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bonnie parker

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[04 Aug 2005|12:01pm]
the brand new owner of a chauffer's license and her temporary commerical driver's permit

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you snooze you lose [03 Aug 2005|02:52pm]
but thankfully i've not been snoozing. i feel a bit like i'm losing, but that's just cause time is so crammed of errand like things (moving, painting room, cleaning room, listening to cat meow meow too much at 6am, reading the commerical drivers license booklet *boring*) and not the previous things of summer (volleyball, poetry, swimming, burritos, mosquitos, dancing, gestures, the performative matrix, fantastico).

today i leave work early to go to the secretary of state to take the CDL test!

in case you haven't heard:
i'm quitting my current job to be an a2 public school bus driver!!! (arsenio hall: hoo hoo hoo)

i'm trying to settle in, to get down to some kind of business. it will take a few more days/weeks to feel at home again. i feel a lot of what "home" is lives inside, not inside, but not exclusively.
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i stole it [01 Aug 2005|04:17pm]
pirate bone
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the ability to work in a team environment [05 Jul 2005|10:33pm]
so what have i been doing but working in a team environment, i definitely have the skills for any old job.

i've been doing cut-ups this summer, taking from conversations, books, and my head and adding them all together to make poems.

tonight i saw a great beginning "southern fried chicken in the basket." and what makes this so great?

"the basket." why didn't they write "a basket"? now i have the "th" of the "southern" and the "th" of "the". although this seems absolutely useless, it is what i love and why i write.

my commitment to writing has only increased since being here, i feel more dedicated than ever. i'm looking forward to coming home, not because i want to leave here, but because home will be easier in some ways, there will be more private time.

i swam 3 days in a row in pools and lakes. i saw fireworks in germantown, the best fireworks ever!!! my friends here are delicious.

mortality is forever being brought into focus with my friend's dad in a coma, my mother having been in a coma, etc, etc.

i'm trying to deal with the incomprehensibility of mortality, how we can never reconcile death/ injury/ accident/ surprise of pain and loss, i'm writing in this way that can never be synthesized fully, but then i wonder what else? or as Rit says, to what end?

and is it valid to say because that's what life is? cause it's real and that's the end or the goal? something truthful. but then doesn't that just go back to the old notion that poets are conveyors of "truth" and isn't "truth" always subject to question/ suspicion? and why would i want someone to go through confusion, when we all have to go through it anyway? what if i tried to make an alternative? that would still be life, too. i can't write outside life. that doesn't exist.
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saturday morn [18 May 2005|07:22pm]
on Saturday morning, May 21st, 11am:

A reading of Allen Ginsburg's Howl at the WEMU tent at the Ann Arbor Book Festival (N. University and State St.)

read by Ken Mikolowski, Anna Vitale, Michael Mikolowski, someone else, and maybe Kristi McGuire

So get your groceries and swing by to hear about cocks, cunts, semen, boxcars, and angels
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melting moments [17 May 2005|10:57am]
jason has set up a myspace profile for our band, melting moments.

go check it out, listen to the free mp3s, and enjoy!

we're recording the album as we speak.
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reading and party [03 May 2005|11:51am]
> 328 Catherine proudly presents
> Renee Lucy Evans and Anna Maria Vitale
> starring in:
> A reading of their most recent works and a party to follow
> 10pm sharp the reading will start!!! Friday, May 6 @ 328 Catherine
> Tell your friends
> Bring some friends/ wine/ cheese/ chocolate/ yourself/ ladies/ ladels/
> lollipops/ luck/ likewise
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News In Brief [26 Apr 2005|05:05pm]
National Poetry Month Raises Awareness Of Poetry Prevention

go toward the middle of the page.
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hot hot hot [19 Apr 2005|11:38am]
so i rarely post anymore and it's not cause i'm too busy or anything, i just got real sick of tooting my own horn all the time and usually it wasn't so much tooting as laying on it, i turn inward, keep to myself, try not involve everyone so heavily in my inner life, peace achieved from a looking inward, a private introspection rather than public one.

juice bar bluestone soon
ring ring ring
i'll fix my hair here
see ya when i'm available
yeah when the ladies come home
look carefully at the people
you don't know styrofoam
tits a bit like zombies
dork legs roasted
the grief does not become me
the grief does not become me
nor I
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the diane rehms show [13 Apr 2005|02:28pm]
i got to be on the diane rehms show yesterday! the show was on the future of radio, new technologies, satelliate radio, internet radio, playlists, etc, so i called in and got through, finally!

listen to the last 10 minutes and you can hear me.

i was very excited, bouncing all around work.

and the man we, at work, like to call "mullet man" or "the rocker" is out, sitting in his car in front of amer's listening to his radio, brushing his hair, smoking cigarettes. he is my favorite, i definitely should make a movie about him.
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when work is slow [24 Mar 2005|01:07pm]
so work is just so slow and after having shown several people at work a cheer i remember from the 8th grade (break it down and do the charlie brown, break it on up and do the booty-up), i'm posting the best paragraph the i've read in the past several months.

thank you, kathy acker. you make my head spin.

excerpt from Kathy Acker's Great Expectations:
Everyone hates me. My mother may have been murdered. Men want to rape me. My body's always sick. The world is paradise. Pain doesn't exist. Pain comes from askew human perceptions. A person's happy who doesn't give attention to her own desires but always thinks of others. Repressing causes pain. I have no one in this world. Every event is totally separate from every other event. If there are an infinite number of non-relating events, where's the relation that enables pain?

All of my family is dead. I have no way of knowing who means me harm and who doesn't.


Can you imagine reading 120 pages of this? I'm trying to think of what it would be like to write 120 pages of this. Or what it would be like to write 120 pages of what I've been writing lately . . . maybe I'll share that another day.
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[31 Jan 2005|06:31pm]
i thought i'd update just as to not lost the journal.

i went to taipei and had a great time, now i have really bad jet lag, like so bad i've never been so tired, ever! crazy!

but it was worth it like coagulated pig's blood and cindy.
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[04 Nov 2004|11:14am]
time to get to work.
time to give me what i need.
i can't wait around
for something to drop from the sky.

this weekend is the 40th anniversary of the detroit artists workshop from the cass corridor and ed sanders, amiri baraka and others will be reading. these folks are my artistic grandparents. i plan to write and listen to lots of writing this weekend and eat some tasty food. nothing more! it's all i want!

and that makes me think of the bauhaus song:
all we ever wanted was everything
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[03 Nov 2004|10:06am]
people are concerned about the election. all i can think of is my mother. two and a half weeks ago she was campaigning vehemently for nader. she can only move her left foot and her left arm. she doesn't understand anything i say. i don't even know what she sees when she looks at me.

i know what i see when i look at her. a woman with a beautiful mind that right now is swollen so that she can't know herself or the world around her.

this is what makes this day sad for me. this is what's unfair in my life.
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[10 Jun 2004|03:54pm]
[ mood | excited ]

met with leslie scalapino today about my work and it went really well. she understands my work in a way i haven't before and that's the most useful.

i don't know why i got so carried away with the idea that an autobiographical project was an illegitmate one. people do them all the time. and of course that's what all art is, in one form or another.

things are going great. i talked to _______ on the phone last night. and then cried. and it was the most necessary thing that has happened since i've gotten here. and i'm feeling much better.

the only bar around is in a town called tivoli and the name of the bar is the black swan and we went there last night. and a music student got very drunk and threw up pasta. i drove home through fog and whiskey and beer.

everyone is very sweet and sexy, kind and a bit frightened.

art art art, that's all that going on.

love to ace deuce from the hudson valley.

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in the hudson valley [30 May 2004|09:29pm]
bought 2 pairs of earrings yesterday in brooklyn at some kind of african festival. we wanted to eat ribs, but we couldn't find any, so we had some mediocre cambodian food.

i went to the whitney biennial and that was mediocre, too! many many people and art that did not move me except for quickly out of the rooms. a cool website was on display though and you all should check it out if you need/want/must do something creative.

learning to love you more

also saw good drawings (that reminded me of egon schiele paintings) and a good film by a woman named chloe piene. her film was a thin white woman in a contextless kind of space, black background, in a tank-top and underwear covered in something. eventually it becomes clear it is most likely mud and that she is in the woods. the sound is a deep long drone of a growl and it's pretty frightening and exciting.

had a great time traveling with jordan. only wish she was still here to catch me when i fall.

but she's not, so . . .
i just won't fall!
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[25 May 2004|10:36am]
[ mood | sick ]

three girls sat in folding chairs along the wall. lazily resting their heads on each other's shoulders, they listened to the jackson five. swinging their feet. pink bows on their shoes.

some woman shouting from a balcony i'm ashamed.

she's sorry she ruined everything, i'm sure

but i don't care

i don't give a fuck

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find what you need [24 May 2004|01:12pm]
[ mood | you can't always ]

sometimes i don't want there to be a picture associated with me. or i need more options, more faces than just the ones here.

i'm selling a record that gabe gave me. the holiday in cambodia/ police truck 12". he told me at the time it was worth $100. but i think it's only worth about $10. it's sweet to think of him and sour, too, of course.

as i move forward, leaving more and more people from my past behind i reach out to hold on. their faces their faces --

it's all i can do to remember myself and how lucky i have been and continue to be

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a sample of what i did with 45 index cards at work [20 May 2004|02:21pm]
almost blew away from me
the white card with your number
the kind of shoes you wear
your perfume
your perfume


looking out the window
a biker goes left a woman
jumps to her death
lounge music comes one
c'mon. let's dance together!


. . .


i can't wait to touch you
i never will
your skin old as dirt
i bet it's nice
i bet you're nice


the music stops
then begins
i put my feet up on your blue
lick my toes
suck my pussy
what does that have to do with love?


each one is short, the length
of a pubic hair
shit in your mouth
you drank too much.
don't worry
we still love you


. . .


the minutes go by too fast
for us. i've never
gotten to know you.
i don't want to
it'll ruin everything


from the series one card for every minute we are together today: forty-five index cards with forty-five poems for forty-five minutes
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[17 May 2004|11:16am]
so, who's got a good recipe for sangria?
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