I AM SO HUNGRY.

we have spiced cider, lemon-lime beverage, and hot cocoa in our mre stash, but no evaporated fucking milk? what ever did I do to you, kitchen, to deserve this? I just wanted some macaroni.

and what marvelous facts they are.

"I got my facts from Sean Hannity."

july first

that hurts, jaw. stop that shit.

june sixteenth

why.

oh your god.

sit down and dream of who you'll be

staying in picayune feels like house arrest. I'm miles away from the city anyway, and when I arrive, there is nothing to do. at least in brookhaven, msa is located in the middle of it, and I can walk places.

I want to go to another coast that is not completely filthy like ours is, even before the spill.

subject colon

your biographies are boring, you literature people. I want to know more about you than I want to know that you've been published in every magazine/journal/review/good homes and gardens since merlin's time. CAN'T YOU PUT THAT SOMEWHERE ELSE. ):

tea tea tea tea saturday school cry cry MUSIC science articles are blocked acquiring more water this poem sucks.

on the ninety-seventh floor overlooking tokyo.

if a high school diploma wasn't more valuable than a GED, I would have gotten the latter a long, long time ago and gone to college. my quintessential recurring line from fifth grade until now, varying in degrees of articulation depending on the year: fuck this shit.

about a month to go before I can pretend formal school does not exist for a while.

april fifth

tapes should still be a popular medium so I can make mix tapes instead of mix cds. mix tapes = romantic, mix cds = how nice. it would be a tale if you could set someone on a course through a series of rooms: every room would have a different song, and the person would have to stay in the room until the song was finished, even if it had ten seconds of unnecessary silence at the end.

related music: "the mixed tape" by jack's mannequin, "mix tape" from the avenue q musical, charlie's playlist in the perks of being a wallflower.

napowrimo is going to be a series of mediocre, hasty poems. I feel it.

white oleander = done reading.

collateral murder. incidents like this have probably happened before, but that doesn't make the isolated incidents any less disturbing. they were laughing about it, these men that represent my country.

I was reading poetry's april 2010 issue, and though I do not like the poem, Outage by rae armantrout, the poet's response to "how far does Like go?", referring to a line from the poem, "Like only goes so far.," was interesting--

"Poetry is full of comparisons and parallels. It seems to trust in resemblance. But the value of rsesemblance--and the empathy it provokes--is rather starkly limited. Even twins or clones don't literally share the same sensations. That makes me wonder what makes a self a self..."

oh, and janie's got a dissolvo ray.

:|

a senior Vatican priest (and one of his Jewish friends, supposedly) juxtaposed the Jews' persecution and the controversy over sexual abuse linked to the Catholic church. there are far, far too many words for this, and none of them positive.