Thursday, July 30, 2009

Shalom, y'all

I work the next two days, the usual looooooong Friday & Saturday shifts, with the good news being that N & I fly to the homeland Sunday morning 6am (we get home from work 3/330 yikes--hurry, hurry!)--just enough time to hug & kiss all the animals & throw the bags in the car & get on outta here!

Georgia! It's going to be so good to see everyone & to introduce my sugar to the family. Hopefully I'll get to see some old friends. Mandy is going to have the cutest baby bump. We're going to the beach for two days! And...we're are going to do some eatin'!!!


Last weekend at the bar when someone asked where I was from I said southern Ga & that got us on the topic of Savannah (everybody knows Savannah) & then of course Missus Paula Deen, whom I, like most all southerners, LOVE. Well, this jerkface started to make fun of her & 'The Lady & Sons' cause it is a buffet, like a buffet is tacky or something, come on! I told him Paula Deen is a hero to us & that I didnt want to hear any bad talk of her; it was like this Yankee mother-f-er was insulting my Granny herself. And nobody insults my Granny! Speaking of, my Granny can cook! Below is an awesome pic of Paula Deen wearing one of her signature aprons, an apron that I bought for my very own Granny at Christmas when I visited Savannah & ate off that lovely buffet of hers.

What's more Americana than Sister Deen? Hoecakes, fried chicken, mac-n-cheese, collards, what!


Here's my sister & I with sister Paula:

(As you can see we're freakin delighted.)


If you have time & are wantin', you can check out her memoir Paula Deen, It Ain't All About the Cookin. Good stuff!

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

You goin' west come May / just stay the same (tim barry, wait at milano)

frank o'hara said in,
'to the film industry in crisis':

in times of crisis, we must all decide again and again whom we love.
and give credit where it's due: not to my starched nurse, who taught me
how to be bad and not bad rather than good (and has lately availed
herself of this information), not the catholic church
which is at best an oversolemn introduction to cosmic entertainment,
not to the american legion, which hates everybody, but to you,
glorious silver screen, tragic technicolor, amorous cinemascope,
stretching vistavision and startling stereophonicsound, with all
your heavenly dimensions and reverberations and iconoclasms!

my head has felt a lil all over the place lately. but, i have been thinking hard on what i love about art & writing & music & film. it's important to know what you like, exactly. i originally wanted to have a blog just to ramble on a bit about whatever was in my mind but haven't really done it too much. i wanna get to that more. i really love americana lately. the boss, whitman, ginsberg, something 'epic' feeling stretched, the very scope of experience stretched outwards. i love tim barry. i think along the lines of songwriter/subtle performer he is the next of the best, or is the best, or has been the best. below are the lyrics for 'avoiding catatonic surrender'--commentary on american experience pre-or at the cusp of war circa early-to-mid 00's. youtube has a bunch of his videos, but me being so bad with techn. i can't figure out how to load a video here. 'wait at milano' is superb. all of it, really.

Avoiding Catatonic Surrender, Tim Barry

It’s lonely in the Garden State, the place of no left turns

In a motel 6 in East Brunswick smoking till my lungs burn

I put ice in the trash can to cool down my beer

Breathe in the perfume in the room of the person last here

I can’t stand this singing

I can’t stand this song

I can’t stand being home, but I can’t stand being gone

My ears ring when it’s quiet and I ain’t hear a thing all day

And I’d call if I could but right now I ain’t got nothing to say

And so on

And so long

Can’t keep singing these songs

Too long

So on

First night we met we fucked on the couch in my living room

And spent the morning pretending it didn’t happen, searching for your lost phone

Which I found between the cushions below a pile of our clothes

You said you couldn’t leave without it, Lord, I should have kept my eyes closed

I left for work directly then for a fifteen hour day

Made just over a hundred bucks, none of which I ever saved

Didn’t hear too much from you before, never heard from you again

Cause as soon as this shit starts, boy it’s, it’s bound to end

And so on

And so long

Can’t keep singing these songs

Too long

And so on

I throw empty beer cans at the TV when I’m watching the news

I hate republicans, I hate democrats, I hate liberals too

I think pacifists are weak, and violence is wrong

But I go limp for police and I fight when it’s called for

The truth is I don’t know or care with who or where I fit in at all

But I keep on living simple, riding fast and living slow

I write standard boring songs with boring standard chords

Just like the best and the worst, verse chorus, verse chorus, bridge, repeat

And so on

So long

Can’t keep singing these songs

Too long

And so on

And so on

And so long

I can’t keep singing these songs

And so on

So on

Sunday, July 26, 2009


back in the days of the slide projector movie flat disk-thing, The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas was my most favorite flick as a wee lil' in ga. me & my sister & all my girl cousins would pile on granny's orange mess of a carpet & sing our most favorite chicken ranch songs. mine was always "hard candy christmas" sung by miss mona, sister dolly parton & all the girls in her lanvillle county brothel, right after sheriff dodd (burt reynolds) gives her the news she has to shut the ranch down:

Hey, maybe I'll dye my hair
Maybe I'll move somewhere
Maybe I'll get a car
Maybe I'll drive so far
They'll all lose track

Me, I'll bounce right back
Maybe I'll sleep real late
Maybe I'll lose some weight
Maybe I'll clear my junk
Maybe I'll just get drunk on apple wine
Me, I'll be just
Fine and Dandy
Lord it's like a hard candy christmas
I'm barely getting through tomorrow
But still I won't let
Sorrow bring me way down
I'll be fine and dandy
Lord it's like a hard candy christmas
I'm barely getting through tomorrow
But still I won't let
Sorrow get me way down
Hey, maybe I'll learn to sew
Maybe I'll just lie low
Maybe I'll hit the bars
Maybe I'll count the stars until dawn
Me, I will go on
Maybe I'll settle down
Maybe I'll just leave town
Maybe I'll have some fun
Maybe I'll meet someone
And make him mine
Me, I'll be just
Fine and dandy
Lord it's like a hard candy christmas
I'm barely getting through tomorrow
But still I won't let
Sorrow bring me way down
I'll be fine and dandy
Lord it's like a hard candy christmas
I'm barely getting through tomorrow
But still I won't let
Sorrow bring me way down

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

i handed it over yesterday at 2:26am, i'm officially done

i drank a bottle of wine. i hung out w/ my sugar in the backyard til 630 this morning. i got up at 5pm today. i feel kinda weird. i feel relief, for sure. i feel odd too though not like emptiness through & through. four years of work handed over. better get back to work.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Good Stuff

**Served in a collins, tall & lean:


1 1/2 ounces Cruzan Black Strap Rum

fill rest w/ Ginger Beer


garnish w/ lime wedge or wheel


Tuesday, July 14, 2009

lizard on the ledge; tues


so you're momentarily enchanted, and so the gables--
like bayonets--point to jet trails overhead

just when you think you've arrived, you have nothing
except fido: good old fido
who frisks against your calf and plays dead in the carport

or maybe you have your 2.3 kids, if your tubes aren't tied--
and why haven't your tubes been tied?

legacy of spittle and legacy of snot: fat emeralds, little gems
a fiefdom in the alveoli at the end of the congested trachea
where, home again from the desert, you might sleepwalk
in a ratty housecoat and a pair of standard issue clogs

where your flagpole shivers above the mailbox
and the postman, in his jeep, cheerfully avoids you

toys in the yard, little boys:
you must not mourn the next year or the next

d.a. powell. chronic.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Drunken Boat Features...(or atleast I say so)

Missus Mara Vahratian & Mister Michael Rerick have new poems up at Drunken Boat.

Today I burnt 4 years of bank & cc statements & stuff that has been needing to be shredded (but my shredder is a piece o' shit) in the backyard chiminea. Was fun!

Now, I'm cooking red beans & rice with chunky tomatoes mixed in, to pile upon a bed of x-ed greens. Dinner at 2am, okay then.

Thursday, July 9, 2009


Noah Saterstrom just released another Trickhouse. What!

I think Trickhouse is by far one of the most interesting on-line journals/art experiments out there.

Check out Heide Hatry's head sculpture concept pieces & then read Joanna Howard's writing...super-cool is an understatement.

Amy King & Ana Bozicevic extended an invitation to read in their Stain Series in Billyburg next year which I of course accepted. Thanks, ya'll, I'm excited.

Got a rejection today. First time I send out in over a year & I get rejected. Not fun.

It's laundry day.

Eli just left & N & I are pretty sad. He's on one couch looking sad. I'm on the other looking sad. To say we've had fun the past week would be too easy; we had a freakin blast. Yr missed Eli, for sure, come back soon!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

it was my birthday yesterday

3:00 in the morning blowin out candles. had the best birthday ever.
me & the brothers in tubac.

me & noah saterstrom. he's painting the cover for black-eyed heifer

my beautiful cake from neil. best ever!

Thursday, July 2, 2009


Bang trim day! Home Goods day! Target! Workout day! Housecleaning, N walks in the room with coffee so cute day! Day before Eli comes day! Day before I work two 10 shifts in a row day! Day I see the 1st publicity from Tarpaulin Sky Press for Black-Eyed Heifer day! Thanks to C Peet forever day! Thanks to Grita & Sasstrid, most awesome lala day! Most of all, Thursday, monsoooooooon day! Get it!