Sunday, July 25, 2010

kerouac's list of essentials

1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house
4. Be in love with yr life
5. Something that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19. Accept loss forever
20. Believe in the holy contour of life
21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22. Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
29. You're a Genius all the time
30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven

everybody loves cleo

today is cleo's 20th birthday. happy birthday cleo! it's ok that you no longer groom yourself and that you get your leg caught on vines from time to time.

everybody loves you!

Thursday, July 8, 2010

luca, while you are not safe i am not safe

my evening, in the style of an allen ginsberg poem:

i lay heavy and overheated, beached on green couches, stained with nostalgia, desperate, aching, while luca drove to wynnewood adorned in african hues, hair locked and fingers elegant, moving toward tennis matches played fiercely by women in flesh-colored underwear.

internet connection - lost! phone connection - lost! air conditioning - lost! scrolling through unwanted names in cell phones, sticky flesh in search of suburban memories, plastic blow-up neighbors, cartoon whales in chlorinated cesspools of summer, barefoot paths across black tar driveways, eating sandwiches in artificial air, mind-raped by sitcoms and neglect.

crawling through a window of infernal humidity to the past, to the present, through the potholes on lincoln drive, past the shops where main line shrews repair their shackles of gold and silk and shit, blazing resentment for manipulated desires, scavenging zip-locked packages of environmentally friendly food products.

an old man at the bookstore in search of holy girls, interrogating anorexic baristas who apologize for spilled milk, for dropped keys, for taking up any space at all, reading ginsberg and glossy magazines between gulps of decaffeinated poison, until i descend once again to the urban garden of unweeded concrete and yowling kitchen cats, until my lanky lover returns.