February 2012
5 posts
it's not that i'm a squirrely bitch...
it’s just that i like squirrels
http://life.time.com/curiosities/a-squirrels-guide-to-fashion/#1
January 2012
5 posts
“i should not be dealing with baby mama drama. I’m jewish. this isn’t...”
“Well it’s all beginning to make sense now…. pacifying internal...”
– a lettter to opiates from the well-dressed woman in bed.
November 2011
3 posts
market exploration for children's books involving...
So in my current retiree lifestyle and all of the semi-sensational living it entails, I find myself again sporting my phantom walker before i shake it at the kids, what with my crumpets and daisies falling the hell apart and phantom yiddish expletives getting hurled hither and thither, as I consider if I could successfully rock climb my way out of this hole without actually setting anyone...
July 2011
1 post
I don't know, but I've been told.
This morning I awoke, half-dazed, throwing coffee in a cup, clothes on the body, stumbling half-dementedly to an intake appt for some good old fashioned therapy. Unfortunately, in this scenario, good and old-fashioned are not agreeable adjectives, but I found myself filling out forms and giving out oral history… sensitive only to the slight awkwardness of the intake person, the strange and...
June 2011
1 post
the black kettle's whistle: destination unknown
if only they knew.
if only they knew that despite the condition, despite the forecast and the trends…
if only they believed…
if only they knew something other then the dark corners of their own skin.
if only they saw, could see what I see.
if only for a little while….
If only they knew…
if only they found their own strength raising the dawn with intrepid fingers, and...
April 2011
1 post
for brilliant things you've thought and someone... →
March 2011
10 posts
hookersorcake asked: hellz yeahs - yeah tumblr is sadly lacking in metaphysical bathroom graffiti - but http://thedailydoodles.tumblr.com/ aka DMC does some different stuff
and http://whatafoolbelieves.tumblr.com/ aka Josh Luft is good
also Fireland aka Josh Allen has a new project http://www.tensexyladies.com/
you got anything?
and http://whatafoolbelieves.tumblr.com/ aka Josh Luft is good
also Fireland aka Josh Allen has a new project http://www.tensexyladies.com/
you got anything?
hookersorcake asked: Aww I shall have to put on my sweet britches
and sing openly to the sweet quiet black space
that rolls in place - quietly all around me
thank you
and sing openly to the sweet quiet black space
that rolls in place - quietly all around me
thank you
The Village of Dream
All the children had gone home now.
The day was done, and the calm was beginning to bloom throughout the land..
as the playdates and lunching and tasks to be completed could be put down- and soon, we rest.
The friendly face of the Moon smiled upon the many people going to and from - Offering to take their coats upon his hooks and hang them up until tommorrow, when the Sun would again grace...
Yellow Tales in a Mcdonald's on Utica Ave....
A tale.. of a yellow tail. A stomach….a big fat yellow stomach. A balloon sword…. maybe 10. How do you know the birthday party is going to be ghetto? There are 3 obvious hints.
1) you can hear the house music from down the block. the birthday child is 3. 2) the party for the 3 year old is at 9 o’clock at night. 3) It’s at a Utica Ave., Brooklyn McDonald’s at...
Welcome to Jew School! With your host.....
Clitsy Rachel Humsa L’Chaim.
hello goyim.. welcome to class.
i am doing this charity work on behalf of jews everywhere.
today in jew skool we will be learning jewish words.
note: yamaca is spelled yarmulke
yiddish:
ways to call someone an asshole with the letter s: shmendrick, schmuck, shmeggegge, schlameil, shlamazel, schnook, shnorrer.
you bastard! = mamzer!
you irish slut...
Jew School 2: Electric Boogaloo
With your host Sarah Clawdine Ruach Chestenstein Goldtuchus.
Welcome to class goys.
sit your ass down, it’s time to get yid.
these lessons are charity on behalf of jews everywhere. We want the goyim to finally get it.
So today’s lesson: womanhood. let’s break it down like this:
hassidic jew womanhood: at 20, my marriage is arranged, i have to shave my head, dress like a...
more jewish babbling....
with your ho-st chesty hocrapenmeyer la tushenfinkel.
welcome gentiles… to yet another round of the ol jew 1-2.
when i say kike.. make some noise. make some what? make some noise.
today’s class will be on random ways to identify that your talking to a heeb.
classic signs:
1) as mentioned before. wild gesturing of the hands. in fact, forget words at all, they’re...
Clown Tale 456. The Hoopdee-Hoo
Clown tale 456.
So… I lived in brooklyn. I drove the hoopdee of hoopdees, an 81 buick that I bought for $75 off a friend. She was 2-toned, which is kind for stripped. The door had to be tied on with rope. She was a sturdy tug-boat and her favorite coup de tat was to stall out in the middle of Manhattan intersections or highways. I put a furry steering wheel cover in fuzzy blue leopard on...
February 2011
6 posts
a moment in the din.
song plays on the satellite,
a din beyond the counter top,
the empty buzz of conversation,
the cramps and idlewild,
a short line railroad sold,
sometimes I can’t hear anything.
and the slum is grinning,
a dim stream in where is my candlelight,
the sum of a night bribed and barbed,
and a dark piece of promise,
you know how the light plays,
downward dog has made me godless,
or...
October 2010
1 post
marionettes in hi speed.
Dear Tumblr.,
I’ve tried to tango with you, and maybe I’m expecting too much, and maybe I’ve seen too little in the way of quality here. But here’s my issue… you’re not the oyster I had hoped you would be. I don’t like the schizophrenia or the lack of substance. Besides for me coming here at 5am to poly-germinate some poetry and an update on Corey...
September 2010
2 posts
descent.
these days are unwritten about.
the wheelbarrow rolling down the street.
peddling a daily high funeral in a bitter high heat.
these days are centrifigul…
it’s been the opposite of evolution,
the opposite of flowering within,
the even growth of beauty,
or even a taste of perfection in it’s elaborate flaws,
flaws that each carry,
never breathing from the same places,
and...
August 2010
2 posts
The suburbs are killing me slowly.
But it’s not just the prims and the blue-collared beasts, nor the 2.5’s and their hidden ‘isms. Fuck no.. it’s the lack of mobility in the center of it all.
July 2010
3 posts
life on my terms
virulent, succulent, absolutely abhorrent, sarcastic, booming, thick, swelling, macho with power, irreverent.
life on D’s terms:
decrepit, virulent, emaciated, presumptious, delirious, lack, empty, broke, steadfast, struggling, humorless, vacant, sick, deceptive, meaningless
May 2010
2 posts
turning on a..
and turning is what I do. like a tuning fork set to some sort of airlifted pitch. and solutions are not in reach, nor do I need them… just simple.. just something other then this reality.. this endless place of moon shoes and rotted pies and perfectly eclipsed suns.
pink squirts still taste like shit
even on tuesday afternoons in the midst of other people’s tourniquets, even in the midst of my own. even in the best hightop sneakers, and even at the behest of flying in the face of my own flaws, and their high noons. isolation isn’t just a circumstance, it’s the high crime of furloughed destitution, the decision amidst the bellowing walls of mourning, the decision amidst the...
April 2010
9 posts
Listen
fuck the story, but I'd never do that.
I’m selling good tales,
spinning good yarns for the proliferation of mad chalk.
and the curls aren’t fastened too hard,
and life isn’t gorgeous.. and fuck ok.
so I’ll tuck the mesh,
stiff the check,
style the dirge,
promise nothing,
expensive poverty still tastes cheap.
sick of the spitoon
and it’s all a spitoon,
the racey dreams,
and the dripping danks,
and the evolution of a ponyboy into a centaur.
or a pony girl into a unicorn,
and the silence is almost over.
I’m sick of slick,
sick of lipstick,
sick of cherries on shirts,
and little women gathering in wherever it is little women gather,
spitoon girl,
too much tragedy,
too much forlorn.
queen of the cess
drama was the swing in that checkered little playground and ignorance surely was king.
and the truth it gets obscured, but feels bright and sharp, and his freestyle is fried green tomatillos,
I’m displaced from the board, sans the crown, sans the heart, sans the root, and the rootdown, and the umpteen shades.
I’ve got the velvet cuffs and the bell-sleeves,
but without the...
