Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Monday, September 28, 2009

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Saturday, September 19, 2009

The "A" Word

"This fit like clothes made out of wasps."
- Modest Mouse

I dreamed I was younger. I walked hand-in-hand with my first love, into the holy playground of our adolescence. We held each other on a bench, laughing and whispering, while our friends played on swings and jungle gyms they had long outgrown. Slowly, I became aware of a long EEG, stretched out and plastered on the walls around us. It was a map of my brain waves. And typed beneath the treacherous spikes was the diagnosis: a single, ineffable and hateful word, like the mark of Cain or Hester's letter. I had become known. My friends, the playground — my love — they abandoned me.

And suddenly, the world was more frightening, and more beautiful, than it ever was before.

the colours have run

"Am I here, or am I there? Or is the true self neither this nor that, neither here nor there, but something so varied and wandering that it is only when we give the rein to its wishes and let it take its way unimpeded that we are indeed ourselves?"

Virginia Woolf
"Street Haunting"

Thursday, September 17, 2009

what's happening peter

( an absurd answer to a four-year-old girl who sometimes greets me with that question )

what's happening's a galloping
among the tameless nows

somehows will house the possiblies
when definitelies browse

reality's the stuff we draw
from lazy grazing cows

and should be's just that naggerfly
an animal allows

but could be's been the evertease
when definitelies browse

what's happening's a galloping
among the tameless nows

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

the living theater

theater like this does not exist anymore. It needs to. this is just a tidbit a preview at that. but please watch and be inspired.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

greetings from america street

little april sea song

call for submissions

from our friend Matthew Spencer,
on behalf of The Prescott Family:

Hey Traveling Neighborhood folks,
I'm working on putting together the 3rd issue of The Family Press and I wanted to see if any of you would like to contribute. If you don't know The Family Press I suggest you check out Issue 1 and Issue 2. The theme for this issue is Sex. If you feel that you have something you'd like to contribute (all mediums welcome, for web only), send it to zine@prescottfamily.org.

deadline September 20, 2009
more on The Prescott Family at http://prescottfamily.org

leaf let (autumn instructions)

follow a sleep fall
low with a dive fall
slow without leap fall
faintly alive fall
yellows and sweeps and
survives into heaps fall
follows wee deaths and
regards them as sleeps
when it falls for the wind
knowing nothing’s for keeps

ptr grg knt

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Love is bigger than You, bigger than Words, it's bigger than US*

"We are bigger than the end,
and we can just let the world wash over US
without being washed away."

--Johanna Kunin


Thursday, September 10, 2009

it's been a while

and i have been run dry this past summer with the hum of not one but two swamp coolers and far too much heat for a little closet...the only cool being facts and numbers under my eyes when what i really wanted, nay, NEEDED was fuzzy words i could cozy up with and that would tickle joy write out of my mouth. yes, write.

thank you for being here. for running even though i had to let go. for inspiring me to double-dutch jump right back in your spinning lines.


little february train

Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians, Dancers...it doesn't matter, just clean it up!


Wednesday, September 9, 2009


fifty things that are being killed by the internet.


3) Listening to an album all the way through
The single is one of the unlikely beneficiaries of the internet – a development which can be looked at in two ways. There's no longer any need to endure eight tracks of filler for a couple of decent tunes, but will "album albums" like Radiohead's Amnesiac get the widespread hearing they deserve?
13) Memory
When almost any fact, no matter how obscure, can be dug up within seconds through Google and Wikipedia, there is less value attached to the "mere" storage and retrieval of knowledge. What becomes important is how you use it – the internet age rewards creativity.
14) Dead time
When was the last time you spent an hour mulling the world out a window, or rereading a favourite book? The internet's draw on our attention is relentless and increasingly difficult to resist.
29) The mystery of foreign languages
Sites like Babelfish offer instant, good-enough translations of dozens of languages – but kill their beauty and rhythm.
30) Geographical knowledge
With GPS systems spreading from cars to smartphones, knowing the way from A to B is a less prized skill. Just ask the London taxi drivers who spent years learning The Knowledge but are now undercut by minicabs.
31) Privacy
We may attack governments for the spread of surveillance culture, but users of social media websites make more information about themselves available than Big Brother could ever hoped to obtain by covert means.
35) Concentration
What with tabbing between Gmail, Twitter, Facebook and Google News, it's a wonder anyone gets their work done. A disturbing trend captured by the wonderful XKCD webcomic.
37) Personal reinvention
How can you forge a new identity at university when your Facebook is plastered with photos of the "old" you?
42) The nervous thrill of the reunion
You've spent the past five years tracking their weight-gain on Facebook, so meeting up with your first love doesn't pack the emotional punch it once did.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

when favoritest song came along

it feels

like this tonight this the possibly my favorite
little thing of a tune in my ears

and how it feels when
it feels

well of course maybe
maybe it's that these things he's
have something to do
with growing up maybe

that's why I like it and how
it feels when
it feels

ptr grg knt

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

i am reading mrs.dalloway.

"clarissa once, going on top of an omnibus with him somewhere, clarissa superficially at least, so easily moved, now in despair, now in the best of spirits, all aquiver in those days and such good company, spotting queer little scenes, names, people from the top of a bus, for they used to explore london and bring back bags full of treasures from the caledonian market- clarissa had a theory in those days- they had heaps of theories, always theories, as young people have. it was to explain the feeling they had of dissatisfaction; not knowing people; not being known. for how could they know each other? you met every day; then not for six months, or years. it was unsatisfactory, they agreed, how little one knew people. but she said, sitting on the bus going up shaftesbury avenue, she felt herself everywhere, not 'here, here, here'; and she tapped the back of the seat; but everywhere. she waved her hand, going up shaftesbury avenue. she was all that. so that to know her, or any one, one must seek out the people who completed them, even the places. odd affinities she had with people she had never spoken to, some woman in the street, some man behind a counter- even trees or barns. it ended in a transcendental theory which, with her horror of death, allowed her to believe, or say that she believed (for all her scepticism), that since our apparations, the part of us which appears, are so momentary compared with the other, the unseen part of us, which spreads wide, the unseen might survive, be recovered somehow attached to this person or that, or even haunting certain places after death... perhaps- perhaps."