Monday, January 31, 2005
Hartfordians of the Week
This week's Hartfordians of the week are
r&b's Jagged Edge:
Why? Why not!
This week's Hartfordians of the week are
r&b's Jagged Edge:
Why? Why not!
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Frequency
I'm reading this Sunday in the frequency series at the Four Faced Liar 165 West Fourth Street (just west of 6th ave). Sunday at 2:30.
Me and Susan Brennan and Douglas Rothschild
Woohoo!
I'm reading this Sunday in the frequency series at the Four Faced Liar 165 West Fourth Street (just west of 6th ave). Sunday at 2:30.
Me and Susan Brennan and Douglas Rothschild
Woohoo!
Monday, January 24, 2005
A New Curse For New England
Even though it's been a couple years since Bob Kraft and the Patriots dashed the hopes of Hartfordites everywhere by not actually moving to Hartford and only pretended they wanted to at all for the sake of getting a new stadium in Foxboro, I'm still pissed. They made us hopeful while they made us a whore. And even though they've won a couple Super Bowls in those years, making this curse a little late in the game, I'm making it anyway. I curse you New England to make it to Super Bowls and not win them for fifty years. I curse you with Buffalo Bills like success. Call it the curse of the Hartford Crack-head. Call it whatever.
Go Eagles!
Even though it's been a couple years since Bob Kraft and the Patriots dashed the hopes of Hartfordites everywhere by not actually moving to Hartford and only pretended they wanted to at all for the sake of getting a new stadium in Foxboro, I'm still pissed. They made us hopeful while they made us a whore. And even though they've won a couple Super Bowls in those years, making this curse a little late in the game, I'm making it anyway. I curse you New England to make it to Super Bowls and not win them for fifty years. I curse you with Buffalo Bills like success. Call it the curse of the Hartford Crack-head. Call it whatever.
Go Eagles!
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Without Demand
Despite no one bothering me to bring it back and some people not remembering I ever had it, I've done it: I again have a wraparound-handlebar mustache. It's a treat.
Despite no one bothering me to bring it back and some people not remembering I ever had it, I've done it: I again have a wraparound-handlebar mustache. It's a treat.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Hartfordian of the Week
For cutting his groin vein open while in jail for throwing sulfuric acid at prositutes, this week's Hartfordian of the Week is a personal favorite of mine:
Horace Wells
Here's to Horace! Slice that shit!
For cutting his groin vein open while in jail for throwing sulfuric acid at prositutes, this week's Hartfordian of the Week is a personal favorite of mine:
Horace Wells
Here's to Horace! Slice that shit!
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Windsor
Let’s go down to the river & smoke some
cigarettes & hide from the professors
paddling in their canoes who don’t swim
because the river’s dirty & it is look
at that mannequin floating there naked
the children will think they have extra-
parts that man comes face up. Trouble
is there’s not trouble enough but that’s
nothing this can of gasoline & that dead
tree can’t fix so now we’ve got a reason
for leaving town & unless the wind keeps
blowing the way it’s been it won’t send
the fire the way we head & we'll be well
down the road before the landfill blows.
Let’s go down to the river & smoke some
cigarettes & hide from the professors
paddling in their canoes who don’t swim
because the river’s dirty & it is look
at that mannequin floating there naked
the children will think they have extra-
parts that man comes face up. Trouble
is there’s not trouble enough but that’s
nothing this can of gasoline & that dead
tree can’t fix so now we’ve got a reason
for leaving town & unless the wind keeps
blowing the way it’s been it won’t send
the fire the way we head & we'll be well
down the road before the landfill blows.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
i have food poisoning.
someoen out ther bring ginger ale and crackers
someoen out ther bring ginger ale and crackers
Monday, January 03, 2005
Birthday Poem
Hartford it’s my birthday.
I am twenty-five & a hundred miles away from you.
I know this is a first for us. I know you
thought we would always spend this day together.
But last year was the worst, Hartford
lonely on the couch with my roommate’s girlfriend who you know I hate
watching cartoon fish & eating Xanex.
I thank you for the Xanex.
The year before that I tried to leave but you
canceled the busses with one of your snow-storms
& punished my trying by making me walk home from the station
the whole time fifty feet behind my mother’s traffic jammed truck.
I thank you for bringing Spencer to the bar that night
& I thank you for all the cheap tequila we had & I thank you for knocking
me down in every front yard on the way home where I made unintentional snow
angels. You are something under snow Hartford.
The year before that I threw up in one of your urinals.
The year before that I threw up in a diner run by Mexicans
& I really scared the Mexicans
& I am a little sorry for that.
But the years before those I can’t see anymore
which is part of this bigger problem I have with this memory I’ve had
with every detail in it of every damn thing that ever happened.
It’s been my comfort, my party trick, my I’m better than you
& well now it’s begun to go away. There’s so much
whizzing, I can’t keep pace
& I’ve tried & I’m tired & Hartford
even though I’m here in the big honking heart of New York
I think I’m staying home today. I might get drunk
& I might hug the television & of course I’m hoping for snow.
Hartford it’s my birthday.
I am twenty-five & a hundred miles away from you.
I know this is a first for us. I know you
thought we would always spend this day together.
But last year was the worst, Hartford
lonely on the couch with my roommate’s girlfriend who you know I hate
watching cartoon fish & eating Xanex.
I thank you for the Xanex.
The year before that I tried to leave but you
canceled the busses with one of your snow-storms
& punished my trying by making me walk home from the station
the whole time fifty feet behind my mother’s traffic jammed truck.
I thank you for bringing Spencer to the bar that night
& I thank you for all the cheap tequila we had & I thank you for knocking
me down in every front yard on the way home where I made unintentional snow
angels. You are something under snow Hartford.
The year before that I threw up in one of your urinals.
The year before that I threw up in a diner run by Mexicans
& I really scared the Mexicans
& I am a little sorry for that.
But the years before those I can’t see anymore
which is part of this bigger problem I have with this memory I’ve had
with every detail in it of every damn thing that ever happened.
It’s been my comfort, my party trick, my I’m better than you
& well now it’s begun to go away. There’s so much
whizzing, I can’t keep pace
& I’ve tried & I’m tired & Hartford
even though I’m here in the big honking heart of New York
I think I’m staying home today. I might get drunk
& I might hug the television & of course I’m hoping for snow.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!
