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
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to overview a suburban
deportation Progress.

The struggle manager of individual folk
pouching continental Europe
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Hocking The Caribbean for
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