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...and they lived happily ever after. Smith & Lady: poets, artists, photographers & adventurers.
Our relationship was forged to the soundtrack of Yoko Ono's magic,
frenetic, love-laden song, "Walking On Thin Ice." ( play song )
 
   
 
 

Archive for April, 2010

how to masturbate

Saturday, April 17th, 2010

How to Masturbate

 

how to make a baby

Friday, April 16th, 2010

How to Make a Baby

 

sexless sexual disease

Thursday, April 15th, 2010

sexless STD – foto by Smith

Been being attacked by this malware announcement when I sign onto MySpace:

? Warning!
Your computer contains various signs of viruses and malware programs presence.
Your system requires immediate antiviruses check!System Security will perform
a quick and free online checking of your PC for viruses and worms.

(The improper grammar and spacing are the malware’s).

Besides sounding like English is not the author’s first language, this message disables your ability to close either the MySpace session window or the message box.

If you click CANCEL in the malware message box, it starts downloading crap onto your computer and the only way to stop the download is to unplug your computer and take the battery out of the laptop so it crashes.

If you don’t click on it, the only way out is to RESTART your computer.

I’ve only been hit with this particular malware message while on MySpace, and it attacks me a couple times a week every frigging week. You’d think a company with MySpace’s money would do a better job of keeping its customers safe — but then what am I thinking: this is MySpace after all who don’t seem to care much for the likes, dislikes, needs, wants and safety of its customers. In fact I sometimes think MySpace is just a twisted Nazi experiment by the CIA’s el sicko psychoitrists.

As this “Malware delivered by Yahoo, Fox, Google ads” article points out — news.cnet.com/8301-27080_3-20000898-245.html“Users don’t need to click on anything to get infected; a computer becomes infected after the ad is loaded by the browser, Avast said . . . The most compromised ad delivery platforms were Yield Manager and Fimserve, but a number of smaller ad systems, including MySpace, were also found to be delivering malware on a lesser scale, Avast Virus Labs said.

Even worse yesterday my laptop got hit with the “Antispyvirus Vista” malware which floods your computer screen with scary attack warnings about infected computers and crashing systems and won’t even let you go online via the Internet Explorer or Firefox browsers to research how to fix it unless you agree to buy their malware fix program (however the Chrome browser still worked). It also disables your malware scans. This one was much scarier because we had to go online to research it and then manually go in and change the values of the program registry to get rid of it (which we did, thanks to Lady K’s expertise).

I yearn for the relative safety of the old online days when you actually had to click on something to be infected – this new batch of viruses is more akin to catching syphilis without sexual contact – where’s the fun in that?

Although I did catch crabs once without having intercourse — I slept nude and bathed with a woman who I didn’t know had crabs and they crawled over onto me in the night and made my life hell for a week. I shaved my pubes and bathed to no avail. Finally had to buy some horrid goop to wash myself and my sheets with.

And I was lucky I got crabs from her without sex because I found out later she had herpes so I would have been doubly damaged had we interfaced genitals.


virus – foto by Smith

 

one way or the rudder

Wednesday, April 14th, 2010

Criminal (test copy) – foto by Smith

Finally finished final edit of book. Took us three years and 23 rewrites. Up until now I had a secret fear the book was not worthy because it kept breaking down, failing here and there. But finally got it all to flow – by the end you want to keep going.

As it says on page 314, “This book exists thanks to Lady. When she first moved in, I started telling her my stories, and she immediately began writing them down. After I ran out of obvious stories, she’d sit down next to me with her laptop and say “Tell me a story.” When that ran down, she started interviewing me to fill in the gaps. She took the twenty true stories I’d written previously and wove them into the manuscript. She also interviewed a few of my friends, then made it all as chronological as possible. After she got it into order, we passed the book back and forth two dozen times, each adding, changing, editing, deleting.”

Criminal
A True Tale of
Armed Robbery, Stolen Cars, Alternative Art, Mainstream Poetry,
Underground Publishing, Robbing the Cradle, and Leaving the Country

by Smith & Lady

3 years writing
60 years of life
=
one book
52 chapters
326 pages
2,448 paragraphs
11,323 lines
103,428 words
112,384 spaces
444,857 characters
pride
&
satisfaction
with a modicum of hope

Now onto the letter of inquiry to the literary agents; then rewriting the non-fiction proposal that has to exist even though the book is already written; and reading Jeff Herman’s Guide To Book Publishers, Editors, & Literary Agents 2010.

To promote the book, Lady frequently reads from it, rather effectively and to robust reaction. One armed robbery and one prison story have appeared in the first two issues of The Delinquent magazine in London, England, while Troubadour21.com/author/smith published five of the robbery and prison chapters of the book. So I know there’s interest, just need to find the connection.

Figure rest of year getting agent, more time for publisher, more time to publish. If reality doesn’t flow right or well, we’ll self publish.

One way or the rudder.


out of the past – foto by Smith

 

unfortunate cookies

Tuesday, April 13th, 2010

three ways – foto by Smith

Wrote around 150 haiku this year, blogged maybe 120. Here are a few of the better remainder. Didn’t blog these before because they are so bloody negative, with but a hint of sunshine peeking through the dark. I have been trying to be more upbeat in my blogs lately, which rather flies in the face of the reality I blog within.

Unfortunate Cookies

Much monkey business
Not enough mathematics
Many flat-earthers

Sky and Earth gave birth
to Time, which sired sorrow
Now is pain of then

The fairy tale
of the bristle and the thread
The dew or the dead

The day lays heavy
Hot thick bitter musk of man
soaked in broken plan

I swim in loose lies
my own, as well as others
All speak in forked tongue

Quantum mechanics
says you see what you look for
affect what you find

Seasons sift and slide
cold sidewalk of slow night talk
warm in light of day

Just which me am I
There are many me’s within
Mini mutant me’s

Big bad mood monster
watching in the wings waiting
for me to be home

When one awakens
and last night’s dread yet remains
it bites the big one

Bad is bad is bad
yet still the mind looks for good
to lighten the way

On dark earth of greed
I seek for higher fire
a more gentle seed

Fair is as fair does
Greed bleeds both body, spirit
as it hunts the heart

Lost in the shuffle
somewhere in the overhead
Thought saved for later

Looking for new path
But it is the it it is
and it must be walked


detail from Mother Dwarf collage Spirit Catcher – foto by Smith

 

image to word

Monday, April 12th, 2010
I wrote haiku for two of my collages. The first one is the most cut & dried collage I’ve done meaning-wise.

Young gorgeous girl
Beauty brief as butterfly
Looking old so soon

I’m going to start a company called Portable Crime Scene — here’s our card:


Portable Crime Scene:
Tell us where you want the crime
And I’ll go do it

 

watching the whorl wend

Sunday, April 11th, 2010

window walk – foto by Smith

No emails this morning, not even spam. What does it say when you aren’t even important enough for spam?

And yet I am important. I can turn wine into water. I can also turn beer, hard liquor, tea, coffee, and milk into water. I even turn Cleveland tap water into water. I’m a regular piss and shit machine.

Of course for the sake of the planet, my city, my neighborhood, my friends, my self and my body, I no longer turn alcohol into water — in ten days I will start my twentieth year sober.

A friend recently told me he and everyone else was surprised when I quit drinking. They all figured I’d stop for a week or a month or two since I’d almost died drinking myself to death and then I’d dive right back into the alcohol pool.

Well, I may still dive back in one of these days, especially since the world is being quickly worn down around the edges by humans and soon darkness will follow dawn, but my 19 years of no alcohol is too hard-won a record to just casually give up. Haven’t been to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in twenty years due to cigarette smoke and bad cookies, but imagine how impressed they’d be with my run.

Of course the main thing I took away from my single Alcoholics Anonymous meeting back in 1990 was how all these small, gray, unhappy people would get up in front of the group and suddenly blossom in happiness and joy as they told tales of how wild and crazy and stupid and destructive their lives used to be when drinking and how really they are much happier now sober when they only come alive and seem happy while telling of their past excess. It’s obvious they miss their former crazy nightmare out-of-control life. A.A. meetings seemed essentially a contest where they all got up and claimed to be crazier and more out of control than the previous speaker.

Humans are such a weird dysfunctional life form. We destroy ourselves and undermine our own happiness, mistreat the friends and neighbors and strangers around us, and have spent the past 100,000 years eating ourselves out of house and home planet-wise, shitting in our own nest, pissing in our own water.

Humans don’t seem to like ourselves very much as a race–which makes sense since we are involved in a race war, as well as class war and gender war, and of course the truth war between the neo-con flat-earthers and the educated.

Really, would you want your daughter to marry a human?


the day of the dread – foto by Smith

 

slow cat turning into sun

Saturday, April 10th, 2010

Voila, my latest haiku — although it’s a line too long, two syllables too short, and probably not a haiku anyway but more likely a senryÅ« according to the Haiku Police.

Feline Fine

My kitty couch cat
Knows where it’s at
Flat on her back
Charming

But then you all know what I think of the Haiku Police – they can home their censor radar in on this middle finger transmission.

The Haiku Police

High Haiku honchos
say no man, only nature
may play in their way

Such academics
in ossified artery
live rule, lag in life

They say senryū
is what I do, not haiku
no matter my mew

Then the Senryū
sentries say stay back, go way
we don’t want your play

Beware the fixed minds
and the unwiped assets of
the Haiku Police





slow cat turning into sun – fotos by Smith

 

water me well

Friday, April 9th, 2010

Water Me Well cover art by Bree – foto by Smith

I have two poems — Are Fish Psyquatic? and Plant Shepherd — in Water Me Well, a limited edition of 50 chapbooks just published by Green Panda Press.

This is part of an effort to raise money and awareness for Isaac’s Wells, a project to provide clean drinking water for African villages.

Water Me Well also includes work by Ron Antonucci, Diane Borsenik, Bree, John Burroughs, Kevin Eberhardt, John Harmon, Richard Krech, Tom Kriss, Mark Kuhar, Geoffrey Landis, d.a. levy, Kenneth Patchen, Ray F Tomorrowitz and Beverly J. Wilcox.

Info on Isaac’s Wells: http://isaacswells.webs.com.

Green Panda Press is founded, published and edited by Bree: http://greenpandapress.blogspot.com.

Bree is also one of 13 guest artists/poets on AgentOfChaos.com – check out samples of her poetry and 26 Green Panda Press books from 2002 through 2006 at agentofchaos.com/bree/index.html.

~ ~ ~

Are Fish Psyquatic?

Water Gods are all wet
Water Gods are big drips
Water Gods have plumbers for devils
Water Gods are fun to sleep with when heated
Water Gods are wishy washy
Thou shalt have no other Chlorinations before me
Some Gods are afraid to come out of the water closet
God drops keep falling on my dead
God’s evaporated
Water Gods have wet dreams
Water Gods don’t no enough to come in out of the reign
Water Gods mist the ship

~ ~ ~

Plant Shepherd

I water 3 plants at work

Just now went to each, thrust
My fingers through their leaves
Into their soil to check for moistness

And flashed on this morning
You on your stomach
My fingers deep
Sampling your wetness

None of these need water

Though I may need to sample you more
To see your need
So I’ve made an appointment
For you to be closely examined
Tomorrow after work in my sanctuary
In the Church of Not Quite So Much Pain & Suffering

~ ~ ~


cover art part 2 Water Me Well – foto by Smith

 

have hammer, will travel

Thursday, April 8th, 2010

white hole – foto by Smith

We’ve been starting the car every morning these past five days to make sure we still could. Don’t go anywhere because if we actually drive the car, once we turn it off, it won’t start again until the next day. So we just go out, start it, come back in and say “It started.” Makes us feel like we have options.

Today we were actually going to drive it. The plan was I’d take Lady out to her client site so she could train someone and I’d come back and drop the car off at the repair shop to get it fixed.

Only it wouldn’t start this morning. Of course it wouldn’t start — our life is one of those random acted discontinuous road trip movies and in the movies you know darn well if the car’s needed, it ain’t gonna start: it’s a plot device to drive up drama (which it did).

Called the mechanic and he suggested I go out and hit the starter with a hammer. Told him I didn’t know what a starter looked like or where it was located, but I went out anyway and lightly tapped a couple odd looking units here and there, got in the car, and it started. Turned it off, turned it back on, and it started again.

Came back up, got Lady, took her to work, dropped the car off at the mechanic, walked home, drew a hot bath, and soaked in successful silence.

Once small victory for the peasants.

On the walk home I was carrying the hammer I’d used to start the car, along with a copy of Sartre’s Nausea I’m rereading I’d brought along in case the car died and I got stranded. I stopped to get a candy bar and wondered as I walked in if they would find my having a hammer threatening. As I lay the hammer on the counter next to Sartre and the candy bar, the clerk said, “Cool hammer. I need to get me one like that.”


slinky – foto by Smith

 

 
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