My 100 Things continued

48. Read prose in a club.... like a beat poet - Kerouac
49. Have an advice column
50. Touch a shark
51. Swim with marine mammals
52. Feed otters
53. Kayak in white water rapids
54. Design my own home
55. ....

to be continued ...

Pitch ImPerfect

my direct
practice of heterosexuality
could be described concisely of me trying to
be one with a heretofore deemed paradigm
described by ancients as "cleaving" but
concisely exercised as leaving oneself behind
as two become one flesh - and tear
the flesh from each other in
exploration of
and
development
of
such
a pitch imperfect as to create a new
language discernible only to beasts

from NEW AMERICAN PAINTINGS no. 45 - MARK NORMAN BROUSSEAU, page 29 pp 2 line 2

Ideas:

From somewhere back in 1996 - just a random bunch of ridiculousness interspersed with some fairly decent ideas.
1. Get into volunteer work
2. Be sociable - goal: make 2 real friends each year
3. Read a book or magazine you like. You don't have to read the classics
4. Get over it, whatever it is.
5. Each hour counts. Don't be lazy.
6. Live your dreams. Don't wait for permission.
7. You never get back what you lost. You get back what you give away, love,
friendship or caring OR hate, bitterness, no concern. It all comes back
8. Do what makes life significant.
9. Question the ghosts in your head. Question everything. Change what you question.
10. Get out of the house. Get into life.
11. Wear monochromatic clothing only.
12. Find your local state park and track deer in that park. Sit by the nearest body of water and listen to it.
13. Read a book about solitude, in a solitary place.
14. Write at least one thing you like about yourself down. Look at it. Write down another thing.
Look at it. REALIZE you like some things about yourself.
15. Walk to the store instead of driving.
16. On saturday only go places that you can walk to. Sunday, only ride your bike.
17. Have your 2 best friends over for dinner. Make them cook, too.
18. Don't think about your family problems for one day; it's possible.
19. ----
20. Go to as many matinees as you can in one afternoon.
21. Drive to your nearest favorite city.
Go to the highest floor possible in the tallest building possible.
Look at your kingdom below.
22. Call a realtor and house hunt even if you can't afford it.
23. Get a haircut.
24. Buy a new shirt, wear it to your favorite club, bar or restaurant.
25. Buy a new CD.
26. Start saving money. Put your pocket change in a can.
27. Live life as you want, you make your own decisions, say no! don't explain why.

Cincinnati '96 - some sort of prosetic poem of mine

7 hill Cincinnati
living on Ravine
snow sliding
on the corner
a market
and this house
above it
silence
but music
cars accelerate
up the hill the city, I close the door and live big
in this apartment - compartment - my mine me to me.
"My world in the city"

on ravine
corner
a market
above it
this apartment
my world.
silence but music and acceleration up the hill.

Big nights to me are snow filled, and it [ the snow]
sticks to our street, a hill. It sticks and cars slide in
to parked cars. The cop parks and stepping out slips.
His car slides. "Hey buddy you stupid?
You wanna kill yourself?" he screams, pounding hoods.
it echoes snow flake to snowflake. I watch down below.
Cars slide. Black guy yells at the
yellow guy slipping up the hill yelling at the cop.

The radiator fills half the space
in front of the 3 windows I
open the middle window a crack and cold, cold air
dumps into the room.
I want to hear the traffic. I want to hear the snow fall
and how it talks to the
soles of shoes when they step on it. It talks to me, too.
The radiator is hot on my legs. The air is cold on my legs.
Its 9 pm and Cincinnati
is not ready for snow tonight.
Cars slide down the hill.
Parked cars parked on fresh snow slide down the hill.
I love this hill. No mercy hill.
the cop parks, gets out, slips on his backside.
His car slides toward him.
he gets up wiping snow off his clothes.
It's blue tonight.
The market sign reflects off the flakes more blue.
Cars slide into parked cars.

Hearing the traffic, hearing the snowfall.
It talks to shoe soles; it talks to me.
Hot radiator on my legs, cold cold air on my legs.
9 pm Cincinnati tonight is not ready for snow.
Slide down the hill mr. car.

The Girl Who Would Be Queen

She lived inside a box-
her eye poking up against
the box hole.

box hole
inside the box hole she lived
her eyes poking up against the glass
smearing the glass with eye juice
eye mucous
her green eye grabbing for a glimpse
of life, life, life live, life

oh in a box hole, box hole, box hole,
oh in a box hole -

thump, thump, thump.

Burned Flowers

for my girl, daisies
sweltering in the kitchen
parched and withering