Monday, July 21, 2014

Freshwater Mermaids of North America - NOW IN COLOR

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Saturday, July 19, 2014

Mollusks Are Forever

Mollusks Are Forever

This poem
Is a bivalve
That transforms
Traffic altercations
Into pearls
And shit into Shinola,
All while scuttling silently
On the floors of silent seas.

This poem
Is a tough customer
That builds it’s own shelter,
Is impervious to Helen
Vendler’s criticism,
And through a quirk of nature
Has learned to go fuck itself.

But despite its hard exterior
This poem is soft-hearted
And wants nothing more than
To give your wife a pearl necklace. 
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Further Utterances of Sun Tzu

Further Utterances of Sun-Tzu

If occupying moral
High ground
Build a bamboo
Suitable for gloating
And ride it out
With Sumatran coffee
And the London Times.

If handed an inferior
Glass of wine
At a peace negotiation
Thrust it defiantly
In the host's face
Dashing all hopes of peace
As he has dashed
Your hope for a good
Then overturn the
Buffet table and rape
His wife-
A chintzy host cannot
Be trusted.

When in Rome...


When in Indiana...

And when in Tuscaloosa
Well, you know,
Stay at the beautiful
Downtown Hospitality Inn.
There are one-way mirrors
Behind the artwork
And the ice machine
Is broken,
But they gave me fifty

Bucks for the ad space.

(Sun Tzu doesn't
Actually endorse
The Hospitality Inn
Or this poem
But being dead
He's in a very
Weak tactical
So fuck him). 
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Friday, July 18, 2014



When I saw
One set of footprints
In the sand

I knew you had
Made your getaway
Sometime between Late
Night and high tide.

Assessing the depth
And gate of
Your footfalls
I also deduced
You were carrying
The Sony Trinitron
And the plaster-cast
Impression of the ass
That caused such a
Sensation at the
Renaissance Fair.

I knew then
I had been carrying
Your ass for
Way too long. 
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Faking Bad

Faking Bad

In anticipation of my
Evaluation to be declared
Non Compos Mentos
I slept under a bridge
For three days
"Getting into character,"

But on the morning of
My intake interview
My hair fell perfectly,
I mean I looked like
A fucking rock star.
College girls on the bus
Were giving me their
Numbers and my skin,
Which I'd purposely sunburnt
And caked in the finest filth,
Glowed like an Australian
Chippendale dancer named Weegie
And even the female Assisstant D.A.
Who had busted me for vagrancy
Waved her panties from
The third story building
Of the Courthouse.

No matter how much I
Tried to speak gibberish
Poetry and philosophical
Tracts spewed from my mouth.

Shuffling past the park
I beat eight
Grand Masters
At chess on move 1

Inadvertently I solved
The Phi Epsilom Theorem
By kicking stones
Into an algorythym.

When I arrived they didn't
Make me wait at all.

My caseworker giggled like
A schoolgirl while I told her
Each day was like an endless shift
In a Chinese fish- gutting
Sweatshop and every one of my fellow
Employees was motivationalist
Richard Simmons.
She ungirdled her enormous
Tits and as they spilled
Like fishguts onto the desk
She began to howl
"Fuck me, fuck me, oh fuck
Me right here in
Front of the open window
On State Street as everyone
Watches me fucking the strongest,
Healthiest, smartest, most popular,
Well-adjusted man in the world.

The rest of the examination was
Also a success.
But as I left the Mental HealthCenter
feeling marvelous
I accidentally bumped
An old woman with the door:
"Watch out you manic-depressive
Schizoid with Socially Avoidant
Features klutz." 
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The Wailing aka Murder Syndrome aka Fear aka Delrium aka Satan's Alter

I really love the compilation movie Zombiethon. Probably far more than I should, but there are sentimental reasons involved. In the late 80's and early 90's I used to rent the Wizard Video big box VHS version of Zombiethon every six months from the Dollar Video. These were the days when the video store was a destination. You got your snacks, you got an armload of videos, and maybe you didn't leave the apartment for a few days. Later I found out maybe you also had a personality disorder, but if you've got to have something, having a disorder that leads you to hole up in your dark apartment for four days eating instant Won Ton soup, drinking Tab Cola, and watching zombie movies on VHS doesn't seem like the worst thing that could happen. 

There are seven or eight zombie movies Zombiethon draws clips from. I can't name them all off hand right now. I actually probably can... Zombie Lake, A Virgin Among the Living Dead, Oasis of the Zombies, The Invisible Dead, The Alien Dead, Zombie, and the movie I'm watching tonight (if it ever loads on the Amazon player, that is) for the first time. It's called Murder Syndrome. And it's called Fear. And it's called Delirium. And it's called Satan's Alter. And ultimately they decided to title it The Wailing for worldwide English-language release. 

There's really no good reason for me to have rented it at one in the morning, but nonetheless, here we go. 

I guess seeing that box with the Wizard Video logo I'd probably like to find a copy of this on VHS. Pretty standard opening. Actor gets overwrought, tries to strangle and actress during filming of a movie, decides he needs a vacation, so retreats to an eerie family estate to relax. And it is is eerie. The actor's mother, who is supposedly dying, but still looks pretty dang good, seems really happy to see her son. Uncomfortably happy, and is terribly disappointed to see her son has brought along his girlfriend. I wonder what's going to happen. 

Methinks Anita Strindberg is a little too hot to have a strapping thirty year old actor son. But nudity to the rescue. What next? Are you going to tell me the actor's friends start showing up and putting themselves in precarious positions where they could easily be knocked off in gruesome ways by someone, or some thing, that inhabits the estate?

Listen, I'm just going to have a quick shag with Laura Gemser, you know, the chick who played one of the Emmanuels. What could go wrong? 

Ahhhhhh. Shit, I hope nobody saw that. They'll put her spleen back in, right? This is turning out to be a very bad weekend. What else could even possibly go wrong?

Son of a bitch. Listen, I'm going to go watch the final 57 minutes of this movie and have a cup of tea. If you want to know what happens, you go ahead and rent The Wailing on Amazon, or wait for Netflix to add it, which, let me look at my watch, ain't never going to happen. Seems pretty good from the bit I was able to watch between typing this and having only bar of connectivity right now. 

I lied, I'm back. Because this chick goes down the stairs, runs into the spider, decides to run through the woods, then ends up back in the basement, where these two figures are waiting for her as Bach's "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" plays. And that's pretty more than ok for two a.m. I'll let you know if anything equally that good happens in the last thirty minutes. 

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Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Freshwater Mermaid of North America

""Freshwater Mermaids of North America"  It's what I'm spending my summer working on and the show is Friday, August 1st, 2014.  These are sneak peak sketches of something I'm so obsessed with and it's so huge and awesome I'm dreaming about it.  The show is at 317 Market St. Rockford, IL and some of the prints will be available online later in the month." -Jenny Mathews

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