tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80392419891470907922024-02-20T08:27:12.337-08:00The December Project 2008Boog City Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01736859750137242913noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8039241989147090792.post-8219177478138430442012-01-27T13:46:00.001-08:002012-01-27T13:46:54.493-08:00With Sean Cole.<br /><br /><br />December 1, 2008<br /><br />December why must you start so wet here, and kick<br />Chicago and Ann Arbor with a white foot? I don't get it.<br /><br />December your chill is no match for this shut-in,<br />West Wing and Nash Bridges reruns alternating on the t.v.<br /><br />December you flash red and then green -- blushing as my<br />nude roommate puts her food away. Grow up, sir, it's only flesh.<br /><br />December rabbits, rabbits, rabbits my first words out loud this morning<br />Bringing you in with good luck the monthlong<br /><br />December don't hide under that conifer. All the elegies in the world<br />are looking for you. You're the last act, after all. Bunny up.<br /><br />December order me a sicilian pie with mushrooms<br />But cut it so all the slices have crust, ok?<br /><br />December it's one for the money but no one ever told me<br />one what. Until I know that I'm staying put -- showless.<br /><br />December I don't pay for ice, I gets it free, see?<br />I gets it free.<br /> <br />December 2, 2008<br /><br />Please take a little time to enjoy the view<br />It’s something that I so really like to do<br />so, really, lean up against this glass with me.<br />Floor # 40 is a myth. We're in space. The city<br />says so little, just sits at the bottom of its mine shaft.<br />And you're there in the time slip<br />And nothing can ever be the same.<br />This is lame, this leg. It doesn't dance. Behind me<br />the whole office puts its hands on its hips, knees<br />collapsing. I face west. Wishing you'd walk over<br />and ask me, "may I have this last stand?"<br /> <br />December 3, 2008<br /><br />Mario Cuomo, cop a damn squat and let me<br />do your portrait. What the hell is wrong with you?<br /><br />I had the tailor let out your old Brunswick (Georgia) Pirates uniform,<br />heard you were a pretty good centerfielder ’til you met the fence up hard.<br /><br />Andrew Card has seven paintings in his attic now. Younger than his<br />under-Reagan years, he looks. You? There's Sanskrit on your face.<br /><br />Yes, yes, I know, you wouldn't trade a Cuomo for Seven Cards,<br />but are you now the Hamlet of the Hudson River School instead?<br /><br />One whose dad is dead? Absent from this castle yet among us?<br />Take your face and hold it in the air. I'll hurl my paintbrush.<br /> <br />December 4, 2008<br /><br />sideways unopened futon sleep<br />into a morning neck crick<br /><br />sick, I take upending slow<br />everyone on earth will hear a creak<br /><br />peek ’round the bend<br />go inside yr head and hide<br /><br />snide frolickers exeunt through<br />the park outside as I hit kitchen<br /> <br />December 5, 2008<br /><br />Today is Ninja day. It's pirate day. Today the whole staff<br />at the Globe wears sweater vests. No joke. It's called the "Vestival."<br /><br />I'm not sure that I believe you. I don't feel like googling to<br />check on your veracity. But, no joke, I think you're fucking with me.<br /><br />Nope. True. And as I am an honest fuck I'll pursue: it's Hug Day,<br />when all IT guys triage bug reports. Bugs not hugs. It's also Veteran's Day for booze.<br /><br />Hug Day? Booze Day? Mug Day? Youse Day?<br />All this gleep and glop has just confused may.<br /><br />Would you believe the Dutch think this is Christmas Eve? Some guy<br />named Sinterklaas arrives tomorrow, bearing hash.<br /><br />I do not believe in hash, except at that party in my yard<br />That time my folks had traveled far, yes that time I did believe in hash<br /><br />December 5 Krampusnacht! December 5 is here! December 5 is<br />Communicate With Your Kids Day! It's the 339th day of the year!<br /><br />339th day of the year? That can't be so, get out of here.<br />I'll do my math when math is done, but you said party, you said fun.<br /> <br />December 6, 2008<br /><br />I just got a haircut<br />A best friend’s wedding tomorrow<br />And no matter how I don’t care about all that<br />(the grooming not the bride and grooming)<br />I just got a haircut<br />There will be pictures you know<br />But document me how you like<br />I’m only feeling so-so<br />Used to shave my van dyke off because it scared mom’s<br />As I subway goo’d at their kids<br />Now it’s just my own mom<br />Who likes to stare at this yid<br />Clean-shaven<br />(I cut it all shorter,<br />I do like my beard,<br />It’s still red like my hair was<br />When I was, when I was.)<br /><br />* * * * * * * * *<br /><br />Sabbath dinner last night.<br />First one ever. Nervous<br />grab my groomer. Switch it on.<br />Forbidden. But I'm goyish. Jewy,<br />yes, but not one drop Semitic.<br />Run the buzzer up one sideburn<br />toward the temple. These are Rivkah's<br />friends. Bearded men with kipots<br />on their pates. Kids wear zizit.<br />"Zzz" goes razor up the other<br />side. Payos dangle from the heads<br />of patient men. Yemenites call<br />side-hair "simanim." Boston I'm<br />all tufty, worried, tie my tie five<br />times before I get it right. Rivkah<br />asks me, "do we leave a light on<br />when we leave?"<br /> <br />December 7, 2008<br /><br />First flakes.<br /><br />Soon, we'll all live in white<br /><br />sewer.<br /><br />But now<br /><br />sleigh bells.<br /><br />*<br /><br />bells live, now.<br /><br />first we'll white sleigh<br /><br />but soon flakes sewer all in.<br /> <br />December 8, 2008<br /><br />everytime i'd remember i'd forget "fuck<br />everybody," i said to the barber. schlepped in<br />like some mope from a beatles song. "mow it off,"<br />i said, " i'll play him-him in the play this year, whatever<br />his name was that comedian. given I found love<br />notes in a shoe box aimed at what's her face I got little<br />to groom for. all you lonely schmendricks your names escape me.<br /> <br />December 9, 2008<br /><br />Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm sure I'm right<br />If u figure me out<br />Can we figure me in<br />Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin<br />I've got enough fun friends<br />I don't need no more<br />Yr seniority don't matter<br />Walk the fuck out the door.<br /> <br />December 10, 2008<br /><br />i sound like demi moore<br />but I can't paint myself<br />without a lozenge handy<br />still sound like demi moore<br /><br />called my sister, wished her<br />a husky 41st this morning.<br />all day climbing down into a can.<br />now I sound like demi moore.<br /><br />i liked blame it on rio demi moore<br />no small affair demi moore<br />one crazy summer demi moore<br />before she had implants<br />before she turned plastic<br /><br />i liked bruce willis before demi did<br />he was like a demi-god, sipping<br />half a coffee in a cafe for the non-bald<br />i liked how spy magazine cropped<br />his face onto demi's molting body<br /><br />i used to jerk off to about last night demi moore<br />the her and rob lowe falling in love, falling in sex demi moore,<br />i wanted rob's blue chicago cubs cap with the red C on it,<br />I wanted to be rob lowe wanting to be with demi moore<br /> <br />December 11, 2008<br /><br />Starry night except stars are glass filaments in goy windows.<br /><br />During red and green lit santa nativity scene december drives<br />as we passed each glowing house my dad would say "Goyim, goyim, goyim"<br /><br />beat his chest like a roof bell. "It's a salute," he'd say. Today <br />my Rivkah says "let's find all the icicle lights." Two whole oldies stations elfed out.<br /><br />Two whole traveling tree families work at two corners two blocks from another<br /><br />One 1987 Chevy sliding toward certain brake job. One Elton<br />look-alike leaning into wind, new bank-envelope in hand.<br /><br />And some porridge warm inside of me<br /><br />And French horns, and firs. Put a star up there. Or a bird. I don't care.<br />Oh this turning orb is still predictable.<br /><br /> <br />December 12, 2008<br /><br />Dear Sean,<br /><br />Three days old<br />My cold’s a different kind of awful each day.<br /><br />Dear David,<br /><br />Pour bourbon in your nose. It hurts<br />but helps too. I did it Monday. Tons of ouch.<br /><br />Dear Sean,<br /><br />Did you know people think that if it's made in Kentucky it's called bourbon <br />And every where else it's called sour mash, but that's just not so.<br /><br />Dear David,<br /><br />A Sprite down south is called a coke. Everything's a coke down there.<br />As in, "What kind of coke you like? Sprite? Sasparilla?"<br /><br />Dear Sean,<br /><br />The first time I did coke was in a room at the grand hyatt before<br />representing papua new guinea at the national model u.n.<br /><br />Dear David,<br /><br />Guinea hen ambles behind hut at South African game preserve.<br />What's his damage? Divorce. The damage is always divorce.<br /><br />Dear Sean,<br /><br />I'd like to divorce this three-day-old cold of mine,<br />don't even want no alimony.<br /><br />Dear David,<br /><br />That's called a 1A. Ask the clerk if you can see a judge<br />this evening.<br /><br /> <br />December 13, 2008<br /><br />Peppermint Patty: please hand me an ornament.<br /><br />We were in king’s plaza shopping center in Brooklyn when my friend marci’s parents told her she was getting a dog for Chanukah, a german shepherd they named Candy. I got an acoustic guitar, quit lessons after a month ‘cause my finger tips hurt.<br /><br />I lean on the piano and look deep into the furl of your brow. The girl I really like is too pure for this type of Schubert variation.<br /><br />i picked up the guitar after quitting the piano after a year of lessons.<br /><br />I ran like hell at the ball, hoping the inevitable wouldn't happen.<br /><br />after the guitar my parents bought me a yamaha clarinet for seventh grade music class. It was in the back of the closet come fall.<br /><br />After I climbed down off the roof, I realized the whole flight had been in my imagination.<br /><br />after that i'd bring it to my college newspaper office during no-sleep layout weekends, call myself the king of swing and hit way off notes through a brokendown reed.<br /><br />One day I walked halfway to school before discovering my blanket bunched under my armpit. It just happened.<br /><br />when we lived in flatbush the brooklyn academy of music wanted eight-year-old choir kid me to live there and study voice. my mother thought i was too young to live away from home.<br /><br />One year the other kids and I met Vince Guaraldi. He composed us a whole new<br />carol, called us "kittens." I grew in love with him.<br /><br />as senior in my k through 12 jewish day school, i joined the chorus partially to befriend the younger sister of the girl i liked, helping the little ones with their ties before we sang at alice tully hall.<br /><br />When the bunch of us woosh out hands before the Christmas tree it blooms ornaments. Our wishes become truths through hard work and perseverance.<br /> <br />December 14, 2008<br /><br />I’m gonna go outside today<br />Gatherin’ all my errands to do at once<br />Figuring the route so I’ll come back sooner<br />Proof pages to jesse<br />Scrips to the drug store<br />Head to a staples,<br />the one further from home but nearer the pharm,<br />For memo pads for daily pants’ pocket,<br />And Letter and tabloid paper for printing,<br />Then back to the pharm for drug pick-up,<br />Then back to jesse for final signoff pages<br />Then back inside<br />I like inside.<br /><br />* * * * * * * * *<br /><br />Finally back home. Drove<br />two hours last night to Portland.<br />Long way to travel for a party, arrived<br />late. Glided up and down Summit Street<br />peering house numbers. None<br />corresponds. Left car at curb to search<br />on foot. Arctic air curling both hands into<br />bird claws. Every address wrong. No sign<br />of merriment. Old man gazes out at me from nervous<br />kitchen. I call and call and Carol doesn't<br />answer. I climb back in warm car and uncrumple<br />the directions. South Portland. Not Portland. Who knew<br />you could build a whole new city by sticking <br />a prefix on the old one.<br /> <br />December 15, 2008<br /><br />Dim already. 4:12 PM. Warm.<br />The employed need no coat for this commute.<br /><br />Really, "The employed need no coat for this commute"?<br />You're Sean Cole, dammit, can't you come up with anything better than that?<br /><br />Dim already. 4:12 PM. Warm.<br />David yelling at me via email to send him better iamb. He's mean.<br />Means well.<br /><br />"Better iamb"--nice! I originally thought it said better lamb, which made me <br />think of lambchop, shari lewis now 10 years gone, and why I should send you<br />better lamb.<br /><br />Dim already. 4:12 PM. Warm.<br />As though it's spring, I remove both sock puppets, hang them up<br />beside my Nesmith hat.<br /><br />My youngest niece, who I call monkey, with a y, more than her given name,<br />michelle, with an e, would like the way "Nesmith hat" sounded but have no<br />idea what you were talking about.<br /><br />Dim already. 4:12 PM. Warm.<br />Unzip my name. Take the "n" off and lean on promenade railing,<br />watching ocean.<br /><br />I keep picturing Beyoncé singing<br />Unzip my name, unzip my name,<br />And wondering how she'd unzip her name.<br /><br />Dim already. 4:12 PM. Warm.<br />Stars get ready to grace proscenium. Lobby lights blink on, off. A<br />cough. Then nothing.<br /><br />Yeah, nothing, that seems like an end, right?<br /> <br />December 16, 2008<br /><br />Wake at five<br />Sitting on my bed<br />Tv on<br />Remote on my leg<br />Check my email<br />Look at the news<br />Say i'll be quick<br />Six-and-a-half hours later<br />I set my alarms to get three more hours sleep<br />Get up<br />Before my event tonite<br />Gotta shower<br />But I just might<br />Put deodorant and powder on<br />Walk in the bathroom<br />With boxers and undershirt change<br />Decide no hair wash<br />But my pits are deranged,<br />Shower steam<br />Throat clears me awake<br />Gotta dress me<br />Gotta leave take<br /><br />* * *<br /><br />Fiendish! No holes<br />shirking since six when<br />Rivkah and I went rouge<br />grocery shopping, then rolled<br />through Somerville looking for more<br />psycho yule homages. What happened next<br />is so not PG I won't pantoum you with it. Suffice<br />with this: I'm the most fortunate lay clergy since that film<br />about the star-crossed spiritual advisor to the Massachusetts<br />senate -- a movie that doesn't exist yet but I'm going to write it!<br /><br /> <br />December 17, 2008<br /><br />Good morning Mr. Broken Thermostat<br /><br />My dad listened to president carter<br />set our home's thermostat to 65<br />"if you're cold walk around the block then come back in,<br />You won't be anymore."<br /><br />"Thank goodness for mercy," we collectively say to the toolbox.<br /><br />My dad gave me a toolbox<br />when I moved back to brooklyn<br />"this is gonna come in handy<br />sooner than you think."<br /><br />Our hands move toward the sink, and fold in prayer beneath the hot tap.<br /><br />My dad and brother helped me<br />when I moved back to brooklyn<br />"we got replacement nipples for yr sister's bottles around the corner in<br />1957 at the borough's only 24-hour drug store"<br /><br />Our Landlord, who's in the living room, hallowed be thy owner's manual.<br /><br />My dad owned a powder blue 1969 Karmann Ghia<br />Until another car came crashing down our street<br />"I never should have parked the car<br />in front of the house."<br /><br />Midday comes, and with it brand new warmth derived from hardware store.<br /><br />My dad would buy store brand mayonnaise<br />Put it in the old hellmann's jar<br />"don't tell your mother,<br />let’s hope she won’t know"<br /> <br />December 18, 2008<br /><br />The dominos don’t end on this<br />You want no structure<br />And I just took a piss<br /><br />Structure is for foster kids. Or games.<br />Poems aren't orphaned blocks of wood with dots.<br />This is not a villanelle.<br /><br />The very first line's by aaron sorkin<br /> From a west wing episode<br />The dominos don't end on piss<br /><br />TV kicks poetry in the ass.<br />Frank O'Hara almost said that.<br />I would like to be paid in pizza, I said.<br /><br />Vicky and her boyfriend came back from vermont snowboarding<br />"do you know if there's a pizza hut nearby? A papa john's? A domino's?"<br />"aargh! you live in New York City, get ray's pizza," I said.<br />"we have a craving," she said.<br /><br />See? Structureless. Just when you thought<br />we were going to three-line you to death.<br /> <br />December 19, 2008<br /><br />One month into my 38th year God<br />says "eff it," ends the whole world under<br />white, cold, calm<br />bomb. Great.<br />Blame.<br />It's like blame landing.<br />I'll lie here, under the wet<br />wig of all that regretful<br />crap.<br /><br />Last day of my 42nd year Clapton<br />says "would you," knows my name<br />cocaine, blow, Bolivian marching<br />powder. Sate.<br />Same.<br />It's like same remanding.<br />I'll try beer, wonder the pet<br />pig and all of that hateful<br />crap.<br /> <br />December 20, 1966<br /><br />My folks say I was my sister’s 10th birthday present<br />Tomorrow’s her birthday<br />Today is mine<br /><br />When all my clothes were outfits<br />her friends would come over<br />dress and redress me repeatedly<br /><br />* * *<br /><br />My sister's 10th birthday gift was a divorce<br />December 10th, same day<br />as Emily Dickinson.<br /><br />With all the world's lovers<br />failing in their resolve, she got<br />mean. Humiliated me with dad's porn<br />when her friends were over.<br /><br /> <br />December 21, 2008<br /><br />Solstice: deriving from Latin "sol" meaning "solar," same root as "soldier." Norse God "Saul" marched his horse toward Saturn, blotting out partly the sun. Partying on Earth starts early. Women doff their habiliments for less solid cloth. "Stice" comes from "Sistere" meaning "sister." These are the origins of the phrase "soul sister."<br /><br />The Human Be-In was on the winter solstice.<br />Nixon resigned on the winter solstice.<br />Rick James released Super Freak on the winter solstice.<br />Don Larsen pitched a perfect game in the World Series on the winter solstice.<br />The Greeks pulled that Trojan horse bit on the winter solstice.<br />I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus on the winter solstice.<br />Sir Edmund Hillary and his Sherpa guide Tenzing Norgay climbed Mount Everest on the <br /> winter solstice.<br />Marlon Brando had fake Native American Sasheen Littlefeather refuse<br />his Oscar for The Godfather on the winter solstice.<br />G-d said to Abraham, "Kill me a son" on the winter solstice.<br /><br />Solidaritee: An apparel company created on this day 1987. Apparently they make "gender-crashing" yoga Chanukah gifts. I'm not joking. Today was solstice in 1962 when America tells Polaris to seize Britain and Polaris refuses saying "What is 'seize?'" The reason researchers say Charles de Gaulle was elected to victory this day was<br />because the Sun roamed closest to France. A closet in Belgium yawns for the injustice of it. St. Sulpice: a beer garden in Montreal which, when the stars are violent, breeds flirtation.<br /><br />Kurt Cobain was born on the winter solstice.<br />Thomas Jefferson made the Louisiana Purchase on the winter solstice.<br />Jell-O pudding was invented on the winter solstice.<br />Fitzgerald wrote Gatsby on the winter solstice.<br />George Washington kicked some British ass on the winter solstice.<br />Pandora opened her box on the winter solstice.<br />Captain Matthew Webb swum the English Channel on the winter solstice.<br />Secretariat won the Triple Crown on the winter solstice.<br /><br />Secretariat's shoulder was pounded into a poultice on this day, 1973. The skin stretched tight over a drum. A tympanum. Singular for tympany. The whole symphony marching out to Bronx Hill, hitting horse bones against corse hide. Equinus: the Latin from whence St. Thomas Aquinas gets his name. Let him divine us. High school was nothing compared to this renewal. Equifax: strike our tax debt from your jacket ledger. You are Scrooge Act 5. Act 1 is behind us. Minnesota: vote this season into office with your caucus poll. America: nab a neighbor’s hand and nestle on the nearest hummock. Hock your voices to the world wind. Let us all sing "ho," the word "ho," like St. Nicholas only singular. Let us all plough new runnels in the snow, lay down in them like angels cryonically chosen for a future now.<br /><br />Sean Cole and David Kirschenbaum wrote this on the winter solstice.<br /> <br />December 22, 2008<br /><br />30 years ago today,<br />in Lenox, Massachusetts,<br />on winter’s first day,<br />December 22, 1978,<br />Bernadette Mayer wrote her classic poem Midwinter Day.<br />Not on winter’s middle day<br />February 9.<br />Does this mean Monday is midweek?<br />I’m just saying.<br /><br />Dream-standing. Power yoga to the people:<br />you show up. I've had you here now a bushel days.<br />Your tower on the dining room desk. Everything<br />is flexible with us. Today I spoon in and out of crowing.<br />Your Alaska clock is like the sun climbing out of a hole.<br />We get up. Everest. Damn dark it'll be two hours before<br />I'm watching you do Utkatasana in front of the fireplace.<br /><br />7:20 diet cherry kool aid pee<br />ice fill mets tumbler<br />grab nyc tap poland spring 1.5-liter bottle<br />touch trackpad lights up screen<br />paolo emailing from his honeymoon about the anthology<br />don't surf, back to bed.<br />10:20 nyc tap poland spring pee<br />ball blanket up on futon's bed pillows<br />Clear papers, magazines, files stack off old classroom chair<br />Tune sports radio 66 wfan in to hear huge jets fan joe benigno rail over<br />their loss—"Oh the pain."<br />Sit on opposite end of futon,<br />put feet up on chair,<br />MacBook on my lap.<br />10:58 mute football talk,<br />turn tv on to abc,<br />The View begins in two minutes.<br /><br />I tell you 10:45 because I mean 11:00. It's understood with us.<br />Much is. "Mush," I tell myself, thrashing my own leg. The bus.<br />You don't wanna. Too in love. Ice has built an awful town on top of this one.<br />House too warm to leave even for four days, to swap even for New York<br />where afternoon hits like wind on a brick sail. Soon you'll clock the East<br />Village with your blue boots. Each step one second. Clack.<br />Cluck. A hundred buses land there every dusk. Each one<br />filled with solitary lovers bracing for the cold like a present torn open.<br /><br />Breakfast is late lunch<br />spinach and tuna mixed together.<br />(I'm out of mayonnaise.)<br />$2.24 in my checking account,<br />another $15 in my wallet.<br />Eating is an exercise of<br />opening cabinets, the fridge, and the freezer<br />and thinking what can I make,<br />since ordering in can't happen right now.<br />Wash a bowl to eat from,<br />and heat up some of last night's enriched white rice in it,<br />combining the spinach tuna mixture and the rice<br />and put some nyc tap poland spring in my ice fill mets tumbler.<br />The Empire State Building's blue and white<br />for Chanukah.<br />They've changed their lighting patterns,<br />no more all red-green December except first blue-white Chanukah night.<br />Now four days blue-white,<br />six days red-green on north/south sides<br />and blue-white on east/west sides,<br />then nine days red-green<br />In all, not a bad time to be a Jew with an Empire State Building view.<br /><br />It comes early. 4:30. Already, no one can see his left hand.<br />I say "his" because I mean mine, ambling this moon<br />scape. Every step takes one hour, one whole evening,<br />dear. The world is a hip rolling an empty cup.<br />I'll have you know I saw her tonight. Never happens<br />but first the dog ran up and then it was three years earlier.<br />Three of us wandering kings. Three kids playing<br />broken house. I talk about people she doesn't know. New<br />chums and their problems. Soon I'll meet one of those<br />friends at subway stop. We'll eat Indian, drink dark<br />rum ginger beer, nauseate by the fire. I'll drive<br />him home. I'll lie on the couch tonight. Black and white<br />Christmas Carol lurching me to sleep. Past comes first.<br /><br />past always comes first. every dream seems not one<br />i'm falling asleep and waking up with my laptop on, yes, my lap,<br />waking up 20 minutes later with a bit of headache,<br />tonight i'll go to bed earlier,<br />not so early as to effect my sleep patterns,<br />but earlier so as to catch up on sleep<br />even though you can't.<br /><br /> <br />December 23, 2008<br /><br />'Tis the season to be arrested for shoplifting. Prosecutions<br />through the roof. Once upon a time, in New Paltz, I thought<br />of filching snack cakes from the Lil' Peach but I didn't<br />have the balls of holly.<br /><br />when i was in junior high<br />we'd go to good ’n' plenty,<br />the candy store next to my synagogue,<br />while my nonjewish friends would engage the cashier<br />i'd be down on the floor<br />scooping packs of topp's baseball cards into my tallis bag,<br />alongside my prayer shawl.<br />we'd bike to the schoolyard a few minutes later,<br />split the take.<br /><br /> <br />December 24, 2008<br /><br />dream<br /><br />working at chemical week<br />the woman who's my assistant or co-copy editor<br />expressed a desire that all of the copy be broken up<br />the larger pieces,<br />like 15 short interviews under one heading<br />so today, to make her happy, i did just that,<br />i broke them up.<br /><br />then i see her walk toward andrew wood<br />my then chemical week boss<br />and complain that they're all broken up<br /><br />"she wanted them separate, so i separated them," i yelled to him<br />immediately,<br />as i walked toward him.<br />"either i'm an idiot or she's gaslighting me."<br />i realize i'm not wearing a shirt, any shirt at all,<br />not even a v-neck undershirt,<br />and that my blue jeans have no belt on<br />and are unbuttoned<br />with the fly down a litle bit,<br />like i'd just ate too much at a holiday dinner.<br />maybe i should put a shirt on, i think, and look around.<br />most of the other guys aren't wearing shirts, no shirts at all,<br />not even v-neck undershirts.<br /><br />* * *<br />Reality<br /><br />This isn't a work shirt at all it's just hair. Not a "hair<br />shirt," a la monasticism -- I'm a hirsute copy-editor feigning<br />ignorance of standard operating couture. i.e. I cracked<br />the dress code, i.e. all you fools in pants pale in smarts<br />beside my poet sensibility.<br /> I am a 24-hour poet.<br />My fly is down. Walking toward you, you'll soon realize<br />I'm nude inside. All these rules don't apply to my 6' 3"<br />350 pound body of work with lush fur growing from it.<br />I am many men, with many pairs of pants bunched around<br />the anapests.<br /> I am vast, I contain multi-dudes.<br />You've main-framed the argument all wrong my vested<br />pal. Soon you'll pay me what you owe me: attention.<br />Soon I'll get my due. 14 pairs of slacks. Plus severance.<br />Plus "I'm sorry" painted on your chest with a violet<br />apologizer. I know where every woman in this office<br />keeps her hairbrush. I am thorough. And I will never<br />stop researching the work-a-day poem that is reality.<br /> <br />December 25, 2008<br /><br />The last christmas I celebrated was in 1994<br />candace’s dad's and step-mom's house<br />met them for first time that night<br />we excused ourselves to go see new version of Little Women<br />with winona ryder and the my so-called life girl, claire danes,<br />it was five days after i seven weeks into us<br />asked candace to marry me on our shared birthday<br />she turned 22, i turned 28,<br />on the floor by her seat in the middle of the movie cobb<br />at the sony lincoln square theater<br />with a knotted up straw as a ring,<br />a long one, the ride back to her east fifth between c&d third-floor walk-up.<br /><br />* * *<br /><br />I’ll have a bleu cheese and bacon Christmas burger without you. That is,<br />if I can effing find a place that’s open today. Enough non-revelers around<br />you’d think locating take out or better yet delivery wouldn’t mean going all<br />Vespucci on this town. Such is food. You’re in New York, eating dim sum as is<br />the wont of your people. New York the eating is the greatest part.<br />The rest, though, I could live without. The rat rent. The need to outsprint<br />every other potential tenant just to hug uncomfortable in your twin hole. CBGB’s<br />closing, the constant threat of tourism, no wonder the whole place is one big<br />alcoholocaust. Cruella de Vil moved to Albany for a reason, mademoiselle.<br />I don’t expect to be fed this evening but at least I can languish by the fire-<br />place and wish the grocery store were open so I could buy wood.<br /><br />* * *<br /><br /> <br />take a highway away from me<br />and i'm in the car you see<br />no delivery today<br />so i order yesterday<br />a sicilian pie with mushrooms<br />don't tell my diabetic doc<br />no flurry of activity<br />pass on a christmas party<br />to sports radio and paper layout<br />while drinking flavored seltzers<br />because they're cheaper then soda<br />in my local supermarket<br />in every supermaret<br />i prefer raspberry- and orange-flavored<br />the lemon just don't work<br />but in a bar i ask for lemon<br />sometimes i ask for lime<br />looking like an alcoholic<br />which isn't really a crime<br />unless you crash your car on the highway<br />13 already dead from accidents<br />so i stay in my home<br />this christmas day<br />’cause i'm a jew<br />and a shut-in<br />with a deadline to meet.<br /><br />* * *<br /><br />Two folks in the past two days have asked <br />me if I've seen Elf. <br /> "Yeah," I've said, "I cried."<br />Both were quizzical. <br />"I just think it's so funny," both said. <br />"Yeah," I said, "When they lifted the sleigh with<br />the power of their belief, I bawled." Like some<br />George Bailey, rubbing Mary's face asking, "Hey.<br />Do you know me?" <br /> <br />December 26, 2008<br /><br />one of my sister's long island railroad friends was randy gordon,<br />the editor of ring magazine, the boxing bible<br />my sister connected teenage me with him eventually<br />me going to their offices-<br />slash-boxing hall of fame<br />(i marveled at how big former heavyweight champion primo carnera's gloves were,<br />all 6'6" 270 pounds of him)<br />doing some clerical work<br />helping out with the ring record book,<br />their boxing annual,<br />even meeting the publisher,<br />the legendary burt randolph sugar,<br />who'd sign a copy of the book he cowrote on muhammad ali<br />and gift it to me.<br />i was as tall then at 14 as i am now, just a bit under 6'3",<br />weighed 150 or so,<br />"you'd make a great middleweight with that reach," randy said.<br />"a great middleweight."<br /><br />By now I can say this: I have been searching all day<br />for a box that will fit this miniature bench. It's like a park<br />bench for Barbie. Smaller even. Two big holes in the seat.<br />Salt and pepper shakers nestle there. It's a tandem<br />toilet for Barbie's twin nieces. It's a going away present for my best<br />friends. February they leave: breaking my heart. No box<br />will fit this gift. I've tried. The box my socks arrived in Friday, special<br />socks that someone stole with all the other clothing in my<br />back seat. The box that Jenny handed me before boarding<br />a South African jet. "It's a great phone, Seanie," she said,<br />"I've been using it." The box in which I made a mouse home<br />for an American mouse. It was ailing. Some parasitic agenda filled<br />its innards. Instead of dead I wanted it alive so I could speak<br />with it, discuss mouseness. The box I live in now, alone, without<br />my friends who've have[who’ve] fled to other coasts, to the East Village, the edge<br />of Perth, Australia, the Saudi town on the Gulf, one of the Twin<br />Cities, I can't tell them apart, and the heart of Oregon where we<br />wonder "what rain will land here? What boxes can we escape each<br />other into." The bench has a photo of Brockton, Mass., on the back of it:<br />birthplace of world's only undefeated heavyweight champ, Rocky Marciano.<br /> <br />December 27, 2008-sean then me<br /><br />Brought up in the country of get your own<br />fell far but the barn (came) up & smacked me<br />Do you see what's interesting about this?<br />The air is interesting.<br />Moon up over the embers.<br />The crystal haze<br />It is unlike night.<br /><br />It's odd to have a separate month. It<br />is nice at Nice. Wander<br />but ideas are obscure and nothing should be obscure tonight<br /> <br />December 28, 2008<br /><br />In 9th grade Spanish class<br />our assignment was Quien soy yo?<br />Who am I?<br />I got up in front of the class and said<br />"Mi numero es veintiocho."<br />"Yo rompio mi tobillo en los beisbol playoffs."<br />My friends in the class knew the answer right away.<br />"Tu eres Cesar Cedeno,"<br />the Houston Astros centerfielder<br />who was one of my favorite ballplayers.<br /><br />"Mi ciudad es muy aburrido," everybody said. Assignment<br />was get up and tell the class about your town. Nobody<br />prepared. Alex Weiss's mom was from Spain somewhere so<br />he already knew how to habla on and on about his birthplace.<br />Cheater.<br /> <br />December 29, 2008<br /><br />Overate. Feel like a round ornament hanging<br />for dear life from an evergreen branch. This<br />condition is known as "Jolly Body."<br /><br />when i call my brother on his cell phone<br />a picture of me,<br />at my bearded best,<br />pops up,<br />atop it the words<br />"Santa calling."<br /><br />"Here comes Santa Claus," say the children<br />as I roll down the street. They throw black<br />snow at my sleigh. I light a smoke. Seems<br />no one needs to be good anymore. Whole<br />year to make up for poor behavior.<br /><br />there's no time to make up for poor behavior<br />just behave, truly<br />just be good for goodness sakes.<br /><br /><br /> <br />December 30, 2008<br /><br />(words from Sean 12.30.01, 02, 03, 04 poems, collaged by dak)<br /><br />David, we’re setting off to your city to say goodbye<br />be in a bar with terrorists<br />in a hole,<br />unable to evade the guilt I am feeling.<br />Maybe this world can only hope to sidestep hell, cancer, fire, plutonium, fear.<br />Tonight I am not buying it.<br />People could, I swear,<br />my neighbor couldn’t.<br />I dreamed amnesia tomorrow,<br />many things a moment.<br />I wonder when you step out windows,<br />escape the end,<br />sorry, my shoe hit a mall,<br />an explosion blowing it upward,<br />a thrill.<br />David, we’re setting off to your city to say goodbye<br />be in a bar with terrorists<br />in a hole,<br />unable to evade the guilt I am feeling.<br /><br /><br /> <br />(words from dak 12.30.04, 05, 06, collaged by Sean)<br /><br />Glucometer. <br /><br />Bob Geldof looks really thin.<br />Dylan should be organizing an extra <br />meal a day for him. I’ll buy tickets. Even Dylan<br />has a pretty face but sickly. <br /><br />I wouldn’t say it’s diabetes. But body changes <br />can be quite disturbing. Even certain<br />pairs of my pants have grown bigger. I’ll be driving <br />to Jordan to sell some tickets to friends. <br />Dylan’s car, maybe. I don’t have the money<br />to put fifty dollars toward a new cell phone. <br />So don’t call to tell me I look thin. <br />I know I look thin. I know a credit<br />card can kill me. I know unemployment<br />can worry my father. But The Mets<br />don’t say my vacant outfit looks un-hot.<br /><br />Multiple messages from home: <br /><br />“Yre the only goon<br />with a pretty face, <br />a tight can, <br />a gay heart <br />and a fax number.” <br /><br />I won’t call back. <br /><br /><br /> <br />December 31, 2008<br /><br />New York. Unique new year. You near.<br /><br />After rehearsing the Star Wars poem-songs for tomorrow,<br />Jesse invites me to stay for dinner with him and his kids in their new apartment.<br />We settle on Chinese, and he says he's going to pick it up.<br />"Dude, you live in the city," I tell him, "you don't pick up food."<br />But my intercom doesn't work yet, he says.<br />"You give them your cell number, have them call you from the lobby,<br />you go down and meet them there."<br />What if the delivery guy doesn't have a cell phone, he says.<br />"He'll have a cell phone," I say.<br /><br />Ian’s party. Arty paeans written by bitten, wry Brooklynites bookleting.<br /><br />"We have no chairs," Jesse says, "hope you don't mind standing when you eat."<br />Sitting next to his kids on the couch I say,<br />"Why don't you just bring the kitchen table in here?"<br /><br />Droll bopsters on dance floor. Big screen ball dropsy. Flouncy door beads part to pot flower.<br /><br />Watch the beginning of the SpongeBob movie on their 13-inch tv,<br />me sitting, all Schoens restless, sitting and standing<br />as we eat our Chinese food.<br />Eight-year-old Logan's coughing nonstop,<br />one spoons the hot-n-sour soup he ordered.<br />“I don't like it,” he says.<br />I tell Jesse he can have my tofu vegetable soup,<br />and Logan eats it right up,<br />cough slowing down a bit<br /><br />Back room. Boom: we're in the cookies. Milk reduces booze influence, Rivkah says. I moo at her.<br /><br />Around nine i bundle up for winter walk home<br />although it's only a block.<br />Say to Jesse's kids,<br />“Alright tonight's the only night each year you can say this line,”<br />and tell them "See you next year."<br />Logan, is laughing crazily,<br />his 12-year-old brother True rolls his eyes.<br />“Alright,” I tell them, “here's the rest of my fifth grade material:<br />“You're pretty … pretty ugly.<br />“How do you say pig in French? Pig in French.”<br />(And you can substitute any word and any language for that one,<br />like how do you say cow in Hebrew? Cow in Hebrew.)<br />Logan's still rolling, True still eye-rolling.<br />“True, these jokes will suck until your 25,<br />when you're 25 they're going to remind you of when you were 10<br />but also be so dumb that you're gonna laugh like Logan is.”<br /><br />Ride home. So cold, lit. Hive roams in head. Loll to sleep. One leap moment. I'm 2,009 years old.<br /><br />All the New Year's Eve specials aren't doing anything for me,<br />nothing on my premium movie channels<br />or the basic cable ones that always have what used to be called the movie of the week<br />so i scan through my dvr's library<br />and watch something so memorable i delete and don't recall it.<br />(I find that deleting recordings from dvr to free up space <br />is almost as pleasurable as watching recordings from my dvr.)<br />My 15-year-old niece calls from new year's sleepover.<br />"Uncle David, what's wrong with Dick Clark?"<br />“He had a stroke monkey,” I tell her.<br />"Happy new year," she says.<br />“It's a quarter to, call me when it's the new year.”<br />At three minutes to 2009 i default to Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve<br />(now with Ryan Seacrest as buzzard-in-waiting),<br />see the Times Square light descending bright between the buildings over my terrace <br />as the countdown ends and the clark's happy stroke overkiss.Boog City Eventshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01736859750137242913noreply@blogger.com0