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my E l e c t r o n i
c pen ... the 2010 edition ... the second decade,
continues here
it's December nov 30 6:56 please tell me it's payday on this orange sky day poots slept, scant early becomes later quickly and once again, poots is rushing sunrise sunrise weather from the fireman he appeared there; here; the java disappeared more, with a beer spoon, maks a racing heart there's something in here; a story; romeo would tell one tuesday in pootland the itchy spot is itchy, it's winter investments : up mortgage : down rrsp : up payday : a new payday amount is good it's difficult to read but what else is there, facebook and my passat? i used to think it was the other way around, that life didn't justify war; evil; in fact i never believed in evil i never believed in the devil and now? now that i read about him in a book? why is he more real now? Romeo believes in God because he saw the Devil, should i? payday for poots and boots pay those bills, poots, it's winter now it's winter 7:27 not an airplane nov 29 7:26 tiny letters tiny space tiny voice this brain needs omega3 it's a simple cure and what words will i whirl around the web today i had a story i forgot a story they come and then they leave, does it really matter what web i weave danny williams/als/wikileaks are in the news in our news/a house i hate/but cannot say/sunny skies and a punished child and a hamster thats feels more lighter than before lunch to be made; dishwasher to run; and the night is as long as the day, she say does it really matter what i write here it won't change what i am unplanned yet planning daunting yet undaunted pretending yet unpretentious nov 26 7:53 no time - the mornings get away from me. we sleep in. no champagne. quickly. i've become other people. i let things slip. i spend money on the wrong things. i don't always care. the fruit bowl gets empty. what's up with that. he wakes me up with harsh, impatient noises. i am impatient. but am i harsh? toolarge now with no explianation nov 23 7:48 there were bells and a dream no i never saw them coming i never saw them at all and day after day i wake to slow infusions infusions of heartbeats makeup products, scantily placed and searching through brainspace for just the right words to carve my michaelangelo out of the digital cave who will know it's here until tomorrow comes... longer sentances are coming to win us family sleeping perilously late this time less golden if i rush for you, i'm always rushing and for you, there are always bells nov 22 7: 37 first words nov 21 7: 57 grumblings no sunday paper not comfy cold what's to say but to complain today. coffe's not warm enough; house is a mess; again; no tooth fairy... distracted by cartoons; can't think' feet asleep; the hamster is selfish? all there is to do here is work. nov 19 java low, poots sits. and sips. it was a night of sleep wake to friday obama cries nov.18 afternoon inspiration
what
inspires
what
breathes
lives
in
me
blue
as
my
eyes
hungover
in
all
respect
and
tied
to
this
chair
with heaven
in my ears
his piano
dances; yet sings;
my face
still soft
my body light
in spite
smiles curve
up the side of poot's mouth
a sigh
raises the chest that sings on drolet street
sit up poots
turn slowly
and type into your piano
make this
music you call your life
you follow
them
as you go
word by
painstaking word
they flow,
evanescence needs a dictionary
but all the
rest glide off your closed tongue
listening to
December in November
gliding down
st denis - with all of them but no one - is the beauty joe henry wrote
of
together
alone again
typing
how else
would you type but fast and poetically
she says
as her small
delicate hands type to the beauty of jesu joy of man's desiring
in the other
window, fenetre, in french, for you simon
lots of love
lust lost words rolling out of this place and i'm seeing them faster
now as my entire body moves to the music that is the compliation
of my life
and the only thing i really feel at home doing, magically i've
discovered that and magically magically magically magically i see it
and would
you share this with anyone but nicholas in the next room as he toils
away, a younger self, a young man still, in all his rights,
and what can
he learn from you, you have much learnt from him in ways that are hard
to define in these words
we've got
three more minutes together you and i
longer than
December,
November,
louder,
louder,
the
moves
i
imagine
her
doing
are
me
moving with her, around her, next to him,
and how loud
is the typing under the sounds of December
1 more
minute of minutae
coffee
alan
breathe
poots
breathe
nov. 18 7:32am ive written words for nothing; said goodbyes and inflicting more pain, come here it's mind over matter on all fronts except what matters and i'm reaching; stretching; burning; i'm still a little drunk quarter to eight i need you now will it matter more enough, says a singing poot veiled words now veiled thoughts veiled veils nov. 16 on the other side - mobsters are probably believers - in a contradiction of fate the paper bores the child shouts i'm not awake another sunny morning fills the poothouse showers run, water's free, and when i asked the gentle looking woman why she was on the street asking for money as i put a five into her aging left hand she smiled ever so humbly and answered 'sometimes i just don't have enough money' (in french in our fair city) i pulled out two more and told her to go home she smiled and thanked me and i felt right in a sad way nov. 13 paperless, glassessless poots needs to get her glasses early light, warmness, coldness, hits the wall i watch nov. 12. the year before i was born, they wrote this "Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter. Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter. Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade. Don't tell me not to fly, I've simply got to. If someone takes a spill, it's me and not you. Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade!" Bob Merrill/Jule Styne can't say i'm in a meppish mood bubbling bubbling candy and butter friday friday a week without nothing ends on a cleaner note monday will come nov. 13 paperless, glassessless poots needs to get her glasses early orange light, warmness, coldness, hits the wall i watch monday, music, morning, it's not monday yet, but it's morning need 2 eat more poots alone again naturally cannot be bough alone again nov. 12. the year before i was born, they wrote this "Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter. Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter. Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade. Don't tell me not to fly, I've simply got to. If someone takes a spill, it's me and not you. Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade!" Bob Merrill/Jule Styne can't say i'm in a meppish mood bubbling bubbling candy and butter friday friday a week without nothing ends on a cleaner note monday will come nov 11 watching the plants die day by day midcycle leaves poots blaring nov 10 can you see me doing a happy dance? last of november leaves waving in the wind, through the organza, they reflect my joy solid body, solid mind, poots sits taut and so write, poots, write. what can we say about wondering what an eight year old thinks about thinking that maybe comfort is all they require; and love and then, what they think will become their own volition not yours and their own trials tribulations how differently can they be built? maybe very. and trust in them is all you can have photo de la classe snap we won't speak of unspeakables today (there were 2) poots has slept and its time for joy in the mEp so wanderings of a house; it's thereof or lack of what makes a house fancy black socks hanging neatly in the basement they weren't really forty-two dollars but it makes for a great sory lots of odd food halloween chocolates strewn from here to there still - ! abused plants frozen toys and a cheque for 110$ every thursday --- there's that golden sun again, hitting the patio it's painted light of a certain colour; my camera doesn't do it justice take my word; it's renaissance light :-) and the winds of change blow through what would i do without simon? nov 09 i wish it to stay dark after a longish night seeing 1, seeing 2, seeing 3.... tiny creases on a face that didn't stay long enough for folding ears shaky, am i still sick? sip sip sip conversations that aren't had; those that were, telling i spy my glasses! cracking through words isn't enough - cohesive phrases are required or poetry here, for my life, of my life iambic pentameter and words that hit the page at the speed of typing this is what a happy poots makes and so less colliding perhaps is required less humbled less seventeen will leave us where in a rectangular space, the awning blows in november morn it's colour bringing me back to el segundo at 6AM did you ever think that would comfort you, poots, and not in a million years... we're writers we; for better or for worse; you cannot erase this nor will i and if you can't do it, i hope you dance so poots is heating milk on the fancy new stove; we last did that on Andrasy street in Budapest; was it really that long ago? milk in a pot is careful it's organic it's hot milk in a pot but it's not hot anymore ----- 7.31am the family is bushed sleeping still moments of shoulders down waiting for bubba scratching every hour photos today and what lies for poot let's try longer sentances ----- more java or no? what uniform will i wear today? will u answer my email? will i find something useful to do? those are not longer sentances poots you're getting longer but getting not far and when i woke up this mornin' u were on my mind....... nov 08 cold uninspired but here. a rumbly little inexpensive car delivers my paper. i remember the smell of 38 inserts i was little. so was he. i am more interesting than any of that ink. aren't i? ... you know i have a house it's my job to keep it clean there aren't many rooms more java it's always a question; always unknown; how private is private in this place or the world am i here alone peering from behind this black and white space no one will 'friend' me here, hide me, or like what i say i found terry reynard and i drove him away again... ... the paper still folded, on broadway and song the java, one cube is making it strong; little poots, still alive, is choosing her rhyme and i, just onlooking, am biding my time ... how much mEpping she asks, will tell us the way how much prose on a wall on each given day ... a headache in hand well what else is new i'm still not awake here nor anywhere folded ears folded arms short of breath short of time publish poots publish goodbye nov.7 7:42am but not really  have we slept now. i think we have. funny tongue things and stirrings. grey grey november grey take me on a sunday contemplation divides the right and the left warm milk and the java are ok but not the same on the longest day of they year how long does bubbly last one swiss visit and these letters appear one by one painfully i can't think so slow close the other windows still no why weren't there 100 people at the 100 birthday party if parents divorce, is it possible that neither of them wants the kid and just leaves it behind? when will i be able to eat the cookie at church? lept nov.6 8:12am the ryhthm of a daily words with myself here, comforts me saturday with us allows for more thought maybe showers us with showers? yesterday was dennice the mennace day. by a freak of chance, i heard the words twice blue sky poking thru now sip java poots nov.5 6:32am yesterday didn't happen. a groggy-headed poot early recounts yesterday a few more sips and settlement will come humming whirring machines are all that moves dark little house ; dark city ; dark head inside; lighter outside ; who was that masked man? stirring, guts, body, not brain no paper yet did i check? can't remember work sick sick work publish, for simon will this head be fixed on time oh no let's be lofty now, large and round on bottom, between the eyes from the top that's how to hit that high 'D' kathryn says did i deserve this headache more coffee please what it won't fix doesn't concern me now 9am meeting... should i run, wear jeans again, or simply bow out probably i'll run but i'll need some food let's check for the paper did i sleep at all last night? is this really real http://www.nationalpost.com/todays-paper/MARKETS+FEED+LIQUIDITY/3780462/story.html 7:06 now boots stirs poots, not so much repas chaud swimming digital migration cocktails makes a friday in november for poots, boots, and toots and i just knew there was something i was going to say about people who can't spell; nov.3 7:34 AM when i woke up this morning u were on my mind... stir, poots. chew. a dizzy grogginess and mostly a sore folded ear awake me from my slumber; it's still november still cold and i'm still here singin' songs are still in my mind i'll take serena along for the walk to the corner anytime beautiful music juxtaposed in what still hurts imagine if either could only know this world that's mine, all mine, and only mine. suck it in poots st ambroise doesn't help but Tokebi is relaxing so on a tuesday night more java quickly for this nearly throbbing head, but why? everyone's dancing around the facebook pole; moving on parties haunt me valerie's missing someone, she lost a son, reference for those of us michael's making political references jessica and the hamster others go to bed with no moon and the maltese one becomes more friends with people who's names i can't pronounce ok, so not dancing, just surviving there. inside what we'll be late today the java's stale my foot's asleep turn off your brain no challenge at work show up in a suit the boss is away republicans to the left of me; homework to the right; i can't chew hard enough today for you to hear me now ...swirling photo memories hopping in the lighted colours already dusty in cyberworld; shall i print small copies and show them to james my coveted veiled prose is really no longer a match for this world; and a family wakens upstairs rambling is good. nov.2 winter white 7:37 AM i want to say the world's colliding in a spectrum of 3 week rejection notices, properties sold, and old neighbour's divorces, but i know it's not true cold toes, sugary coffee, stiff brain and women in the newspaper will only get younger second cup life beckons slowly poot does not wake up nov.1 WHITE RABBITS 7:31 AM a groggy poots, post halloween rum facebook grief; need more coffee; out of time for thinking today oct 31 8:07 AM nearly peace, by 4 minutes. can't do this by cartoons. dig out yesterdays paper, poots. waking up won't be slowly today. oct 30 7:42 AM giving is a priority. for those who count the pennies to shut the lights, maybe not. but some mEpwords stick. it's not a halloweeny forecast and poots needs to move after broken sleep oct 29 8:24 PM in a box in the mep on the page through the lens facebook hell faces me now and then again, and again, and again costumed poots and toots parade and there is nothing else to say that fills me up oct 28 9:55PM you wake up and reality paints all over u years go by all of a sudden you missed beauty the hungarians disagree in the kitchen plastic containers missing the woman left and he's opening it's rare and it makes him more hungarian but i don't know why gentle men surround me now oct 27 8:15AM ghostly ! aghastly ! two thousand dollars dissappears we need updating on how much money that is in 1965 it was someone's annual income in 1975 it paid the rent for a year in 1985 it bought a car, downpayment on a house in 1995 a trip to europe 2005, daycare for 2 months and in 2010, it's negative two thousand, even before i look for a new camera, laptop, boots, and a trip to San Remo. not early but i'm alone. grey swimming day, woke itchy at 5am. i'm itchy still. it's time for a good steak; a stretch; and to hang the paintings. the art world is far i fear. in every cell of me, but elusive still they're not my choices to make i've never made them and it wont' happen now and that's a fact to swallow scratch poots oct 26 733AM rising tides, let me speak, let them sleep. i'll find a new kind of beauty in the world in me and i'll spread it, as i've done before you'll see fighting to feel sexy daily is a job for most they parade and how many are caught in their net as they waft down the hall expensive or cheap plastic or faux you can't see their struggle but i do - - - - - - - - rotting gourds now omar is guilty java complete some clarity is returning, well good for me. oct 25 729AM dark morning on poots street java slowly wakes me, ringing ears distract me sleep slowly warm the cockles warm the pen chisel poots, into the digital cave last one standing pure and free oct 24 is
there
a
manuscript
in
the
mEp;
alone; cold; did i say alone. make white space black and white. java tepid tepidation warmer java and lots of heaters barely moments left for inside me worlds sleep worlds spin warmer would be nice. dig poots, dig. it's in there somewhere. italian magazines plumbing bills four empty walls. to make it interesting, we dragged ourselves four, to places no longer familiar hedonism on every face; music throbbing through faint hearts lives colliding momentarily looking for glue or whatever makes moments stick together the phone will soon ring the night soon wrapped up the day soon spent spun collided black. and white. how much java does a wake poot make stirring oct 22 notalotof words On a cold dark october friday in the mEp. turn a page, spill some words take your time how many things can words fix that can't be said perspective is all it's all about how big is the truth and who has the explanation not i. are they really gone, those two smiling faces... and what does it mean to be crazy? chiseling shoulders square let's pretend it is exactly what it is B5 TSX weathers storm during choppy week i slept all night morning came what's new and why did he know these lyrics It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now Said I wouldn't call but I've lost all control and I need you now And I don't know how I can do without I just need you now
10... 21 ... 2010 evidence overwhelming scant sleep
october 19.... 2010 five days later i'm done. i will find beauty again somehow the java has no taste; the colonel is a pervert: am i i still have words but they won't work on your heart will they. alt-tab between the mep and the matrix (fb) it's ok. the tasteless java will percolate and you will attend said meeting you are prepared...and...not... ears ringing heart pumping october 17.... 2010 we survived the weekend. ok, i survived the weekend. here i am in my private corner with very little unprivate to say what do desparate people do; i wouldn't know til wednesday but at least i have a private corner. music runs right thru me; there's more space there now which tippytoeing mepwords will fill me up i need to find them or i'll crack open or throw up nothing how many more weeks will fill me up landscapes are broad; vast; empty for now i'm very rarely lonely and my heart's never before been broken... lives of faces flash before my eye's mind i've touched them all will anyone ever look at me that way... "no wonder he loves her; no wonder at all. the moment she sees him her thought is to please him before he has the chance to tell her he's chilly she'll put a log on the fire fulfilling his every desire ... no wonder he he likes it it's perfect thsi way who wouldn't want someone who fusses and flatters who makes you feel you're all that matters? who's only aim in life is to please you and makes you think she doesn't deserve you? no wonder he loves her what else could he do? if i were a man, i would to. -Alan and Marilyn Bergman, Yentl many piles of neat quarters to my left; a never-ending puzzle box; half-eaten food, and a hand reaching my chest i'm still seeing some beauty in some unusual things i cannot tell you what no date entered
all of a sudden it's dark, i'm cold, and i'm tired. we all know what's fear and joy at the same time not sleeping trembling; where are you simon i need u now the wrong lyrics ring true; the wrong thing happened; beauty, now shame; no fear without pain poots has drawn a blank a rare moment in the configuration of her life: and the empty space here beckons if only to reflect let the wild tumbling begin and when i land ... wake me up october 15.... 2010 well here's a day that ends differently. i'm glad it's ended.
october 15.... 2010 i'm up. the entire house sleeps; fish alike mEpwords abound java percolates poots is back. fireworks in all directions point at the same space inside, i'm twelve again wake up, little poots, look around, take stock it's been a while and miraculously, the littlest one is hungry on this day this day. was that sleep i had or merely altered states keep adding poots, keep adding and so, beauty is now mine to find. mine. this flatter stomach takes a breath and some focus comes shoulders down he called you little poots and you told him the story of the wallaby sip - both hands on the big mug today. momentarily, fear, and simultaneously joy how does one spell simultaneous those moments come back now those only created by trauma, and the only trauma i knew was dragging myself to california and back. it's the only inspiration i have now the smell of jet fuel at 5.30 am in el segundo in the dark i drove him to work what drove me to do that? but the drive along sepulveda; the long, long drive, wound with christmas, canyons, whole foods, and hermosa, ends here and now. it's not black and white, poots, but it's everyone looking a the same coin, isn't it all those sparks; all this joyful fear; is pointing somewhere you need to concentrate. you need to focus. you were professional once too, remember. you were. but yoga, nor alan, nor acbis, nor fish, is taking you back. need a new plan of attack and forty-five more minutes, rona the hamster stirs. how much
coffee lowers my shoulders
how much damage to pretend you're somewhere you want to be how much money to really be there... no love lost, if there's no love sparks move me sparks bring me here sparks play with me sparks make everything beautiful everything fun they bring whimsy to my black and white world sparks make my shoulders square, my hips round, and my hands together over a space that doesn't feel green at all but first, they send me soaring, bursting, outside myself where i have little control where everything is possible where everyone is possible where i only see beauty in all it's colors, in all it's tones, in my knees, and in your knees too. so of course i'm all over the place! and there's no where else i'd rather be six forty-seven
october 14.... 2010
it's everywhere i turned today surreal but there from louiseville to grandmont and to louise inside and out four hours of throbbing music; throbbing inside: throbbing out; running thru permutations, combinations, calculations someone, not knowing, has succeeded in more ways than one i can do the math i can add it up
wednesday, october 13.... 2010
writing with certain trepidation at the end of a long day. feeling magical all over miners freed, keys found, poots will sleep tonight. Would you mind if I pretended we were somewhere else, doing something we wanted to, 'Cause all this living makes me wanna do, is die because I can't live with you, and you don't even care. Would you mind if I pretended I was someone else, with courage in love and war. I use to think that's what I was, but now this lying hurts to much, and I don't know what for. I'm weak in the knees for you, but I'll stand if you want me to. My legs are strong and I'll move on, but hunny I'm weak, in the knees. Would you mind if I walked over and I kissed your face, infront of all your friends. Would you mind if I got drunk and said, I wanna take you home to bed, Oh would you change your mind? I'm weak in the knees for you, but I'll stand if you want me to. My legs are strong, and I'll move on, but hunny I'm weak, in the knees, for you serena ryder
wednesday, october 13.... 2010
work through arpeggios with kathrin; through nights of bad sleep with the mEp; and through daily life, a marriage, and anything else that might take some energy. it's mostly mind over matter everyone else does it, and more... but they have to, says cynthia. alas. and that was the comment that set me about here on sept.26 "you've always been peddling downhill" were her words at 45, i'm determined to change that. what's the fun in downhill? what's the reward, even worse. and, what's the accolades. nothing. it's a zip zip zippy morning for poots on this wednesday. down faster, java, words, spit spot, and back upstairs quickly to shave those armpits.
october 12.... 2010
music to
move me a sleep
to ruin me we know
what Selma thinks of happiness
october 10.... 2010
awake
alone at eight fifty-four pm, a copy
of 'Columbine' in hand,
so shake
your head out poots; shake it dry;
it's
time to go and give thanks for your new mattress
october 8.... 2010
bursting
with juxtaposition - it's a beautifully photogenic day as poots
makes her way
and
driving about ndg in the rain in october it's
only uniquely mine maybe too intense, for most of you what do
the new faces
in those pictures think of me;
it's an
odd place to find yourself but i need to discover it
there
are luxuries in life; many are mine;
and that
really is something i can't explain.
2:51PM
october 8 2010
october 7.... 2010
plastic
glasses, warming up, but very well rested, two days in a week. planning.
maybe
scheming.
tantric
yoga
and
places
i've
never
been
before
i can't say for sure. i know i would bring jillian with me
poots,
relax your shoulders; it's the best part, remember. remember
all the advice they all gave you
shoulders
square;
as
they
seem
to
be
all
of
a
sudden, voice sharp; head
held high, at least for this day.
because i think themEp is back
and
widely, deeply, a smile crosses my face and slighlty flabby body
too.....
september 26.... 2010 it was about how you can tell them things that only they would understand: that no
one else interprets in the same way:
september 19.... 2010 but it's
nice to be alone here in my quiet corner.
an
entire assortment of interesting things are transpiring washing
her hands
and so
vast expanses of mind are in front of me
-jann arden
so i
think life is coming back, that is the bottom line.
i can no
longer keep all my wild thoughts in my head,
maybe
no
one's watching (except you, simon) picked
apart;
everyone's
watching....
is it
like the old days;
and
james
now;
for
once; back where you were; and
mostly
but.
it's
still the same peace.
I had
a
dream
things like
singing and buying stocks have something in common; it’s the things
that connect all start-ups; do you
have to really want it or can you convince yourself that you really
want it in order to get what you think you want. I
want
to hit that note, but does my life depend on it? I still derive a lot
of pleasure out of my own singing, imperfect as it may be. And,
as
for the 200,000 dollars, I guess I really don’t want it badly enough.
jan 05 2010
the mEp |
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