Reoccurring themes in last Saturday’s writing

I

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.

II

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
Personally
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.”
Apparently
“afternoon”
means
after
three
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
Cake
Delivered
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.”

III

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.

IV

I went on a bike ride today
with my roommate.
It was forty degrees or more
today
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.

V

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.

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.

haiku

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

until...

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

Really Any Wonder

Pride
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.