:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

GOD IS A TEENAGE BOY HUFFING AEROSOL CANS IN A PARKING LOT SOMEWHERE.

MUST-ACHE

1. My father is a man with a scar on his forehead and a tattoo on his hand. He is a man with a mustache that drapes over my shoulders and down my back. My father is a man who is a man who is a ghost.

2. When I wake up my hair is wet and rain is blowing in through the window. I take all of my clothes off and build a small fire in my room, then I set my wet clothes on the burning tipi. I stay up all night planting a grove of vines near the door.

3. I take a walk with my father's ghost. We go to the park and feed the ducks. I get crumbs in his mustache and he wipes them off my shoulder. Thanks, I say.

4. I dream of Mountain standing in the middle of a great prairie. I watch black smoke curl around Mountain's summit. I decide to give the mountain a name. I name it Mountain.

5. The apartment is dark and cold. There is no light or heat. Ivy covers most of the windows and doors. I lay on the floor staring at my ceiling until vines overtake it.

6. My father's ghost knits his mustache into mine and we walk through the woods holding hands. I try to tell him about my dream but he isn't paying attention. He is busy shaking bird nests out of branches and collecting them in our mustache.

7. I find a washed out picture of my father where his eyes are small dark clouds. When I put the picture up to my ear I hear thunder. My father's ghost tells me that it's only the ocean. I clear some ivy and put his picture on the wall.

8. My father's ghost drops me off at my apartment. He tells me that I feel lonely again I can walk to the library, or read a book. Maybe finish proofreading that letter for him. I say okay and then go inside.

9. I attempt to grow a mustache of my own. A small ingrown hair occurs. When I pop it blood, pus, and mud come out. I experience a great deal of pain. I decide to give my mustache a name. I name it Must-Ache.

10. One afternoon I come home and my father's picture is missing. The wall behind the picture is bloody and pale like the skin under a band-aid. A small flower blooms from the center of the wound.

11. My father's ghost stops coming around. I find tiny mustache hairs in the sink. I open a window and burn incense and herbs to lure him back. I fall asleep with the smoke pouring out ribbons and strings.

12. I sit out in the balcony in my sleeping bag and smoke marijuana. I become a piece of paper blowing in the wind. A gust of wind swings me over the guardrail and I watch myself swoop in pendulums down to the street.

13. I fasten tiny scrolls onto pigeons with small lengths of vine. I watch them fly out over my town. The message I send is: I HAVE A BETTER MUSTACHE NOW. CAN YOU COME HOME PLEASE?

14. At my mother's tree house, she tells me I look like a picture. I always wear the same jacket. I tell her it's because I want to look like my father. I tell her it's because I want to look like a ghost.

15. That night I burn more sage and watch the embers drift up over the trees. I watch them until they begin to look like small and dying stars.

16. There is a thing that when I touch it, the thing becomes something else. Something that feels like I don't think or maybe I don't want. When I say it, the thing comes out like I don't know.

17. I decide to stop looking for my father's ghost. I do not understand. It all seems a shroud. A veil of bones. I feel like the time we tried to make bread and our yeast did not rise. I feel like a small and dense thing.

18. I separate the hairs of my mustache and examine my ingrown hair in the mirror. I notice a small flower blooming from the wound. I fold the skin over and tear it off.

29. I dream a succession of polaroids each showing Mountain as it falls to the ground. I watch Mountain's face crack, then split, then crumble. When I reach the last frame the picture turns to blood and falls through my hands.

POLYGON

1. //\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

2. I make a home for myself beneath the branches. I watch a man hanging from them by his hair.

3. >>>>>>>>>>>>

4. In the grass, there is a snake. I can see it's copper head in the sun.

5. ############

6. We knit a matrix of tracks through her hair, then lie beneath them and watch trains barrel over our heads.

FENCES

FENCES by ben brooks is a very beautiful and small book.

a few months ago he traded katie for a copy of Vega.

ben brooks is 17 years old.

there are some interesting interviews here and here.

now i am going to plant my feet into a soiled pot and stand in a public area and stand very still.

H8 MALE

these events stemmed from this april posting on this blog.

I"m just curious why it is you've chosen to publicly label me an
"asshole". Also, I don't recall granting you permission to publicly
post my intellectual property....I suggest you stop being such an
asshole yourself before you get yourself sued for libel. I mean, do I
even know you?

Respectfully,
-Josh

hello i found a booklet of children's stories in a thrift store and chose your story. i actually liked it very much and thought it was funny. i like raccoons too! i don't know anything about you, just the name. it was random. i don't think you can sue me but i'm okay with fixing the blog post. sorry for the inconvenience. take it easy.

-israel

Mr. Cilio

While I'm still a little (admittedly morbidly) curious about how you came to have "good authority" on anything that happened back then... I guess it's neither here nor there. Technically, it's not the fact that I was called an asshole, but there is a defamation of character issue that arises when we are both in America (you live in Nebraska) and you accuse me of being a "bully" and, for that matter, a plagiarist
(through using my mother's words- technically, she could make the same claims I'm making now- though, yes...I did write the piece...including the part about the soft white snow). You are correct- a libel claim would probably be tenuous....but still possible. It's really just best to avoid such matters. No worries mate, it's not a huge deal. I'm happy with you fixing the blog post...you can even keep the poem in
it. I suppose, were it not for the accompanying editor's note, I'd have simply been flattered.

Thanks for trying to resolve this in a reasonable manner...think nothing of it.

-Josh

then i shortened his name to "josh c"

I see how cleverly you "fixed" the blog post. Well, you may want to look into your html encoding, because you left my last name on there so long that any search engine could find the direct reference. Beyond that, I'm legally blind and have albinism...it's in rather poor taste for you to use expressions such as "the kid probably didn't even have a right arm." Look- either fix this as you said you would, be that either removing that post entirely, my poem and comment, or whatever you like or I will contact the system administrator of your blog with my concerns within the next twenty-four hours. I'm sure you're aware that the terms and conditions of almost all blog sites will not allow this sort of content if it is disputed. You seem like you've put a lot of work into that blog...would you really think it worth it all to be lost simply to call a guy you don't know an asshole and to personally take an ethically repugnant position yourself?

Just a thought,
-Josh

dear josh

i don't understand why we can't 'capitalize' on the things we have in common, i.e. our interest for raccoons, soft white snow, etc. i feel our relationship would be a lot stronger then. instead we have spiraled into threats and unpleasantries. i had no idea you were blind or albino. i don't know you. i think you should try to 'take it easy'. it's no fun trying to be a 'victim'. it seems to me the only thing more absurd and outrageous than calling an anonymous 7-year old first-grader from nebraska an 'asshole' is an anonymous 20-something year old 'asshole' being offended by it. i'm sorry you don't like my blog.


xoxo
-israel

INJURIES I HAVE SUSTAINED

1. Oct. 12 2009 -- biking to work and took a slippery corner too fast, slid for about 3 feet.,road rash on my hip and forearm

2. Sept. 16 2009 -- lost in the forest and spotted three white-tailed deer. re-injured my ankle chasing after them.

3. July 9 2009 -- sprained and strained my ankle after running down a mountain naked in the dark and falling over a rail

4. March 14 2009 -- biking on 8th near downtown crossed the track and too diagonally, slid under a truck on my knee, tore favorite jeans

5. January 9 2009 -- slipped on the ice during terrible ice storm (Ice Storm '09), limped home making funny sounds with my throat like a squeaky chair

THE DELICIOUS