Lit blog

[Tzara]

At one point, during the night, we were 69. Or 96 -- maybe we were backwards. I was confused. I think we divided ourselves and did a 34.5. Well, it was like sex-sitting-on-a-nun that we even did a 1 on 1. Hugo arrived, his stomach empty, except for the 3 or 4 Jim Beams and coke. He drove an hour on interstate to be with me. Stupid ass of a man. I had a talk with him, the kind of talk he'd get from his mama -- if his mama was concerned, yet cool.

"You drive!" he slurred. We went inside my house and, yes, I would be the one driving to the Cantonese restaurant. "I was tested. All day testing! And it's your fault." He refused to elaborate until his lips were properly kissed. And I refused to kiss until he elaborated. I kissed the stupid man.

Not 1, nor 2, nor 3, but 4 women. Some twat named Lisa, that he dated before me, called him for... oh, let's guess. Sex! Hugo didn't want to hurt her but he was honest about being involved with me. Bye, bye, Lisa. Then there was Roxanne. I call her that snatch, Roxanne. 5 feet and 90 pounds of blonde Roxanne. Getting a divorce Roxanne. In Hugo's office Roxanne. "I'll do anything and everything for you, Hugo!" Roxanne. Rooxxxaaannne! He kept it all business, while fending off her tiny snatch.

"Puhlease... anyone named Roxanne... Well, it's like being named Ginger. I bet she's a Ginger kind of gal. You know, like on Gilligan's Island." Hugo's hands covered his face, as he leaned back on the sofa. "Oh, god, I forgot all about Ginger. She came into the office today. Another test!"

Then there was Kelly. Phone number Kelly. "Hugo, you've gotta find me a boyfriend. Someone like you." So she gave Hugo her phone number. He handed it back and demanded that a note be written with it. Hugo gave me the note. "She wrote it to you." Kelly *phone number* I want your Hugo to hook me up. He talks about you all the time.

It was 8 at night, and in this Roxanne-sized town, shops and diners close early. I drove him, a man who had passed his tests, to the restaurant. The shades were half down, like droopy eye lids. We had an hour before closing. Over Hunan beef, I asked Hugo why he had come to see me and not taken advantage of all those opportunities. He's eyes watered and, yeah, the beef was hot and spicy, but there was more to it. He was quiet for a second, 1 second, while his eyes reddened. "Because I love you." I ate my meat and rice, a faint smile on my lips.

Later that night, after 11, after 69, I named his nipples and sunk my teeth into Roxanne and Ginger, and then... I decided that he was my man.

I will reaffirm what I said earlier: Eve writes the best blog entries of anyone.

I think I will, at least for the present, table the one I was working on about raking the leaves today and accidentally wiping my hand through the dog shit that was underneath.

A little soap, a plastic bag and trowel, and all's well. Anyone who's changed a diaper knows that drill. And I have, despite being kidless, changed diapers. So nothing to angst about there. Other than...

Evie always makes me feel like I'm the kind of guy that comes on after the interview with Britney Spears where Brit has just told Barbara Walters that yes indeedy do she had doggie sex with Brad Pitt on the front lawn of her Beverly Hills home and that Angelina, that snarky bitch, can just go shove it.

Then the red light goes on for me and I have to say, standing in front of some drearily numbered map of the western US, "Tomorrow we will get more rain."

Still, God, I hang on her every word.

 

[Tzara]

Does that mean Evie and I have to abstain while the rest of you slide into drunken giggling? I protest m'lud!

(I'll pick you up on my way byafter Tzara hikes up here , just wave your crutch with something flimsy attached that way Tzara won't miss you.)

I'll pick you and Champie up, but I really want to drive her Mini. I'd like to drop my Volvo off in North Cold, AB at her house and floor her little rocket all the way to Maine.

I'm bringing wine. Sonoma Cutrer.

Oh, and Eric Dolphy records. Yes, LPs.

Do I need to bring a turntable?


Please, though, don't get me smoking again. Don't even mention Gitanes. Or Players. Or Dunhills. Or... what was that? Cigars?

Shit.

Is there brandy?

 

[Tathagata]

Well you can come over, too. I think that would be a great party, the four of us. Actually I'd like Tristesse and Tzara and Sara Crewe at the party, too. And darkmaas. And Wicked Eve. And DA. Wahoo! What a party!

And yknow it's my fantasy too, those wild two boys of Eire. They both love poetry and literature and music. They both play music. They both can yak up a storm. On the other hand, I know them both well, one really, really well. They'd probably end up pissing me off. Somewhere between the Bass Ale and the Magic Hat.

That's a party that would inspire a lot of poetry, among other things

Drunken Irishman always piss someone off....only slightly more than sober ones do.
It's because what few social filters we have are relaxed and it all just goes through cynical and then out...
Think of John Lennon and Brian Epstein.." Cellar Full of Boys" kinda stuff

I'd just sing " Everybody works but Father" in Yiddish and all would be forgiven...or maybe an Allen Sherman song...
" Harvey and Shelia
Harvey and Shelia
Harvey and Shelia
Oh, The day they met"


By the way
I'd most certainly stop at an Italian pastry shop here and bring a box of Lobster Tails
http://www.mikespastry.com/lobster.html


we'll discuss Eve's wardrobe later

 

[Tathagata]

I'll pick you and Champie up, but I really want to drive her Mini. I'd like to drop my Volvo off in North Cold, AB at her house and floor her little rocket all the way to Maine.

I'm bringing wine. Sonoma Cutrer.

Oh, and Eric Dolphy records. Yes, LPs.

Do I need to bring a turntable?


Please, though, don't get me smoking again. Don't even mention Gitanes. Or Players. Or Dunhills. Or... what was that? Cigars?

Shit.

Is there brandy?

Henessy VSOP ok?
If you are having brandy you need cigars
I have a connection...perhaps even Cubans

Gauloise is ok then right?

 

[Tathagata]

Say it better: A poetry cypher. There's no need for competition.

poetry jam?
poetry one love peace party?

You will be required to sing at least Muddy Water/ Howlin Wolf/ Elmore James tune
and yes...you can make up your own words

 

[Tathagata]

I am not that rare woman, that's for sure. I'd be thinking far less literary thoughts. However, those ideas wouldn't be so vivid if they weren't both writers as well as wild, drunken Irishmen. So maybe I'm a teency bit literary, in my way...

bj

I bet you'd get the dancing started
Just a hunch

 

[WickedEve]

I will reaffirm what I said earlier: Eve writes the best blog entries of anyone.

I think I will, at least for the present, table the one I was working on about raking the leaves today and accidentally wiping my hand through the dog shit that was underneath.

A little soap, a plastic bag and trowel, and all's well. Anyone who's changed a diaper knows that drill. And I have, despite being kidless, changed diapers. So nothing to angst about there. Other than...

Evie always makes me feel like I'm the kind of guy that comes on after the interview with Britney Spears where Brit has just told Barbara Walters that yes indeedy do she had doggie sex with Brad Pitt on the front lawn of her Beverly Hills home and that Angelina, that snarky bitch, can just go shove it.

Then the red light goes on for me and I have to say, standing in front of some drearily numbered map of the western US, "Tomorrow we will get more rain."

Still, God, I hang on her every word.

Oh, god! Am I Britney?
Ah, Tzara, this is just damn funny: Then the red light goes on for me and I have to say, standing in front of some drearily numbered map of the western US, "Tomorrow we will get more rain."

 

[Angeline]

That's a party that would inspire a lot of poetry, among other things

Drunken Irishman always piss someone off....only slightly more than sober ones do.
It's because what few social filters we have are relaxed and it all just goes through cynical and then out...
Think of John Lennon and Brian Epstein.." Cellar Full of Boys" kinda stuff

I'd just sing " Everybody works but Father" in Yiddish and all would be forgiven...or maybe an Allen Sherman song...
" Harvey and Shelia
Harvey and Shelia
Harvey and Shelia
Oh, The day they met"


By the way
I'd most certainly stop at an Italian pastry shop here and bring a box of Lobster Tails
http://www.mikespastry.com/lobster.html


we'll discuss Eve's wardrobe later

If you sang Harvey and Sheila to me, I don't know if I'd want to marry you or run screaming from you. Of course I know it. We had all Allen Sherman's albums. Also a book hanging on a little chain from a hook near the toilet: Jewish Jokes for the John. So you could poop and daydream about Grossinger's at the same time, I guess. Oy, were we classy.

At the Italian Peoples Bakery, they made those things with chocolate custard cream. It was near Chambers Street.

Eve's bringing Hugo. She's in love. I think.

 

[WickedEve]

Eve's bringing Hugo. She's in love. I think.

If rednecks, on the back of a pickup (add confederate flags, shotguns, and home brew) show up at your apartment... well, I sent them. I call them cousins.


love stinks

 

[Angeline]

If rednecks, on the back of a pickup (add confederate flags, shotguns, and home brew) show up at your apartment... well, I sent them. I call them cousins.


love stinks

They'd be right at home up here. Maine has rednecks, too. They just don't have the confederate flags. Everything else fits though. Remember when I told you about the schitzophrenic teenaged boy I was working with? The one who heard voices and thought he was a soldier in Iraq half the time? His parents bought him a gun for Christmas. A gun! He needed it so they could all go moose hunting up at their "camp" in the north woods. It's a very different mind set from my experience, to say the least.

Maybe they could meet my cousins in Brooklyn. That would be interesting.

I can't say I agree with you, but my relationship is old and comfy at this point. Being "in love" stinks for sure.

 

[WickedEve]

They'd be right at home up here. Maine has rednecks, too. They just don't have the confederate flags. Everything else fits though. Remember when I told you about the schitzophrenic teenaged boy I was working with? The one who heard voices and thought he was a soldier in Iraq half the time? His parents bought him a gun for Christmas. A gun! He needed it so they could all go moose hunting up at their "camp" in the north woods. It's a very different mind set from my experience, to say the least.

Maybe they could meet my cousins in Brooklyn. That would be interesting.

I can't say I agree with you, but my relationship is old and comfy at this point. Being "in love" stinks for sure.

One of the school moms 5-year-old boys got a gun for his birthday. He comes to school in camouflage, with a bullet in his pocket.

 

[Tathagata]

One of the school moms 5-year-old boys got a gun for his birthday. He comes to school in camouflage, with a bullet in his pocket.

The evil Barney Fife

 

[b8dbreth]

love stinks

to expand upon:
LOVE STINKS
J. Geils Band

You love her
But she loves him
And he loves somebody else
You just can't win
And so it goes
Till the day you die
This thing they call love
It's gonna make you cry
I've had the blues
The reds and the pinks
One thing for sure

(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah

Two by two and side by side
Love's gonna find you yes it is
You just can't hide
You'll hear it call
Your heart will fall
Then love will fly
It's gonna soar
I don't care for any casanova thing
All I can say is
Love stinks

(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah

I've been through diamonds
I've been through minks
I've been through it all
Love stinks

(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah

 

[WickedEve]

to expand upon:
LOVE STINKS
J. Geils Band

You love her
But she loves him
And he loves somebody else
You just can't win
And so it goes
Till the day you die
This thing they call love
It's gonna make you cry
I've had the blues
The reds and the pinks
One thing for sure

(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah

Two by two and side by side
Love's gonna find you yes it is
You just can't hide
You'll hear it call
Your heart will fall
Then love will fly
It's gonna soar
I don't care for any casanova thing
All I can say is
Love stinks

(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah

I've been through diamonds
I've been through minks
I've been through it all
Love stinks

(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah

I forgot about the J. Geils Band. I was thinking Joan Jett when I typed out Love Stinks.

I only fall in like. Like doesn't stink as badly.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I bet you'd get the dancing started
Just a hunch

I would certainly do my level best.

I can do a very passable jig. I once won a bet in a bar with it. But for Champie's amusement, I bet she'd far rather watch the wild Irish (and other nationalities as well) boys do their mad beautiful dances.

As to Eve's blogs, I struggle constantly not to be too intimidated to post anything in this thread at all. It just all seems so mundane after that.

And Eve, that AV. Woof! As if I didn't have enough of a crush on you already. Mercy. I'm begging you.

bj

 

[The_Fool]

I would certainly do my level best.

I can do a very passable jig. I once won a bet in a bar with it. But for Champie's amusement, I bet she'd far rather watch the wild Irish (and other nationalities as well) boys do their mad beautiful dances.

As to Eve's blogs, I struggle constantly not to be too intimidated to post anything in this thread at all. It just all seems so mundane after that.

And Eve, that AV. Woof! As if I didn't have enough of a crush on you already. Mercy. I'm begging you.

bj

Don't ask Eve for mercy, ask for her desire. Don't ask for her restraint, ask for her restraints, then use them on her.


There is a blurt in there somewhere.

 

[WickedEve]

I would certainly do my level best.

I can do a very passable jig. I once won a bet in a bar with it. But for Champie's amusement, I bet she'd far rather watch the wild Irish (and other nationalities as well) boys do their mad beautiful dances.

As to Eve's blogs, I struggle constantly not to be too intimidated to post anything in this thread at all. It just all seems so mundane after that.

And Eve, that AV. Woof! As if I didn't have enough of a crush on you already. Mercy. I'm begging you.

bj

I'm just having a naked day. I'm sure the dead squirrel will go back up by tonight.

Okay, I'm just going to ask and get it over with. What's with you people and my blogs? You, tzara, and others are far more bright and witty. My writing is simply entertaining in a, often, trashy and southern way. Hey, I guess folks like that. lol

 

[Angeline]

I'm just having a naked day. I'm sure the dead squirrel will go back up by tonight.

Okay, I'm just going to ask and get it over with. What's with you people and my blogs? You, tzara, and others are far more bright and witty. My writing is simply entertaining in a, often, trashy and southern way. Hey, I guess folks like that. lol

You just have no idea, do you? I know you and I know you don't realize how good you are. Also you're modest.

As for the success of trashy southern writing, let me say two words: Tennessee Williams. And there are so many others. The world is waiting for you!

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I'm just having a naked day. I'm sure the dead squirrel will go back up by tonight.

Okay, I'm just going to ask and get it over with. What's with you people and my blogs? You, tzara, and others are far more bright and witty. My writing is simply entertaining in a, often, trashy and southern way. Hey, I guess folks like that. lol

Well, if you're just going to up and ask, I guess I'll offer my theory, for what it's worth. I don't do this "more than" or "better than" thing. It's hardly the point. Besides, everybody's humping everybody's leg in here. It's one of the things I love about this place.

What it is, is this: You're a phenomenal writer, with amazingly vivid images, you're a really hot chick (boys like that) and really, really interesting things happen to you. Your fans in here are either a) madly crushing on you or b) living vicariously through you or c) both.

I love me a good naked day.

bijou

 

[DeepAsleep]

Ok. But what's a poetry cypher? I don't know that expression. And Tess will have to get Denis Hale too from the left coast contingent.

A private reading, and/or gathering, held informally, away from prying eyes. Usually with liqour, beer, wine, and.. whatever else you're into, just sort of floating about.

It's like a poetry party, but with a different name, so you can feel special for doing it. yay, terminology!

 

[DeepAsleep]

poetry jam?
poetry one love peace party?

You will be required to sing at least Muddy Water/ Howlin Wolf/ Elmore James tune
and yes...you can make up your own words

I have this series of beat poems (You've read at least one of them...) that I'd love to try with musical accompaniment. Would that count, instead?

Or, you know, I can just belt the entirety of the Tom Waits song book, whiskeybottlegravelandcigarettesinnameatgrinder voice and all...

And who's bringing the damn sushi? I'd require spicy yellowtail rolls, at the least, and white tuna sashimi. Salmon nigiri?

Hmm.

 

[Tzara]

Besides, everybody's humping everybody's leg in here.

That's your leg?!!



Geez. I guess I do need new glasses. And to think I used to be able to find my way around in the dark....

 

[unpredictablebijou]

That's your leg?!!

That's not yours?

 

[Tzara]

That's not yours?

It's a common misconception.

Genetics, y'know. <--emoticon

 

[Tzara]

Okay, I'm just going to ask and get it over with. What's with you people and my blogs?

If we tell you, you'll get self-conscious and not do it anymore.

You're right. Your life is dull and boring.

Keep writing about it.