The art of the hoax

Is Andy Kaufman alive?

So long as the mere idea of Andy Kaufman is alive, the world is a more magical place.

Memorandum

The real world is no place for a writer to thrive.

this is not a suicide note, by the way.

Seven and One

I haven’t read nearly enough books.

Since the summer I’ve amassed this whole pile of “shit i should have read by now” but all I’ve managed to scrape off the top so far are Brave New World, 1984, and A Clockwork Orange, and I finished each of those by the end of september. I’m right now trying to read Cat’s Cradle by Vonnegut, but it’s been relegated to that humbled position of “bathroom reading” that must be making Kurt spin in his grave.

Indictment in Villanelle

Through all windows, I see only infinity.
You’re wrong, you know; raise yourself and the curtain
At least believe in a tangible divinity.

Isn’t it easy to see pessimistically?
Despite your best effort, I can say for certain
Through all windows, I see only infinity.

I don’t care about One, let alone a Trinity
I admit I do like trying to pervert an
Ideal such as intangible divinity.

These zealots will bury you neck deep in it, see,
Then they’ll tear you apart and leave you deserted.
Through all windows, you’ll see a lonely infinity.

So let’s escape; we can hide safely in a tree
Should it really be so wrong or absurd if
We placed ourselves on a mantel of divinity?

We’ll never worry about our ’sins’ in our tree
Rest now; I promise to never see you hurting
I believe in a tangible divinity
Because through all windows I see only you, infinitely.

4th Movement of the Odyssey

“I’d like to know,” he began,
turning the defrost up to an audible 3,
“just what is so endearing about melancholy
that compels me to desire it stick around for so long?”
Silence followed, save the white noise of the heater.
The snow in the headlights reminded him of stars,
flying past some interstellar spacecraft.
The road crunched and slipped under the buick
and only then would he wonder how old these tires are.
He turned to look at the passenger seat
as clarity slowly crept up the windshield.
He waited for her to say something cute,
something with her effortless profundity
that he made sure she thought he hated.
and if she were there, she might have.

Freeway Cars and Trucks

It would figure that the first thing i post in 2009 isn’t even written by me.

But it is an article written about a Tom Waits album.

As you read, ask yourself: does this remind you of someone you know?

i would say names were changed to protect the innocent,

but you and i both know theres no such thing.

Written Last March

Once the snow’s melted
I like to walk on the grass
as much as I can.
The way the ground feels
soft again, cushioning footsteps
like walking on layer cake
is such a hopelessly optimistic feeling.
The grass is still wet and weighed down
by phantom snow,

I almost wish
I was still pining for you.
Writing, at the very least,
would be easier.

Hm.

It recently occurred to me that almost everyone i know under the age of 34 has a Facebook account. This didn’t strike me as that outrageous, but what did was that I recently started receiving friend requests from relatives who are in their 40’s and 50’s. It felt like having a party in your basement back in high school, and one of your uncles showed up and tried hanging out with you and your friends. The party that had been my life on the web had been crashed, or so it felt. What rose up in me was this feeling of nationalistic pride for the in-society that we, the internet generation, seemed to have developed, and a desire to keep it “pure,” in a sense.

I’m almost positive this is how racism started.

2nd Movement of the Odyssey

So she pulled open the curtains, thrusting morning in his face
He closed his eyes harder, clearly at odds with the world
over what time it was.
“See? You’re wrong,” she said, contemplating this new day.
With a voice like gravel, he grumbled out his reply,
“Why? What do you see?”
There was silence as she considered this.
He could tell she was really thinking about her answer,
a weighing of options he thought too heady for this hour.
“Infinity,” she finally said. There was almost giddiness in her voice.
“Through all windows, I see only infinity.”
He merely grunted, and pulled the blankets over his face
But only so she wouldn’t see him smile.

The Answer

It’s a fool’s errand,
these silly love songs.
they’re only gonna leave you.
i want to tell you it’s all gonna break
that regrets, they weren’t there
But they stood, statues; invincible.
Angels stacked crooked, the ruins of my life.

in desolate times, don’t panic
Just keep the car running
Head for Munich
It was nice to know you.