hello? (eight words)
cant call you
cuz
you have
my phone
My first
1 year ago
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
vengence is mine (American Sonnet)
a cellphone is ringing in the stall next to me
the man answers it, and i roll my eyes
i hate when people talk on the crapper
"no, no, no thats the wrong credit card"
I wonder if the person on the other line can hear the tile echo
I flush the toilet
"I'm not actuallly at my computer"
I flush again, with an evil grin
"I'm in the middle of something"
he sounds nervous
I smack the toilet paper roll hard so it rattles it unrolls audibly
"I should probably call you back"
I flush again, laughing
It's going to be a great day
Monday, March 26, 2007
Friday, March 23, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
The Thirty Second Ride-Out (American Sonnet)
a simple yellow painted line keeps me from my son
i kneel outside the circle, yelling in fatherly advice to my 7 year old
but it's just him in there, it's not my battle, louder wont help
they are evenly matched in skill and fury
attacking, defending, attacking again
it's the kind of fight a mother wont watch
a crowd has gathered as word has spread that this match is exceptional
three periods and an overtime and it's still tied
both of them are crying, gritted teeth and an eye that will soon be black
the ref calls for a thirty second ride out
max chooses 'bottom'
his opponent must hold him down for 30 seconds
max simply has to stand up, to win
go baby, go
The photo is from the actual match I'm talking about. You can see Max hitting his opponent with a Standing Whammer. It's pretty badass, and it was back and forth like this the whole match. They take after their Mom
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
on writing
I'm considering writing Sonnets.
It's mostly a problem because I dont really know what they are. I have surprised myself that I enjoy the confines/structure of Haiku's and Steve Caratzas's 8 Word Poems (I call them something different because I am afraid/unworthy of the word 'poem')
Sometimes I feel as if I need more room to describe something, but is a Sonnet too big? I've found several different definitions for what they are and I am surprised how much it varies. Some involve rhyming, some dont. In some it's important how the line is metered out, some it is not. As much as I've enjoyed writing, I am very aware of my complete retardation regarding grammar and spelling. Those subjects cause loud buzzing in my ears.
I'm considering merging the rules of several different types and creating my own little Sonnet Mutation. Maybe that's what I'll call it. A Sonnet Mutation.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Saturday, March 17, 2007
They are all around us
Look at all these people
who think
that war is patriotic
just because we are commiting it.
and no other reason
and have no problem with
the billions stolen
or the lies told
and the poor boys who lose their
legs
minds
lives
they just kinda shrug at that when you ask.
must not really bother them.
maybe they dont have any sons.
or souls.
no, they are against
a cancer vaccine
because it involves
the vagina
no really. thats what they care about.
"character" and the vagina vacine.
enjoy church on sunday assholes
I'm sleeping in
what would jesus do?
Thursday, March 15, 2007
I dont remember when I gave up the dream
when i was a kid I wanted to be an Astronaut or a Garbage Man. I think I could have become the very best one ever, in either case.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Wingbowl 15: Part 4 of 6: The Procession
thanks for your patience with this...it's been very hard for me to write.
This is the part that will stick with them for the rest of their lives. The next ten minutes wont translate well to anyone else from now on. Sort of like that GREAT movie that you really bought into, and you're trying to tell your best friend, and they get excited because you're excited, but until they see it, it's just not the same.
They will forget the specifics of my performance, or who won what today. It will all be lost soon enough, but they will always love me over this tiny bit of strange time we shared together. I'll always be welcome for a beer and a big man-hug.
It's fun, wild, and also pretty dangerous too. We all purposelessly forget how dangerous the procession is. It's gotten better in the last 2 years, but I'd rather keep my wits about me at this point. The first year I was in an Enterrauge we got mortared with full cans of beer, cups of beer, rolls of toiletpaper, and other trash thrown from the upper levels of the stadium. All this shit crashing down around you with such force and all you want to do is is put your fist in the air like you just scored a touchdown. The Maddness of a teenager.
We are que 5 of 20, with WingKong just infront of us in the Stadium chute. He mounts his mobile boxing ring with 10 strippers aboard and is dragged down the tunnel towards the light. Is that what heaven is like? I know he is in the stadium when I hear the thunder of the crowd. They just love love his float.
All along while we have been waiting the radioshow has been going on. It's not broadcast over the loudspeakers, so unless you have an AM radio with you, you wont hear the eater introductions, color commentary or the play by play. The little man with the clipboard waves us forward towards the light. My brother inflates his bagpipes, and when he starts to play, we march in.
I am told later of some of the things that were said during our introduction. There is a mention of all the beer that was confiscated from us. A nice thing they said about me was: "This is not a fat man. This is a Serious Eater" I am happy about that.
Inside the stadium, workers have erected the Hockey Glass that the Flyers use. It is in the same Oval, and we are to walk along the inside of the glass counter clockwise in a parade around the stadium. To our left, is another short metal fence keeping the people with 'floor seats' contained. If things go bad, you can hug the glass and be afforded reasonable protection. All of the photos I'm including are clickable for a larger version, and I will try to find one that show how big this place looks from the floor.
If there is something you must do....
All morning Artie Lange has been quiet. He has read his paper. He has drunk coffee. He has discussed Foreign Policy. And now the call to procede, has spurned Artie into action, and he emerges from the Flyers' lockerroom in all of his brilliance. Instead of a Kilt and T-Shirt, Artie is resplendant in a Baby-Cupid Costume he has rented. It is stunning with white fabric upon his white-skin. The toga style is remeniscent of a cloth diaper. Feathery White Wings adorn his back, A blonde wig upon his head. A Magic Wand in his hand that really does promise miricles.
As grim as I am at this moment, I fall in love with Artie all over again. He has had a vision, and chose to fulfill it. He has taken advantage of the opportunity with bravery and courage. The Chix LOVE it in an inverse proportion to how much the drunken Eagles fans are to hate it.
I give one final cough and it starts.
We are in the stadium and my brother is piping by my side. Streamers, Confetti and Garbage fall upon us like rain as we make our way around the stadium. Video Cameras and lights surround us as we march with our giant beer can in tow. The crowd enjoys our presentation and all of us get a turn on the Jumbo-Tron. They list my stats and some of my eating feats.
Artie Lange prances in circles around the group with a sign that says 'Cupid Loves Beer' Midway around the stadium Artie is stopped and interviewed on Television.
My wife has made it down to the Hockey glass, and I'm able to mouth 'i love you' to her. She's been incredibly supportive through this and I can tell she's having fun too. I spot some of our other friends nearby and it feels good to see them cheering wildly for us.
This is it for me. I've worked for a whole year to come back to this moment. For months I lived it in my dreams, MONTHS. I am as serious as anyone can be about this, ascend the risers to take my spot at the table. At this very moment, I cant be any more ready. Like the great Badlands Booker raps, I am 'Hungry and Focused'. Keeps your fingers away from my mouth.
I take my seat, and it's over an hour wait while the other 20 Contestants procede in.
Ugh.
Monday, March 12, 2007
a trip back to the town I grew up in
i'm standing in the starbucks parking lot
watching my breath hit the air
the suv's thunder up route 9
i can't help it
i just hate these fucking people
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Friday, March 09, 2007
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Dr Stinky Tests My Limits
I have a high tolerance for discomfort, especially when it's based on the senses. I can listen to annoying repetitive noises. I can eat ultra hot spicy foods. I can endure the smells from my sons' bathroom. I can stare at ugly people.
This morning my limits were tested by a medical student in his late 20's.
Two stops before I get on the trolley is an Apartment Complex that is mostly filled with Medical Doctors and their families doing their Residencies. They like the area for it's good schools and rail access to Philadelphia Hospitals.
I sat next to a nicely dressed man who was studying what appeared to be Calculus. His pages were covered with Mathematical Symbols and his lips were moving slightly like he was memorizing for a test.
I had been standing on the platform in 15 degree weather and was happy to be indoors.
Within moments of thawing, my eyes began to tear. I breathed deeply, and coughed. Something stunk, and bad. It was a combination of armpit and onion. The biggest, most acidic, most spoiled gooddamned onion on this planet.
I turned my head slowly to determine the smells origin, and confirmed it was the studious son of a bitch next to me. Everytime he moved to turn a page a new wave of olfactory terrorism struck me.
Most people would leave or vomit. Some would do both. I was intrigued how this man was immune to odor and wondered if he had some sort of mutant gene that produced such a smell.
Once while bicycling accross country, we came accross another biker who would join our group for a few days. He had picked up a Parasite in South America that caused him to have the most unearthly farts. I was the only person capable of sharing a tent with him. Nice guy though.
I tried again and again to listen to my ipod, but the smell was almost chemical, and began to burn my throat. My eyes darted to the exit doors. I wondered how his papers did not burst into flame.
This Doctor breaks the first part of the Hippocratic Oath just by standing next to a patient. He's going to kill more people than he cures.
Please someone help me...help me....
My throat is still burning!
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
He's My Favorite Honkey
Look very closely at this ad. Notice the Golden Sarcophagus of Tutankhamen. Nice Huh? Well, if you go to the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia and spend $25 per person plus $7 per person on the audio tour you will see THOUSANDS of objects associated with him and his family. Yes, The "Treasures of Tutankhamen" show has Gold coated chairs, Gold coated Gods, Gold Coated Jewelery, Gold Coated Everything. It's amazing how much of this guys crap survived the last 3,000 years.
The one thing you WILL NOT SEE is the Gold Coated Sarcophagus that they show in the advertising. That's right, the ONE object that you identify with Tut, isn't there. I spent two hours going room to room, reading every little description card, listening to the voice of Omar Shariff to watch an animated slide show of the Sarcophagus in the final room. I was very happy until that point.
They wrapped the City Trolleys with this photo. The Front of the Museum is covered with a picture of it that must be 100 Yards wide. They shouldn't use it in the advertising and they should tell you before you drop all that cash and wait in the crowded lines and packed dark display rooms. They suck Golden Coated ass.
Friday, March 02, 2007
I plan to Saw Broward County, FLA off the Continental US.
That whole Anna Nicole Smith thing was the last straw.
At the end of the court case to determine where her body should be buried, the well-tanned judge cried. That really disturbed me. Doesnt he see sad and horrific events that happen on a daily basis to REAL people or innocent children? Does he cry for those people too?
Broward County was already on my shit-list. Remember that whole 'hanging-chad' fiasco? If Broward County had their shit together, the Iraq War never would have happened and we'd at least be LOOKING for Osama bin Laden.
How can one little county screw up a whole country so much?
This weekend you wont hear from me, because I'm borrowing my buddies Sawzaw and I'm going to cut the whole thing out of Florida and let it float out into the ocean. Let it be an island nation of idiots. I just need a long enough extension cord, thats all.
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