kiss me, i'm jesus

Haiku for December 25, 2013

"Happy holidays."
Everybody celebrates
Something today, right?

Also, this.

Creeping Charlie FTW

I got nothing new,
But let me just direct you
To this comment.

<3

Gratitude-Free Zone

I don't celebrate Thanksgiving, just like I don't celebrate Columbus Day. The story of the first Thanksgiving I was taught in school is a lie, the kind of lie that my Jewish friends were taught in Hebrew school as kids. A lie that is told to cover up genocide and land theft and erase the histories of entire peoples.

I am not thankful for this:

Or this:

I'm real happy that a lot of you have decided to take this day (or even this entire month) to remember to practice gratitude, and I like gratitude and think it's important.

But I just felt the need to carve out a little corner of the internet today in which to say, "No, thank you." Today is a day of mourning all those murders, rapes, mutilations, all that enslavement and lying and theft that happened and continues to happen in North America and Palestine and all over the world.

Also gonna mourn my grandma, who left this life on Thanksgiving a few years ago. She had a big mouth and an attitude and was one of my favorite people ever. Love you, Gram.

Are You Still Here?

Haiku for Redirecting You to a More Important Blog

Looking for new posts?
Just go here, read all of this,
Come back when you're done.

A Public Service Announcement (Disguised as a Clip Show)

I looked at the Times Haiku Blog recently (thanks to reader "amplituhedron") and thought, "But those aren't even haiku. They're just sentences with 17 syllables." I looked at it some more and thought, "But they look a lot like mine, don't they?"

So it seems like the responsible thing to do, as the proprietor of an internet website with literally tens of readers, to shed a little light on what a haiku actually is. I realize not all of us were able to attend a crappy state school where other cultures' art forms were watered down and spoon-fed, so I'll fill you in on some things I learned.

7 Things About Haiku That This Blog Gets Wrong

1. Language. Traditional haiku are in Japanese, while I write exclusively in English. A subtle distinction, lending itself to number 2 below.
2. Syllables. Japanese haiku count syllables differently. 17 Japanese haiku syllables are roughly equivalent to 12 in English.
3. Line breaks. Japanese haiku are usually printed in one line, not three.
4. Juxtaposition. Haiku are supposed to use a "cut" word, or equivalent punctuation, to set off two parallel or contrasting ideas or images.
5. Self-sufficiency. Haiku are meant to stand alone, not follow an anecdotal setup characterized by too many first-person pronouns.
6. Nature. I do it sometimes (mostly in autumn, it seems). More often, though, I write about stuff like zombies, brunch, noise music, and cassette tapes.
7. Seasons. You could also argue that some of my haiku qualify as seasonal. However, traditional haiku usually contain one of a prescribed list of words used to suggest a season.

Got any more? Leave em in the comments!

Till a' the seas gang dry

I am so in love with this plant right now.

O my Luve's like a Schlumbergera.

I bought it at the grocery store for, I don't know, a dollar, last winter. I was living in a friend's attic, waiting to learn the fate of my 10-year relationship. (Negatory on the outcome, for those keeping score at home.)

It has moved with me twice. I haven't re-potted it. I have watered it sporadically and apologetically. The wind knocked it over a bunch before I weighed it down with a mug. I've never seen it flower before.

And this month it has begun to bloom its little heart out.

Haiku for My Heartbreak and Resiliency

My life is just like

[Insert clever simile

About this cactus].

36 Chambers of Woo

Probably, the less said about this, the better.

Haiku for My Nonexistent Infection

Um, I'm pissing blood?
"Try some homeopathy."*
I. Am. Pissing. Blood.**

Oh, Vermont medical care.

*This line could have also read, "Maybe it's your period" or "Bet it's the testosterone."
**The bleeding has stopped, so please do not be (as) alarmed.

The sincerest form of flattery

So last Thursday night a dear friend shows up to the Halloween show looking pretty damn stylish. Plaid shirt, argyle sweater vest, bow tie, black cap. I'm not about to ask, "What are you dressed as?" because I want to figure it out. I do almost say, "Hey man, you look extra fly tonight," but I'm shy sometimes.

A short while later, this friend wordlessly hands me a slip of paper that reads:

My jaw crashes through the floor and into the basement.

I then have several more costume details pointed out to me, like a plaid fanny pack, the patchy "future haircut" I got a couple months ago, and my wrist tattoos, which my friend has duplicated expertly with a sharpie.

Also, eight more little slips of paper with a haiku on each.

I was really touched, and I maybe it's because I'm self-obsessed and vain. And maybe it's because I felt loved, and seen, and appreciated. If I have done anything to deserve such honor and beauty in my life, I hope I keep on doing it.

Up all night to get lucky

Haiku for October 31, 2013

Seven years' bad luck
Unless it's Halloween night
Then all bets are off

I love rock-n-roll. And Halloween.

See my previous post wherein I bemoan the struggles we underwent in coming up with the Ultimate Cover Band for Halloween. See below for how entirely we nailed it. 

If you're in my town tonight, I fully expect to see you at the show.

Haiku for My Halloween Cover Band

Do you wanna touch?

Do you wanna touch me there?

Yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.

(Not pictured: my band mate, also Joan Jett.)

It's not right, but it's OK.

Haiku for Deciphering a Dating Site
(with R.)

What is a quiver?
Is that a euphemism?
Where your arrows are?

Homo in Noho, or, On Second Thought, Let's Not Do the Time Warp Again

Despite protests that it is a horrible place and wry laughter in response to my invitations to join me, I went to a certain gay bar in a certain New England college town last night for a Halloween party. There were no fewer than three unicorns, two Catwomen, six Power Puff Girls, and two Rockys from RHPS.

My favorite costume was Carrie White as interpreted by a cute guy wearing just a pair of trunks, a tiara, a corsage, and head-to-toe fake blood. He was accompanied by a woman dressed in black carrying a Bible and a knife. They didn't win anything. Pfff.

The cop who pulled me over on my way home for having a tail light out sounded incredulous that I would drive 45 minutes each way to attend such an event. I wanted to tell him, "I'm from the Midwest. I've gone farther for much less."

Haiku for a Small-Town Gay Bar

Flannel shirts and beards
Back it up and drop it down
Massachusetts queers

Hitch yer wagon to a dyin' star

Haiku for Freezing Temperatures in This Week's Forecast

Only trouble is,
When your soul's like autumn leaves,
Be prepared to die.

Oh, the humanity.

We interrupt this haiku blog...

It's been so long since I've written a poem that is not a half-assed haiku that I thought I'd share it here. Don't worry, it's mostly about the neuropathological effects of psychiatric medications, and only a little bit about fall leaves.

My brain shudders.
It is autumn, and the colors
Tap into receptors, unstrung,
Frayed, heads waving like snakes
Held by their tails.
Eyes shift, zap, the briefest
Static snap between film frames
(where the ghosts live). 

Falling on my head like a new emotion

Because it seems I can't stop thinking and writing about how mind-blowingly sexy and tender autumn is:

Haiku for October 16, 2013

Sleeping in the breeze
Last night the leaves fell so hard
I thought it was rain

Requisite Anti-Columbus Post

I appreciate that the people in my life mostly have kickass politics and that my Facebook feed the last few days has been full of statuses correcting the misinformation we were taught in school, particularly repeated postings of The Oatmeal's comic drawing on Howard Zinn's scholarship.

I also appreciate that Imani shared the photo below, taken outside Walter's in Fort Green, lest I feel too satisfied with myself and my friends and forget to be angry about gentrification and displacement and disenfranchisement currently happening in Brooklyn and all over occupied America.

Post by Imani Henry.

[Update: As I was writing this post, Imani got word that the restaurant owners issued a formal apology for the sign. Probably in part because his friends saw his photo and started making noise.]

Haiku for the Legacy of Genocide

2013
And still telling lies about
1492.

O My Sharp, Trifoliate Heart

Sure, I could have arranged the following lines into a more traditional haiku, but this is the way the phrase sprung, fully formed, into my head yesterday as I walked past this tree, on my block, under foggy, gray skies. Only later did I realize it was 17 syllables long.

I never claimed to be a purist.

Haiku for October 7, 2013

F*cking neon pink-
orange maple tree, you are
what my soul looks like!

Fig. 1

Fig. 2

Vampire Practice*

Tribute bands are one of my favorite things in this world. I was in one, once, as a long-term project. Get me drunk, and I'll tell you about it.

I also love a good cover (and a good cover music radio show).

So why is it so difficult to come up with the ultimate cover band for the Future Collective Halloween Cover Band Show?

Well, I could explain why, but instead I'll just leave you with this haiku and this classic music video from 1979.

Haiku Cover

The times are tough now
Come on in and cover me
Just getting tougher

*The other night, when I told my roommate and her friend I was having "band practice" at the house later, they both heard "vampires" instead. Seems about right.

meet you at the swing set

does anyone out there know how dating works? 'cause i sure the hell don't.

doesn't stop me, though.

haiku for cupid (ok?)

wrote this guy a note:
"do you like me? yes or no?"
i've got schoolboy moves.

you spin me right 'round.

Its structural perfection is matched only by its hostility.

Almost a couple weeks ago, someone gave me (as in, "Hey what's this thing I just picked up off the ground? Here ya go!") a green, spiky orb on a short, thick stem. It was sharp enough to cause a delightfully tingly-ouchie sensation when I held it in my hand (after I had twirled the thing til the stem fell off).

I left this magical alien plant life on the dash of my car (like ya do), and over the course of several days, it dried and split open, revealing a shiny, dark brown nutshell with a light brown spot.

And it seems like a theme of this blog, and of my life (I guess there's some overlap there): transformation, a very solid, beautiful thing hidden inside a bizarre, prickly thing, which is also beautiful and thrilling. And sure, I could have researched any and discovered that it was a (SPOILER ALERT!) horse chestnut, but why take away the mystery?

Haiku for What the Last Two Weeks Gave Me

Do I like it more
When it's new, strange, and pointy
Or smooth, dark, and hard?

DEEZ NUTZ LOL

You had me at "subsolar equinoctial point."

Haiku for Autumn Equinox

Shadows get longer,
The moon starts to speak to me.
Fall is my lover.

www.themoonclock.com

Knitty Gritty

Haiku for My WIPs

We are a rare breed,
But me and the boys prove it:
Guys who knit are hot.

All in a day's werk.

Yesterday I was running a booth for Homo Promo at Future Fest. My job was to get carnival attendees to write suggestions for a monthly "random act of queerness." To further this aim, I decided I would need an outrageous outfit. (Slash I will take any opportunity to wear suspenders with no pants.)

So I was checking out my costume in my roommate's full-length mirror when my landlord knocked on the door. I bolted upstairs and grabbed my bathrobe, then came running back down to let him in. He was there to fix a door that was backward on its hinges or some shit.

While he was doing that, I went back up to put on more clothes, then I left for the tabling gig. As I was driving across town to pick up a banner, I realized what I must have looked like as I answered the door.

Haiku for My Random Act of Queerness

Bathrobe and bow tie.
No wonder he looked confused.
Poor Mr. Landlord.

I am not really comfortable showing the Internet the front of this outfit.

Stiff Little Fingers

Last night I crocheted white on white while watching Buffy on Netflix for about 4 hours straight because I am on a deadline to complete an art piece I promised to a local nonprofit for their auction, and this is a haiku about it.

Haiku for a Thursday Night Craftathon

Fingers cramping up
Eyes watering from the glare
This better be good

(Season 6, episodes 8 through 12, if you must know.)

There's a whole world out there.

One thing that's really stood out for me since moving from the Big City to the Small Town is how much less aware I am of global and even national events. I still get the same articles in my Facebook feed, I guess, but my focus is much more local.

And I wanted that. Going from editing a national magazine to providing direct service within a few miles' radius gave me the personal connections I was missing in my work. And I wanted my world to shrink to a manageable size so I could recover from the burnout of being stacked on top of and crammed together with 8 million of my fellow humans for 5 years.

But there are days when I feel cut off from the world and people who are in tune with and talk about the world outside their immediate sphere. And today, as news of Manning's sentence is making the internet rounds, I don't want to read smart, progressive articles or poignant, pointed tweets about what it means. I want to sit in a room with other people who are outraged or dejected or confused and just feel things and ask each other questions and stare at the floor.

Will that happen at the potluck tonight or around my kitchen table tomorrow or at the coffee shop Friday? Maybe, but probably not. I've felt this way many times recently--when Zimmerman was found not guilty, when Assata showed up on the most-wanted list, when the California prison hunger striker died, whenever there's news of Lynn Stewart's health declining. I could go on.

Maybe what I really miss is talking to people who are working on national or global social justice and a sense of hope for what is happening on the ground. All I'm left with is the headlines and a feeling of isolation.

Haiku for August 21, 2013 (aka tl;dr)

My New York Lefties,
Let's be depressed together
Til we change the world.

Life After Humans

So, you know how the Badlands in South Dakota used to be all underwater, and then the plates shifted and created mountains, and the water drained away, and then it was a jungle full of dinosaurs, and now we see these petrified soil layers sticking up all over amid these grassy plains? Well, me either, until yesterday. Now we both know.

Whenever I think in terms of millions of years on Earth, I find myself smiling with the realization that this experiment called homo sapiens will someday evolve into a new experiment with a species that will maybe not destroy itself and everything around it as quickly as it can.

Haiku for July 31, 2013

They called you "bad land,"
But you used to be a sea.
Anything can change.

I'm too busy for this blog.

Today's haiku brought to you by Right Said Fred because I still have a lot of packing to do.

You know what I mean
I'm too sexy for my shirt
So sexy it hurts

Do these bikini models with cameras make me look straight?

Call Me "Kiddo"

I bought my tickets! I'm flying to Minnesota at the end of the month to go on a road trip with my dad. We're driving to Montana with his girlfriend to see my little sisters, both of whom just had kids.

This post is in honor of the guy who has never batted an eye about anything I've ever told him. Except when I wouldn't eat my beets. That was pretty serious.

Haiku for 2,368 Miles

I was daddy's girl
Now I am my father's son
Some things never change

I am stoked to spend many hours confined in a hybrid car with this guy.

Queers of the Stone Age, or My Dinner with Homo Erectus

At dinner tonight (a Women's Freedom Center fundraiser at Fireworks), I was complaining (like I do) about having to eat multiple times a day in order to maintain the high metabolism of a warm-blooded mammal. I am missing the evolutionary characteristic of thinking about food between meals. I should have been a snake. Then I could eat once a month for about five hours, get a big kick out of it, and go back to living my life.

I suggested that, in the stone ages when there were no restaurants, I would have died already. Another friend, who wears glasses, worried they would also be dead, having been eaten by something big. Then it dawned on me that prehistoric us might have teamed up and saved each other's lives. My cave-buddy would remind me to eat, as I looked out for danger.

We think it would go a little something like this:

Haiku for Paleolithic Cooperation

There's no glasses yet
Hold my hand and run with me
There's a bear coming

Many hands make light work. And sometimes dinner.

Twue Wuv, or How I Learned to Equate Misogyny with Romance

Last night I watched an old favorite movie with some friends. We sat out on their lawn with the video projected onto the side of the house. It was nice to watch it with someone who had loved it and who shares my politics, so we could quote along and then criticize the hell out of it. For example, I hadn't realized how heavily the film's humor relies on characters' speech impediments. Westley taking time out from saving Buttercup to raise his hand to her (the consequence for women who lie) also made me squirm. Forget about passing the Bechdel Test. There are only three speaking roles for women, and they're a hapless princess, Miracle Max's wife (whom he calls a witch), and the old crone who boos at Buttercup in her nightmares.

Still, I laughed a lot and might inadvertently find myself saying, "Have fun storming the castle!" someday soon.

Haiku for The Princess Bride

"Inconceivable!"
I do not think that word means 
What you think it means.

"We" "win" !! (??)

Sometimes there's so much to say that I spend days writing and rewriting. In the end, it comes down to the wise words of a friend (also a blogger) and 17 syllables.

Haiku for Equality

Acceptable queers 
were invisible or dead.
Great! Now add "married."

Let me crochet about it and get back to you.

Last night, as I wrestled with an array of communication breakdowns, with that June supermoon blasting through my window, I started on the first few rows of what will be a very large sphere.

Haiku for a Super Moon

Capricorn full moon
Challenging my boundaries,
I'll crochet your ass.

Ye Olde Summere Jobbe

Haiku for Inaccurate Depictions of Medieval Europe

I don't like to judge
But your accent angers me,
Bad ren faire actor

Huzzah.

Silent Shout

Haiku for Happy Poking

My band is so loud
We just got our set shut down
Before it started

What's wrong with you people, by bzzzzgrrrl

Any new blogger (or possibly, new writer, though it's been about thirty five years since I was that, so who can say) knows that it can be very scaryweirdlonelyhardstrange to write into the ether without any feedback. That's why bloggers enable comments on their blogs, so people will respond.

As usual, the opinions expressed in this post are mine and only mine, and are not (necessarily) representative of the opinions of the tremendous Calvin Rey or 17ADay.

Cal created this
You read it, love it, laugh, cry.
Join in, for Pete's sake.

How do I get that gig?

Haiku for Higher Education

Paying gatekeepers
To become a gatekeeper
= Pyramid scheme, obvs

Nature an' shit

This might be the most "haiku" haiku on this blog yet. It comes from trying to explain, yesterday, what's so calming about a mountain creek.

Haiku for June 12, 2013

Running water, fire
Night traffic from the high rise
White noise, steady flow

Blissed out by a waterfall (photo by bzzzzgrrrl)

Lowering the bar

Bonus round

Haiku for 2013

Why must I be a(n)
(Awkward-ass thirty-something)
Teenager in love?

Talk about pop music

Haiku for June 10, 2013

"What is that?" she says,
Listening to Madonna.
"That is not a note."

HBD to His Purple Highness

Haiku for June 7, 2013

Watching Purple Rain
Taught me how to be a man.
Happy birthday, Prince.

Also, thanks, Mom, for making Prince movies part of my upbringing. Little did you know...

I'll Have to Say "I Love You" in a Song

Life is killing me
Let's not chat about despair
I want a new drug

On falling asleep on the couch after part of a beer

It is just too hot
To drive to a swimming hole.
That is my excuse.

Blove (web + log + love)

Dear readers,

THIS is a comment. Please make a note of it.

Thank you. The Management

In Memoriam

Haiku for Barbecue Day

i'm that little guy
walking home all by himself
wishing you were here

Phuck the pharmacia

I'm detoxing from antidepressants right now. It's pretty rough.

move over, bro

Haiku for the Internet

new favorite blog
sorry, stories about prince
i'll always love you

Touch-a touch me

I am realizing lately how important physical contact is for my well-being. I am realizing this because I am experiencing it a lot less than I used to, and when I do I really notice the shift.

In which I recycle a Facebook status update

This is the haiku version of my Facebook status two days ago. It still applies.

Haiku for May 14, 2013

i feel sorry for 
y'all who don't get periods. 
(buffy season six)

I can make even spring sound depressing.

I think this is the seed (see what I did there?) of what will be a longer poem about how growth is also loss, how there is a grieving that comes with any change, a moment of giving up the potential for the actualization of the thing. But because I am afraid of writing nature poetry, I will have to badass it up with swears. Because, as we have shown, that is how that is done.

Mourning the tight seed
What is this tender chaos
Sprung from a dark bed?

Springtime in the woods

What it sounds like outside my bedroom window from sunset to sunrise, without a single break

Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! 
Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!  
Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! 

Baby, you were born this--SHUT UP!

Making peace

Haiku for the last few days

Going separate ways
Hope you make peace with your ghosts
All my ghosts are me

Ramblin' Guy

Yesterday was a day with no plans. I just did what I did.

A walk to the farmer's market, some housework, a leisurely drive with a friend and their dog, spontaneous dinner-making with another friend, finding myself on the bottom of a kitten pile, and watching boring TV in an overcrowded bed.

In which our hero ponders the parent-appropriateness of this blog

My dad would totally not let me go to sleep last night. It was super cute. We were chatting on Facebook. (His mother's health is declining, and he has feelings.) I haven't shared this blog with him yet (or many people, really) because I don't want to censor myself. Rejection is real, people, and it hurts. But I'd like to think I am growing into taking more risks and being more vulnerable with those I care about.

Haiku for April 30, 2013

"Are you writing much?"
(Should I let my dad see this?)
"Just some short pieces."

Analog time warp

Last night I was working on a mixtape. Is a sentence that I haven't said in at least 15 years.

Choosing teams for the apocalypse

Last night I made some new friends. Two of them I met as they backed a pickup truck up to the fire pit and started throwing wood and various debris out the back. One of them stated he was drunk (it was around 6 pm). There was thrash metal blasting out of the truck's speakers.

Take the drag queens bowling

This post is mostly just an excuse to show off this photo I took at the drag show/karaoke/bowling party last night.

Ta-da!

Also it is sad and confusing to witness and be complicit in misogyny toward drag queens.

Haiku for April 23, 2013

It would feel too weird
To tip them, were they women.
It still kind of does.

Why I'm not all that into drag queens, by bzzzzgrrrl

The inestimable Calvin Rey has invited me to contribute a guest post. A very little context and caveat:

• The opinions expressed in this post are mine and only mine, and are not (necessarily) representative of the opinions of Calvin Rey or 17ADay.
• I am sick, and as regular readers of my blog will know, therefore crabby.
• I have lots more to say on this topic than will fit in 17 syllables, which is perhaps why it's better to stick to 17 syllables.

Men being women 
Is not so much subversive 
It's comedy. Why?

You gonna finish that blog?

I am really good at starting projects. As someone told me recently, my creativity is endless. Which is kind of the problem. All beginning, no end. Maybe the worst idea I've had was to start a project where I commit to doing something every day indefinitely. It is doomed. This blog is doomed.

Ask me about my omniscience!

I asked for a referral from my primary care physician yesterday for care he offered to provide me himself but which he is not particularly qualified to administer. He took it well, I think. As I was leaving his office, he said, "Come back when I can do something for you."

Fish sticks and lady fingers

Last night I attended a performance of the Fully Functional Cabaret on the campus of Smith College. Tonight's the last stop on their tour, otherwise I would tell you to go see it. Fingers crossed they will be able to tour the rest of the country with it.

Free bird

Haiku for April 10, 2013
(for S.)

Lived on the third floor
Died with the windows open
Like she flew away

Confessions of an occasional cook

If I haven't already told you, dear reader (because I tell anyone who will listen), I belong to a group of people who comprise four households and who all take turns cooking dinner for each other. Four nights a week, I get a home-cooked meal delivered to my door. One night every other week, I cook for eight.

Sick

Haiku for April 8, 2013

Evil Santa film
Made by Finnish geniuses
Cured me of the flu

Sunday bromance

Haiku for April 7, 2013

Montague Bookmill
Books you don't need, friends you do
Bro date, at long last

I was saying "boo-urns"

Haiku for April 6, 2013

Ken Burns likes to talk
Even when it's not his turn
Makes good movies, though

Phuck Pharmacology

Yesterday I drank no coffee. Ordinarily I drink about two cups a day. Last night I had one of the worst headaches I've experienced.

Using pharmaceutical industry logic, I can deduce that coffee prevents migraine, it should be available only by prescription, and I should plan to drink it for the rest of my life, even if I develop a stomach ulcer.

Don't call it a comeback

Yes. It's been a while.
I was on vacation, yo.
Don't worry. It's on.

Capricorns do it and then feel bad in the morning

I can only describe it as a kind of epic stoner brunch: Piles of food on the kitchen counter, piles of bodies on the LoveSac, slow-motion sledding into bramble bushes, Tarot readings on-site, getting home at supper time, and promptly falling asleep on the couch for two hours (instead of doing laundry).

When in doubt wear goggles

Last night I played a set as part of Deep Frost Slow Thaw, one of five bands in the show whose members were randomly assigned. My friends all said we sounded great, and those who are not necessarily my friends said we looked great. (Our uniform was short shorts and swim goggles.) And we sold five copies of our tape, which is really just recordings of our practices on one of those old rectangular cassette recorders with a built-in microphone. It's so lo-fi it's not even fi. It's like sub-fi.

Happy. Birthday.

Last night I celebrated my friend's birthday at her apartment with pizza, costume changes, and booty beats. She asked everyone in attendance to make a list of 31 (her age) things that make us happy. I thought it was going to be really hard; it sounded like so many things. But I was actually the first one to finish my list. Does that mean I'm happy?

Haiku for March 22, 2013
(for J.D.)

Hard cider. Dildos.
Naughty naps. Hot baths. The moon.
Cassette tapes. Haircuts.

With a rebel yell

My ailing love for humankind got a shot in the arm last night at the bowling alley in a neighboring town. Once in a while there is a karaoke crowd that is so fearless, so heartfelt, and so tipsy that their cracking voices crack my cold, hard heart.

The magic is gone

This is what I wrote last night.

I don't want to talk about it.

Haiku for March 20, 2013

Sorry, too pissed off
Don't feel like writing haiku
Good night, you assholes

We are all made of stars

So, last night I read the following passage in Imogen Binnie's debut novel Nevada, available for preorder from Topside Press:

She can't think of anything else to write, though, and after four and a half words her hand is starting to cramp. She can type all night, but with a pen, not so much. Maybe she should keep a haiku journal, in a non-appropriative way.

For my mad kin

I know someone who is having a really intense experience of being able to foresee the collapse of human society. Technologies, economies, governments, all failing. Their calculations have placed this event in the next couple of years. Everything on the news and the Internet is confirming these predictions. I can see this person's physical health deteriorating. Coffee and cigarettes and weed.

Facts of life

Today is my maternal grandmother's birthday. She would be 80-something today, I guess. She's been gone for a few years.

This is her and me a long time ago.

I'll have a Sticky Navel

You learn something new every day.

And by "you" I mean "I," and by "every day" I mean "on St. Patrick's Day."

And by "something new" I mean "what a body shot actually looks like."

Haiku for March 16, 2013

You slurp rum off me
As I stretch out on the bar
Who's this "St. Patrick"?

Take these D cups from me

Yesterday I realized I had been wearing a binder every day for a week straight. I also realized it hurts a lot when I turn my head or breathe. Lifting things and driving are difficult. I made an appointment for physical therapy.

Stitch-n-subvert-the-dominant-paradigm

Last night I hosted a rad, queer stitch-n-such, attended by one other person. I unraveled a blanket I had started weaving, and my friend made several inches of progress on a rainbow latch hook rug. We discussed the prevalence of sexually violent language in our everyday vocabularies and sang along to Flood in its entirety.

Fuck destroy the patriarchy! Build a little birdhouse in your soul!

Haiku for March 14, 2013

Asking queer questions
"How do you identify?"
"What does romance mean?"

3.13.13

Yesterday I got an unrecognizable tattoo and an unpopular haircut. I'm fairly pleased with both.

Haiku for March 13, 2013

Pinball inked on wrist
I have three dollars left now
"What's your tattoo of?"

With apologies to Bashō

Last night right before bed, I decided to write a haiku a day because g-d knows I can't commit to keeping a journal any other way.

Today I made the mistake of telling a friend my intention, and in response she uttered that most unflattering word to be crammed into the English language in the last couple of decades: "Blog."