Thank you, Ambien and herbal supplements, for giving me a decent night’s sleep within the usually assigned parameters of when said sleep should occur.

With all the extra time this morning, I am finally downloading and printing various financial and legal documents necessary for the divorce.

It says something to me about the rightness of the situation that I am not especially tense, upset, worried, nervous, unhappy, wistful, or otherwise emotionally roiled as I do this.

In fact, my only serious emotional reaction is that the necessary websites are all too complicated to be believed. You’d think the Massachusetts Trial Court Division might take a little better look at making their site user friendly…

then again, if they did we wouldn’t need lawyers, would we?

On another note, Tornadoes’ last home game tonight. Anyone in?

Please go give a warm welcome to frequegrl, who is just joining LJ. She’s near and dear to my heart.

Welcome, Missy!

Sometimes I listen to my poetry and all I can hear is an echo. Someone wrote and spoke the poem before I did. So much for speaking my truth to power…all I do is echo the truth someone else spoke before me. I’m a parrot.

Dumb cluck bird
don’t let him anywhere near
a notebook.

Any word he says is likely stolen.
He saw the shiny and lifted it,
tucked it under his wing.

Watch your poetry —
I’ll take it and pretend
I believe in your truth.

No point in continuing this, i’m just a copyist,
the blanker the page, the better.

that I had never heard the term “fapping” as a euphemism for masturbation?

The new Zero Point Zero column is posted, in which I urge poets to stop writing so much.

 
The Zero Point Zero Regular Column!

Very much more than Nothing!

I walked toward the drugstore door
where a skinny man
in a worn green plaid shirt
and dirty bagged-out jeans was standing
unsteadily near the trash can.

“You don’t know shit,” he said,
after catching my slight recoil at the way
he spit large into his palm
and ran his hand through his hair
to flatten the strays that had come loose
in the wind. “Don’t look at me like that, fucker.

“Nothing works better than spit
on my hair. If I wanna
spit in my hand and wash myself all over with it,
why the fuck should you care? We’re all fucking animals, ain’t we?
How’s it any different than what a cat does,
or a dog? And are you gonna tell me you wouldn’t lick
your balls if you could? Course you would.”

He lurched away from me
into the store on whatever errand
had brought him here. I stayed the hell away from him
once inside, where I picked up my prescriptions,
bread, a lemonade for the ride home.

I almost hit a stray cat
before entering my street. He scooted across the road
and sat down once he’d made it and started in to licking upon
his matted white fur. I watched him for a while
before getting out to go inside.

I have been thinking about them for a long time now,
that drunk and that fleeting cat: their quick wet swipes
over their hair, maybe lingering for a moment or more
on some part that feels good, trying to cover up
how frightened they were by the close approach
of what might have been death, might have been scorn,
might have been an assumption that survival
isn’t enough by itself. We’re all animals,
he said. We just do what we do.

I’ll be in Orlando on a job on the nights of Sept. 19 and 20th (Tuesday and Wednesday). What’s up?

1. Better with a crew.

2. Still pretty motherfuckin’ terrific.

I have decided to go see SoaP a SECOND time in the same weekend.

ocvictor, myainsel and I will be attending the 1:40 show at the Acropolis, AKA the Shoppes at Blackstone Valley.

Please feel free to join ussssssss. (I’ll get tired of the hissing thing eventually, I promise, but bear with me for a bit.)

Oh. My. God.

Is it wrong that I loved it?

For once, I’m getting up at this hour of the morning as opposed to still being up after a night of no sleep. I hit the sack early last night and stayed down for the count.

God, it felt good to be working again! Granted, it’s only one gig, but it’s something. If I can stretch this one out to a couple of more, I might be able to hold off the Return To Full Time Work a bit longer.

Hey, why wasn’t David Huang at Nats this year?

Too much thinking. I’m a go back to bed now for a bit. More later.

PS: No offense to my Floridian readers/friends, but even being in this outrageous place (the Boca Raton Resort and Club) has not made me like this state one bit more. Even when it’s cooler, I don’t like it here, and right now this SOUP they try to pretend is “air” is killing me.

living with closed eyes

scent of other people’s smoke
water on my tongue
background celebrity chatter

stray pill hits the floor

knuckles cracked so often
they revolt even me

tolerance for the bleak
should be the state motto

just up the road there’s an all night regret
i can visit whenever i want
where the hill is alive with the sound
of the same car passing the old apartment
many times over many hours
praying for the light to stay off

i could be one move from success
if i could move at all

One of my favorite character actors. I keep thinking of his being repeatedly bumped from “The Larry Sanders Show.”

http://www.cnn.com/2006/SHOWBIZ/Movies/08/15/kirby.obit.ap/index.html