Another Interview Question Ah, this is so fun, so first off I’d invite Tokischa – not Madonna, even though I love her, but at my birthday party? I don’t think so. But the reason I’d invite Tokischa is definitely because of that raunchy video she did remaking Madonna’s Hung Up, with her a couple years back. And add Joseph Gordon-Leavitt. I don’t care that he’s grunged out so. I just noticed he’s Axel Foley’s new partner, what a perfect pair they’ll be. Ooh, and we have to have some good old fashioned liberal journalistic flair, so let’s make sure that Rachel Maddow and Nicole Wallace come. Lov ..read more

Interview Moment Oh it’d be Trevor, I can’t even tell you why, though, I just totally dug that name, maybe, or I guess I’d heard of two Trevors that I know of, one being Trevor Horn because Howard Jones was my favorite artist for a lot of my late adolescence and teenage years, all the way to college, actually, I’d perform Dream Into Action, you know, the title track of his album that had the hits New Song and No One Is to Blame (only not the version with Phil Collins playing the drums), but the title track which was not released and which nobody but me knew. But I knew it. I’d always wear a p ..read more

A Shrug Isn’t Exactly What I’m Saying Feeling a bit melancholy on a Friday, but can I also say I’m feeling more alive and healthy and hopeful than I’ve felt in a very long time (pardon while I intentionally do not attempt to calculate that duration). Does everyone not hold such conflicting feelings at once on a general basis? I guess not, but as we enter June, this Gemini says with confidence, hesitance and a little bit of pride and glee: I do. And a hello from mixed up me to beautiful you ..read more

Body & Soul I, tenderly, am an awkward person. It isn’t that I’m not of a mind. It’s just that generally, awkward, anxious, flighty, always thinking ten steps ahead, these things don’t render the tender. Regardless of this logical incapability, I try. I do try. And speaking of logic, the typical mode I use to walk through each day in hopes of making it to another in the most pleasant and satisfying way, I am, nevertheless, an idealist, a rom antic. I mean I make my way awkwardly through these days I intend to complete, if only just to get to the next, a poet. If that means I’m a romantic ..read more

Abstract Painting My favorite memory is full of color, lots of blues for the water running through the city, golden from the brilliant sun, pastels from the paint cover ing the residences alongside. Architect ure that doesn’t feel metallic, is organic in that space, being at a deficit, is fully utilized. Water drains behind my eyes, such pleasure in the aesth etic. A gondolier’s song. The only rain showers were upon entry to the city of the most pleasure and, with a beautiful stark black umbrella, from that famous square in the hours before having to head back into routine civilization ..read more

Poem from Stone How long should it last? Is it the marker for a grave? What do I want to say, if given the opp ortunity, to you? Who are you and what is it like to be here at... when is this? It would have to be about me. I like the feeling I get writing that. It’s so naughty. Or maybe it could be inhuman, filled with active verbs turned nouns. Me, erased completely. That seems so insincere. Or. Maybe you could come here. Save me (us) from what you know took me (us). Do you have the cure? Imagine nothing. Blank space. A sheaf of paper with nothing on it. No blood. No ink. From me ..read more

A Smooth June I’d found an apartment just beneath Nob Hill, where even back then people would say TenderNob rather than Tenderloin. Lower Nob Hill. I made a little office out of half of the closet of that studio apartment. It had a window with a pretty view behind the old fire station that had become the residence of the Fire Chief, or had been. The current Fire Chief had stayed at their current residence. Or that was my under standing. But there was a lovely back lawn behind it that I could see out that window, which was spotted with live blooming plants here and there. This was my first room ..read more

Down As The Way Up Memory can’t save everything. Some things that I used to know can, perhaps, never be known again. Like being sexy, or con fidently flirty. [I hear a collective sigh?] But imagine my dis appointment. I think to myself, This should not be the case. But that I let you take these things away from me, that’s the hell of it all. Imagine your surprise when, all these years later, I refuse to blame my self, blame you. These rare moments when I give in, blame my self, utterly, are the worst possible. This should not be the case. Thieves of the soul, all of you. I was not ..read more

The Plunger’s Pucker what am I doing? reading doesn’t help. i’m pretty sure that talking about it doesn’t exactly resolve anything either. what ’s gotten into me? my head spins until i’m exhausted. this blank screen, my lovely, lonely notebook. were i to outright to give into this chokehold i’d assuredly kick the proverbial bucket ..read more

Paper Pumpkins Woke up from a dream of being strangled. I stretch myself out as long as I possibly can. Hold myself at that length, slowly untangle from the deep of the night and worry if this is far as it goes. Craving curry, I give up, boil a pot of spaghetti at 4 in the morning ..read more