Warning: I was left alone at home with a stereo, beer, and paper...

“Too Much Bass”

The man said, “Too much
Bass!”
It was turned down.

“Shiny Part”

Giggle-go-giggle-smiggle
They found a shiny part.
The light reflects into their young and
Lonely eyes.
Smirk.


“You Can’t Have My Cat (even if you are left-handed)”

You can stand outside my home
Burn my trash
Cart signs to and fro...
Tell my sins to the High Confessor
[His hours are late]—

I dug up the black flowers
You planted in my garden.
I tasted the tomatoes you grew.
Red! Red! Red!
So (what), a red tomato means beans
When the inside tastes
Of ash.
My mouth is dry.
I try to spit/but it’s empty.
The general concurrence is
That...
Everyone (me especially) would
Be most pleased if you’d get
(the fuck)
Out of my yard—
No.
Wait.
Put him down first.

I mean it.
See, he is squirming.
I am squirming, too--Right out of my shoes.
It’s ok; you can squeeze my transgressions
Out the ass of a plane for all to see—


Just put the cat down.


“Premiere”

Closing his mouth is like the
little Dutch boy shoving his finger
Into the dike (except in this case)
It’s the business end of
A firehose and the whole
Town’s weight in water
Has a tale to tell.

(Listen)

The red carpet was thread-
Bare when the desert-paparazzi caught
His black-tie legs shoe shining
Out of the car.

He looked to applause the flashbulbs
With his syrup voice—[uh-oh]
Echoes hollow sound
And flashy quartz sidewalk
Glitter in the sun.

A chorus of ants.
A proscenium arch
(built of table salt)
Greasepaint grime
Smeared sweat into the beard.

Don’t hear.
Don’t hear/
Not here.
Listen.


“More Snare Drum”

The woman said, “That’s a mighty
Fine snare drum.”

“Bits and Pieces”

Limestone has bits and pieces
Uh-huh yeah.
Don’t shake. No.
Don’t vibrate. No.
If you move (no),
The dead shells of the years
Will kill, spill, thrill
the guys in that buil—
Ding.
Don’t move.
I mean it.

Amos asks and here is my answer. I bring my lunch, and it is the same nearly every day--sandrich (tuna salad or veggie-"meat" slab with cheese and maters), pretzels, carrots, and a piece of fruit. Occassionaly a scarf down a sweet thingy. I eat in my 4th period classroom, reading the paper or checking out the web. I am probably viewed as anti-social (and I certainly won't meet any women this way), but I really need that half an hour to get away from people.

Ok. I should be planning lessons and grading tests, but blogging is more fun, especially since there is a new forum! I just made my inaugural post to Hoosiers, and boy does talking about the boys in Cream and Crimson get my heart a-beatin'. Unfortunately, you can't tell that it is my post, coz I didn't do something right. But never fear, as I have alerted tanque.org HQ, and I am sure they will be on it soon.

Ned is absolutely correct about my new digs. I have found a lovely and charming place that carries with it all the rustic splendor of living in the woods, but is only 15 minutes away from downtown, and only 5 minutes from Bloomingfoods East.

Also of good fortune is Ned's reference to the Flaming Lips. A few weeks back, I heard "The Soft Bulletin" cd over at Phil's before one of our many intense D&D sessions. It struck me in a visceral manner, and I proceded to procure my own copy in the period soon afterward. Long have been the years since a single album has moved me with such strength and passion. The poignancy and urgent pleading of the songs, one after another, is the of sort that can be felt and touched. There is a precious humility to the project that is cleverly and without irony presented in lush orchestral grandeur. If I don't listen to it at least once in a day (which happens, unfortunely, as a result of my work), I feel cheated and forlorn. My message to you, my weblog friends: Buy this album. It is too good to be missing from one's collection.

Drums and Tuba is kewel 2.