tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57134432011-08-15T16:22:48.497-04:00MartyOutLoud{WWW.MARTYMCCONNELL.COM} {NEW JOURNAL: martyoutloud.livejournal.com (no www required)}M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.comBlogger2831100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-39145148708888902432009-02-05T17:23:00.002-05:002009-02-05T17:24:48.425-05:00Hello anyone trying to find Marty McConnell here.THIS is my web site.THIS is my livejournal.Hope to see you there.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-39663995896317167262007-01-10T15:40:00.001-05:002007-01-10T15:40:17.091-05:00Hello good people! Happy 2007! Here’s a quick update on where I’ll be performing for the next few weeks; hope you can make it to one or all of these great shows. There’s a slam, a crazy showcase, and a Piper Jane Project Friday night spectacular!Also, check out the great workshops louderARTS is offering this year. These are an incredible value, and an experience not to be missed. Read on!~ MondayM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1145893700982765052006-04-24T11:46:00.000-04:002006-04-24T11:48:22.453-04:00for the real deal journal, go to http://martyoutloud.livejournal.com/.TONIGHT!April 24: SEMI-FINAL POETRY SLAM FEATURING KEVIN COVAL– the author of Slingshots: A Hip-Hop Poetic, is a poet, emcee, essayist, activist and educator who has performed all over the U.S., South Africa, Jamaica,India, and Europe. He has shared a stage with Cornel West and Amiri Baraka, opened for Ani Difranco, andclosed M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1143844869288325832006-03-31T17:36:00.000-05:002006-03-31T17:41:09.320-05:00louderARTS: the reading seriescelebrates EIGHT YEARS of poetry and performanceat 13 Bar/Lounge (35 E. 13th St., Union Square)Monday, April 3, 20067 p.m.$5 ($4 for students)featuring KIMIKO HAHN and THOMAS SAYERS ELLIS…… with showcase poets including Patrick Rosal, Patricia Smith, Bassey Ikpi, Tara Betts, Carlos Andrés Gómez, Samantha Raheem, Roger Bonair-Agard, Lynne Procope, Marty McConnell, M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1142533645329679652006-03-16T13:26:00.000-05:002006-03-16T13:27:25.340-05:00still time to register, for one, two, three or all four...The louderARTS Project presents…The Death of Nice II: Going Public.a writing and performance workshop with Marty McConnellAre you ready to dig? In this workshop, we will explore the weird, the unexpected, the dangerous, and above all the thing that makes you say "I can't put THAT in the poem!" Because often, THAT is your poem. We will lookM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1141933605939116992006-03-09T14:45:00.000-05:002006-03-09T14:46:45.956-05:00M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1141318245709379142006-03-02T11:46:00.000-05:002006-03-02T11:50:45.723-05:00now, don't freak out -- I'm switching to livejournal. http://martyoutloud.livejournal.com/No real reason, except for being around a bunch of LJ folks this weekend and thinking why not. Why not? Change is good.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1141071343443990742006-02-27T15:04:00.000-05:002006-02-27T15:15:43.486-05:00Well, it's nearly officially official -- Lynne and Ram and I finished the 501(c)3 filing paperwork yesterday and we are on our way to federal nonprofit status (we're already cool with the state.)In this process I wrote the following which was WAY too detailed to include in anything going to the IRS, but for me really sums up why we do what we do. So here it is for your edification and enjoyment. M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1140552503256754322006-02-21T15:05:00.000-05:002006-02-21T15:08:23.266-05:00dream about transference as a reasonable excusethe dead pigeon against your front dooris not an omen. despite the iridescent neckin the failing light, despite the fortunecookieof its beak open as if to speak, the gypsy eyedoes not recognize you for the fraud you are.the child drifting across the street, neatlyavoiding car and garbage truck, three matchesin each hand, one on fire, is not OpheliaorM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1140212399691821812006-02-17T16:34:00.000-05:002006-02-17T16:39:59.703-05:00{next round of workshops}I'ma need to buy a laptop to do the complete planning for this. stay tuned for some sort of fundraising event!the louderARTS Project presents a Spring Workshop with Marty McConnellGetting Naked with Your Poems: exploring emotional proximity on page and stage Sundays, March 5, 12, 19, and 26, 3-6 p.m.Space is limited and pre-registration is required.$30 per workshop or M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1140028608410769902006-02-15T13:19:00.000-05:002006-02-15T13:36:48.470-05:00{two police reports in as many weeks = cringe}so given that our apartment was broken into on Friday and both our laptops stolen, along with a borrowed one -- what a bizarre feeling, knowing that someone or someones have been rummaging through your stuff and things, looking to take -- did they look at the pictures? did they already know who we were? did they watch to see when Roger left with this M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1139509466863087142006-02-09T13:11:00.000-05:002006-02-09T13:24:26.940-05:00and see, this is what happens. when I begin to memorize poems, I stop writing poems. as if there is only so much brainspace to go around and the freshly memorized words take up extra room before settling in, back with the others, filed and a little dusty.but the memorizing is good, it leads to edits that wouldn't have happened otherwise. and it's good to be able to live the poems out, to do them M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1139249761268310182006-02-06T13:11:00.000-05:002006-02-06T13:16:01.703-05:00{oh, right}because I believe in the rule of three for the most part, I was wondering when the third loss would come in -- #1 being the computer power cord, #2 being my phone -- and then I realized that #3 is my mind, lost continually over the past two weeks. always comes back, but clearly the worse for wear. so there you have it. also, I think I'm anemic.*M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1138837972745056432006-02-01T18:45:00.000-05:002006-02-01T18:52:52.756-05:00{can't win for losin'}My little household is on something of a losing streak, about one major item per week. Three weeks ago, it was Fred (our name for that little external portable drive memory stick thing). Last week, it was my laptop power cord (left by Roger, somehow, in South Carolina.) This week, it's my PHONE.And we know exactly where we last had each item. Fred we had in Lynne's apartmentM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1138639247158279742006-01-30T11:39:00.000-05:002006-01-30T11:40:47.170-05:00{I was also re-reading Li-Young Lee's "Book of My Nights" this weekend}dream about string theorydoes a man love the world lessif he drops his empty coffeecupon the floor of the G train? someonewill pick it up with the newspapersand gum wrappers and one confusedtranslucent condom she prodswith a stick and lifts with a loose graceinto the bin – what is her song, the sunjust arriving over Brooklyn?*M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1138638637407094212006-01-29T23:26:00.000-05:002006-01-30T11:41:26.330-05:00{writing in form long-hand because someone left the power cord for your computer in South Carolina is hard!}but here we are -- and kind of nifty to have all the drafts written out on paper. quaint, even. and it's not a pantoum!heretical sestina for D.{with lines/phrases from “Desire in Language: A Semiotic Approach to Literature and Art” by Julia Kristeva, Columbia University Press, 1941.}impetusM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1138131249252290332006-01-24T14:25:00.000-05:002006-01-24T14:34:09.266-05:00{this goes beyond creature of habit, I feel}So this weekend I tried to submit to the Bellevue Literary Review because I have three poems that deal with health/mental health, etc. -- and I've been a huge slacker on submissions of late. Of Late being the past 4 months or so. Anyway, it wouldn't go through from my home computer so I emailed it to myself and just now remembered to send it.Here's M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1137794056917334012006-01-20T16:41:00.000-05:002006-01-20T16:54:17.006-05:00{developments & dabblings}I went from having to work in the Bronx from 8 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. tomorrow to having to work from 8 a.m. to noonish tomorrow to not having to go at all -- almost simultaneously went from having my sister and brother in law visit this weekend to having them visit the following week to having them get screwed over by American Airlines (boo hiss for the monster airline) and M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1137713936829420502006-01-19T18:37:00.000-05:002006-01-19T18:38:56.843-05:00{I'm thinking of a new series, a companion to "lies about"}dream about third-wave feminismthere’s no daughter here, only mendead between floorboard of the upstairsand ceiling of the down, the mothput them there. still, we don’t leave.not us, not the women on the couchand the women behind, we can’tlay down, it’s clear. somethingto stand on: something obvious:it’s love, you know, a kind M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1136928825739925942006-01-10T16:31:00.000-05:002006-01-10T16:33:45.750-05:00{truth and fiction in art and non}This makes for an interesting afternoon wonderment about the nature of truth in writing and where lines get drawn when profits are on the line... would these books ever have been published if they stuck to the facts? if they were positioned as fiction, which they apparently, largely, are? how much do the lies affect the art, the craft, of what was written? JT M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1136912265754248222006-01-10T11:52:00.000-05:002006-01-10T16:36:59.336-05:00{randomosity from the evening just passed}I managed to remember the entirety of "St. Kevin of Glendalough's dead admirer to George W. Bush" and score decently with it as the sacrificial goat for last night's slam. Rockin'. I might toss my hat into the season, or at least a shoe. If it gets me to memorize, it's worth it.Faced with a drunk, rageful, flailing woman, I had two simultaneous thoughts:(M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1136911875256001402006-01-09T11:47:00.000-05:002006-01-10T11:51:15.260-05:00on looking for a sliding-scale therapist in New York Citybut it is too much to look because the thoughtof finding threatens that void vacuum taut skinfeeling, again. and this is the office, a haven ofspreadsheets and white-out and the inexplicablefour-square ball on the conference table, a chartof your four colors, primary, sometimes it helpsto count. sometimes water. sometimes a callto say M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1136582003558834182006-01-06T16:12:00.000-05:002006-01-06T16:13:23.566-05:00M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1136499348962630482006-01-05T17:14:00.000-05:002006-01-05T17:15:48.973-05:00if I am ever The Boss, I will not talk to people in the bathroom. really, give a woman a chance to pee in relative peace and fake anonymity.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1136422072960907572006-01-04T19:45:00.000-05:002006-01-04T19:47:52.973-05:00so I stayed here at the office late to work on a proposal and instead wrote a bad poem. urg. arg.on livejournal, they get to list their mood and their music. lucky.mood: stuck. stuck. stuck. stuck.music: eery 7:30 office silence.whatever.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1135010419044026212005-12-19T11:39:00.000-05:002005-12-19T11:40:19.046-05:00if you can’t mourn by dancing, what can you do?also for Peterwe fling our slight bodiesagainst the nightuntil it thrills into pieceswe can imagine your face.*M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1134778083437107392005-12-16T19:05:00.000-05:002005-12-19T11:43:53.376-05:00very rough draft, it's been a rough day.alignmentfor Peter of the Earthwhen a black man in america finishes schoolstays out of trouble, out of jail, out of prison,isn’t beaten for being gay, only harassedon the street a few hundred times, finds a butterflyin amber and keeps it for years, moves out,crazy roommate number one, insane santarianeighbor number two, moves back home, makes peacewith bothM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1134406606425266992005-12-12T11:56:00.000-05:002005-12-12T12:01:08.613-05:00the mamas and the papas had a name for the overtone that appeared when the harmonies were perfectday, the body extends, the long-billed bird resting on your chest, no threat. a windowshade open like an eye, this is the world we own, electric blanket, worn sheets, one foot, another. the mouth, a country of want, wants, satisfaction, arm across the belly, a found language the radiator speaks, all M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1134079666731599832005-12-08T17:04:00.000-05:002005-12-08T17:07:46.746-05:00{revision}ugh. love it when I creep myself out with a poem that I, ostensibly, wrote.Harvey’s songwhether coded or uncoded, is time not an objectto be dissected, splayed out across the evening news,but pre-linguistic and therefore incommunicable, a shadow,damn, is that blood or mud on your shoes, another pair ruined.to be dissected, splayed out across the evening news,such a shame, but don't you M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1133909687897808332005-12-06T17:35:00.000-05:002005-12-06T17:54:47.963-05:00OK people. For real for real, this is just about the best way I can think of to end the poetry calendar year. An amazing, generous, brilliant feature surrounded by guest poets of his choosing, and our lovely little open mic. Not to be missed if you are anywhere in the vicinity...Monday, December 12th, 7 p.m.13 Bar/Lounge, 35 East 13th Street, Union SquarePinion: A Reading to Celebrate the Quill, M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1133910740344862082005-12-05T18:11:00.000-05:002005-12-06T18:12:20.356-05:00Harvey’s songwhether coded or uncoded, is time not an objectto be dissected, splayed out across the evening news,but pre-linguistic and therefore incommunicable, a shadow,damn, is that blood on your shoes, another pair ruined.to be dissected, splayed out across the evening news,such a shame, but don't you want to be famous?damn, is that blood on your shoes, another pair ruinedfor nothing, no one M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1133482865822315672005-12-01T19:14:00.000-05:002005-12-01T19:22:08.823-05:00it's here! available from Soft Skull books, on powellsbook.com, booksense.com, Amazon.com, and most likely at a bookstore near you! ignoring the fact that there's one eensy weensy edit that I made long after the book was being compiled, it's pretty thrilling to see the poem in print. somehow I thought there would be more poetry in the anthology -- but the preponderance of stories and essays M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1133054067941524402005-11-26T20:13:00.000-05:002005-11-26T20:14:27.953-05:00on a clear day, you can see the ocean from herewhat we don't want to know about each other lengthens the day, the accord of chewing in silence, the fear or merely concern that the crease in the ear half hidden by the turtle earring could forebode something deadly, a heart dropping with the force of a brick gathering speed from an overpass, which car beneath, is it aiming, does the pavement reach M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1132350048726424972005-11-18T16:39:00.000-05:002005-11-18T16:40:48.736-05:00hey, I'm teaching a louderARTS workshop!December 18, 20053-6 p.m.The Death of "Nice" : moving beyond the expected in your poems.The successful poem MUST surprise. Beginning and seasoned writers alike tend to fall into patterns in their poetry -- the same content, the same form, the same sound -- and while those repetitions can provide us a sense of "voice" and stability, they can also box us in M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1132344908756612742005-11-18T15:11:00.000-05:002005-11-18T15:15:08.766-05:00{if you're on the lower East side Saturday...}would be great to see folks there!Saturday November 195-7 p.m.A Gathering of the Tribes Fundraiser Reading Featuring Edwin Torres, Marty McConnell and James Warnerhosted by Amy OuzoonianA Gathering of the Tribes Gallery285 E 3rd St. 2nd Fl.New York, NY 10990(212) 674-3778M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1132164482083701182005-11-16T12:58:00.000-05:002005-11-16T13:08:02.133-05:00*what I think can be hard for people to grasp is that power and privilege -- and perceived power in particular -- have so many levels of permutation that are not limited to race or gender though those absolutely play a part. and that we all have to be aware of how those play into our interactions, particularly when our goal is to build a community around art.such negotiations of space, touch, theM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1132166851887091462005-11-15T13:36:00.000-05:002005-11-16T13:47:31.940-05:00another trip to Chicago with no pictures of me and the baby... but here are some shots regardless.the Morrigan... reunited. only Heather has more hair.Roger feeding Saoirse...my mother exhibiting significant reserve by NOT asking when SHE's going to get a grandchild... M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1131311719101635432005-11-06T16:13:00.000-05:002005-11-06T16:18:39.546-05:00{revisions, of course}St. Kevin of Glendalough’s dead admirer to George W. BushHis biographers tell the story of an amorous woman who pursued him here, and St. Kevin knocked her away to her death twenty feet below. This story is disturbing, and clearly has misogynist elements. Yet, on an allegorical level, it is the story of a man who has finally learned to shun all those things which are M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1131234226185218402005-11-05T18:38:00.000-05:002005-11-05T18:43:46.196-05:00{if it's Saturday, it must be a saint}St. Kevin of Glendalough’s dead admirer to George W. BushHis biographers tell the story of an amorous woman who pursued him here, and St. Kevin knocked her away to her death twenty feet below. This story is disturbing, and clearly has misogynist elements. Yet, on an allegorical level, it is the story of a man who has finally learned to shun all those things M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1130954954585415862005-11-02T12:55:00.000-05:002005-11-02T13:42:05.633-05:00{duty & pain & guilt}so I had jury duty yesterday and madness ensued. more on that in a minute.first, if you're in NYC, I'd love to see your shining face at this show tomorrow night -- the band is awesome, and I will be... me. :)Thursday, November 3live show WITH A BAND!John Condron & The Benefit, a fantastic rock n roll trio, bookend a full feature set by Marty McConnell - backed by the band - M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1130773088167088262005-10-31T10:35:00.000-05:002005-10-31T10:38:08.180-05:00{ ... and Sunday's revision}Marguerite Porete to Hillary Rodham Clinton“Nature demands nothing which is prohibited.”from The mirror of simple annihilated souls and those who only remain in will and desire of loveoh lady, I know why you stay with him. any womanwho’d be a saint or president’s got to have a manto vouch for her, to swear it’s God speakingand not the devil – and what a womanhe made M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1130619642929594542005-10-29T16:57:00.000-04:002005-10-29T17:07:52.746-04:00{Saturday's saint}Marguerite Porete to Hillary Rodham Clinton“Nature demands nothing which is prohibited.”from The mirror of simple annihilated souls and those who only remain in will and desire of loveoh lady, I know why you stay with him. any womanwho’d be a saint or president’s got to have a manto vouch for her, to swear it’s God speakingand not the devil – and what a womanhe made you. a favorM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1130523014369648992005-10-28T14:08:00.000-04:002005-10-28T14:10:14.383-04:00{currently writing...}a proposal to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration Knowledge Dissemination Conference Grantswoooooooooooooooooooooohoo. heady stuff. is it November yet?M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1130350996532751442005-10-26T14:22:00.000-04:002005-10-26T14:23:16.540-04:00{upcoming shows & stuff}Thursday, November 3live show WITH A BAND!John Condron & The Benefit, a fantastic rock n roll trio, bookend a full feature set by Marty McConnell – backed by the band – with their own brand of Chicago rock.10 p.m.Bowery Poetry Club308 Bowerywww.bowerypoetry.com***Thursday, November 10Roger Bonair-Agard and Marty McConnellat Columbia CollegeChicago, Illinois8:30 p.m.***M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1130177149262129862005-10-24T13:48:00.000-04:002005-10-24T14:05:52.490-04:00{revision revision re-vision}if this series continues, I'm going to start getting gigs at Christian colleges. really. up next: Marguerite Porete to Hillary Rodham Clinton. or maybe Oprah.Saint Catherine of Siena to Mary-Kate Olsenwhat god stole your hunger? who demands this reductionto vertebrae? it’s a specific treason, a case worth losing,nobody can hear you with fingers or sticks between your M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1130019124684344472005-10-22T18:09:00.000-04:002005-10-22T18:12:04.693-04:00{another in the series -- or yes, I had to look online to find out which twin is anorexic}Saint Catherine of Siena to Mary-Kate Olsenwhat god stole your hunger? who demands this martyrdomof the throat? it’s a specific treason, a case worth losing,nobody can hear you with fingers or sticks between your lips,nobody loves you in the bathroom, everyone’s in the kitchenagain, this is my body, broken M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1130003216579523882005-10-22T13:46:00.000-04:002005-10-22T13:49:18.196-04:00violent blue“History is not finished yet.” – Hugo Chavezsays that the kingdom of Heaven was declared not to be of this earth means not that it is an afterlife but a time later on a time which has come, says it is time that this is that time and as he says it I nearly believe, believe history indeed is as Utah Phillips says, he says the past didn’t go anywhere, time is an enormous long river and M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1129846147290414212005-10-20T18:06:00.000-04:002005-10-20T18:09:07.296-04:00{laughing out loud at inappropriate moments in the office}I was going over a contract for a show Roger and I are doing in November at a university that shall remain nameless, and came to this:HospitalityPurchaser will provide the following at no cost to Artist* Private backstage area* On-campus promotion* Green Room Hostility Wow! Green Room Hostility, for FREE! You can't make this M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1129822874447312342005-10-19T11:38:00.000-04:002005-10-20T18:09:37.996-04:00what would happen if one woman told the truthabout her life? the world would split open.-- Muriel Rukeyser*M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1129301853837592932005-10-14T10:56:00.000-04:002005-10-14T12:34:00.513-04:00{instead of building an arc, I write a poem}really? did I REQUEST a transfer to Seattle weather? every day I think I will wake up and there will be sun. is this a hex of some sort? anyway, poem. if you don't know who Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez is, look him up.St. Oliver to President Hugo Chavezin the end, it doesn’t matter how they do it, onlythat you are ash and martyrs are easier to M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1129134249704946022005-10-12T12:21:00.000-04:002005-10-12T12:27:52.130-04:00{holy poetry, good people}* MARTÍN ESPADA to read at Acentos Bronx poetry showcase on Thursday, October 13 ** AMIRI BARAKA to read at louderMONDAYS at Bar 13 on Monday, October 17 *{note: see the end of this email for details about the Katrina relief donation drive also taking place these nights}The louderARTS Project is extremely proud to present two of the country's foremost poets, writers who M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1129057559649464222005-10-11T14:58:00.000-04:002005-10-11T15:05:59.650-04:00{some shots from Ireland or why I haven't been blogging} In Ireland, they get poems from actual factual excellent poets like Eavan Boland for their memorials, instead of turning to Hallmark. or Maya Angelou. yeah, I said it. :)holy cow. this is Knowth. 4,000-year-old burial grounds. this is the head of St. Oliver, martyred in the 1600s. everyone in Drougheda said "you must go see the head! ye M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1129063681044659522005-10-10T16:45:00.000-04:002005-10-11T16:48:01.053-04:00{unformattable, that's what you are...}see the trouble is that these prose poems are supposed to be not only justified, but justified to a specific margin, and I can't seem to do that here. do you see that? it's the world's smallest violin, playing just for me. here's a revision of the bird flu madness from a while back.re-learning to prayif panic attacks, which luckily – no – (once I did start M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1127687546684589112005-09-25T18:31:00.000-04:002005-09-25T18:32:26.693-04:00lies about suffering & joythe body departs organ by limb, a simple penance.the female buddha on fire in the tapestry’s far corner wants the thousand eyes she gave away for the background, opening, returned.the scored forearms an unlit runway, dying to leave the body a refugee shell, wedged between bookshelf and radiator. your favorite locksmith carries at all times picks the size and tenor of M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1126887037319686742005-09-16T12:07:00.000-04:002005-09-16T12:10:37.333-04:00re-learning to prayIf I were the sort to have panic attacks, which luckily I am not, (once I did start to, several times have on the train but said no very firmly very internally, interiorly, and settled into basic agitation, reasonable anxiety, which was lucky,) if I were that sort I would definitely definitely today have succumbed today on the train with the sniffling kid and the harrumphing M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1126884491026751822005-09-16T11:26:00.000-04:002005-09-16T11:28:11.030-04:00reluctanceYou can have Gertrude Stein’s brain or Cindy Crawford’s face, but not both. Which do you choose? But maybe you don’t appreciate Gertrude Stein’s writing, maybe you don’t find Cindy Crawford beautiful. Then do you choose neither, choose your own brain, your own face? But others find one brilliant, one stunning, mightn’t you be happier if people found you brilliant or stunning, mightn’t M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1126648565396934872005-09-13T17:55:00.000-04:002005-09-13T17:58:48.966-04:00{soon a new poem or something sensible. meantime...}Marty McConnell's AliasesYour movie star name: Popcorn WilliamYour fashion designer name is Marty ParisYour socialite name is Little Star New YorkYour fly girl / guy name is M McCYour detective name is Porcupine Maine WestYour barfly name is Cookies Pinot GrigioYour soap opera name is MargaretYour rock star name is Licorice MoodYour star wars M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1126204087850959062005-09-08T14:26:00.000-04:002005-09-08T14:28:07.850-04:00Suheir Hammad is hosting this hurricane relief event this Friday, September 9. I'll be reading, along with an array of others playing music, dancing, speaking and sharing space.Come through if you can:Refugees for Refugeeshosted by Suheir HammadMerriam-Webster's DictionaryRefugee: Noun.One that flees; especially: a person who flees to a foreign country or power to escape danger or M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1126203965246051852005-09-08T14:24:00.000-04:002005-09-08T14:26:05.253-04:00{because I am terrible at writing in times of overwhelming trauma and disaster but turn to others' work for the words I can't yet find}Envoy Prayerby Kate Knapp JohnsonThere’s not a corner, in all the world,without its shallow grave –mourned, unmourned, eachtucked under a shroud of grass. I knowin all the earth there’s not a plot of groundwhere someone is not quietly gatheringan arsenal, mixing M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1125672024516034632005-09-02T10:31:00.000-04:002005-09-02T10:40:24.523-04:00I know people wind up on blogs through various random searches, so with the possibility that someone will end up here who knows of or has work for a New Orleans writer stranded in Houston by hurricane Katrina --poet in need in Houston: Kalamu ya SalaamHere is news and a request from Kalamu, who managed to get out of New Orleans with his family, is safe in Houston but absolutely in need of work --M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1125351065877033502005-08-29T17:29:00.000-04:002005-08-29T17:31:05.886-04:00{revisions + additions}(1) Zipporah tells Moses to scramforget how you found us, how my sixsisters ran when the shepherds yelledthat we had no right to the water even ifour father’s flock staggered from the heat,how they gathered around my shoutingas if thirsty themselves, how you stoodbetween us, how I hated loving you for that.forget my father’s offer of me, the breadat our wedding, how you M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1125346402500622162005-08-29T16:04:00.000-04:002005-08-29T16:20:40.153-04:00{Zipporah on Sunday and more}Yesterday we had our theoretically monthly louderARTS meeting/workshop, and it was all God all the time. No really, it was bizarre. Once all the work-work stuff was done, we headed into workshop mode, and since only Abena and Matthew had actually done the exercises, we took a half hour freewrite based on these three exercises:OPTION ONE:write a poem of instruction or M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1125241518817604692005-08-28T11:04:00.000-04:002005-08-28T11:05:18.823-04:00 myth of the whole being greater than the sum of its partsthis body is a plastic bottle dense with daisies, arms packed with the unplucked, unanswering, open your eyes. the hip is a machine like any other. we acrobatic, adolescent, unhinge our jaws like bottle tops, your arms a zoo of cables, the forearms, their clutch, each ligament bundled electric, my back a knot of snakes arching their M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1124998526889239422005-08-25T15:34:00.000-04:002005-08-25T15:35:26.896-04:00hey NYC folks -- if you're up for traveling just a wee bit into Brooklyn Friday night, come by this lovely local establishment to hear some fabulous singer/songwriters as well as a couple duets Rebecca and I have been working on.good stuff! and it's FREE!10 p.m. at Stain Barwww.stainbar.com766 Grand Street, Brooklyn(L to Grand St., walk 1 block west)FREE! (2-drink minimum)Rebecca Hart, singer/M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1124824976855038502005-08-23T15:20:00.000-04:002005-08-23T15:25:04.056-04:00{this is what I do over lunch}exercise stolen from Tony Brown. holy anafora, batman!good morning, sunshine.Marty is going through a rough patchMarty is neither acid-tongued nor sensationalisticMarty is a top choice for convention planners, corporations, civic organizations, church groups and non-profit agenciesMarty is the Fairfax M. Cone Distinguished Service Professor EmeritusMarty is the main M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1124809109240458092005-08-23T10:49:00.000-04:002005-08-23T10:58:29.246-04:00{so cute it hurts}M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1124721070812535492005-08-22T10:27:00.000-04:002005-08-22T10:31:10.820-04:00{hey, that's me! in Harlem!}neato:http://www.current.tv/studio/people/JA -- look at "Aurally Spoken"details:Hey all you synonomUS lovers and lovettes,We now have a chance to take this poetry/music/dance/everything else and the kitchen sink artistic jamboree of the minds and souls we call synonymUS to the next level, on TVs in over 25 million homes. In February one of our own, Jeremiah Alexis, putM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1124571510307299832005-08-20T16:52:00.000-04:002005-08-22T11:09:08.540-04:00{I swear I am going to donate an electric fan to this place}I keep forgetting people actually read this ungodly indulgent journal. everything's fine, I just never think to post when I'm in a good mood.was hoping to write something cheerful today, got ridiculous instead, but so it goes. got a copy of Southern Poetry Review in the mail, which means I must have entered their contest last year and M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1124488439924855252005-08-19T17:53:00.000-04:002005-08-19T17:53:59.930-04:00distance your most constant companion*M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1124394326225596322005-08-18T15:44:00.000-04:002005-08-18T15:45:26.233-04:00Thursdaydream of the doors closing, metal sliding toward itself, reluctant mouth. now that it’s out, the nausea recedes. the mouth unkilns, was never fire, only at the ready. this softness, a counted blessing. things joining said to be marrying, but no wedding here, no, not everything open is a mouth. a trick of the gerund, the passive, lay it down. the dream I inherited: the last day of class, aM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1124298848303433382005-08-17T13:11:00.000-04:002005-08-17T13:18:09.986-04:00{airplane ramblings. read Li Young Lee's memoir, "the winged seed."}Augustthe self of jade and lightning is another self entirely, one who does not – cannot – apologize or waver, who does not alter when she alteration finds. Shakespeare knew her, the genius self, no conductor, all burn. the child in the airplane seat incanting come night. come night. come night reaching for the overhead light, M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1123880013871005562005-08-12T16:52:00.000-04:002005-08-12T16:53:33.876-04:00maybe it's been coming apart for monthsM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1123709071007664832005-08-10T17:24:00.000-04:002005-08-10T17:24:31.016-04:00at the bottom of a very rickety rollercoaster M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1123609673754895172005-08-09T13:43:00.000-04:002005-08-10T14:14:45.313-04:00{punishment}On Sunday night, while working on stuff for the auction (which is finally, exhaustingly, successfully, over,) I watched Evita. The musical. With Madonna. For this I am being punished by the gods by not being able to get DON'T CRY FOR ME ARGENTINA -- sung by Madonna with more pathos than anyone who's taken seven voice lessons should be able to muster -- out of my head. Once in a while M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1123528221741181862005-08-08T14:59:00.000-04:002005-08-08T15:10:21.750-04:00{revision & yay}I get to Chicago at 9:08 a.m. Saturday. Andi Noel and baby Saeorcie scoop me up from baggage claim and off to Wisconsin we go. and I don't come back until Tuesday. That means three solid days with no subway smell and no spreadsheets and no Stain bar... wonder if I'll get any writing in. I have Rachel's manuscript to look at, so I will (necessarily) be somewhat productive.lies M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1123355426795454902005-08-06T15:09:00.000-04:002005-08-06T15:10:26.800-04:00lies about midnightthe mannequin’s chipped and hollow hip echoesthe left breast, broken open to black. you wonderwhy I need you to grip me there, why your handslips inside my chest easily as a fish hook. most daysbusy keeps the falling at bay and nightly youand sleep patch the bones back to fiction, whole;what does not kill us sometimes kills us. the streakof blue in your dear, purchased M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1123283624669752152005-08-05T19:12:00.000-04:002005-08-05T19:13:44.676-04:00{another in the series of feminist pantoum which I believe to be plural all alone}Eve & me, the unsaid partwas born in the mouth, dizzy with want,nobody’s bait. the body’s a burglarized mirror,the hot source, this kiln at the ready,all this and a shoebox, leave the lid on.nobody is bait. the body’s burglarized mirrorclaims checkmate but nobody winsall this and a shoebox, leave the lid onso the M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1123188397597619022005-08-04T16:15:00.000-04:002005-08-04T16:49:21.073-04:00{bags of coins and other futilities}I've been attempting a poem-a-week minimum, and doing pretty well, particularly since I've taken up residence at Stain every Saturday and given myself hours to write. Last Saturday I went shopping instead, introducing Rebecca who despises shopping like only one other woman I've ever known, to Beacon's Closet and its many and vari-colored joys. Anyway, the pointM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1123105541329377872005-08-03T17:39:00.000-04:002005-08-03T17:50:56.703-04:00{woo hoo -- raffle plus BONUS PRIZE}Hello friends. I hope you can take a minute to glance at what we're offering as the louderARTS Project presents our First Annual Raffle -- the prizes are so great that I'm buying people raffle tickets as gifts.Any of these amazing bundles could be yours for just $5. And the more tickets you buy, the better your chance is to win! All proceeds go to support the M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1122661818351721952005-07-29T14:28:00.000-04:002005-07-29T14:30:18.363-04:00{big news in my world}M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1122397903998518832005-07-26T13:01:00.000-04:002005-07-26T13:11:44.006-04:00{we are the champions, my friends...}New addition to my list of proud accomplishments: SOCK PUPPET SLAM CHAMPION, 2005. Oh yes, indeed. Champion. My sock puppet outscored my usual slam self by an embarassingly large margin. The show would have been more fun if more of our regulars competed, I think -- folks seemed to have showed up with strange voices and skits prepared, so it did draggggg in M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1122395983769029882005-07-26T12:25:00.000-04:002005-07-26T12:40:19.400-04:00{revision, revision}lies about wantingtrain brakes are only a lament in translationand you are not going to die any morethan the digital clock will begin to tick;it’s a small comfort, but a real one. your ribcage leans out toward the baby,each bone a finger, skin a thin balloonthe mouse in your belly racing the tide,the sweet acid churning, a small oceanlean back. the child grips his mother’s M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1122309857728775492005-07-25T12:40:00.000-04:002005-07-25T12:44:17.736-04:00{only a test}they've been testing the fire alarms on my floor all morning. splendid. in related news, the last post was a test to see if anyone would point out the flaw in the pantoum. sadly, no luck. here's the correct version:pantoum for the found(or: a good feminist wouldn't watch so much Law & Order: Special Victim's Unit)flatbacked against the wall, her hands curl into birdsregistering the M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1122147193935615292005-07-23T15:28:00.000-04:002005-07-23T15:36:56.023-04:00{Saturday joy at Stain}Fully embracing my creature-of-habit-ness, I carry myself and Roger's laptop down the street to Stain the bar/coffeeshop where last Saturday I spent hours and hours and got much done, including the Joan/hooker poem. Aside from an inadequate quantity of fans and complete lack of air conditioning, it's a fabulous little spot and with a few hours and three cups of tea, poems M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1121785850430916412005-07-19T11:08:00.000-04:002005-07-19T13:37:52.156-04:00Joan of Arc to the $2,000-an-hour womanJason would be saying, “Natalia is the greatest escort in the history of the world, as good as Cleopatra or Joan of Arc,” and I’d be like, “Jason! Joan of Arc was not an escort, she was a religious martyr."-- New York Magazine, July 18, 2005at least your pimp has a name, a neckyou could put your two good hands around.he loves you like all men lovewhat they M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1121206477308136902005-07-12T18:13:00.000-04:002005-07-12T18:14:37.316-04:00lies about wanting I am an old woman, named after my mother My old man is another child that's grown old If dreams were thunder, lightning was desire This old house would have burnt down a long time agotrain brakes are only a lament in translationand you are not going to die any morethan the digital clock will begin to tick;it’s a small comfort, but a real one.your ribcage M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1121098540483828222005-07-11T12:06:00.000-04:002005-07-11T12:15:40.490-04:00Early warning system! 2005-2006 is shaping up to be a banner year for the louderMONDAYS series at Bar 13. If you're outside NYC, start planning your pilgrimages now. If you're in NYC, don't miss a Monday!A few highlights:August 15: AIMEE NETZHUKUMATATHILOctober 17: AMIRI BARAKADecember 12: MARK DOTYApril 3: KIMIKO HAHNStay tuned for updates, and check www.louderARTS.com for all the details.A M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1120587972976486542005-07-05T14:05:00.000-04:002005-07-05T14:26:13.003-04:00{greatest hits before the album comes out}so since I have no idea what happened to the originals or really any copy of the chapbook that had "instructions for a body" in it, and since thanks to its airing on Def Jam I've gotten requests for a book that contains that poem, I'm putting together a new "selected" chapbook. seems that folks have resonated to the affirming nature of the poem (chopped M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1120167509700096762005-06-30T17:32:00.000-04:002005-12-02T18:28:41.203-05:00{that's me on the corner looking confused}I get lost a lot. I also have trouble remembering what trains go where, and how to get to them from places I don't travel daily. It's not my fault; none of the women in my family have any sense of direction. My youngest sister used to keep written directions to all of her friends' houses in the glove compartment of her car; and not just their address, butM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1119975185687760752005-06-28T12:09:00.000-04:002005-06-28T12:13:05.696-04:00{yesterday was a good day. today, not so much.}lies about gratitudewhen the day starts with death-- a mouse corpse stuckto the bathroom floor -- wheredo you put breakfast, the proposalon deadline, the calculator, his nothaving calledthe hand you slammed in the limousine doorat your sister’s wedding has all but healedyou are lucky to have a left footto be stepped on by a manin the 4 train herd, M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1119892584264574662005-06-27T13:16:00.000-04:002005-06-27T13:17:49.916-04:00it's my party, I'll laugh if I want to... M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1119633734813918162005-06-24T13:20:00.000-04:002005-06-24T13:22:14.820-04:00{god is in the comma}I suppose I'd be more productive if I didn't obsess over each little poem so much. but then who would I be.lies about absencemy gods, I love a lost cause.light from downed wires, kissesbetween the elderly. tissueon a hemorrhage, flagging a cabat dawn on a wet Thursdaybring it on. mouth full of dead moths,watch me grin. a cheshire on nitrous.the lover looks like a brotheror M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1119547453596113922005-06-23T13:19:00.000-04:002005-06-23T13:24:13.603-04:00{apparently even most of my moons are in Cancer}Monday's my birthday. And that means that not only am I in NYC for my birthday for the first time ever, but I'll spend it at Bar 13. And more than that, I'll be previewing the three-woman show (working title: DAMAGE) I've been working on steadily forever with Lynne Procope and Rachel McKibbens. New poems, some multi-voice, good times!Come by if you M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1119027993900583282005-06-17T13:05:00.000-04:002005-06-17T13:07:41.543-04:00{revision, for those playing along at home}lies about absencemy gods, I love a lost cause. lightfrom downed wires, kissesbetween the elderly. tissueon a hemorrhage, flagging a cabat dawn on a wet Thursdaybring it on. a mouthful of dead moths,watch me grin. a cheshire on nitrous.the lover looks like a brotheror courier, it’s reallyneither here nor therethe jukebox song’s enoughto drive you off theM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1119018006549621612005-06-17T10:18:00.000-04:002005-06-17T10:20:06.556-04:00disconcerting to realize that what you want may be crucially interfering with what you need.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1118678733842016282005-06-13T12:02:00.000-04:002005-06-13T12:05:33.850-04:00lies about nothingmy gods, I love a lost cause. hairaround hot metal, kissesbetween the elderly. seven blocksin spike heels, flagging a cabat 3 a.m. on a rainy Saturdaybring it on. a mouthful of dead moths,watch me grin. a cheshire on nitrous.the lover looks like a brother.or vice versa, it's reallyneither here nor therethe string instruments plinkand the jukebox song'senough to drive you off theM.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1118435295079312492005-06-10T16:28:00.000-04:002005-06-10T16:31:41.410-04:00First installation (maybe last) of photos from New Orleans.check this out... "to date" M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1118435151081259702005-06-10T16:25:00.001-04:002005-06-10T16:25:51.086-04:00though Roger thought it was cheesy. M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1118435103175433082005-06-10T16:25:00.000-04:002005-06-10T16:25:03.180-04:00we couldn't resist. M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713443.post-1118434737636683092005-06-10T16:18:00.000-04:002005-06-10T16:18:57.690-04:00well, not so much with the athletics. M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/18114487143750038470noreply@blogger.com0