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Portrait of a Young Man as The Artist
Chain of thought-Chicago.
I'm home. Again.

I can't decide if being bored in Chicago or in beloit is better.

One thing I liked about being in Beloit: easier to remain faithful to my diet. First thing my Dad does for dinner, pizza. Not just any pizza, but infamous Chica...

Bloody hell. I"m not going to sit here and fucking whine about my lack of fucking willpower. You don't want to hear it, and I don't fucking want to hear about it.

I have found a fountain pen store. They sell quills, ink, seals and sealing wax. I nearly knelt down and thanked God for the availability of these items in my home town.

As I was knelling, knowing I was so far from adept at kneeling as I'm neither a Catholic or good a sucking cock (two things you get excellent practice at in the church) I noticed the price tag. Satan of course was truly at fault for my intended genuflection. Vile beast or no, I will not besmirch the sanctity of my bank account for a fountain pen. To be as Faust... selling soul for the pen with with which I sign my soul away. Not when calligraphy quills are only 14 bucks.

I went to Borders today to console myself from a detestable and languished attempt to shop for close. Not only did I venture into and Abercrombie and Fitch, but two, within about a 20 minute time frame. The put that damn moose on everything. Needless to say, I found nothing for which I was looking. I got no love from the up-scale mall.

I hate the word glisten. I was thinking today as I came to my room that I had not written much recently and that I should try my hand at it. First damn thing that popped into my head was "glistening snowlight." The fuck is that crap. What dimension does my cock-and-bull mind run off to and come back with that shit as a good line. The only damn person that can get away with that line is Shakespeare and that's only because his and every other person in 16th century had their cod pieces on too tight.

"We write as we read," I have read, heard, or come across at some point. I'm so sick of Shakespeare. Give me O'hara, Murakami, Buckowski. Some fucking hardcore writers right there. I should be gruffer. Drink more. Womanize. Uh.. in Murakami's case, be Japanese. I read fantasy. I write like I read fantasy. So much is this vitrified fluff (wrap your head around that) is messing with what I want to be as a writer.

I write in a trance. I disappear. My emotion, just a structure evolving in my mind with out my involvement. I have no emotion. I don't put me into what I write. I do not live my writing.

I wonder what Berkeley will be like Thursday.

Current Mood: moody moody
Current Music: Three damn ticking clocks

8 comments or Leave a comment
lerite From: lerite Date: January 11th, 2004 11:07 pm (UTC) (Link)
You should come be bored at Sam's house at some point. Like, email him or Nathan or me with a phone number so we can all play a board game or something.
moocowrich From: moocowrich Date: January 12th, 2004 12:18 am (UTC) (Link)
I'm not sure what I'm going to write, which is unusual. Generally I have comments fairly well planned out, or at least some sort of idea what I should blather on about. In this case, I feel like I should respond, but I'm not sure what I want to say.

Which leads directly to the first point that I just made up: we should battle rap more. Battle rap is one of the most amazing things ever, especially if you like poetry.

Willpower sucks. It stops you from doing the things that you want to do. Like the police. Fuck the police.

Hey now, people don't suck cock at church. Only altar boys, and since they're not 18, they're not people.

When you wrote, "They put that damn moose on everything", I was reminded of one of my all-time favorite pornos, Stardust #3. It features a talking moose head on the wall, which says such spectacular lines as "Now there's two bitches!" Abercrombie should put that moose head on everything, along with the accompanying quote.

While we're destroying the word "glisten", I'd like you to come up with an alternative word for "glistening" in the following:
Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?
In the lane, snow is ______________.

That's all I've got. Midgets. Goat sex.

I think I'm becoming a one-man Man Show.
abmann From: abmann Date: January 12th, 2004 12:23 am (UTC) (Link)
That was the best comment I've ever received. Thanks Rich.
moocowrich From: moocowrich Date: January 12th, 2004 02:43 am (UTC) (Link)
Aww, you're making me blush. I wrote you a poem to commemorate this moment. I call it...

"A Tribute To Porn"

Boobies, boobies, boobies
Many boobies to be seen
Boobies, boobies, boobies
On my TV screen
fynixsoul From: fynixsoul Date: January 12th, 2004 01:31 am (UTC) (Link)
Dude, fountian pens are seriously worth it. You don't have to spend all that much on them. You can get a really quality Waterman or Schaefer (sp?) for $35. and if that's too much, most pen stores have nice fountian pens for around $5 or $10. And a bottle of ink (get waterman, they're the best) is usually less then $5. Don't get the capsuls that go inside the pen. Get the inkwell. And don't fill the pen. Dip it. Then you'll have the full sensual experience. if you're planning on writing or revising poetry, you want to make this investment. For serious.
abmann From: abmann Date: January 12th, 2004 01:23 pm (UTC) (Link)
I do believe you mean "fo' shizzle."

I ordered a waterman pen starter set last night.
fynixsoul From: fynixsoul Date: January 12th, 2004 09:34 pm (UTC) (Link)
Awesome :) You are now a cooler person.
abmann From: abmann Date: January 12th, 2004 11:59 pm (UTC) (Link)
Fo' shizzle
8 comments or Leave a comment