Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Disease Daycare Press

I was walking to the park & I passed a little boy holding a bag of Gold Fish and he said to the little girl that was sitting in the grass, "we can bury your scar." I swear to the heavens that is exactly what he said. The little girl looked happy about it, like they had a plan. But I kept walking & didn't catch the rest of the conversation.

***

Sometimes when I am biking I think about what weird objects I'm biking over. I usually bike the same path to DU so I like to pay attention to how the objects shift depending on the week, season etc. One week, I mostly biked over plastic spoons. I think workmen had been eating lunch in the back of their trucks. One week I biked over so many baby toys, like pacifiers and teething rings. What do you bike over?

Sometimes when I bike by myself I ask myself questions:

What song is good?

Do I know the exact definition of sidereal (of or with respect to the distant stars)? Why can't I ever pronounce this word correctly? Isn't it nice how Ed Dorn uses the phrase 'outsidereal"?

How many ways can the same thing be sustained? When should it not be sustained at all?

Why do I like names that end in o? Like Otto and Bruno and eskimo?

***

I had fake meatballs and real pasta last night for dinner. When I was cooking the faux meatballs, they really smelled like meat. I felt like I was cooking something that shouldn't be cooked in my house. But then M and I ate them and they were delicious.

***

There are a lot of books and chapbooks that have just released. I will tell you about them tomorrow. Right now I need to take a shower and get to campus.

1 comment:

Craig said...

Sideria

The kids for the most part stay inside of their suburban homes. They raid the supermarkets and survive on canned and boxed foods. Also, an endless supply of sodas. Eventually the kids start to formulate ways of helping each other get along. Every kid in the neighborhood has an assigned task on a specific day. Even the youngest kids begin to contribute. As they get older they begin to fall in love. They begin to steal into each others bedrooms and make impossible journeys to space, orbiting planets and diving under unknown seas. Only occasionally do they come up for air. Their houses all look the same and inevitably some of the kids will move from one house to another. They can't remember who used to live where. They all live everywhere now. The pictures of the adults on the walls are meant to represent something, but they can't remember what. One of the girls presses her fingers against the glass and says, “I remember you.” The decade comes and goes. Every day is vacation. When it rains they close the windows and listen to the leaves as they lightly brush up against the glass in the early evening breeze.