Tuesday, July 19, 2016

I Have Groat's Disease, But It Doesn't Have Me

It is an entirely fictional disease that has been fabricated in the script of HBO's Emmy nominated show, "Curb Your Enthusiasm." Groat's Syndrome, also known as Groat's Disease, is a neurological disorder, marked by excessive hyperactivity and spasticity.

I disagree that it is a fictional disease, because I know many Americans that suffer from Groats and may not even know it.

I went to Arkansas once to visit my cousin and my cousin Robert said I bet you can't say "Fruit froat" five times in a row and I tried and I ended up saying "fruit fart" and he thought that was the funniest thing. I was funny the whole weekend as they had some sort of Arkansas plumbing and when someone went to the bathroom the turds would float down a cement channel to the creek, and we'd stand there and laugh. I then fell into that creek a few hours later when a rope broke. That's about all I remember from that trip.

I was in Arkansas again a few weeks ago on my way to and out of Louisiana. 

Groat's Disease is serious business.  Pin It

Monday, July 18, 2016

For Lovers of Chaos, It's a Win Either Way

Watching Chachi Arcola speak I have one response: I hope Trump wins, and I hope they take away your video games and pornography, because that's all you seem to care about, and it shouldn't be just us who are capable of caring about decency, truth, and goodness that always have to lose what we care about. Don't vote, or better yet, vote against Hillary Clinton because you're guy didn't win. It's all entertaining to me. I love chaos. I love it when you shoot and strangle each other in the streets, wipe your ass with the ancient tomes of wisdom, and get farther and farther away from any semblance of even being human. 

It's lovely.

I love to turn on the news and not be bored. See you all driving into each other and your faces twisted in anger as if you believe you deserve something better than this hell of a culture you created in the first place. 

You're some ugly and stupid people, do you know that? 

Either way, we're never, ever returning to a time and place where humanity is in a place of infinite progress, so I say pull up a lawn chair and enjoy the show. 




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Friday, July 15, 2016

Twin Peaks: Outsider Poetry Walk With Me

I have never been a big fan of David Lynch. It's not that I don't get it, I just think there's not as much there to get as other people do. Sort of like the band Rush. Doesn't seem that deep to me.

That said, last night I watched the pilot episode, and tonight I'm going to watch the last two episodes. But I already read several commentaries about what happened, and what it meant. Most reasonable critics agree if you're looking for answers you won't be getting any.

I like this guy who looks like the ghoul from Carnival of souls, but in my assessment David Lynch is in that class of sick fucks who like to portray the cruelty of humanity simply because he gets off on it, and wants to cloak that perversion in the aegis that he's simply holding a mirror up to the darker corners of our souls. That pig who made the movie Kids, Todd Solendz, and Harmony Korine fall in this category. 

We live in a world where people drive trucks over 83 people in France, and these incidents have become an almost daily occurance, but David Lynch is breaking new ground by telling there is darkness and perversion in the human soul. Like we didn't know that, dumbfuck. Like we're not surrounded by it. No, I really don't believe he's trying to enlighten us to our true nature, I think he just likes soaking in the perversion and darkness. 

Also, the characters just aren't that interesting. The supposed streak of dark humor just isn't funny. 

Nonetheless, I feel like giving it a chance. Seems a little like when I unwittingly watched a few minutes of the Tim Burton Dark Shadows remake. Was it supposed to be funny? Scary? I'd prefer if Lynch had just gone for the creep factor here, because it seems natural to him, but he doesn't seem as funny as he thinks he is. If he'd just done what he does best, this would be more entertaining, and it seems like cruelty, sexual perversion, and pedophilia are his thing. 




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Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Why I Quit Poetry For Social Media

My Space was a game changer for me socially. It has been about twelve years since My Space, and I lead a completely different life. Better, richer, fuller. It's hard for me to separate the advent of social media from being the General Manager of my own bar. Almost everything changed for me. 

Then everyone left My Space for Facebook. At first I lamented the loss of My Space. I remembered it fondly. And. twelve years later I can say I made friends there that are friends to this day. I vowed Facebook would be the last stop. If everyone suddenly got up and left, like My Space, I wouldn't follow. And I still feel that way. Most of the people I know on Facebook I see in real life, too.

For a while I tried leaving social media because I believed it was destroying my writing, and it's true, I did write a little more. It now seems strange to me, even impossible to sever my social media ties with my friends ever again. It's just how I communicate with them for the most part.

So, in essence, I quit poetry and chose my social media life over the monastic life of a writer. My social life is more important and more nourishing to me than poetry. 

Can I do both? Not as well as I like. There may be multiple reasons why I can't write like I used to. Maybe I have said most of what I have to say. Maybe the more immediate reinforcement of social media has distracted me. 

But do I miss it?

Not as much as I feel I should. I love having written the books and poems I have written, and I have written some lately, but not with much force or conviction. 

Jenny made a chicken soup and I have some in the refrigerator, and I really want to eat it tonight, but I also want to have it for tomorrow.

Jack did a painting today with the pains, brushes, and canvases he got for his birthday. He painted a zombie. 

Yay. Pin It

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

What I'd Rather Be Doing Than Outlaw Poetry

Basically anything right now. All hell has broken loose in the Universe, in America, and in my corner of the Universe.

We spent part of the weekend at the Renaissance Fair in Kenosha. Seemed like a reasonable distraction from all the insanity. I had a real bummer of a headache all weekend.Now that it's a new week it's back to war with the bureaucracy and decay in general.

The Rockford poetry train is leaving the station without me. But I really feel like I need to guard my free time ferociously. What I have of it.

Yesterday was sweltering, and we went on a Pokemon hunt in the afternoon, then again after it got dark. The bike path was crawling with people. Jack fell asleep in the wagon, but woke up as soon as we got home. Then everyone was up late again.

Just finished a nice torrent of work while waiting for a poet to show up for a pre-production meeting, then I did a workout with my Gold's Gym exercise band. Now I'm waiting for chicken soup with liver to be ready. Then maybe a walk with my guys if the poet is a no show. No one has wanted to go to bed lately, but if they do I might watch something crappy online.

Posted a long piece by Brett Petersen at Outsider Poetry  and some fine pieces by Alan Britt at Zombie Logic Review. No word from the poet, so I might try and sneak in my cardio workout. I hope I didn't give him a bad phone number. I'm not sure what my phone number is without looking it up.

After this a lot of blogs still to work on tonight, then tomorrow me and Jenny have dinner with the head of the local Arts Council. I might consider applying for a grant. I'd hate to have to explain what my mission statement is. To publish poetry. I've been doing it Twenty years, so I guess I take it semi-seriously. But it would be nice not to do it anymore tonight.


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Thursday, July 7, 2016

Garbage Night In Rockford

With the grim news earlier in the week that police had discovered a body decomposing in a garbage can on Market Street, today's scuttlebutt that the remains had possibly been there for years gives new meaning to garbage night tonight. Jenny and I started dragging the cans to the curb last night then realized it was a garbage holiday because of the Fourth of July. 

Zombie Logic Press headquarters is a block away from the scene of the grisly discovery. Makes me feel glad I never won any of my races for Winnebago County Coroner.

Grateful that I never beat Sue Fiduccia in any of those times I ran for Winnebago County Coroner. I think I first ran for Winnebago County Coroner in 2004, but I can't remember. I decided not to run anymore now that Sue Fiduccia has retired. 

I have had two people contact me about poetry projects this week. But this week is about Jack's sixth birthday. I bought him a Super Nintendo with Super Mario Kart and the Five Nights at Freddys plushy dolls.  Pin It

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

How I Pulled a Muscle In my Diaphragm Writing Outsider Poetry

I pulled a muscle in my diaphragm last night finishing a poem about outsider poet Jesus Correa. Hammered out an acceptable draft around 2:30 a.m., then posted it to the Rockford Pages blog. 

After that I realized I was in pain. A weak thunderstorm had rolled through the area, and it was more bluster than action, but it was nice to have anything to cut the stifling humidity and heat that had collected in the apartment. 

Then I realized I don't even remember where the garbage dumpster was when I moved into this building. My documentation of my entire life is contained mostly in an organ that will soon explode, literally. Bummer. 


I think in this picture, the only one I ever took from this window, it is down by deli Italia. I don't remember walking down there to toss my garbage, but there it is. I think what I've circled to the left is a dumpster there for what has become the automobile museum. Funny to think a more diligent and forward looking artist might have documented this small space at least casually, but I did nothing. No one else in the Universe had that view, or was responsible for documenting it, except me, and I didn't.

But today my chores are simple and straightforward. Buy a Super Nintendo Mario Kart game, put some books in the mail, go to the post office, do a cardio workout, write a few blogs, pay some bills, and hopefully do a resistance workout.

Today they found a human body in a garbage can over one street on six block. I walk by there on occasion on my way to the post office, and unlike most people who feign surprise, I always felt like something untoward was going on behind the blackout curtains. I have seen the people out in front of the building grilling some times, and I always thought these just look like bad people capable of just about anything. 

Of course I feel that way about everyone.





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