“What words say does not last.  The words last.  Because words are always the same, and what they say is never the same. ” -Antonio Porchia, Voces, 1943



“We should have a great fewer disputes in the world if words were taken for what they are, the signs of our ideas only, and not for things themselves.”  -John Locke


“But if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought.”  -George Orwell


1. Eating orange peels is good for me.

2. Apple cores don’t exist.

3. Diet Sunkist is ahead of it’s time.


came home after a moving cello performance and an evening among friends and had left the phone home and saw the missed calls and started to bite into an apple and bit through to a perfectly round, perfectly rotten dark brown center. so rotten that when i tilted the apple the rot fell off onto the floor splattering and thought disease decompisition death and heard my sister’s voice pick up the phone and give me the news and i sat and i thought and felt like the axis were turning towards signposts that nothing beautiful is certain nothing really worth anything can be owned and adapt to change so the strain doesn’t that dream i had with my veins and that sneer and smirk just to see what would happen to me and who was that that would undermine my will like the just to see that state in me so stand back and reflect a byte before i bite into an apple again

Is this real life?


Picture it: Red Old Spice Deodorant Stick (that’s right, I wear it like I have a pair to back it up). I pick it up and look at it from a few angles, open the cap, take a whiff, close it back up, note the texture of the twister component on the bottom, then begin reading the words on the back of the Old Spice Deodorant label (and I quote):

Old Spice High Endurance Deodorant




If you can believe it, it only gets better..


(1) Twist up product (don’t carve it out with a butter knife. check)

(2) Apply to underarms only. (somebody wrote these directions up: ‘Apply to underarms,’ paused, then made the call to add ‘only’)

(3) Use daily for best results.


In all fairness to Old Spice, if they really are intending to market to a demographic that believes in ‘scent monsters’ and ‘scent elves’, then the ‘this is how we breathe’ directions aren’t without merit. But wait, stare at an Old Spice deodorant stick for a minute longer, and tell them what they’ll win:


(1) Dypropylene Glycol

(2)Propylene Glycol (this is dypropylene glycol’s sworn nemesis)

(3) Sodium Stearate

(4) Fragrance (this is an ingredient?)

(5) PPG-3 Myristyl Ether (this does not sound like the name of a toxic-chemical-bastard-spawn-child of an evil scientist. again, that’s an example of what the name of this ingredient doesn’t sound like)

(6) Tetrasodium EDTA (duh. don’t leave home without it)

(7) Violet 2

(8) Green 6 (that’s right baby, someone finally got the good sense to patent the color wheel)


and last but not least, the kicker..





                          i am lost in lines     i was kept  in line
i was bred instead                      inside
           those twist my arm episodes
           why don't you break my arm episodes
           you observed me
in all my bright bulb inadequacy 

your specialty

my fear


‘Death is the great analyst that shows the connexions by unfolding them, and bursts open the wonders of genesis in the rigour of decomposition: and the word decomposition must be allowed to stagger  under the weight of its meaning. Analysis, the philosophy of elements and their laws, meets its death in what it had vainly sought in mathematics, chemistry, and even language: an unsupersedable model, prescribed by nature; it is on this great example that the medical gaze will now rest. It is no longer that of a living eye, but the gaze of an eye that has seen death- a great white eye that unties the knot of life.’

-Michael Foucault: Death of the Clinic (page 144)

-Michael Foucault:  The Birth of the Clinic (page 115)


slip ups, my boy!
just a series of intentional slip ups.
she won't be apologizing for.
you wanted to. you want it too. fair to tell you:
there's this song and dance number she does.
at the beginning of her paintings.
and she invites all the muses to.
you'll really want to be there.


i had a dream i had a nightmare that all my arguments you found most agreeable in all alright that it was all wrong while we threw our heads back and spewed our brains out all about the brand of confusion we brought to bare there i stop to start to remember to doubt where i came from where i am and where i am going i will get quiet and still and calm and you will find me thoughtfully nodding along but i do my best for our sake not to sound too familiar or safe or certain because i am none of those things that is not my thing those are not what i bring to the stable fable to the tall tale table that we are so sure is right there in front of us

In all of this, a seamless account of anomaly. What is more, the creeping suspicion that none of it was ever real–coupled with a crazy eye, not quite willing to adjust–accordingly. That hasn’t changed–the age is measured in passive charm offset by the willingness to betray every convention in turn. Lovely, a generation of warriors and revolutionaries–and they are all painted up in doves.


six years ago today
the story was so entirely different
quietly going to school in one world
quickly coming home to another world
quickly worlds change
past lives  and
filtered files  of
fear and insecurity of
guilt and shame
all those frames of reference
even the scar
fading from my phase
purpose now
politics of free will and social responsibility
if they saw us then
I wish you could see me now



‘Come on skinny love, just last the year-

so pour a little salt, we were never here.’

-Bon Iver Lyrics


I think today will be a significant day to me one day, so I'm making a note of it now.