the beat, man, the beat

Ok so I know I've been putting way too many poems on here lately, especially from other people more famous than I, but at least they're really good poems. For some reason Lawrence Ferlinghetti got stuck in my head today. Maybe it's the snow. And then I found this cool website with snippets of all the old beat poets. You know, Kerouac, Kesey, Bukowski and Burroughs. Maybe I'm getting ready for my spiritual roadtrip next weekend.. (that's next weekend already? wtf!)

21

Heaven
was only half as far that night
at the poetry recital
listening to the burnt phrases
When I heard the poet have
a rhyming erection
then look away with a
lost look
'Every animal' he said at last
'After intercourse is sad'
But the back-row lovers
looked oblivious
and glad

~ Lawrence Ferlinghetti

slow-dancing

the difference between slow-dancing and joining the crowd
is simply raising your right/left hand
the critic in the corner says
"less organ! more jazz!"
but smiles anyways knowing that
he'll try anything twice
especially if you have to pay for it.

12 hours

What a crazy weekend.
Rockabilly boys, lame crowds in Saskatoon, spontaneous road trips, lunar eclipse with a full moon in Scorpio, motels in Regina, Dr. Cutey-Pants Gonzo and his whole extended family, punk rock dancing boys, tequila straight from the bottle, 3 hrs of sleep, 3 wrong turns, and it takes 3 to tango. Black shirts, white shirts, cuffed jeans, and wife-beaters. Soft water, skin, and sheets. White bun turkey butter gas station sandwiches and orange ginger chicken wings, 100 pounds of coffee and cigarettes, and I've never felt better. But it doesn't end here folks, severely discounted tickets for Blue Rodeo and Matt Mays are on the plate for tomorrow night. Can ya keep up? Can ya? Huh?

it's official

It's official. I'm a DD. I can ignore the facts no more.
Yeesh. Big'uns, anyone?

The cinnamon peeler

If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
and leave the yellow bark dust
on your pillow.
Your breasts and shoulders would reek
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbour to your hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife.
I could hardly glance at you
before marriage
never touch you
-your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
I buried my hands
in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar
helped the honey gatherers...
When we swam once
I touched you in water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
You climbed the bank and said
this is how you touch other women
the grass cutter's wife, the lime burner's daughter
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume
and knew

what good is it
to be the lime burner's daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in the act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of a scar.

You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
peeler's wife. Smell me.

~ Michael Ondaatje

I want you to feel the way I do (the dress)

I want you to feel the way I do: There's barbed wire wrapped all around my head and my skin grates on my flesh from the inside. How can you be so comfortable only 5" to the left of me? I don't want to hear myself think, feel myself move. It's not that I want to be numb, I want to slip under your skin: I will listen for the sound you hear, feed on your thought, wear your clothes.
Now I have your attitude and you're not comfortable anymore.
Making them yours, you relieved me of my opinions, habits, impulses. I should be grateful but instead... you're beginning to irritate me: I am not going to live with myself inside your body, and I would rather practise being new on someone else.

~ Jana Sterbak

appearing tonight

some sunday fun for all you good boys and girls.
god bless.

Mothers and Mr. T.

Quite eerily like the Feist video...

they just don't make 'em like this anymore

Where can I find a tall handsome man in a speedo and a moustache?
That's what the world needs more of.

Happy Birthday Jensy!

Damn we're hot.

choices, choices, choices.

Jenn just sent me a list of shows that are playing in Vegas while we are there. How the hell do we choose? No seriously, how the hell do we choose? I suppose cost will figure into it somehow, but I would probably go see any of these shows if they came to Saskatoon.
Below, the list.

~Willie Nelson
~Engelbert Humperdinck
~Stevie Nicks
~Sean Paul
~George Clinton
~Third World
~Tom Jones
~Freddy Fender
~Three Dog Night

Help? I'll be taking the popular vote into consideration.

Walter

Part 11

Every night: just before he falls asleep
Walter coughs. Having never slept
in a room with another person, he thinks
that everybody coughs just before they fall
asleep. That's his world.

~ Richard Brautigan

this buddy's for you

A friend of mine recently decided to commit hara-kari on his blog for reasons we won't go into here. It made me pretty sad, so I googled his name to see what kind of pictures I could find. Who knew he was an accomplished photographer and comic-book artist as well? Ha ha.

go north carolina

Can you believe I watched this shit?
Miss Pennsylvania was my favourite,
though she didn't crack the top 5.

mario party

So, I'm babysitting my two cousins this weekend, staying at their place, feeding them suppers, the whole shebang. I guess technically it's not babysitting as they are not babies, more like teen and pre-teen watching. It's fun, though. Last night we all hunkered down for a while and played Mario Party, but I got my ass kicked (sheerly from lack of practise). I think we'll play again this afternoon if I don't fall over from getting up at 5:15am this morning. Who made the schedule for work? Oh right, I did...

cradle and all

breaking up is hard to do (nicely)

We're going to Vegas! And by we, I mean Miss Jennifer and myself.
4 nights, 5 days, some pool-hustling and maybe, just maybe,
a drive-in wedding chapel.

Let's just hope we don't run into this guy.



Yeesh. Testicles, anyone?

you said it, johnny

I'm in a bad fucking mood. Enough already. Get this day over with.

who are you?

sk.ca, who are you? you spend lots of time reading my life, mostly late at night/really early in the morning. You never comment, only take and make impressions from my privately public thoughts. If it's you, in the basement, late at night... please either stop or stand up and be counted.

Tomorrow

The man who repairs everything
will be here tomorrow. We will
tell him about the oven.
We will tell him about the purple
veins in the water, the milky
light, the bruised hibiscus.

He will take his tools out of his truck
and begin to repair everything.
When he is finished, we will say,
"Wait! There is more!" We will
ask him to repair our lives,
to fill up the intervals within them.

He will explain to us
how some faces are always luminous
in darkness, some flowers open
only to the moon. Then he will
get into his truck and drive away,
and we will know how easy it is
to live. We will be happy.

~ Richard Shelton