Elements

there are elements
that are not on
the periodic table

I built a world from these
but their properties
were impossible
to reconcile

the atoms loosened
and my world fell apart
beneath my feet

I was the wrong scientist
for the job
I was as foolish
as an alchemist who doesn’t know
that there’s no gold to be had
that doesn’t start with gold

and now I’ve become unstable
what spins off of me
leaves me charged
I am glowing in the dark
a poison candle

decay
half-life
every term of this art
tells my story

if I had been more careful
I would have started with carbon
and tin

but the elements I chose to use
were so
impossible
they were crying out
to be treated as real

so I did
and I did not succeed
but what came after

was a kind of success
as a scientist can always claim
that every failure teaches
something


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New Music

I went out shopping this afternoon and purchased, among other things:

— the new Ani
— the new Sleater Kinney
— the most recent Mountain Goats

I also bought jeans that fit in what I think is my new size — two sizes down from the old one. Gulp.

I shall be well dressed, happily listening and school working later tonight.


Huh???

Just got the mail.

There is an ad in Utne Reader this month for a school that is offering an online course in animal massage.

My friends, the floor is yours. You may begin at any time.


surgery update

— all systems go. surgery next Friday, time TBD.

— i’ll be under for around 4 hours.

— i’ll be pretty much incapacitated for a few days after.

— i’ll be unable to climb stairs for a couple of days, so i’ll likely be out of contact here.

— i’ll be out of work for most likely three weeks.

— i’ll be FINE. no need for cookies, flowers, letters, cards, etc. REALLY.

— i’m not nervous.

— this surgery is for a number of minor things, none are life threatening.

— the combination of several procedures is what’s making for a little longer than usual recovery.

— no, i don’t want to share what’s going on.

*These responses predicated on the barrage of well-meaning and deeply annoying questions I’m getting at work. I trust all y’all to be more sensitive. 🙂


Rewind

I forget sometimes that this is a public diary, the whole notion of which is silly.

In general, I’m not a person who needs a lot of sympathy from a lot of people.

If I know you and you want to offer it, that’s cool. There are a few of you — a very few — who I want advice and care from, and you know who you are.

But in general, I’m pretty self sufficient — or at least, numb to the human touch of those I have not let in.

I sometimes let those who think they know me down. I’m sorry for that.

As I’ve gotten older, I realize just what a dysfunctional bastard I can be. Perhaps I am letting down the mask a little to let others see it. This is at once honorable and detestable.

But, as the scorpion said to the frog, it’s my nature.


Tomorrow

I go in for my preoperative screening.

I am having surgery next Friday for a variety of things — nothing life-threatening, all minor in and of themselves, but doing them all at once. This will likely impede my mobility for a bit. I’m figuring on three weeks out of work.

I haven’t mentioned this much, I know, mostly because it’s really not that big a deal; all routine stuff. The one thing I do think about is that while these procedures are not major, some of them are related to age and wear and tear.

I know I sometimes seem to be a bit obsessed with my age in comparison to those in the scene around me, but if truth be told, it has more to do with fascination than any real fear or upset. The changes in how I view people, how I view myself, how people view me, etc., are really something to watch.

People say that age is just a number. I don’t feel “old” most of the time, though I do feel “older;” but the body tells you otherwise now and then. Tells you, “not forever, buddy; here’s a twinge to remind you of that…”

At any rate — all this by way of saying I won’t be around much tomorrow.


I am currently obsessed

with the word “crumble.”

I see it everywhere — in my soup, my pants, my Palm Pilot, my love.

I am willing to say it if not entirely willing to witness or endure it.

There are more accurate words to describe this mood, but none sound better.

Still, the crumble that can be told is not the true crumble.

I will use the word, with its hard beginning and swallowed end, until a better one comes along.


fragment

i look at the outlines
of edges and chips
and can roughly discern
how it all used to fit

till i turn from the mirror


Looking for

a beater/low-end laptop for a specific purpose.

Should run a pretty recent version of Windows (except ME), have the cojones for minimal broadband Web work, and a copy of Word would be nice.

CD-ROM a plus; CD-RW pretty snazzy. If not a RW, a basic floppy drive wou;dnt’ be out of line.

Main criteria: the type of unit that wouldn’t kill me if I lost it.

Any one got one? Any price range thoughts? Any thing else I should be thinking of?

[And no — not a Mac, or Linux, or anything else. This needs to be a mass-market, easily interchangeable unit. I’ll likely be getting a Mac (again! yay) for my next heavy duty ‘puter.]

That is all.


begin

begin rejecting

sleep
face time
regular meals
alcohol
real sex
business calls
the scent of the inside of your own nose

study Bartleby the Scrivener obsessively
burn your CDs
play cards with your credit

hump the mattress
while pretending you are a silent film star
hope to God no one catches you
and that you will never have to speak again

plan on a short career as a wolf
(there’s no future in it of course)
strategize about blowing down the walls
of the homes of the local pigs
then do nothing
over and over

cut your hair

stop showing up so much
reject the need to be anything

give it up
there is no it
and if there was
you would not be


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Zero Point Zero

Y’know, I went back and read a bunch of the Zero Point Zero columns tonight.

I did some good work there, now that I’ve got some distance from it. I absolutely hated them at the end, but I’m ok with them now.

Might be time, soon, to consider a compilation. But I dont’ know how or where to begin, and I don’t have a lot of time to do it.

Any ideas?


The Last Good Thing

The last good thing
I will ever do
will be done on a Thursday,
in summer or perhaps
late spring;
it won’t be a weekend gesture,
or one made at the beginning
of a workweek, compelled
by pressure and dread;
it won’t be an autumn deed,
drawn from me by dead drifting leaves,
or a winter’s impulse urged out of me
by too much grey and white.

No, the last good thing I will ever do
will happen when I finally tell myself the truth
in the middle of the week
on a warm green day
and admit I have not done nearly enough
to deserve my
existence.

Once I say it,
I will kick off my sneakers
and walk barefoot on the hot road
from where I am then
to as far away from there as I can go,

but none of these things are the last good thing I’ll do.
No.

The last good thing I do will be when
I look back at all of you, the whole village, and refuse to
wave. Better still: the last good thing I do
will be to not look back at all.
The last good thing I do will be a sin of omission.

A man who never
did a thing
will become an object lesson,
and for years after they’ll say,

the only thing
he ever really did
was fuck up a perfectly great summer Thursday
for the rest of us.

Why
do you suppose he did it? Guess we’ll
never really know.

Something like this, though,
it makes you love
the ones around you even
more. Makes you appreciate things.

I guess
some good came of it,
after all.