Friday, November 30, 2007
"They were entrenched in so many contracts it would take the dexterity of a contortionist to escape."
i like this paragraph in The Revisionist:
"The seeing-eye dog walked around and around her legs. Her clothes unwound and floated into a spiraling vacuum above her head, created by the peregrinations of the seeing-eye dog. Her hair unfolded in a fan formation. Her pupils spilled open, submerging her retina in black ink. The seeing-eye dog continued his circumnavigations. The woman gradually floated into the air. She revolved in a tight catatonic orbit, forming the central axis of a wider concentric circle whose outer limit was delineated by the circling seeing-eye dog."
when the sun starts setting at 4:15 i feel angry and sad. i do not know what to do.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Once a former roommate of mine had a rat as a pet. While I was staying elsewhere in the summer, it lived in a terrarium on my headboard. Its name was Aurora. It was white. It died before I came back. I was glad it died. That does not make me a bad person. I just do not approve of rats as pets.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
This week at Quimbys, I purchased an exciting video called Yoga for Indie Rockers, which I thought was pornography. It was an actual workout video. The people in it look like vegan west coast porn stars, but they are doing yoga. Maybe it's a two DVD set and I'm missing something. I guess I would recommend this video for a workout. My cats liked it. I don't know about Pilates for Indie Rockers. It just seems dirty.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
An important holiday message from Alby the Albino Deer: the original Sesame Street from 1970 is out on DVD and you should watch it with your whole family as you contemplate life in the inner city and how much more depressingly exciting television was back when all the writers were totally stoned.
Also: meat is murder, kids., especially in this article written by my friend Novella. Happy fucking holidays!
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
Astronomical Society of the Pacific by Jimmy Chen
Houses by Merida Gorman
i feel even smaller than my 4 foot ten frame by Prathna Lor
The Anaesthesiologist by Jefferson Navicky
Captions by Scott Garson
i also have a poem in there.
hey guess what? the nonstop grey rainy cold weather is making me want to die! other things make me want to die too! i wish something exciting would happen!
i am going to quimby's tonight to buy my copy of roy orbison in cling film. let me know if you want me to get you anything.
you. i'm talking to you.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Here's a review of the book that uses the author's real name (not even wrapped in a transluscent layer of clingfilm, because wrapping himself in clingfilm would be against his nature!):Review of Roy Orbison in Clingfilm novel
Friday, November 16, 2007
Steve McQueen is Smokin' Hot
But not as hot as your mom
Because your mom is hot
Also, Steve McQueen is dead which
introduces other factors like
and deep sea diving. Also, nuclear power
is not to be trusted especially when
in the hands of children. Never ever
open packages wrapped in
swiss cheese and
and sealed with boogers. Steve McQueen
died of a heart attack following surgery.
I die of a heart attack when I look at him.
And then I drink tea through my nose.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
when you are a mime pretending to be a tree you have to stay perfectly still or else people will not believe in jesus.
the sun starts to set at 4:30 now. that is terrible. i know what it makes you think of. it makes you think of how imminent your own death is. that your life is slipping away just like the clouds turning red and then fading into blackness at the premature hour of 5 o'clock.
i know what will cheer you up: gmail chats!
here is a gmail chat that i had today with vinnie lacey. backstory: vinnie is auditioning to be a second city host for a cruise ship.
me: will you have internet on the boat?
or will we just not hear from you at all for six months?
Vinnie: I think it's sporadic
me: i am going to write you a letter everyday. and then they're going to start piling up so that on the day that you get mail, you will have like 30 letters.
and you will be embarrassed in front of your friends. that's what my mom did to me when i went to africa. when i was in high school.
Vinnie: please sign them "venom literati"
me: nope, i'm signing them "mrs. vinnie lacey."
you went to africa? to prosthletize?
me: yes, you know this.
i dressed up as a mime.
Vinnie: I forget
me: yeah, i went to botswana for a month and we did a mime drama that was an allegory of the story of the gospel.
and remember that one time there was a horsefly biting me for a good 10 minutes but i didn't move at all b/c the leaders told us if we moved the audience would question our commitment to god and they wouldn't be saved.
so i just stood there, with a single tear running down my face.
and afterwards, all the other mimes on my team were very impressed.
sorry, I can't stop laughing
I just forgot it was Africa
or didn't put them together
me: actually, you're right, that happened in hungary. it was the summer before. but it was the same thing the next summer, just in botswana.
but there were no horseflies in botswana. although someone did throw rocks at me, and i couldn't move, so they just hit me in the face.
they were small rocks though so it was no biggie.
why is this not a blog, too
me: perhaps this will be the next g-chat installment on venom literati.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
These are things I have learned from my students yesterday:
In Latin America and probably elsewhere, soccer teams choose the colors of their jerseys according to what their countries produce. Wine=purple jerseys. Corn=yellow. Coke=white, as in Columbia. (I am making that up. Can we have a week where everything we post is made up?) The Chicago Fire soccer team chose red as a reminder of that gigantic fire caused by the cow way back when.
Children should not be given candy at movie theaters because it causes them to spaz out and disrupt everyone during the movie. Candy at movie theaters should be banned.
People who ride the bus, especially members of specific ethnic groups, smell bad. Children at homeless shelters are dirty and they smell bad, too, but they still have fun on Halloween.
When many of my students were young, there were these lollipops from Mexico that had your fortune printed on the stick. An example of a Mexican lollipop-fortune: "You will have six children." I think that is an inappropriate fortune for a young girl. But I'm jealous that I didn't grow up on fortune-lollipops.
At AA meetings, people may look tough and scary, but really they are good people who believe in God. Gangbangers may also look tough and scary, but really they have nicknames like chicle (bubble gum).
That's all I learned yesterday. I love my students. They can eat my life whenever they want.
Monday, November 12, 2007
My upstairs neighbor is moving out soon. I think she is a knitter. I've never actually seen her wearing a knitted sweater or knitted anything, but I wouldn't be surprised. Sometimes I see her around Wicker Park on one of her seventeen retro bicycles and she has a delirious grin on her face. I assume she is daydreaming about knitting, or about her cat Sasha who lives on my air conditioning unit and is my cats' mortal enemy. I don't really know that much about my neighbor, aside from the knitting, which I made up, and the fact that her living room is covered in a ginormous electric loom operated by robotic spiders, which I might also have made up. She doesn't do laundry very often. I like that about her. If you are a knitter who owns more than a week's supply of underwear, you should call my landlord and arrange to be my neighbor.
RELATED: Some nutjobs who were probably my neighbors at some point are knitting a coral reef to like, make a knitty commentary about Global Warming(via Gawker). Yeah, like that's not going to end up in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. I'm going to build an
alpaca out of seashells and send it to them.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
me: hey have you heard about that 8 limb girl in india?
Vinnie: yes, just watched a video on cnn actually
and she's a goddess, so watch yourself
me: parasitic twins!
Vinnie: that makes you happy?
me: sort of.
i just crave excitement. in any form.
Vinnie: as in not doing work
I get it, I get it
me: like, yesterday i was having this extended daydream where i realized i was pregnant, but clearly that's impossible, so the holy ghost must have impregnated me with the anti-christ.
and then i thought, "god, that would be exciting." and then i teared up a little.
Vinnie: oh, please write that as an episodic short
but i'm being serious, it made me a little bit sad. because i want so much for my life to be "about" something really big. even if that something is totally awful like giving birth to the anti-christ.
Vinnie: please blog this
and use that sentence
Vinnie: also, I hear you
I got the same problem and look at me, I'm weeks away from being broke with a BA degree and no direction for my life
I'd love to piss out the anti-Christ, even if it felt as bad as kidney stones
me: i'm glad that you understand. that makes me feel love for you.
i will blog it.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Also, I really do want to have a conjoined twin party at some point. You will not be required to be fused at the pelvis to attend.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
I got one nice and encouraging rejection from Diagram which means now I will stalk them and send them things until they are forced (out of the sheer volume of my psychotic submissions in their inbox) to publish something of mine.
Friday, November 2, 2007
The Sun-Times had an inane review of the Diamanda Galás show at the MCA last week. The reviewer (hopefully an intern) wasted half of her meagre word count grading Galás on punctuality. That was followed by attempts to describe the indescribable, complaints that the songs were not in English and an incorrect use of the word "ironic." Kirk and I thought the show was fucking amazing and are making plans to move to New York and live in boxes (a la Kobo Abe's The Box Man) and convert Galás to homosexuality. I think she would like that and find it flattering. When are we going to see Jasper Johns?
Thursday, November 1, 2007
does anyone know this vagina?
hot bodies are all that matters when it comes to love
They move around at 6am and at 3am and most of the time in between. The only thing I can think of that people do that requires them to walk around for hours on end is cleaning. If they are cleaning all day every day, then they are definitely meth addicts. I know this because of an anti-meth commercial that used to be on TV years ago, which of course I found on YouTube because YouTube has everything.
This is what I think they do at various times of the day in their apartment (when they are not cleaning):
- Stand in a squeaky spot and rock back and forth
- Play some sort of elaborate game that requires them to drag large pieces of furniture around the apartment, then pick them up and drop them
- Saw and hammer
- Drum their fingers in surprisingly good rhythm on any piece of furniture that is suitable, or on the floor itself
I fear I may have to become a meth addict myself in order to live in this apartment until June.
Beachwood may have to become a meth addict too, because she is scared of the noises from above. Of course, her energy level is kind of insane, so maybe she’s been sneaking upstairs while I’m at work and getting meth from the boys.
I just hope Beachwood doesn’t start to look like these people. If she starts to get really bad acne or Frankenstein hair, I will know the truth…
As if poets aren’t insular and weird enough to begin with, now there’s an article praising a new contest system whereby some guy personally select poets who will win his contest, based on what they’ve published. Wow, revolutionary!
I’ve decided to open my own lame poetry contest. Send the lamest poem possible to: firstname.lastname@example.org. I will also accept flash fiction, if accompanied by an appropriately lame cover letter that uses the word “craft” as a verb and a noun. In fact, your work should also be titled “Craft.” The winner will be someone I personally select as best and will be published on the blog. I will paypal the winner the current market rate of a can of PBR in at your local bar (not to exceed three dollars, dirty hipsters). Also, you will change your name to The Winner. Okay, go!
Update: If you are my friend, be sure to write I AM YOUR FRIEND in the subject line, in case I forget. If you are an attractive woman or a cat, be sure to include a photo.
Alan has chicken-blonde hair and is older than me but looks like he is 19. He speaks dramatically about everything he hates, especially the workplace, in the tone of a gossipy mom. He teaches research methods to art students at Columbia, which would be the most hilarious and awesome job ever. I barely know Alan, which is why he is cool.
Victor I barely know also. Victor is adorable and Asian. He giggles a lot. He is a supergenius and always degrades himself anyway. Like he pretends he doesn't know how to use PowerPoint for the benefit of my self-esteem. Victor is so smart and nice. I should have invited him over yesterday when I was trying to refill my ink cartridge in a cheapskate way: with one of those 10-dollar universal refill kits. I just got ink all over my hands. Then I thought I had gotten it to work, and all my printer did was print blank pages.
Jessie is not cool. For one, he is a man and spells his name like that. For two, he scowls around weasel-like all the time. I think he can spin his head completely around like an owl. He should to live in the woods. That way his family can be free of him.
Wow, it is gratifying to talk about people by name. I blame David Markson for this new love.
When Venom Literati becomes a press, Victor and Alan can be in charge of administrative duties. We will not have to ever get to know them, therefore they will be the best and cutest employees ever.