Bedazzled! is always a good time, even if I'm not a good time.
Here's "Out of Sight" by James Brown and The Game People Play.
Bedazzled! is always a good time, even if I'm not a good time.
The Against the Day Deathmarch begins tomorrow, sponsored by Cecil Vortex. Beginning Tuesday, January 30, read 50 pages a day of Thomas Pynchon's Against the Day and blog about it. Finish it (I'm not sure what year that would be) and you could win marvelous prizes.
POETS THEATER JAMBOREE 2007
However I stumbled on this page (keine Ahnung), it made me a little homesick.
The 2008 Modern Poets Series, for a full-length collection by a poet writing in English at any stage in his or her career
Samson W. posted a review of the place where I work on Yelp today and gave it one star.
I am labeling all the online journals to read this weekend Hud.
A friend asked me tonight what's up with all the birthdays. Because I don't like to talk about my personal problems, I denied it. What birthdays. I read about birthdays on your blog. I tried really hard to think of something else to talk about. Do you want a stick of gum. I have gum. We chewed gum together awhile. We stood and watched a traffic light turn from green to amber to red and then green again.
Almost precisely here: that dread-told EYEBALL HATRED.
Aiden Starr with Jon Leon, Laura Solomon, Jenny Boully, Jasper Bernes, Kirsten Kaschock, and Karla Kelsey.
Labels: Hud
It was very nearly Zachary Schomburg Afternoon at the store today. I received copies of Mr. Schomburg's new Horse Less Press chapbook, Abraham Lincoln's Death Scene, and a startling box from Octopus Books (hi, Mathias!). To tell you the truth, I trembled when I opened it. I was frightened. I held my boxcutter and had to rehearse my approach two or three times before first slicing. I think some kind of cgi golden sunburst shot out of the box when its flaps came open. I heard a flourish and a harp and big drums, although there were no trumpet players or harpists or drummers in the store at the time. A man with a harmonica put down the used volume of Thomas Hardy's poems he'd been fingering and stepped to the desk and asked me, "What's in that box?"