need i say more?
okay i’ll say more. long have i admired elimae for beauty. can’t lie, i feel pretty validated right now, like almost i don’t feel guilty for using up earth space and oxygen. this doesn’t happen often and it doesn’t ever last.
the story is about puppies sort of. it came from a mass of confusion in my belly. it just welled up like tears, bled out like sweat. can’t help being serious: i really really hope you enjoy it.
hi, you most of you sweet sweet guys know how much i love dogzplot flash fiction, don’t you, you big stars of the midnight sky. i sent something to barry again and again he liked it enough to publish it which makes me hate myself 0.000002% less. and that is not a measure of how much he means to me, just rather that i harbor many a self-loathing but that is a topic for another of all my stories and i guess what i am taking so long to say is that there is a nuevo pequeño párrafo mio en el chulo perroplotz!
FUN FUN IN THE SUN SUN! HOLIDAY WEEKEND COMPREHEND!
and here is a fun video to make you smile because my story maybe won’t! chow!
but what i really wanted to show you was something about playing with your penis (thanks, fellow sleepysnortfuckers!) and also that i have been contributing to we who are about to die too and also that ‘other’ has been kicking out some amazing things ok thanks
hello i am participating in international change your blog template (ICYBT) day which explains why this blog is now pink and which is what if you really loved me you would have noticed and emailed me about
Thing #1
Like some days ago Ben Brooks was here, but it turns out that he had been here all along. He was just hiding. His favorite hiding places are: in the fridge behind the bottled water I drink when I have panic attacks and making me laugh in front of YouTube windows and of course behind the couch. Some of the pictures in my head say: Ben eating frozen mango yogurt. Ben and Chris Killen leaning into each other in conversation. Ben sitting in the bathtub reading The Insurgent out loud. Ben making faces. Sometimes I think we talk about writing. Now Ben’s hiding in my womb.
I am reading An Island of Fifty out loud but in a soothing voice and it’s hard to tell if Ben’s listening. I want everyone to read Island of Fifty and The Insurgent right now. I want to read The Insurgent right now too and probably again at some future point.
Thing #2
In 2011 a chapbook on Mud Luscious Press will say my name and tell how my milkshake brings all the boys. A genuine MLP chap. I think it will be called this love is office lighting (great and harsh but always off when no one’s there). This is all thanks to J. A. Tyler. I fear if I think about it any more my heart will poof like glitter in a snowglobe and I will have to go to the emergency room again and I don’t like doctors.
i like matthew savoca’s field mice a whole lot.
matthew savoca, david ray, stephen daniel lewis, molly gaudry, daniel bailey and robert baumann all like mice.
i like mice too. i am cozy under daniel bailey.
thank you, stephen daniel lewis. robot melon is my favorite fruit.
i swam in the sea at some time past midnight in my panties and trees cannot do that however. i was not scared about the fish. the fish were not scared about me.
the last time i visited this town i slept in the gutter on the roof. it was five stories up and had i turned one inch to the left in my sleep i’d have fallen to my untimely drunken idiot death. lucky then that this did not happen though i often think how easy.
i heard the sea rush and could see the glass reflecting moon. this little town is magic in that it inspires minor recklessness and whatever you think about that you know things can be great if you like them.
in a white place with pillars on the side of a mountain i was groped by very many european boys until sunup. i don’t say this to amuse you it is just what happened.
finally here is a thing i wrote which ended up in JUNE PANK. i fancy pank not only for its awesome but because it sounds like ‘spank’ and i am always very pleased by palms meeting my bum at intervals.
so you see how everything makes sense.
I don’t know why boys make my ticking clock tock but we won’t go into that so there you go.
I reviewed (sorta, kinda) Scorch Atlas by Blake Butler for a shiny new site called ‘other’ which I am deeming ‘official hangout’ like The Peach Pit or The Max but with more stripey dicks and strange refrigerators.
Big-as-the-milky-way thanks to Crispin ‘Bringing the Internet Together’ Best and Socrates Adams-Florou, whose new novel touched me in my special place. Also theirs are not the stripey dicks far as I can tell.
limbs growing entwined with fertilizer
like happy plants that chew
like flowers growing for the sun
we grow each other into
several hours of exploding
for every one week of imploding
to a languid anguished afternoon
to a wish for wind or green or
for a pollinating hug or
a very leafy vine or a petal face
your skin is so soft tonight your
hair smells like the uprooting of trees
I’m 1549 on For Every Year, love like candy canes and many-headed monsters.
***
And here’s a heartfelt poem that For Every Year rejected. I still don’t understand why?
the queen of unsubtle obviousness
if i were a finger puppet
you would finger me
every time we are together
i would like that
Sleep is my favorite. No. Snort is my favorite! No! FUCK is definitely my favorite!!!
Sleep. Snort. Fuck. posted two of my things, the first one being about cocks and the other one being about cock.
Yeah, well, you know. Happiness is a warm cock and literature is a flaccid cock and I warned you this would turn into the house of fucking cock full of grade-A, number one cock.
Cocky cock peacock I love you cock