| So it's Official |
[31 Oct 2006|04:18am] |
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mood |
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 nostalgic |
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Happy Halloween!
I spent the first 2 and a half hours or so of Halloween seeing The Rocky Horror Purchase Show after celebrating Skalloween with The Toasters, the Pieaters and Big D and the Kids Table. For some reason Skalloween made me miss the days when many years ago we'd sit on Frankie's stoop with an acoustic guitar and a 40 in the sun playing old punk and ska songs. Those were the days...
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| The exlax lines the dogbowl |
[02 Oct 2006|07:17am] |
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mood |
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 contemplative |
] |
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music |
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Tom Waits - Anywhere I Lay My Head |
] |
Chief runs-no-more is full of ash and broken dreams again. The dawn is baring down hard like a nun in a blender full of piss and whiskey. crack open a warm budweiser and rehearse the escape plan. But why all the toilet paper? Flee you bastard, they called last night and want your head flee god damn it! Persona non grata. Weird memories and assuredly stranger forgotten ones surfacing like a stranger in a bar somewhere where smoke rings form a noose around the stool pigeon with bad credit and bum rap. And there they go again, those bastards with the hats. People sleeping on the floor and i can't explain why the sun always seems to melt in my hand. Maybe just one more beer after i roll up this smoke.
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| Not to be a dick but... |
[02 Aug 2006|12:50pm] |
It's August 2nd and i'm leaving on the 26th, i guess consider this somewhat of a last-minute warning to people who have had my book(s) for months that i'm going to need them back by the end of the month, so read up.
And: If you're already done with whatever book(s) you may have borrowed from me, i work 6 days a week from 5pm to anytime between 10:30 and 2, so it would probably be best to get it to me before i go to work, on my day off or just to drop it at my house.
Thanks, and i hope i didn't sound like too much of a dick.
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| Ignore this |
[21 Jul 2006|02:43am] |
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Ah and there they are
those ladylike swarms of microbes swimming
to my belly
Like all the eons of neon encrusted
signposts
for Pottersfield workers
consuming beer and peanuts
and pretending it’s real.
(Garlic burp wipe beer from mouth
blow smoke in air and stare
into candle
now
the idea)
The smoke dances in the air like a lady evaporating in goodness
under the constant hum of stars too crippled to stand.
“Chocolate beer!” she exclaimed
ah, them Germans.
…
(she called)
…
So i was romanticizing my lungcancerjoyhood
and i remembered rolling cigarettes
for a Vietnam vet
who visits me at work maintaining my sanity
like a guardian angel with a rap sheet
apparently he’s killed a few people and studied psychology
I don’t always agree with him but i rarely tell him so
Because he’s got a face like if Hunter Thompson met my Uncle Tito
Wife died during childbirth
Indian blood brother died building white man’s bridge
but the lines on his face are from smiling.
Somehow I love him as he loves me and Christina and says we’ll get married
A great talker
A great rememberer
At age 60 in Coney Island with so many kids
A nameless father
Anyway, cigarette’s done, beer gone
Candle fell and i
need
the bathroom so
poem
done.
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[13 Jul 2006|02:57pm] |
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People are always leaving their stuff here; a four dollar thermos and two 100-page writing tablets was today’s unintentional loot. An oversized poorly stuffed rendition of a trademarked superhero was yesterday’s and it’s only Tuesday at the noxious yodeling shooting gallery. I feel like a crook or a rapist with my pen on this paper but worse things will happen at Astroland tonight. The sun just finished going down on Coney Island’s west, lights are blinking on in the low-rent housing projects over the D,N,F&Q lines and the smiles are getting drearier.
“Well sir you put yr fifty cents in the coin slot marked “50 cents” situated next to the rifle of your choice and as both emboldened posted signs will verify, this investment will earn you 25 shots.”
“What I shooting?”
“Any of the glowing red bulls-eye targets of your choice…No sir, you don’t win anything it’s all for the fun of the immobile mechanized hunt… Yes that is real water.”
“Is that water clean?”
“Why, you thirsty?”
“Yes.”
“Well ma’am in spite of its being subject to the ravages of July sun and cyclically flowing into a rancid plastic bucket all day I have yet to feel the urge or temptation to consume this water, if you are interested however I could pour you some, though it would come without my endorsement and only after you’ve signed the proper papers.”
(Repeat every thirty seconds for eight hours while reading Darwin and see how long you can last on $6.75 an hour before drowning yourself in the aforementioned bucket sounds like a viable option.)
The park carries a different aesthetic at night… beggars and drunks… toothless whores and baby carriages… lights fantastically flashing in all directions baring new and twisted white knuckled universes of ways never before imagined to weasel a hard earned dollar.
They come in all colors and sizes from various backgrounds and neighborhoods but all look the same; the human sucker, a unique sub-genus of homosapien wandering where ever he so chooses to wander with arms outstretched, passive fistfuls of dollars and eyes akimbo in the foggy monocle of Americana. Sent drunk in search of some big win on cheap trinket prizes, some used car lot in Denver, some postcarded horizon to ride off into carrying cameras, waving ticket stubs and wearing novelty hats crowned and bejeweled in benightable ineptitude, heinous products of over-comfort in a seminary TV Dinner fantasy land gone wry; the fundamental flaw Darwin never predicted, super-mechanized over-comfortable twits surviving only by sheer mercy or pity, but ever bending to the twisted whim of some sociopathic philanthropist of a higher power. And right now that’s me. Step right up.
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[27 Jun 2006|02:14am] |
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mood |
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 Bemonked |
] |
Thelonious Monk –
has entire lost cosmos
dancing in the hallowed valleys of his fingertips
as his keys hammer and enlighten strings
and enliven a turbulent void
filling the smoky roomed emptiness
with the laughter of stray cats
and his fingertips they flick into the dark
where flicked the cigarette butt’s bare backed borne down Broadways of American Subconsciousness
Thelonious Monk I hear the Ghost of America rattling awake
grogging for coffee in some AM/PM/FM wonderment; wheeling down
weird freeways in what pockmarked Universe bares to smile
and be naked.
-6/27/06
Joe Izzo
Anyhoo, i just got a call saying i have a summer job, i just don't know where it is yet, but oh well... go me!
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| If You're My Math Teacher |
[20 Jun 2006|01:14pm] |
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mood |
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 FROTHING AND THE MOUTH |
] |
Then fuck you in the ear with a sodering iron, you are a vile festering vindictive dingleberry on the ass of an otherwise reasonable person... you are cancer personified.
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| Good Morning, Good Morning! |
[17 Jun 2006|05:35am] |
Christina's in my basement, (possibly sleeping) coffee is brewing, it's 5:36 and dawn is well underway and we just finished drinking from the night before. We screamed proclemations of inanity from a fenced-off dirt pile on 82nd and shore (baseball fields) wrote haikus, drank more, talked about Kerouac and America and eternity and even though i'm completely over-run with work i have to make up i don't care.
Mom and Dad are sleeping
Freeway
sounds like waves.
anyway, the coffee's brewed now and i'm rejuvinated. Life is great.
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| Yea... So |
[03 May 2006|10:56pm] |
If i took you off my friends list, nothing personal, i just don't know how to make entries private to one (or more) person(s) so i took everyone sans that person off my enemies-i mean "friends" list. (i actually did type enemies first, out of force of habit with lists and all...)
Anyway about life, i got the official letter of acceptance from the admittance office at Purchase, i've been sick on so many levels lately and i'm having more trouble with getting a decent night's sleep than i have in a long time...
what else...
i know i'm forgetting something...
CHILI'S BEEN MISSING SINCE SUNDAY!
Yesterday, i was looking for him on 78th between third and fourth because apparently someone called my house saying there are a lot of strays around there, so i went and checked. It was dark out, probably around 10:00 pm, and out of the shadows comes this sickly looking (but still slightly heavy set) tabby of the Chilian persuasion; grey, black, brown, white on the face and trotting up to me with a sense of eagerness, happy yet not completely convinced he should be; much in the manner a used car salesman would approach prospective clientele. So this little grey bastard comes trotting and meowing concealed in darkness all the way up to my feet and i bend down to pick him up, as i do so the little fucker turns around and runs back several feet-frightened. I wonder what the hell is wrong and i realize it's an imposter! Not only an imposter, but an imposter who half leads/half follows me to another god damned imposter. Two fucking tabbies on the same block... if there is a God i seriously would not doubt him actually being on Pat Robertson's side... maybe even backing him for president in 2008-Whenever i die. Bastard.
Although on the plus side, i did find evidence that Chili is okay. Both of the tabbies i met last night were in a pitiful physical state, some cuts, scrapes bruises, small chips taken out of the ears; this can only mean Chili is still out there prowling the streets somewhere showing all the assholes, phonies, imposters, english"men" and surly bastards who's boss; getting drunk with Topcat and giving this life a run for it's money.
And now it's raining... yay...
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| ,<' |
[28 Mar 2006|10:57pm] |
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mood |
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 stressed |
] |
So... i just got a letter in the mail saying i passed my audition for the consevatory of music at Purchase. Now i just have to send them some letters of recomendation for the general school dealy and i'll probably be gone in August(?) I don't know, point is - you know i rock.
Oi... now this is going to be my last spring/summer here, i'm going to spend it in a mad rush to graduate - i know i can, i just kinda let a few extra credits pile up not really planning on anything important happening, it's just basically going to mean being entrenched in school work and maybe even summer school. Yea, my last real summer vacation and i get summer school, wheeee.
New point; i'm (probably) going to miss at least one out of every third person who reads this a little, so keep tabs and be flattered.
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