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No'min [13 Nov 2007|01:01pm]
[ mood | crushed ]

i never got to meet norman. it wasn't meant to be.
here is a picture of norman. here is a transcript from when he was on hannity and colmes.
bastard death.

SEAN HANNITY, CO-HOST: As we continue on "Hannity & Colmes," the always outspoken author, Norman Mailer, has collaborated on a new book with his son, John Buffalo Mailer, titled "The Big Empty: Dialogues on Politics, Sex, God, Boxing, Morality, Myth, Poker and Bad Conscience in America."

Norman Mailer and his son John join us now.

Let me just get it out of the way. I know, Bush is awful, he's terrible, he lied. Let me guess: you probably want to impeach him, right?

NORMAN MAILER, CO-AUTHOR, "THE BIG EMPTY": I don't care. He's not worth impeaching.

HANNITY: Really?

N. MAILER: Yes. He'll become a martyr if he's impeached. I'd as soon see him flounder along.

HANNITY: I want to get to some of your other statements here, because they — look, I do — I do admire you and, personally, I like you.

N. MAILER: I like you.

HANNITY: You're a nice guy.

N. MAILER: You've got to like guys on the other side once in awhile.

HANNITY: Is this the only time in your case?

N. MAILER: No, but I can count them.

HANNITY: You agree with your dad a lot?

JOHN BUFFALO MAILER, CO-AUTHOR, "THE BIG EMPTY": On a lot of things, absolutely.

HANNITY: Oh, boy. Well, don't worry; we'll fix you. We'll Hannitize you.

You called our president, George W. Bush, the enemy. Do you think George Bush is your enemy?

N. MAILER: Yes. He's my spiritual enemy. I can give you 82 examples, and I'm 83. I'll come up with 83, tonight maybe more.

To begin with, he wrecks the American language. We're a democracy and democracy depends on language growing. I say this over and over and over. One of the reasons the English got through all their falls and the loss of their empire, all their disasters, their strikes, their difficulties, their wars through the years was they had Shakespeare to fall back on. And they speak well in England. They do.

HANNITY: Blood, toil, sweat and tears, my friend.


HANNITY: Everybody has gifts. Bill Clinton had a great gift to gab, but he's full of baloney.

N. MAILER: I wouldn't argue with that. He wasn't as good as he should have been.

HANNITY: (doing Bill Clinton impression) "He wasn't too bad. How you doing, Norman? It's good to see you. How's it going?"

(speaking normally) But he had an ability to communicate that I will agree off-the-cuff the president's not great at, but it's what you say. It's what's in your heart. It's the principles that guide you in life, isn't it?

N. MAILER: No. The thing is, I don't care if you speak well or badly. He did have a very good education. He should have spoken better just for that alone. But he speaks only in cliches. Lyndon Johnson did the same thing. He wouldn't use one word. He used five words all hyphenated.

HANNITY: It sounds elitist to me.

N. MAILER: I am. I am elitist.

HANNITY: Are you? Why?

N. MAILER: Because that's part of the whole given in a democracy. I've had advantages.

HANNITY: You are a smart man; you're a brilliant author. Politics, there's a lot that I don't agree with, but you go as far to say, your philosophy is we've got to live with terror. You went on and you made a statement about our country, the only reason we went to war — if I could find it here — was to boost the ego of white American males?

You know, Norman, those comments while we are at war, while troops are in harm's way, while he is the commander in chief, do you not see the outrage in that?

N. MAILER: Yes, I do. So what?

HANNITY: So that's what you want to do?

N. MAILER: You know, you have the right in a democracy to make people angry.

HANNITY: You do.

N. MAILER: You have the right to speak your mind.

HANNITY: You have the right to be wrong.

N. MAILER: You have the right to be wrong. And I can be wrong and I can be right. I was not mocking the soldiers. I was a soldier, after all, along with a good many other people.

HANNITY: You're undermining them, though. You're undermining their leader.

N. MAILER: No, I'm not undermining them. Bush is undermining them. He undermined them from the beginning, because he got them in a war where there wasn't any thinking about getting into that war.

Can I have one minute on what's wrong with that war?

HANNITY: I'll give you 30 seconds.

N. MAILER: Good enough. It was a fascistic country for 30 years. People who live under fascism are not only miserable but they're full of shame. You just don't go in and inject democracy into them. They're half crazy with their own...

HANNITY: People said Reagan couldn't...

N. MAILER: I thought I'd get my 30 seconds.

HANNITY: Reagan said it's the evil empire.

COLMES: Hold on. It's my turn to talk. Let me get John in here. John, you decided to do this with your dad as kind of a dialogue.

J. MAILER: Absolutely.

COLMES: And what made this project happen? You agree with your dad on a lot of this stuff, right?

J. MAILER: On many things, on most things, we do. What it was was I was in conversations with people from Gen X and from my generation and the one below about what are we going to do when we have to take the reins? How are we going to deal with all the problems that we're inheriting?

COLMES: Right.

J. MAILER: And in every conversation, it was like, you know, this person would really be helped out by talking to my pop. And so finally, after we did a few magazine pieces on it, I thought, let's put it together and see if we can translate these conversations that we have all the time into this.

COLMES: You get into a lot more than politics, some which I want to bring up perhaps a little later in our next segment. But one of the things you say, Norman, the Bush administration, you know, holds great faith in the stupidity of the American people.

N. MAILER: Yes, well, let's say 52 percent of the American people are stupid.

COLMES: You think that's the amount?

N. MAILER: It's a hairline decision. And that's their constituency, and they do nothing to improve the intelligence of Americans.

HANNITY: Oh, stop.

N. MAILER: This is my great rage at Bush.

COLMES: But do you think anybody who votes for him is stupid?

N. MAILER: No. I think they're bright as hell. I think Rove is very bright. Cheney is bright. Rumsfeld is bright. They're all damn bright. What they don't have is moral ethos.

COLMES: Why do you think so many...

N. MAILER: You know what that is?

HANNITY: I'm aware of what moral ethos is.

COLMES: Let me ask this. Why do you think so many people vote for him and support him?

N. MAILER: I answered you already. It's because more than half the country is stupid.

COLMES: I just wanted to hear you say that again.

N. MAILER: And one of the reasons...


N. MAILER: Can I get a sentence finished? One of the reasons they're stupid is because they're made stupid. They're encouraged in their stupidity. When you have a president who speaks only in cliches — only in cliches — to the public — I'm sure he's a little brighter in private — but when he speaks only in cliches to the public, he's rendering the people stupid.

COLMES: You also say in the book...

N. MAILER: One last thought.


N. MAILER: And a democracy depends upon people getting brighter all the time. Democracies are delicate. They're not just ipso facto and just go on and on.

COLMES: You the say the purpose of the right in America is to keep the majority as stupid as possible, as they run into less opposition by having stupid people. You basically put that squarely in the right's province, that they're the ones who are doing this.

N. MAILER: Yes. Yes. Well, they're determined to keep us stupid. And they have a good many very fine tricks.

The whole thing with Cheney was marvelous. What they said is, if we get into immediately into why you shot the guy, the first question you'll be asked by a Times reporter who doesn't go out hunting is, "How many quail did you bag that day?" Nobody ever asked that question. Because Cheney probably said, "Let's sit on it for 24 hours, 48 hours, and let the press heat up and get into a frenzy and then half the country will hate them because half the country hates the media because they go over the top all the time against Bush."

HANNITY: You know what?

N. MAILER: Give me your better hypothesis on why they held up.

HANNITY: I'm going to explain — I'm going to tell you when we get back why Reagan was right and your side was wrong, why Bush is right and why your side is wrong and why you're an elitist snob but we still like you. We're going to get to that in a minute, all right?

N. MAILER: Yes, yes. You notice...

HANNITY: Half the country is stupid.

N. MAILER: I said I was an elitist. I didn't say I was a snob.

HANNITY: Well, when you say half the country's stupid, that's kind of snobbish.

N. MAILER: Yes, but I want that half to become brighter and brighter.

HANNITY: Get away from the government schools and take the vouchers that Republicans are offering so you can have some competition and free market capitalism.

N. MAILER: Come on. I'm not here to debate things...

HANNITY: No, because I'm going to beat you in that debate.

COLMES: ... me he would win. He actually admits that he beats me every night.


COLMES: Welcome back to "Hannity & Colmes." We now continue with the authors of the new book, "The Big Empty," Norman Mailer and his son, John Buffalo Mailer. Why "The Big Empty"? What does that mean?

J. MAILER: Well, that's his title, actually. But it's essentially the moral emptiness of the world that is the corporation, that is this administration, that is where we find ourselves in America today.

COLMES: You talk about, Norman, two kinds of patriots in America: those who believe virtually everything, don't argue and don't challenge and then the second kind. You say most are the first kind.

N. MAILER: Well, there are these two kinds of patriotism. There's blind patriotism, unflagging patriotism. And then there's the patriotism that says I live in a democracy and it's very important for the health and the life of this democracy that it get better all the time, not get worse. Because when a democracy gets worse, it can get worse and worse and worse. And the nightmare in every democracy, the very nightmare, is if it gets worse and worse and worse, we could end up totalitarian.

COLMES: This idea that we don't question, we don't ask — this idea, wartime president, you can't question. You can't question the policy. You're called a traitor. You're told you're not going along with the commander in chief in a time of war. We hear that over and over again.

N. MAILER: Well, it's Bush — it's just nonsense. First of all, he started a war he didn't have to start. And second of all, we have an absolute right in a democracy to argue about a war.

And we've argued about wars. Every war we've been in we've argued about, with the exception of the Second World War, because there, force majeur, there was a villain you could really believe in was a world conquering villain, if allowed to become that. So everybody hated Hitler and that was called a good war.

HANNITY: Hey, Norman...

N. MAILER: Vietnam ended up ridiculous, because Ho Chi Minh looked like a sage...

HANNITY: I've got less than a minute. I'm going to tell you something. You say 52 percent of this country is stupid.

N. MAILER: That's my number.

HANNITY: All you liberals thought Reagan was stupid. Reagan did the impossible; he brought the wall down. He ended the Soviet regime. The world is a better, safe place.

N. MAILER: You going to take up all my minutes?

HANNITY: I'm going to tell you something right now. George Bush is doing the same thing. You're going to be proven wrong from the prism of history.

N. MAILER: I wasn't proven wrong the last time. Reagan bankrupted the Soviet Union by increasing armaments.

HANNITY: Darn right he did.

N. MAILER: We bankrupted the Soviet Union. We didn't defeat them.

HANNITY: We beat them.

N. MAILER: And look at the mess they're in now. We didn't beat them. We bankrupted them.

HANNITY: They're better off than what they were under — sure, they are.


COLMES: Thank you for being with us. We've to run. But you know, the interesting thing is, nobody thinks they're in that 52 percent. Thank you very much for being with us.

Special luck with the book. We appreciate you being here.

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Ashcroft Nation* [05 Sep 2007|09:49am]
[ mood | nostalgic ]

Public Search Listings on Facebook

Facebook now enables anyone to search for Facebook users who have public search listings from our Welcome page. In a few weeks we will allow users to make these public search listings visible to search engines like Google. Public Search Listings only include names and profile pictures.

Because you have restricted your search privacy settings your public search listing will not be shown. If you want friends who are not yet on Facebook to be able to search for you by name, you can change your settings on the Search Privacy page.

No privacy rules are changing; if you do choose to make this public search listing available, anyone who discovers your public search listing must sign up and login to contact you via Facebook. Learn More.

*Ashcroft Jokes are more funnierest than Roberto Gonzales jokes- or jokes about who ever the next AG will be. Unless its Your Mom!

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[27 Aug 2007|08:23pm]
"Through this situation I've found Jesus," he added. He vowed to redeem himself, saying, "I have to."

--Says Mike Vick

I hope he finds St. Franics hidding behind big JC with a baseball bat.

--Says Me
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non profit online radio streams will die... [27 May 2007|12:20am]

non profit online radio streams will die...

unless you get off of your ass
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[22 May 2007|12:03pm]
If you feel like procrastinating and sending a qukc note to the Redskins regarding this issue... you might let the spirit move you to do so.


you could go here to do it


i need a break from my theory paper so i might do it.
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and the new rise against cd is coming out July 4 [02 Jul 2006|02:14am]
One trillion dollars can buy a lot of bling
One trillion dollars can buy most anything
One trillion dollars buying bullets, buying guns
One trillion dollars in the hands of killers, thugs

Woah woah fuck the world
A lot of people gotta die tonight
Woah Woah fuck the world
Kill'em all

One trillion dollars in Africa, Iraq
One trillion dollars and it’s never coming back
One trillion dollars can buy some bad-ass drugs
One trillion dollars makes me wanna kill myself

Woah Woah fuck the world
A lot of people gotta die tonight
Woah Woah fuck the world yeah, yeah,
Kill 'em all

Until the sun comes from the sky
Until the sun burns so bright
This world is no more
Until the sun comes from the sky
And all the people are just dust uon the ground

One trillion dollars can buy a heart, a soul
One trillion dollars buying nations of the world
One trillion dollars could make the fat lady sing
One trillion dollars, what a bullshit useless thing

Woah Woah fuck the world
A lot of people gotta die tonight
Woah Woah fuck the world
A lot of people gotta die tonight

Shit loads of money spend to show us wrong from right
Fuck the world
Kill em' all
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I want to have your abortion [02 Jul 2006|12:22am]
would i be having a manic episode if it seemed to me to be a good idea to watch fight club now? at 12:30am...

I could watch the director's commentary.
Which has Chuck P on it giving his two cents.
chuck p is the ying and the yang of sucking and not sucking
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[10 Apr 2006|08:24am]

This Grave contains all that was mortal, of a Young Poet, who on his Death Bed, in the Bitterness of his heart, at the Malicious Power of his enemies, desired these words to be Engraven on his Tomb Stone:
Here lies One Whose Name was writ in Water.

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Cold Feelings [02 Jul 2005|10:58pm]
I am just plain exhausted. Beat. I just wanna crash for a few days and not think about anything. I felt like a zombie tonight. I just want to shut my eyes and not think of anything- only of a good nights sleep. Not see anything in the pictures of my mind, have no dreams, and have no thoughts. Just turn everything off. I'm exhausted. I'm beat. And I just wanna crash. To exhume every thought from my mind. To not dare think of why shit is the way it is. To not think of why there are so many issues of paradox. To not have memory after memory butt its head against recent events. For there to be no contradiction. For a set point just to have exsisted and passed on without a single fight. To have just walked away before things became sick. To not wonder why some things happened. To turn it all off. Or- just punch some one in the face.
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[02 Jul 2005|02:52am]
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[02 Jul 2005|12:31am]
I almost snapped on this guy tonight. Some fucking yuppie. He started into me because I lit a cig. He said something to some dude about smoking- outside in a fucking public place- and they guy butted out. I lit up right after that not knowing what went down. This fucking bastard says, "Now, you're gonna be the asshole?" I'm thinking what the fuck. I'm not sitting on top of you- I don't know what the fuck you said to some one else. I just laid into the sonufabitch. Then he gives this false sorry bullshit- and I'm thinking fuck no- dont play me for a fucking fool like that. I hadn't wanted to deck some one in the fucking face this bad since that asshole at the bad religion concert. I was just not in the fucking mood to deal with this shit- after the past few weeks- I just wanted to lay into the fuck. I was having an okay day till this shit happened. The guy left soon after, but I was fuming.

It just fucked up all the shit I was doing. I had been doing some writing for a while- this was just the straw that broke the camel's back. The funny part about the thing was that this old dude thought the fucking prick called me an "actor". I informed him of the correct quote. It just sucked the life at the place.

I just remember looking around thinking where is this shit gonna go. Is any one gonna back me up here. And when that didn't happen I just went off. And just was thinking how the fuck far this would end up going.

Fuck this shit.

This storm is pretty wicked- like when I drove home from VA the last time. A perfect cap to the past string of days and weeks. I need to get back to the gym or some one's skull is going to eat their nose. And I'm gonna get my mountain bike taken care of too. I need to ride.
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Proustian Momentos, Keroucian Journeys [21 Jun 2005|11:39pm]
I met an old man recently. My recent long poem concludes with nearly verbatim utterances that he made to me. Today, I saw him at a gas station. He was buying lotto tickets. He remembered meeting me and we talked a little bit. The magazine rack had an Esquire or Rolling Stone with a feature article: The Killers- Rocking the World in Makeup (or something like that). I bought Luckies and we parted ways.

I spent the rest of my break driving around listening to Social D and Rise Against. Some Tiger Army. And drove and smoke Luckies.

Gerry told me that the new drop kick cd came out today. I was less than enthused. This girl showed up and- Gerry cranked up this song for her. It was by Him. So all those things had me thinking. Later that evening this guy came up to me and asked if i'd give this old dude a ride. He said the old guy would pay me. It was the same guy from this morning. I said I would. Said I'd do it for no money.

I gave the guy a ride. He was with this old thin black woman- the kind that just looks regarl partly because they are black and partly because they are old- dressed like Sunday church mornings. And aged, but still a smooth skinned face. I drove them into the guts of Summer night Allentown. Droping the old man off first. In the process of dropping the old woman off, I drove past Crock Rock.

I drove back to where I started. Through summer streets of kids outdoors and people sitting on porches and people moving. Sparce amount of people. And a long connection of images were made. And I don't know how all that made me think. All those memories that were brought up. Melancholy. Maybe that is the best word. Melancholy.

They asked if the old man asked if I had weed. They say he has a gambling problem. None of that came up. He railed against the taxi service. Taxi- something that mundane can conjur up images and memories.


The old black woman said, "god bless you" when she got out of the car.

The old man gave me ten dollars.

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[21 Jun 2005|12:00am]
this needs a lot of work. with structure and with tone. then the voice changes in it too. i'll spend some time with this over the next few days. christ i am out of practice with regards to writing. what is it? maybe a text message reply to the waste land from today? i don't know.

you will always find
memory resistant to
rationale- the ephemeral and
ethereal chiseled hard like face lines
Read more...Collapse )
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[04 Feb 2005|12:56am]
coming home in hours after natal breathing
you just wonder about sleeping that sleep of eternal resting question
that hold sun roof non exsistent of alabaster chambers
and chasms because coolness breathes
deeply from that tagent of alacrity that comes
from stuck in the sand seepings slowlying
seething troumoil of the moving clocking
mechanism that rides along the corners
of the sweetly scented stash of memory that crawls
forward and reaches deeply into you
like old man at church when plate comes around
for money offering as he digs deeply into pocket
looking for few lost bills that weren't spetn
in mom and pop bar that sits on corner
oh so Irish oh so old moments going quckly past
remember those days
just hurry up now
hurry up please
its fucking time
elliot you are my bitch because
I wrap my mind around useless information
to spew like the sounds of a desert Memnon
groaning like the folds of paper burdened by
wrapping wrapping wrapping tightly around
blood red fresh cut of butchers meat
the best that I saved for your Sunday dinner
over and over again the same old reachings
lowly questionings of contemplations that lead to one
truth do as you are and do as always and appreciate yourself for you
and it'd be so Whitmanesque if I wasn't so cold and starving and choking
and recalling every thought moment and I'd trade some time
to be thoughtless and do and do and do and do and do
the drawling of the dreamer reticent and coyly questioning
my mind is new rock
it says this
my mind is now water
it says this
my mind is layer upon layer going and going and going and going
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[28 Jan 2005|09:11pm]
People are such mindless
slobs grovelling in their
produced swillings of mewling
consumerisms constructed of flowers-

of bad flowers leaving drippings
-the mother cat with engorged tits-
trailing along the alleyway-
call it the milk of decadence-

trash heaps bawdy and gleeful
their yawning maws milking refuse
from those that produce-
dare you feign clean up

and pick your expressions
like flowers of the face-
droopingly long- those eyes
of daffodils- necks broken-

spent from spring rains
heavily falling their calling
of residual deathly rejuivinations
clinging from the eye that binds the soil-

drawing forth its own
assumptions carefully culled
and cleanly too from
drams of main and market-

and forget-me-not the
state's decree of wash
away the mockery and fetch
the water pail and bail
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[27 Jan 2005|01:38am]
To borrow a phrase from poetinthemaking here is "the roughest of the rough "
i'm gonna edit it some and see what happens. but i am disapointed in what I have.
if you read this before- I've added two new stanzas. I dont know if they fit. there are too many words reused or too many words with the same connotations reused. I need to go back and work over this poem. then we shall see.

Do I that pyramidal wall recall-
of mud red hue-
colored of a river's eternity-
and tangled midst sprawling city blocks?

Or do I reconstruct a panacea
of imagery conjured by foolish
childhood memory- and
cultivated by bookish gleamings?

I want to give myself to recollections
of degraded memories- to give myself
that power of mystic recall
untouched by outside affirmations-

You I could ask to give foundation-
but I wish to stand alone
and connect childish memory
to youthful whimsies yet unfelt-

Let visions of early memory
coil 'round my thoughts coyly-
and crush not my connections
that I mark with my idealism-

If impure that memory be-
I its destruction I wish not hasten-
let that connection coil amongst my musings-
let my affirmation be of foreshadowed memory-

Affirm my memory only-
if only my connected thoughts
your knowledge and recollections
easily my anticipated connections can affirm-

If not, let me stand
disjointed- like marbled Constantine
and with disfigured
memory let me contend
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[25 Jan 2005|09:55pm]
So- I sit here and think of writing something. A few things. That first thought that comes into my mind- or some thoughts that I have had recently. And I sit down because I want to write them out- but I sit down into a void that makes me want to consume these ideas and lock them down into some depth. These are not ground breaking ideas or deep ruminations on my soul- but I feel that writing them would reveal something intrinsic about my soul and I don't want to share them. But it has nothing to do with that. At another level, I feel consumed by my inability to transmit the complex and meaningful. I feel as though I have run the gammat of those words that I can string together and make mean something. I am embarking on an effort to redirect myself. Strike that and everything. Not redirect by re-assert my diretion and intent. I don't know.

In the inherient smallness of the world- I am still an atom. In a contracted world I am bouncing off those things that confine. But would you believe me if I said it is the infinte that renders itself in these walls of enclosing bricks and mortar?

Why do you think Coleridge wrote, in something clearly about cohmprehension and the creative process--

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure dome decree where alph the sacred river ran through caverns measureless to man....

and dont forget about the walls which twice five miles were girdded 'round... etc.

I had to get up and do some stuff and now my train of thought is lost. But it was in overdrive. Especially as I made a realization and went outside into the western facing winter night with a clear plain of untouched snow to my front- blue white in clear night moonlight sky- and the bell started to toll- and I realized if I follow through it could be the tolling for the end of many things. The worst of all might be alienation. I don't know. It could be a great toll. I have talked this talk before- failed to walk the walk. Sleep on it.

I am reading Memory Babe. It is opening new thoughts on Kerouac for me. I intend to share them later. I told Denise about them- in very fragmented way. Feeling stupid and directionless- I am writing down all the books mentioned. I will work on hitting those. Its like having a reading list. It really is that cannon stuff I have not read. I need to read more Doesteoyevsky for starters.

I have only one more Kerouac book to get- then I will have everything that one can reasonably get there hands on. It is called Scattered Poems- I know that they have it Borders. Also- now that I have all of his stuff- I need to start heading out and buying books of criticism on him. That could be the hard part to find- easily. The Borders here will have some stuff though. And these books also tend to be expensive. For starters I could hit the major biographies.

2005 goals:

read doestoevsky
read the Kerouac books I have not read (I need to update my list.)
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[18 Jan 2005|12:54am]
I read more of windblown world today at work; some of the journals related to OTR. There was a whole section in there about the shrouded traveler. So cool cause it was a lot- not just that one paragraph treatment that you get in OTR. And I remember reading that section and being all wow. In the journal there was all this part- and I remember reading this in ORT and being wow- sitting in the den reading it and listening to jazz... sitting in the big chair... "Use Cooper Paints"---- Allright, I will." Love that part. And zoom.

And he wrote of texas. just think this time tommrow we will still be driving through this state. and i thought about the road trip I took with warpig to see that game. and driving through all those towns- it wasn't far and it wasn't texas, but it was cool. and he talked about a school in cali that was the big stuff. and I said we have to go to texas and see a game. road tripping to texas just to see a game. i see a travel book growing out of that.

and i just started remembering all kinds of things about that trip. and just that area up north and memories and imiages burn themselves into my head. and my heart and i can't transcribe them for some reason.
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[11 Jan 2005|03:06am]
color this rainbow sweetly
with urbanaties and mutual talk
of lilacs creeping along
decaying transoms

if we could all lie
on the riverbank
as Whitman tell us to-
would we not silently speak truths

truths found in ripped and kept
movie ticket stubbs
and playbills from the theatre
keeping moments more fresh than memory

your flesh in time of night
has the warmth
of smooth stones resting
on riverbanks of summer

can your daylight dream
end on the plains of sunrise
couched in rosemary and pansies-
or just on nighted riverbanks?
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[07 Jan 2005|11:00pm]

greetings from this side of the revolution
and its one year ago yesterday and the date line is
full stop turn about of the engines
'cause the time has come here to the present
past moment: time to raze the destruction of the seemingly beautiful
child with a lily in its dead hands
hands so small- voided of life
and that lily still living dead with shine of green stemmed
white petal colored life and this you can see in black and white photography
morbid realities spilling from aged pages and tintypes
Really? I have a fasination with death
the dying
the dead
that which comes from the scintilarintly unknown beyond
and full stop turn about
focus my interests on the living dead amongst us-
the queen with her sad muffled hair
all of that.
none of that
lone piano noise of long dead movie stars
full stop turn about
Gawd knows whats below the surface to strike the hull of this ship
you know the sound- crying requim death running deeply along
solid currents of metal
stop full stop
old messages from western union (stop)


All my remembered comments
are preceived criticisms now
know what it is like to remember everything vividly?
torturous nature of a curse-
mentally constricted to points of paralysis-
the muscle growing taunt to the point where the fingers bend
inward to concave retching palms
a fervid mind rushing waters towards physical palsy of everything
as images release themselves and drop and release themselves and return
along with words so perfectly caught up in the mind to detail those
that one sees
and full stop paraylsis
the dead
know of that which I speak
it is not the obvious that worms itself around our skulking lives
far from the unknown
of esoteric rituals of dying Masons
soon to old to remember
full stop turn around
drive foward
tull stop


In my mind cities die
in the repeating gasps
of idolatry and colors known
to certain individuals: the seers

Just speak me one word
letting it rumble amongst
softness of your flesh
stuck tightly in the fingers of your throat-

swallowed thoughts reseructed easily
for now purpose but idle mind musings
that come with quickness of ancient fires
sweeping with their ferocity over naked grassed plains

full stop
warnings and musings of first act ghosts speaking
to wayward sons of kin untrusting
catch your genius in its sloth:
its excuses of craft and strugle
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