rockets, houston rockets that is (reasons for not growing out my beard)

I just finished a king size Snickers. I ate the entire thing in one sitting. Wes told me yesterday that after he got back from his vacation a couple weeks ago his sweaty arm pit problem (he has had for years and years) mysteriously disappeared. What I'm saying is maybe my recent trip to Colorado reacquired my taste for sweets, particularly chocolate. I had a chocolate craving less than ten minutes ago and got up from my desk and bought a Snickers. Me. My stomach gets upset if I eat a "fun size" Snickers. I feel fine. I feel GREAT. This is a biological change. This is interesting.

I set up a saving plan on my Wells Fargo online account. In 21 months I hope to have $4000 dollars saved for a trip to Europe. I have quite a few friends who live there and have family there so I think including the plane ticket, $4000 would be enough to spend a month or two or three across the sea. More? Less? I have no idea. I guess since I know people who I could stay with, my only expense would be getting from one place to another and food and booze. Trains can't cost all that much can they? I hope my life falls the way I'm passively attempting to direct it to. I want to save up some money and travel and that means I need to put off my life another year. Yeah. I want to write and find out about my writing recklessly before any sort of formal direction reels me in. But maybe formal direction would scatter me about? Work work work for 21 more months then run run run around in Europe then I can start my academic life back up. I could see myself becoming a perpetual student. MFA then maybe a Ph.D. in physics. I'll write moon poetry when I'm older, you'll see.

It's very patchy.

San Francisco, Nebraska

Where was I supposed to pay my five dollars to get over the Bay Bridge? I don't remember the last time it was THIS foggy outside. I desire nothing more than a sterile environment. I am sick. I am in a continual state of sickness and every place I sleep feels infested with dander as the cats run the roost these days. I want to check myself into a hospital and sleep at an incline.

I bought a tea at Scooter's and while the barista was making it, I was suspicious of his process. He put the tea flakes directly into the cup and filled it up with hot water. I'm not a fan of Nestea, the freeze-dried shit or whatever but knew that the tea he was using wasn't that. What was he doing? I looked at the lid and noticed that it was a "Filter Lid." The opening has this filter thing covering that doesn't allow the tea flakes to get into your mouth but allows the tea steeped water to. Is this new? I don't go to coffee shops or anything like that, and in the event that I do, I usually buy juice. It doesn't matter.

I'm also very suspicious of any social or political statement made through the use of one's own body. You people take yourselves very seriously. Write something to persuade me because your interesting body hair is uninteresting to me. It's all just very tired. I am very tired. I am sympathetic to feminism and have read Mina Loy, but regardless of how much you try, you are always going to be an object of desire for some freaky dude who's into whatever it is you're into and will rebel against it as well. This is more because of you than anything else though. But you already knew that. And everyone else just doesn't care what you do. I don't care, I'm just very suspicious. Live and let live. I'll shut up.

I wrote my friend Jeff a letter but didn't have ink for my printer so I don't know how relevant it is anymore. I'll send it anyhow. I need to buy some ink. I've been thinking about you a lot Jeff and I hope everything is going alright. Sometimes I write because I think that you're writing too. "I'm not gay or nothin'."

16th century poetry and the world is definitely a vampire

Maybe this makes me an asshole, but this is the most peculiar pairing ever.

On the who you might know link thinger on facebook I clicked on some random guy who I actually didn't know and under his favorite books section it said,

"Poets: John Donne and Billy Corgan (of smashing pumpkins) and, of course Emily Dickinson"

...

That is just ridiculous. Almost to the point of awesomeness. It is awesome, actually. Yes. It definitely is. I'm going to facebook befriend him because of it.

No.

I probably wont.
But would if I were that guy.

my speed metal office mate

I was sitting at my desk just now, or I guess I still am, but a second ago while I was sitting at my desk my office mate Ron walked by and said I could change the radio station if I wanted. We were, and currently still are, listening to the Eagle waiting to hear a Neil Young song so we can call in and win tickets to his concert in Omaha. Considering our intentions I, of course, said "Nah, I like oldies." Ron is an older guy, probably in his late 40's possibly early 50's, so when I said "oldies," it made me feel kind of awkward so I repeated it. "Oldies." He turned to me and said, "Yeah, most of those songs I was listening to when I was playing in bands in high school and college." I blinked a few times and turned to him and asked, "You were in bands, Ron?" He nodded. I asked him what he "did" in his bands and he said, "partied." We both laughed and he said that he played guitar. I then asked what kind of band it was and he turned to me and replied, "speed metal," and slowly turned his attention back to his computer and continued typing. His full back tattoo that I keep hearing about is making more and more sense everyday. I love Ron.

mtv, jail time, and black holes!

Bennie and I were cited for maintaining a disorderly house on Saturday night/Sunday morning. There were no more than fifteen people there and along with the outrageous number of officers (6) responding to (actually we found out there was no noise complaint), there was a camera crew from MTV filming a show called "Busted." Bennie and I declined to participate in the show. We're going to talk to the City Attorney on Wednesday as we have a variety of issues regarding the incident. Will keep you posted.

This all could be, of course, moot after Wednesday. The Large Hadron Collider (black hole machine) is being turned on for the first time this Wednesday in Switzerland. Although there is basically a consensus regarding the safety risk being non existent among scientists, just the mere fact that there is even a question is exciting. An American filed a lawsuit attempting to stop the machine.

"The more matter a black hole pulls in, the stronger it becomes. And that's what worries Walter Wagner, the American who is suing to temporarily stop the project. He says the creation of these black holes here on Earth, no matter how small, may unleash a chain reaction that could destroy the planet.

Wagner says there's a possibility that black holes could just get bigger and bigger as they pull more and more matter into themselves.

'Eventually, all of Earth would fall into such growing micro-black-holes, converting Earth into a medium-sized black hole, around which would continue to orbit the moon, satellites, and the (International Space Station),' according to court papers Wagner, along with a citizen of Spain, filed in Honolulu.

In other words, Wagner asserts the LHC is a machine that will end up causing the Earth to eat itself -- perhaps in less than a century."

I don't know who this Wagner character is, but let's all wait and see. This news really makes me wonder what I'm doing at work right now.

"The night is a clock chiming

The days go by not I."

My throat is noticeably better. This is the first time I can ever remember taking antibiotics. I wonder how bad my throat would have gotten had I decided not to go to the doctor. I guess there are perks to having health insurance that you're not afraid to actually use.

I'm thinking about having a get together this weekend. All of my friends are invited and if you're not sure if you fit into that category but are reading this somehow, you're invited too. If I don't know you the password will be "Guillaume Apollinaire," the French poet, not a member of the Lincoln East dance team. Ring the doorbell and present the password and you're in. It will be a theme party and the theme will be to dress like your cell phone so when someone calls you, your cell phone will answer your cell phone.

shit.

I'm just typing to type
now.

fuck.
I've never slept better in my life and I think you know why.

onces of coca-cola and a bladder full of noise

I purchased my Sigur Ros ticket. The 27th of September. Red Rocks. This will be my third time seeing them and I am hoping it will be more satisfying than the last time. I hope it will be chilly and am looking forward to a frosty evening on the rocks.

I was having a conversation earlier with someone who is interested in publishing a book of mine and/or a collaborative effort by Rachael and myself. He asked me which one I was more interested in and I couldn't really answer.

I'm interested in the collaborative effort more so out of some sort of aesthetic principle than anything else--i.e. destruction of self through the mashing together of others. This made me think about when I read Justin and Jeff a poem and Justin told me that my ego was out of my writing which made me write "The Ship" (which still isn't finished and still has blow jobs). I started thinking about approaches to writing a book and why I have so many reservations about a solo book. I am not interested in politics nor am I interested in a society's problems in relation to myself in general when writing a poem.

But there is something inherently political with my ideas about writing and my reservations regarding conventional approaches to putting something together like a book. It's not a conscious struggle against anything because I'm against anything, per se, rather it is a struggle against something because I am uninterested in it. The politics of language is something that interests me, not the politics of society. Can the two be separated? Where does a politics of language come from if not society itself--its conventions and such? I don't want to be Charles Bernstein and definitely have severe reservations regarding L-A-N-G-U-A-G-E poetry, but it certainly has a level of appeal that is wonderful and troubling at the same time. I guess these are the kinds of things that validate my continuing decision to put of grad school. I'd like to understand myself and my writing more. I feel like I would if I wrote more. I'd like to write more and have my friends help me with what the hell I'm trying to say or trying not to say.

What night would work for people regarding the resurgence of writer's group? I feel like we all could use some sort of accountability, especially those of us who are no longer in school.

It's raining, I think (I have no windows in my office), and I have to ride my bike home to feed my cats. I wish someone would come and pick me up, but she's not answering her phone and I've got grease stains on my khakis from my bike chain and I know that the back of my shirt has spots on it from the water coming up from my bike's back wheel this morning. It's alright. I'm alright. I'm alright.

Yeah.

I am.