dreamt that me and Ramsey Lewis were renting rooms from Linda. Linda was an eco-terrorist...her and her girlfriend would rent houses in Contra Costa County, plant forests inside the houses, watch houses be overwhelmed by trees, and mold, and spores, and leaves, caves would form, rooms would crumble, houses totally destroyed, forests began taking over the neighborhood. Ramsey Lewis and i reneged on the rent and got the hell out of there.
omg. this is where i'm going late May...Russian River with a gigantic group of lesbians...i'm going to eat so much BBQ under that umbrella...i'm going to drink so much cold beer on that deck...i'm going to swim hard in the cold river, very hard.
my friends make fun of the stuff i eat...they say stuff like "you're disgusting..." "what the hell is wrong with you..." "i can smell you from here..." "you're a _______ idiot..." a lot...what can i say, i have an idiosyncratic palate...sometimes i come home on a Friday night and it's late and maybe i'm a little perked and it's 3am and i'm hungry...so i make dinner...what follows below is my dinner from last Friday night, enjoyed at 3:38am while watching the latest episode of House on Hulu...bon appetite!
one whole can of re-fried beans
gobs and gobs of shredded Jack cheese
handful of diced onion
two hard boiled eggs
big handful of crumpled Oreo cookies
stir (mash) all together until boiling like thick lava...
everyone who knows me also knows that i eat probably a few hundred, nay thousand, pistachio nuts a week...i love my pistachios, i love my pistachios so much i have blisters on my pointer fingers from cracking shells...and then the recall happened and i was like 'whatever, doesn't affect me, i'm practically made of pistachios'...but also Kirkland, my favorite brand of nut, hadn't been mentioned in the media as one of the suspect brands...until i received a notice from the grocery basically saying "if you have any bags of Kirkland pistachio nuts matching this UPC number they may be contaminated with salmonella"...and then i begrudgingly check the UPCs on my 3 huge bags of pistachio nuts and lo and what the fuck behold they match...all three goddamn bags...on the one hand it kind of explains my poops for the last 3 weeks but on the other hand i might just be a hypochondriac but then again on the other hand my stomach has been acting really weird and i've been getting kind of freaked out in a "i'm currently listening to Joan Baez's Where Are You Now, My Son? and drinking a tall can of Miller on a Wednesday cause the power went out on 7th and Gilman and SPD sent us home" kind of way...i'm not happy but maybe my stomach is, maybe Joan Baez is, maybe SPD is...
holy cow...could Fighting be the new Glitter? the new Show Girls? well no, because it would have to at least be so-bad-it's-good entertaining, it's just bad, i mean way bad...there were plenty of unintentional laugh out loud moments (i can't think of any at the moment though) but def. not enough to warrant sitting through the movie...
Fighting is essentially a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie...Fighting is essentially a remake of JVCD's Lionheart, only really really boring and without the French Foreign Legion sub-plot...you know, fish out of water kind of movie...fish out of water needs money and meets shady street people kind of movie...then fish out of water ends up the hottest ticket in town as an underdog contender in an underground fighting circuit...then a bunch of blah-blah-blah happens which culminates with fish out of water taking it all in an ultimate battle-royal finale kind of movie...and don't forget all the token ethnic fight locations e.g. Chinese Restaurant (w/ Chinese music), Russian Hotel (w/ Russian music), Boogie Down Bronx (w/ Hip Hop music) etc. etc. etc...Fighting is a dumb video game cross-dressing as a Drama-with-some-fighting, and not passing...
i predict this movie will ruin Channing Tatum's acting career (hyperbole!)...and it just might end Dito Montiel nascent directing career...which totally sucks because i loved his (not without its flaws) debut A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints (based on his experimental memoir of the same title)...where all that awkward, improvised street kid realism worked in AGTRYS it completely bombs in Fighting...Channing Tatum's brooding vulnerability in AGTRYS was pitch perfect...in Fighting his character comes off like he has Down syndrome...
and Terrence Howard's worst performance since...well, since Glitter...
i have nothing else to say...don't see this movie...
plus side though: skating down Market in the hot-after-work-sun bombing through traffic...seeing Azikiwee and Scott La Rockwell...waiting for the bus with C. with a warm breathy nighttime breeze all up in my shirt...
"Dear Friends, Fans, Sycophants, and True Believers!
You may be asking yrself where the fuck has Transmission Press been? And to that I answer: Where the fuck have YOU been? And to that you should answer: Touche. We could go on like this, but what's the point? I mean, yes, duh, it's been something like 8 months or so since the last Transmission Press publication. And that sure does seem like a real long time, don't it? But, I figure, given the poetry world has a whole different sense of "time" then I must be doing alright here. I mean, have you ever been to a poetry reading? Yeah? So you know when a poet is given 15 minutes that that poet ALWAYS takes 45. So, considering that kind of time signature, I actually feel like Transmission is WAY ahead of the curve. Anyway...
Where were we? Hello, how are you? I'm fine. The Giants suck again, but I'm fine. Really, it's not a big deal.
Anyway, I hope yr doing well because we here at the Transmission Press have a brand new book for you that you NEED. If yr not already familiar with Sarah Menefee's poetry, then that's a shame. But if you are, you arleady know that Sarah Menefee is a remarkable poet of intimacy, insight, empathy, image, and music. IN YOUR FISH HELMET is no exception, and if you haven't read her previous books, this would be a fine start. Of course, after reading IN YOUR FISH HELMET, you should find everything else by Menefee that you can get yr hands on and DEVOUR it.
Go to transmissionpress.blogspot.com for more amusing facts and to PURCHASE the book!
Here's the first poem from IN YOUR FISH HELMET:
someone who came to me the other night
was the one whose tall truck cab
I climbed into: picked me up somewhere
when I was a teenage girl
we kissed and made out: then we talked: I was afraid to go all the way
I completed it the other night: he took out his fine cock
"now, 1/3" and thepoem (BlazeVOX Books) Chinese Notebook (Ugly Duckling Presse)
Maribor (The Post-Apollo Press)
Rude Girl (BlazeVOX Books)
Rave On! (Lew Gallery)
Gary Gygax (Cy Gist Press)
Rude Girl (Duration Press)
The Moveable Ones (Transmission Press)
Benthos (Silas Press). Lives in Oakland. Works for Small Press Distribution.