Sara Mumolo and Dropsy

Sara Mumolo has a new poem for Dropsy!
Check it out.

He's sick at the moment, but if his poems get a lot of hits, he might get better on his regimen of medication.

New Yipes, Lab Poetry Marathong, and Thoughts about Mills People

Last night's New Yipes was very fun, and how.
I don't usually go in for prose readings. I love novels and everything, but hearing someone else read them is often rather boring. Stephen Beachy was not in the least bit boring. His work was good, and it ended somewhere I did not see coming. I thought the ending was exciting. It was like I had been lulled a bit and then smashed in the face with talk of war and violence. I liked that very much. I like being smashed in the face with almost anything.

I wore a bandanna. Sara Mumolo gave it to me.

Martha XIV was phantabulous. I dug the videos so much this time out that I wanted to give up serious literature and start making videos. Watching people eat corn can do that to a man.

Lara Durback did a great deal with recorded sound and white poker chips. Her nervous laughter was endearing, and the whole avant-garde-performance-reading thing was well received by all, methinks.

...............:::::::...............::;

I like talking to people at New Yipes. But last night was a little cliquey. People who go to or have gone to Mills don't like anyone. They are mean people I think. They never invite anyone to their readings. Well, they never invite anyone I know to their readings. I like the Mills people. But they don't like me. I always try to talk to them, but they don't talk to me or anyone I know. I think they think they are the CIA or something. They make fun of every other school in the area. I don't understand this. I somehow ended up at the other end of the alley, so I couldn't say hello to everyone without being rude to the people I was with. None of the Mills people came to say hello to me. They are always saying absurdly malicious things about UC Berkeley, too. All this hurts my feelings. What is up with Mills people?

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The night before that I went to the Lab Poetry Marathon. I have seen Lisa Robertson read the same ten or so pages from THE MEN four times now I think. I hope that some day she writes/reads something new. I like Lisa Robertson. I want something new, though. Judith Goldman, Andrew Joron, and Denise Newman were good. I sat down next to Andrew Joron, and he said hello to me, and we talked a bit. He must have gone to a school where people have manners.

That was not nice. Many nice people go to Mills or have gone to Mills. Many of them even have manners. I just wish more of them were nice to my friends and me. It is nice to be nice, after all.

Tomorrow Night: New Yipes

New Yipes with Lara Durback, Stephen Beachy, and films by Martha XIV.
Come for poetry and films.
Poetry and films are good for you.
You need more poetry and films.
It's easy to get to, too.

Like Simon and Garfunkel Because I Love the Bay.

By all accounts, David Larsen was fantastic last night at his reading at the EYEBALL HATRED reading series at Pegasus. I wasn't there. I am in a fairly excruciatingly dismal place.

I will be leaving it tomorrow morning. I will go to the Lab Poetry Marathon tomorrow evening to see Edward Foster, Judith Goldman, Andrew Joron, Dana Teen Lomax, Denise Newman, and Lisa Robertson. How wonderful that, after having missed two great readings, I can attend a super-gigantic reading! And one of my favorite things in the world, NEW YIPES.
What's frightening:
I don't know how I am going to leave the bay. Everyone leaves eventually. I have to live in New York before I die. . . and India. . . and maybe Japan for a longer time. But how will I leave the bay? Everyone I love is here. I have met the best poets, people, and bloggers right here. The people here are rather smart, and the bookstores have books in them I actually want to buy. . . if I had money to buy books.

It wasn't always like this. My first few months in Berkeley, I was disappointed and didn't like it. One of my only friends, who had lived there for two years, felt the same way. It felt hopeless. That person ended up being a deplorable, worthless human being, and I love Berkeley, SF, and Oakland. How could you live in the bay area for two years and be miserable?

My time away has been hard. It wasn't Fullerton's fault, it wasn't Billy Collins's fault, it was the San Francisco Bay's fault, because somewhere along the line, I kind of fell in love with it.
There's a lot of fancy cars in Orange County and a lot of big houses, too. Very beautiful beaches and rich people. But there's no art. There's no character.
Having Grown up in Los Angeles, I will always defend Southern California, but I haven't called a place home for many, many years. I thought that I had lost what that word meant.

Tomorrow morning, I'm finally coming home.

lover's cushion.

David Larsen Tonight and Operation Snake.

Jenny Drai, an Operation Snake operative, a poet, and one of the funniest people on goodreads, now has a blog. It is also rather funny. I laugh while reading it.

Confirmed Operation Snake operatives now include Tao Lin, Kathryn Regina, Jenny Drai, David Larsen, and William Moor, too.
WOW!!!
----------------------≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠
I have to say this just once:
Michael Vick makes me sick, and I cannot believe it is even a discussion what the NFL should do. The fact that it is a discussion makes me feel good about myself for hating the NFL and various other professional sports leagues and organized religions. Aren't these the same people who tarred and feathered Janet Jackson for a wardrobe malfunction?
==========+++++++++++++++++=====
Tonight, David Larsen is reading at Pegasus. It is no secret that he is one of my favorite poets and that I will be crying myself to sleep tonight because I won't be able to go. I did the poster. I like it.
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨iiiii¨¨¨¨¨::::...::¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨::¨¨¨¨:.
The city of Fullerton emailed me to tell me that they read all sorts of poetry.
They love Billy Collins, for example.
That's good.

Sorry, CSUF. Sorry Poet.

I never learned to read a calendar. The clock and punctuality are very important to me. If I am late, I am probably dead. When people are late, I think they are dead. But sometimes I get days mixed up.
I think that it is the reason why I ended up going to pseudo chic bars all over North Orange County last night rather than going to a poetry reading at the Gypsy Den in Santa Ana as planned. When we found out that I had gotten the night wrong. I wanted to go get tattoos, but none of my friends wanted to get tattoos. Neither of them have any. I wish I had friends that would just get tattoos on a whim with me when poetry readings have been cancelled or whatever.
غøºøººººººøøøøøøøºo0o)O)Ooo0oøºØØ؂غ0o
Hipster bars there are weird to me. At one, Proof, they had naked lady pictures all over the wall, and Bettie Page videos playing on projectors. They played music that no one in the room seemed to like. The girls looked like hipsters in the bay, but they were dressed like the people on MTV. I don't have cable, so I don't really know what people dress like on MTV, but I think everyone has a feeling or an idea or something. They started setting up something that looked like a stripper pole and a D.J. booth. The OC Weekly said it was going to be a cool D.J. night, but we left when we saw the stripper pole. Once you've dated a couple strippers, strippers tend to gross you out, I think...................
‚‚ººº‚‚.................... .... .. ... ........ .. .:::::...:.....
We went to Fullerton. I lived there for awhile when I was young and rich. All the Cafés I went to are bars now. The bartender used to be a manger of one of the cafés. Everything was very artificial and eerie in Fullerton. The women were very flirtatious, and that was nice. They were nice.
But I was drinking, and I said something to a friend that was mean. Then he said something mean. And then we were just mean together
I said, I don't think any women in here know how to read. I don't think they like poets.
He said, They all go to Cal State Fullerton. Don't say you're a poet, just tell them about UC Berkeley, and you're in. They'll think you'll be rich.
Now I am depressed about the degree of superiority I felt. I am sorry, Fullerton. I don't like you anymore, but that's no reason to insult your women and your college.
opopooooooooppppooooopopoooooooooopoø
On a brighter note check this out!
I need to get three hundred dollars so that I can buy a real Tony Creed ring. I will sell a poem to someone for three hundred dollars and buy it. It's going to be great.

Tao Lin wrote a lovely poem for Dropsy.
It is good.

Oh Man.

The spelling breaks my heart, but is anything as deliciously bad as teenage poetry?

Jack Kerouac Lives

I hate using cliché like "rolling in one's grave," but this is serious as a movie producer. Next we're going to have Jack Kerouac toilet seat covers and Allen Ginsberg rubber gloves.
oO0øººoøøøøoOOø0ºººoøøøøoOº
øøøøøøø0ºø0ºººººººººººøº0øO
You know what's cool about HOBOEYE? When they publish you, they send you postcards you can send your friends. If you email me your address, I will mail you a postcard. There are only a few things I adore more than postcards. I think they are the perfect form of mail. I enjoy sending postcards to people. You enjoy getting them.

FUCK PAIN!!!

Hooray

Fun things in poetry have been happening.

I am working on:

Abraham Lincoln cover
Operation Snake
Operation Miracle
Holloway Posters (Fall '07)
Operation Ninja (MS length book of poetry by Jack Morgan finishing tonight)
Blog
Technorati Profile

I also just found out that I will be in town in time for the Lab Poetry Marathon! Totally deck!
My date to that event will be the one and only Clay Banes, but you should come if you can. We will talk to you and make you feel famous. On the 26th, NewYipes will be going down at 21 Grand. Can't wait for that. Dig the Flyer. There is quite a lot to be positive about in the poetry world.

STAY POSITIVE, MAN!

Tonight I missed a reading by one of my favorite poets.

I wanted to see Mark Wallace read very much. I have blogged about his last book, NOTHING HAPPENED AND BESIDES I WASN'T THERE. It is a great book.

I gave my copy to Tao. I don't know if he read it. I hope he did.
Every time I leave town, this is what happens. I miss an amazing reading.
========================
In the meantime. I am trying to keep a good sense of humor about things. There is this one person who says very mean things about me. Deep breath. Think about something positive.
-------------------–≠-–≠==≠–≠––––≠
My friend, Jasper Bernes, gave me a copy of his book. My friend Jenny Drai gave me a copy of hers. I will start reading them both tomorrow. I feel honored to be given books by two such talented people.
))))))º0ºº0ººººººº000 0º 0 ºº ºº º ºº 0
I am going to three open mic.'s next week. Cool? I don't know. I hope so.
=++++++==++++++++==
Mumolo and I are trying to get a gig in Santa Cruz at Book Store Santa Cruz. I hope that we can. We love reading together. I think that people love to see us read together.

I LIKED IT A LOT, BUT...

My friend, likes Tessa Rumsey's book, The Return Message, so she made me read it. It is an odd book. It is oddly shaped. It is also a beautiful book. It works beautifully as a book. It is not a collection of poems in the sense that one stands by itself very well; all together, they are very beautiful. It is a long book. A couple times, I thought I was going to put it down. I do that a lot. I often take long breaks from poetry books. But I didn't put it down. And by the end, I couldn't believe, really, how much I liked The Return Message.
. ..:.:.. ..::: ..:. . .......... . . ::. . ..:: .: ..... There's one thing that bothers me about it.
I like Jorie Graham. I like to drop her name and tell people that I had dinner with her. I get to have dinner with famous poets sometimes. Jorie was really cool. I liked her reading. I like the way she talks to people. I like her poetry.

Some people don't think it's cool to like Jorie Graham. This is partly because of controversy surrounding certain contests. The thing about contests is that they are often shams. It's cool to win them, though. I've won contests. I have even won a big contest. I think that is pretty cool. I don't think I've mentioned it in a bio when submitting, though, because I think that it shouldn't matter to an editor. Does it matter? I don't think it does. On the cover of Tessa Rumsey's book it says in cursive script "Winner of the Barnard Women Poets Prize, judged by Jorie Graham." Would you want this on the cover of your book? On the back, Jorie Graham's citation is quoted.
Anyway, I hate the cover for a lot of reasons and now I'm rambling.
I guess the point is that I don't think anyone cares where a poet's been published or what awards they've received or even what school they went to. Or maybe people do care, but I don't think that would make them want to buy the book. Blurbs are cool. I like blurbs. But no matter how much I like some of the super stars of poetry, I don't care if they gave you an award. I don't care if you studied with them. At this point, hasn't everyone?

Biz Markie: Bennie And The Jets

This clown puts the hardest thugs in stitches; word.

Even Cooler Maybe!

When I was 19, I got a tattoo. 23.
Now v. 2.3 of HOBOEYE has published poems of mine.
Coincidence?
Sara Mumolo also has a fantastic poem there.
It's great to be with friends.
===============
Speaking of friends, Tao Lin gave me a copy of A Green Light by Mathew Rohrer, the one from Oklahoma. I finished reading it yesterday and was sad that it was over. It really is an amazing book of poetry. I particularly liked Mongolian Death Worm and Quilt and Summer Saturday Morning and The Great Submarine Race.

You Say You Want a Revolution and Cool Stuff

I have been hearing a lot about revolution lately. I don't think I know what a poetic revolution is.
I like that people want to argue with me about this blog. People email me and leave comments on my facebook. Sometimes they say mean things about me on their blogs. This is good.

But I don't want to revolutionize anything. A lot of what I say about poets being better than other artists is tongue-in-cheek. Originally, "better" had only to do with the poet's sexual prowess and passion. This was obviously half-joke.

I think that poets are the best people to comment on society. I think that people should turn to poetry for much more than wedding and funeral toasts. I think that poetry is the best art form because it employs the one tool that makes us unique as humans. I also think that wordplay is the most natural play that human beings engage in. . . way more fun than swordplay or gunplay.

I think that many people are living in despair because they are exposed to mostly crap music, mostly trashy literature, very little art, and almost no poetry. Crap is OK; everyone loves crap from time to time. But when all you eat is twinkies, your life starts to suck really quickly. So the only revolution I support is one that exposes more people to poetry.
+++++++++++++++++++
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
People also want to know what I am doing in Orange County. I am rotting here. I am taking care of dogs. I am not from here, but I have lived here. My mother lives here, but she doesn't right now, so I am taking care of her French bullldogs. I have to feed one of them bloody hamburger by hand. I am vegetarian. This is fairly disgusting, but if he doesn't eat like that, he get's sick. The only readings here are open mic.s, and they are all in north county. I haven't had a car in years, so it is hard to get to them.
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Some really cool things have happened.

• Jasper Bernes's book, Starsdown just came out. I got a sneak peek, and what I have read so far I really like. It is available at Pegasus as of yesterday.
• Tao Lin wrote a poem for Dopsy4ever. It will be published next Wednesday.
• Guess who is going to design the cover of Abraham Lincoln's third issue. ME!!!

Anyway, thanks to all of those who emailed me with negative comments about poetry and poets. I like them, and I think that you secretly do, too. The scene might get gross sometimes, but that's OK. The self-loathing poet is passe.

Yay for Dropsy and Jenny Drai; Boo for Orange County

Jenny Drai was just published at Dropsy4ever!

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

I was going to go to a poetry reading tonight, but I was feeling snobby. I haven't been to an open mic. in awhile, and if it sucked I would have been very upset.

I have spent a great deal of time in Orange County. It never felt like home even though I lived there for a few years. People who worship the beauty of plastic, people who think that beauty and perfection are synonymous, love Orange County.

I don't like Orange County.

marshmallows

My mom made me rice crispy treats.
That's nice.
When I was a kid, I loved them.
I ate a few of them before I remembered what they were made of.
When I remembered what they are made of, I started to remember what marshmallows are made of. They usually have gelatin inside. Did these? Who knows?
Totally nasty gross.
I am so stupid. I was all cloudy-eyed from the nostalgia miasma. Now I feel gross on my insides.
= ==== =- == ----==
=-====-== == ======
My new favorite blog is Venom Literati.
I have been reading them for a little over a week, and I like them very much.

The girls at VENOM LITERATI are just as sweet as Marshmallows, but they don't make me sick at all. I wonder if they're as rich as marshmallows?

Honest Abe

Hello.

I would like to say, honestly, that I am dreaming of designing the cover of Abraham Lincoln. Anne Boyer and K. Silem Mohammad are very nice people. I have a feeling if I just keep talking about it here. If I just keep saying, "I want to design the Abraham Lincoln cover," they will email me or write on my Facebook wall, "Jack, we would love for you to design the cover of Abraham Lincoln."

They only publish really, really, really good poets, and only really, really, really good artists have designed their cover. I would like to be either one very soon.

It's rather difficult from time to time to try to ballance the tasks of visual and word art. Being a really, really, really good writer and artist is rather difficult.

It's really, really, really fun, though.

Good-bye.

I have a feeling that a rich, beautiful woman will marry me if I design the Abraham Lincoln cover.

Poets are Better than Musicians (and an excuse to put a beautiful naked woman on the blog).

Think back to the nineties.
Remember Stephanie Seymour?
She doesn't remember you either. She was rich when she met Axl Rose. You remember Axl Rose. She was rich and she was beautiful, and she went with Axl. AXL!



She didn't know that poets are better than musicians. We need to get the word out. Tell all your musician friends that they are pieces of crap. And that they stink really bad. And that they aren't as cool as poets.
I mean, Axl Rose was pretty poetic at times with hits like "You Could Be Mine" and "Welcome to the Jungle" but he was never really a poet. What would he do with Stephanie Seymour? He would beat the hell out of her, that's what.

I am going to save up money for an advertising campaign that says,

POETS: WE WON'T BEAT YOU UP IF YOU'RE RICH AND BEAUTIFUL AND MARRY US.

She only married him in the video, but come on.
I'll work on it. Look for this or something similar on a billboard in your town soon. This is for all of us now. Maybe:

POETS: IF YOU'RE RICH AND BEAUTIFUL, PLEASE COME TO A READING.

I am sorry I couldn't find a naked picture of Axl for all of you who would have liked that better than Stephanie Seymour.

Good-bye, Merv.

Trump hated Merv so much that Merv died. Fuck you, Donald Trump.

A Long, Sappy Post about Feelings and Stuff

Did you know that all poets and other artists really want is for people to believed in? Poets don't think that they are going to change your life with a poem. They don't think that you are going to find some greater meaning in your life through something they produced in the course of theirs. Most of them have no interest in entertaining you. A lot of them don't even think that what they're doing is meaningful at all. They want you to believe it.

Today, Hillary Gravendyk bought me coffee. We talked about the Holloway Series. It's going to be good this year. I only do their posters and help promote it, but it's kind of an honor to be a part of it. I remember when I told all my friends that I wanted to do the posters, they all told me I was being presumptuous in thinking anyone would let me. The people who loved me didn't believe in me. Lyn Hejinian believes in me. Charles Altieri believes in me. Hillary believes in me. And that's good. People like those posters, and that elates me. A few weeks ago, I designed the New Yipes poster because David Larsen believed in me.
Someday K. Silem Mohammad will believe in me.

That was a lot of name-dropping. Sorry.

THE POINT:
Right now I am in dire straits financially. It happens to people like me from time to time. I am always flush or broke. Every artist I have ever met is the same... except for the rich ones.
Everything will work out. The people who believe in me come through for me in times like these. The people who love me, love me when they have something to gain. The people who believe in me stand to gain nothing. Love dies, but belief is immortal. The people who have loved me have learned to say good-bye to that. The ones in my life who have stuck around have been the ones who believe in me.
Sometimes I wonder how rich people or salary people find out who's who.
----------------------------
This blog's about poetry, but I saw a play today with Clay put on by Actors Ensemble of Berkeley at Live Oak Theater. It was David Ives's All in the Timing. It was fantastic, but it was also its last night. They're doing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead in October though! Splendid!

And the tentative schedule for Holloway is:

Sept. 27: Rae Armantrout
Oct. 4: Ted Pearson
Oct. 31: Amiri Baraka
Nov. 15: Rachel Levitsky

with a super special grad student reading right before each big name person!

Glorious!
All I need now is a rich woman to love and believe in me. My quest becomes more difficult with each passing day and revelation.

Found Poetry

I found a poem a few days ago at Pegasus while reading the Hipster Handbook. It was folded into a tiny boat.
I think it was the universe trying to tell me to stop reading about how to further classify people and to get back to poetry.

It also made me think that poets are everywhere, leaving little gifts for one another, telling each other, "I love you."

Electric Poetry

PG&E said I didn't owe them any money this month. They say I paid too much last month.
I don't need to take that shit from them.

Every month, I pay a little extra, so now they owe me money.
Every month, I send them a poem.
I write it in Spencerian script.
I think it's funny to write the Electric company poems, and it fits into my philosophy that poetry should be part of everyone's every day life.
The person who opens my check will have it.
If they can read Spencerian script.

The poem for this month is

Dearest Ex-lovers:
by Jack Morgan

I developed a roll of film
there was a photograph
of every woman
who ever bothered

We were smiling
when wars started;
spirits of our times.

We flew through the air
landing in cotton springs
of Mayco mattresses

to wrap ourselves
booming breastplates
arms pulse whispers

Caprtured on film:
the blurred result.

I love you, PG & E. You will know it, even if I have to use my own envelope.

blogs

A lot has been said of poets and blogs... or poets with or without blogs. Or something like that.
Here are the blogs I like the most right now. The ones I check every day and am bummed out about when they don't update.

• Bronwen
• Clay
• Jane
• Tao

I don't think that a poet needs a blog. In fact, it might hurt more than help, really, unless you have one of those filters between your mind and your hands. I don't seem to have one. I have to be more careful lately. People get very angry with me about this blog. So I edit more than I used to.

I think it is a way to keep writing while taking a break from writing. I am on the computer a lot. I don't have a job on the computer right now, but I am working on it a lot. And I don't want to get up and go out all the time; I'm broke after all.

Some people think only failed poets have blogs, and others think that you have to have a blog to be successful. I started this blog to kind of record the lives of poets. It's not a blog about poetry. . . there are enough of those, but I want it to be about what it is to be a poet right now.
I've learned to love my blog.

I hope that it helps me find a rich woman to marry for love.

Video Store Poetry on the Immortal Star

I go to the same video store as Lyn Hejinian. Sometimes I see her there and get nervous because, although we've met, I am starstruck when I see famous poets in non-poetic settings. Our video store is small, and people have to slide against each other to see the new arrivals without tipping over the foreign language rack. And then out of context, I know it's uncomfortable to try to remember where you met the other person when they already know who you are. Especially if you meet a lot of poets, who all have something similar about the way they look.Today a beautiful non-poet woman tried to stop and talk to me in the street. I told her that I would not talk to her because she is a flake. I know her. She is a flake. Beautiful people often think that they can mistreat people or simply fail to consider people with impunity. That's the truest form of vanity. If someone is late all the time, it's because they don't care about you, being self absorbed. They don't need to, you'll take the abuse. Especially if they're beautiful.
A poet doesn't need to take that shit.
We are the bards of our generation. We are the immortal.
There aren't that many of us, but there are millions upon millions of pretty people. I see them every day. Lyn Hejinian; I don't see her every day.

Dropsy

Dropsy is the name of my fish. Here is picture of him rolling thug style with his boys. He is the only one who will care when I die. People who make fun of me and are mean to me should bear this in mind right before they go to bed at night. If they fall right to sleep, then they obviously have no soul.

Many people are obsessed with their cats. Some people are obsessed with their dogs. I dote on my Dropsy. He is the only one who will care when I die.

Murdercycle

Flarf is dead. I never liked him very much. If he had a fish, it would be dead right now.

INTERVIEW

Tao Lin wanted to interview a man with a penis size problem. So he called me because mine is ginormous. It's because of Murdercycle, which has already been read by over 25,000 visitors.
Luckily, the patch works. I've been almost normal for awhile now. It was just too bad ass. It's hard being this bad ass. But it's fun.

Murdercycle

Check it out. I've published the most bad ass poem ever.

Scott Bentley and Douglas Rothschild at Last Night's Eyeball Hatred Reading

Did you know Rothschild comes from the German meaning "red sign?"
It does.

Scott Bentley was cool and did a little trick with a guy in the back of the room that surprised everyone and brought little wry smiles to everyone's faces and made everyone happy that they came out to a poetry reading on an unusually cold Sunday summer night.

Douglas Rothschild threw oranges at people during his poem about oranges.
A fun night out with poets.

Took the bus with Clay Banes, who told me that he was going to take over the world of poetry by using his blog as a brainwashing device utilizing the latest technology in subliminal suggestion. Sometimes it's hard to read the signs, but I think Clay might be delusional.

Speaking of retinal impressions, have you seen the newest development on the walls of Pegasus? I always liked the stencil work, but it's even cooler now. I found out that it is the beautiful Isla who is responsible for the beautiful stencil work on the walls that house the best book store in the world. Had I known that, I would have told her in person how wonderful they are. Now there are these circular designs around the stencil portraits that look very good.
I said, "yo Bansey, these look like dat stuff dat guy from keepdrafting do."
Clay said, "you gots a good eye, sirrah. 'Tis."
I said, "word."
You should make it to Pegasus in order to buy poetry. But if yain't got no money, you should at least check out the wicked mural work happening on the walls.
***************************
In other news, I have not found a rich woman who wants to marry a poet for love yet. Should I go to Korea like Nick Cage?

Poets make much better lovers than actors.

Rich and Famous

I will never be rich. So I am looking for a rich woman to love me. She can marry me for love, and I will marry her for money, and we will both be very happy, and I will read her poetry every day. I will dedicate every book to her. And I will kiss her toes and touch her hair or something.
-------------------
Last night someone thought it would be funny to make a group on Facebook called "I Fucking Hate Jack Morgan." Today there is a group on Facebook called "I Fucking Hate Jack Morgan." This is not going to help me find a rich woman to love me. Rich women, being the only ones who can afford to marry for love, don't like the bad boy thing. Maybe they do.

I am the bad boy of poetry. I think.

I put a thing on Facebook saying that if a thousand people join the group, I will move to Darfur.
============
I am going to be in an online journal on Tuesday. On Monday, I will tell you which one. It will be the best poem you ever read if you read it.
The poem is called Murdercycle.
It includes the best author photo ever taken of any poet in the world.
++++++++++++
Connie Coady is one of the best poets I have ever met. She is one of my favorite people in the world and she is gong to organize a reading tour for Sara Mumolo and me in NYC. You hear that? All you loyal fans in New York will finally experience the grandeur , pomp, and spectacle that is a Sara Mumolo reading. I will be there mostly for moral support and guidance. I am mostly going to find a rich woman to marry.

Art Murmur

Last night was Art Murmur in Oakland, and it was fun. We read poetry to each other, and Sara bought a poem from the guy who types poems there. There was a man with a theremin-type thing that made strange musical sounds when people touched each other. Many people were touching each other.
I took a picture of that, but it turned out ugly.
At Luka's, someone took a picture of me looking artsy.
We wandered Oakland and found a car covered in bones of various animals, terrestrial and extra. I am calling it devil car even though I am sure its owner has given it a real name.Also, I am famous now.

Pegasus this Sunday

You should come to a reading because you need more poetry in your life.

Loveis in the Air

pssssst, you wanna know a secret?
Rich women marry poets because they are the only ones who can afford to marry for love.
++++++++++
Speaking of love, I read Brandon Brown's new chapbook published by Transmission, and I kind of loved it a lot. It's called 908-1078, which I thought was a lame title, but now I think it's rather brilliant. Thanks Brandon!
----------------
Someone who hates me left town for good. That makes me happy.
===========
Speaking of happiness, Hoboeye is going to publish some of my poetry. Woo-Hoo!!!
==========
Someone owns the copyright on love, but it isn't me. It's for sale, but I don't have any money.

The Best Weekend of Poetry EVER!!!

These past few days have been so eventful that it has been difficult keeping everything straight, but I think I have it down now. It went something like this:

24 July: One of my favorite artists, David Larsen, calls me up and wants me to do a poster for New Yipes, one of my favorite things to do, and I say yes even though it has to be done by Saturday, which would normally not be that big of a deal except that there is just too much going on right now.

Sara, Vince, Paul, and I go to SFMOMA where they are showing Matisse sculptures, but I get to see a sculpture by Degas that moves me a little more than art is supposed to move someone without a heart. We go to the SF International Poetry Festival Kick-off ceremony in Jack Kerouac Alley, where a guy tries to pick a fight with me because he's crazy, and I suffuse the situation without a big thing, and I am proud. Ruby and Casey and Gillian join us. Gino and Carlos for drinks.

We migrate to Specs where Jack Hirschman puts me in a headlock and sings drinking songs with me well after we should be there. I wear a gigantic smile for the rest of the night. I've been reading Hirschman for like ten years, and I love his work. We take a crazy cab home with Gillian spread across our legs in back and end up at the Grad where we drink more, but it doesn't matter because I am not sleeping tonight. I've got a poster to work on.

25 July: Work on the poster all morning without stopping to eat. Sara and I go to the Andrew Joron reading at Pegasus, my favorite bookstore in the world and one of the best places to get your poetic fix. Joshua Clover is there to prove that the iPhone is the coolest thing technology has given us. I am able to show Joshua the poster that I did for his Holloway reading in color via his iPhone. He'd never seen it in color. Joshua Clover is a favorite, by the way. David Larsen is there, but I don't tell him what my poster looks like in fear that he would laugh me out of the building. Andrew Joron is great.

Many of us go to Jupiter to finally eat. Haters show up, but I don't say anything mean, and I am proud of not starting a fight. We migrate to Ben and Nick's where Cassandra, Erika, and Lara Durback are hanging out. Lara gives me some of her poetry, she's on the New Yipes poster I'm doing. I like much of what she gives me, and I am proud that someone gave me their poetry.

26 July: It's deadline day, and we still don't have a name for the film person. We're freaking out. But it all gets done with only a few bumps that are always present with a crazy deadline, but that's OK because it looks good. David and I print the posters and spend the day eating Indian at my favorite Indian restaurant and drinking chai tea. We go to the Jenny Drai reading at Back Room Live. She's wonderful, and we go to Ben and Nick's. It was entirely cool discussing poetry and art with David Larsen all day and much of the night. In case you didn't know, I idolize him a little bit. I dance with three beautiful women who ask for my number. HA. I'll need to sleep eventually.

27 July: SHIT. I forgot to finish my poster for the Pegasus reading next week. I have to do that most of the day. Tao Lin and Stephanie Young are going to be at New Yipes / Pegasus. I get there a little early and meet Tao. Joshua Clover is there and asks me if I'll work on a poetic Tshirt project with him. Everyone I love in poetry seems to be there. It's a gigantic turn out. Clay Banes comes in like Santa Claus with a box of Tao Lin books. During the intermission, I get to discuss poetry and movies with Joshua Clover. Both readers are fantastic, and most of us end up at Luka's, where Tao and I really hit it off. Just a great, great night.

27 July: Tao calls me up and asks me if he can sleep at my place. NO PROBLEM. I have the most comfortable air mattress known to man. I have to see a property we're thinking about turning into a working gallery / workshop. I see nothing but promise and potential in it. I get to Moe's, where Tao is about to read, at precisely 7:30, just in time to hear Tao Lin say that he isn't going to start reading until his friend, Jack Morgan, is there. But I am there, so he starts and is fantastic.

And even though there were certain people seemingly hell-bent on killing the night, even a spectacular auto-collision in front of my flat, we had a good time because Tao Lin is one of the coolest people in the world

28 July: We ate Indian at my favorite restaurant.
Sara and I took him to the Airport, and he drew us pictures.
I went to sleep.

Sorry this took so long, but this is only the short version. I've been writing ever since, too, so that's nice. Being a poet right now is the only thing I'd like to be. I get to hang out with the coolest people in the world.