internet question 1.

what generation are you from?

     well,

     i get three lines down spacing a four space margin

     before i remember to tab.

     also i am writing in evernote -

          which is much more of a diligent journal 

          than anything i ever managed to keep 

          and it does it by itself 

          because i'm living in the future 

          that tells me

     which tells me

     the last date that i wrote down an idea

     was the last time i was stoned

     and i get depressed

     thinking about the future

          not "the future" that we imagine

          right now because by our standards 

          a microbee is prehistoric

          but "the future" that might have been dreamt

          by a Persian -

     but still, even in our the future

     i think i'll always like to live in places where

     if i comb my hair a beetle might fall out.

     and, 

     i'm able to use my underated expertise in     

     computational navigation

     to hyperlink a word,

     but i also learn that here it's just called a "link"

     like all the kids say

     presumably.

          does that make me sound old?

     so,

     what i mean to say is, 

     generation of what?

that is much too heavy!

i seized your bag at the station
and tore out pancreas items -
snake bait, raincoat, Roget,
i spared no nerve-wracked safety.

"that's better!" i grinned,
"now you're light as a feather!"

i was certain as a Modernist
i was certain as a boy king
i was certain as a title card,
surrounded by mugging

but you read lips not speech
and mine were gone
as the train pulled out
it was me on board -

waving, breaking
half ready to be making
a james bond manoeuvre but
still only half ready
only half ready
only half
ready
only
half and so
no, no heroics.

i saw your shrinking face
pan up to watch as clouds arose,
and sadly there, together,
we watched the circle close.

there's been some mistake

             at my psychic birthday party

tarot cards      spread outward

                                                 like delinquents

                                                 lying about
     how I "made them do it"

                      and              
                        even though
                                          it's     not me   it's

           socio-economic factors etc. etc.,

I get sent to the office.

the office is empty.        
surprise!

   the PTA want me         to be         the principal.

              but        
         all those           kids!
(are        assholes!)

              and anyway I'm too young.

                                                          right??

             if you google my age
             a  lot of the results are porn,

             so                that makes me an adult
             I guess. 

                                but I also still wear
                                hooded jumpers
                                                                 a lot.

             so I turn down the job,

shuffle and deal again.

How To Become a Cat Person

You are looking into the eyes of your cat while she purrs on your lap, and you somehow feel that she's trying to communicate with you. Maybe telepathically - maybe animals can do that. You listened to that radiolab episode about animal minds and it basically suggested that we don't have a fucking clue about what happens inside there, so a cat might as well be telepathic. You feel like she's saying,

"yes, i know you can hear me. I wasn't sure if you could understand me before but now I think we're getting somewhere."

You're communing with an animal, incredibly, and it's only happening because you're having the most amazing cuddle time ever. She raises her neck in a certain way as to say, 

"here, can you just rub me a little here on my cheek?" 

But what she means is that basically what she would like for you to do is smush her cute face around. So you smush her cute face around. She loves it, and so do you. You start comparing the fact that she just wants to be near things that are warm and fleshy to your own desire to be close to things that are warm and fleshy, and you think, maybe people don't really want to cheat on their wives, really they just want the cute parts of their faces to be smushed around and to curl up in something all around them. But as soon as your cat feels that you have taken the cuddle-communication too far into the realms of intellectual abstraction, she starts to ignore you, muttering,

"I knew you weren't ready."

You want to reassure her that no, you shouldn't have doubted her, and you want to keep the channel of telepathy open, so you start babbling about how your friend last night was telling bad jokes about cats so you then said "stop your animaligning", but she cuts you off -

"That's not a very good animal joke either. Why are you making jokes about animals in the first place? But if you are, why not 'that's a cat-astrophe!' "

"Oh because that is quite common."

"Ohh? I've never heard it before. I think it's a very good joke. Especially if you were to develop a system among your friends in which the worst jokes about animals were awarded with a cat arse. You know, like a cat arse trophy."

"That's quite a build up for just that one joke."

"But it would be the best!" she telepaths emphatically, and her huge cute eyes swell with conviction.

"You're right," you mindbeam, "we'll put it on the internet". And you do. 

Turn Around

my response to your shrinking lights

was a vehicular jolt

and film criminal instinct

for a high speed chase.

but you turned around smiling,

and i think 

i'd die sad otherwise,

in a forty-two car pile up

miles from home.

you pull me over 

like a woollen blanket now

and your world is a bed

that i want to wake up in forever. 

when old people stare

i just want to kiss you,

and for someone to play The Beatles

"Do It In The Road" over phone speakers,

but not in a fucked up way

like usual.

like last week,

i would have smashed that guy's windscreen

and his headlights

to make him apologise.

but instead i turned around smiling,
because i think 

i'd die sad otherwise,

in a forty-two car pile up

miles from you.

View Sauce

If you didn't want me to leave my wife then why would you have those photos of yourself in sexy lingerie all over your page.

What? No, i don't care if you didn't know how to change your privacy settings. I SAW THEM AND NOW I HAVE NO WIFE.

Now what are you going to do about it, Chenille19!

Vulture Fund

Spam Poem

Enjoy night potency,
Intimate like a god of love
who parts from
the loaded summits
of national theory
to overview a suburban
deportation Progress.

The struggle manager of individual folk
pouching continental Europe
with the antimilitarist storyline.
Hocking The Caribbean for
Federal increases in
Earl soccer.

Auto Setting

Season

In summer

I am sandwiched

between sweetnesses of incongruous flavour.

These girls are wholesome and seductive.

They clash, they clash,

I am macaruined.

Hard Sell

sure, there are flaws

in the market system.

but in a pastoral utopia,

could you cure famine

just by moisturising?

Oh Buoy

moments of civilisation
peek out of the sand

and mental maps amend
for makeshift paths of
flattened grass

take note of
patterned shell arrangements,
weathered glass,

the coals of teenage experience
and picnic relics:

paper plates and
olive pips
schnitzeled
in mammal ancestors

six hundred million

generations past.

a wave peeks back
and curls into the shore
like a century,
pushing on the corners
of everything -

oh buoy,
it’s effortless.

Search

Watch
Future
Online Free
Future
Megavideo. Watch
Future
Streaming 2011 Divx
Future
or Straming Full Length
Future

lethargy


i need to work more, of course
and make it to at least outside the head.
but it’s hard to ignore thoughts about

what it’s all for, especially when

what’s par for the course
is pretty fast for the horse
and the praise always only comes after the scores.

one things is for sure,
looking at a scale of things deduced to be important;
if you’re going to

write a poem about this
you should at least be remembering to
take your supplements.

(this is how i was feeling a while ago, i am doing lots of things now actually)

Here is a poem about magic.

We do a lotta cool shit.

Did you know that most of my friends could tell you what “mana” is?

It is because they are amazing.

wow i just tried to write a normal blog post and i am not capable of it anymore. the moral of the story is that things are really great right now, today was outstanding.

Grove expectations was last night, i read this.

Gums.

In this dream I pull out my own gums only to realise that they’ve already absorbed the drugs and are now infecting everything in contact. I squeeze my mouth tightly in my hand, and I feel my fingers throb with the pressure.

In this dream I squeeze harder, trying to crush it, until I hear a feedback screeching and it occurrs to me that this fist of compressed touch centres was never meant to be. Things were meant to be more difficult, probably. For example, this, my gum-crushing grip was once for tree-climbing while running from lions.

But then again, Dawkins taught me that the basic impulse of life as we know it is to seek and maintain stability. So i don’t know how I ever expected to not be on the couch watching 30 Rock.

In this dream it is only when I discover that my gradual gumless vegetation will result in some grave indecency that action occurs. Something like where my idle brain is hijacked and used to power smartphones or mastermind terrorist attacks, provokes me to buy one of those old nokias on ebay for a dollar, and use it to exercise justice, for instance taking down the government, and the head of the government is Angelina Jolie.

In this dream I compress my gums into the ebayed nokia coffin, which contains the screeching, and i use it to interrupt the signal for the wireless stunt equipment being used by the government agents. Angelina Jolie can’t get these fucking robotic action arms to settle down, and eventually they tear the fabric of the dream apart.

In the end of this dream my nokia explodes and my drug gums absorb everything, before finally filming over. Overdue feelings of winter tremble a little on the crust, but everything inside is stable.

for the record.

your head lowered, eyes looking up.
it feels like they see everything and
sometimes I am
suspicious that you are otherworldly.
just in case:
i would love for you to have cool powers,
we would not have to break up.

getting old

old like feature walls will be
old like wallpaper,
brown houses
and caves.
old like Boney M will be
old like Cary Grant,
jesters
and Saul of Tarsus.
old like before Bond defeated terrorism
with an Ericson K800 will be
old like the excitement of home printing
and gyroscopes.
old like Pokemon Red will be
old like Pacman,
Mouse Trap
and Tutankhamen parcheesi.
old like H1N1 will be
old like H5N1,
asbestosis
and locusts.
old like my parents will be
old like my grandparents,
their grandparents,
and theirs
when the family rocket comes out
when China takes over,
super volcanoes erupt
and people live forever.

Condensation

There are people who know about meaning.
Their optimism breathes with belief,
revealing all the pictures I drew as a kid
on the glass in the back seat;
those marks that framed the
static-y, speed-fractured outside scene.
I knew back then how to deal with blankness.
Before it thickened and
my eyes blurred out the foreground.
Before I gave in to gazing at miles

of wasteland, dried rivers and rusted machines.
Before I felt the pressing down of a white sky

as it slowly hammocks with rain.

But there are people who know better

than to be absorbed by this

heavy nothing.

A primary school aged child could tell you,

this is condensation.

You have to draw something into it.

.... i think this is the most obtuse my writing has ever been. maybe it makes some sense? i hope so.

news:

i went to grove tonight. it was wonderful.

i am drawing all sorts of things right now.

Signal

I felt the morse code
of a
jittering love
on my fingertip;
messages urgent,
with spikes in the reading.
When my hands are still,
moored warships
pulse a distant
paroxysmal sad,

but

this feint needle can bear no weight
on the scales
of fibre-optic
you.