The Order of the Soul

When I'm bored, and I want to try and figure out things, sometimes I resort to puzzling over Leonard Cohen lyrics. In the song "The Future", he sings:

The blizzard, the blizzard of the world
has crossed the threshold
and it has overturned
the order of the soul

Wow. I can get the "...blizzard of the world..." concept -- but what is "...the order of the soul..."? I wanna know about the order of the soul. Sorry, the Order of the Soul. Or, how the Soul is Ordered. But I looked around, even in real books that talk about stuff like that, and no luck. Lots of talk about souls, and kinds of souls, from all kinds of perspectives & traditions, but no discussion on order.

Oh, well. Some smart person reading this could give me a hint. I'm sure Leonard is sick to death on trying to explain what he was singing about.

gone dead i can't find it

it is gone dead i can't find it
no way to look it up via google
all these years past you at the time
commonplace and normal
irritating controversial in my face
old i made you cry

Try This Out - e.e. cummings through "nowever"

My best friend, musician & designer Evan Sornstein, has put out a CD of some of e.e. cumming's poetry. Evan worked on this project for at least a year, and when he was done, he released it as "nowever" through dynamophone records. If you like e. e. cummings, this may intrigue you. You may even discover I'm included in one of the tracks. Ha! Here is an interview of Evan discussing the motivation, and process behind the creation of his CD. Also, here is a link to Curiumlab, an online repository of some other examples of his music. Starting with industrial music in the late 1980s, with his band Battery, he's been an integral part of the SF alternative musical scene for over 20 years. He's regularly collaborated as part of Nux Vomica, as well. Evan continues to publish his work, and other musicians, through dynamophone.

Are you neurotic?

Via MetaFilter, are you neurotic? I have a few neurotic tenancies. Those who know me well, I hear you groaning at that statement. What do you mean, "..a few..."? If I drink directly from a tap, I never drink more than ten gulps of water, and I count the gulps. I save all my receipts, for no good reason whatsoever, and in my George Costanza-sized wallet, I carry a fake piece of eight, and the letter Q Scrabble tile (worth 10 points!). My first vehicle was a used faded orange Toyota truck, that I never washed, when I bought it, it had an action figure leg in the bed of the truck that I never removed, along with a section of small rusted spring. The entire time I owned the truck, I would make a mental note of the action figure leg, and the spring, every time I unlocked the vehicle. In Junior College and then in College, I pretty much exclusively wore a green army mechanics jumpsuit, three sizes too big, for about 5 years. When the buttons would fall off, I'd put them back on with paperclip wire, because wire was so much more durable than thread. Then I'd stuff all the oversized pockets with pens, papers, journals, books, so I looked like a hamster. I got tired of having to get haircuts, so I'd just put the 1 or the number 2 guard on electric clippers, and just shave my head. I have spontaneous arguments with inanimate objects, like trees, cups, and stoves. The inanimate object usually is right, and I am wrong.

our cats love us

this spring morning
they torture a small bird
and bring it half dead
to our bedroom

..

heute frühlingsmorgen
sie quälen einen kleinen vogel
und holen sie ihn beinahe absolut
zu unserem schlafzimmer

Do You Know the Way to San Jose?

I don't know if I should be sad, or happy, for the fact that I know what San Jose looked before, and then after, they completely redid their downtown.

News - McSweeney's Issue 27 is Now Released

I'm full of news nowadays. Amazing. McSweeney's Issue 27 is now out, you can order it from all kinds of places, including Amazon.com, City Lights Bookstore, or even directly from The McSweeney's Store. Included in this issue (which is broken into three separate books) is the cartoons I had in the apexart cartoon show, the work of the other artists in the show as well, plus a previously unpublished 72 page sketchbook by Art Spiegleman, and some new fiction by Stephen King.

the camera obscura is closed

i am shouting

i shout some more

the camera obscura is closed

it is so important

..

ich schreie

ich schreie mehr

das Kamera obscura ist geschlossen

es ist so wichtig

...

eu shouting

eu shout ainda mais

o obscura da câmera é fechado

é tão importante

....

я кричу

я кричу еще некоторые

камера обскура закрыта

настолько важно

.....

암소는 쥐를 미행한다

수다스러운 우는 백치

곧 나의 물통은 가득 차있을 것이다

나의 눈의 물에서 채우는

Lao Tzu, Chung Tzu, I & the Glass of Water

i.

I'm in the kitchen, getting a glass of water, when Lao Tzu come in.

"Hello, Lao Tzu." I say.

"Hello there." says Lao Tzu. "And what are you doing?"

"I am going to drink this glass of water." I reply.

"Ah!" says Lao Tzu. He laughs. "You shouldn't DRINK the glass of water. You should BE the glass of water."

Lao Tzu leaves before I can say anything back.

ii.

A bit later, I see Chung Tzu.

I show Chung Tzu the glass of water. "HERE is a glass of water. Lao Tzu says I should BE the glass of water, not DRINK it."

"Oh my." says Chung Tzu. "Oh deerie me. What can we do?"

Chung Tzu takes the glass of water. He looks at the water in the glass, over the top of the glass. Chung Tzu looks at the water through the sides of the glass. He looks at the water, in the glass, through the bottom of the glass.

Ching Tzu mentions me to come closer, and he suddenly dumps the entire glass of water over my head.

"Why did you do that!?" I yell.

"Hmmm." replies Chung Tzu. "From my experiment, I think in possibly 1,000,000 glasses of water, you may actually make some progress this way."

-- dedicated to J.P. Frary & N. Kerns

Chung Tzu & the Air-Conditioner

"I'm on fire." I say to Chung Tzu. "You're on fire. The whole World is on fire!"

We both look at Lao Tzu, who is smiling & seems to be asleep.

"EVEN THE SQUIRRELS ARE ON FIRE!" I explain.

"Damn, brother! All that kind of talk makes me feel hot!" says Chung Tzu. "Quick! Turn on the air-conditioner!"

Momo Says:
Oh, Chung Tzu!
If only we were as direct as he;
Seeing one reed different,
And the same as another!

News - Opium Magazine is on KQED Public Radio in SF

Opium Magazine, the online & offline literary magazine I edit cartoons for, is being featured on The Writers' Block, part of KQED Public Radio in San Francisco. They're running selections from Opium Magazine's 250-word Bookmark Contest. Hey -- and don't forget -- it isn't too late to submit entries for Opium Magazine's Shya Scanlon 7 Line Contest, the winner (and some runner-ups) being published in the next Opium Magazine .print edition, Opium7. If you win the contest, you get $1,000. Also, mentioning print...Opium6 just came off the presses -- Go Green! (But Save Me First). Here are some sneak peeks (via Opium's graphic designer, designer & overall Renaissance Man, Mr. David Barringer) at the contents of Opium6. Note who did a cartoon. I have a few in there, along with John Callahan. I can hardly wait to get my hands on a copy, it looks fun. Way to go Todd!

Starbucks, Do Something Quick About Your Stupid Size Names

I was reading this today, about irritating people you run into at Starbucks. I think no. 8 -- ordering from someone who refuses to equate what a "Small", "Medium", "Large", or "Extra-Large" drink is to the Starbuckian universe of "Short", "Tall", "Grande" and "Venti" has always irked the crap outta me. I realize this must be one of the oldest complaints in the history of Starbucks. But, Starbucks, seriously, these names you use for sizes is sooooo intuitive. Even if you go along with these stupid size names -- we go from the arbitrary English terms "Short" & "Tall", which could mean anything -- then suddenly we're all into Italian. Ok. "Grande" means "Big" in Italian. Fine. So I guess "Large" = "Big". But going with the Italian, "Venti" means "20". So "Extra Large" = "20". But the "Extra Large" is either 20 ounces for hot drinks or 24 ounces for iced drinks. So for any kind of consistency, why doesn't Starbucks call the "Grande", which is 16 ounces, a "Sedici"? Starbucks, why don't you make your contribution to world peace and the salvation of mankind and choose arbitrary English special size names for all your sizes, or go all Italian with size names that follow some kind of consistent rules? Since you're an American corporation, from Seattle, I'd encourage you to stick with English -- does that make sense? And we'll keep the first two size names, so as to not upset people who have been ordering the two smaller drinks since the 1970s. Here you go:

Suggested Revised Starbucks Arbitrary English Cup Size Names:

8 oz - Short
12 oz - Tall
16 oz - Spank My Puppy
20 oz - Spank My Puppy Hard
24 oz - Spank My Puppy Hard & Cry

I really want to try to wrap my brain around the size terminology when my brain is almost totally blacked out, and I need a large coffee, plus I'm hung over. But Starbucks, the name system you have for sizes is broken. But you'll never take a drink from the well of sanity and just go with "Small", "Medium", "Large", or "Extra-Large", will you?

A Visitation

I was sketching by the side of the road
sitting in a chair in the bed of my pickup
when he pulled over and asked if everything
was alright

I said everything was fine and he got
out of his car and he smiled and said
"Well, then, if everything is okay, please give
me all your money."

I told him I didn't have any money on me
but if he wanted, I would draw is portrait
"No thanks." he replied and he drove off

When he drove by later to see if I was still
there I waved

Old Christopher

i.

They say I do not know
Cathay
or any of its islands
thereabouts

"Liars!" I cry at them "Liars!"
till all my strength
is gone

I rest and watch
the seagulls
wheeling above
dazzling white walls

I pick any ripe
rancid olives that I can reach
from the trees
and I try to hit
the servants

ii.

People around me
whisper I have
gone mad in my old age

But I know I sailed
to Cathay four times
and if I had found
enough gold
I would have my own
villa on the highest hill
of this town

Noblemen and knights
would come from far away
for advice instead
of laughing
when they hear my name

If I was young and strong
I would sail there again!

iii.

But now my eyes ache
my knees hurt

And in hearing my story
no doubt you despise me
saying all I can do
is sit here
as a crazy old man

Well to hell with you
too!

I am to be reckoned with!

I demand it!

I was the KING of
lonely unknown seas
where the wind cried out
blowing wild foam
as I spoke
to monstrous clouds

My men were afraid
and they shook begging
for home but

I gathered all I saw
as the Master!

The Gateless Gate.

Try this out. The Gateless Gate.

Aurora Green

Her name is Aurora Green, and she likes pink silk and red coats. She'll never tell you, but she also likes expensive purses, though she has no use for them. When she lived by the ocean, she'd watch for the moon, and what phase it was in, and if it was rising or falling, or if the moon was out during the day. Now after moving to the midwest, she watches the sky, particularly at sunset, looking for that lemony metallic color that is so interesting. She likes to ride her bike downtown, to the historic shopping center, and she window shops, but she doesn't buy anything. Sometimes she reminisces about a boy who broke her heart, but her heart has been broken not that often. This one boy broke her heart in a special way, it has left her freer than after past breakups -- where now she is happy and doesn't need anyone or anything. Riding home under the trees, she can't help thinking life is not exactly a private joke, but it could be an exquisitely funny limerick. Aurora knows God doesn't mean to hurt anyone, but God also is forgetful. And Love is exactly like God. They might be the same thing. When she is back in her apartment, she write a few poems, one or two are worth keeping. She carefully places these worthy sheets in a box with other promising poems, and reseals it with a wide white shimmering silk ribbon. She places her hands on the top of the box, and for a brief moment she inadvertently looks to the place on her hand where she wore a ring. She looks out the window, looking forward to a lemony evening sunset.

Things I Have Learned So Far

1. Don't do, or say, stupid things.
2. If you meet someone once, you'll probably be meeting them again. However, next time they may be in a position to help you out in ways you cannot imagine.
3. Keep your temper, but if you can't, never initiate an action when you are angry.
4. Tell the truth. Liars are worthless.
5. Never steal anything, ever.
6. Always tip -- but make sure to tip the bartender generously.
7. Have the right tool for the job. Never "make do" with anything less than the right tool.
8. Listen more than you talk.
9. If you don't understand someone, still be respectful.
10. Don't stare.
11. If she's interested in you, she'll let you know.
12. There is no virtue in being broke, but money doesn't buy happiness.
13. There is no such things as bad luck. Everything happens for a reason, at the right time.
14. Never let your best friends down.
15. If you speak kindly of people, it will rub off on them.
16. If you are being inconvenienced a bit by helping, then you are probably helping enough.
17. Nobody gets away with anything.
18. You can fight for the Truth, but if you get in the way of the Truth, it will crush you.
19. Giving advice is good, but generally worthless.
20. Anything will seem bad if you don't have an open mind.

A Poem About the Maid

I see
the silhouette
of the maid
vacuuming the
upper landing;

she vacuums
next to a
very expensive
painting,

then she moves
down to start
the hardest part;

the spiral stairs.

Catching Butterflies

i.

The ship is burning. The air was clear. The table just had been cleaned. As we turned the corner, my arm broke. Ready, called the captain. We slid rapidly down the hill. Fountains of gore filled the hallway. Suddenly, the bridge collapsed. I saw an opening. The crowd cheered. I could hardly see. The children cried, "Monkey! Monkey!" He climbed higher onto the roof. Brett wondered about the noises. The plane barely lifted off. A posse rode into town. It was flung sideways, clattering, out into the hallway. Look out! She realized, finally, what had happened all those years ago. The rift widened, glowing a sinister red. That was all it took, George lost his marbles. They all screamed together one last time. At sunset, on the last day of April, the guest arrived. You will never know, you cannot know, even I don't know.

ii.

The entire building began to tremble. It was too late, and they saw it wasn't safe. The thing was magnificent, monolithic -- and horribly ugly! He snuck back out the building, and around the corner. A revolver was produced. The chamber was unexpectedly small. Dust floated in the air, catching a stray shaft of sunshine. My mother was on that train. The story was over before it began, but I was wrong. Impossibly it bridged the gap between the cliffs and the towering castle. You again, she said in a low voice. The loudspeaker was playing a song in a foreign language. Everyone in the joint was dead, but the band played on. The wall closed in, and then it wasn't there. We traced the seam, which was supernaturally straight. He told the truth, he didn't know it was all a lie.

Mystery

She obligingly
removed
all her clothing
for me

We made love

The multi-colored
silk bathrobe
was left behind
in it's mystery

On This Dark Overcast Day - or - How Chung Tzu Would Bow to a Single Blade of Grass with a Dew Drop Half Way Down the Side of It

It is a dark, overcast day, with a hint of rain, and there is no coffee, but that is not important. I am thinking about Lao Tzu and Chung Tzu, and what it would be like if they were in my backyard, possibly wrestling in slow motion. This would never happen, of course, the two locked in wrestling moves. For starters, Lao Tzu wrestles nothing. And Chung Tzu would rather contemplate taking on a trembling blade of grass, with one purest dew-drop on the grass half way up that reflects in itself the entire moving sky, and bow to it with complete satisfaction.

Another Google First!

Ha ha ha! If you Google "poem about kepler", my Kepler poem comes up as #1 in the search results. Googling "kepler poem", I come up second (both hits via the most excellent Josh Maday website, Disseminating Josh Maday). Thanks, Josh.

Block the Noise of the Damn Birds

I sleep in a tent in the backyard. At the first bare suggestion of light in the sky, the birds start yakking at 4.30 AM. Then my animal totem, the mocking-bird, starts playing the North American Bandstand of bird-calls at 5 AM, until about 6.40 AM, directly over my head. Then he moves down the block to bug the shit out of the neighbors. It begins to gently rain. I think the reason why people started building houses was not to keep the weather out, but to block the noise of the damn birds.

Wanting the Biggest Bomb Possible

I'll tell you something, and after I tell you, it won't be so surprising: if you ever are in a job where you need to have a bomb, you'll want the biggest one possible. It doesn't matter if it is dangerous to have the bomb to be "too big" -- you just want to have the most powerful bomb possible. They might say, bomb A is the best one for this particular mission, and bomb B, or even bomb F would be total overkill, and even hazardous to you and your cohorts...but if you can have bomb F, or even H, you'll feel so much better about it. Especially if you hear some other fellas got to use the bigger ones. Why can't we share, fer cryin' out load? We're special too! Everybody deserves to live.

Tiger Attack

I dream we are sitting on the couch when suddenly a Tiger comes into the room. The Tiger may, or may not be our domesticated family pet. But now it is clearly apparent that the Tiger is going to attack me. I jump back as the Tiger lunges at me, and it manages to hook a claw into the heel of my right foot, gouging a big hole. Then as I fall down into a sitting position on the rug, the Tiger jumps towards me. I instinctively go to push or punch the Tiger in the snout with my right hand, but the Tiger opens it's jaws and my hand goes into its mouth. I feel my right hand being mauled, and sort of falling apart as I can distinctly feel my wrist separating internally under the skin (this feeling is reminiscent of when I broke my wrist in the real world, falling off a motorcycle). I pull my red mashed hand out of the Tiger's mouth and I cup it against my chest with my good left hand. I am now in a fetal position on the rug. In the dream, when my wife doesn't say anything for about a minute and a half, I ask her to call an ambulance.

Truth & Listening

Chung Tzu and Baseball

A storm rolls into town. The wind blows. Lightening flashes.

"When I talk to you, I get excited." I tell Chung Tzu.

"When I watch baseball, I feel like crying." says Chung Tzu.

Happy May Day

Fritz Christopher -- has it been 2 years and a day since we last met? We miss you so.

Lao Tzu, the Sticks, and the Tree Trimmers - or - Chung Tzu's Funeral Song to a Dolt

As they trim the tree, Lao Tzu, in slow motion, gathers a small pile of sticks, each stick being about 2 feet long. He ends up with a pile of about 40 branches, each the thickness of my thumb. The tree trimmers pay attention to Lao Tzu, but Lao Tzu ignores them. Because he moves slowly, and carefully, the trimmers keep an eye out so they don't drop any of the larger cut limbs onto his head.

I have no idea what he is doing this for, or what he will do with the sticks when he is done. But at the same time, I don't dare interrupt him, because the way Lao Tzu moves and gathers the sticks -- it is poignant, sad, and a bit poetic.


```

Later that evening, Chung Tzu comes by and sees the stick pile in the backyard.

"Ah!" he says, pointing at the pile, "A family has been dispersed into the world. Some of the babies will never see their Mother or Father again."

"Is that so?" I reply.

"Oh, yes." assures Chung Tzu. "Now I will sing a proper funeral song. Loo loo, cookoo, moo moo, badaboum. Foom foom, room room, badaubeoi boy."

After a pause, Chung Tzu looks at me. "Did you understand what I was saying?"

"No, I didn't quite get it."

"Okay, I'll sing another one. Hoo hoo, boo boo, foo foo, alagaha hoo! Shoo shoo, moo moo, arouh arouh, bama DA BOOM!!"

Chung Tzu looks at me. "Did you understand what I was saying?"

"I'm sorry, but no."

"Since you fail to comprehend, I will attempt one last song for you. Roo roo, goo goo, boo boo Da da DA DA FOOM! MA ma ma goo pop pop slop hrap! Flop schlock mop!!"

Chung Tzu looks at me. "Did you understand what I was saying?"

"No."

"GOOD!" shouts Chung Tzu.

Lessons I've Learned from My Son

Here are some things I have learned from my son, who is almost 2 years old:

1. Wake up smiling & laughing. You'll be guaranteed to have a mostly fabulous day, if you start off fabulously.

2. A generous amount of shampoo, if you have it, can be smeared in your hair, to create that sassy "Billy Idol" look. Additionally, any substance worth smearing should be smeared on your temples.

3. You don't have any fireworks? Take an electric toothbrush, turn it on, and throw it on the floor! Wow! Look at that! Seriously, try this.

4. Any kind of race car, or Matchbox, or Hotwheel becomes 20% faster after being bathed in toilet water.

5. Also, if you have a older sister, and she is at school, her flip-flops are supposed to go in the toilet.

6. Food is for eating, throwing, wearing, and playing like a musical instrument.

7. If it can be tossed out an open window, toss it out the open window.

8. People are pleased when you hide their small possessions in random drawers around a room, or in the waste paper basket.

9. If a door is open, shut it. If the stove is off, turn it on. If the cup is full, empty it over your head.

10. Everything is BEAUTIFUL! Everything is AMAZING! Everything is WONDERFUL! Everything is a TOY!

Finding Gifts for Chung Tzu

I like giving Chung Tzu gifts, and I know he enjoys receiving them. One day when I was out walking, I found something I though he'd appreciate.

"I would like to give you this old stick!" I said to him, when I got back to the house.

"Why, thank you. What a pleasant surprise." said Chung Tzu, and he took the stick and he held it as if it were a delicate artifact.

A few days later, I gave him an old banana peel.

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Chung Tzu, who immediately folded it like it was a $100.00 bill and put it in his coat pocket.

When I presented him a empty can of beer, he was quite content to accept it, and peer into the hole like it was an exotic augury.

Finally, one day, I came home with some glistening fresh dog feces.

"Oh!" said Chung Tzu when he saw what I had to give him, "Marvelous! Amazing! You have overwhelmed me with your generosity!"

"No, please," I replied, "I want you to have it."

"I cannot possibly accept such a rare and fine gift as this!" declared Chung Tzu, "No, instead, you should keep it for yourself -- so whenever you look at it, you'll think of me!"

News - A Chicago Earthquake!

At about 4 AM this morning, half awake, I noticed the earth was shaking. Why was I awake? One of our kids had decided to get up at 3 AM and they were happily burning the midnight oil in our bed. So at about 4.25 I hear the windows rattling -- and I knew what it was! Earthquake! Being from California, I know intimately what earthquakes feel like. This one lasted about 20 seconds, a gentle rolling sensation. Next day I read that it was a 5.2, second strongest ever recorded in the state of Illinois. It was followed up by a 4.5 aftershock, which is nothing when it comes to shaking. A 5.2 is sorta an earthquake. Now, if we get a 6.0 or above, now you're talking. Remember, each time you go up in the Richter Scale, you up the shaking by a magnitude of 10. But the intensity of an earthquake also has to do with how deep the event is in the depths of the earth, and how close it is to you on the map. Put it to you another way... when the earth starts shaking, and you go outside and you see parked cars see-sawing end to end, and power lines are going up and down like jump-ropes, and you feel like leaning against the doorjamb -- now that is an earthquake. I hope that doesn't happen here, because our house would fall down. Do I have earthquake insurance in Illinois? I'll have to look that up.

"Connections" by Kevin Spaide, over at Opium Magazine

Opium Magazine posted a hilarious story the other day, called "Connections" by Kevin Spaide. I'm always doing this kind of thing to my friends. And by now, they know they have to put up with it. Blame the internet. Hey, speaking of the internet, here's another story by Mr. Spaide called "Come Home", from the Summerset Review. I like his writing. It reminds me of stuff I used to do & situations I was in, growing up in semi-rural Sonoma County. Most of the places I used to go for fun are all gone, it is all built up now.

News - Ranting over at THINGS DON'T WORK

I posted a fine rant over at THINGS DON'T WORK, about how my land-line phone has been co-opted by legions of robotic telemarketers.

Leprechaun Facts

Do you like Leprechauns? Of course you do! Here are some interesting facts on the wee little folks that I have discovered recently:

- If you touch a Leprechaun with the handle of a used toilet plunger, they will explode like a hand-grenade. I guess you shouldn't be doing this, unless you are wearing a bomb disposal head to toe outfit.

- Leprechauns are crazy about Sudoku -- simply mad about it. Fluffenuffer O'Callaghan, from Kelp County, Wisconsin does at least 500 a day. He very nearly lost his pot of gold over one particularly enthralling puzzle.

- When it comes to drying their clothes, Leprechauns prefer natural, air drying. But a Leprechaun will only wash his clothes every 100 to 200 years in a Clear Stream with Smooth Pebbles at the Bottom looking of Gold. You could say a Leprechaun is generally very aromatic, smelling strongly of cheese, mead, and randy wool.

- Leprechauns have a "Wall of Shame" in a Dale, hidden under a Spring, by the Large Crooked Oak, in Peel County, Scotland. Leprechauns that have violated Leprechaun Law have their names written on it for all eternity. Smargis O'Toole is the latest entry, for turning a few innocent rabbits from flesh to lead.

- How much gold is in a Leprechaun's pot? That is a good question. It depends on how old the Leprechaun is -- there will be one magic gold piece per year of the Leprechaun's life. This magic gold coin will appear in the pot year after year on midnight of midsummer's eve. Ordinary gold coins are collected if the Leprechaun feels like having more coins.

- Now I know some of you are wondering, what do Leprechauns do? For real. Unfortunately, if a mortal ever figures this out, the nearest Leprechaun to them psychically realizes this, and the Leprechaun is duty-bound to come and kill you with a big wooden hammer with a shamrock on the side of it. So it is well to be wise in the ways of Leprechauns, but not too knowing, at the same time.

Did You? Wake the Hell Up!

I wake up, covered in ants. I discover don't like waking up covered in ants. Why am I covered in ants? They aren't biting me, but the ants are tiny and taste like pepper when they get in my mouth. I think, someone rolled in food, and then slept in this bed. Did you? Wake the Hell up!

Walking on a Beach on the Isle of Fork

Waking up this morning, I got some dream advice: If you walk on a beach that is covered in forks, on the Isle of Fork, expect to get stuck by at least one fork.

How to Dress Like a Tourist in Europe

You are an American, and you are going off for your first trip to Europe. You have some vague ideas on what this trip will be like, you'll have to go see the Effile Tower (sic), and the big art museum nearby in Paris Town. You've wanted to do that since 9th grade. Also, stop by jolly old England, home of the Brits, and go to the other Tower, this one of London where they chopped off peoples heads. Rome is in the running too, the Pope lives there.

But the main thing you worry about is, how to dress like a proper tourist. The kind of tourist that can get around savvier and faster than the locals, under their "cultural radar". You want to be dressed, so when it is time to strike & get that deal for a hotel room or a platter of pommes frites, you'll not get snagged on something or be laughingly turned away. To help you, here are some suggestions:

1. Wearing blue jeans is a must. In fact, don't bring anything but blue jeans. Bring some new ones, bring some old ones -- if you get in a jam, everybody knows you can sell them for hundreds of Euros a pair -- those damn Europeans are crazy about American blue jeans.

2. Nobody in their right mind would go to Europe and not wear white sneakers. Due to Europe's arcane and antiquated transport systems, and the fact that many Europeans have never learned to drive a damn car, because the roads are too small -- you know you'll be hoofing it all over the place. You've studied many travel shows and seen how much walking is done in Europe. Sensibly, white sneakers, the whiter and fatter the better, are the obvious choice. Bring two pairs.

3. If you forget a fanny pack, you might as well curl up in Heathrow and die. You're going to need all your money and important irreplaceable documents on you at all times, for easy access to conduct business and clinching a deal that may come up with rude or unsuspecting foreigners. Without this fanny pack, you won't be able to hustle your way in and out of those tight situations. Wear it right in front, and don't worry, it doesn't make you look silly, because you have a purpose here.

4. The weather in England is pissy and rainy. In France, the weather is pissy, rainy, sunny, and full of the French. The sun in Italy is harsh and unavoidable. You'll want to make sure you bring a baseball cap, the kind with webbing in the back to keep the back of your head cool, but with foam fabric in the front, to shield you from bird droppings & staring locals, because face it, Europe is full of pigeons and gawkers. If you feel sassy and proud, have a big American Flag patch on the front of it. That'll show them you're serious and not afraid of what those people from the EU think.

5. Have lots of maps and travel books. Carry at least two maps and a travel book with you at all times. For perspective, one map should be of a country you have been in, or are going to next. Thinking strategically, the other map should probably be of the last city you were in, or the next city you'll be going to. There is a lot of information to absorb, and you may need to consult from your travel book at any time to glean the obscure cultural references that are going on all around you. Mark places that you think will be key with little post-it stickers. The locals expect to pull some fast ones on you, taking advantage of your lack of travel experience, and the fact you haven't bothered to understand anything about their day-to-day lives, or learn the rudiments of their language beyond hello and another kind of hello, but that is what being a tourist is all about. You can read the travel books and maps for the first time while flying on the plane, a few hours before you land. Then the knowledge these materials impart will be fresh in your mind.

6. Either wear a sweatshirt two sizes too big, for comfort, or a nylon windbreaker. Better bring both, because sometimes it snows in Europe, at any time. Logo or information on the sweatshirt could be a swanky victorious American flag, unfurled and blowing impressively. Barring that, sport logos, like the Chicago Bears will make you friends or mollify hostility because everybody loves the Chicago Bears. Have a Disneyland sweatshirt as a backup. A Seattle's Space Needle sweatshirt will show you are culturally adept, or at least show you know how to drink good coffee.

7. Though not technically an article of clothing, a camcorder is going to have to be on you at all times, at least in public. Use the device more, not less, and be sure to narrate loudly to the microphone exactly what you are seeing and exactly where you are, so you won't be confused when you watch it later in your living room at home with the extended family. Don't worry too much if this seems to be irritating people who live in Europe, they know their whole economy runs on tourism, and they couldn't get a decent living without travelers like you.

8. BACKUP: If all goes wrong, and you can't make headway, bring a Canadian maple-leaf pin and some Canadian flag patches. Though this feels dishonorable, and you are betraying your nation by having these & displaying them, the Canadian pin or patch could be your ace in the hole. Of course, when you open your mouth, everyone will know you aren't Canadian -- keep mum and your eyes on the prize, and you should be able to get though a rough spot.

9. MISCELLANEA: Here are some optional things you can bring that you may find pleasing for your trip.

- A sun visor, the kind that has no cap on it so your hair sticks out the top. The deeper the visor, the better.

- The biggest, blackest sunglasses you can dig up. To shield your eyes from the glare of the sky on all that marble & stone ruins.

- A second camcorder! In case their first one gets damaged on the plane, train, or cab by jostling persons who have no concept of personal space.

- Lots of sunscreen, lip balm, and extra make-up -- because you know at some point you'll mess up packing and you'll have your stuff confiscated.

- A few bottles of American bottled water. You might want to ration this and see if you can make it last for as long as possible, until your tummy gets used to the water over there.

- For the above reason, and if you are sensitive and haven't eaten food in places other than your home town, you might want to consider bringing a Cosco sized Pepto-Bismol too! Better safe than sorry!

Good luck and have a memorable trip!

Aren't You Going to Thank Me for That?!?

Yes, yes, I drank your precious bottle of genuine India Ink. There, are you happy? No deceptions, I did drink it. If it makes you feel any better, afterwards I was immediately sick for 25 hours. I was horribly and absolutely ill, like I was going to die. Don't you feel bad about that? Wine? What wine? OK, I'm really going to come clean with you -- I drank your wine. How much? I don't know, how many bottles did you have laying around? That many? I don't know if I could have physically drank all of that. I had a few glasses. More than a few, don't get so touchy. Look, calm down, don't be so goddamn touchy. It cost how much? Lordy, I didn't even know you could buy French wine at that price. I won't say I'm sorry because I can see that will only make you more angry, and do you see how that makes me feel? Hurt. Speaking of hurt, I may have hurt your car. Where is it? That is a Question for the Ages. I was in a hazy state of mind and the road was definitely not the safest place to drive, in my confused state of mind. It may be under a large tree. Scattered under a large tree. OK -- I parked it in a large tree, and parts of it are scattered under the tree branches. But I have the keys, and it is locked, so nobody is going to steal it. Aren't you going to thank me for that?!?

Breakfast

I was going to write something good, but then shit -- we go out to breakfast. I get the kosher salami with eggs sunny-side up with a coffee. You get the baby Belgian waffle and a vegetarian omelette with an orange juice. Yes, we want cream with the coffee. The waiter tell us he's waiting 6 tables, and sorry if he's slow. No problem, don't worry, ok. The Belgian waffle is slightly burned on top, so is my kosher salami. Your vegetarian omelette is fabulous. Daniel takes all the sugar packets and dumps them one by one onto the floor, experimenting with gravity. Pay the bill, leave my cell-phone behind, go back, get it, go to the grocery store at the corner because we really do need a few things. Now back at home, I sit down. I still have to put all the groceries away & the leftovers. What the hell was I going to write?

News - THINGS DON'T WORK

Hey -- I'm firing up my long neglected blog THINGS DON'T WORK. Used to just be for technology, but now it will be for multi-topical bitching and complaining, too. Because everything should generally work better than it does, and it could, if people gave a damn. Drop by and see the latest diatribe -- airline horror stories. If you have a topic or a complaint, feel free to send it to me. If it is good, I'll just put it up.

AND?

"I've been told that fleas don't drown in water." I say to Chung Tzu.

About ten minutes of silence goes by. Then Chung Tzu looks up at me, and he says, "AND?"

Hill of Beans

Things are just ducky. I have a nice spread, neighbors don't bug and the kid can walk to school. Then one day, a big beanstalk pops up through the floor and this human boy is running around the house screwing with stuff and it all goes to hell. Wouldn't you know I end up blind, drowned in a lake by that wiseass Jack. And the last thought that goes through my head as I settle at the bottom is, who'd believe how I got down here and life in the end ain't worth a hill of beans.

Waking Up in the Middle of the Night

In the middle of the night I am interrupted by waking up, aware in that instant in dreams I am on the verge of completing important, hugely complicated metaphysical tasks of conceptual reasoning that will be a refinement of the vast undulating ceaselessly replicating mystical underpinnings of the universe. And that kind of shit is fucking weird.

i have my ways

i have my ways
they please me

i defined sunlight
i defined snow

my sunshine is
not your sunshine

my snow is not
your snow

why we came
to this

of how snow
was snow

or sun was
the sun

i do not
know

dali

dali is near the end
of his life

he sits in a chair
with a rubber tube
up his nose

surprised to be photographed
all eroded in a leopard-print robe
in a dead dream

something inside

i am sitting here
late at night
after studying

my light is on
and on the other
side of the room
my roommate
is sleeping

i am waiting for
a bottle of beer
to get cold so to
amuse myself
i leaf through
ginsburg's kaddish
though i hate him

suddenly i realize
the freeway is
very loud

i have been living
two years within
earshot of it and
it's sounds were
no longer entering
my consciousness
until again now

i feel a vague
late night thrill
of horror because
i had ruled out
the sounds of the
freeway for months

killed the sounds
of trucks and cars
as a possibility for
almost a year now
until this night
it all came back
to me

i feel as if
i have committed
a crime so i pick up
four books of matches
& look at their
gaudy covers

one has a phone number
written on the inside
in loopy handwriting
but i don't recall
whose it is

i will never call
them but i admire
the phone number
for what it offers me

another matchbook
advertises fine home
and gardening products

another book is from
a cigar store

the last book of matches
is from seven eleven

i hear the freeway
and the 18 wheelers
roaring through the night

overdubbing reality
should be a capital crime
i think to myself and
i tilt the chair back
almost fall over

sounds quiet down
i check the beer
it is cold on only
one side

i realize i have
many books of matches
but no cigarettes

i drink the beer
with a light sweet
empty taste
simultaneously something
in my mind or
in my soul bows down
acknowledging
greater forces of
consequence in
the universe

these forces
will utterly overpower
my arrogance in
affirming reality

one of those
big-rigs could
drive off the highway
and come here
and kill me

something
inside me knows
that

Phone Story

The phone rings.

"Hello." I say.
"Yes?" I say.
"No thanks." I say.

I hang up the phone.

In This Life

"What do you think is the most impressive thing in this life, that you ever saw with your own eyes?" I ask Lao Tzu.

Lao Tzu doesn't reply. He may be asleep, sitting there.

"What about bugs? Mud? A broken stick?"

Lao Tzu shrugs.

I spy a squirrel in the backyard. "What about squirrels?"

"Ah! You should probably have been a squirrel in this life." says Lao Tzu.

Lao Tzu and the Orange

In the morning, I was in the kitchen peeling an orange, when Lao Tzu came in.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm peeling an orange." I reply.

"That's a fine looking orange. Why did you have to go and ruin it by peeling it?" he asks.

"Because I want to eat this fine looking orange." I reply.

"Oh! Excuses, excuses!" says Lao Tzu.

~

Later, I find Chung Tzu, who is hanging out with a few hobos under a railroad bridge. He looks scruffy, and they are sharing a bottle of Thunderbird in a paper bag.

"Here! Sit down with us and have a drink!" says Chung Tzu.

I sit down and have a big swig of Thunderbird. In a time, we are all drunk. A train goes overhead.

"Lao Tzu told me to leave oranges oranges." I say. "So how do you eat an orange?"

"Oh, that Lao Tzu!" says Chung Tzu, and he slaps his leg. "Lao Tzu is the best. You can't beat Lao Tzu!"

My New Religion

I'm ready now to invent a new religion. I don't know the specifics...but it will be funny, yet serious, impressive, yet humble, thoughtful, but not didactic, easy to pick up, but hard to put down, obvious, yet surprising, fresh, yet not a novelty, energetic, but not spastic, true, but not fatalistic, powerful, but not savage, informative, but not like Al Gore. I don't know if I'll have priests, or ordained ministers. I do know I'll want to encourage people practicing this religion to have skills -- they should possibly be able to change the oil on their own car, or have the determination to get though college in less than, say, 5 years. Churches are cool, churches are a great place to go inside when it is hot, because the right kind of church is cool and dark & mysterious inside with stained glass, so we'll have to have stained glass and that kind of thing. But I'd have to think about the layout, I don't like cruciform, and I also don't like circular layouts. There's much to consider, inventing a new religion. Try it sometime -- what kind of religion would you invent?

On the Watch List

You're on a watch list. One of a couple watch lists for suspected terrorists, complied by a myriad of federal government agencies that are overstaffed, over funded, and competing against one another. The problem is, you are so fucking BORING to watch. BORING! BORING! You don't go out enough, you stay in the house day after day in those old yellow pajamas and an old tee shirt and that ridiculous motorcycle jacket liner & you don't appear to comb your hair. Sometimes you wear mismatched socks -- what the hell is up with that? Match your damn socks! Get a damn haircut, and trim that weird goatee beard that looks right out of The Deerhunter. The beard thing looked good on Robert De Niro but you ain't no Robert De Niro -- not even close, buddy, okay? What the fuck else? Buy the cats dry cat food, stop using baby formula powder instead of milk in your coffee (that is so GROSS!), brush your teeth, put your damn clothes away, and clean up your office. Your office is disgusting! And file all those files piled up in the filing cabinets! Filing cabinets are for FILED FILES, not PILED FILES. And you're not acting like a terrorist, you have no terrorist friends, your family lives in Napa fer Christ's sake, we have no idea why you are on this list, but if you'd do something remotely terroristic, or questionable, we'd be so happy we haven't totally wasted our time. And have to watch your pathetic life. You overwrought bastard.

Poem - the midnight vote

the midnight vote
that's the biggest one
sealing thoughts
that normally float
free and easy
like butterflies

so i stay up
i recline on the couch
i watch the night get on
the stoplight at the corner
goes red green yellow red
with no cars

THE STORY OF ARTHUR BRENTLEY

1. george mellon sat down one afternoon on the spur of the moment and even though he wasn't a novelist he wrote the greatest single book ever to be produced by mankind
2. everyone was very impressed so george was invited to appear on oprah. he also made a great deal of money giving a large sum to his mother who had paid for his college tuition at the international school of policy & research in escondido california
3. george named the book "fuck goddamn shit" which people found hard to accept. at first the book sold well outside the united states and other english speaking countries
4. he was invited to india and the former soviet union. he was invited to burma and the new nation of bunsawwalli -- the bunsawwallians wanted george to be their new god-king but george said no because he had allergies and was afraid of air-travel
5. george's portrait began appearing on calendars postal stamps bills of sale posters fruit stands newspapers magazines post cards and in national galleries
6. the people of america finally decided that "fuck goddamn shit" was not obscene in the sense of the novel. now the whole world embraced george and his work
7. fans wrote him long letters in all sorts of languages asking george if he knew about god puppies shoe laces unsolved murders conspiracy theories metaphysics semiotics cajun recipes ufos or how the stock market would be doing or if there would be war anywhere in the world and was it time for the people of this little blue planet to become enlightened
8. george got a full time secretary to coordinate the answering of his mail. the secretaries name was pam and she was pretty. pam had recently graduated from juilliard with a degree in music and had huge student loans, she had brown hair that smelled slightly of peppermint
9. in the following spring he was blown to bits by a bomb sent as a disguised medium sized box of flowers and assorted chocolates made from cruelty free manufacturing processes. everyone was very surprised george was gone and there was an extended inquiry into the circumstances of his assassination
10. his body was buried secretly by his relatives in a small rural cemetery that had not been used in over 100 years
11. george mellon author of the greatest novel ever written by mankind lays in a small grave with a tombstone naming him ARTHUR BRENTLEY
12. the only thing to add is pam drew a heart on the marker below the name with pink lipstick because it was the only thing she had to mark the grave under a wide wide blue sky

News - Apexart Show Cartoons

Some people have asked to see the work that was accepted for the April apexart cartoon show. If you want to see them, go over to my cartoon blog, I'm putting them up. Blogger is acting funny right now, but I'll get all four posted as soon as I can.

CM Evans @ Apexart & McSweeney's - April 2008

Big news! I've been invited by Dave Eggers to be a participant in a cartoon show at apexart in New York in April. The title of the show is "Lots of Things like This", and will feature 100 cartoons from blockbusting talents like Saul Steinberg, R. Crumb, William Steig, Ralph Steadman, Shel Silverstein, David Shrigley, Nedko Solakov...keerist the list goes on. There will even be work by Alasdair Gray, one of my favorite writers & illustrator. Topping it all off (if it could be topped off), McSweeney's will be publishing an edition that will be a companion to the show. My work will be in that publication too. I am frankly, totally amazed this is happening. Up to this point, I haven't been invited to be in anything, anywhere. If you love art, cartooning, or satire, you won't want to miss this installation. Opening is on April 2, from 6 - 8 PM. The show runs April 2 - May 10. If you make it out on April 2, I'll see you there!

James Bond's Gun

Though not technically crazy, he ruins the action movie for himself by trying to imagine what the world sounds like to James Bond's gun, if the gun could hear. Most of the time he thinks, the world would sound muffled. But when James Bond drives the tank through the wall, he thinks, wow, the gun would have definitely heard that!

My Turn Now

Do I write, do I draw, no. Do I write? No. Do I draw? No. Am I in 1975? No. Do I have a red suitcase, with a red suitcase inside the red suitcase? No. Is there a note inside the red suitcase, in the red suitcase? No.

What color is the stove? What color is the color blue? Is blue red? Is green white? Do all straight lines curve? Does everything that rises, converge? Is God the color of water? Did it rain last night? Was that evening purple, like soda bubbles?

Where is Small? Small is a cute bug. Small was small. Where did Small go? It is my turn to look for Small. I will find Small. When I see Small, I'll say, "Hello, Small!" Small will smile at me. Small will wave & I will wave back.

What I Want & What I Will Do

- I want to be as fox-crazy as Tom Cruise. Yeah, that crazy. Then I'd be able to scale tall buildings, playing the star spangled banner on a comb with a piece of wax paper, while turning all the water in the city of Chicago into peppermint schnapps.

- I will be known as "The Man in the Iron Mask", even though I have never worn, nor ever will possess an iron mask of any kind. I will be feared as this persona throughout the continental United States of America, and also especially in Australia, because of my maskless exploits.

- I will be held in high esteem while wearing a pope-like paper hat made from a shopping bag. Drawn on the front of the hat will be a cute kitty cat, but it won't appear to be silly in any way while on my noggen.

- Likewise, I will appear in public wearing a paper suit, with attractive shoes made of cardboard. I will move with the poise of Fred Astaire, virtually sipping Napoleon Brandy in my wild wild ways. Often in this getup, I'll do a quiet little dance in the mystery section of the Oak Park Public Library, 3rd floor, by the Swedish Detective Fiction. Hear me roar!

- Finally, I will convert my toaster oven into a time machine, in which I will be able to squeeze into, by using long forgotten techniques of Feudalistic Magic. After transporting myself to 5 million AD, I will battle the Morlocks and vanquish them, to found a new civilization where every citizen is a genius, and their children will write numerous ground-breaking novels about Tricopia, my favorite imaginary land of bountiful colors.

The die has been cast!

Via Wikipedia - Random Wikipedia Articles

Today I decided to play with the "Random article" button on Wikipedia. Here are a few things I found out:

Virgos Merlot -- "Signs of a Vacant Soul" was the group's first, and only album. I thought Virgos Merlot would turn out to be an artist from Europe, but this is an American hard rock band from Birmingham, Alabama.

Yinggarda -- is an Australian Aboriginal Language, of tribes living on the central western coast of Western Australia.

Anomoeanism -- A 4th century sect of Christian Arians, following the opinion of Aerius, that believed Jesus Christ was totally different, in nature, compared to God. The sect kept going after Aerius confessed to the Church that his opinions were wrong.

Riddickart -- Mark Riddick scares me. He makes me good 'n scared.

List of UK Prime Ministers -- Who doesn't need to know who all the Prime Ministers were for the United Kingdom, going back to 1721? And their party affiliation. Well, here they are in a handy graphical display...every name there also clickable to a separate Wikipedia article so you can find your favorite PM. Wow, that Walpole guy, and that William Pitt dude were Prime Ministers, like, forever!

Now you have something to talk about when you go home tonight. :-)

Game - Crayon Physics Deluxe

You should go check out Crayon Physics Deluxe, by Jim Merithew. This has got to be one of the most intriguing & interesting game concepts I have seen in a long time. Reminds me of my reaction to how revolutionary the Wii is...because most "innovation" in technology and "game concepts" are boring repetitious engaging of older worn out concepts. Then through the mediocrity comes something beguiling, simple, and totally captivating. And this little game just won the Independent Game Festival's grand prize of $200,000.00. Way to go, Jim!

Tomorrow It Will Snow

Tomorrow it will snow, and I look forward to that. I've been told we've had a terrible winter, this year. This being my first winter in the Midwest, I have found it to be oddly beguiling. My only complaint is dealing with ice, once it gets started, it is hard to clean up. But who can complain about snow, twirling falling flakes of quiet snow? A heavy falling blanket of snow, erasing details, falling over houses and streets? You go to sleep on a bitterly cold black night, with the naked tree branches swaying & scraping -- and in the morning, by breakfast time, the entire city has been muted in an expanse of white. The world has less of an edge, boundaries erased, and still the fine particles of snow fall less some, more so. Then the people come out to damn the snow. Everyone, except me.

The Battle of the Nile

This morning, Chung Tzu, Horatio Nelson, and I are sitting in a cafe. It is clear, sunny, and cold. Ching Tzu orders a latte, 1st Viscount Nelson orders a doubel-shot of espresso, and I have a cappuccino. We're used to one another, so neither Ching Tzu, nor the Vice-Admiral say anything about me ordering a cappuccino.

"Did I tell you about Brueys?" says Baron Nelson out of the blue, while doodling in a napkin.

"The French Admiral? At the Battle of the Nile?" says I, trying not to be burned by my drink.

"Some call it the Battle of Aboukir Bay." mentioned Chung Tzu.

"A trifle detail, but an important one, yes." says Captain Nelson, brightening, and looking at Chung Tzu with his good eye.

"Yes, you beat him, and his fleet." I reply. Ching Tzu and Nelson don't hear me.

"Captain Thomas Foley displayed initiative, slipped through the gap in the line and a few others followed. So you could attack on both sides." mentions Chung Tzu, as if talking about clouds.

"And it was bonnie well done!" exclaims Nelson, bouncing up and down. With his face shining like that, and him so pleased, we didn't say anymore about the Battle of the Nile. Everybody likes to be around Horatio Nelson, especially when he's happy.

Via Mangle - Ugly Random Web Pages

So today I decided to go back to Mangle and check out random personal webpages. I haven't done this in years, I used to do random sampling all the time, to try and come up with interesting links. But now I remember why I stopped random sampling. Yeeech! The number of crappy webpages out there is beyond belief! Here are a few of them:

Vishal03 -- You're killing my eyeballs with the green textured background that looks like a blizzard of puke. Yes, from the picture, I can imagine you're having a raging time with your pals.

Bocefuss! All I can say is, wow, I hope you get the site constructed, any change is better than what's up there now. Actually, now that I look at it, it is kind of like Zen meeting Taoism.

jmr08860 -- Ahhhhhhh! A ROOSTER PAGE!! No, it is not "KOOL". My brain slid off it's chassis when I saw the blue and green stripes.

Heartland/3682 -- I wasn't going to rip on the Barker Family, and I'm still not going to rip on the Barker Family. But when the music started playing, I wanted to rip on the Barker Family.

Palms/9420 -- I like your site. Simple. Completely broken. I could stare at it all day.

Vienna/1591 -- Starting out with, "This page will never be completed. It experiences what one would call a continuum of existence..." suckers me into hanging out 5 minutes longer than I normally would in your sucky, angst-ridden, narcissistic webpage extravaganza. Keep up the good work!

That's all for now. I hope you enjoyed this post as much as I did.

if you really/ do it

darling i'll
love you
madly
absolutely
if i love you
at all

which is bad
i know
very bad to love
this way
experience shows

i'd write more
& try to put
the obligatory
twist at the end
of the poem

but love is
a bitch of a
proposition

never simple
or safe

if you really
do it

vatchel

vatchel lindsay
lindsay lindsay
you were a liar
and a drunkard
and above all
a poet

people paid
to watch you
in theaters your
higher vaudville
as you called it
BOOM BOOM
BOOM

treking across
the wastes
of middle america
with no money
paying with spoken
words

and then after
hitting your zenith
years of slowly
going down down
a star like lucifer
now just a tin plated
phony

america dumbed
further and further
by the depression
you grappled
with children and
family debts

vatchel lindsay
on one afternoon
drank lysol
"those bastards wanted
to get me --
but i got them first!"

but i will always
remember you
by that one photograph
arm out head back
hips cocked
wracked in
poetic ecstasy

vatchel lindsay
i could be
like that

vatchel lindsay
lindsay lindsay
i have been
like that

Chung Tzu & I vs The Librarian

I see Chung Tzu in the "quiet reading" section of the Oak Park Library.
"Hello, Chopped Stick!" he says.
"Hello, Dirty Old Man!" I reply.
"Shhhhhhhhhhh!" says the Librarian.

We wait until the Librarian is gone.
"So what's news?" asks Chung Tzu.
"It's raining. There's water in my garage. I can't stop the water from getting in." I reply.
"There's garage in your water." says Chung Tzu, thinking this statement is very funny.

I look to see if the Librarian can hear us.
"I can't get everything done, at my house. There's too much to do." I say.
"There's a dirty sock on your stairs." admits Chung Tzu.
We wait a bit, as the Librarian walks by.

"Hey, Dumbass!" says Chung Tzu, this time loudly.
"Hey, what, Shitwit!" says I, as the Librarian calls Security.
"I wouldn't want to be a Librarian in a world with us in it." says Chung Tzu, standing up.
"I know what you mean." I say, as we get going.

Being Here

In the morning, Chung Tzu comes into the house, unannounced, of course. He finds me in the kitchen.
"What are you doing?" asks Chung Tzu.
"I am upset." I reply.
"Don't be upset." says Chung Tzu, and he leaves.

Later, at noon, Chung Tzu comes into the house, unannounced, as always. He finds me in the basement office.
"What are you doing?" asks Chung Tzu.
"I am thinking." I reply.
"Don't think" says Chung Tzu, and he leaves.

Chung Tzu returns at sunset. I am back in the kitchen, by the stove.
"What are you doing?" asks Chung Tzu.
"Being a goat." I reply.
Chung Tzu this time smiles, and he leaves.

Late at night, I am in the kitchen again. It is quiet, everyone else is sleeping. Chung Tzu quietly lets himself into the house.
"What are you doing?" whispers Chung Tzu to me, as if we are forming a conspiracy.
"I am being here!" I whisper back, handing him a cup of tea.
"Good!" he whispers back.

One Morning, Not So Long Ago

One morning, not so long ago, I was walking though the woods. To my surprise, I saw a young man at a fork in the path, standing on a dunghill. He was wearing a sharp looking business suit, and looked very out of place.
"Hello." I said to the young man.
"Good morning!" he exclaimed.
"What are you doing here in the middle of the woods, dressed in a business suit?" I asked (because I couldn't help wanting to know).
"Oh!" the young man said "Well, I am glad you asked! I am trying to be the most Important Person on this dunghill!"
"Gracious!" was my reply.
"Yes. Yes. I made my plans, chose my action, and here I am DOING it." He took in the wide blue sky, the bare trees, everything around him. He was greatly satisfied. Then he looked at me. "Do you have any suggestions, or advice so that I may achieve my goal more swiftly and efficiently?"
I though about it for a moment. "Know your limitations." I said.

Historical Facts - William Tell's Practice Shot

I was sad today to find out that William Tell had a few kids, besides his eldest son, Walter. He was so scared at shooting Walt in the noggin, he practiced on Hundertwasser first, and missed. I guess he felt so bad about this shooting accident, in 1354, W.T. died while trying to save a child from drowning in the Schachenbach, an alpine river in Uri. His favorite crossbow, Wolfenstein, is now in Das Wichtige Historische Supermuseum der Völker die Crossbows Schossen und Kampieren Mögen, in the little hamlet of Schnell, by the 14th century Schloss Nein-Ausgang. God rest his troubled soul.

Music - Easy Star All-Stars - Dub Side of the Moon

Needed some music to kick me up to the next level. So I got out "Dub Side of the Moon", by Easy Star, and playing it loud, it rocks...takes me back to the past & forward to the future. Imagine Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" redone into brain-busting reggae, no-holds barred & you got it. Very few CDs I've purchased over the last few years have such a place in my mind -- in terms of creating raw astonishment, and listening pleasure.

We Demolished the Wrong Building

We demolished the wrong building. Okay, I'll say it again, we demolished the wrong building. It wasn't 3342 Barnham Way, it was 3324 Barnham Way. That aside, the job was a snap. But the problem is, we demolished the wrong building. And it was a church. You can't fire me, we're partners. You said you wanted to run the office, and I'd go out and do the jobs.

Poem - i want to mope

i want to mope

i want to mope
but the kids are up

i can't brood until
they go to bed

one kid works
on her homework

the other has a bottle
& walks all over the house

dripping dots of formula
shrieking room to room

so i drink cup after cup of tea
smoke cigarettes

standing by the stove vent
set on the highest setting

i watch it snow in
a nocturnal backyard

then i think of chung tzu
& all his great advice

are you thinking too much?
then don't think!

are you wanting something?
then don't want it!

i pick up my son i tell him
"you look tired!" he laughs

so i laugh

homework doing daughter
laughs too

Poem - with the heart of a child

by chance today
i look in the mirror

i realize i look like
a dangerous madman

hair all wild
eyes piercing

how is this possible
with the heart of a child?

Dear Diary

February 11, 2008
21:33

Dear Diary,

Today we attached the 14 ton science lab module to the International Space Station. It was technically very challenging, but we did it. No pressure, I mean, it only cost 2 billion dollars. And right at the end, some nameless breathless idiot in Mission Control goes, "BEAUTIFUL JOB!" into Leopold's ear, so he almost crushes the brushings.

So, later we all got high on some hash brownies. You can't even faintly imagine how fantastic the Earth looks from space, when you're stoned. Even Schlegel felt better, and said Africa talked to him. NASA will never know.

My Battle with the Ice

In the cold night, when I fall on my ass really hard, I know I'm back. Ice and dress shoes don't work. Ice and formal shoes, with a backpack and a suitcase in tow does not make a happy ending. You won't even be walking upright very long. So I fall more on the way home. I fall backwards onto my back, full on the backpack, my legs shooting out towards the street. I fall like I am drunk, or like I was shot in the chest by a stream of machine gun bullets. When I'm not falling, I am almost falling, skidding, slipping, doing a funny little dance here and there. And I can't help but cursing as traffic flys by on the dry road. Why can't these m***er f*****rs keep their sidewalks shoveled? There's at least one bastard on every section of a block I have to walk through. Whoops. There's another one. When at last I get home, the last stretch of pernicious hateful ice is on my section of sidewalk, in front of the house. Bastard that I am, I die one last time, going down, as if hit with a rock. This time, I fall in silence. I feel like throwing my suitcase into the bushes, but I can't get enough traction. Later, after I have gotten in out of the cold, I can laugh about it. And look, the laptop still works. Victory!

PIG SWAT LAKE & Seeing Jesus Christ on a Bicycle

Before crossing the street, I look at the electronic sign for the San Jose Performing Arts Center. The instant I look at it, it says "PIG" for several seconds. Then it changes to "SWAT LAKE" for a few more seconds. By that time, I realize some light bulbs have burned out...there is no PIG SWAT LAKE performance, which I would have to go and see, if it did exist that way. What caps it is, walking across the street, I then see a man who looks exactly like Jesus Christ...with a bicycle. I try not to stare. Nothing to see here folks, just move along.

Bell Tower

I am waiting for the bell tower to ring. I swear it half-rang a second ago. So now I am waiting for the bell tower to ring. My ears are not playing games on me, I swear. The problem is, I have been waiting for the bell tower to ring, and I am now waiting too long in expectation for it to, in fact, ring. A watched pot of water never boils, wanting to get laid badly means you'll die a virgin, and the bell tower listened to will never ring. I take out a pair of binoculars and look at the goddamn bell tower, look closer, is it stopped? Are the hands moving? Should I be able to see that from here? Look, see -- the hands ARE moving. The minute hand is half way from 4.45, headed to 5.00. I wait. I wait. Then, when the minute hand crosses the ornate 12, nothing happens. Who do I call? The fire department? The mayor? Then the bell tower goes DONG DONG DONG DONG DONG.

A Ghost

In San Jose, the sun is shining strongly though a gap in the clouds. The sun shines over a wall of mist, then it is gone. I think about being a ghost, and what it would be like to haunt this building. I've worked here a long time, and now I am just visiting, like a ghost. Virtually a ghost, I go to the 9th floor, in the West Tower and see how things have changed, and how other things will always be the same. Like a ghost, it is good to be back. Like a ghost, I am now outside of normal time, free in my own limited scope. Memory is my structure, I am thought now, beyond decay or corruption.

Eating Skripes

Me, I'm good at naming things, see? Even renaming things! Cats, dogs, furniture, houses, trees, squirrels -- even people. Especially people. I got a gift -- it's a gift, I swear. Now, if you had amnesia, and you didn't know your name & you came over to my house, I could name you in a jiffy and it would fit you perfectly. I named my daughter JuJu, and my son....he's a Skeeter if you ever saw one! Look at him. I see you agree with me. I named my granddaughter Petals, and my grand nieces Pepper-Reee-Aw and Keerlee Lee-Branches. This here sofa ain't no SOFA, who came up with that name? Makes no sense. You agree, don't you? Yes? Good. This here SOFA is what I call a Boo-Wa-Large. Sit yourself down on the Boo-Wa-Large while I gets us a few Mooches from the Piner. THEN WE CAN EAT US THEM SKRIPES OVER THERE ON THE STOVE.

Poem - living in the land of leech

for Crystal Reghetti

do you recall
the land of leech
and how everybody there
big & small
spoke that strange
nonsensical language
that you made up
as we ate home-
made sausages at
the kitchen table
for breakfast?
i even joked
i'd like to go
to that place
the land of leech

it has been many
years now
but you know
more than ever
i feel like going
to the land of leech

then i realized
i am already
living there

4/96

Two Ladies

I was sleeping at the hotel. Two ladies, they were talking all night, almost to 4 AM, in a foreign language. It sounded like Russian or Polish. They weren't too loud, nor were they trying to keep the noise down, so the volume rose and fell as they sounded amused and lyrical. If I could have understood what they were saying, it would have been hell. Sometimes I head a male voice interjecting, but he was unimportant to the overall discussion. All night, sleeping and slightly waking up when he spoke, I was surprised to hear anyone else other than the babbling ladies, but I forgave him. We all put up with his interjections with good humor, he was comfortable with his ironic position as permanently being on the side-lines to the real action. Then at 5 AM, I head two kinds of snoring, one for each lady. The snoring sounded like it was in English. Sleepily, not even half out of dreams, I thought, "Amazing! They talk all night in Russian, or Polish, but then they snore in English. So sublimely strange. And even more lyrical."

Me and My Rap Song

I have this horrible rap song stuck in my head. It loops around and around certain lyrics. "Don't you want a girlfriend that is fly like me? Don't you want a girlfriend that is free like me? Don't you? Don't you?" Meanwhile, I have been writing great poetry, all of it extremely depressing, and this bothers some of my readers. I think I can find some happy poems from my notes, written about ten years ago -- they can be fixed, I think. And the rap song rolls on, the sultry fly female voice sings, "I know you want me, I know you do...I know you like me...something something something..." More music. Now I think the song is making me happy, because it won't stop.

Poem - Kepler

DESCRIBING ASTRONOMICAL STEPS
IN A GENERAL EDUCATION PHYSICS CLASS
WITH BITS OF MATHEMATICAL ABSTRACTION
ALL OVER SIMPLIFIED AND CORRECT
IN ONLY A FEW SITUATIONS

BUT MOST THINGS ARE LIKE THAT ANYWAYS

Notes: May 12:

Kepler: A true giant (non-smoker), living at the time of
Galileo, that other giant of a guy (non-smoker).
Wrote various laws on napkins/ luggage & ticket
stubs & hotel stationary:

1. Planets move in elliptical paths
around the Sun without any
pit stops, or laying eggs*

*The Mileage
Law.

2. A line drawn from the Sun to a
planet sweeps, waxes, washes,
dusts, vacuums, or
calls a maid...asks for a janitor,
or otherwise asks for the Army
to clear equal areas in equal units
of time*

*Principal of
the Cleaning Lady.

3. Harmonic Law

P<sup>2</sup> = a<sup>3</sup>

P= Pomp/ a= Average/

Amount of pomp gathered
(in astronomical units)
of consternation
or level of annoyance
by a galactic
body revolving
'round Sun of other planets
once using this formula

Philosophical idea, getting all these P' s & a's
blended together, for instance:

P<sup>2</sup> = a<sup>3</sup>

11<sup>2</sup> = 5<sup>3</sup>

(Jupiter) = (Jupiter)

121 = 125

(Grave annoyance,
a cosmic falling out;

Jupiter, far from
the Sun is a little less
annoying than Neptune

but Pluto is the worst
a virtual black-sheep
of the family)

Kepler: Oh, what a Mensch. His predictions,
not just a magical thinker, propelling us
into modern thought with his modernity

Kepler: Father, Mother, Originator, Co-conspirator,
Manager, Idealist, Thinker ---

Oh hell --

Stated with pride and simplicity, virtually
the Georgewashington of Astronomy

(P<sup>2</sup> = a<sup>3</sup>)

Kepler: Friend of Tycho Brahe and Galileo Galilei
(they took names and kicked asses), known by
Newton -- surpassing Euclid, Plato, and the fat guy
in all the restaurants with the mustachio

Kepler: The Boy-Hero, Crime Fighter, Mathematician &
Adventurer & Private-Eye

Kepler, the Unsung Poet of the Mind:

Planets
sweep out
pie-shaped
wedges
of area
during their
orbits

taking no
more than
giving in
motion

so we shade
in that area
that is
swept
out

and soon
the Planet
is a bead
on the
edge
of a black
disk

Poetry - poems written on the road

#1 boston

calls out to home
but no calls returned

people come & go
on planes alone

they leave each other
without saying goodbye

as if it was understood
how we are connected

but we do not understand
alas we do not

#2 the place

when you go to the
place and sit at
a table for two
but you hang your
coat on the other
chair

everyone in the joint
knows you're dining
alone

as far as they know
it is like that
every night

even if it isn't true

#3 sales talk

sales talk sales
jargon

i've overheard it a hundred
times or more

"she's a real worker bee"
"i gotta step up to the plate"

"love it or leave it"
"how do they treat their people -- bad."

salesmen talk this way
but they could be doing anything

eating dinner or
waiting for a flight

butchering cattle
or digging graves

#4 comfort

she sits alone in the
sushi restaurant
she looks unhappy

i am alone also
i hope i do not look
as unhappy as she does

i grab a few red napkins
write this poem and when
i look up she has her meal

though she is still alone
she feels better with her dinner
and i find comfort with my poem

Poem - this night

this night
i am in a restaurant
outside it is raining
other than that
i do not know myself
or where i am

logic dictates i
must be someone but
realistically i could be
silverware or
that glass of wine

but through thinking
i will myself to be
from the point of view
of the person sitting in
the chair enjoying a meal
arbitrary as that is

precious strangeness
remains
one thing as real as it is
unreal
meal concluded like a
life ended

table cleared and reset
with just a few
crumbs
from the last
underneath the next
diner's feet

My American Airlines Horror Story

Air travel is not what it used to be, you hear that all the time from people who have to travel frequently. Here is my airline travel horror story.

It started with an American Airline ticket for travel on Sunday, January 6, from Orange County to Chicago O'Hare, with a stopover in San Francisco. The flight was due to depart at 2.40 PM, so I called at about 10 AM to verify the flight would be on time. Mysteriously, American Airlines thought my daughter and infant son would still be traveling with me, even though I had changed the ticket & their flights for a different time a few days ago. I recorrected the information for the flight, it would just be me.

When I got to the airport at a bit before 1 PM, I saw that the line for American Airlines stretched the entire length of Terminal 1. There must have been about 300+ people waiting to check in at the American Airlines counter. Every other airline there at John Wayne Airport had a few people checking in, but American Airlines was the only carrier with a stupendously long line. I reached a ticketing agent by 2.20 PM. I explained to the agent that I could have made my flight, if not for starting at the far end of the terminal. She said that I could go on a non-stop flight to Chicago at 4.00 PM.

Ticket in hand, and luggage checked, I processed myself through security -- the line there was negligible. At the gate, when the plane arrived, we were told there was a mechanical problem with the plane. The American Airlines employee at the gate said that a part had to be sent from Los Angeles. Then, the attendant said they were not sure when the plane would be ready. Then, we were told to stand by for more information. At about 4.00 PM, we were informed our flight was completely canceled. Hotel vouchers would be provided for people who did not live in Orange County.

Another long line formed at the gate counter. Only one American Airlines employees was there to process us, so the progress was slow. Soon, three Orange County sheriffs showed up, and stood there staring at the crowd. One was on a Seqway, and as we stood there barely moving, he'd twirl around on it, showing us, I guess, how skilled & important he was. For a short time, there was another American Airline employee helping, but then after about 20 minutes she left. We'd have traded three cops and an idiotic Seqway demonstration for one extra American Airlines employee, but it was not to be.

While we stood there, because the line was moving so slowly, several people (including me) asked the woman at the gate politely if more American Airline employees could help hand out vouchers. We were all told that there were no other employees available. Absolutely no help would be coming. After about two and a half hours of standing in line, I got a hotel voucher, and a "dinner voucher" for 10 dollars. We were told that everyone on the canceled flight had been booked for a non-stop 7 AM flight the next day at the same gate, and we should keep our boarding passes. American Airlines said in the morning, there would be a special place for us to drop our luggage off, and to keep the tags on the luggage. When I checked into the hotel, I discovered the meal voucher was not redeemable at the hotel, only at the airport.

So I woke up at 4.20 AM the next day, got to the airport a bit before 5 AM and there was no one there who knew where we should be handing our luggage to. People from the canceled flight stood in the international departures line, and so American Airlines processed us there. When I got to the ticket counter, I was told that there was no 7 AM flight to Chicago. I was scheduled to depart at a 9 AM flight. The agent switched me to the earliest flight, which was a 6.45 AM. My luggage was retagged.

At the gate, waiting, at 6.20 the agent said that the plane waiting at the gate was the wrong plane, and needed to be switched with another plane. It seems that American Airlines forgot to move the broken plane from yesterday & it sat there all night. We were able to board the new plane by about 6.50 AM. Once aboard, we were informed that we would have to sit on the tarmac at John Wayne Airport for about an hour, due to President Bush landing at Chicago O'Hare. After about 30 minutes, we did take off.

Basically, the take from all of this is my time (or any other traveler's time) is not important, or valuable, in any way to American Airlines. American Airlines demonstrated quite clearly customers are trivial, treated with no more concern or feeling you'd expend on bags of luggage. Having the longest line for checking in, forcing people to stand in lines for hours for vouchers with the police in the background, denying us extra personnel to speed things up, it shows the airline doesn't give a damn how much time they waste. American Airlines could care less if you make it home on time -- and when things go wrong at the airport, there is no customer service when the public interfaces with actual airline employees.

I know there are worse travel related airline stories out there...it shows how off the mark and arrogant, or just indifferent carriers are today, post 9/11. Once they get a traveler into that controlled airport environment, they can do anything they want with you.

P.S.

A special thanks goes out to Chicago O'Hare....when I asked, there were no door-to-door shuttles to take me home. I ended up renting a Lincoln town car for $67 bucks to get me to my front door.

Poem - from HOME - a meeting

there is a
beautiful girl
walking along
cloumbus street
in north beach

by chance she
looks through
the long windows
of the cafe puccini

our eyes meet

we both almost
look away past
that polite
customary second

but we don't

and she looks
into my eyes
as she walks by
all the way

and like that
she is gone

From HOME, a collection of Poetry, Writing, Illustrations and Photographs
By CM Spaghetti

News - Fourth Collection Finished - HOME

I have completed my fourth collection of poems, short stories, and illustrations, titled "HOME" -- above is the cover. You can go to my store at CafePress and order a copy. This edition will most likely be edited a bit, but the bones are solid and the meat on the bones is good strong flesh. Pardon my bad writing. From HOME, here is a poem, titled "Weeding". I hope you enjoy it.

---------------

weeding

because i was
fired i payed rent
through weeding

grubbed pulled out
the grass and the
spiked weeds
growing in bunches
weed growing sparsely
interspaced
nestled between the
rocks and white gravel

wanted to use gloves
got gloves used gloves
handled the
soft rotting rose-heads
fallen in the shade
of the path that
ran behind the house

weeded took off
the right-hand glove
weeding thinking
about things took off
the left glove and
got a drink of water

filled the cart
full of weeds
the sun dipped down
where i thought
it would be shady
all day long but
no longer cool
at 11 o'clock

weeding along
cleared a great mess
of fallen vines with
a pitchfork twirling
them up like spaghetti

took them on the
tip of the fork
into the field
balancing the wood
shaft on my
shoulder as i
walked

i could feel
the weight of the
vines digging
into my shoulder
as the shaft bobbed
hurled them all down
in bright sunshine

vegetable matter
on top of more
vegetable matter
in the place where
we burned trash
and dead cats or
other rodents

and still
there from previous
burnings

ash
flew up with a sigh

-----------

Look in 2008, in the summer, for a "micro-book" titled "LUNA", poems to the moon, written in 1993. I need to find a publisher for it, the book being 3x3 or 4x4 inches in size.