COMPLICATED LIFE

Google image search is the new tea leaves. I say “tea leaves” instead of “crystal ball” or whatever because it doesn’t present you with literal answers, just a relevant image to contemplate, and, by contemplating, realize what was on your mind anyway. Which is why I think the tarot is like fifty percent hustle and fifty percent legit. 

Let’s say that I ask google image search, “How do I get hustle in the summertime?”. In turn, google image search gives me this:

You know.

And also this:

Some ox.

And then this:

Ray Davies is going to be SO MAD.

I guess that means that if you want to get hustle in the summer time, you’re going to have to suck it up and get some work done (like an ox, right) but you shouldn’t forget to have some fun, shave your stage name initials into the side of your head, and fucking chill it out by rolling up those shirt sleeves at the end of a long hot day. And don’t forget that you’re just a playboy. No matter what she said.

CONTINUED EFFORTS TO WREST “QUEEN OF ALL MEDIA” TITLE FROM OPRAH/PEREZ HILTON CONTINUE APACE

I know the Daily Texan only covered my poetry reading because summer is slow news times for the campus paper. That’s fine. I don’t care. Check it out: http://media.www.dailytexanonline.com/media/storage/paper410/news/2008/07/11/University/Featured.Photo.between.The.Lines-3390141.shtml

Also, unrelated to me (somewhat), they’re having a big old state senate scandal back home, which, in its most lurid iteration, involves a girl I interned with at Rep. DeWeese’s office accepting a ghost job in exchange for sex. This is the Philadelphia Enquirer story–I’d post the local paper’s version, except the Philly reporter obviously had a lot more fun trotting out the seamy details (disgraced former beauty queen, dingy office above a cigar shop in Pittsburgh). This girl and I interned together the summer after my freshman year at CMU, when saying that you were interning for a Democrat still got you some “have some more lipgloss, Monica” giggles, and she didn’t do any work then, either. I remember one day working on some big mailing for a deadline, and pretty much spending all day on it while Angie dicked around on the internet, occasionally asking me how, for example, to spell karaoke. And I would go, K-A-R-A-O-K-E and she would go, “No, I don’t think that’s right.” I guess I should keep stories like this on hand for anybody who thinks my stories about southwestern Pennsylvania are too surreal or ironic.

COHORTS

 

 

OH HI.

No chat? CONFUSE!

I AM A HAMMER

True. I will be reading some poems at the newly established Riot Ink reading series. If you go to their blog you can read up on the recent featured writers and also find a picture and bio of yours truly. What will you learn from doing so? Well, you’ll learn that the reading is on Thursday, July 10th at Austin Java (1206 Parkway), that it begins at 7:00 PM, and also that I have one of those crooked Katie Holmes smiles, the smirky kind where it looks like half of your face is paralyzed. Well, my face. It makes me feel kind of bad for poking fun at poor Katie’s smile in “Batman Begins.” Pot, meet kettle, etc.

In addition, the official Keene Prize press release hits the internets today. If you must know, the committee says some pretty nice things about how I’m a quirky, sharp observer. Not like you didn’t know. But it’s good to have it in writing.

So my point is, be a pal and come to the reading. There’s always the possibility that I’ll dedicate a poem to you. There’s always the possibility I have written a poem about some funny shit you said one night at the bar. Do you remember that night? You were on fire. 

LEAST LIKELY TO BE ON A DESERT ISLAND IN THE FIRST PLACE

I don’t know when Facebook got all aggro. It kind of happened behind my back. One day it was all, “Oh, you go to my school? Nice, I go to that same school. Oh, you like Herzog? Nice, me too, but only the stuff he did with that crazy actor who brained extras with pewter shields.” You know, the basics. Pretty much the most hilarious thing you could do with facebook was to make a group with a funny name or premise. Like “Biggest Group EVAR” or something. Then one day I stated getting e-mail notices about how my “friends” were inviting me to join their “entourage” or their Steelers fan group or to take their movie quiz or to give pictures of cupcakes to all of my other friends or to play Oregon Trail online. WHAT? I’ve heard that Scrabulous is actually pretty good, but at what price, friends? Now everybody’s facebook page looks like the circa 98 xenga of a homely girl who’s really into handicrafts and superfun ’80s music. Jesus.

But the reason I bring it up is that sometimes, when I’m not at my sharpest, I get a little curious about one of these bazillion applications, and before I know it I’ve somehow gotten myself tangled up in its net. Example: Compare People, which is a facebook application that lets you compare your friends against each other, hot-or-not style, in many different capacities. I’ve never done that part of the whole thing, but somehow I’m in the comparison pool, so I get frequent e-mail updates about how my stats have changed, or how my friends perceive my strengths and weaknesses. By frequent, I mean every other day, seriously. And I kind of can’t bring myself to un-subscribe because it’s pretty awesome to know that people think I’m one of the top five best dancers they know, as well as talented and friendly. But it’s kind of sucky to find out that I’m at the bottom of the barrel for “niceness,” “most likely to succeed,” “best travel companion,” and “most like to be stuck with on a desert island with.” Seriously, fuck you guys. Have you ever traveled with me? NO. And on a desert island, I might be cranky for the first few weeks of cigarette withdrawal, but after that I’ll be good to go, dancing my ass off, entertaining the shit out of you with my friendly talents. And as far as most likely to succeed goes, what, are you all scientists now? Are you all working at Cape Canaveral and forgot to update your location or something? Pshaw. Y’all don’t know shit about it.

 

Unrelatedly: did anybody else play Truckin’ USA in grade school instead of Oregon Trail? That’s what we had at my elementary school in West Virginia instead of Oregon Trail. It was exactly the same, except you were a trucker who had to get a load of refrigerators to Yuma by 5PM Wednesday, selecting good routes and budgeting money and choosing, every night, whether to sleep in the cab or rent a motel. It was awesome, and nobody else has heard of it.