Tuesday, June 24, 2008

bad poetry, dead poets, and me. focus groups and muffins too. art and shit


My suspicions have been confirmed. People are just not buying into the fact that I am one of the most prolific serial killers still at large and plying my trade etc. I think there is an assumption that someone who slays en masse wouldn't have a blog where they make no secret of their lethal little hobby. Assumptions truly can make an ass of you. That is no lie.


Anyhow, I hate it when I get so behind in my blogging that I have too many topics to cover and I just don't know where to start. I had a lovely anonymous commenter ask me about focus groups and this makes me want to go off on a tear about my experiences and opinions about focus groups. Then, I want to keep promoting Delmont Klien and the spinster family. And, then I want to discuss my legal woes and how I am dealing with them. Then, I want to dish some celeb gossip or make jokes about Obama. Too much.


I'll need a whole 10 minutes of undisturbed time to get it all out and I fear that won't happen today, dear taters.


Okay, the taters thing isn't working so well and I'm hereby dropping it from my blog repertoire. I love the fancy words and they .... they don't love me. No more taters, taters.


That alone is a blog entry: Language and its discontents. As you see, I am full of stuff and need to stuff it somewhere.


At this point the non legions of viewers are scratching thier heads or straining their eyes or shaking thier restless legs or doing it is whatever one does when a blog is confounding or nonsensical or absurd or tedious or whatever adjective one chooses, really.


The muffin venture is going along semi smoothly. Tea and muffins seem a sure bet according to the focus group and the zogby poll. I've hired Frank Luntz of Luntz polling fame to start a round of focus groups and soon we'lll feel really secure that we are on the right track.


Frank Luntz: I will discuss him soon. I think I need to start a vblog. I finally get around to blogging and now the pressure to vblog is upon me. So hard to keep up. I got a webcam yesterday and my goodness the possibilities are so very endless. Frank Luntz will google his name today( I've met the man) and see this. I'm sure of it.


I think I'm going to do a vblog with mommy henya because she is just a very amusing woman and says funny things all the day long.


I think I need to go back on the adderall. I decided that it was making me too intense and that I was presenting as a bit loony to my more sedate brothers and sisters. But, I still am presenting as intense and loony and now I can't focus in the slightest either.


Muffins, yes muffins. Polling. Yes, Polling. Obama. Yes, obama. Floods. So many floods. Man and non man made disasters everywhere.


Punctuation. Never learned it. Can't grasp it. Don't think I ever will. I think I get away with it, but since most people are too polite and/or frightened of my tendency towards homicide, I never feel secure that I'm getting the criticism that lurks within the hearts of each and every human being. What a mess this entry is turning into.


I think I am just going to post some Delmont Klien and some art by the smaller boned spinster sister. Delmont wrote this maudlin shit when he was 27 years old and little did he know it would get worse. But, he did live till 58 and died from natural causes so that's a victory of sorts.




Passport


I'll get there yet
to that common threat
of
reaching out
to a bottomless pit
every fiber defies me
to say
okay!
I want to
travel light
fight the sky
touch the sun
and then say

bye bye

I’ve traveled light
i’ve traveled deep
I ‘ve traveled so far
just in my sleep

different lights
meant different
sights
I traveled mostly in my chair

I went back
and I went forth

I went down
and I went
North

In the west
as in the south
I found the east
coasting about

It too was lacking
So again i started packing
I ran or strolled
to a future
untold

When I unbold, I

slunk and I whispered
in the best of times
I shouted in rythm and

ryhmes

Been to Madagasscar, Crete
Tibet , Rome
and still I need to head on home
and make my way
and pass the day
It rains in all those places a
and it takes so long
to get there
the waterworks stay the same
here.
I have the tears
and stamped passport
I have the fear of
the fearsome sort
I must stay still
and find it here--
the elusive
intrusive
last resort
the all inclusive plan
the combustible sponteinety
of moving at whim and
ignoring the imploring sages-
my diary is full
of empty or

scribbled pages

I am stuck at a station
and he of creation
has not pointed his finger
at me
I choose my transport
carefully
and lie low
till it hits
my bus, train , plain
knows where to go

I am caught in the trap
of ignoring the
map
and that is why things are so
the left turn
turned on
me
the right turn
was not free
the middle ground was muddy
mud
muddy
had to go back
once more
and get what was lacked


and had to go so many miles

unraveled

on roads

well and not well

travelled.

Made my way and made my bed,
like robert frost before me.
I'll end up dead
If I die violently

my blood will pour out

red

the honey will finally be free

of it's hive


What's that?

I know I know

I'm still alive.
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