"this is a hold up.
don't reach for your wallet.
reach for me.
i don't want your money.
i want your love.
every artist does.
we want to be adored
until we walk funny with it,
until we stagger with greatness
dumb with it drunk with it
sick it out in a puddle on our shoes.
we want to be adored and we
want it bad.
we want it bad like sex
breathless only all the time
in a bang so big it knocks us cold
like americans want money we
want it
we're wilde-eyed boys on jazz
we're ugly with it
like the asthmatic wants air
we want it
bad.
and we get mean when we're disappointed.
mean like valerie solanis
who wanted warhol
to take her picture
not her bullet.
mean like john wayne gacy
who wanted a gallery exhibit
and a house of kept boys
not exhibits a, b, c, and d
of boys kept under the house
apocalypse mean
like the austrian death machine
with the paintbrush mustache
who couldn't get into art school
and went into politics
how everything everything
everythingeverythingeverything
could have been different
we want love
and we want it
ugly bad.
do what i say
and nobody gets hurt.
adore this poem.
there's no telling what might happen otherwise."
-Daphne Gottlieb, the hottest most fierce poetess in the bay
I am in complete awe of Daphne Gottlieb, her performances were mad crazy good and I want my poetry to lean more in her direction.
Holy fuck, mates. I just got back from watching 12 HOURS of 64 WOMEN read their poetry. It was cathartic, it was inspiring, it was diverse and it was so fucking beautiful. Every woman had a different story to tell and a different way of saying it, and I didn't even mention the fact that 75% of the attendees were the hottest women i'd ever seen. It was like a prerequisite that you had to be funny, hot, and attractive to enter the building. The hottest poetess, DESSA DARLING came up to me when I was eating a bagel outside, checked me out and said "Hi" and then I think I muttered Hi back and scuttled away with my bagel. I cursed the fates. Everytime I walked past her i'd see her look at me and think of how I blew the deal; she was way too hot for me to say a thing. Lola saw her and we were both marvelling at how supermodel pretty she was. One cool think about Lola is we have the exact same taste in girls and it's really easy to pick one out in a crowd and talk about her; i've never met another chick with the same taste as me before. Althought Dessa Darling was entirely too hot for anybody's good, Lola still took the cake for hottest chick in the place. She was so funny, she made a fake performance art piece during the snack break whereby she would smack the side of her ass repeatedly and yell her name. It ruled. I saw one of the other performers watching her and cracking up hysterically.
I focused on what has been bothering me about my writing lately. You see, I used to write Romanticist poetry or stories with complex English type of sentence structure. Now, I find my poetry and stories becoming more modern and comedic; i've noticed that it's branching off in an entirely different direction than the way it's been going the past 6 years. I seem to be writing less and less about mythology or magical realism and more on how "we could all save money by not buying bras and just sticking band-aids on our nipples." It's hard because this new style actually has more of my authentic voice, is more marketable and more appealing to an audience, but romanticist poetry helps me dream more and takes me to a different fairy-tale plane of thought. I can't combine the two, and I don't really want to choose one, so it seems like both genres are suffering.
On a brighter note, i've decided to fuck all convention. I have one completed book of 100 pages of poetry (80 after editing) called "Lipstick Anarchy." I wrote feverishly the first 6 months I came out as a self-proclaimed bisexual and how I was dealing with everything, how I was trying to search for lesbian hangouts on my own because I wanted to know more. Sometimes its painful and sometimes it's REALLY funny. Hell, i'm sending it to a publisher.
don't reach for your wallet.
reach for me.
i don't want your money.
i want your love.
every artist does.
we want to be adored
until we walk funny with it,
until we stagger with greatness
dumb with it drunk with it
sick it out in a puddle on our shoes.
we want to be adored and we
want it bad.
we want it bad like sex
breathless only all the time
in a bang so big it knocks us cold
like americans want money we
want it
we're wilde-eyed boys on jazz
we're ugly with it
like the asthmatic wants air
we want it
bad.
and we get mean when we're disappointed.
mean like valerie solanis
who wanted warhol
to take her picture
not her bullet.
mean like john wayne gacy
who wanted a gallery exhibit
and a house of kept boys
not exhibits a, b, c, and d
of boys kept under the house
apocalypse mean
like the austrian death machine
with the paintbrush mustache
who couldn't get into art school
and went into politics
how everything everything
everythingeverythingeverything
could have been different
we want love
and we want it
ugly bad.
do what i say
and nobody gets hurt.
adore this poem.
there's no telling what might happen otherwise."
-Daphne Gottlieb, the hottest most fierce poetess in the bay
I am in complete awe of Daphne Gottlieb, her performances were mad crazy good and I want my poetry to lean more in her direction.
Holy fuck, mates. I just got back from watching 12 HOURS of 64 WOMEN read their poetry. It was cathartic, it was inspiring, it was diverse and it was so fucking beautiful. Every woman had a different story to tell and a different way of saying it, and I didn't even mention the fact that 75% of the attendees were the hottest women i'd ever seen. It was like a prerequisite that you had to be funny, hot, and attractive to enter the building. The hottest poetess, DESSA DARLING came up to me when I was eating a bagel outside, checked me out and said "Hi" and then I think I muttered Hi back and scuttled away with my bagel. I cursed the fates. Everytime I walked past her i'd see her look at me and think of how I blew the deal; she was way too hot for me to say a thing. Lola saw her and we were both marvelling at how supermodel pretty she was. One cool think about Lola is we have the exact same taste in girls and it's really easy to pick one out in a crowd and talk about her; i've never met another chick with the same taste as me before. Althought Dessa Darling was entirely too hot for anybody's good, Lola still took the cake for hottest chick in the place. She was so funny, she made a fake performance art piece during the snack break whereby she would smack the side of her ass repeatedly and yell her name. It ruled. I saw one of the other performers watching her and cracking up hysterically.
I focused on what has been bothering me about my writing lately. You see, I used to write Romanticist poetry or stories with complex English type of sentence structure. Now, I find my poetry and stories becoming more modern and comedic; i've noticed that it's branching off in an entirely different direction than the way it's been going the past 6 years. I seem to be writing less and less about mythology or magical realism and more on how "we could all save money by not buying bras and just sticking band-aids on our nipples." It's hard because this new style actually has more of my authentic voice, is more marketable and more appealing to an audience, but romanticist poetry helps me dream more and takes me to a different fairy-tale plane of thought. I can't combine the two, and I don't really want to choose one, so it seems like both genres are suffering.
On a brighter note, i've decided to fuck all convention. I have one completed book of 100 pages of poetry (80 after editing) called "Lipstick Anarchy." I wrote feverishly the first 6 months I came out as a self-proclaimed bisexual and how I was dealing with everything, how I was trying to search for lesbian hangouts on my own because I wanted to know more. Sometimes its painful and sometimes it's REALLY funny. Hell, i'm sending it to a publisher.
ohh & cool poem