some other things

this sort of looks neat and i think i want to see it


it almost feels like if peter greenaway was not very much a dude. in that peter greenaway's movies, while real real pretty and also pretty fucking weird, feel very much like the product of a dude. which is whatever. i honestly have no idea what i am talking about here.

anyway so i've been re-reading josh bell's NO PLANETS STRIKE and it's still awesome. josh bell you should read this post and then finish and publish yr second book already please and thanks not to pressure you or anything.

also if you don't know this poem this poem by mark leidner has saved my life a lot of times.

Charismatic Ambulance Driver

It’s WWII.

I’m a charismatic ambulance driver.

You make me French toast

and when you set the plate down

you kiss my neck

and I just stare and stare at you.

We’re tilling a field in Poland

when the clouds break open

and we throw down the reins of our plows

and make love in the wind and the mud

while the mules, mute, look on.

You are about to take a spacewalk

and I stop you in the airlock

by shouting your name

and as you spin around to face me

your hair splays out in the absence of gravity.

Not without this, I say

handing you your helmet.

It’s Texas and you’ve tricked me

into attending a bake sale.

We’re out in the desert, resting

in the shade a small cliff is creating

and you gently pat my stomach

and ask me if I am gay.

We’re driving through Atlanta

and it is the end of the world

and you point out the window

and I follow the pale curl of your arm

and the line extending from your finger to the moon

and the moon is full

and on fire.

You’re panicking

because you can’t remember the meaning

of nonchalant, but I’m massaging

your neck, whispering,

It’s what you are.

You catch the flu but you refuse

to blow your nose because you’re scared

of looking sick. I finally get you to blow it

by offering you $5, and when you do

the most beautiful music comes out.

I call you sport

and you get a funny look in your eye

and say, Don’t call me that.

You split our bread into two parts,

the crust and the center,

and you give me the crust.

I finally say, I’m leaving you!

All you ever gave me were the wretched crusts!

and you look up at me,

tears brimming in your eyes, and say,

But the crust was always my favorite part.

We are trying to purchase a car

and you are heavy with child

and we are test-driving a small coupe

and I take a corner too fast, and your water breaks

and you tap me on the shoulder and say,

My water just broke. And I say, Is it okay

to drive this car to the hospital?

It’s not ours yet, you know.

We end up getting a different coupe.

You ruined that one.

i am going to go eat ice cream. i hear ryan madson has a beard. apparently roy oswalt's back was made out of jose contreras's elbow. and polanco's bat was made out of oswalt's back. oh well. it's weird how i keep complaining about shit when the phillies still have the best record in baseball. it seems real similar to that whole first world problems hashtag thing. in that like i should shut the fuck up because they are obviously doing really well, but i cannot seem to accept that. whatever. still have the overall losingest franchise in baseball. we win at winning AND losing. hooray! that should have said the phillies win at but i can't fix it because, again, keyboard's busted.