things i own

[chad vangaalen - 'willow tree']






[LAKE - 'on the swing']



[billy bragg - 'ingrid bergman']

other things/things i own: recording 'studio'

this is a picture of what it looks like when i record music.

however, i don't usually use this particular setup. it is more interesting here than usual. this picture was taken when i was recording my wildly imaginative and irreverent record Fwends EP under the moniker GAZEBO. the album is terribly mixed, which is something i think makes it 'lovable'.

i will now explain to you what i own in this picture (from left to right):

white fisher-price electronic keyboard/real sounds piano (# 3810): i found this keyboard at a goodwill store in lincoln, nebraska. i think it cost me $3.99 but actually i know it did because the price sticker is still on it. it says $3.99. this keyboard has record and playback buttons and a 'correct' button that makes editing mistakes 'a snap'.

sanyo m9903k stereo radio cassette: i also found this baby at the goodwill store. i think it cost me $4.oo. it has a built in microphone (of low quality) and a quarter-inch plug which is how i was able to transfer tape recordings onto my computer. i sometimes listen to npr on it. i wish i liked coffee and was grumpy a lot. this way i could drink coffee, be grumpy, and listen to talk radio on it. i would be then be my friend zach schroeder (see 'song 4 oliver').

radioShack MD-981 keyboard: the maker of all beats. this keyboard has over 80 rhythms and beats, 80 songs, and 99 tones. there are so many fun things on this keyboard. i bought this keyboard from my father's church for $20.

mac powerbook g4 with garageband: i got this laptop for free by going to a no-name, understaffed, under-facilitated, terrifically academically impoverished university which shall go unnamed. they were giving away laptops like the kid at school who bought toys just so kids could come over to play with him after schoo. they were doing some kind of promotion to attract more students. you had to get a 3.3 in a semester and come back from two consecutive ones. needless to say, i got it and left. in any case, garageband is the recording program i use even though it is elementary and i feel cramped using it, i have become very comfortable with it. i have thought about downloading pro tools but i don't want to feel helpless and stupid and overwhelmed by it.

there you have it. i spent $28 dollars for everything. add cables and input adapters: maybe $30. you too can also make your own record with terrible mixing quality and obscene lyrics for $30. there is very little to it. it does not have to be 'good'. no one has to like it. you can make an ass of yourself and give it to someone as a present. there is nothing stopping you.

*****

blake butler's post on crispin glover's film what is it? a few weeks ago really piqued my interest in glover. in googling and searching i found this clip from willard. i can't explain it but i really want to cry every time i see crispin glover and his rodent friend being hoisted into the air away from each other. i feel similary when glover speak-sings: 'i used to say/i and me/now it's us/now it's we.'

****

i like this by will ratblood. i also like eyeshot.net. i think everyone should submit there. they accept only flash fiction and short stories. i think maybe that is good. to me poetry is mostly ejaculatory. i get tired of that. i am speaking to myself mostly.

i also think it is a good idea to let each other know of places where we can publish. i feel like the things i write are 13-year old awkward tweens shuffling around in their jnco jeans and jc penney-type clothing. does anyone know a good after-school newsletter i can submit to? i would be willing to insert clip art into the margins from the clip art file if i could just insert a haiku.

***

today i re-read the opening lines of ginsberg's HOWL and felt something very different. to be honest i never quite 'got' ginsberg. or much poetry for that. i still don't. it feels good being let in on everyone's secret (not that ginsberg is a secret) but it feels good honestly feeling the way that a lot of people feel. maybe one day i will even start to like radio head. i feel like i am 'maturing'. after reading it, i said 'holy shit....':

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked

dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz ...

holy shit....

things i own: tenderheart bear

this is a picture of a care bear that i took when i was completely alone in an abandoned train station in fort morgan, colorado. when i took this picture there was a heavy sand storm outside and the metallic sign that read FORT MORGAN had lost two bolts so it would slap against the building for the wind and make the scariest sound and i just felt like crying.

i have found out that this care bear's name is tenderheart bear.

wikipedia says that "tenderheart bear helps everyone show and express their feelings and helps his fellow Care Bears be the most caring they can be."

when i got tenderheart bear, i was in denver. i was at a bar with my friend chrissy. the night began as such. the bartender approached us with four double shot glasses and poured us a mixed drink with 4 different kinds of vodka. chrissy and i were sitting at a table alone talking. the bar was mostly empty. there was one very annoying women who had too much to fit into her jeans. she and her boyfriend fucked in the bathroom and when i went to use it afterward, the sink was hanging from the wall.

we were getting very drunk and it was very fun. we went to sit at the bar. the bartender told us about everything. his seven-year old daughter, his stolen record collection, and the birthday party he had a few weeks ago where his girlfriend took pictures of everyone pushing their nose up like piggies and you could see the cocaine in everyone's nose hairs. i told him about how i had hitched from lincoln to denver and how i had met chrissy last summer passing through denver on tour. we were just delightfully happy to know him and it felt reciprocated and there was love between us.

the bartender and me and chrissy became very close and he kept bringing us beer and liquor. we laughed at everything and he kept kissing chrissy. i was very happy to know him. he smiled at me often. he took my hand and said that he wanted me to have something. and he turned around and gave me the care bear and said that i would keep me safe in my travels.

i went outside to use the telephone. i called many people and told them that i loved them. i called one friend and told her that she was a tile on the floor i was looking at and that i would keep it in my pocket forever. i lost the tile that night and i laughed. then i saw the bartender outside. he was on the phone. then he started crying. he sat down with me and we were both drunk and he was crying and i held him and he said that a friend of his had just gotten into a bicycle accident and that her brain was swelling too big for her head and that she might die. i was very sad and i didn't know what to say. i told him about my friend devin who had died in a bicycle accident. i tried to empathize. we went inside and he kept working. i felt very sad for him. i thought about devin. when he brought us our bill, it was only $8 and he wouldn't accept a tip.

when the night ended chrissy and i stumbled back to her apartment and i threw up a lot in the toilet. because of the altitude in denver, someone unaccustomed to it will become sicker faster with alcohol.

a few days later i was trying to hitch back to lincoln. there was no success. i was trapped in a gas station 20 miles out of denver and i was thinking i would never get back. i spent 8 hours outside at various gas stations and truck stops within various distance from each other. i got kicked off the property and i went under a bridge to cry. i saw trout fish swimming upstream and they were sad to me. i cried even harder and felt the weakest ever, ever. a friend's dad picked me up and took me to fort morgan which was three hours out of his way round trip. in fort morgan i had a beer and cried over my asian food. it felt so good to have somewhere to belong.

at night in the train station i was very lonely and by myself at the station. there were these customer log books and people were saying that the train had been late for more than 6 hours once. i did not want wait for 6 hours. i began to sing to myself in the echoey room and i took out the carebear and looked at it and tried to think of the bartender and his goodness. i thought about chrissy who i loved and i thought about denver and i sang some songs and felt better. when i rolled into lincoln the next morning the clouds were pink and i felt beautiful.