again

Movin' on

I dont know if I am switching over altogether or will run them both, but I have begun a livejournal account which I think I am going to get to like a lot better due to way more sophisticated customizing options and the fact that lots of my friends hang out there. I am hoping it will inspire me to blog more. Come check me out here .

dead man rocking

Ladies and gentlemen, I am a lousy blogger.
It has been an entire WEEK since dead man's wheelchair and have I told my adoring public anything about it? No. Bad bad lazy me. I cant bring myself to write much at all these days it seems, but today I am unemployed and supposed to be looking for work, and since I would rather do almost anything else, I thought this would be a good time to write my report.
Can I get a hell yeah? Fucking wow did it ever go well.
Besides the amazing fact that nearly all my artists showed up, (and only one deserted before their performance, and did so only after saving my band's part of the show by going to pick up all the gear on a snowy, awful night) they each did an amazing job. They didnt all do what they were expected to, but I am the last person who is going to get on people for being unexpected. It was great.
There was burlesque and bellydance and the awesomest dj, the incomparable Jynx .

I crumpled each of my poems into a ball and threw them at the audience (which was a very nice size) when I was done reading them. Only one other poet read but he was amazing, this old irish guy with a beautiful voice, named Ed.

I got all painted up
and sang some songs with winston. Video of one song is available, though you cant see much. People let me know if you want to arrange to see it.

That and Rhean's delightful ongoing performance art piece

look close

yes those are red sequins


yes they are being sewn to her skin

TADA!

were the highlights. After the show I was approached by a band manager who has already booked us for another show. Details to come.

It was SO awesome you guys!

i live on idiot street

Holy fuck somebody PLEASE get me an editor to follow me around and make sure I dont embarrass myself further. I was alarmed to be told, though of course no one noticed till after, that my posters said the soda was on 12 STREET, instead of 12 ave, where it actually is.
I could just scream, and scream, and scream.

Tonight I lose my rock'n'roll virginity

Thats right, for the first time ever, my band live on stage. We are winston.
I'm scared.

"i" is for idiot

I went through a 2 month period of unemployment this winter during which I was bewildered and unnerved by the total lack of response to the resumes i sent via internet. I finally got the really sedentary position I have right now in my neighborhood.
While extremely gratified to be again earning a paycheque, I have been looking at moving on from this place. I was reviewing my online resume yesterday when I was, and here I use a rare word, thunderstruck to realize that, thanks to a minor typo, my email address was wrong, iidnami when it should have been idnamii.
I made this resume in november and only noticed yesterday.
I already have an interview.
The moral of this story is: a third i is only useful if it is facing the right direction.
Damn I feel stupid.

VERY SOON

Happy V-day everyone

This is a mutation of the first pic ever taken of my beloved priest and I, at the reception of the wedding where we met. It was cosmic.
It is titled "spark".
Isnt that icky-sick grody sweet? Eeeeeew love.

This goes out to all you lovers out there, especially mine.

I'm not explaining this one

The news broke over the heads of the unsuspecting town like a thunderclap from a clear blue sky
it flooded every house and spilled out of every mouth
and the story got bigger each time it was told
but nobody believed it
the alignment of the bodies made a gruesome geometric pattern
a glistening arcane glyph that tickled
the backs of the minds of the men who found them
like a secret hidden away in deep memory
a secret they wish had been kept
bound up in the tattered strips of their own torn clothing
a warning
or an invitation
a decorative feast for birds and worms
unappreciated centerpiece on a rough stone table
set for 12 unlucky mortals
still almost fresh
in the boiling sun
stiff limbs carefully arranged to spell a word
I couldnt read it
when we came back with help they were all gone
we searched the rocks for any trace, bone, scrap or stain
but there was nothing
and I couldnt explain it
to my wife
I tried she
turns her face away
and has long teary conversations in whispers
on the phone with her sister
living over in the next town
after the bottle is 2 thirds empty
and she thinks im as deaf as she tries to be
she looks hard at the door
when she thinks Im not looking
I keep the damn thing locked for a reason
just like a woman
she'd run for her life
but the dead hold her right where she is