A Few Thoughts, Resounding

1. Ghost Radio premiers on WALF next Sunday night, 12:30 to 2:30 in the AM. Listen in if you're in the neighborhood, or I'm sure you can stream it somewhere.

2. One of the guys, Ted, from Irene's old apartment gave me a sweet pair of boots and a sick leather jacket today. Ted is the man, the shoes fit me perfectly.

3. Poetry is both incomprehensibility easy and impossibly hard. This week we have to write a poem dealing with food in some way. Last week was place, and the week before was kind of open ended. Here's the second one.

The Room at the Bottom of the Stairs

Cat piss and Vicks VaporRub
silently stew
behind tacked up curtain
and seep ever so slightly
past an unnamed computer, teeming with
noise, sending Danger Mouse beating
up past an ashtray, a mislaid shoe,
to where I lean-

unworried about the disabled
smoke alarm, the writing on the wall-

on a stranger's futon
laid with sheets from Bombay,
which no longer exists,
except in paycheck stubs strewn
about a box
at the foot
of the next flight of stairs

up which,
past the shotgun named Reason,
the yellow bass named Nixon
drips a cord down to the amp
two flights below and this
is where Adam, another unlisted,
sits free of lease, and we prostelitize
in a daze, and Thomas feathers the bass,
the notes resounding
all the way up.

Woosh

I've been drawing robots for a pretty involved comic strip the past few days. They're pretty sweet, if I do say so myself. As I'm supposed to photocopy my sketches, I'll probably post some soon.

In the past week or so, no fewer than seven various different structures have been found in the woods, ranging from sweet huts to sprawling tree forts. Tree Tree, Helter Shelter, and the Opium Den are righteous hangouts.

Downloaded the Grey Album. Danger Mouse is the tits.

Need food now, more later.