Lines from Months Afterwards
 

 
An attempt -- an attempt.
 
 
   
 
Friday, April 30, 2004
 
I See You Baby - Shakin that Ass

So I did a radio show and played David Bowie - Marty's post reminded me of such things - the song, "Let's Dance" of 80s new wave fame. And I made some comments about how everyone should shake their ass to the song -- whether at work or home, etc wherever. I said, "Even if you're in your cubicle, stick your head above it...and even if you see your boss coming, you should STILL be shakin your ass!" Put on your red shoes, I said. And eventually I got a call from a postman, saying that indeed he was shakin it in the fine streets of Nashville, and was scaring the pedestrians. How cool is that?

On another cool note - finished my Postmetaphysics, Politics, and Poetry paper. Kickin ass and taking names.

Also, apparently at some graduate student review meeting that the faculty had, some faculty member said that I was the best grad student in my year. Fuckin A right. Go me.

Now I just have a couple of more papers to do in order to live up to such lights.

Wish me luck.

I am not sleepless yet, but many miles to go.

A distance left to run / so give me coffee and TV>

Wednesday, April 28, 2004
 
This is what I wrote after a dream -- either it was spoken or it was the theme of the dream. Try to decipher if you like. I scrawled it in the cover of a book called The Wake Of Art, just because it was the only thing on my desk to grab between snooze alarms, and I knew I wouldn't remember this accurately, although it is brief:

not like a human
that can become
forfeited, like
full spots of color

Sunday, April 25, 2004
 
Like a Song

Yes, indeed, my life is like a song
with words that spin out all wrong
the rhythm just a symptom
of the crazedness I feel day to day
each and every way

It would be something maudlin, something green
Postal Service, if you know what I mean

I did run in the rain, into and out of my car
to put those pics in his mailbox
with his name written on the envelope,
no postage to speak of
and the writing looked like my face

the note was dually cryptic
and if you know me
you know what I mean,
if not what it said

but he never called
never called

and I let it be
at least for a moment
then remembered myself and why
I bothered in the first place
left a message, olive branch
hand outstretched

comes up empty
every time.

 

 
   
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