time
I speak to someone
about the future
it's always
apocalypse this
or Armageddon that
why can't we expect
success and riches
money and bitches?
Probably because life
is not a rap song
no matter what the TV may tell you
it's probably more along the lines of:
wake up
go to work
work all day
hate your job
leave your job
come home to an empty apartment
or a crowded house
smoke weed
get drunk
get married
make a kid
doesn't matter if you love it
if you can't fucking keep it fed.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Reoccurring themes in last Saturday’s writing


Some things I have been
thinking as of late,
writers are vain.
I’m looking into a mirror
as I write this
and I see my face.
Someone told me this,
I don’t believe him.


I talked to some woman today
about a cake she ordered.
On a message I left yesterday
I told her it would be ready
in the afternoon She was thoroughly
pissed at me and wanted to talk to me
about how much I ruined her day
and how hard it was to order a cake
because when I said afternoon
it was much too late.
What I was supposed to say
was “Twelve, Noon.”
to this seedy fucking Lincoln park bitch goddess
who lives on Deming Street
two blocks from the bakery
who needs to get her shit kids
fucking football and helmet shaped
And I,
I was the one who ruined her day
because “afternoon” was much too late.
All I wanted to tell her
As she effortlessly chewed me out
over the phone was,
“I don’t give a damn about your business,
or your babies daddy’s bank account.”


I found out today
that this girl
did not stand me up
because of my moustache
apparently it’s just because
she forgets to return
phone calls?

Now I’m bored.
I’d rather have her
blow me off because of my face
than call me back three days late
cause like, what kids, this guy
(points to face)
does not wait.


I went on a bike ride today
with my roommate.
It was forty degrees or more
and not rainy.
We went to Joe’s place
and I walked in on him
and Lara eating a Mexican feast.
they were really happy
and about to watch TV
and handed me my things
that I forgot the previous night
too drunk to remember
where I hid them.

Then we rode to Starbucks
to visit our beautiful friend
Carrie who works across from
her favorite bar, Drum & Monkey.
She gave us free passion fruit
green teas.
It was nice.
Her boss and I
talked about weed.

Afterwards we had
to endure the long haul
back to Lincoln park
and away from UIC
and let me tell you,
Greek town didn’t seem so big
and the three bridges we crossed
weren’t so steep
and that bar we passed
where I got stood up
didn’t sting

I smiled and went to Whole Foods
to buy some expensive sixers
and chat with this gay dude
about growing up in Stillwater
cause I’m from Arden Hills
on my brother’s ID.


I rode by this giant post office today,
some headquarters or something
in this tre chic futuristic
building on the west side
of the Chicago river.
I realized then that it is right
next to the greyhound station,
where I’m convinced only
sucky people hang out.
One time I met my friend William
there and he bought some weed
from a homeless man
and it was not green.
It was orange.
We threw it away.

We were young then.
Younger I suppose
And what was that?
Two years ago?
Now we have hair
on our backs
and in our noses
and drink a bit
when we should
be going to school
but I like writing
with him.
We get along well.

Friday, January 11, 2008

News Update, January 11th, 2008

A grown man wet himself after consuming a horse's share of Rondiaz rum. Reports indicate that R. Kelly was also involved. That is all.

Wednesday, January 9, 2008


The don't walk starts to flash when I see her. It's been well over a month now, but here we are. Opposite sides of the same street. She hasn't noticed me yet but my heartbeat quickens despite this. The orange warning blips closer and closer to our inevitable encounter and my mind is awash with how I'm going to handle the situation. A friendly hello? A wave and a smile? Or maybe ignorance is bliss and I should ignore her altogether. I quickly rationalize my way out of the latter scenario, realizing that said action could only make things worse. I wonder what 'worse,' in this case, could actually mean. Do I even want to see this girl again? Does she want to see me? She seems weird anyway. Or maybe I'm weird. As I continue attempting to grasp the greater significance of our relationship and it's implications on my interactions with women, I realize people are beginning to bump into me and cross the street. They fire off annoyed glares as I stand dumbstruck in my own self-contemplative state of disregard. She's closer now. I forgot how much I love the color of her hair. Five feet maybe. The warmth of her body. No, ten feet. The warmth of any body. I'm always bad at judging these things.

Never Deserted

plaid bears and leaves
encompass our bodies
as we sleep

the convertable bedding
had me feeling achey
in the daylight

i always wake
without delay
never alone

to the sound i heard wailing
from the outdoors
through the window...

i say good day!
why do you haunt me?
like times two hands clapping

troublesome lucid dreams
they come
with the absence of caffiene

the sage will burn slowly
like morning cigarettes
with my coffee or tea

i always wake
without delay
never deserted

i wont be late
for the birds all laughing
will sustain


I say good day!
why do you haunt me?
like a second hand paintings stare

Really Any Wonder

is something I'll never be guilty of.
I never claimed to have it right,
I just claimed to have it.
So, if someone becomes a believer
it's beautiful, but secondary.
Sing it, or read it, but
do not think for one second
that I will try to coerce you.
Rhetoric is for the philosophers.
Banter is for the commoners.
Boasting is for the misinformed.
Complaint is for the misanthropic.
So here
is my humility.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

your problems my space

Yesterday while studying in a local library branch, I happened upon this ditty of a message typed up on a computer. At the time, it was ready to be posted on some, I'm assuming, young boys myspace. I ignored the piece at first because I was busy reading about dead people in a Norton Anthology and it wasn’t until a friend called that I started to zone out and listlessly read what was on the screen in front of me. I don’t know who the “Tiffany14” this letter is addressed to and I haven’t a clue as to who “Hockeyman48” could be. What I do know is “Hockeyman48” hates global warming, likes hockey and action movies, and belongs to an evangelical church. Maybe you, avid reader of words and poetry, can help figure out more about the genius this prose paints...

Dear Tiffany14,

Today I realized that I’m very upset. I wrote some really sad stuff about global warming and got frightened. Sometimes when I think about global warming, I think about two scenes from Mel’s Opus and eighties classic, Beyond Thunderdome. One of them has a group of kids looking at a viewfinder at images they’ll never see. One’s of the Eiffel Tower and one of Taj Mahal. I think there’s one of the Great Wall and one of the Statue of Liberty too but these kids don’t know what they’re seeing and they have no one to explain it to them cause they’re future orphans. The movie ends with this other scene of people sheltered in a bombed out building in Sydney. The woman elder is holding a baby and telling stories to the people of how they were saved. But you know what? They’re just screwed anyways, have you seen Road Warrior? Where are they going to find oil to motor their cool cars? Besides, there’s roving gangs of dudes in bondage and chicks with sharp boomerangs all over Australia.

Anyways, I felt really sad today after I read all this history about books and people that won’t care when the ice caps will finish melting. What are we going to do then? You know, it might be kind of fun. We can both get boats and meet in what used to be the Grand Canyon. Hopefully by then it will be a sweet water park with awesome slides and no lines! So much going through my head and I can’t think of much right now except for the Chipotle I had for lunch. I’m going to miss Chipotle in the future. Today I had some and it was really good. Do you know they make their chips fresh everyday? Don’t tell anybody but I always get a cup of water and when I leave, I fill it up with diet coke

Anyways, when I come visit you, I’ll bring a VHS copy of Beyond Thunderdome. I think you’d really like it. This church I used to be a part of had a copy of it in paperback. Pretty neat huh? I used to sneak out of church and read it on this damp shag carpeted library that had pretty cool books. You know, Lutherans are alright but what are your favorite action movies? Commando was on TV the other day. Have you seen that? There’s this part where Arnold is with this girl and they are in this awesome car chase. So Arnold smashes right into this terrorist and flips his car over! He then gets out and dangles the guy over a cliff! The girl doesn’t see this, she’s in the car or shopping or something, but Arnold drops him and the guy falls and dies. When he meets up with the girl, she asks him about what he did to the terrorist and, this is great, you’ll never believe this, he says “I let him go.”
I know right? It’s funny cause the girl is satisfied thinking he really let him off the hook but Arnold dropped him like 60 STORIES onto rocks!

Anyways today I read that Shaxberd (people used to call him this in history!) left his second bed to his wife after he died and not his first which I don't think makes sense. Someone told me he wasn’t real though. I think I saw a history channel program about it once and they did a really good job of covering all the potential people that he could have been. Some people even think Queen Elizabeth could have been him! You know the British used to go to Italy and Spain and see women acting and get blown away because the women were actually good at stage. Can you believe that Tiffany14? They would come back to London and talk about how women were actually good at acting! In London they did this cross-dressing thing which is okay with me. My daddy doesn’t think so though. He got kind of upset when he came home and I was wearing my sister’s shoes. But he got over it and decided to take me to my new church that the president likes. It’s kind of creepy but we sing great songs and I get my head touched and sometimes I spasm a lot and fall down and bawl but everyone else is too so it’s okay. Do you believe in God Tiffany14?

Well I gotta go to sleep.

i consider this blog a valuable resource for writers and many other people. just check it.

Monday, January 7, 2008

extended predictions

1. Blake was right about the Sheena Easton comeback thanks to some suave dancing, but he neglected to mention the club remix, which will be done by lil' john and the Easton boys.
2. Speaking of crunk, purp will be in the cup all year long
3. Holes in the cerebral cortex will also be on the rise due to prediction #2
4. Curling will be finally recognized as a legitimate sport, right up there with lawn darts and 5 pin bowling.
5. Legalization of absinthe leaves thousands upset over drinking shitty 60% alc. anise flavored liquor with psychedelic effects that are few and far between.
6. Beard appreciation month (no shave november) will be acknowledged early, and will see record turnout.
7. Everyone will realize how lame facebook is and switch to just reading branches. (a man can dream)

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Predictions From Blogopolis

Hi guys, it’s Blake and it’s that time of the year again! Predictions for 2008!!! Perhaps this list is a little late but what of it, we are living the future right now and cool stuff happens like every day. So here are some things I think would be cool if they happened in 2008.

  1. Sheena Easton will make a massive come back and a shocking dance statement with her smooth moves in the critically acclaimed “9-5 (Morning Train)” music video.
  2. A couple new fashion trends will sweep the nation. The first being matching ones clothes with what they are drinking. Margaritas? Yellow t-shirts and tan shorts duh. Cosmos? Pink sweaters and shiny jeans. Beer? Brown turtle necks and fucking brown dock martins. Aprons will also become popular.
  3. In 2008, America will elect a president who fancies dueling. Wait, America will elect Andrew Jackson’s bones president.
  4. KFed
  5. Dinosaurs will become hip and the kids will start calling their friends by their reptilian surnames. Like Greggasaurous Rex. Or Jilatactyl. How about "Bronteosusan?"
  6. On April 4th, Scientists will invent a jacket that keeps warm by sending text messages.
  7. Steve Rocco will reveal that he is not Andy Kaufman but rather John Lennon. Everyone wins.
  8. Parents will demand they attend school with their children in order to keep them safe from terrorism. Also the kid leash, a favorite among traveling/mall going families, will be written into the constitution. On January 17, parents will be forced to keep their children on leashes at all times.
  9. No one will say “pants.”
  10. History will acknowledge itself and throw an awesome theme party for the world.

Well gosh, that is about everything I can think of right now. Hopefully these cool things will become fact in 2008! I’m curious to see what you predictions are for the upcoming year. Comment/post your guesses of what will make 2008 great!

Have you read about condoms?

"I can still smell you on my fingers."
To catch,
capture blood in skin,
to see the only remainders
of an hour's work: only
plastic, latex, and crust;
scent and must.

However many deep breaths
and "fuck"s you may mutter
whispered in her ear,
talk dirty and make it clear
that you feel secure in her arms.
But know that it
is usually only rewarded
with emotion.

Connecting human lovers,
(sex is) on the surface
tending to the young.
We as lovers (here)
do not comprehend the remainders
that an orgasm leaves behind.
Beyond simply sickly
white, yellow at the tip of a condom
but a permanent imprint
of the cock or cunt
left in the mind
like the favorite song or line
from a favorite movie.
There is nothing cinematic
in the way we bounce on a mattress,
cinematic, no,
but emotionally beyond
all other things.
I love my family,
I love my music,
I love my life,
but I fuck you
and I hold that above the crucifix
that has taken my place
on the wall, in the bedroom which I was comfortable in
my youth.

Saturday, January 5, 2008

Will told me to post this and I still don’t want to but happy new years to all of you who read my shitcan poetry

I’ve been stood up.
I should have left a message.
I’ve put myself out there.
I think it’s because of my moustache.

We could have been great you know
I’m not like anything you’ve ever had
(I probably am). But I have brown hair,
do they? Do they trim their nose hair?

Or give you great vanilla sex?
Cause I can do that.
Have you read about condoms?
Cause I do have them.

And I’d love to lay with you
and I’d love to cry with you
just in case you have to
and sometimes we all do.

Have time to procreate?
I own a queen sized bed and some really nice shirts.

And at your work
I knew I was struggling
with my face
and this thing above my upper lip
that you most likely despise
because of your father,
who molested or beat or babied you
had a thing
on his face like mine.
And I’m sorry I like theatrics
and facial accessories
because baby, just tell me
I can shave
and I think you’re worth it
and maybe I’m not good enough
right away. But I’m more than
an apron wearing shell
that makes you great sandwiches
and gives you that extra cheese
cause, baby I feel for you
and I want to know what makes you tick.
I want to know you

Good Christ
Are you this lonely?

Cause I sit in certain corners
of my room and get cold,
I mean really solid,

I can’t move against
these things that have been happening
beneath ice clad sheets
I can’t get up

in the early morning
although I like that time of day
for falling back to sleep
in what could

and will never be of our memory.
Now I sit and watch the cold
dissipate on the big window
that acts as my mind's sentry.

Friday, January 4, 2008

Scraps From Microsoft Document, "Going Home Rituals," Written December 22, After Work, 2007

Tonight I prepare to go back home
Like so many times before
A six pack and I
Will unearth a royal blue suitcase
and fill it up with my nicer shirts.
The ones I only wash
when I’m at my parent’s home.

These same shirts, collectively,
don’t get clean for weeks,
sometimes months
because I’m too old to tell
my mother I don’t know how
to get them clean myself
But I think she's finally caught on.

Sometime in the next week
I’ll be in my old bed
with the shades turned down
but open enough for the moonlight
to come in.
And I’ll see the same view
I’ve grown up with;
a frozen lake,
a couple pine trees,
and light pollution
from downtown Minneapolis
I’ll think about things
like where I’ve been
and where I’ll be.

At that moment, I won’t be
at my home
any longer
for I know nothing
of the city I grew up in.
Now that I’m older and
living four hundred miles away,
I feel all Chicagoan and grins
in vintage tees with jeans
but my heart will always be stuck in
Minnesota winters,
even if I don’t feel like a native
In my bed room,
In my heart, I always will be.

Now I’ve drank half the sixer
and packed my weathered bags
and I'm ignoring the other brews for
my scavenger roommates
like I usually do
twelve hours before I leave.

And in my wake a woman,
no, the thought of what could
And never will kill me
Sometime in the
next week I imagine it loves me.
I imagine it lulling me to dreams.

I told you that you would never believe me

There at the embankment of a highway overpass
runs a fearful friend of mine,
away from a car crash
and what he has recently decided is a "drinking problem,"
but what is most likely the same pressures we have all considered,
now embodied by what he does at this very moment:
running from that potential threat,
be it unaided social interaction
or clear-headed consideration regarding the state of our lives.

But I love him, like I love all of you
and if I wish you anything
it is the ability to stop running across freezing Minnesota highways
at three in the morning,
or maybe the strength to drink all day,
and never think that you have a problem.