LOVER

Pioneer Russian Cosmonaut

Yuri A. Gagarin is on my mind while I Google "#1 hand"

I want one like this made gigantic out of foam rubber to wear on my hand during the Hornets game I'll be going to with Meesh to eat hotdogs and drink beer out of our beer hats while we laugh at the lame-o's in the good seats and do the wave for Chris Anderson.

This is how I know how to get home at night

instead of signing incorrectly to the bus driver I just walk.

eureka

When I realized that much of what exists on the internet are LISTS (think about it) I shuddered with horror, like seeing your mother in your own hands. The List has become our preferred method of communication, perfect for quick jabs & impressions, an easy yet flashy way to seduce or baffle, to lord it over someone less "in the know", to bond w/someone who "thinks like you". It's the Snickers bar of intimacy - quick sugar rush, like what makes happy-hour sexy. It's here but it's passing quickly, it's well-lit, that ambiguously satisfying lie of not being alone when you don't want to be with anyone in particular. So I have to break the habit! I'm guilty, I'm an advocate! (Tho' the List as I've known it as handed down to me via Fork & Robert via Brian Moran is somewhat more abstract & ... creative? Dare I say?) What I gain from this realization is that I have to work through my fears of intimacy & committment (ie: complete sentences and then paragraphs!)

Twilight & I'm not in the pub I'm on the porch. All the lake birds are soaring, big strong crow just waved at me. I got mail today. The geranium's in full riotous yowl, hibiscus trumpeting, my fuschia is dripping her six lush blooms. I have 17 gladiolas coming up in the bed I made underneath my bedroom window. The peony & lily of the valley appear to be duds. Sunflowers, 3 fat ones, are fixing to bust. And the backyard is a tangle of passion-flowers. This lawn is dense with clover cuz I am a bad neighbor & don't cut it enough. (The mower's broke!)

Finished William Gibson's "Burning Chrome" shorts. Prefer the ones he wrote solo. They're like candy to me. It's always thrilling to read the formative beginnings of one of your favorite authors - to see the themes peeking out, the characters creaking away, shaking off the chrysalis. When I read "Memoirs From The House of The Dead" all of a sudden "Crime and Punishment" made that much more sense. A short story in the New Yorker can illuminate the path for a whole career.

Been at the lake every evening at twilight with the dog. That lake, it's ---- it's kindof just one thing. Not like Lake Superior or Michigan even. But I remain a stranger to Ponchatrain; I will return until I get a feel for her. I like living this close to the lake - tho' it's dangerous, with the hurricanes. I dream about renter's insurance.

I've begun Stanley Elkin's "The Magic Kingdom" and it's got me laughing with my eyes and hooked.

I think of C. and her realization that with a "no" there are things to gain, things that will present themselves to us as rewards, traces of the new path eeking outta the old forest. It's not like we'll be banished to the desert. "No." Even if all you gain is solitude. Solitude is sexy.

brother leaving Bangkok for Seoul

Elizabeth, I don't have a clue about where I am going, just going. Of course I have done my research, but it's all like trying to color a coloring book without an outline. I am hoping that I can swing it, make it,but who the hell knows! I will go to a school that has 25 teachers from S. Africa, England, America, Canada, New Zealand and they all think I join myself with George W. A shitty thing about being a YANK abroad is that people really want to fight with you and maybe hurt you. And it's not even Bush's thing. Could be Clinton or even Carter and everybody still says you are a Yank what the fuck is your problem?! They don't get that they are doing the same kind of stereotyping that they think Americans are guilty of. Even if I try to say, "Listen... I didn't vote for this wacko, nor did my sis, or family! Listen to my stance..." No way, they just hate me and this now goes beyond politics! People generally don't want to listen and it goes beyond politics. It's scary how closed ALL people are. Nobody wants to listen...But wait, this is not about politics... I am gonna go to this weird strange country and hope to make it, not get fired. I am gonna go to Korea and I am not trying to diminish your life there in the GREAT VIOLENT US, but I am SHITTING MY PANTS! But I am gonna go... So, none of this answers any of your questions so I am sorry. Does anyone remember Kerouac and the simple act of trying to find angels? You got them there. Making it in my own weird way, Love, Jim

Two Kissing Parrots, An Onion and a PineCone

- A brief moment of morning television gifted me with the sight of four grown adults sitting around a round coffee-table, clearly money-ied adults, morning talk-show personalities, sniffing, gazing at, holding and discussing a candle. It's name? "His Essence". It's supposed to smell like God.
- Faint silver flares
- Lake Ponchatrain at dusk
- Powdered sugar dougnut sugar daddy
- Very aggressive hookers
- $40 sushi
- 14 year old, trashed
- Is that mine? Silently.
- Big fat pickup coils
- Rebirthing queef (compliments of Andy D.)
- What's holding up Paradise Hills?
- Ohoho Gedama!
- Bunny covered coat
- "It's not over!" she hollered at me across the empty street, "I don't know what that means but it's true!"
- I don't want no big magic, I just want an Easter basket
- If we crave affirmation for the way we see things we are destined to be forever lonely
- I don't want to fall or live outside of Nature
- Oceanic experience
- Rasterizing!
- Home-base, if I was true
- What we gain when we say "no"
- "It feels like it's taken off, it doesn't feel like destruction," A. Goldsworthy
- Gotta get back to the Mosquito Eater
- I dropped the shotgun in my Nike bag and cushioned it with five pairs of tube socks.
- Blinking tears from my eyes
- Asparagus for breakfast
- William Gibson "Burning Chrome"
- O.V. Wright "Monkey Dog"
- The Rock-A-Hulas "Gonna Lose Control"
- Gail Anderson "My Turn Now"

Head Stake

Feeling ok, you know Easter was swell, recording was productive, the house is clean, feeling sad but ok thinking "I'm on it," driving to work all of a sudden the peripheral vision goes nuts it's the sign this is it, the old migraine, the three times a year migraine, must have been the HAM.

I'd much rather be writing about Andy Goldsworthy or Cremaster III or William Gibson or hell, Vincent D'Onorfio. But how do you do that when your body's gone cold, shaking, and the pain, the pain, it's enough to make me log out.

Jesus Died Today.

- But how, exactly?
- Quaffable
- Vest and no shirt
- a. Grenache b. Syrah c. Censault d. Mourvédre
- T. Garcón Blanc
- P. White
- They don't know, when the donkey lets loose
- One interminable kiss
- The #1 finger
- Tuesday's Gone With The Wind
- I know it. Let's go.
- Excuse me? So you're Theresa Anderson's manager? Nobody shushes the Monkey.
- We all tell ourselves we don't really want what we want when what we want is impossible.
- Gettin' it done under the gun!
- Lemons chard eggs water avocado
- Gon' make m'own damn basket
- The Cryin' Out Louds "Bloodhound"
- The Whippershills "Going To A Party"
- The Everly Brothers "Stick With Me Baby"

h h h

Easter bread, the little butter lamb with the red ribbon around his neck and the peppercorns for eyes, Easter baskets, red fingers, chocolate squirrils, chocolate eggs, eggs in the grass, eggs in bushes and branches, the bunny coming down the street (Mrs. Berent had a costume), knocking on the door, bunny knocking on the door! Bunny knocking on the door! Ham brown sugar crusted on top, potato salad, cole slaw, hot rolls, ginger ale, Uncles, that butter lamb, real butter, cutting into it, china, goblets, ice, coconut cake, resurrection Spring daffodils new dress new shoes new socks and panties and later, sated, jeans and barefeet, Spring grass, forsythia, peace.

plant is found to correct its own mutated gene

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sh h hiny hap py people!

Beauty is out there right at the door just waiting to insist insist! you come to dinner at the Windsor Court Hotel! Hinting that maybe that dad on the porch w/his bottle of bud in one hand & cig in the other shooing the kid away might be having what is always only his ONE beer and ONE cigarette after work and then it's gonna be balls out fun in the backyard I tell you what!

"Stay positive. It's your gift to humanity." JFU

Certainly the Maysles are interested in recording the Beales' very real life -- the ruined house crawling with cats and fleas, the paper bird in the rusty gilded cage, the mother and daughter quarreling -- but those are the film's most superficial elements. What draws the viewer in are the stories around what we cannot see: Miss Beale lamenting the loss of a scarf. The suitors turned away. Mrs. Beale's infatuation with a man whose minor musical talent is better remembered than heard. Money spent. The dream of New York on summer nights filled with jackhammers and the moon. Regrets and recriminations: the language of lovers, the fabric of family life.