YOU ONLY HAVE CONTROL OVER THE CONDITIONS. NOT THE OUTCOME.

Whatever happens. Do your best. Um, but I'd really like you to win.

ELEPHANT CASTLE PING PONG

Grounding my cares sharp. I put to the test this space of being.

I become a post.

A SOUND POEM

Looking back at my old posts, saw this sound collage from 2006 that I did in collaboration with Kate Gorman as part of a yet-to-be-realized project called The Working Poor.

I'm pleasantly surprised by much of the piece. It's a tad slow, but harkens back to my days of digging Scanner.

THIS IS NOT A POEM

This is a piece of garbage.
Please. Pay attention.

If this were a real poem, I'd be sending out a mass email about it. If this were a real poem I'd care if words were right. If it were a real poem I'd have to do something subtle and arguably referential but not too referential.

Particularly involving a megaphone.

This is not a fucking poem. Because I've told you.

This is a piece of garbage. This a fucking sweat rag. This is a piece of me that was never born. This is John McCain's nightmare.

See, there, there I go, trying to be popculture referential. Screw that. I'm not looking for attention. I'm just looking out for this poem. Yeah, I'm being honest now. This is a poem. And I was trying to be modest. And I failed. And I was trying to trick myself. And I failed. Bags and bags and bags of weak sauce. Dripping onto the floor and never being cleaned up.

Good morning.

NEW THINGS WILL BE EASY

The first time, the mind deals in the real.
It's the real deal when mind meets matter.
The mind's real deal happens. It meets and greets.

INCLINE YOUR THINKING FROM JUDGMENT TO UNDERSTANDING

Incline your thinking. Eat your heart's breaking until with nothing but dripping from your wounds, you recall a place to say I can't do anymore. Have a meal. Come here. You mister! You mister! You!

Bright lady piece of pie. A settlement. A church steeple with cupcakes. Welcome to my puppet life.

I'm still running from looking angry. I'm still afraid of the dark and what others might say if they knew. I'm still unaccepting of the sticky that shoots. I'm still angry and irrational. I'm still eighteen.

A blank curse. You are intense. Paper thin walled-in blend of spirit cell exposure through scientific procedure. Standing strong, with big bag lunch.

To suffer is to human. To want. To play Parcheesi. To understand you are misunderstoodoodood.

Leaps you out of your financial situation and turns you into a provider. It turns mortals into mothers.

That at some point something unexpected will happen. That wise people think bad thoughts. That there is peace beyond the question.

ZOMBIES??? YES

Went to Bread and Puppet's performance of the Sourdough Philosophy Circus at St. Stephen's Church in DC. Revelry mixed with dissent and Michael Jackson. A yummy recipe indeed.

NOODLING

I am a noodle. Full of carbs and power and squiggly goodness. I am a noodle getting ready to be eaten. I am a noodle in a bowl full of noodles. Squiggling and wriggling and hugging up against other noodles full of carbs and power and wiggly goodness. All of us, getting ready to be eaten.

PLUNGE

I'm trying to figure out how to live life abundantly in face of the facts that what I thought was abundance may have paled in comparison to the real deal.

CALL ME I'M ONLY BECAUSE I CARE

I'm leaving this note like breadcrumbs.

We need not discuss it in person.

I'm suddenly unsure. I've used breadcrumbs but never digits. These aren't consumable notes. They're barely biodegradable and I doubt archival.

This is going to have to be my last expression of unease. This is going to have to open up my heart. And somehow I will give into the situation at hand and become an arousing speaker. A shill. A person who cares less.

I don't need you to call. Hrrumph.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR EFFORT

What is life about? Breathe. Eat. Desire. Stink up the joint. Forget the keys. Inexplicably cause French tourists to think you're Moby (true story).

So, here's a toast to my self. Never change dood. Just keep your eyes open.

[Rehabberwocky illustration props to Alan Defibaugh. RAWK!]

WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT... REHABBERWOCKY!!!!!

Alright children. Take a seat. It's so great to see all of you today. Who's ready for a story? Charles, stop playing with your He-man. Thank you. Let's begin.

This is a story of a hairless, hair-brained hero. After many years of searching, our hero found a really cool playground, with a lot of really cool ways to play. In fact, this playground was so awesome, there were an INFINITE amount of ways to play.

But, and here's the catch kids, if our hairless hero didn't pay attention, sometimes spending time in the playground meant rocks getting in his shoes. Or, on rare occassions, playing in the playground meant needing to go to the hospital.

Who here's been to the hospital before? What for? Nose bleeds. Sprained ankles. Yep. Broken bones. Yep. Yes Kelly? I'm sorry, I can't hear you... Oh, yes, a broken heart. That's right. All of these things happened to our hair-brained hero.

But sometimes, when our hero really concentrated on having fun and enjoying himself, some magical shit would happen. And that's why he kept coming back to the playground. Even when he was worried he might get hurt again.

So, all that to say, if you're in the DC area on Thursday June 26 or July 3rd at 8pm, please come to my one-man improv show Rehabberwocky. Tickets are $10. I'll post more info soon.

Okay kids. Have a great day in class.

RELY ON THIS

I love people. Because they're always there. You can rely on that. Ya know?
They won't be there the way you want them. They might smell a little funny. And they might say things that seem so real you spit.

But you can always rely on people to be there. Standing. Sitting. Yelling. Making split pea soup. Or just breathing.

Well, that is, until they're not there. Which you can also rely on.

LORD WON'T YOU BUY ME A MERCEDES BENZ?

Breathe, eat, breathe, eat, breathe, eat, sleep. Rinse. Repeat. Yum.


My friend Aaron's been writing tons about my fave pastime. Yay.

Barton Seaver opened up a Maine-style eatery. Rainbow trout, asparagus and mac & cheese featured above. Yippee.

Sometimes, you have to eat a shoe. Yikes.

THE DREGS

I'm seeing things. Yellow and blue and white and black. Solid structures and weird geometries. A bottle of beer pub pour. A palette knife. An old zine of mine called Detritus. V. 1 Issue 2. 1998 Sample page:

13.


TiCkLe ToRtUrE
consanance
AwKwArD ArChEr
asonance
WhIpS aNd ChAiNs
PeNaNcE

IMAGINE WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE WHOLE

So... you'll excuse me if I ask this question. And, you're allowed to get angry with me if you have to. Is everything alright?

Cause, I can't help but noticing that your head has exploded. And I see you're acting liking everything is fine and dandy. In fact, you've been signing that exact phrase, "Everything is fine and dandy," ever since you got out of bed, showered, put on a suit and then tried to shove oatmeal down your shattered gullet.

Look, I can't imagine what you went through when you realized your head was gone. I can understand you might be in denial.

Excuse me, stop shoving. Seriously, stop it. Thank you.

Look, I'm not sure how you're going to find your way to the office. And, to be honest, I'm not sure they're going to want you. Not that they'll say anything. The ACLU will make sure of that. If you want to continue as normal, you have the right. It's just. Look. Things are not normal. This is not normal.

Okay, that's gross. Now you've stained your suit. Here, if you promise to stop I'll go get some tonic water and a rag.

Wait, are you walking away from me? Holy shit. This is crazy. This is so like you. Guilting me into second guessing myself.

YOUR FUCKING HEAD IS BLOWN OFF!

Okay, fine. You know what? I'll give in.

EVERYTHING IS HUNKY DORY. I AM NOT WORRIED. HAVE A GOOD DAY...

Oh geez. Hey sweety. I'm sorry...

Will you just turn around for a second?
Come on back and get the lunch I packed you...

Sorry I yelled. I hope you have a good day. I love you. I really do. We'll figure this thing out. Okay? Alright?

Thank you, but woah, woah careful this suit is new. Okay, there we go. I love you bunches too. You're my sweet bumpkin. Yes, that's so true. Okay. You're going to be late. See you tonight. Smooches.

[JGP Photo Props]

Lane Walking In the Green

I'm happy to announce, that the rest of life will be the same.

These aisles are freezing.

Just keep walking.

Thingy

The business of calling the things that don’t make sense is the business of being a part of the big picture. The big picture is the business of calling things. The person calling things is the ref. The ref is in the business of calling things that don’t make sense. The things that don’t make sense make sense if the ref is calling them. Because if the ref is calling them then they must make sense. The ref is trusted.