Poem Alasis
In the boiling teapot
leaves swirl and gurgle
themselves
into a mingle.
Vacantly gesturing
at one another,
turning the water
a vivid red.
The steam curls all pretty
against a blue wall as
The sun
all fills the room
all happy and warm.
And Relentless.
Damn,
I'm going to miss those
epic midwestern thunderstorms
in California.
the Black clouds
Roiling
between zags of electric light
The Rage.
Which raises the question:
Humingbirds or
Thunderstorms?
Milk or whisky?
As I attempt to destroy
everything around me
Camus avec Camus
flutters in my ear,
"What we risk is
what we value"
(among other rules)
I can always remember
To drink the red tea,
I brewed,
so carefully, and yet
without hesitation.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Life Changers
It's a dream come true. California. The Land of Milk and Honey. The Golden State. The West. I'm off. I got the job. I got the truck. And in June its Walter Munez, Guzman de la Guzman de la Guzman and I bumbling down route 66 eating beef jerky and smoking cat friendly cigars. I will be moving to Oakland, to teach special education in a high-need school. Whoot. It's an adventure. And man, this Chicago winter isn't doing anything but convince me to get on the Bright Side of the Bay.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Life Without Joy
Despite the somber title of this entry, I am not horrifically depressed. In fact I am not depressed at all. I just wanted to note that a Life Without Joy is as impossible as a Life Without Pain. And to that end, let's make a toast: To Life Without Absence!
Friday, January 23, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Flu vi won ka nuvie
I had the godforsaken flu this week. It was/is a completely heinous experience. Sleep is inconceivable because my body has become a hostile, terrible cell in which I am a solitary prisoner. All entertainment such as movies, tv, books, radio is a cruel mockery of the extreme apathy I currently embrace. And I am a damp, moist, sweaty, soiled, stinky, useless blob of flesh. Imagine your worst hangover ever. The morning you woke up with a penis tattoo on your forehead and a pair of shitstained shorts in the trash can. This is the Flu.
Apparently I am not alone: In one year, two flu seasons cause approximately 3 to 5 million severe cases of influenza, and up to 500,000 deaths. According to the natural order of things Influenza pandemics occur every 10 to 20 years. The Spanish know this one well as they experienced the most violent pandemic ever recorded which killed 40 to 100 million people in 1918. Ouch. Can you imagine all those people with penis tattoos waking up to each other's shitstains and sweatsoaked outlines drawn into the bedsheets, all sour mouthed and miserable?
Get Your Flu Shots People! Eat Right, Exercise! And take this moment to thank who ever it is you thank, that you do not have The Flu.
Yelp Sir!
I have been writing reviews under my cat's name on Yelp: Here is the latest:
The Old Oak Tap
2109 W Chicago Ave
Chicago, IL 60686
(773) 772-0406
2 out of 5 stars
Meh. Eh. Peh. Leh. Geh. Feh. I am so tired of overproduced restaurants in the ukivillage/bucktown area that have no sense of culture or identity. Where the food is mediocre, the waitstaff is sub par, and the decorum looks like it came out of a box set from Urban Outfitters.
It's clean, spacious, streamlined, inoffensive. This restaurant is the equivalent of a shitty romcom starring Meryl Streep. With enough money, you can pay A list celebrities to do anything. But by the time the movie is over, and the buzz from my jumbo coke with two straws is just starting to kick in, even Meryl can't stop me from busting out the YAWWWWWNN of the century.
Atlas Cafe
3028 W Armitage Ave
Chicago, IL 60647
(773) 227-0022
4 out of 5 stars
Ah. At long last. A wonderful little haven for unpretentious, undisgusting, inexpensive food in Logan Square. Not only did I want to be best friends with the waitress but the calamari was grilled. Grilled! They deliver, they have coffee flan, the Atlas is da bomb.com.
for more www.walterm.yelp.com
Some reviews are by Ben, some by Me and others by the Both Of Us.
The Old Oak Tap
2109 W Chicago Ave
Chicago, IL 60686
(773) 772-0406
2 out of 5 stars
Meh. Eh. Peh. Leh. Geh. Feh. I am so tired of overproduced restaurants in the ukivillage/bucktown area that have no sense of culture or identity. Where the food is mediocre, the waitstaff is sub par, and the decorum looks like it came out of a box set from Urban Outfitters.
It's clean, spacious, streamlined, inoffensive. This restaurant is the equivalent of a shitty romcom starring Meryl Streep. With enough money, you can pay A list celebrities to do anything. But by the time the movie is over, and the buzz from my jumbo coke with two straws is just starting to kick in, even Meryl can't stop me from busting out the YAWWWWWNN of the century.
Atlas Cafe
3028 W Armitage Ave
Chicago, IL 60647
(773) 227-0022
4 out of 5 stars
Ah. At long last. A wonderful little haven for unpretentious, undisgusting, inexpensive food in Logan Square. Not only did I want to be best friends with the waitress but the calamari was grilled. Grilled! They deliver, they have coffee flan, the Atlas is da bomb.com.
for more www.walterm.yelp.com
Some reviews are by Ben, some by Me and others by the Both Of Us.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Friday, January 2, 2009
Obsessica
I am a person of obsessive character. Always have been. Therefore I have deemed myself- Obsessica.
Top 5 current Obsessicans:
1.)The Dance of Anger: A Woman's Guide to Intimate Relationships.
Anyone (literally ANYONE) I've talked to about any remotely emotional issue has fallen prey to my Hail Mary's for this book. All my closest friends have their Dance of Anger eye rolling routine down to a T and honestly it does nothing to stop me from toting, promoting, and quoting the hell out this book. It has, for a lack of better expression, Changed my life. Okay so, no one thing can change life- besides death! (ha) but it has definitely been a catalyst for creating change and I recommend it to EVERYONE, male and female. In a nutshell,it's all about breaking relationship patterns, taking responsibility for yourself, and being able to use your anger as a tool. It's better than Catcher in the Rye. I would shamelessly sell it to a blind grandmother with dementia, along with a set of Cutco knives and a marshmallow shooter from Sky Mall.
2.) Walter Munez (Meownez) and Guzman De La Guzman De La Guzman
These are my cats. There's nothing more to say. Yadda Yadda crazy cat lady yadda yadda. Get over it. I love my pets.
3.) Photoshop
Last night, amidst dreaming of erotically washing blue paint off of Christian Bale's leg, I had a vision of a photoshopped postcard that included Two Circles, one black, the other white, and a small black child in between them. This dream could have many meanings.
One- I am having some kind of cultural identity crisis.
Two- I'm in love with Christian Bale and he loves me and I should be expecting this exact postcard to arrive any day now.
Three- I'm obsessicad with Photoshop and I can't stop and I need to find a way to make money through photoshopping pictures of my boyfriend and I in various exotic locations, or I will surely become undone.
4.) List Making
Hence this post. Hence my life. Obsessican #4 Check!
5.) This American Life
I no longer tell stories of my own. What's the point? I did not kill someone accidentally as a teenager, adopt a dissociative child from Eastern Europe, survive a tornado on prom night, hide the exorbitant amount of money I made off of selling bullets to locals in random household items only to sell the items in a garage sale, whisper into an elementary child's ear "Knock it the fuck off you little shit," lie to an internet scammer that his mother was dead after sending him on a wild goose chase to the border of Darfur, want to spend $120 on a deformed red headed baby doll named Nubbins in order to save it from a spoiled child with a racist mother. I did not do any of these things. I could talk about my trip to Walgreens last night. But the one about the guy who started hand sewing highly accurate Superman costumes that he wears on a regular basis after his wife died- is so much better.
Top 5 current Obsessicans:
1.)The Dance of Anger: A Woman's Guide to Intimate Relationships.
Anyone (literally ANYONE) I've talked to about any remotely emotional issue has fallen prey to my Hail Mary's for this book. All my closest friends have their Dance of Anger eye rolling routine down to a T and honestly it does nothing to stop me from toting, promoting, and quoting the hell out this book. It has, for a lack of better expression, Changed my life. Okay so, no one thing can change life- besides death! (ha) but it has definitely been a catalyst for creating change and I recommend it to EVERYONE, male and female. In a nutshell,it's all about breaking relationship patterns, taking responsibility for yourself, and being able to use your anger as a tool. It's better than Catcher in the Rye. I would shamelessly sell it to a blind grandmother with dementia, along with a set of Cutco knives and a marshmallow shooter from Sky Mall.
2.) Walter Munez (Meownez) and Guzman De La Guzman De La Guzman
These are my cats. There's nothing more to say. Yadda Yadda crazy cat lady yadda yadda. Get over it. I love my pets.
3.) Photoshop
Last night, amidst dreaming of erotically washing blue paint off of Christian Bale's leg, I had a vision of a photoshopped postcard that included Two Circles, one black, the other white, and a small black child in between them. This dream could have many meanings.
One- I am having some kind of cultural identity crisis.
Two- I'm in love with Christian Bale and he loves me and I should be expecting this exact postcard to arrive any day now.
Three- I'm obsessicad with Photoshop and I can't stop and I need to find a way to make money through photoshopping pictures of my boyfriend and I in various exotic locations, or I will surely become undone.
4.) List Making
Hence this post. Hence my life. Obsessican #4 Check!
5.) This American Life
I no longer tell stories of my own. What's the point? I did not kill someone accidentally as a teenager, adopt a dissociative child from Eastern Europe, survive a tornado on prom night, hide the exorbitant amount of money I made off of selling bullets to locals in random household items only to sell the items in a garage sale, whisper into an elementary child's ear "Knock it the fuck off you little shit," lie to an internet scammer that his mother was dead after sending him on a wild goose chase to the border of Darfur, want to spend $120 on a deformed red headed baby doll named Nubbins in order to save it from a spoiled child with a racist mother. I did not do any of these things. I could talk about my trip to Walgreens last night. But the one about the guy who started hand sewing highly accurate Superman costumes that he wears on a regular basis after his wife died- is so much better.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
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