FCC Okays Nudity On TV If It’s Alyson Hannigan | Delaware Poet Turns into New Mexican Poet, Clouds Rain Fruit Loops on Obama
March 6, 2008 at 9:35 pm | In Albuquerque, Blackbird's Buvette, Clouds Rain Fruit Loops on Obama, Culture, FCC Okays Nudity On TV If It’s Alyson Hannigan | Dela, Fetish, Green Chiles, Janine Lindemulder, Life, Living, Love, Mas Poetry, My Life, Newark, Delaware, Out Ch'Yonda, Poetry, Sneezing, The Onion | Leave a CommentSo, I’m having a fantastic time in Albuquerque. The city is so beautiful; at some point I’m going to take a bunch of pictures of all the amazing sights that I have seen thus far and post them up on here so all my Delaware and Massachusetts friends and family can see how it is out here. The job search is going slowly, but both surely and well. I’m being very diligent and treating this job search (in a manner of speaking) like the job that I have now. But I’ve had interviews already and will get more. The poetry scene out here is wild. I went to a poetry slam (IWPS format!) at a place called Blackbird’s Buvette in downtown Albuquerque last night and had a blast. I didn’t advance very far (thanks in part to drawing a “1″ in the lots), but that’s okay. Last night was like a lot of slams out here – fantastic and very high quality. There’s some wonderful competition out here. So far, since I’ve got here, I have competed in three slams, all of which were qualifiers to get into the semifinals competition to make the 2008 Albuquerque Poetry Slam Team. I placed third overall in the first slam I competed in (at Mas Poetry, at Winning Coffee by UNM), getting 5 points there. Then I won (!) a slam at a place called Out Ch’Yonda in the Barelas part of ABQ, getting 20 points there. Then there’s the 1 point I earned last night from just having competed in the slam. So, I’ve got 26 points total. The points are not the point. Green chiles are the point.
Also, I found this video clip on the Onion online today and I had to share it.
And yes, I agree with the FCC spokesman’s premise.*
*or, Salma Hayek.
Mature Poet Imprisoned By Lame Clothes In Amusing Sendup Of Indoctrination Videos
February 27, 2008 at 9:36 pm | In Albuquerque, Beauty, Culture, Delaware, Desire, Dreams, Fanblades, Hollywood Dragon God, Jebediah the Rabbit, Jennifer Connelly, Life, Love, Mature Poet Imprisoned By Lame Clothes In Amusing Sendu, New Mexico, Newark, Poetry, Rich Boucher, Slam Poetry, Work, i, i Fanblades | Leave a Comment
So….I’m still job-hunting and looking for work out here. Yesterday I had a brief job interview with an auto dealership and I have to take a pee test tomorrow for said job. It’s an auto sales job with a guaranteed $2000/month for the first two months. I’m kind of hoping this works out, even though the job requires quite the bus trip to make it there. But I’m still looking.
Lots of cool poetry stuff out here, too.
So far, so good!
Age 39 and thumbing through my own back pages
January 27, 2008 at 2:06 pm | In Age 39 and thumbing through my own back pages, Culture, Delaware, Life, Love, My Back Pages, Newark, Rich Boucher, Thoughts | Leave a Comment
My Back Pages
by Bob Dylan
Crimson flames tied through my ears
Rollin’ high and mighty traps
Pounced with fire on flaming roads
Using ideas as my maps
“We’ll meet on edges, soon,” said I
Proud ‘neath heated brow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I’m younger than that now.
Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth
“Rip down all hate,” I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull. I dreamed
Romantic facts of musketeers
Foundationed deep, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I’m younger than that now.
Girls’ faces formed the forward path
From phony jealousy
To memorizing politics
Of ancient history
Flung down by corpse evangelists
Unthought of, though, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I’m younger than that now.
A self-ordained professor’s tongue
Too serious to fool
Spouted out that liberty
Is just equality in school
“Equality,” I spoke the word
As if a wedding vow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I’m younger than that now.
In a soldier’s stance, I aimed my hand
At the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not that I’d become my enemy
In the instant that I preach
My pathway led by confusion boats
Mutiny from stern to bow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I’m younger than that now.
Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
Too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect
Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I’m younger than that now.
So I have some ideas for Nintendo…
January 3, 2008 at 3:07 am | In Avy Scott, Big Beefy Gravy, Big Girls, Blind Girls Named Diane, Delaware, Drunk Women Suck, Eva Angelina, First Person Shooters, First Person Touchers, Guns and Roses, Hello Kitty, Larry Love, Life, Living, Love, Newark, Nintendo, Poetry, So I have some ideas for Nintendo, The Wilmington Delaware News Journal, Video Games, iFran | 2 Comments
and here’s one:
a video game (for the Nintendo DS) where you take the role of a first person toucher. Many popular video games put you into the vantage point of the First Person Shooter, where you never see more of yourself than your own hand, and you shoot your machine gun at people, and, at things. In my game, you go around touching things (and people, and, parts of people) until time runs out. Or, until the cops come to get you. Or, until someone big enough and angry enough punches you out. You score points every time you touch something or someone you are not supposed to touch. The in-game view would be very similar to games in the FPS genre, except that you won’t be holding a gun in your hand. You’ll simply have your bare hand, and you can go up to random people, places and things and just touch stuff to find out what you are and are not supposed to be touching. Go up to a Dunkin’ Donuts, in the game, and go behind the counter and start touching the tops of all the donuts on the rack until they guy (or girl) behind the counter starts to scream at you. Go up and start touching people. Women’s chests, men’s bums, just see how far you go.
Mind you, this is just a rough draft of an idea at this point.
no christmas this year
December 15, 2007 at 7:52 pm | In Christmas, Culture, Delaware, Life, Love, Newark, Thoughts, apologies, no christmas this year | Leave a Commentfor me.
no christmas this year for me.
no christmas this year for me.
now I know what it’s like.
I’m sorry.
Be Of Good Cheer (and take an extra 10% off all your hopes and dreams)
December 8, 2007 at 12:37 am | In Christmas, December, Delaware, Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Holly Jolly, Jimmy Stewart, Life, Love, Miracle, Poem, Poetry, Rants, Retail, Song, Thoughts, Verse | Leave a Comment
it’s a suicidal christmas
with blood all over the tree
and green one hundred dollar bills
out of reach for me
it’s a suicidal christmas
and in case you couldn’t tell
old saint nick is really old black scratch
and the reindeer ride in hell
and when the season’s work is done
the grim reaper will come
(yo, ho, ho)
and he’ll have some fun
(whoa, whoa, whoa)
on a suicidal christmas
{instrumental break}
it’s a suicidal christmas
light the fuse and count to ten
a goodbye kiss under the mistletoe
and then a “boom” and then, and then,
tra la la la la la la la
{outro saxophone solo w/glockenspiel riff}
Second Draft of a New Poem
November 28, 2007 at 11:18 pm | In Angels, Art, Artistic Nudes, Autumn Fair, Chemistry, Delaware, Downfall, Drafts, Dream, Dreaming, Dreams, Heaven, Love, Oranges, Performance, Poetry, Rabbits, Second Draft, Seraphs, The Police, Thoughts, Vivid, Whispers, Wilmington, Wilmington, Delaware, Wish, Women, Wonder, Wordpress, Worship, Writing, XXX | Leave a Commentviolin strings hang a man with the deafening song of a sunset,
and an artist goes mad in the study of your rib cage darkening
you’re trying to figure out
how to make this girl an angel
you wonder if you have the colors you will need
and the brushes, and the knives, and the eye
why are you trying to figure out
how to make this girl an angel?
you can’t think; hard to be sure if a little black
mixed in with the blue will be enough
why do you think you have what it takes
to make this girl an angel?
what marriage of darkness and light will,
with the clarity of a dream, show how far into the morning she flies?
who are you to make the dark, pink flesh
emerge from the canvas like blood from a cut?
the iron gates at the base of heaven
are chained shut: no one in, no one out
was it wise to make her try to rise up
into a sky full of rain late at night?
and you gave her mere tatters of white lace, billowing
barely enough to cover her breasts and her sex
you could change the color of her wings
in your creation
but you let them stay gray,
and began to work on the lightning behind her
what is her name,
this angel your brush
has trapped between heaven and earth
and
who do you think you are
Nothing Can Save Us But For The Possible Exception Of Disco
November 13, 2007 at 9:50 pm | In Al Franken, CNN, Culture, Delaware, Disco, Hutus, John Cena, Love, Machetes, Music, Paper Mache, Poetry, Politics, STFU, Slam, Soledad O'Brien, Video | Leave a CommentOsama House Music.
http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=f2b_1194883763
Whoa, Sama.
Lama Ding Dong.
‘Nuff said.
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