patient_0

Florida Song

We were the last car let in
before they closed Alligator Alley.
80 miles an hour on an open road
and the Everglades were burning:
flame tongues visible in fits and starts
through fissures in the smoking pines as ash
plumes fell like fragile feathers
shed by a phoenix scraping through the refuse
of its previous life.
I don't know why it sticks with me--
the orange glow over water melting
toward a molten sunset, lights on now,
the red eyes of alligators flashing like brake
lights at the lip of the water's edge
while your stare burned a hole through the horizon
as we drove through this beautiful hell.
Memories. Often I want to put the torch to--
letting everything go black as we sit
in the silence of a stopped car,
listening to the heartbeat of the hazard lights,
our histories smoked over at last.

Dear Universe,

It's been a heck of a ride, and I have proved my capacity at sticking with shitty jobs and being miserable, yet responsible. Now the light shines down out of the clouds, and I am ready.

I need this job. I can do this job. I DESERVE THIS JOB.
PLEASE don't be the same cum-gobling thundercunt who keeps sending people with thrice my experience to inexplicably take jobs that are obviously beneath their level. I missed out on that academic press publishing position by a hair, so you owe me.

Time to let me use my writing and actually get paid for it.

Thanks,
Byron O

Tramadol, you suck.
450 milligrams and NOTHING. I am still in grinding pain.
My kingdom for a Vicodin.

*1st 6-week cycle of high protein diet plan = 16 pounds weight loss in tandem with muscle gain that is more than evident, especially in the arms/chest department.

*Moved into smaller apartment which, ironically, is now nicer than my larger apartment and is $300/month less; all I lost was a den/guest room I rarely used and a fireplace.

*Keying up for actual honest-to-god graduate apps.

*Am signing up for Tai Chi w/ Sifu Smith.

My mother just found my dildo.

ALTERED BEAST muthafukka!

My Grandmother, the last loving relative I have with the exception of my parents, just died. My dad made the call:

"Your Grandmother just passed away."

I fucking hate that term. Passed Away. As though her body slowly vanished like Yoda, like she climbed onto some rococo goddamn Elven ship and sailed away to Tolkein's LaLaland. It does no justice to the reality that my grandmother's corpse is lying in her bed right now, waiting for strangers to come and cart it out, no longer good for anything but acting as fodder for our grief and lining the pockets of people who have made an industry out of Death.

I spoke with her briefly on Sunday, and you could hear the creep of it in her voice, Death, like a pebble stuck in the throat of a failing vacuum. Vibrating. Taking over her frequency until nothing was left but white noise,

then nothing at all.

Upon Reflection

i don't know why certain things bother me: 
like dandelions: 
like the way immensely fat men tie their shoes, 
heads down hunched over
                     grunting, 
their brows streaked with sallow sweat. 
the way people look sincere 
when they touch my hand 
and tell me i look depressed: even when its true: 
even despite my daily dry-swallow 60 milligrams 
of Prozac. pills: i don't know why certain things 
don't bother me. vitamins. antidepressants. 
handfulls of hydrocodone. Other things though: 
do bother me: buttons. round and slick like pills, 
but always popping: coming undone: undependable. 
i can count on Vicodin:
i cannot count on my silk shirts staying closed: 
or that i will find the lost button from my blue blazer
in my pocket: heavy as a period.

Two of my poems have been selected for inclusion in the upcoming poetry anthology by Goldfish Press!

My first submission on 2009's Send Shit Out for Publication initiative is already paying off.

Score!

LET THE MAGICIAN OF SPARKLE WRITE SEXY MAGIC FOR YOU! (THE VAST MULTIVERSE!)
Reply to: serv-1006209287@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2009-01-24, 4:56PM EST


I'm taking a break from Las Vegas magic and conferring with Elvis and levitating elephants over the Mojave Desert. And because I love people everywhere I shall continue to offer my magic to you via the written word and a scribe's creative spirit! In fact, a magic wand is what I am holding for you this very moment. Such magical words beyond your wildest imagination! For I write the things that other writers can't or won't. Need a wedding or funeral poem? A dating profile or sales letter or marketing brochure or professional resume? Or a poison pen letter written to tell off that slimy boss or betraying friend? How about a eulogy or speech or website press release or party toast? You name it, and I probably can write it for you. As long as you want something good and creative and profound and unforgettable. That includes many kinds of journalism, radio and film scripts, book editing, playwriting, SEO website copywriting and editing. And of course also magazine articles and just about any kind of verse you can imagine! I also provide online and in-person tutoring in English grammar and composition, and can perhaps write symphonic music for you if you have a piano!

By the way, I charge reasonable rates and even handle divorces! Like to see my credentials and proof of my skills and abilities? Drop me a line and I'll give you a gander. And even edit your novel if you can pay slightly better than peanuts and have a nicer attitude than Hemingway. That would be Ernest. But you can call me earnest!

Patrick The Poet
marcelproust38@yahoo.com


* Location: THE VAST MULTIVERSE!
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

Trammadol's a trash drug; I'd rather be fed Darvocet. Test results still not in-- I've been sitting around for over a week now thinking about what could be going on hidden in my body as the clocks drag their excruciating circuit.

Yesterday we went ot the Raleigh Chinese New Year thing at the Exposition center: it sucked. If all you're offering is a chance to buy Cantonese food and Pocky at $5 a box, why bother charging me $8 to get in?

Luckily, the flea market was more thrilling. Scored: 10 shiny antique keys, a hat for Rachel, and a skull (FROM Rachel, in thanks for the hat) which we later identified as belonging to a small feline, most likely a house cat. We located a treasure cart full of metal detritus; I wanted to buy, but consoled myself with pictures instead:







Unfortunately, digging through these treasures, I excavated a bit of cultural toxicity; take note, my fellow Obama supporters-- Racism is not dead:

It's gorgeous. Everything I ever thought it could be. And, it got me an extra day off from work!

Is there some universal rule that all inaugural poems must stink like vomit?

In other news, it's still snowing. 3 inches so far, with a solid sheet of ice underneath-- hence my reprieve from work. It is absolutely beautiful outside.

Doctor's appointment, today. First time anyone has ever actually listened to my medical history and begun to connect the dots with things that have been going on since infancy. Result?

I'm being tested for Rheumatoid Arthritis, Lupus, and a couple of other autoimmune diseases. They're setting me up for a referral to a world-renowned neurologist, noting that the presence of my Type 1 Neurofibromatosis is co-morbid with a battery of other potential disorders as well as coming with its own playchest of rare and potential complications. A likely candidate for the problems I've been dealing with all my life? Osteogenesis Imperfecta.

They want an MRI of my brain, and potentially a PET scan dependent upon certain test results. According to my doctor, this constellation of systems, along with my family history, indicates that something is biologically fucked. It's likely I'm suffering from an as-yet undiagnosed autosomal-dominant genetic disease.

Keep watching Mystery Diagnosis, my friends.
You might just catch a glimpse of me before my anatomy decides to go Deconstructionist.

she is a latte porn starlet, lip glossed and imprinted with an apple logo, the useless tech glow of twitter and myspace glistening over her jellied breasts. tight white t-shirt, navy capri pants, gold glittering from her neck: a clunky class ring on a long chain, the bondage token of some high school romance?

starbucks is strange.

1) Is fast. Much faster than my 5 year-old desktop.
2) Allows me to sit on the living room couch in front of a toasty fire.
3) Dumbass neighbors do not bother to secure their wireless connections.

Etc. Driving on kava is weird. Met Rachel & Austin, went to O'Malleys for pub fare and catching up...

Work still sucks like a nuclear leech.

I just drank an arseload of kava root extract mixed into some blueberry-acai juice. My tongue is numb, and I feel a smile at my lips.

Let's hope this one's interesting.

Yeah.

Did I mention I got a laptop for X-mas?
Score.