Thursday, August 01, 2002

 
It's wierd, but after weeks of crummy computer access and lots to say, I find myself in front of a computer that seems to be working pretty well, but I'm completely blank. What to talk about? Well, I went to a store in Den Haag in search of a bag and found myself in love with a bag that cost 110 euros. Who says I don't have champagne tastes? I barely restrained myself and settled instead on buying the new (well...not so new anymore) Jon Spencer Blues Explosion CD. Let me tell you, it kicked my ass all over the place. Or to quote the late Miles Davis while speaking of Charles Parker: "That shit was horrible! He played like a motherfucker!"

You betcha.

Last week I actually had a visitor. A family friend of sorts was wandering Europe on a rail pass and ended up sick and exhausted in the Netherlands and no doubt left in an even worse state, since he ended up sleeping on my couch, which, if it's too short for me, well, it's too short for everyone. On the plus side, we had Greek food in large, meaty quantities, though we only settled on a restaurant after a good hour of wandering. Still. Delicious.

Today, I got a library card. It costs 24 euros, though if I'd gotten it in two months, I would have had to pay 31. See? I'm not as old as I thought.

Next week my three week vacation starts. I'm on call for the first week, which apparently means I can't leave the country for that time, though I'm out of here the very minute it's over with and heading out to various far-flung and exotic locales. Hopefully for your sakes, my blog will be chock full of excitement then. But until then...
posted by Alleen at 4:44:24 PM

Tuesday, July 30, 2002

 
your poem, milady.

DEATH SONG OF THE LIVING ROOM LAMP
(an exercise in personification)

SMALL HANDS
  (GRUBBY, TANNED)
 REACH OUT
       IN SUPPLICATION
   AND FOR A MOMENT
     THE HANDS ARE CLEAR
OULINED AGAINST
              MY BODY. ILLUMINATED
               BEFORE HE
              PUSH
             PUSH
            PUSHES
           ME
  RIGHT OVER THE SIDE.
S        M        A        S        H        .
 MY BODY SHATTERS
       SPREAD 
        LIKE A 
  PORCELAIN TAROT A
  PIER ONE PATTERN
       OF ENTRAILS AND DUST.
          THAT LITTLE SNOT.
I HOPE HE
         CUTS HIMSELF
            ON
               ONE OF
                 THE
PIECES
.

posted by Rocketbride at 6:59:47 PM

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