WOULDN'T IT BE SWELL

It would be so nice to have a body. Even if you're worried about big thighs or cellulite or a kind of pock mark or something, you can sit on a bench & bring your legs up to your chest, rest your elbows on your knees and smile at the moon if it's still out. This would be morning time, sitting on a bench with the sun on your face with the hanging, still moon above. On the bench, you don't really have anything to worry about except your sunglasses getting crushed on a table next to the bench by a tray or a big book if you have your eyes closed & you aren't paying attention.

And with cellulite, it's sad that you have so many people worried about that -- mainly women -- but you'll see a man walking a pair of matching dogs with some kind of sports outfit on but you can see he's got a gut under that top. You know that walking those dogs around the block is his exercise & he's going to go back to his fancy marina apartment and think, "Boy am I pooped after all that exercise," and he pours himself a whiskey & soda and sleeves away the sweat on his forehead. "It's 10AM and I feel fit as a fiddle," he thinks to himself.

OLIVE BAR FOR SINGLES

There's an olive bar for singles
where you can have the girl
of your dreams

guaranteed
twenty years younger
(or slightly less)

but like everybody
she still has her problems
which might be:

acne trouble
dog trouble
ex-boyfriend trouble

and while you came here
imagining escape,
trouble follows.

FUCK WHAT WHAT WHAT

CAN'T HEAR ABOUT FARM TOOLS W/O THINKING OF A POPULAR WEBSITE

"I get to hang out with so many cute girls I'm all like fuck what you think." Scummer wiped his nose, every bag that comes in here. Sniff sniff. Holding a photo of a magician holding an underwear, "Garments! The first one made how many holes?"

Ah, a cheerful spinning! 7-11 in the sky from heaven, no more Thanksgiving in the icy columns of Hades. "Cruel how money is, man." Cabin log in and caused a few fires. Bad, man. Watchin' tears fall on a sausage, wake up and smell the.

"Sweet drums, man." Haha fool -- not a man! Slashed to ribbons a leased car; wife trrrrrouble. Subdivision worries for further hesher moves. "I haven't had that kind of energy in years!" Fingers on chin, little teeth poke out upper lips agape snarl when cops have your back.

Snif'd at a sci fi book, "I had been living in New York but it seemed too much like a sci-fi book." A HISTORY OF BURNOUTS ON SATURN.

TELEGRAM

ridiculous florist with reggae doo-rag / salami sandwich for the almighty has mustard & cheese issues / pomegranates stains on your beaver / tell the cat to watch out -- there's fruit behind it! / the pilgrim's barnyard, the pilgrim's barnyard riddle / hair falling down everywhere, a ditch fulla' hair / a beatnik's pants for sale on eBay / a saxophone full of candy, ice cream of the future, malted milk balls / _____ couldn't give me a raspberry on my belly after it grew a mustache / a teenage girl with big '80s bangs screaming at a car in flames

entranced by the ballbuster's perfume, I put on the skull mask / the washing machine's feelings when the widow finally passed on / hip-hop basslines finally committed suicide, kick drums threw a party with all the money they made / penis drawing opened a can of beer, laffed its fukkin ass awf / Casio scream beats Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on the charts / MJ's backup singer with a bad grass habit had to be fired / who plays the Poetry Organ when the regular guy has the day off? / ch'p'd t'th / this is so fukkin 'welcome to the world of AIDS', it makes me sick / i hate jocks et al

NEW PARTY ROLL CALL

CUZ REGULAR PARTIES ARE BORING:

PIE FIGHT PARTY
WATERMELON KICKING PARTY
FRUIT DOCUMENTARY SHOOT PARTY
GRASSY HILL SKATEBOARDING PARTY
J-CARD DESIGN PARTY
ONE-NIGHT-ONLY-SURF-BAND LIVE RECORDING PARTY
TAPE TWO OR THREE SHIRTS TOGETHER, CLIMB INSIDE & BUY SOME GROCERIES PARTY
FAKE SNUFF FILM w/ BOY TORTURE PARTY
SUNGLASSES PAINTING PARTY
GLUE A BUNCH OF BOOKS TOGETHER TO MAKE A TABLE & THEN HACK IT APART WITH AN AXE PARTY
RICH PERSON EFFIGY BEATING & BURNING PARTY
WIGS & NEW PERSONALITY + ALL LIES & NO TRUTHS PARTY
HORSE RACE w/ LIVE BETTING BUT IN COSTUMES PARTY DOWN AT THE TRACK
TURN A PRODUCT BOX INSIDE OUT, REDRAW & REPACKAGE THE THING PARTY
BLANKET MAZE PARTY
WHAT'S THAT ON THE FLOOR PARTY
BLINDFOLDED, SEATED w/ YOGURT PARTY

LIVE AT R.N.'S HOUSE

Once wormed deep enough into the high, he pitched a game show called Invisible Bodies: a vacant Hollywood Squares set & no one could be sure how to win but there were drug prizes. A long pause followed. "Everyone into the hot tub," he said. "We're going to play a different game -- not Invisible Bodies!"

As the guests piled in, he laughed in sick fits and beat the water around him with quick slaps. Standing with his half-erect penis floating above the small waves, he took something from a house servant near the pool. He revealed three dies in his pruned palm. Tossing them across the water, they had yet to meet the surface when he dove at Adele and forced his head between her legs. Classic Dick antics. How he loved his dice games.

Dick curled a soggy arm around my shoulders. "Let's catch up on our correspondence." Exiting the tub, he took a cigar from a tray and threw it into the suds. He spat at the servant: "Get that thing."

We walked through the grass and the pines to the driveway with his houseboy in tow. Once on the blacktop, the boy placed the handle of a machete into Dick's hand. "Shut off that funk music," he said. The servant left and Dick leaned down to roll a watermelon out from beneath a Rolls Royce.

Holding the blade to the surface of the melon, he turned to the sickle of light in the sky. "Someone put out that light." I was watching the moon when the blade hit the meat. I was still watching when the houseboy returned and Tricky Dick wiped the knife on the his shirt.

HEARD OUTSIDE THE KLIK-KLAK CLUB

"The food was good, but the emcee was really talking up pussy juice."

"She had to pee so bad she was farting yellow."

"It's a great restaurant -- they even have a beatnik on hand with one of those hats."

"I kept popping boners in the cars & it was driving me nuts so I rubbed one off in the gas station bathroom which was tough because two dumbasses wouldn't shut the fuck up."

ON BICYCLE GANGS

ON BICYCLE GANGS
by Sam Haddix

"Basically it’s just fuckin' -- who was the dominant -- like who controls the social space in Ann Arbor? It’s like the entire premise of Critical Mass is based on 'taking back the street' which is fucking bullshit because -- I don’t want to necessarily boil down Critical Mass but, especially in Ann Arbor, the majority of bike culture enthusiatsts are generally those people that have a huge voice in the social sphere, right?

"So really what Critical Mass ends up being is just like a reassertion of, uh, that power -- of that stance. Of like, a bunch of white males breaking street laws & screaming at people, wearing denim vests and really just being as visible as they possibly can be & having a huge adrenaline rush. I mean, you could get sexual with it but, uh, that’s totally what it is. Is that not true? It’s just some white kids looking for reaffirmation for white kids that they’re the shit.

"Those who would participate in an event like Critical Mass are already, um, sort of like their identity represents something that's like antithetical to what it’s supposed to be like. It’s like the entire art world. Like everyone should be seeing the art... people are creating art that... museums are no place for art to be. Because it’s already a safe place. It’s already condoned. People go to museums or more importantly the art show -- which are hip as fuck these days -- who are the people that are likely to be walking by & want to get drunk for free. Like that entire crowd self-replicates itself. Like the art that’s supposed to be challenging peple -- it’s already in an environment that’s supposed to be safe. You’re going to that environment expecting to be challenged but you feel safe."

"Well maybe it requires a new envisioning of the art world. I’m sure what I’m talking about has already been done and acted upon & what not but at that point the audience becomes like the enemy. Because you’re not, because these people -- because the audience becomes the very people your art hates. The justice you’re trying to enact is to those who arent able to come to the show. If you’re reasonably intelligent, your art in whatever reduced political sense should be repsonding to all of the products of pseudo-liberal capitalist society. Like consumers -- pure consumers -- that don’t create. That are interested in life but look for it in these weird reproductions of like...

"It’s not whiteness, it’s power. It's those that occupy pirvilege -- and what is privelage? It's like a social power, right? There's a whole field of study that's emerging right now that supposedly tackles ideas like why are black people supposedly louder than white people? Because they feel they have to occupy a larger space because white people control it. And because white people don’t have to forge a space for themselves, what you end up happening are these narcisssitc negative rituals that are really the reverse of the things they attempt to act out. Where you have these white kids 'taking back the streets' when in fact they’re reasserting their own power space.

"I noticed that there are a bunch of black longboarders in town. I mean, what's that all about? I think the most important thing is that you’re pursuing, like, you're just like being honest with yourself."

THE FINE ART OF PROCRASTINATION

This is a poem about you, son
endless mirror images
taken on a fucking Macbook

You staring you down
in endless mirrors of annoyance
your dumb face

O, the terror of anger at friends
"the long road down"
and the hot time before it

History was a drag
a Hallowe'en mask
whipping on a string

When being too busy was
being busy and not being
annoyed by one another