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Saturday, November 08, 2003

ADVICE ON THE DRIVE HOME

Don't go past that point don't
regard the yellow line as other than
a stop
not a warning

hold it right there
son

Friday, November 07, 2003

It's hot in the poor places tonight
I'm not goin' outside

Wednesday, November 05, 2003

Who are we to denote
who we are?

Do we leave that up to others? Can they be trusted in this regard? They've made a poor showing up to this point.

The ride from Boston to Gloucester in the rain is a long one. Having your daughter make you laugh the entire way makes it a whole lot shorter.

the condition of suffering

the consequence of suffering

the extinction of suffering

the acceptance of suffering

not accepting the acceptance of suffering

Phew. Glad I had a place to write that.


Sunday, November 02, 2003

My friend Jed Parish once made a gag CD cover (no actual music exists) for my birthday, which just popped out of nowhere from a long forgotten pile inside the darkest recesses of my closet (of which there is only one in my tiny little nearly seaside shack of an apartment) and made my week. The title is I Am Mike Country, by the artist Mike County, on the Indie Cred Records label, and the track listing follows:

1) I Ain't Da Wun Ta Fu*k Wit

2) Waiting For Godot

3) Running With The Night

4) Smokin Bluntz

5) (Can't Get Enough of) Short Skirts

6) Cervantes

7) Living on the Edge

8) (You are a) Facist Booking Agent

9) A Clean, Well-Lighted Place

10) The Gorgox Trilogy
a) Preparing for War
b) Lunch
c) The Return of Guglek the Aged


Sometimes I think I'm a luckier man than I lead myself to believe.

Heard/saw Jordan read poems yesterday. Poems are not blogs/blogs are not poems. He was well received. Meant to have him sign a book. Forgot. Couldn't remember Behrle's name for a minute, which is strange, since I've known him well probably coming on 10 years. The brain is not reliable as, say, a clam shell.

who dares throw toys
at my daughter?

the smell of burnt popcorn
look over here for the
taste

and here's the sound of tin for you

the worst quota of all is
the one that marks your day

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