"The thing is--"
"The thing is--"
"We love women."
"Love them."
"Our wives are women."
"Our mothers were women."
"There was a good chance we could have been women."
"Fifty fifty."
"Wellllll seventy thirty."
"What we're saying is, that we feel, as men--"
"We feel we have the right to have an opinion regarding women and their bodies."
"Specifically their reproductive systems."
"After all, men come from those systems."
"We're born out of those...places."
"And so there's no reason we can't have an intelligent discussion about, you know, down there."
"And all we want to say is that...down there...is a sacred place."
"It's holy. Like a football stadium."
"Or a Home Depot."
"And we think we should be teaching young girls that you have to treat...down there...with the utmost respect."
"And you don't do that by letting boys...put their...down there...near your...down there."
"Unless you're married to that boy."
"And unless you plan on having a child. Preferably a boy."
"Well, not preferably, but--"
"Not necessarily, but--"
"If it happens to be a boy, there's always a few extra cigars to pass around, so why not, right?"
"My wife gave me six beautiful boys, and I only had to disown one of them for being gay. I call that a successful family unit."
"My wife and I have decided not to have children until we figure out whether our Colombian maid's two-year-old is really mine or not. Odds are it's not."
"It does look a little like--"
"Steve, please."
"Sorry."
"The point is, we love women."
"Love them."
"And respect them."
"So much respect."
"Why else would we allow them to stay home and lounge all day while we're out doing actual work? You'd only do that for someone you love."
"Why else would we carry the burden of holding all the intellect in a marriage in the palm of our hands like a tiny baby bird?"
"Why else would we reserve our most violent lovemaking urges for our mistresses and high-priced call girls?"
"That's love."
"And the way we love and respect women, women need to love and respect themselves."
"And you respect something by not using it frivolously. Down there is not a place for fun. The same way church isn't a place for fun. You don't go letting just anybody into church, do you?"
"Well, you--never mind."
"You only let priests into church. The same way you only let boys down there who you want to have babies with. So basically, you want to have babies with priests."
"Actually, that's not at all what we're saying and please disregard what my friend here just said."
"You'll have to excuse me. I'm on a lot of drugs, but they're expensive drugs, so it's totally fine and you're not allowed to judge me for using them. Hahaha."
"Hahaha."
"Hahaha."
"Ha. Ha. Ha."
"The point is--we adore women."
"We worship them."
"And so long as they don't act like harloting jezebels, we plan on doing everything we can for them."
"But sometimes you have to help people who are weaker than you from giving into temptation."
"And women are the weaker sex. It says so in the Constitution."
"And the Bill of Rights."
"And the Magna Carta."
"So we make laws to help the women help themselves."
"Just simple little guidelines to stop women from turning into filthy prostitutes like Susan B. Anthony and Joan Didion."
"For example, we believe if a woman tries to have an abortion, she should absolutely be allowed to."
"Provided she undergoes some procedures first to ensure she feels she's making the right decision."
"All she'd have to do is fill out some paperwork, speak to a therapist, take a lie detector test, show us photos of every man she's ever slept with, pull a cart full of stones up a hill, stay underwater for seven minutes, hold at least seventeen babies, watch Baby Boom starring Diane Keaton, kill an animal with her bare hands, and then recite the King James Bible from cover-to-cover."
"Once she does all that, if she still wants to have the abortion, then we say, go right ahead."
"Go right ahead."
"Go right ahead, you minion of the devil."
"We respect your choice."
"And if your boss wants to fire you because he disagrees with what you've done, that's his choice."
"And if your health insurance carrier wants to drop you because they think you're a bad person, that's their choice."
"And if your husband wants to take you to the town square and stone you, well hey, that's what they do in the Middle East, and those people have oil, and oil is good, and good sounds like God, and God I'd love a burger and a shotgun right now. Am I alone in this?"
"We need these laws, folks. It's the only thing that separates us from the animals."
"I hear that if a female rabbit cheats on her rabbit husband, the rabbit husband throws her into the mouth of a wolf."
"Well, that sounds totally fabricated, but I see where you're going with it, and you know what? I'm going to say I like your point, and shake your hand."
"Why, thank you. And by the way, we'd both like to extend a happy anniversary to our respective partners who stand by us in protecting families and living a pious, moral life."
"So thank you to my fourth wife of two months. And also, happy nineteenth birthday."
"And thank you to my eighth wife of four months. I'm so glad you decided to get your breasts, lips, and eyes done. And in six months when the swelling goes down, I'm finally going to love you just the way you are."
"And in a few decades, with these laws, we'll have a world full of lovely, pristine, virginal ladies."
"And hopefully one or two women will resist and stay whores so we have someone to lust after."
"We'll pray on that."
"We'll pray hard."
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
Where Have You Been?
Where have I been?
You wanna know where I've been?
I've been missing things
Missing weddings
Missing vacations
Missing birthday parties
So I could be working
Because I thought
That was the idea
I thought the idea
Was to work
Did nobody give you the hungry speech?
How everybody's hungry
And wants this
And wants it so much more than you can ever even understand
No matter how bad
You think
You want it?
Did nobody tell you
That there are people out there
Who are willing
To cut off their own arms
Just to have a tenth of the success
That, realistically, you and I will never have
I've been out there
Trying to beat those people
Trying to keep up with those people
While you've been settling in
While you've been getting engaged
Getting married
Having kids
Forgetting, apparently
What it is you wanted to do
What it is you said you loved
I've been busting my ass
And busting everyone else's too
To keep this thing that I have
That I've been dreaming about my whole life
Intact, okay?
That's where I've been
You think you can dabble in this?
You think this is something
You can just have as a hobby?
How did you get so far off-track?
How did you wake up one day
And find that your whole life was totally off the rails
And not just blow your fucking brains out
Two seconds later?
You made a deal with yourself
And then you broke the deal
I'd betray every person on this planet
Before I'd betray myself
Before I'd say that what I loved
Was worth putting aside
Just so I could get married
And create kids
And tell them, Yeah follow your dream
Even though I gave mine up
To have you
If I have kids
I don't want the best thing they ever do
To be making more kids
But fuck, that's just me
That's just where I've been
Since you asked
Since you wanted to know
Now what about you
Where have you been?
I feel like I haven't seen you
In forever
You wanna know where I've been?
I've been missing things
Missing weddings
Missing vacations
Missing birthday parties
So I could be working
Because I thought
That was the idea
I thought the idea
Was to work
Did nobody give you the hungry speech?
How everybody's hungry
And wants this
And wants it so much more than you can ever even understand
No matter how bad
You think
You want it?
Did nobody tell you
That there are people out there
Who are willing
To cut off their own arms
Just to have a tenth of the success
That, realistically, you and I will never have
I've been out there
Trying to beat those people
Trying to keep up with those people
While you've been settling in
While you've been getting engaged
Getting married
Having kids
Forgetting, apparently
What it is you wanted to do
What it is you said you loved
I've been busting my ass
And busting everyone else's too
To keep this thing that I have
That I've been dreaming about my whole life
Intact, okay?
That's where I've been
You think you can dabble in this?
You think this is something
You can just have as a hobby?
How did you get so far off-track?
How did you wake up one day
And find that your whole life was totally off the rails
And not just blow your fucking brains out
Two seconds later?
You made a deal with yourself
And then you broke the deal
I'd betray every person on this planet
Before I'd betray myself
Before I'd say that what I loved
Was worth putting aside
Just so I could get married
And create kids
And tell them, Yeah follow your dream
Even though I gave mine up
To have you
If I have kids
I don't want the best thing they ever do
To be making more kids
But fuck, that's just me
That's just where I've been
Since you asked
Since you wanted to know
Now what about you
Where have you been?
I feel like I haven't seen you
In forever
Along a Road in Africa
Along a road in Africa
There's grey blood
And a jeep, idle
Waiting for the driver
To get back inside
Wipe the sweat off your brow
You're thirsty now, aren't you?
Put the shovel down
And let whoever finds it
Find it
It's no longer your concern
The boy's sleeping in the backseat
Probably saying his prayers in his head
And by some miracle
He didn't wake up
Not even during the screaming
Not even during the silence after the screaming
Which, to you, seemed considerably louder
You gave him seeds to eat
And a pillow to put his head down on
Hoping he'd fall asleep
But not really expecting him to
You don't take him along on these drives
When you can help it
But today, today, today
You couldn't help it
Could you?
No way around it, really
He'll get a gift when he wakes up
Something nice
That can distract him
That he can take in the car
If you need to take him again
If things come up
The sweat smells worse than the blood does
And it gets on the steering wheel
On your way back into town
Lick the palm of your hand
Never minding the dirt
And push your hair back
Out of your eyes
Your lips taste bitter
From where the words came out
From the explanation
Of why this was happening
They always ask you that
They say--
'Why is this happening?'
And though you don't have to tell them
You do
Because it seems fair
Because it seems like they're asking for last rites
And who are you
To say they can't have them?
A simple explanation
You did something wrong
You screwed up
You said the wrong thing
Or you're just unpredictable
Which shouldn't be a good reason
To take someone along a road in Africa
But unfortunately, it is
You explain things to them as best you can
But they still scream and beat at you
And you always feel a little betrayed
As if there was some sort of agreement
That's been breached
Each time
When really
What agreement can you have
With a person you're about to leave mutilated
And torn apart
By the side of the road?
From the backseat
You hear rustling
Listen to the sound
Of your son
Waking up
Tell yourself that next time
You'll leave him home
Even without someone to watch him
Because it's better
Ultimately
Even if he's asleep
It's better if he's not around
But you feel like it's unsafe
Leaving him at home
By himself
You tell yourself
This isn't the jungle
This isn't the deep, dark forest
With lions waiting
To jump through windows
And get to the flesh
Of sweet young boys
It's Africa, but it's not Africa
It's a place with a different sort of danger
Than what people see
In books and movies
Mr. Livingston, Tarzan, etc etc
But still you hate leaving him at home
Even knowing
That as you drive away
The danger
For the most part
Goes with you
There's grey blood
And a jeep, idle
Waiting for the driver
To get back inside
Wipe the sweat off your brow
You're thirsty now, aren't you?
Put the shovel down
And let whoever finds it
Find it
It's no longer your concern
The boy's sleeping in the backseat
Probably saying his prayers in his head
And by some miracle
He didn't wake up
Not even during the screaming
Not even during the silence after the screaming
Which, to you, seemed considerably louder
You gave him seeds to eat
And a pillow to put his head down on
Hoping he'd fall asleep
But not really expecting him to
You don't take him along on these drives
When you can help it
But today, today, today
You couldn't help it
Could you?
No way around it, really
He'll get a gift when he wakes up
Something nice
That can distract him
That he can take in the car
If you need to take him again
If things come up
The sweat smells worse than the blood does
And it gets on the steering wheel
On your way back into town
Lick the palm of your hand
Never minding the dirt
And push your hair back
Out of your eyes
Your lips taste bitter
From where the words came out
From the explanation
Of why this was happening
They always ask you that
They say--
'Why is this happening?'
And though you don't have to tell them
You do
Because it seems fair
Because it seems like they're asking for last rites
And who are you
To say they can't have them?
A simple explanation
You did something wrong
You screwed up
You said the wrong thing
Or you're just unpredictable
Which shouldn't be a good reason
To take someone along a road in Africa
But unfortunately, it is
You explain things to them as best you can
But they still scream and beat at you
And you always feel a little betrayed
As if there was some sort of agreement
That's been breached
Each time
When really
What agreement can you have
With a person you're about to leave mutilated
And torn apart
By the side of the road?
From the backseat
You hear rustling
Listen to the sound
Of your son
Waking up
Tell yourself that next time
You'll leave him home
Even without someone to watch him
Because it's better
Ultimately
Even if he's asleep
It's better if he's not around
But you feel like it's unsafe
Leaving him at home
By himself
You tell yourself
This isn't the jungle
This isn't the deep, dark forest
With lions waiting
To jump through windows
And get to the flesh
Of sweet young boys
It's Africa, but it's not Africa
It's a place with a different sort of danger
Than what people see
In books and movies
Mr. Livingston, Tarzan, etc etc
But still you hate leaving him at home
Even knowing
That as you drive away
The danger
For the most part
Goes with you
Saturday, March 24, 2012
The Radishes Discuss Veganism
"What I like is how they're so high and mighty."
"Sooo high and mighty."
"Like they're saints."
"Ohhh look at us. We don't eat meat."
"We're so kind."
"We're so benevolent."
"We bite into the flesh of innocent turnips and act like that's nothing."
"What is wrong with them?"
"They're animal-lovers."
"Oh so saving the life of a cow is worth slaughtering fourteen carrots to make a carrot salad?"
"That's not a thing."
"I'm just tossing salad out there--as an example."
"Is it because animals are cuter?"
"Please! You're telling me a lamb is cuter than a potato? Potatoes are adorable."
"Lambs make noise."
"So now it's an aural thing? Until we can learn to moo or bay like some sort of awful goose--"
"I'm not sure the geese--"
"--we'll just continue to be victims of these vegans?"
"You know, it was one thing when they were just a wild fringe group like the terrorists and the librarians, but now that there's so many of them, I'm really worried."
"You should be worried. We're all they eat! They don't even drink milk!"
"Jesus, what kind of godless creatures are they?"
"The other day I heard a woman walk by talking about how she was going to go home and make an arugula salad with fresh chopped almonds--"
"I'm going to be sick."
"--for her boyfriend after he got home for his sensitivity seminar."
"Her boyfriend is gay?"
"They're all gay. Vegans are just gay people who have kids anyway."
"I told you we should have voted Republican! Then none of this would have ever happened! Now our lives are in danger. We're the last two fresh radishes here!"
"What about Herb?"
"Please, do you how many bugs are living in Herb? Split him down the middle and it'll look like an ant farm."
"So then we'll be next."
"Unless nobody feels like a radish?"
"Don't be ridiculous. We're the top of the vegetable chain. Right below broccoli."
"Broccoli's delicious. I wish I were broccoli."
"You wish you could see your children get eaten in front of you by some hipster named Constance right before she goes to a pro-choice rally?"
"I CAN'T EVEN DREAM ANYMORE!"
"We just have to hop that we rot away from the inside like Herb. At least that way, we'll die honorably."
"I was always so proud to be a vegetable, but now--"
"Stay proud! Don't ever let those vegan bastards take that away from you. We're god's creatures, not like pigs, which everybody knows are the devil's kittens."
"I'll miss you, you know. When they pick one of us. Or both."
"Stop it. Let's just enjoy the time we have left."
"I hope I wind up in a nice Caesar--"
"Don't. Don't even suggest it. Don't even mention the possibility of it. Just settle in."
"You know, from here I can see the milk."
"That's impossible. It's at the other end of the market."
"Maybe you're right. Maybe it's a dream."
"I am right."
"But what a dream. What an amazing dream."
"Sooo high and mighty."
"Like they're saints."
"Ohhh look at us. We don't eat meat."
"We're so kind."
"We're so benevolent."
"We bite into the flesh of innocent turnips and act like that's nothing."
"What is wrong with them?"
"They're animal-lovers."
"Oh so saving the life of a cow is worth slaughtering fourteen carrots to make a carrot salad?"
"That's not a thing."
"I'm just tossing salad out there--as an example."
"Is it because animals are cuter?"
"Please! You're telling me a lamb is cuter than a potato? Potatoes are adorable."
"Lambs make noise."
"So now it's an aural thing? Until we can learn to moo or bay like some sort of awful goose--"
"I'm not sure the geese--"
"--we'll just continue to be victims of these vegans?"
"You know, it was one thing when they were just a wild fringe group like the terrorists and the librarians, but now that there's so many of them, I'm really worried."
"You should be worried. We're all they eat! They don't even drink milk!"
"Jesus, what kind of godless creatures are they?"
"The other day I heard a woman walk by talking about how she was going to go home and make an arugula salad with fresh chopped almonds--"
"I'm going to be sick."
"--for her boyfriend after he got home for his sensitivity seminar."
"Her boyfriend is gay?"
"They're all gay. Vegans are just gay people who have kids anyway."
"I told you we should have voted Republican! Then none of this would have ever happened! Now our lives are in danger. We're the last two fresh radishes here!"
"What about Herb?"
"Please, do you how many bugs are living in Herb? Split him down the middle and it'll look like an ant farm."
"So then we'll be next."
"Unless nobody feels like a radish?"
"Don't be ridiculous. We're the top of the vegetable chain. Right below broccoli."
"Broccoli's delicious. I wish I were broccoli."
"You wish you could see your children get eaten in front of you by some hipster named Constance right before she goes to a pro-choice rally?"
"I CAN'T EVEN DREAM ANYMORE!"
"We just have to hop that we rot away from the inside like Herb. At least that way, we'll die honorably."
"I was always so proud to be a vegetable, but now--"
"Stay proud! Don't ever let those vegan bastards take that away from you. We're god's creatures, not like pigs, which everybody knows are the devil's kittens."
"I'll miss you, you know. When they pick one of us. Or both."
"Stop it. Let's just enjoy the time we have left."
"I hope I wind up in a nice Caesar--"
"Don't. Don't even suggest it. Don't even mention the possibility of it. Just settle in."
"You know, from here I can see the milk."
"That's impossible. It's at the other end of the market."
"Maybe you're right. Maybe it's a dream."
"I am right."
"But what a dream. What an amazing dream."
One Day This Will Be Our Past
One day this will be our past
Notice the overtures
Notice the ferris wheels
Notice the fascination
We have always felt
With ferris wheels
Eat a grape
Eat an apple
Taste the difference?
There's a difference
Broker a deal
Belie the issue
Does anyone know
How to belie an issue?
It sounds technical
Like so much
Like how so many things
Have, and are, and become
Technical
Dash a hope
Splash some water on your face
And keep going
But don't mind the awful paint job
Or the Pekingese wallpaper
Or the photo of the child
For there is always a photo of a child
In poor, poor writing
This is a revision
This is a revision of a third draft
And the first was sloppy
With bad penmanship
All things
Go to hell
This is just the way
Things are
But one day
This will be our past
Soda and sex
And gross exaggeration
And 't's crossed wrong
Will be
Our past
Behind us
So far behind us
We'll never be able to go back
And then we'll say--
'Don't you wish we could go back?'
And we will
We will wish it terribly
Terribly, terribly hard
But it will be too late
We will be somewhere else
That is nothing like here
With all its here and now-ness
One day this will be over
And we'll be stuck
In a whole
New
Past
Notice the overtures
Notice the ferris wheels
Notice the fascination
We have always felt
With ferris wheels
Eat a grape
Eat an apple
Taste the difference?
There's a difference
Broker a deal
Belie the issue
Does anyone know
How to belie an issue?
It sounds technical
Like so much
Like how so many things
Have, and are, and become
Technical
Dash a hope
Splash some water on your face
And keep going
But don't mind the awful paint job
Or the Pekingese wallpaper
Or the photo of the child
For there is always a photo of a child
In poor, poor writing
This is a revision
This is a revision of a third draft
And the first was sloppy
With bad penmanship
All things
Go to hell
This is just the way
Things are
But one day
This will be our past
Soda and sex
And gross exaggeration
And 't's crossed wrong
Will be
Our past
Behind us
So far behind us
We'll never be able to go back
And then we'll say--
'Don't you wish we could go back?'
And we will
We will wish it terribly
Terribly, terribly hard
But it will be too late
We will be somewhere else
That is nothing like here
With all its here and now-ness
One day this will be over
And we'll be stuck
In a whole
New
Past
The Man You Couldn't Be
He's got the hands you don't have
The eyes, the lips
The thighs, the surprises
That I didn't find
In you
He's got the thoughts
Those thoughtful thoughts
That remind you what that is
What thoughtful is
And considerate is
And sensitive is
And kindess is
Kindness is his indiscriminate smile
Given freely and without condition
And when he smiles at me
All I can see
Unfortunately or fortunately
Is the man you couldn't be
The man I looked for, longed for
Waited for?
Oh sure
But a man that never showed up
Never fully realized
Achieved, or believed
In himself
Or in us
A man that remained a mystery
To me, the next one over in the bed
The guy all wrapped up in his head
The bad news bear
Who wouldn't hibernate
And held all his cards
Until it was too late
For me to hit the gate
Yeah, I took the bait
And now fishing leaves me wishing
I was somewhere else
Alone
Figuring shit out on my own
My shit, my problems, my issues
Not having to worry about buying an extra box of tissues
For the extra shit
Someone else is bringing in
At a certain point I started doubting
My ability to win
At this uncertain game
But now I look
And I see
A man so good
I can't even love him yet
'Cause I don't know how
But when I figure it out
I will, because I don't wanna ever look in a mirror and see
The other side of the blame
Staring right back at me
The reflection of the man
You and I
Couldn't be
The eyes, the lips
The thighs, the surprises
That I didn't find
In you
He's got the thoughts
Those thoughtful thoughts
That remind you what that is
What thoughtful is
And considerate is
And sensitive is
And kindess is
Kindness is his indiscriminate smile
Given freely and without condition
And when he smiles at me
All I can see
Unfortunately or fortunately
Is the man you couldn't be
The man I looked for, longed for
Waited for?
Oh sure
But a man that never showed up
Never fully realized
Achieved, or believed
In himself
Or in us
A man that remained a mystery
To me, the next one over in the bed
The guy all wrapped up in his head
The bad news bear
Who wouldn't hibernate
And held all his cards
Until it was too late
For me to hit the gate
Yeah, I took the bait
And now fishing leaves me wishing
I was somewhere else
Alone
Figuring shit out on my own
My shit, my problems, my issues
Not having to worry about buying an extra box of tissues
For the extra shit
Someone else is bringing in
At a certain point I started doubting
My ability to win
At this uncertain game
But now I look
And I see
A man so good
I can't even love him yet
'Cause I don't know how
But when I figure it out
I will, because I don't wanna ever look in a mirror and see
The other side of the blame
Staring right back at me
The reflection of the man
You and I
Couldn't be
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
And Another Town to Go
I've got a backpack
Full of shit
I thought I needed
Two towns ago
I've got opinions
I've got thoughts
I've got ideas
All about...things
Things I've never actually seen
Things I've heard are waiting
Waiting for me
In the next town
I can't carry much more than that
Not on my back
Not in my head
Not resting on the tip of my thumb
A heavy thumb
Won't slow anyone down
Won't make you look more attractive
To a guy or a girl
With an empty passenger seat
And a desire to help a stranger
Or just engage in open conversation
I've got streetlights for suns
Park benches for sofas
My backpack for my pillow
Typical bum, you know?
Except bums don't move
I move
I'm constantly moving
I wake up
I get going
I stop when I have to
When I absolutely have to
But most of the time
I don't stop
Occasionally I'm detained
Paused
Arrested
But that's out of my control
One day I'll roll into--wherever
And see a shop I like
Or a lawn that looks the right kind of green
Or a window
That I want to look out of
Instead of into and--wow that sounds creepy
What I mean is
One day I'll find home
And what I tell myself
--Because you have to tell yourself something--
What I tell myself
Is that it's in the next town
Because if it's not
Why go there?
Or, like, why keep going--at all?
So I say to myself--
I just have another town to go
One more town and I'm home free
One more town
And I'll be the only one
Stopping me
Full of shit
I thought I needed
Two towns ago
I've got opinions
I've got thoughts
I've got ideas
All about...things
Things I've never actually seen
Things I've heard are waiting
Waiting for me
In the next town
I can't carry much more than that
Not on my back
Not in my head
Not resting on the tip of my thumb
A heavy thumb
Won't slow anyone down
Won't make you look more attractive
To a guy or a girl
With an empty passenger seat
And a desire to help a stranger
Or just engage in open conversation
I've got streetlights for suns
Park benches for sofas
My backpack for my pillow
Typical bum, you know?
Except bums don't move
I move
I'm constantly moving
I wake up
I get going
I stop when I have to
When I absolutely have to
But most of the time
I don't stop
Occasionally I'm detained
Paused
Arrested
But that's out of my control
One day I'll roll into--wherever
And see a shop I like
Or a lawn that looks the right kind of green
Or a window
That I want to look out of
Instead of into and--wow that sounds creepy
What I mean is
One day I'll find home
And what I tell myself
--Because you have to tell yourself something--
What I tell myself
Is that it's in the next town
Because if it's not
Why go there?
Or, like, why keep going--at all?
So I say to myself--
I just have another town to go
One more town and I'm home free
One more town
And I'll be the only one
Stopping me
Friday, March 16, 2012
The Penguins Discuss Global Warming
"It's not happening."
"Well..."
"I'm telling you, it's not happening."
"Maybe you don't perceive that--"
"Listen to me, I'm freezing."
"Okay, but--"
"I'm freezing. I can't feel my wings. Granted, they're little, but--"
"Haven't you noticed there's significantly less ice than there used to be?"
"I've noticed."
"And?"
"That doesn't necessarily indicate that there's global warming, Chad."
"Martin--"
"Chad."
"Martin..."
"Chad, ice melts. It's what it does. It melts. It's the nature of ice to melt."
"But so much of it is melting."
"Yes, well--"
"And as you said, it's freezing."
"Exactly!"
"So, if it's freezing why are things...melting?"
. . . . .
"Chad, are you a Communist?"
"What?"
"A Communist. A pinko. A Stalin-saluting--"
"I know what a Communist is, Martin, but why would you accuse me of being such a thing?"
"Because this is where these sorts of discussions lead. Right into Communism. Look, if you want to become a Commie and redistribute land and wealth like some sort of polar bear, you go right ahead."
"The polar bears aren't Communists. That's just a misconception."
"I'll tell you what's a misconception--that our way of life isn't under attack."
"It is under attack, Martin. The ground beneath us is crumbling."
"Exactly! The metaphorical ground under--"
"No, not the metaphorical ground. The actual ground."
"Chad, if that were true, wouldn't I be drowning right now?"
"Martin, isn't it true that we've had to move six times in the past two years?"
"That's just nature. Ice caps shift and maneuver and--other stuff happens. And so we move. Living things move. We change. We evolve. Maybe we'll grow thumbs. Or gills. That way we can live underwater."
"We'll be dead before that happens."
"Always a pessimist. Look, what I'm trying to say is--It doesn't mean the entire infrastructure is collapsing."
"But soon there won't be anywhere left to move to!"
"Yes there will be! Because more ice will freeze."
"If more ice was going to freeze, why wouldn't it be freezing now?"
"Why do you feel the need to solve the world's problems, Chad? Did somebody elect you King of the Problem Solvers? I keep telling you--the ice melting is not our concern. Our concern is eating and sleeping and not getting devoured by sea lions. That's all we need to worry about."
"Martin, aren't you scared for your kids?"
"No, why would I be--No. No, not at all. The kids are fine."
"But once we're gone, then what?"
"Well then, they won't be kids anymore."
"No, but they'll have their own kids to worry about. Our grandkids. What about them?"
"More ice will freeze."
"And if it doesn't?"
"I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT THAT, CHAD!"
"Okay, I just--"
"I can't stop ice from melting or make it freeze! I can't keep gathering up my family to move them somewhere every few weeks when there's no place left to move! I guess we could all just fly away, but--oh wait! We can't fly!"
"But we still have to think about this, don't we?"
"How can we think about things we can't change? Do our minds even let us?"
"I think about it."
"You do?"
"I think about it constantly."
"Well, that's..."
. . . . .
"I guess we'll just have to keep moving, Chad."
"Yes."
"And maybe the ice will freeze again."
"Or maybe we'll all fall off an ice cap into the abyss."
"And then we'll swim."
"Until we can't swim anymore."
"And then we'll know we tried. We tried our best."
"To do what?"
"To live, Martin. To survive. To fly."
"So that'll be what it feels like? To fly?"
"Probably."
"Well...I've always wondered. I've always wondered what that feels like."
"Well..."
"I'm telling you, it's not happening."
"Maybe you don't perceive that--"
"Listen to me, I'm freezing."
"Okay, but--"
"I'm freezing. I can't feel my wings. Granted, they're little, but--"
"Haven't you noticed there's significantly less ice than there used to be?"
"I've noticed."
"And?"
"That doesn't necessarily indicate that there's global warming, Chad."
"Martin--"
"Chad."
"Martin..."
"Chad, ice melts. It's what it does. It melts. It's the nature of ice to melt."
"But so much of it is melting."
"Yes, well--"
"And as you said, it's freezing."
"Exactly!"
"So, if it's freezing why are things...melting?"
. . . . .
"Chad, are you a Communist?"
"What?"
"A Communist. A pinko. A Stalin-saluting--"
"I know what a Communist is, Martin, but why would you accuse me of being such a thing?"
"Because this is where these sorts of discussions lead. Right into Communism. Look, if you want to become a Commie and redistribute land and wealth like some sort of polar bear, you go right ahead."
"The polar bears aren't Communists. That's just a misconception."
"I'll tell you what's a misconception--that our way of life isn't under attack."
"It is under attack, Martin. The ground beneath us is crumbling."
"Exactly! The metaphorical ground under--"
"No, not the metaphorical ground. The actual ground."
"Chad, if that were true, wouldn't I be drowning right now?"
"Martin, isn't it true that we've had to move six times in the past two years?"
"That's just nature. Ice caps shift and maneuver and--other stuff happens. And so we move. Living things move. We change. We evolve. Maybe we'll grow thumbs. Or gills. That way we can live underwater."
"We'll be dead before that happens."
"Always a pessimist. Look, what I'm trying to say is--It doesn't mean the entire infrastructure is collapsing."
"But soon there won't be anywhere left to move to!"
"Yes there will be! Because more ice will freeze."
"If more ice was going to freeze, why wouldn't it be freezing now?"
"Why do you feel the need to solve the world's problems, Chad? Did somebody elect you King of the Problem Solvers? I keep telling you--the ice melting is not our concern. Our concern is eating and sleeping and not getting devoured by sea lions. That's all we need to worry about."
"Martin, aren't you scared for your kids?"
"No, why would I be--No. No, not at all. The kids are fine."
"But once we're gone, then what?"
"Well then, they won't be kids anymore."
"No, but they'll have their own kids to worry about. Our grandkids. What about them?"
"More ice will freeze."
"And if it doesn't?"
"I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT THAT, CHAD!"
"Okay, I just--"
"I can't stop ice from melting or make it freeze! I can't keep gathering up my family to move them somewhere every few weeks when there's no place left to move! I guess we could all just fly away, but--oh wait! We can't fly!"
"But we still have to think about this, don't we?"
"How can we think about things we can't change? Do our minds even let us?"
"I think about it."
"You do?"
"I think about it constantly."
"Well, that's..."
. . . . .
"I guess we'll just have to keep moving, Chad."
"Yes."
"And maybe the ice will freeze again."
"Or maybe we'll all fall off an ice cap into the abyss."
"And then we'll swim."
"Until we can't swim anymore."
"And then we'll know we tried. We tried our best."
"To do what?"
"To live, Martin. To survive. To fly."
"So that'll be what it feels like? To fly?"
"Probably."
"Well...I've always wondered. I've always wondered what that feels like."
The King's Lunch
Servants, young and old
You all know that I hate to complain
But there were significant, uh, issues
With the royal lunch today
No, no, it wasn't cold
It was quite hot, in fact
No, the temperature wasn't the issue
The issue was, well--
The choice of ingredients
For one thing
I'm not sure why you all seem to think
I have such exotic tastes
But I beseech you
Please, no more pheasant
Contrary to your assertions
Pheasant does not taste like chicken
It tastes like pheasant
And pheasant
Tastes like donkey kidney
I should know
Because you continue to serve me donkey kidney
Every other Thursday
And every other Thursday
I regurgitate what you've served me
Into the nearest vase
Where, I believe, it sits for two weeks
Until one of you fishes it out
And serves it to me again
I'll admit, it was better than warthog hearts
Or turtle tail
And why is it that when you DO serve me something normal
You find a way to do something to it
That makes it inedible
If you're going to serve steak
You don't marinate it
In its mother's shame blood
And please stop making chocolate cake with nuts
Why must nuts go on everything?
I'm not allergic to them, per se
I just don't find them that appealing
I know that the old king
Had odd taste in...food
...Among other things
I'm still not exactly sure
What that trapeze is for in my chambers
But I'm a more easy-going king
A kinder king
A king who doesn't enjoy
Eating rabbit
While the rabbit is still alive
So from now on
Feel free to keep the meals simple
For your own sakes, as well
I'm sure that goat
Put up quite a struggle
Let's just do things the old-fashioned way, shall we?
Oh, and by the way
I feel a headache coming on
So if you could fetch the doctor
For my afternoon bleeding
An hour or so early
I'd be ever so grateful
I'm glad you're all onboard
With my new culinary plans
I just like keeping things
Modern
You all know that I hate to complain
But there were significant, uh, issues
With the royal lunch today
No, no, it wasn't cold
It was quite hot, in fact
No, the temperature wasn't the issue
The issue was, well--
The choice of ingredients
For one thing
I'm not sure why you all seem to think
I have such exotic tastes
But I beseech you
Please, no more pheasant
Contrary to your assertions
Pheasant does not taste like chicken
It tastes like pheasant
And pheasant
Tastes like donkey kidney
I should know
Because you continue to serve me donkey kidney
Every other Thursday
And every other Thursday
I regurgitate what you've served me
Into the nearest vase
Where, I believe, it sits for two weeks
Until one of you fishes it out
And serves it to me again
I'll admit, it was better than warthog hearts
Or turtle tail
And why is it that when you DO serve me something normal
You find a way to do something to it
That makes it inedible
If you're going to serve steak
You don't marinate it
In its mother's shame blood
And please stop making chocolate cake with nuts
Why must nuts go on everything?
I'm not allergic to them, per se
I just don't find them that appealing
I know that the old king
Had odd taste in...food
...Among other things
I'm still not exactly sure
What that trapeze is for in my chambers
But I'm a more easy-going king
A kinder king
A king who doesn't enjoy
Eating rabbit
While the rabbit is still alive
So from now on
Feel free to keep the meals simple
For your own sakes, as well
I'm sure that goat
Put up quite a struggle
Let's just do things the old-fashioned way, shall we?
Oh, and by the way
I feel a headache coming on
So if you could fetch the doctor
For my afternoon bleeding
An hour or so early
I'd be ever so grateful
I'm glad you're all onboard
With my new culinary plans
I just like keeping things
Modern
From the Drifting Islands
That sound you hear
Is not whales crying
Although
Centuries ago
That is what it was believed
To be
Women would come out to the shore
And search the horizon
For their sea-struck counterparts
Mourning the loss of a male
Ironically, they thought
Because their husbands were whalers
And so they had probably killed
Their own counterparts
But men often kill
Their own reflections
That is not unusual
But remember what I said
The sound you hear
Is not
Whales crying
It is the sound of shifting
And it comes
From the drifting islands
Out on the sea
There are islands
That never
Stay in one place
Every so often
They cross the sea
Moving to a softer place
Where the water is more welcoming
Because water is fluid
It changes
The temperature
The texture
And so it is necessary
To adjust one's position
If one is an island
And one can as an island
Change position
Occasionally things will wash up on shore
From the drifting islands
Shoes, socks, bracelets
Band-aids, cracked glasses, half-lit candles
Floating on a saucer
Driftwood--of course
Popcorn machines
And once, just once
A baby
I was there the day the baby washed up
In a clean, wicker basket
Like Moses
Down the river
It was late in the day
So all the tourists
And the couples
Had gone home
I was kneeling by the river
And I heard a sound
Like the shifting of the islands
But when I looked down the beach
I saw it
That little basket
And I knew the cry I heard
Really was a cry
Not of the mourning whales
But of a child
Growing up
We heard that babies would wash up
From the drifting islands
You were supposed to bring them to the police
And then they were never heard from again
But I had other plans
I took that baby home
And raised it as my own
And I never noticed anything wrong with him
Until he got older
Then I saw the shifting in him
The stepping from foot-to-foot
The restlessness
Just like the islands
He came from
Finally, one day he left
Needed a stronger foundation
Or maybe the water got too warm
Either way, he's gone
And so now
I walk the beach again
Waiting for the sound
The sound of something moving
Something needing
A new direction
A place
To rest
Waiting for something
To drift
Right into my arms
Is not whales crying
Although
Centuries ago
That is what it was believed
To be
Women would come out to the shore
And search the horizon
For their sea-struck counterparts
Mourning the loss of a male
Ironically, they thought
Because their husbands were whalers
And so they had probably killed
Their own counterparts
But men often kill
Their own reflections
That is not unusual
But remember what I said
The sound you hear
Is not
Whales crying
It is the sound of shifting
And it comes
From the drifting islands
Out on the sea
There are islands
That never
Stay in one place
Every so often
They cross the sea
Moving to a softer place
Where the water is more welcoming
Because water is fluid
It changes
The temperature
The texture
And so it is necessary
To adjust one's position
If one is an island
And one can as an island
Change position
Occasionally things will wash up on shore
From the drifting islands
Shoes, socks, bracelets
Band-aids, cracked glasses, half-lit candles
Floating on a saucer
Driftwood--of course
Popcorn machines
And once, just once
A baby
I was there the day the baby washed up
In a clean, wicker basket
Like Moses
Down the river
It was late in the day
So all the tourists
And the couples
Had gone home
I was kneeling by the river
And I heard a sound
Like the shifting of the islands
But when I looked down the beach
I saw it
That little basket
And I knew the cry I heard
Really was a cry
Not of the mourning whales
But of a child
Growing up
We heard that babies would wash up
From the drifting islands
You were supposed to bring them to the police
And then they were never heard from again
But I had other plans
I took that baby home
And raised it as my own
And I never noticed anything wrong with him
Until he got older
Then I saw the shifting in him
The stepping from foot-to-foot
The restlessness
Just like the islands
He came from
Finally, one day he left
Needed a stronger foundation
Or maybe the water got too warm
Either way, he's gone
And so now
I walk the beach again
Waiting for the sound
The sound of something moving
Something needing
A new direction
A place
To rest
Waiting for something
To drift
Right into my arms
Thursday, March 15, 2012
A Very Big Drum
My brother carries
A very big drum
He doesn't play it
Bang it, nothing like that
All he does is carry it around
And make people nervous
My mother, especially
She looks at him
Then looks at me
And back at him
And says--Well?
And he says--Yes?
And she says--Why don't you play?
Aren't you going to play?
When do you plan on playing that thing, huh?
When when when when when when?
And he looks at her
As if he has no idea
What she's talking about
And maybe he doesn't
So she just gets up
And plays her violin
And I play my harp
And my father plays the trumpet
And my brother sits with his very big drum
And finishes his cereal
At school, kids stare at him
While they play their tubas and trombones
Their cellos and oboes
And all around this world of sound
My brother walks
With his very big drum
Not playing it
Not making a sound
His teachers are concerned
But aside from his unplayed drum
My brother is fairly normal
He's quiet, sure
But only musically
He talks and chats
And makes conversation
With anyone willing to talk to a boy
With a very big drum
With nothing to it
But a very noticeable silence
Something untouched
Something unfulfilled
A noise waiting to be made
I never ask my brother
When he's going
To bang his drum
I can sense that he likes it
The noise before the noise
The sound before the sound
The anticipation
Of having something
Controlling it
Deciding when it will become
What it should
An instrument
A tool
A vessel of expression
But until then
It is just
A very big drum
Maybe my brother is worried
That once it's played
People won't like
How it sounds
Maybe they won't care
For what he has to say with it
Maybe he'll just be
The boy with the drum
Instead of the quiet young man
Waiting
To be heard
A very big drum
He doesn't play it
Bang it, nothing like that
All he does is carry it around
And make people nervous
My mother, especially
She looks at him
Then looks at me
And back at him
And says--Well?
And he says--Yes?
And she says--Why don't you play?
Aren't you going to play?
When do you plan on playing that thing, huh?
When when when when when when?
And he looks at her
As if he has no idea
What she's talking about
And maybe he doesn't
So she just gets up
And plays her violin
And I play my harp
And my father plays the trumpet
And my brother sits with his very big drum
And finishes his cereal
At school, kids stare at him
While they play their tubas and trombones
Their cellos and oboes
And all around this world of sound
My brother walks
With his very big drum
Not playing it
Not making a sound
His teachers are concerned
But aside from his unplayed drum
My brother is fairly normal
He's quiet, sure
But only musically
He talks and chats
And makes conversation
With anyone willing to talk to a boy
With a very big drum
With nothing to it
But a very noticeable silence
Something untouched
Something unfulfilled
A noise waiting to be made
I never ask my brother
When he's going
To bang his drum
I can sense that he likes it
The noise before the noise
The sound before the sound
The anticipation
Of having something
Controlling it
Deciding when it will become
What it should
An instrument
A tool
A vessel of expression
But until then
It is just
A very big drum
Maybe my brother is worried
That once it's played
People won't like
How it sounds
Maybe they won't care
For what he has to say with it
Maybe he'll just be
The boy with the drum
Instead of the quiet young man
Waiting
To be heard
A Dull Morning in New Zealand
The thing about the sheep is
They judge you
They disdain you, they do
The fucking sheep
They have disdain
For you
You understand?
Don't trust those fucking sheep
They'll snap your neck
Without thinking twice about it
Or they would
If they had hands
I was watching them the other day
After I found out Claude got murdered
And I thought--
You know, those sheep
Would fucking murder me
They would
I think most people would murder you
Given the chance
I'd murder almost everybody I know
My boss
My sister
My wife
Ho ho ho, my wife
I'd murder her a few times
If I thought I could
The only difference between a murderer
And a non-murderer
Is a small slice of sanity
That, at any point
Can get eaten up by life's hardships
Just like a piece of cake
Or a turnip
Or something
They'll never find Claude, you know
Not a chance
I mean, they found his arm
But the rest of him
Is long gone
That's what happens
When you put up a fence
Between yourself and your neighbors
All fences end
In brutal homicide
I bet the police won't even investigate
They say they are
But I bet they're just going through the motions
And what they're really thinking is--
Fucker shouldn't have gotten a fence
Should have left well enough alone
Me?
I don't have a fence
And my neighbor and I get along just fine
But me and the sheep?
That's a different story
Sheep's one of those things
You can't do anything about
If they kill you, they kill you
But then at least, people feel bad for you
Not like with that stupid fucker Claude
At least you're missed
What a quiet morning
Isn't it quiet?
Nice to live in a place so calm
Where all you have to worry about
Is the sheep
That's still a lot to worry about
But at least it's just one thing
Just a few hundred sheep
To keep an eye on
They judge you
They disdain you, they do
The fucking sheep
They have disdain
For you
You understand?
Don't trust those fucking sheep
They'll snap your neck
Without thinking twice about it
Or they would
If they had hands
I was watching them the other day
After I found out Claude got murdered
And I thought--
You know, those sheep
Would fucking murder me
They would
I think most people would murder you
Given the chance
I'd murder almost everybody I know
My boss
My sister
My wife
Ho ho ho, my wife
I'd murder her a few times
If I thought I could
The only difference between a murderer
And a non-murderer
Is a small slice of sanity
That, at any point
Can get eaten up by life's hardships
Just like a piece of cake
Or a turnip
Or something
They'll never find Claude, you know
Not a chance
I mean, they found his arm
But the rest of him
Is long gone
That's what happens
When you put up a fence
Between yourself and your neighbors
All fences end
In brutal homicide
I bet the police won't even investigate
They say they are
But I bet they're just going through the motions
And what they're really thinking is--
Fucker shouldn't have gotten a fence
Should have left well enough alone
Me?
I don't have a fence
And my neighbor and I get along just fine
But me and the sheep?
That's a different story
Sheep's one of those things
You can't do anything about
If they kill you, they kill you
But then at least, people feel bad for you
Not like with that stupid fucker Claude
At least you're missed
What a quiet morning
Isn't it quiet?
Nice to live in a place so calm
Where all you have to worry about
Is the sheep
That's still a lot to worry about
But at least it's just one thing
Just a few hundred sheep
To keep an eye on
Hammond, LA
Bring back some extra bread
If you're going for it
If you're not going for it
Then don't worry about it
But if you're going for it
Just take back some extra with you
And I'll give you the money
When I get paid on Friday
Kinda sad we're down to soda and milk
Wish one of 'em were solid at least
Then at least we'd feel like
We have some sort of a meal
On our hands
Asshole can still smoke though, can't he?
Always has money for cigarettes
Not for rent or food
Or for my doctor's appointments
But plenty of money
To smoke up
When he's feeling stressed out
And just what stresses him out
You might ask?
When I won't screw him
That's what gets him all upset
And what he doesn't--can't--understand
Is that I don't screw him
Because he ain't a man anymore
Man brings home the bread, doesn't he?
The bacon, the bread, the clothing for his kids
Keeps the eviction notices off the door
Keeps the phone from ringing
Keeps everything in order
I don't see anything around here in order
Do you?
Maybe when I do
He'll start getting his again
But I don't see that happening
Anytime soon
And that's, uh--
What do you say?
--That's between you and me
And the birds
And the walls
You got that?
Some people like to fight
I don't like to fight
I'm not going to fight with him
Over going out
Getting up off his ass
And getting a job
I shouldn't have to fight about that
So I don't
I just don't bother at all
Why bother, you know?
Not worth worrying about
All I'm worried about now
Is bread
If you're going for it
If you're not going for it
Then don't worry about it
But if you're going for it
Just take back some extra with you
And I'll give you the money
When I get paid on Friday
Kinda sad we're down to soda and milk
Wish one of 'em were solid at least
Then at least we'd feel like
We have some sort of a meal
On our hands
Asshole can still smoke though, can't he?
Always has money for cigarettes
Not for rent or food
Or for my doctor's appointments
But plenty of money
To smoke up
When he's feeling stressed out
And just what stresses him out
You might ask?
When I won't screw him
That's what gets him all upset
And what he doesn't--can't--understand
Is that I don't screw him
Because he ain't a man anymore
Man brings home the bread, doesn't he?
The bacon, the bread, the clothing for his kids
Keeps the eviction notices off the door
Keeps the phone from ringing
Keeps everything in order
I don't see anything around here in order
Do you?
Maybe when I do
He'll start getting his again
But I don't see that happening
Anytime soon
And that's, uh--
What do you say?
--That's between you and me
And the birds
And the walls
You got that?
Some people like to fight
I don't like to fight
I'm not going to fight with him
Over going out
Getting up off his ass
And getting a job
I shouldn't have to fight about that
So I don't
I just don't bother at all
Why bother, you know?
Not worth worrying about
All I'm worried about now
Is bread
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Why I See Shows
I went to this awful show the other night
Awful, oh Lord
You should see my program
I bit right through it
In the second act
So I wouldn't scream
I went because somebody I did a show with once
Had six lines in it
And wanted me to come
And it was in this converted laundromat
With the washers still lined up
And everything
And we were on folding chairs
And the lighting was harsh
And at one point
All the characters took turns
Eating a baby
That was made out of grape jello
It was one of those moments where you think--
This could be one of those raw, gorgeous instances
Of independent and intimate theater
And instead it's just awful
And you'd wished you'd stayed home
And clipped your toenails instead
But after the play
When they were passing around
The grape jello baby
Because it was the only concessions they had
I got to talking to all the people who were there
And, you know, we all knew each other
Because who else would go to something like this
Aside from people who know the actors
And the occasional homeless person
Who wanders in off the street
I mean, they weren't doing this in the Village
This was small town
This was, like--
I think we were down the street
From a methadone clinic
And a kosher deli
But you know
I don't go to theater
For the theater
I mean, not most of the time
Some of the time, yes
Oh, and I know all this sounds horrible
But it's TRUE!
I see shows for the people
My friends
All these theater people
Who sit through this and that
Because that's what we do
We're a community
We're a family
And we enjoy each other's company
So we watch a lousy production of this
And a lousy production of that
And what we enjoy about it
What we actually like
Is sitting there with each other
Enjoying each other's company
It's like family dinner, or something
That's why I see shows
Oh, and I also happen to like jello
Quite a bit
Awful, oh Lord
You should see my program
I bit right through it
In the second act
So I wouldn't scream
I went because somebody I did a show with once
Had six lines in it
And wanted me to come
And it was in this converted laundromat
With the washers still lined up
And everything
And we were on folding chairs
And the lighting was harsh
And at one point
All the characters took turns
Eating a baby
That was made out of grape jello
It was one of those moments where you think--
This could be one of those raw, gorgeous instances
Of independent and intimate theater
And instead it's just awful
And you'd wished you'd stayed home
And clipped your toenails instead
But after the play
When they were passing around
The grape jello baby
Because it was the only concessions they had
I got to talking to all the people who were there
And, you know, we all knew each other
Because who else would go to something like this
Aside from people who know the actors
And the occasional homeless person
Who wanders in off the street
I mean, they weren't doing this in the Village
This was small town
This was, like--
I think we were down the street
From a methadone clinic
And a kosher deli
But you know
I don't go to theater
For the theater
I mean, not most of the time
Some of the time, yes
Oh, and I know all this sounds horrible
But it's TRUE!
I see shows for the people
My friends
All these theater people
Who sit through this and that
Because that's what we do
We're a community
We're a family
And we enjoy each other's company
So we watch a lousy production of this
And a lousy production of that
And what we enjoy about it
What we actually like
Is sitting there with each other
Enjoying each other's company
It's like family dinner, or something
That's why I see shows
Oh, and I also happen to like jello
Quite a bit
A New Orleans Proposal
Well, the house was wiped out
I mean, just wiped out
Water everywhere
Typical story, you know
Not any sadder than anybody else's
And I had my sister's to go to
Although, truth be told
I'd have rather taken my chances with the water
But that's another story for you
If you have a few days
Mr. Bogatelle lived across the street from me
And his house only got it so bad
So he invited me to come stay with him
But I told him if that my mama found out
I was living in a house with a man
I was not married to
She would crawl out of her tomb
Find me
And whoop me within an inch of my own life
I didn't even mention
What she'd do to him
Mr. Bogatelle and I had been seeing each other
Regularly, for quite some time
And if we were younger
I suppose we would have already been living together
And doing things
That my mother, in her ninety-seven years on this earth
Never even dreamed of
But we were both old-fashioned
So we did not
Live together
Or any such thing
Not even when the water was coming
And it might have been more sensible
To have two people shoveling water out of one basement
As opposed to both of us fending for ourselves
So I went to live with my sister
And when I arrived back at my home
Three months later
There was Mr. Bogatelle
Up on a ladder
Right in front of my door
Hanging a banner that said--
'Welcome Back Home'
He'd fixed up the place
Can't imagine how long it must have took him
And he even put on a new coat of paint
And replaced those awful windows
That mama used to love so much
Underneath the words
'Welcome Back Home'
Were the words--
'Wanna Get Married?'
He spelled 'married' wrong
But I found it charming
All the same
Truth be told, I can't say I had much interest
In getting married
I'd been on my own
For a long time
And I liked it just fine
But something about the whole thing
Just seemed too perfect
To say 'No' to
The chance to say--
Well, everything's gone
Nobody's who they were
And if any of us are going to get through this
We better start learning
To get through it together
So I told Mr. Bogatelle I'd marry him
It was a real New Orleans proposal
Sweet, but not so sweet
You couldn't taste the salt
In the air
In the tears
In the water still stuck in everything
It reminds you that everything's hard work
But if you work hard enough
You might just be okay
I mean, just wiped out
Water everywhere
Typical story, you know
Not any sadder than anybody else's
And I had my sister's to go to
Although, truth be told
I'd have rather taken my chances with the water
But that's another story for you
If you have a few days
Mr. Bogatelle lived across the street from me
And his house only got it so bad
So he invited me to come stay with him
But I told him if that my mama found out
I was living in a house with a man
I was not married to
She would crawl out of her tomb
Find me
And whoop me within an inch of my own life
I didn't even mention
What she'd do to him
Mr. Bogatelle and I had been seeing each other
Regularly, for quite some time
And if we were younger
I suppose we would have already been living together
And doing things
That my mother, in her ninety-seven years on this earth
Never even dreamed of
But we were both old-fashioned
So we did not
Live together
Or any such thing
Not even when the water was coming
And it might have been more sensible
To have two people shoveling water out of one basement
As opposed to both of us fending for ourselves
So I went to live with my sister
And when I arrived back at my home
Three months later
There was Mr. Bogatelle
Up on a ladder
Right in front of my door
Hanging a banner that said--
'Welcome Back Home'
He'd fixed up the place
Can't imagine how long it must have took him
And he even put on a new coat of paint
And replaced those awful windows
That mama used to love so much
Underneath the words
'Welcome Back Home'
Were the words--
'Wanna Get Married?'
He spelled 'married' wrong
But I found it charming
All the same
Truth be told, I can't say I had much interest
In getting married
I'd been on my own
For a long time
And I liked it just fine
But something about the whole thing
Just seemed too perfect
To say 'No' to
The chance to say--
Well, everything's gone
Nobody's who they were
And if any of us are going to get through this
We better start learning
To get through it together
So I told Mr. Bogatelle I'd marry him
It was a real New Orleans proposal
Sweet, but not so sweet
You couldn't taste the salt
In the air
In the tears
In the water still stuck in everything
It reminds you that everything's hard work
But if you work hard enough
You might just be okay
Land Conservation
Hi everyone! My name is Reginald Van Williams, and my great-great-great grandfather once sold Roger Williams a crippled mule and then took part of his last name. Nobody knows why he did that—took the name, not sold the mule—but I like to think it was because my great-great-great grandfather knew something about perception. All these years later, here I am, talking to all of you, and that’s what I’m here to tell you. Perception is reality and reality is money and money is time and time is precious and precious is—you. You are precious. I’m not sure where I was going with that, but let’s cut to the chase.
It’s all about how you sell it.
That’s the title of my new book, available next week from Van Williams Press and online www.rvwitsallaboutperception.com.
The book is about how you can take any topic and make it approachable, accessible, and available to the public at large.
So today we’re talking about land conservation. That's because I answered the ad you all posted on Craig's List. Plus, the New Hampshire Land Conservation Conference couldn't afford me.
Now, I had a really interesting power point presentation to go with this talk, but I dropped my laptop in one of your beautiful rivers while I was doing research for this, so unfortunately you’re just going to have to use your imagination, or I could make shadow puppets while I—
Now let’s talk about the first and most obvious problem with most of your bodies of water: Spelling. Every river and lake you have has about sixteen letters in its name. Do you know why the Great Lakes are so great? Because their names are short and easy to spell. Huron, Eerie, Michigan, Super Duper, and Olive Town. Easy peezy. Y’all need to take a tip from them and do some renaming. And, while you’re at it, take this opportunity to give them some more marketing-friendly names. Instead of the Sakonnet River, what about Sexy Waterway or Happy Beach? Woonasquatucket? I’m bored by the time I get to ‘tucket.’ Sooo what about Hottie River? Or Cool Hip River? Or Madonna River? I’m just tossing some ideas out here, but feel free to use any of them—provided I get half gross on any products that may appear with those names.
I mean, you've got Pewcatuck, Meshashick, Indian Lake--I mean, did you run out of names by the time you got to Indian Lake? Oh, and the Great Swamp--I mean, have you been there? The word 'great' doesn't really apply.
And all these acronyms! OSHA and MOSHA and DTBCSEDWQ! If the acronym takes an hour to say it kind of defeats the purpose.
At nine o’clock: Blackstone River Matchmaker! Two people get set up on a blind date, where they take a trip down the Blackstone River. If they’re in love by the time they get to Seekonk, there’s a Justice of the Peace waiting to marry them at the Seekonk Speedway.
The Pawtuxet River Water Park!
If there’s two THINGS I learned, it’s the naming thing AND that here in Rhode Island we have a lot of respect for our past. For where we came from. For the invisible strings that hold us to each other and to those who came before us. And that’s why it’s important to keep spreading the word about honoring places like these, because when we do, we’re really honoring people like my Dad, who loved this state so much.
And you like everything I just said, then I encourage you to buy a commemorative plate I’m selling with that entire speech right on it.
It’s all about how you sell it.
That’s the title of my new book, available next week from Van Williams Press and online www.rvwitsallaboutperception.com.
The book is about how you can take any topic and make it approachable, accessible, and available to the public at large.
So today we’re talking about land conservation. That's because I answered the ad you all posted on Craig's List. Plus, the New Hampshire Land Conservation Conference couldn't afford me.
Now, I had a really interesting power point presentation to go with this talk, but I dropped my laptop in one of your beautiful rivers while I was doing research for this, so unfortunately you’re just going to have to use your imagination, or I could make shadow puppets while I—
You know what? Never mind.
Now let’s talk about the first and most obvious problem with most of your bodies of water: Spelling. Every river and lake you have has about sixteen letters in its name. Do you know why the Great Lakes are so great? Because their names are short and easy to spell. Huron, Eerie, Michigan, Super Duper, and Olive Town. Easy peezy. Y’all need to take a tip from them and do some renaming. And, while you’re at it, take this opportunity to give them some more marketing-friendly names. Instead of the Sakonnet River, what about Sexy Waterway or Happy Beach? Woonasquatucket? I’m bored by the time I get to ‘tucket.’ Sooo what about Hottie River? Or Cool Hip River? Or Madonna River? I’m just tossing some ideas out here, but feel free to use any of them—provided I get half gross on any products that may appear with those names.
I mean, you've got Pewcatuck, Meshashick, Indian Lake--I mean, did you run out of names by the time you got to Indian Lake? Oh, and the Great Swamp--I mean, have you been there? The word 'great' doesn't really apply.
And all these acronyms! OSHA and MOSHA and DTBCSEDWQ! If the acronym takes an hour to say it kind of defeats the purpose.
Another thing to think about is that magic box we call “television.” There are a hundred billion channels out there and none of you are on any of them! Now, my first thought would be to start your own network, but that could take years, so instead I’m just going to recommend that you take over another network. One nobody watches like the Discovery Channel or the Rugby Network. Once you’re in the building, those Discovery geeks won’t have the nerve to kick you out again. That’s when you unveil your programming line-up:
At eight o’clock: CSI: Narragansett Bay. Over twelve million people visit Narragansett Bay each year, and one of them is getting murdered every week!
At nine o’clock: Blackstone River Matchmaker! Two people get set up on a blind date, where they take a trip down the Blackstone River. If they’re in love by the time they get to Seekonk, there’s a Justice of the Peace waiting to marry them at the Seekonk Speedway.
Finally, at ten o’clock, it’s The Real Housewives of West Sneech Brook. I have no idea where West Sneech Brook is, but I found three women who live near there and hate each other, and I can only assume that’ll make for some good television.
Let’s talk about the Blackstone River for a second: It was once called "the most polluted river in the country with respect to toxic sediments." I don’t know why we’re respecting toxic sediments, because they sound pretty nasty to me, but I’m not up all on your river jargon.
Let’s think of ways we can reverse this negative reputation. I like to use t-shirts. For example, we could have t-shirts that say “Blackstone River: We’re Not Polluted Anymore!” or “Blackstone River: Swimming Won’t Kill You…Anymore!” or “Blackstone River: That’s Just a Pile of Leaves It Isn’t a Floating Shopping Cart—Anymore!” Pretty soon, nobody will even remember that at one time that water had more junk in it than a Hoarder’s tool shed. AND where else can you find a trendy pair of vintage red sneakers--or a red and a green sneaker--or a green and a blue--well, you get the point.
Hahahaha oooh! Coffee mugs! We can have Blackstone coffee mugs that say “Before we cleaned up the river, the water looked like what’s in this mug!” That might be a little long—we can workshop that.
I’ve also come up with some ways to make the river more appealing to kids. We’ve come up with a line of Blackstone action figures that I think will be on every tot’s Christmas list this year. First is the William Blaxton doll. The river was named after him, so he comes with a little flag that he can put anywhere he wants that says “I’m a River Man” AND a gun, because kids like action figures with guns. We also have a Samuel Slater doll that comes with a bale full of cotton, a gun, and an army tank. Again, we’re aiming for a younger demographic here. And, because we don’t want to leave out the girls, we came up with Bonnie Blackstone, a river doll for little girls who one day dream of riding a boat up and down a river to find a husband on its gorgeous shores! Some call it sexist, but I call it—American.
Now, the Pawtuxet River also has a less-than-thrilling distinction. It’s known for its proclivity for flooding. So we develop—
The Pawtuxet River Water Park!
Amusement parks the best way to endear something to the general public. I once handled the PR for a toxic waste spill on the shores of California. Everyone was saying it was an environmental disaster and that the company responsible would be bankrupted by the bad publicity. You know what I said?
“SUPER TOXIC WASTELAND!”
We had a ‘Don’t Touch the Birds’ Ferris Wheel, a ‘Don’t Go in the Water’ rollercoaster, and a life-sized model of the ship’s Captain, although we downplayed just how intoxicated he was when the oil spill happened. A little creative license there.
So I say we do the same thing for the Pawtuxet River. We can make it like The Magic Kingdom! There’ll be Scituate Reservoir Land, the West Warwick Rapids Ride, and the Cranston Flume! Pretty soon, people won’t only be over the whole flooding thing, they’ll be looking forward to it!
“Mommy, there’s flooding! Let’s go to the Pawtuxet River Water Disney Park!”
I threw Disney in there to help it sell, but I’m not entirely sure we’ll get away with that without being sued. But hey—art means taking risks, right? Actually, it's been proven that getting sued is one of the most effective ways to gain the public's sympathy. Four out of ten people who get sued see their approval ratings go through the roof, that is, of the four that end up losing their lawsuit. The six that win their lawsuits see a drop in approval ratings, unless they're being sued by a company that owns a power plant because people don't like power because they don't have enough of it which is why I'm here to tell you it's okay to embrace your power.
That's why my first book was called 'Embrace Your Power.'
We actually did an experiment down by one of your rivers where we had sad people stand by the river for seventeen days to see if being by a body of water in this great state would improve their mood. Sure enough, the people felt great--for the first five hours, until they realized we wouldn't be able to feed or shelter them during the duration of the experiment. The good news is, though the results of that experiment were inconclusive, we did find out that drinking river water probably won't kill you--which is great!
That's why my first book was called 'Embrace Your Power.'
We actually did an experiment down by one of your rivers where we had sad people stand by the river for seventeen days to see if being by a body of water in this great state would improve their mood. Sure enough, the people felt great--for the first five hours, until they realized we wouldn't be able to feed or shelter them during the duration of the experiment. The good news is, though the results of that experiment were inconclusive, we did find out that drinking river water probably won't kill you--which is great!
Lastly, I’d like to share a memory with all of you. You see, I grew up here in Rhode Island, and coming from a historic family wasn’t always easy. When your ancestors scammed the founder of your state, that’s a lot to live up to, but god knows I’ve tried. I remember how often my Dad would take me down to Roger Williams Park, and Zoo, and Hospital, and Museum, and Bird Sanctuary, and Wildebeest Habitat, and Zebra Enclosure, and if there’s one thing I learned early on it’s this:
When you’re the founder of a state, you get a lot of stuff named after you.
If there’s two THINGS I learned, it’s the naming thing AND that here in Rhode Island we have a lot of respect for our past. For where we came from. For the invisible strings that hold us to each other and to those who came before us. And that’s why it’s important to keep spreading the word about honoring places like these, because when we do, we’re really honoring people like my Dad, who loved this state so much.
And you like everything I just said, then I encourage you to buy a commemorative plate I’m selling with that entire speech right on it.
It’s also got a handsome photo of yours truly on it, standing by a lake, looking pretty darn happy. The lake is in Montana, but if you squint and hold the plate upside down, it might as well be the Providence River. Remember everybody.
It’s all about perception.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Fame Therapy
"So the issue we're looking at is--"
"Fame."
"Right."
"I need to work out the whole fame thing."
"Would you say it's an infatuation?"
"Oh absolutely, doctor. Probably an obsession even."
"Okay, so what we could do--"
"You can help?"
"I can certainly try. All obsessions are rooted in--"
"So what are your ideas?"
"Well, again, we could find the root of--"
"Are we thinking a viral video?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Should I make a video and, like, really push it? Try to get it to go viral? I took this one of a puppy barking that old Wayne Newton song but--"
"Wait, stop. I'm confused. What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you're going to help me become famous, right? Isn't that why I'm here?"
"No. I'm going to help you deal with your obsession."
"...By helping me become famous."
"No."
"Well, why not?"
"Because that's not how you cure an obsession."
"Isn't an obsession an illness?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"Don't you usually prescribe medicine for an illness?"
"Of course."
"So then shouldn't you be helping me get famous? Wouldn't that be the cure for being obsessed with fame?"
"No, not--"
"I mean, if someone has cancer you give them cancer medicine, right?"
"We don't really call it 'cancer medicine' but--"
"So give me fame medicine. Fame being the medicine."
"Disregarding the fact that I have no idea how to make someone famous--"
"You better not be billing me for this."
"--Even if I did. You can't go through life being obsessed with fame."
"Why not? People go through life obsessed with all sorts of things. Then, once they get them, they're fine."
"That's not--"
"Women get obsessed with having children. Men get obsessed with women. Children get obsessed with toys. You give people what they want, and everybody's thrilled."
"But none of those things are what those people actually want. Women want to be feel appreciated. Men want to feel validated. Children--"
"--Like toys!"
"Fame will not stop you from wanting what it is you really want."
"Which is what?"
"It could be lots of things. Love--"
"Don't people love famous people?"
"That's not real love."
"I don't know. I think I really do love James Brolin."
"That doesn't--James Brolin? Really?"
"Sure, I'd like love. Who wouldn't? Fame will get me that."
"There's also...the urge to be remembered."
"Well people do tend to remember the famous. I remember James Brolin."
"Why wouldn't you remember him? He's still alive."
"And he always will be...in my heart."
"Anyone who finds themselves fascinated by fame is dealing with a problem that fame itself would not only not help, but probably exacerbate."
"What if I just want to get clapped at all the time and told I'm awesome?"
"You don't need to be famous for--okay, maybe the clapping, yeah."
"I know I shouldn't want it, but it could be worse. I could want drugs or alcohol or Brazilian hookers. I just want fame. That's not awful, right?"
"It's not...the worst thing."
"You never wanted it?"
"I wanted to help people."
"You could help people--if you were, like, a famous doctor."
"I could help you like I am now."
"I'd probably listen to you more more if you were famous."
"What is it about fame that appeals to you? Aside from the clapping and being told you're awesome and unconditional love, what is it you're looking for?"
"Doc, let me ask you this: What else is there?"
"Fame."
"Right."
"I need to work out the whole fame thing."
"Would you say it's an infatuation?"
"Oh absolutely, doctor. Probably an obsession even."
"Okay, so what we could do--"
"You can help?"
"I can certainly try. All obsessions are rooted in--"
"So what are your ideas?"
"Well, again, we could find the root of--"
"Are we thinking a viral video?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Should I make a video and, like, really push it? Try to get it to go viral? I took this one of a puppy barking that old Wayne Newton song but--"
"Wait, stop. I'm confused. What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you're going to help me become famous, right? Isn't that why I'm here?"
"No. I'm going to help you deal with your obsession."
"...By helping me become famous."
"No."
"Well, why not?"
"Because that's not how you cure an obsession."
"Isn't an obsession an illness?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"Don't you usually prescribe medicine for an illness?"
"Of course."
"So then shouldn't you be helping me get famous? Wouldn't that be the cure for being obsessed with fame?"
"No, not--"
"I mean, if someone has cancer you give them cancer medicine, right?"
"We don't really call it 'cancer medicine' but--"
"So give me fame medicine. Fame being the medicine."
"Disregarding the fact that I have no idea how to make someone famous--"
"You better not be billing me for this."
"--Even if I did. You can't go through life being obsessed with fame."
"Why not? People go through life obsessed with all sorts of things. Then, once they get them, they're fine."
"That's not--"
"Women get obsessed with having children. Men get obsessed with women. Children get obsessed with toys. You give people what they want, and everybody's thrilled."
"But none of those things are what those people actually want. Women want to be feel appreciated. Men want to feel validated. Children--"
"--Like toys!"
"Fame will not stop you from wanting what it is you really want."
"Which is what?"
"It could be lots of things. Love--"
"Don't people love famous people?"
"That's not real love."
"I don't know. I think I really do love James Brolin."
"That doesn't--James Brolin? Really?"
"Sure, I'd like love. Who wouldn't? Fame will get me that."
"There's also...the urge to be remembered."
"Well people do tend to remember the famous. I remember James Brolin."
"Why wouldn't you remember him? He's still alive."
"And he always will be...in my heart."
"Anyone who finds themselves fascinated by fame is dealing with a problem that fame itself would not only not help, but probably exacerbate."
"What if I just want to get clapped at all the time and told I'm awesome?"
"You don't need to be famous for--okay, maybe the clapping, yeah."
"I know I shouldn't want it, but it could be worse. I could want drugs or alcohol or Brazilian hookers. I just want fame. That's not awful, right?"
"It's not...the worst thing."
"You never wanted it?"
"I wanted to help people."
"You could help people--if you were, like, a famous doctor."
"I could help you like I am now."
"I'd probably listen to you more more if you were famous."
"What is it about fame that appeals to you? Aside from the clapping and being told you're awesome and unconditional love, what is it you're looking for?"
"Doc, let me ask you this: What else is there?"
While Other People Work
While other people work
We have frisbee fights
And frisbee games
Casual and competitive
In the park
In the street
In front of our house
The weather's nicer now
Than it usually is
So why not take advantage?
Why use this time
To look for a job?
Jobs don't go anywhere
Jobs are jobs
They'll be there
When we're ready
But right now we can't focus
We scribble
We doodle
We draw on walls
We tell ourselves we can't afford to waste money
On fancy drawing pads
But the truth is
We're just too lazy
To put on pants
And go to the store
And come home
And check our bank account online
To see if our dad deposited
The latest check
Instead we spend the day
With frisbee
And leaf through giant coffee table books
About Mayan architecture
That came with the apartment
And all while other people work
We get lunch at small establishments
And make dinner at home
We snack and pack for trips
We're going to take
Because being unemployed
Is a tedious lifestyle
From which one must take
Many, many breaks
We go to interesting places
Where this is political unrest
And we go hiking
We do lots and lots of hiking
And take photos of ourselves
In marketplaces
As if we're characters out of 'Aladdin'
And somewhere, back home
Other people work
The other people working
Are our parents
And people like our parents
Who have dreams for their children
That don't include frisbee tournaments
Or bathrooms that get cleaned twice a year
Or a week of eating nothing but wild vegan rice
Dreams about ambition and progression
And nice suits
And direction
And careers
Instead we wake up everyday
Just as most people's lunch break is ending
And we fuck around
And watch tv
And finish a bag of something
Smoke a bag of something else
And wait for someone to tell us
What it is
We're supposed to do
And the whole time
We're feeling this sensation
This tingling
This lacking
Like something's going on
But we're not sure
Where it's happening
It's work
It's the work that's going on
Somewhere where we're not
And we feel it
And acknowledge it
And then grab our frisbee
And head outside
Into the late afternoon sun
We have frisbee fights
And frisbee games
Casual and competitive
In the park
In the street
In front of our house
The weather's nicer now
Than it usually is
So why not take advantage?
Why use this time
To look for a job?
Jobs don't go anywhere
Jobs are jobs
They'll be there
When we're ready
But right now we can't focus
We scribble
We doodle
We draw on walls
We tell ourselves we can't afford to waste money
On fancy drawing pads
But the truth is
We're just too lazy
To put on pants
And go to the store
And come home
And check our bank account online
To see if our dad deposited
The latest check
Instead we spend the day
With frisbee
And leaf through giant coffee table books
About Mayan architecture
That came with the apartment
And all while other people work
We get lunch at small establishments
And make dinner at home
We snack and pack for trips
We're going to take
Because being unemployed
Is a tedious lifestyle
From which one must take
Many, many breaks
We go to interesting places
Where this is political unrest
And we go hiking
We do lots and lots of hiking
And take photos of ourselves
In marketplaces
As if we're characters out of 'Aladdin'
And somewhere, back home
Other people work
The other people working
Are our parents
And people like our parents
Who have dreams for their children
That don't include frisbee tournaments
Or bathrooms that get cleaned twice a year
Or a week of eating nothing but wild vegan rice
Dreams about ambition and progression
And nice suits
And direction
And careers
Instead we wake up everyday
Just as most people's lunch break is ending
And we fuck around
And watch tv
And finish a bag of something
Smoke a bag of something else
And wait for someone to tell us
What it is
We're supposed to do
And the whole time
We're feeling this sensation
This tingling
This lacking
Like something's going on
But we're not sure
Where it's happening
It's work
It's the work that's going on
Somewhere where we're not
And we feel it
And acknowledge it
And then grab our frisbee
And head outside
Into the late afternoon sun
Montana
So the thing is, this isn't what I wanted
Admittedly, I mean--
It's not ideally what I was hoping for
When I set out on this path
Montana--you know?
Like, when you decide
When you're a kid
Or, like, not a kid
But like a--whatever
When you figure out
That theater--the arts--whatever
Is what you want to do
You kinda think--
Okay, so like, New York
London, Chicago, Los Angeles--for like the movies
But like also theater, who knows?
Or, Seattle Philadelphia just a--
Just, like, a city, you know?
Just a place where there's...art
Not that there isn't art in Montana
I'm sure there is!
It's just not what I--
And this job, I mean--
This whole teaching thing
At, like, a really prestigious private academy
It's, like, I mean--the money's going to be--
But, no, it's not what I originally thought of in terms of my future
But what am I going to do, you know?
NOT take the job?
NOT make money?
Not think about the fact that, like, I'm thirty-two years old
And opportunities
Other opportunities
Have not really presented themselves
At this point
So...
I mean, I know, as actors, we say--
Well, I have to do this
Because this is all I can do
This is all I love
This is it
And, you know, that's fine
Like, that's cool to--
Put on a poster or whatever
But at some point
If you really live like that
If you really live by that--creed, or whatever
You're, like, living in some shithole somewhere
Watching rats crawl out of your sofa
And you're not doing art or plays or whatever anyway
So what was the point of that, you know?
What was the point?
So I'm going to Montana
And I'm working at the school
And I'm teaching theater to kids
And it's something that's related to what
I initially thought I wanted to do anyway
So that's...great, right?
I mean, it's...
It's what's here
It's what's available to me
It's an opportunity
What am I supposed to do, you know?
What else am I supposed to do?
Admittedly, I mean--
It's not ideally what I was hoping for
When I set out on this path
Montana--you know?
Like, when you decide
When you're a kid
Or, like, not a kid
But like a--whatever
When you figure out
That theater--the arts--whatever
Is what you want to do
You kinda think--
Okay, so like, New York
London, Chicago, Los Angeles--for like the movies
But like also theater, who knows?
Or, Seattle Philadelphia just a--
Just, like, a city, you know?
Just a place where there's...art
Not that there isn't art in Montana
I'm sure there is!
It's just not what I--
And this job, I mean--
This whole teaching thing
At, like, a really prestigious private academy
It's, like, I mean--the money's going to be--
But, no, it's not what I originally thought of in terms of my future
But what am I going to do, you know?
NOT take the job?
NOT make money?
Not think about the fact that, like, I'm thirty-two years old
And opportunities
Other opportunities
Have not really presented themselves
At this point
So...
I mean, I know, as actors, we say--
Well, I have to do this
Because this is all I can do
This is all I love
This is it
And, you know, that's fine
Like, that's cool to--
Put on a poster or whatever
But at some point
If you really live like that
If you really live by that--creed, or whatever
You're, like, living in some shithole somewhere
Watching rats crawl out of your sofa
And you're not doing art or plays or whatever anyway
So what was the point of that, you know?
What was the point?
So I'm going to Montana
And I'm working at the school
And I'm teaching theater to kids
And it's something that's related to what
I initially thought I wanted to do anyway
So that's...great, right?
I mean, it's...
It's what's here
It's what's available to me
It's an opportunity
What am I supposed to do, you know?
What else am I supposed to do?
The Rules
You can touch it
You can touch it
But you can't look at it
And if, by some chance
You happen to look at it
You have to immediately look away
And not linger at all--on it
Okay?
Got that?
My boyfriend and I
Have set up these rules
So that we can have a healthy
Open relationship
Based on trust
So you can touch it
As long as he's not home
And you don't try
Putting your mouth on it
Or on any other part of me
Mouths aren't allowed
Like, at all
We can't kiss
Because kissing is intimate
And it's something
I reserve for my boyfriend
But if you want me to go down on you
That's totally fine
I mean, you can't go down on me
But I can go down on you
It's like, a whole, negotiation thing
That I worked out with my boyfriend
Because he wanted to let guys kiss his ears
Which I wasn't really cool with
Because ears are, like, our thing
But I was, like, okay fine
But I get to put my mouth on things
And he was like, okay fine
So now I can put my mouth on pretty much any part of you
Except for feet
Because that's gross
Like, if I even see your feet
I'll probably throw up on them
And that's not even a rule
That's just, like, a thing
I have with myself
Also, we can't eat together
Or talk, really
Aside from like--'Hey'
And--'Take your pants off'
Also, a tv can't be on
I can't get into a car with you at any point
And if you're tender with me in any way
I have to immediately send you home
Shower, burn the sheets
And then delete your number in my phone
These are the rules
They're the only thing
That prevent a perfectly good,
If slightly unconventional, relationship
From falling into complete chaos
So--
Ready to have a good time?
You can touch it
But you can't look at it
And if, by some chance
You happen to look at it
You have to immediately look away
And not linger at all--on it
Okay?
Got that?
My boyfriend and I
Have set up these rules
So that we can have a healthy
Open relationship
Based on trust
So you can touch it
As long as he's not home
And you don't try
Putting your mouth on it
Or on any other part of me
Mouths aren't allowed
Like, at all
We can't kiss
Because kissing is intimate
And it's something
I reserve for my boyfriend
But if you want me to go down on you
That's totally fine
I mean, you can't go down on me
But I can go down on you
It's like, a whole, negotiation thing
That I worked out with my boyfriend
Because he wanted to let guys kiss his ears
Which I wasn't really cool with
Because ears are, like, our thing
But I was, like, okay fine
But I get to put my mouth on things
And he was like, okay fine
So now I can put my mouth on pretty much any part of you
Except for feet
Because that's gross
Like, if I even see your feet
I'll probably throw up on them
And that's not even a rule
That's just, like, a thing
I have with myself
Also, we can't eat together
Or talk, really
Aside from like--'Hey'
And--'Take your pants off'
Also, a tv can't be on
I can't get into a car with you at any point
And if you're tender with me in any way
I have to immediately send you home
Shower, burn the sheets
And then delete your number in my phone
These are the rules
They're the only thing
That prevent a perfectly good,
If slightly unconventional, relationship
From falling into complete chaos
So--
Ready to have a good time?
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Paulina at a Sex Toy Party
Okay, okay!
Settle down, sluts and weirdos
It's time for Paulina's sex toy party!
I have taken my toes on the road
Because, due to hard economy
Paulina's Palace of Porn was forced to close down
And when I say 'hard economy'
I mean INS showed up
And Paulina was missing her mean card
Although if you ask my former customers
They can vouch for me that I am the mean
Anyhoodle, that's another whore for a different shoe
Here today, we are celebrating sexuality at home
Because most of you Americans
Are too fat
To fit on the street corners
Where you used to peddle your booshnitas
To men named John
Why men named John like sex with sluts so much?
My brother was named John
All he did was lick candles
And spend too much time
In the llama pen
I sold him to a gypsy
For three kopecks
After my parents died
So I could buy a loaf of bread
Was like that book
The Miserable Lesbian
Except without all the singing
NOW--Who wants to try Paulina's New At-Home-Slut-Kit?
In it you will find--
Booshnita Cream
You place it on your booshnita
And it will burn so badly
You will immediately remember what childbirth was like
And so you will never whoo-whoo again
Very popular with the Catholics
Also, we have pinunu rings
When inserted on the pinunu
The ring gives off eclectic shock
That makes man understand childbirth
And the immediately kill himself
Very popular with the wives of Catholics
Finally, I have 'Make Your Own Filthy Sex Tape' package
It comes with handcuffs
A vidjo-camera
And a cardboard cut-out
Of Joseph Stalin
Guaranteed to excite
Even the most frigid woman
Now, who wants to play sex party games?
I brought my teaser
So that we could play my favorite:
The Naughty Capitalist Who Gets Teasered By the Prison Guard
Just talking about it
Is stirring my koshfiva
Luckily, I have a cream for that as well
So fill out your order forms
And remember
I'm also available for traditional Russian birthday parties
Where we shoot the clown
And make the pony pull a cart
Across the barren field
Ugh, how I miss the old country
Okay, sluts
Show me the honey!
Settle down, sluts and weirdos
It's time for Paulina's sex toy party!
I have taken my toes on the road
Because, due to hard economy
Paulina's Palace of Porn was forced to close down
And when I say 'hard economy'
I mean INS showed up
And Paulina was missing her mean card
Although if you ask my former customers
They can vouch for me that I am the mean
Anyhoodle, that's another whore for a different shoe
Here today, we are celebrating sexuality at home
Because most of you Americans
Are too fat
To fit on the street corners
Where you used to peddle your booshnitas
To men named John
Why men named John like sex with sluts so much?
My brother was named John
All he did was lick candles
And spend too much time
In the llama pen
I sold him to a gypsy
For three kopecks
After my parents died
So I could buy a loaf of bread
Was like that book
The Miserable Lesbian
Except without all the singing
NOW--Who wants to try Paulina's New At-Home-Slut-Kit?
In it you will find--
Booshnita Cream
You place it on your booshnita
And it will burn so badly
You will immediately remember what childbirth was like
And so you will never whoo-whoo again
Very popular with the Catholics
Also, we have pinunu rings
When inserted on the pinunu
The ring gives off eclectic shock
That makes man understand childbirth
And the immediately kill himself
Very popular with the wives of Catholics
Finally, I have 'Make Your Own Filthy Sex Tape' package
It comes with handcuffs
A vidjo-camera
And a cardboard cut-out
Of Joseph Stalin
Guaranteed to excite
Even the most frigid woman
Now, who wants to play sex party games?
I brought my teaser
So that we could play my favorite:
The Naughty Capitalist Who Gets Teasered By the Prison Guard
Just talking about it
Is stirring my koshfiva
Luckily, I have a cream for that as well
So fill out your order forms
And remember
I'm also available for traditional Russian birthday parties
Where we shoot the clown
And make the pony pull a cart
Across the barren field
Ugh, how I miss the old country
Okay, sluts
Show me the honey!
Staircase in Decay
You can't get to the second floor
Which is a shame
Because it's lovely up there
It's just lovely
Of course, I'm speaking from past experience
From years ago
Before the staircase was in decay
When you could go up and down
Without even thinking about it
Without a second thought
So for all I know
It could be revolting up there now
I mean, the staircase is in decay
So I suppose the second floor could be as well
After all, nobody's been up there
So nobody's been cleaning
Or dusting
Or taking down the curtains
Or emptying the water in the fountain
Yes, there was a fountain
Two fountains, actually
Now that I think about it
And a petting zoo
Of course, the animals are probably all dead now
Most of them were dead to begin with
So I imagine they're all still dead
There was a miniature train
And a miniature train village
And a life-sized dump truck
That probably feels very fat
Amongst all that miniature hodgepodge
Oh, and then there's the jar of money
Several jars, actually
At least fourteen or fifteen
And that's not even including
The wall of money
It's just a wall
Made out of money
Often we used to say
When someone would want to borrow money
We'd say--
What do you think I have--a money wall?
And then we'd remember
That we did have a money wall
And we'd go to it
And give the money
To whomever asked for it
With all that money
I suppose I could buy a ladder
And climb up and down
Between the second floor and here
But that just seems
Like an awful lot of trouble
And also, my religion prevents me
From touching anything with rungs
I don't know what has rungs
Besides a ladder
But if I ever find anything
I'm not allowed to touch it
One day, before I die
I'll figure out another way
To get up to the second floor
Or maybe repair the staircase
That's in decay
And once I get up there
Maybe I'll be able
To figure out a way
To get to the third floor
Now that would be something
Because the third floor is--
Well, all I'll say is
It's really something
Which is a shame
Because it's lovely up there
It's just lovely
Of course, I'm speaking from past experience
From years ago
Before the staircase was in decay
When you could go up and down
Without even thinking about it
Without a second thought
So for all I know
It could be revolting up there now
I mean, the staircase is in decay
So I suppose the second floor could be as well
After all, nobody's been up there
So nobody's been cleaning
Or dusting
Or taking down the curtains
Or emptying the water in the fountain
Yes, there was a fountain
Two fountains, actually
Now that I think about it
And a petting zoo
Of course, the animals are probably all dead now
Most of them were dead to begin with
So I imagine they're all still dead
There was a miniature train
And a miniature train village
And a life-sized dump truck
That probably feels very fat
Amongst all that miniature hodgepodge
Oh, and then there's the jar of money
Several jars, actually
At least fourteen or fifteen
And that's not even including
The wall of money
It's just a wall
Made out of money
Often we used to say
When someone would want to borrow money
We'd say--
What do you think I have--a money wall?
And then we'd remember
That we did have a money wall
And we'd go to it
And give the money
To whomever asked for it
With all that money
I suppose I could buy a ladder
And climb up and down
Between the second floor and here
But that just seems
Like an awful lot of trouble
And also, my religion prevents me
From touching anything with rungs
I don't know what has rungs
Besides a ladder
But if I ever find anything
I'm not allowed to touch it
One day, before I die
I'll figure out another way
To get up to the second floor
Or maybe repair the staircase
That's in decay
And once I get up there
Maybe I'll be able
To figure out a way
To get to the third floor
Now that would be something
Because the third floor is--
Well, all I'll say is
It's really something
Galaxy Grass
Here's where the grasshoppers lie
In the galaxy grass by the ferns
Waiting for a ship to come
And take them back
Here's where the dogs run wild
And ready for battle
Against the Fire Hydrants
Rising up from the ground
Hush, little child
Don't make a sound
We'll be safe here in the Galaxy Grass
Provided you're from Earth
And haven't been telling me tales
We won't fail to see amazing sights
At least one of these nights
In the Galaxy Grass
Blue dresses are worn here
And red baseball caps
And people speak
In a different way
You can hear it already
How my words want to play
There aren't any vegetables
No homework
No naps
Here you'll be stunned
When you sit in my lap
And see deer turn to statues
And statues to deer
I promise there isn't a place
Like this here
The stars come to visit
And they play with the mice
They find that the mice
Enjoying playing nice
The cats all prefer
To spend time with the moon
Because the moon can make animals
Out of balloons
And everyone here
Talks in rhyme
Or in verse
Though the structure may vary
Just to keep the verse terse
In the Galaxy Grass
Only grass grows
I'd tell you why
But nobody knows
It might be because
Grown-ups turn the grass gray
Because grown-ups aren't fun
And they don't like to play
Oh sure, this grown-up does
But the grass won't believe it
For other mean grown-ups
Have tried to deceive it
So sit here and watch
And then maybe one day
I'll let you go run through the grass
And you'll play
Through the dogs and the hydrants
The cats and the mice
You might lie with the grasshoppers
Heck, you might lie twice
And I'll watch
And I'll wait
For you to return
I'll watch while you wonder
And plunder
And learn
And I'll think back
To when it was my turn
And my grandparents brought me
Out here by the ferns
They looked like I look
And they smiled like I smile
And they waited for me
I was gone quite awhile
And when I came back
They asked if I had fun
And I said 'Yes--
But I'm sad that it's done'
And they told me one day
I'd come back again
With a kid of my own
And that would be when
I'd understand
How they felt
On that wonderful night
Left out, but happy
To re-see that light
Lit up in somebody else's small eyes
Near the ferns
In the grass
Where the grasshoppers lie
In the galaxy grass by the ferns
Waiting for a ship to come
And take them back
Here's where the dogs run wild
And ready for battle
Against the Fire Hydrants
Rising up from the ground
Hush, little child
Don't make a sound
We'll be safe here in the Galaxy Grass
Provided you're from Earth
And haven't been telling me tales
We won't fail to see amazing sights
At least one of these nights
In the Galaxy Grass
Blue dresses are worn here
And red baseball caps
And people speak
In a different way
You can hear it already
How my words want to play
There aren't any vegetables
No homework
No naps
Here you'll be stunned
When you sit in my lap
And see deer turn to statues
And statues to deer
I promise there isn't a place
Like this here
The stars come to visit
And they play with the mice
They find that the mice
Enjoying playing nice
The cats all prefer
To spend time with the moon
Because the moon can make animals
Out of balloons
And everyone here
Talks in rhyme
Or in verse
Though the structure may vary
Just to keep the verse terse
In the Galaxy Grass
Only grass grows
I'd tell you why
But nobody knows
It might be because
Grown-ups turn the grass gray
Because grown-ups aren't fun
And they don't like to play
Oh sure, this grown-up does
But the grass won't believe it
For other mean grown-ups
Have tried to deceive it
So sit here and watch
And then maybe one day
I'll let you go run through the grass
And you'll play
Through the dogs and the hydrants
The cats and the mice
You might lie with the grasshoppers
Heck, you might lie twice
And I'll watch
And I'll wait
For you to return
I'll watch while you wonder
And plunder
And learn
And I'll think back
To when it was my turn
And my grandparents brought me
Out here by the ferns
They looked like I look
And they smiled like I smile
And they waited for me
I was gone quite awhile
And when I came back
They asked if I had fun
And I said 'Yes--
But I'm sad that it's done'
And they told me one day
I'd come back again
With a kid of my own
And that would be when
I'd understand
How they felt
On that wonderful night
Left out, but happy
To re-see that light
Lit up in somebody else's small eyes
Near the ferns
In the grass
Where the grasshoppers lie
Not Helpful
I realize what you're saying
And I recognize that it's true
What you're saying is truthful
It's full of truth
It's true
BUT
It's not helpful
Now, I--believe me
I--am very sad
Very, very, sad
That we have reached a point
Where hearing the truth
Is no longer helpful to us
Where the truth itself
Is no longer helpful
But the fact is
At some point
I'm going to have to go to corporate
I'm going to have to
Go to them
And tell them
Something helpful
And the truth, in this case
Is not going to help
It's not going to help them
It's not going to help the company
It's certainly not going to help me
So we need to set aside the truth
And come up with something else
That can help explain
Why we're in
The situation we're in
Now, we don't need to lie
We don't want to lie
We just want to come up with something
That is related to
Or pertains to
Or resembles
The truth
But is not actually the truth
Because the truth
At this juncture
Is a little hard to swallow
And swallowing
In this industry
Is very important
We want whatever we
--And by we I mean 'I'--
--Give corporate
To go down
Really smooth
And the truth is spiky right now
It's spiky and it has harsh edges
And it tastes like--
Well, it tastes bad
So let's come up with something
That's truth-ish
But not really the truth
But isn't a lie
But is a productive, effective solution
To a problem
That we're not really admitting
We have
Got it?
Great
So...
Any ideas?
And I recognize that it's true
What you're saying is truthful
It's full of truth
It's true
BUT
It's not helpful
Now, I--believe me
I--am very sad
Very, very, sad
That we have reached a point
Where hearing the truth
Is no longer helpful to us
Where the truth itself
Is no longer helpful
But the fact is
At some point
I'm going to have to go to corporate
I'm going to have to
Go to them
And tell them
Something helpful
And the truth, in this case
Is not going to help
It's not going to help them
It's not going to help the company
It's certainly not going to help me
So we need to set aside the truth
And come up with something else
That can help explain
Why we're in
The situation we're in
Now, we don't need to lie
We don't want to lie
We just want to come up with something
That is related to
Or pertains to
Or resembles
The truth
But is not actually the truth
Because the truth
At this juncture
Is a little hard to swallow
And swallowing
In this industry
Is very important
We want whatever we
--And by we I mean 'I'--
--Give corporate
To go down
Really smooth
And the truth is spiky right now
It's spiky and it has harsh edges
And it tastes like--
Well, it tastes bad
So let's come up with something
That's truth-ish
But not really the truth
But isn't a lie
But is a productive, effective solution
To a problem
That we're not really admitting
We have
Got it?
Great
So...
Any ideas?
The Last Place on Earth
We haven't gotten cancer yet
But we're anticipating it
Like many other things
We only just got hurricanes
A month ago
But we'd read up on them
So we were fairly prepared
As prepared as you can be
When every structure on your island
Is made of straw and coconut husk
All of this may sound strange to you
But then again, maybe not
You see, we're the last place on Earth
To get pretty much everything
You read about places like us in books
'Such-and-such a place didn't have polio
Until a hundred years after the rest of the world...'
That's what we're like
A tropical place
Waiting for every awful thing in the world
To land on our shores
We had thousands of years
Of nothing
No stress
No trouble
No disease or famine
Crime or malcontent
But that's slowly ending
And to be honest
We're relieved
You see, when you live in a place
Where nothing's wrong
All you do is worry
About the day when something will go wrong
Because you understand
That the longer you go without trouble
The bigger the trouble will be
When it finally arrives
It made us all
Incredibly ill-tempered
Often you'd see someone walking along the beach
On a beautiful day
And you'd say--'Gorgeous day, isn't it?'
And they'd shake their head and respond--
'Boy, we're really going to get it one of these days'
And you'd know they were right
And it would just ruin
Your whole day
And no, there wasn't any disease
But people were dying of heart attacks
Brought upon by the stress that comes
From waiting for disease
When nobody you know has ever died from anything but old age
You start to imagine how bad it must be
To die in other ways
And pretty soon
Rumors start
And before you know it
Your grandfather is convinced
That he's going to be the first person
To die from malaria
And he's telling you that he heard from your cousin
That when you get malaria
You turn into a giant lizard
With blue genitalia
And good luck convincing him otherwise
So when the hurricane hit
We were all so relieved
Finally, something bad had happened
Now we can all relax
Paradise is lovely
But knowing it won't always be paradise
And waiting around
For that shift to happen
Well, believe me
That's hell on Earth
But we're anticipating it
Like many other things
We only just got hurricanes
A month ago
But we'd read up on them
So we were fairly prepared
As prepared as you can be
When every structure on your island
Is made of straw and coconut husk
All of this may sound strange to you
But then again, maybe not
You see, we're the last place on Earth
To get pretty much everything
You read about places like us in books
'Such-and-such a place didn't have polio
Until a hundred years after the rest of the world...'
That's what we're like
A tropical place
Waiting for every awful thing in the world
To land on our shores
We had thousands of years
Of nothing
No stress
No trouble
No disease or famine
Crime or malcontent
But that's slowly ending
And to be honest
We're relieved
You see, when you live in a place
Where nothing's wrong
All you do is worry
About the day when something will go wrong
Because you understand
That the longer you go without trouble
The bigger the trouble will be
When it finally arrives
It made us all
Incredibly ill-tempered
Often you'd see someone walking along the beach
On a beautiful day
And you'd say--'Gorgeous day, isn't it?'
And they'd shake their head and respond--
'Boy, we're really going to get it one of these days'
And you'd know they were right
And it would just ruin
Your whole day
And no, there wasn't any disease
But people were dying of heart attacks
Brought upon by the stress that comes
From waiting for disease
When nobody you know has ever died from anything but old age
You start to imagine how bad it must be
To die in other ways
And pretty soon
Rumors start
And before you know it
Your grandfather is convinced
That he's going to be the first person
To die from malaria
And he's telling you that he heard from your cousin
That when you get malaria
You turn into a giant lizard
With blue genitalia
And good luck convincing him otherwise
So when the hurricane hit
We were all so relieved
Finally, something bad had happened
Now we can all relax
Paradise is lovely
But knowing it won't always be paradise
And waiting around
For that shift to happen
Well, believe me
That's hell on Earth
A Ninja at Sunset
A. fell upon his sword
When he was twenty-two years old
That was forty years ago now
Back when the lilac
Could be mixed with something
Something that tasted like honey
And when you fed it to a man
He'd be dead in ten seconds
And the last three seconds
Would be filled with unbearable sadness
So that he'd welcome death
Like an old lover
Back into bed
A. fell upon his sword
Because Iza didn't love him
Never did
Never would
And once he realized this
He decided he would go
And he wouldn't go quietly
With tainted lilac wine
That was back when a broken heart
Was what you died for
And your country
Was what you died for
And honor
Was what you protected
And if you couldn't
You died for that too
You killed yourself
In theatrical ways
To prove a point
To stir emotion
To inspire others
To let the world know
That a great life
Was being exterminated
In a great way
Because it was a great cause
For which you died
None of that anymore
No nobility, no honor
No swords even
Just rocking chairs
And sunsets
He lights a candle for A.
And says a prayer
The wind whistles a prayer back at him
But he bats it away like a house fly
He doesn't need nature's prayer
Nature has been cruel to him
Drooping his eyes, bending his hands
Making everything an effort
Everything a chore, a task
Something impossible
He looks at his hands
And thinks of the men
Who died by them
Most bad, some good
These were hands
That determined life
And now they can barely open a door
Or button a shirt
He should have gone the way of A.
Even without a girl to break his heart
There were enough reasons
To end it all early
After a certain age
The bad guys stopped growing mustaches
The good guys stopped telling bad jokes
And the women were no longer interested
In men who fought
They wanted poets instead
Poets and pacifists
And so a ninja was passe
That was when the sword should have called to him
Called and said--
'Come lay down. Let's put this all to rest'
He rocks in his rocking chair
He closes his eyes
The wind whistles
He writes a poem
Behind his eyes
That will never see paper
And from around the corner
Another old man waits
With sword in hand
To do something
He should have done
Years ago...
When he was twenty-two years old
That was forty years ago now
Back when the lilac
Could be mixed with something
Something that tasted like honey
And when you fed it to a man
He'd be dead in ten seconds
And the last three seconds
Would be filled with unbearable sadness
So that he'd welcome death
Like an old lover
Back into bed
A. fell upon his sword
Because Iza didn't love him
Never did
Never would
And once he realized this
He decided he would go
And he wouldn't go quietly
With tainted lilac wine
That was back when a broken heart
Was what you died for
And your country
Was what you died for
And honor
Was what you protected
And if you couldn't
You died for that too
You killed yourself
In theatrical ways
To prove a point
To stir emotion
To inspire others
To let the world know
That a great life
Was being exterminated
In a great way
Because it was a great cause
For which you died
None of that anymore
No nobility, no honor
No swords even
Just rocking chairs
And sunsets
He lights a candle for A.
And says a prayer
The wind whistles a prayer back at him
But he bats it away like a house fly
He doesn't need nature's prayer
Nature has been cruel to him
Drooping his eyes, bending his hands
Making everything an effort
Everything a chore, a task
Something impossible
He looks at his hands
And thinks of the men
Who died by them
Most bad, some good
These were hands
That determined life
And now they can barely open a door
Or button a shirt
He should have gone the way of A.
Even without a girl to break his heart
There were enough reasons
To end it all early
After a certain age
The bad guys stopped growing mustaches
The good guys stopped telling bad jokes
And the women were no longer interested
In men who fought
They wanted poets instead
Poets and pacifists
And so a ninja was passe
That was when the sword should have called to him
Called and said--
'Come lay down. Let's put this all to rest'
He rocks in his rocking chair
He closes his eyes
The wind whistles
He writes a poem
Behind his eyes
That will never see paper
And from around the corner
Another old man waits
With sword in hand
To do something
He should have done
Years ago...
A Walk on the Dunes
You get sand in your nostrils
That's the first thing
Sand in your nostrils
Not in your eyes
Despite what they say
They being people
Who have never actually
Set forth in between the dunes here
'Stead they sit on those outdoor patios
In the restaurants
By the man-made pools
Bounce around from hotel to hotel
Saying 'We're adventuring!'
'We're living wild!'
'Look at us!'
Fuckin' prigs
I have sand in my nose
I have sand in my eyes
I have sand in my blood
Not to be too damn poetic about it
But they don't know life out here
Unless someone slips it into their Saharan Cosmo
My father used to take me out here
Make me build a canvas
Out of the shirt I was wearing
And when the sandstorm would hit
He'd stand there
With his arms outstretched
Like he was a boat
Going into a big wave
And no matter how loud it got
I could hear him laugh
And when it was all over
I'd have dirt pouring out of my mouth
Actually coming out of my mouth
Like I was throwing it up
And he looked as clean
As if he'd just popped out of a bath
That's how I knew
My father had courage
He transcended his physical surroundings
Just by drowning himself in them
Sorry, that was a bit poetical
You get any sand up near your billy's yet?
Don't worry
You will
But that's all just the cost of courage
Discomfort, and whatnot
All that's what builds you up
On the way back home
After we'd spent days out in the desert
I'd be walking slow
My feet burnt
My legs tired
And my Dad would say
'I'm proud of you, boy'
And I'd say--
'Because I'm a man?'
And he'd say--
'Of course you're not a man!
A snake went over your foot
While you were sleeping
And you wet yourself
And screamed like a birthing camel--
--BUT,' he'd continue
Putting his hand on my shoulder
'You're on your way to something
And that's a very good thing to be'
Then we'd walk on the dunes
And eat black market cherries
He'd picked up before we left
And hid from me the whole trip
We'd eat and we'd walk on the dunes
And I remember the cherries tasting funny
But maybe it's because
We'd been eating nothing but cactus skin
For days
Or maybe it was because
They were being eaten by someone
Who could appreciate the feeling
Of brilliant relief
In a place so banal and dry
For the very first time
Watch yourself over that next dune there
I get the feeling
We could be running into a group
Of desert gypsies
Or we might hit one of those hotels
Or something else entirely
My father used to say
That's the best part
About coming up
Over a dune
You never really know
What's on the other side
That's the first thing
Sand in your nostrils
Not in your eyes
Despite what they say
They being people
Who have never actually
Set forth in between the dunes here
'Stead they sit on those outdoor patios
In the restaurants
By the man-made pools
Bounce around from hotel to hotel
Saying 'We're adventuring!'
'We're living wild!'
'Look at us!'
Fuckin' prigs
I have sand in my nose
I have sand in my eyes
I have sand in my blood
Not to be too damn poetic about it
But they don't know life out here
Unless someone slips it into their Saharan Cosmo
My father used to take me out here
Make me build a canvas
Out of the shirt I was wearing
And when the sandstorm would hit
He'd stand there
With his arms outstretched
Like he was a boat
Going into a big wave
And no matter how loud it got
I could hear him laugh
And when it was all over
I'd have dirt pouring out of my mouth
Actually coming out of my mouth
Like I was throwing it up
And he looked as clean
As if he'd just popped out of a bath
That's how I knew
My father had courage
He transcended his physical surroundings
Just by drowning himself in them
Sorry, that was a bit poetical
You get any sand up near your billy's yet?
Don't worry
You will
But that's all just the cost of courage
Discomfort, and whatnot
All that's what builds you up
On the way back home
After we'd spent days out in the desert
I'd be walking slow
My feet burnt
My legs tired
And my Dad would say
'I'm proud of you, boy'
And I'd say--
'Because I'm a man?'
And he'd say--
'Of course you're not a man!
A snake went over your foot
While you were sleeping
And you wet yourself
And screamed like a birthing camel--
--BUT,' he'd continue
Putting his hand on my shoulder
'You're on your way to something
And that's a very good thing to be'
Then we'd walk on the dunes
And eat black market cherries
He'd picked up before we left
And hid from me the whole trip
We'd eat and we'd walk on the dunes
And I remember the cherries tasting funny
But maybe it's because
We'd been eating nothing but cactus skin
For days
Or maybe it was because
They were being eaten by someone
Who could appreciate the feeling
Of brilliant relief
In a place so banal and dry
For the very first time
Watch yourself over that next dune there
I get the feeling
We could be running into a group
Of desert gypsies
Or we might hit one of those hotels
Or something else entirely
My father used to say
That's the best part
About coming up
Over a dune
You never really know
What's on the other side
The Dry Cleaning Shop
Pop works all night
At the dry cleaning shop
Rereading magazines
Counting the change
Taking up time
And button-down shirts
In his hands
Waiting for folks to walk in
And say hi
On a Saturday night
He never asks me to work there
Instead he says 'Go out'
Go have fun
That's my father
Go out
Have fun
And when you grow up
Don't open a dry cleaning shop
Do something better than this
Mom says he can't keep this up forever
He gets tired
He forgets things
And he can't afford to hire help
So that means
Maybe I should pick up some nights
A Friday here or there
Help him run the place a little
But my Dad says 'No' to this
'And where does that end?' --- he asks
'First it's two nights, then three
Then every other weekend
Then every weekend
And pretty soon
His whole life is this shop'
'No,' he says, 'No'
And goes back to rereading
One of his old magazines
Licking the tip of his finger
As he turns the page
Giving away the shake in his hands
I go out because Dad tells me to
But I come back early
And visit the shop
Find him sleeping at the counter
The cash drawer closed, thank god
I help him into my car
Buckle him in the front seat
Then spend the next half hour
Shutting down the shop
We drive home
And Mom helps me
Get him up the stairs
The next day I open the shop myself--alone
And he says nothing
Only asks me when I get back
How business was
'Slow, Dad,' I say, 'Business is slow'
He nods
And opens up the newspaper
In front of him
At the breakfast table
To find out what's been happening
While he's been gone
At the dry cleaning shop
Rereading magazines
Counting the change
Taking up time
And button-down shirts
In his hands
Waiting for folks to walk in
And say hi
On a Saturday night
He never asks me to work there
Instead he says 'Go out'
Go have fun
That's my father
Go out
Have fun
And when you grow up
Don't open a dry cleaning shop
Do something better than this
Mom says he can't keep this up forever
He gets tired
He forgets things
And he can't afford to hire help
So that means
Maybe I should pick up some nights
A Friday here or there
Help him run the place a little
But my Dad says 'No' to this
'And where does that end?' --- he asks
'First it's two nights, then three
Then every other weekend
Then every weekend
And pretty soon
His whole life is this shop'
'No,' he says, 'No'
And goes back to rereading
One of his old magazines
Licking the tip of his finger
As he turns the page
Giving away the shake in his hands
I go out because Dad tells me to
But I come back early
And visit the shop
Find him sleeping at the counter
The cash drawer closed, thank god
I help him into my car
Buckle him in the front seat
Then spend the next half hour
Shutting down the shop
We drive home
And Mom helps me
Get him up the stairs
The next day I open the shop myself--alone
And he says nothing
Only asks me when I get back
How business was
'Slow, Dad,' I say, 'Business is slow'
He nods
And opens up the newspaper
In front of him
At the breakfast table
To find out what's been happening
While he's been gone
Thursday, March 1, 2012
My Butler
My butler, Nigel Sampson
Is perhaps the most erotic man
I have ever met
In my life
Watching him clean my silverware
Is like witnessing
Someone lick the frosting
Off a statue
Of a naked woman
...While cleaning silverware
The way he handles
My forks...
I should introduce myself
My name is Miriam Slater
Four-time widow
One-time mourner
In addition to being intensely sexual
Nigel Sampson
Is also incredibly British
All my butlers have been British
Except for Sven
Who was Swedish
He was lost in the East Wing
And nobody's ever seen him again
Although I still believe
He probably burrowed his way out of the library
And is living safely in the pool house
Hahaha--I'm joking of course
I don't let the help
Stay in the pool house
Nigel never gets lost
He has an impeccable sense of direction
He knows his way around
Every inch of my...home
And he's got that brilliant accent
That only real British servants have
Is it any wonder
I've been having dreams
Where I'm living somewhere
That resembles Downtown Abbey
And then slowly, this throbbing music begins to play
From the nearest pantry
And the next thing I know
Nigel is there
And downstairs is upstairs
And upstairs is downstairs
And all rules of class
And society be damned!
We're in love!
And then I wake up
And no one's there
Just the pile of hundredsI keep next to my pillowAt all times
It comforts me
I could tell Harold
About my little crush
But I don't want to ruin what we have
A beautiful friendship
A beautiful, unique sort of friendship
Where I pay my friend
And he knows exactly
How I like my napkins folded
That kind of trust and respect
Comes along once in a lifetime
So I go on admiring from afar
And he goes polishing my spoons
And waxing my...
Well...
Some things should stay private
Don't you agree?
Is perhaps the most erotic man
I have ever met
In my life
Watching him clean my silverware
Is like witnessing
Someone lick the frosting
Off a statue
Of a naked woman
...While cleaning silverware
The way he handles
My forks...
I should introduce myself
My name is Miriam Slater
Four-time widow
One-time mourner
In addition to being intensely sexual
Nigel Sampson
Is also incredibly British
All my butlers have been British
Except for Sven
Who was Swedish
He was lost in the East Wing
And nobody's ever seen him again
Although I still believe
He probably burrowed his way out of the library
And is living safely in the pool house
Hahaha--I'm joking of course
I don't let the help
Stay in the pool house
Nigel never gets lost
He has an impeccable sense of direction
He knows his way around
Every inch of my...home
And he's got that brilliant accent
That only real British servants have
Is it any wonder
I've been having dreams
Where I'm living somewhere
That resembles Downtown Abbey
And then slowly, this throbbing music begins to play
From the nearest pantry
And the next thing I know
Nigel is there
And downstairs is upstairs
And upstairs is downstairs
And all rules of class
And society be damned!
We're in love!
And then I wake up
And no one's there
Just the pile of hundredsI keep next to my pillowAt all times
It comforts me
I could tell Harold
About my little crush
But I don't want to ruin what we have
A beautiful friendship
A beautiful, unique sort of friendship
Where I pay my friend
And he knows exactly
How I like my napkins folded
That kind of trust and respect
Comes along once in a lifetime
So I go on admiring from afar
And he goes polishing my spoons
And waxing my...
Well...
Some things should stay private
Don't you agree?
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