I'm on the internet

making use of the internet

help friends

I've said yes to everything. Three chapbook-sized projects of my own. I herewith announce the printing of at least four of the TAXT upcoming chapbooks (so if you're writing one, FINISH UP). I am going to send work to every magazine and journal and blog who ever asked (thank you). I am going to finish the book THAT PARTICULARLY GREAT and infinitely patient PRESS is still waiting for. I am going to drag my weary ass to New York and give "a reading". All by the end of the year. Finally. I say this on the internet so you can shame me if I fuck up and spend the next four months cleaning my apartment or forget to get a plane ticket or plug in the printer or whatever.

Words of support, words of kindness, words of money, ass-kicking, cheerleading, massage, likker, lakewalks, did I say massage? all welcome/required. Honey you know I give it all back to you in spades.

Also I am going to do all this while tending the giant man-eating drooling motherfucking cute ass baby-monster my job is.

I love you, I love poetry, puppy pile it on me.

SS

Sunday

I'm in bed with books and movies of a hot August sunday. The Lake today abundantly Oakland/Lake Merritt-like. I woke up thinking, what's the opposite of absence makes the heart grow fonder? Familiarity breeds Contempt. I felt some of that in a sequence of recent hours.

The books I'm in bed with: The Golden Bowl, Alcools, Donald Judd's Complete Writings, Marxism & Poetry, The Voice Impersonator. The movies are The Pianist, Andrei Rublev, The Bitter Tears of Petra Von Kant. I'd rather have the first few episodes of Weeds, but this is what Netflix has deemed for my hot August-in-Sunday. The windows are open. Once I was diagnosed with an 18th c. malaise, Exhaustion, and sentenced to my bed for five days no leaving. Elise Ficarra brought me fruit. This afternoon I am self-sentencing: of the bed, and no leaving.

I read about the 700 pound man who was once the 1200 pound man; he has recently taken a vacation.

Someday a church more massive than the Vatican. I've been to the top of St. Peter's, friends.

From: apps+mww4ngga@facebookmail.com
Subject: Suzanne, your strengths and weaknesses, as voted by your friends
Date: May 29, 2008 12:46:54 AM PDT
-------------------------------------------------------

This email was sent by Compare People. You can disable emails here.
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Your friends have voted on your strengths and weaknesses:

STRENGTHS:

sexiest
most dateable
best shopping companion

WEAKNESSES:

most tech-savvy
craziest

In Memoriam Bruce Conner 1933 2008 : Breakaway (1966)

Two (unrelated) observations

California has always been burning.

In other news: a reminder to blog readers everywhere: you are not anonymous on the Internet. For those of you who haven't learned it yet, you are identifiable by your IP address. Well, you aren't, necessarily, but your computer is. However: Let's say your computer is used to leave comments on blogs, some of which you sign your name to, and some of which you don't. Let's say also that your computer travels the same paths over and over again, from blog X to blog Y, say, every single day, several times a day even, and at some point you left comments on blog X and now you are leaving comments on blog Y. Let's say that these are multiple blogs operated by the same person, and that same person has site-metering devices installed on all her blogs, because this person is interested, for various reasons, like most people, in watching the traffic on blogs she operates. Let's just say that, after several years of watching her sitemeters and watching her traffic and reading her comments in her comment boxes, and noting a particular single IP address traveling the same paths over and over, and leaving comments on blog X and then later on blog Y, and some of those comments you've signed your name to, and some of those comments you think you are leaving anonymously? THINK AGAIN. You've left a bread-crumb trail that's like the Great Fucking Wall of China.

On the other hand, people with normal internet habits (what the hell are those anyway and does craigslist have anything to do with it?) are in the clear. I have no idea who you are. I fantasize day AND night about who might be reading my blogs, and only wish to god I knew who you were. And if you're browsing by cell phone? Hoo-yah. Sitemeter don't track that. That I can tell, anyway.

This has been a public service announcement.

advice for the 'lorn.2

The Q:

I find it hard to distinguish if a person is jogging or running away from something.
How can you tell?

The A:

Dear,
It is not the speed but the direction that should concern you.

Love,
S

advice for the 'lorn

Someone suggested LWC/LWK should undertake the writing of an advice column. I said I would be glad to take questions, and that possibly I've missed my calling, and that this is it. Here is the first question:

1) I read this in Wittgenstein yesterday: "I am not interested in constructing a building so much as having a perspicuous view of the foundation of possible buildings." What about you, do you want a real building? and 2) If you are going to, you know, construct a building, is it better to build in some fluttering and give (e.g., retrofitting) or build as solid and secure as a fucking rock? I don't mean to speak in binaries.

Dear,
Having a lucid view of the foundation of possible buildings' pretty much the same thing as having built one, or rather, having simultaneously built them all. Real Life, and Reality, sadly, is more complicated. Even the structures built with give and sway with enough Shock and Awe themselves give way. Sadly, we know this to be true. Solid and secure? Show me the one and I'll cleave to it myself.

I hope that answers the question.

The Dr. is In.

in the day & night job

my body IS the collision course

you wouldn't believe the streams of misfit language pouring in and out of there.

I find it necessary to make brief interruptive gesture in the course of the on-going non-narrative narrative exposition of the LWC blog:

Like most of us, my text and my personal life do not exactly coincide. Resolutely you can always not quite find me here.