Thursday, June 21, 2012

Death Weather Press

A bighappybirthday to Katie Jean Shinkle, aka “Babyface.” This song is for you:
I need to give the pup a bath. This has been a bad asthma/allergy week. Screw you, pollen. It just makes me tired, like my limbs are growing into the ground. I’m turning into a root system. My dog’s napping vigorously at the foot of the bed after spending two hours in the park this afternoon (where I slept on a towel in the sun) and a morning at the reservoir yesterday. He chased some ducks, or rather a few ducks taunted him and he took the bait, splashing around in what looked like rather gross, cold water. Thus, the bath necessity.

Is everything felt?

Why do some trees sound like water?

How many postcards with hand drawn images of Gertrude Stein will EP send me & how shall I frame them all together?

Does anyone have extra headphones? I need headphones. They can be janky as long as they work.

I’m debating going to Leon (1112 E 17th Ave) on Friday for the Plume Giant show (8pm). I’ve only been there for poetry readings, so I’m intrigued by what the music set up is. And on Saturday, I want to go see Boom Chick.

Um, also next Tuesday there is a metal show at Blast-O-Mat with Bone Dance, Iron Horse, and Vomit Slaughter. Kinda want to go, yo.


So this happened today, in 1 Act Play form:

[Jules walks down the street with D’Count, in her own world. Crazyman interrupts]
Crazyman: Are you going to finish that ice-cream?
Jules: Um?
Crazyman: I’m going to stay on this boat.
Julia: Okay.

I think I was thrown because I was not eating ice-cream nor was the man on a boat.

Tomorrow I’m rising early and heading to DU to work on the Denver Quarterly. And I will retrieve my bike with it’s stolen wheel. As MS said, “Fucking thieves.”

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