Sunday, January 20, 2008

Another Saturday Cosmos, Fernets and bars I can't tell you about - sugar cafe, truck and mangerie parites, saddled with being the passive aggressive ringleader of a multi tiered circus. All of us our actors strolling by, practicing our lines. Leaving heavy references to light withdrawls. Tears for fears kind of 80's malaise. not worrying about the reason, just giving, and giving. Carictures of Eric pouring mustard on a baby seal being discussed amongst fag hags and east coast convulsions. Trying to reach the verge of forever. Wondering about hair, sourdough bread and sea shells. Fake tans, 24 hour fitness and even worse poetry. Forgetting Burroughs, wishing for Hemmingway and settling. Sloppy soma type lifestyle. The 505 blurring into the 415 in a weird Martinez tinged hazy daisy daze. Calling it abstract because we couldn't do better. Performance art. Mucho periods in a sea of grammatical errors. Envisioning poems about Van Ness. About the crack heads, lips white in froth, eyes toward heaven gazing for release that will never quite come, empty toothless smiles mouthing sorry. Grasping at and grabbing nothing - resolved in mediocrity. Reaching, straining, tongue out to the world, eyes squinting and still touching nothing. Even Evangelicals get the blues. Who would want to remember our names? Unicorns are shitting rainbows as peking ducks scavenge the bay for one last card game. Gods not in San Francisco this time of year.