Why do men want to be gynecologists?
I don't think I need to elaborate.
What's up with cragislist list these days? It's more entertaining than the network news. I sit at work and read craigslist, for god's sake. Casual Encounters, indeed. The fact that you can post an ad for a Chinese chick to give you a blowjob while you eat dinner (20 minutes and a whopping $100) and have someone answer that ad could only happen in America. When you're done you can peruse the same site for a real job and a set of china. I toast capitalism.
I've consumed nothing but liver and Gatorade for the past three days.
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7.16.03: I begin my day by getting shit on by a bird. The men who play chess here all day have spray bottles of water they keep handy for such occasions. Shooting starlings from the trees.
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Tomorrow porterdavis is playing as part of their Wednesday night residency at P.J. Ryan's in Somerville. There will be music, magic and more.
I don't trust magicians. They're deceitful and manipulative.
Musicians, I like.
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9.10.03:Automatic seatbelts. A sea of futons.
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In 1993 we stole checkered pants from the cook's closet of Friendly's to wear to Ska shows. We also stole peeled hard-boiled eggs from cold white buckets of water in the giant refrigerator because their consistency fascinated and revolted us.
I was the victim of a psychological experiment today when I bent down to pick up a subway token that was glued to the pavement.
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9/6/03: It's kind of vile -- the Duck Pond, having seen it empty, now smelling it full. There's more than just goose shit, you know. There's a bridge (over troubled waters) where two weddings were bound wholly in matrimony today. Little did those two white routines (ingested inaccurately) know what magic, in two words, was spray painted on the supportive cinder blocks beneath:
LOOK. HIGHER.
The Commons feel like a million years ago and while it's nice to visit, I don't know why you'd want to live here. There are roots and sand, where I sat taking two-hour lunch breaks and hour-long cigarette breaks, avoiding the mud on my shoes as you were singing to me over long-distance phone lines: "All Across the Universe…" Bah. You are no bard, my friend. I don't believe a word you sang with those unfaithful lips.
* * * *
Sometimes when it rains you can smell the ocean. Or is that just sewage on wet brick?
Blues always been.
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9.8.03: Soon enough this Public Garden will be flushed with fall, a million colors of gold. And then, clean cold winterwhite. Ahh New Year's Eve... that Boy with eyes of honey and bee-stung lips -- I wanted to kiss him sweetly on that brilliant icy night, red white and purple reflected in the ice sculptures, not yet finished. That night also mystical -- the unfinished ice sculptures spun like surprise in the cold cold night. They were a color-dappled party that nobody else could see. The sky was magenta. I was shooting black and white film. Men with chainsaws fed crystal shavings to the sky. Their sculptures loomed three stories high with no one there to see them yet -- they were abandoned and strange, only for us: hobbled horses and angels covered haphazardly in blue tarp -- a flimsy disguise that no one but us would try to uncover anyway.
* * * *
No time for poetry but exactly what it is. (Jack Kerouac)
Cinnamon is a celebration of fall, if you think about it.
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8.1.03: Last night at Toad -- at 12:01 AM -- I screamed "Happy New Year!" into the midnight August bar. Every day should be.
* * * *
Boy on elevator wearing Dinosaur Jr. shirt.
I wantonly divulge my passionate adolescent love of J.Mascis.
He shrugs.
It is his roommate's shirt.
* * * *
9.12.03: (96 bus) I wanted to feed you so badly, feed you from my fingers like a frightened animal. But snarling with your tail between your legs you limped away. Now you show up at my back door like a stray cat, mewling for milk. I've got nothing but sours for you, my friend.
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Geographically-aware marketing alert: "And you thought this bus was crowded." Ironically, the bus was empty.
It would be cool if you could tear off your leg and toss it into the ocean and have it grow another you, like a starfish can, if you think about it.
Think about it.
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