They say this place is haunted.
I watched the news story,
saw the blue-walled backdrop of my apartment
and the last tenant insistent
about otherworldly persistence.
The ghost is supposedly a child,
a little girl,
which seems logical—
if spectors and spooks
what’s more real
(If you don’t understand
then pat yourself on the back
and hug your mother
congratulations on Daddy loving you.)
I leave a lamp on at night
with two bulbs
(one white one blue)
but not because I’m scared
of spectors and spooks
but because I’m scared of
and my thoughts
in the isolating dark. Read the rest of this entry
Wormwood Wasn’t Here: The World Famous Doll Hut in Anaheim, California.
I recently reconnected with my old artistic partner-in-crime, Ted K, and we decided to get the band back together, so to speak. We have recorded the first new Snake Eater Trinity tracks since 2007, and I daresay they’re as brutal as anything we’ve ever done. We’re going to be booking shows soon, so stay tuned for that and a vinyl release.
FOR FANS OF: THRASH, ELECTRO, HARDCORE, PUNK, WORKPLACE VIOLENCE, VIGILANTE JUSTICE, ANGER, DANGER, ETC.
FILE UNDER: IRATE-CORE
Mark your calendars, boys and girls! Orange County’s Weirdest Son is once again teaming up with the best blues band around to bring you an exciting evening of entertainment and enlightenment! This is going to be an especially notable night, as it is Tall Can Tim’s last show on guitar with The Salt Shakers before he moves away to pursue big kid stuff. If you aren’t familiar with the six-stringed stylings of Tall Can Tim, let’s just say he’s an electric acrobat of the highest order. So bring your dancing shoes and your party hats, because this one could get out of hand…
Original handmade show flyer is also for sale. I will write a custom one-of-a-kind poem for you on the back and sign it. Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org if you’re interested. To hear music, click here.
I recently moved. During the process, I unearthed collections of poetry, satire, fairy tales, and a couple children’s books that I wrote from ages five to fifteen. I decided to start posting some of the stuff for documentation purposes and to perhaps illustrate that I may have peaked artistically around age ten. The first piece I present to you is The Little Dragon, which is basically a mini-Bildungsroman with flying lizards. Enjoy.
The moral of the story? Moving is a drag.
Death be not kind
but there can be kindness in Death.
A daily Eucharist for an ailing Catholic
and a recovering Protestant
(Almost grounds enough for a conversion.
But Cancer don’t check religious backgrounds
and that mass in your belly don’t care about five o’ clock Mass.
Is Lourdes open this time of year, I wonder?
Categorical miracles are, naturally, absurd
but an individual one?
In this case, I would take it
and I wouldn’t even bat an atheistic eye at it.
Who’s the sick and who’s the comforter here?
Sometimes it’s difficult to tell, Grandma.
More often than not I feel as if I’m
one disjointed thought away
from a straight jacket fitting
and you’re holding both of us together
with softly sanctimonious composure.
But you do grow weary sometimes
and swear you’ll pray to die soon
and I look at you with deadpan eyes
“Grandma, I tried that for decades and it didn’t work
but then again I’m not as devout as you.
Although you’re too good of a Catholic to phone in an
honest-to-purgatory suicide request.”
And we both laugh and fill your hummingbird feeder
because they need tending to just as much as we do. Read the rest of this entry
If you’re in the area this Saturday, come watch me fumble around on bass guitar for VAGUESS for the first time live in about seven years.