Monday, October 25, 2010



I asked God to describe my heart and he said whatever town it is it isn’t far from home and I thought WOW he didn’t understand what I said I said HEART and He said Don’t act like I’m stupid, I’m not, just think about it OK I said He reminds me of my Dad with his voice and all AND SO I DID.




The funny thing about Jesse James is that everyone grows up and thinks they know Jesse James but they don’t. Take me, for example. I know that he owned a gun. That’s all I know about Jesse James. And it’s possible that he didn’t own it, he might have borrowed it and pretended to forget to give it back. Some people aren't nice.


Saturday, October 23, 2010


Ein Baum wächst in Brooklyn. It’s true: A Baum does wächst in Brooklyn.


Today I wanted to join THE SONS of LEE MARVIN when I discovered that to join THE SONS OF LEE MARVIN you have to look like you could be the son of Lee Marvin. I don’t think I do. Jim Jaramuch says that he does and so he started THE SONS OF LEE MARVIN club which is a secret society and then invited other people like Tom Waits and Nick Cave and even Iggy Pop all of whom I suppose think that they look like the son of Lee Marvin which is all pretty presumptuous I think because they all know Lee Marvin but they don’t know his son, Christopher.


Today I loved reading Eugene Onegin so much that I thought I better find out how to pronounce Eugene Onegin in case I wanted to talk to someone about it. I looked it up and listened to a robot saying the name of this very good book. “Eu-gene O-ne-gin” the robot said in perfect English. I thought it would be nice if they gave the robot a Russian accent but they didn’t. I did find out, though, that “Onegin” is pronounced just like you would pronounce it in Spanish if the word had a tilda on the ‘a.’ Oñegin. I listened to it three times to make sure and then imagined a robot dressed like a matador carrying a huge sword.

Sunday, October 17, 2010



Do you ever say to yourself
I wish I just was hair?

And hair -- do you ever say
to yourself...of course not.

Why would you? You are the one
without the mouth who isn’t
seaweed. I have one, one mouth
but it is just saying Oh Just Look
while just looking 

at the waves of seaweed, in the ocean 
of waves, when I was six with wavy 
hair long and 

wet happy--how they sing! How
we all do! Or perhaps not 
so much, perhaps it’s just one
of us. At a time. We all take turns.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010


People are taking the positions 
that I deserve but have not been 
offered because I lack a degree. 

I woke up and bought a great life 
insurance policy. It protects my family’s 
furture, not future. Furture. My furture.

Animals are my passion. I would like 
a career in that. Although people who 
say Sure, I would love to help you 

are rarely the people that they claim to be.

Three women would LOVE to meet me:

One, Valerie, thinks that smoking cigarettes 
is never OK. 

Laura, on the other hand, 
would love to go to a fancy hotel - or 
perhaps a beach resort? 

Winifred believes that a committed relationship 
is something that she would consider - 
with the right person.  

The problem is, they are all about 50. 
And Winifred is a funny name. It’s not 
a good funny name. In fact it is bad.
Very bad. Very very bad but...
they are who they are.

I just want a proomtion. But how? 
Arline said: I can help you with a

Arline says: nursing offers personal and 
professional rewards that are endless.

I say: I am aware that nursing offers personal 
and professional rewards that are endless.

But I need help, and how. PROOM!

TION! And that I do not have a luck psychic, 
although I would like having one. I think? Now

I await Tara’s celestial wisdom. For example. 
I am appreciative.

I have already forgotten about other worlds. 
I mean, I think I do. Over there.

I am so much a part of this world. For example: 

if I ever became a diabetic, I would enjoy 
complementary diabetic supplements. I am old 

enough to appreciate things that are complementary. 
I appreciate supplements. I appreciate diabetes. 

In the old days, orchards never offered to give you 
credit cards. Today they do. I don’t know how I feel 
about that. I think bittersweet. What happened?

Oh God, eldercare.

On the other hand, my fantasies are tasty and real. 
Triple A ones. But not like the car, it’s like the bra. 

I am thinking of women. I like cars. Thinking of 
women, it makes me sing. Cars sing also.

Ey were in a passion, and o, Goosby Morge says. Sings.

Surely you want you manhood would stay. He sings. Says.

Goosby Morge instructs and informs. Me: Should I go 
to Canada soon? Goosby Morge: YES!


Arline told me that I need more letters after my name. 
That will stop me from being turned down again and 
again from the job of my dreams. No examinations! 
No classes! No textbooks! No examinations! 
No classes! No textbooks! No examinations! 
No classes! No textbooks! 

Arline also told me my name is R. Garet. 

I keep thinking of that chair that holds 
your head with a leather strap and breaks 
your neck in India and Africa with the sun 
so hot and mean.

Now my psychic is here I can feel it.

It's simple

I want a secure life. But people sometimes aren’t 
who they are. Insurance makes you secure. That’s why 
they call it a policy. Arline says: something. I feel psychic.

Goosby Morge says People aren’t who they are. People aren’t people.

Insurance is for everyone who is alive and happy and alive and sad!

Goosby Morge has a good name. 
His name reminds me of the phrase: 
Good Morning.

Good Morning, Goosby Morge.

I can buy a mouse but it will cost me 
38 dollars. But that is a good price, 
these days, for a mouse.

No examinations! 
No classes! No textbooks! 

Your neck in India and Africa, 
with the sun so hot and mean

I mean

Thursday, October 07, 2010



I keep a copy of Michael Chabon’s WEREWOLVES IN THEIR YOUTH on the third step of the staircase on the way to the bedroom.

Sometimes the cover is dusty, although I try to vacuum the stairs once a month.

Michael Chabon is exceedingly handsome; and it is true that he is from Pittsburgh.

I generally walk down the stairs completely before I put on my glasses, and the third step is often a doozy.

Sometimes I don’t know why I do what I do.

I thought of placing the book at a 90 degree angle, but I felt that it would look awkward to incoming guests when the door opens and they see the third step of the staircase.

Still, a 90 degree angle would assure greater visibility of WEREWOLVES IN THEIR YOUTH while walking upstairs, and more importantly, downstairs.

Although many of Michael Chabon’s titles are difficult to remember, they are fun to recite once you have committed them to memory.



It is better to have a book places askew than to have invited guests taking you to the hospital--or the morgue!

It is true, don’t you agree, Michael Chabon’s wife loves him more than their 4 children but then again maybe I am interpreting this 2 literally.

After all, hasn’t Michael Chabon written 4 books?

Do I not have an apartment--without a staircase?

Since when have I enjoyed housework, stairs, falling down, hospitals, morgues, language, etc.?

I can’t help it: I try to write “I haven’t” and I keep writing “I handsome.”

It’s not me, of course. It’s Michael Chabon. Those smoldering blue eyes. That French Kiss tongue.

If I were an author, and my book was translated into another language, that would be the end of my life in a good way.


I would say, “Put me in a time capsule and then shoot the time capsule” and then of course “Bury the time capsule” after that.



I am committing this to print as we speak. This book, whether it is dusty or married, that’s up to you. I like “married.”

"Etc." is my abbreviation for "Eternity."

SUMMERLAND, why, there’s another. Book, I mean.

Then again, you can’t take things too literally these days. For example, when I say “Michael Chabon”--what do I really mean?

I would like it if you knew, but I will be happy to matter what.

And what about “book”?

What about “handsome”?

How about it, handsome?



Today I watched a coming attraction about a movie regarding a clairvoyant and I was bored and yawning throughout the coming attraction because I really couldn’t care less about clairvoyants and then suddenly a flood came rushing into a faraway village with thundering power. At that point I thought: if only I could watch a movie that was only about floods without clairvoyants, without a single one. then I would be the happiest man on earth, or better yet, if I could be in a flood, and I know that sounds insensitive, but I have to be honest, I would like to be in a flood. I really would.


I want to be in a flood as often as possible although I realize that it’s like with bears it’s a lot different when they are closer to you. Although I really have no interest in being near a bear. What’s the point? What can a bear do for you? The best a bear can do for you is give you an interesting animal to draw, but they do not tend to stand still very much, certainly not long enough to render into a proper drawing. And so you are just left with nothing but a poorly drawn bear. And sadness. A flood, though, can make you happy. Even the thought of it can make you happy. Don’t ask me why: nobody knows for sure. And the thought doesn’t even compare to the flood itself, when it comes. It can even make you laugh. Nothing quite compares. Why? Again, don’t ask me why, but everyone agrees. There’s nothing better than a flood unless it is another flood right after it.

Monday, October 04, 2010


I try to imagine
My girlfriend

born long ago
in Holland
her father saying

let’s name her

you know,
Dutch for

Saturday, October 02, 2010



“I’ve never heard of it,” Annie said.

“Quisp Cereal,” I said. “From the sixties.”

“Sure, and HOW old was I in the ‘60’s?”

“Well, you’ve heard of Abraham Lincoln, haven’t you?


I miss reaching into my pocket and thinking
OH I’ve got a lot of change and then finding out
that it’s mostly subway tokens without having to
put on my glasses to see that they are subway tokens
and not change I simply have to touch them and
I would know I miss just knowing
most of all.


Today I watched a video clip of Basquiat painting. He drew the letter E, very slowly, in white paint. And then he paused for a moment, and begin painting again. At first it looked like it would be an I, then it looked like it would be an L but finally it was obviously another E. At this point I thought that Basquiat had painted himself into a corner. What could you possibly do with two Es? Finally, Basquiat began painting again. At first it looked like an I and I thought Uh Oh, but then it became a P and I thought Bravo! Basquiat had survived another castastrophy. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day: EEP. and that was the end of the film and the end of the day.

Friday, October 01, 2010


Who Wins This Game?

The girls win this game.
Their eyes are coco-baroque.
Pure cocoa-bare, bold,

The guys laugh.
HA HA. Go for baroque.

But the girls aren’t kidding.
Their eyes are beautiful.
Smoldering earth and
naked fire, all the time.

They hate stupid jokes.

Soon they are far away.
Far away with possibilities.

Quick! Jump into your
Monte Carlo and
follow them!

Sure, like you could afford
a Monte Carlo.

Man oh Man.

They’re gone, Buster.

You better just sit down
and cry if you know
what’s good for you.
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