​8/17 - at The Nest, with Frank Hurricane, hover, Heavy Pauses, Rolf Nadir, Emily Thornton:

​teenagers
chewing the flocked cubicle barracks
defy the addiction ritual tax
tortoise shell righteous anger
and a bright silk shirt to wear

lemon announces the expensive environment
another lifestyle habit smudged
and cheerfully judged
another anti-social aspect
1 bump in half to share

I decided to post the color
channelling an outrageous type
smeary dusting the lysol wipe
I revile the water cooler
deferred despair

understand what I know
deodorant reinforces hot down
memory impersonates talent
ebullience nudges secrecy open
edging the smug prayer

an emotionally-sealed facade
envelopes the cute moment
something was a joke
establishing shot
establishing the desperate like the needy share

my guilty
for instance
and reading satisfies my performance
splashing the silly symphony
the humming fun machine warbles hysterical

going to work
generational shaming
another punishing encounter to sublimate
I recognize the dreaming surface texture
I describe the harsh scenery carelessly

as if every plan opens
what a normal coat comforts
dazzling colors
the sticky intersection
I am of the empty life and downstairs

extravagance suggests the off-menu alphabet
internal orange soup steam
pollutes the fuzzy small business strategy
journaling about it
the lurid memoir

overhead walking overheard
holding the door for distance approaching
crushes my alone-in-public routine
motion lights the running bird
legume lagoon adjoins the salsa barrel

instant gratification
alcohol would wind the blaring clock
monday's torrential hailstorm walk
squished the humid weather cushion
and upended one ned lips banner

I tell the truth about my work I think
the dining family often regards me
spare and angry
in the dream I notice a red blister ring
the shell is the pistachio mother

flagging the codependence posting
around an heirloom friendship bracelet
grownups dramatize secondhand cravings
I regard my own emotions
irresistibly embarrassed

or a less gory rendition
panting smudges the focus
the unruly anecdote
divulges
cognitive squalor

stinky itching the serotonin fix
sugar-free sparkling yerba mate settles
can I speak to susan winters hettel
all along the internet
mumbling the lyrics

innocuous
burps the skittish bystander
above the anxious encounter
suspicion cranks the rusty faucet
there there

there is truth to any comparison
but some examples
obscure understanding
the floppy pillow
disguises the turquoise chair

within the family story
I absorb a doomy
feeling
sugar swabs the sawdust floor
spiders hump the dusty ceiling
I am like the wayward parrot  

_________________________________________________________________

3/9 - MEMPHIS, TN: at Lamplighter Lounge, with ​Sloopy McCoy, Chuck Vicious

2/2 - at El Lenador, with Cranky Yellow, Microgreens, Sloopy McCoy:

​2119 AD

Comedy shrugs the hangman's knot.
Soggy fruit salad charisma.
Let these dust bunnies bear witness to
the idle hands coincidence.

Let this tourist with sagging butt,
whose crow brain loves compression socks -
let this human Coppertone offering
ward-off catastrophic floods.

Typical artist: frame your blood-
stain, nuzzle an orange rind.
Find a seashell, listen with your better ear.
Hear the squealing tape rewind.

Greedy babies scream, "Make mine diamond mine!"
They swap franchise pizzerias.
Fur-lined diapers complement
glistening No Tears bubble bath beards.

Spring Collection: dog-tags and horseshoes,
spun shower drain strands for loose knit shawls.
Call me Moon Jellyfish when I'm blue.
Call me Mole Rat when I'm bald.

My kind of rodent calls in the morning,
knows how many light-bulbs it takes to screw.
You, who sabotage every trust fall -
Dr. Leering Pigeon, I presume?.

I know that barely-eagle grin.
I use my outside voice... inside.
I suck helium from balloons
and nitrous oxide from whipped cream nozzles.

The snot bubble hugs the nostril. The button
fills the buttonhole completely.
The mountains fix the firmament.
The seeing-eye dog's eyes see

through white haze, beneath the cotton-ball sun,
beyond time, beyond the edge of fear -
a bird's eye, worm's eye and inner-eye sight,
pop-up cross-section reveal.

You make water while the dog watches.
Please don't pet me, I'm a real piece of work.
Please don't pet me, I'm working the weight off.
Please don't wake me, I'm working.

Please don't make me acknowledge failure
hardly inspires confidence.
Consider the unofficial fansite.
Trust your heroic instinct.

Follow wavy lines for toxic fumes.
I'm Johnny-On-The-Spot, wherever
I am. I'm the center of attention -
eye-catching, like Day-Glo vomit.

I represent uncertain views,
I fall for lukewarm ideas,
I'm a glutton for ambivalence
and I shrink from meaning.

I costume doubt in second person,
embrace accusation.
How does it feel? is a sinister medicine.
Chamomile with bugs in it.

Frozen silverfish in an ice cube.
Draw the blinds when it gets violent
out there. Draw a steaming bath when it happens.
Wake me up when the water gets hotter.

​​_________________________________________________________________​​​
1/12 - at El Lenador, with Peter Redgrave, Kevin Harris, HushGush:​

if obedience is its own reward

if I never see the sun again

I can lick adhesive off the landlord’s door

or luxuriate like the fattest fly

with compound eyes glowing black

if I never get out of this world alive

if I never make it back

I can snap two gloves on

and scour the corroded hole

my lungs will heave for three days

my breath will smolder like rotten kindling

like deferred anger sometimes

the last time

stoke an old grudge

then shovel it ten minutes later

take the second right

sometimes the third

roll the filthy window up the access road

3/8 - CHICAGO, IL: OCAD Benefit, at ​Charm School

2/22 - at Kismet, with Dana Sipos, Dee Bird, Kaleb Kirby:

1.

Frog in Winter

When you wish upon a frog,
make him look you in the eye.
Ask him what's his drug of choice.
Ask him in your inside voice.

When the stars are in the sky
and you pass your toxic bog,
think about the frog you know
huddled with his brood.

When your frog is in the nude,
don't forget to shield your eyes.
Witnessing the total frog
would devastate your ego.

When the ugly melting snow
floods the toxic pool,
every beer can buoy is a jewel,
every secret creature is a frog.

So cross your heart and hope to die.
Cross your eyes and hold your hope.
Toast the frog of loneliness
when winter eats you hollow.

All your dreams are stupid.
Face the sappy music.
Close your puffy eyes
and hitch your wagon to a frog.

2.

The Boat Story

We were walking at night. It only turned into night when the sun went down. We tried to use it, but used it incorrectly. It would take months to master the technique. We tried again in February after the show. You thought my performance was boring. I saw an evil man sleeping in the southwest corner of the sticky venue. I recognized his stupid anchor tattoo, that was how I identified him. He ran an Americana booking group. Years ago, he would find me. He would ask to hear the boat story. First he would order a round. I never saw him drink his drink. Sometimes he would dip his long fingers into his full glass. 

The End

With a different man, a different time, I saw in the small mirror. I remember I suggested him. I think this was the first time I saw him from the front. It must have been close to 4am. It would be perfect: he seemed young and insecure. That evening I would buy a dozen samosas to share at the loft. I would describe myself as suggestible, then I would wait for him to react. I would even wait all night. He would be reading the list of bands. I would seem laid-back and indecisive. I often used to mention language. Later he would describe traveling. I would demonstrate my ability to agree. But they had chosen someone else - I had been daydreaming - and when I realized that I no longer had a use for him, I became serious and sullen. I walked out into traffic. He was fairly drunk, so I imagine he does not remember how it happened. I wanted to feel like the main character for once.

His Voice

I am not interesting enough to excuse. You liked his voice and his eyes. You envied his expensive look. We wanted the full band but would settle for the trio. I wanted you to explain me to him while I ate the donuts: I thought he would listen to you. When he spoke, he used that honed, smoky voice you loved. I couldn’t listen. That was before I closed myself off. It was before I discovered emotional distance. Remember, I also had an experience with his voice - it was at another show. In many years, maybe I will only remember his voice; if I try to think back on this time, the echo of his voice will supersede all images. Listen to remember.

No Thank You

We obeyed the cheesy marketing, we were active. I finished my coffee and you held a small crystal under your tongue. We laughed together and shared effusive, overlapping sentences. You put your head in the clouds. This was your surefire excuse, your gimmick. You said I reminded you of something, but you could not remember what. You wanted to seem at once attentive and aloof. I couldn’t decide whether I should feel insulted - you did want me to know that I crossed your mind. Why do I want to describe my discomfort? I knew our dwindling supply would dissipate. I did not want to seem greedy, so I wore my most generous face. Unfortunately I must not have used enough tape. You know now: no body is perfect.

The Old Neighborhood

Decades ago, I haunted this intersection. Desolate streets and potholes. Merry mentioned the tour would soon end. Merry was still the tour guide, though by this point he was more invested in texting you than leading the tour. I already regretted suggesting you. Does it help if I say that? He wanted you to perform. I hated his stage whisper body language. Mostly I was trying to remember how it used to be. Merry wanted me to explain where I knew you from. Later at his fancy apartment, the three of us ate chips out of a bowl. I can admit this now: I did not want to share. Was this the night we went to the party? I overheard you criticize my self-serving dishonesty. You confided in him - Merry, the tour guide. I was looking for the bathroom. Maybe something in the bathroom would hold my interest. Or I could watch couples flirt out on the veranda. Eventually we needed to leave. I saw an angry bird reprimanding Merry. You were laughing. I recognized the bird, actually. I recognized him from the meetings I go to - bird meetings. I panicked and flew away. I did not want him to associate me with you or Merry or any kind of dumb spectacle.

Sabotage

In Kentucky, this Justin described a new romance, and this seemed to imply an end of sorts to your designs. Talking to a certain man worried you. Your new love interest inhabited the same seedy milieu as this man and this Justin. I know they kept their bags stacked together during rehearsal. I thought one song had a melody which may have inspired their behavior - the behavior I witnessed. You suggested I try to drive a wedge between them - this Justin, your new love interest, and the man who worried you - but I thought three was too many to wedge between. “This Justin shares your passion for absurd demands,” I reminded you. “He may prove a more eager accomplice.” 

Three Men

Three men were drinking outside the show. One asked another if he thought it would start on time. The third man burped on purpose. The first man said he didn’t want to pay the cover, he was mostly looking for friendship. The third man offered to host the other two at his apartment in the same neighborhood; at his apartment they could choose what music to listen to. The other two accepted his offer. They did not know his unsavory reputation. I wish I could have warned them. When they arrived at their destination, the two guests both noticed a strange smell coming from the kitchen. The sun was rising outside. When they told me this story - weeks later at ‘90s night - I told them it confused me. It was something about how time passed in the story. I could not imagine a comparable experience. Also I wondered about the relationship between these two men: were they brothers or just brothers in arms? Had they always resembled each other? 

The Window

At the festival we admired bells in a tent - a collection of ornamental bells. We said she could use us if she could not find anyone else. She said she thought we had potential. We pretended to understand. We never thought of it as a career. She offered us marijuana. I thought within a couple weeks you would change your Facebook relationship status - you two, together. I remember driving home alone listening to ABBA. And maybe I was worried about her health. If she was struggling, you saved her. Even though the show itself was poorly attended, she seemed to take you seriously, and I liked that. The next time I saw you - you two - she tried to initiate a heart-to-heart. You were on the phone. When I told her I admired how your relationship had flowered, she laughed. She told me you broke up on the way to the show, that it happened in the car. Could she be joking? When the local support started, you were still on the phone, so she and I sat watching the loud music in silence. I could tell you were angry. You were outside, but I could see you through the storefront window. How can I explain? Maybe I wanted to seem reckless, or maybe I wanted to stand in solidarity with you. Obviously I miscalculated. I wonder if you ever think of me. I know I think of you looking at the bells.
​_________________________________________________________________
2017:

11/30 - Bruxism 30 at Schlafly Tap Room:

1.

          Matthew described the ketchup, about refilling the ketchup. Maybe I adjusted my ponytail. I could have stayed warmer with a warmer coat, but not warmer than Matthew. I ran back outside, seething angry - my righteous indignation performance. I assumed Matthew was waiting for me inside, but I was wrong. 
          When I got to the station, I waited. I made a special promise to myself - an earnest bargain. Cloak-and-dagger fantasies strained my weak composure. My coat rode up as I stood, noticing coffee - the coffee in my hand was working, was warm enough and wet. I did not have to sprint like I did. 
          See clear through, I reminded myself. Remember this. 
          Once again confident, I jumped the corner across the crosswalk, fixed my blue hood and considered the trash. 
          Later I caught myself looking in the garage, looking for extra. I had overflowed. I tried to hold my tongue in. 
​          Is this another condescending presentation? Let me finish. 
​          I did not know how cold it was - it was cold. I left shortly after 4:00 and I wrote it down after. I checked Weather.com and tried to decide where to stop at - which hospital. Sharing garbage is strange. I tried not to let this weigh me down. Imagine garbage running down your face or dripping through your hair. 
​          At 10:00 I caught the westbound train, within which I laced my shoes. Night chilled me, like the warm sun can kiss you, can stifle the urge to listen to the automated answer. 
​          One week earlier, I bought a computer at Pawn King. 
​          No, that was even three years ago. 
​          I lose my way. 
​          I lost time where I peed, where I considered buying a plastic necklace - near the self-service kiosk. 
​          You asked once about my selection, my sweet tooth. When I answered, did I mention addiction? I like to, though I am also ashamed, just so you know. 
​          I overheard French on the train, before I slipped into black. I threw the cup away, or I spilled it, or there was no cup - I lapped the stream on my belly. I know someone looked - was looking - but who was looking out? Who saw the open, silent scream? 
​          I did not read your introduction. I wanted a personalized response. I chose a huge, organic blackberry to offer. Honestly, I would have liked one myself. I swallowed my first question - this is an opportunity for you to frame the conversation. My biases are obvious. Matthew must have biases. Of course, I tried to throw them away. 
​          Using my black, elastic scrunchie, I can squeeze the water dispenser shut. Would you like a cup? I can vouch for fresh water. Afterward, we can whisper and remove our shoes. I worry it will prove as cold as yesterday.

2.

The Turtle (Dream Poem)

I am my home
and I'm not coming out.

3.

A Dream (excerpt)

Listen, 
when I said, “My cards are 
in the open now,” I held your car 
door open, and the smoke - 
you revved your engine twice, and the smoke started 
rising in dark 
spirals rising up, do you remember? 

3.
​
Twelve Slips

​          1.

O Father, you are a door.
You open other doors.

​          2.

A shut door is a veiled threat - incarceration.
Open with a sigh of relief.

​          3.

Empathy can nullify a perceived threat.
Walk with your enemy. Then witness fear dissolve.

​          4.

Yes, my weapon is empathy - yours is confidence.
I know you expect to win. Steel yourself.

​          5.

Embrace any weakness. Your fatal flaw is your secret weapon. 
The more human you seem, the more superhuman you become.

​          6.

If you find crying a sign of weakness, try anger. 
Funnel sorrow toward a tantrum. 

​          7.

You said ideation is a cry for help -  
"If you're dead-set, you shut your mouth."

​          8.

I think it can look like courage - 
courage can disguise a death wish.

​          9.

Guts, like courage. 
Blood is thicker than fear.

​          10.

Like cold noodles for loose entrails - 
adjust your blindfold before you squeeze the eyeball grapes.

​          11.

When I smear oil in my hair, my hair is spaghetti - 
spaghetti pomodoro with parmesan dandruff.

​          12.

But I am the true hair. 
My Father is the hairdresser.
_________________________________________________________________
11/25 - at Beatnik Bob's, with The Goes, nebulosa, Digital Mistress:

1.

"I Do Both of These Things"

​          1

John was asking some serious questions. They were watching him. He would not describe anything explicit. When Miriam came back in November, she recognized how, but still could not understand why. 

I added some butter and put the skillet in the oven. 

She wanted to feel something, and this was an excuse. If John had wanted, she would have come back. She set her alarm for 8:30 and got into bed - on the bed with the blankets on top. 

Because she asked him to, he took her headphones off. She could see the numbers on the houses. She felt like it was enough. Her mind was drifting a little.

To show he was awake, he would get up and take a shower. He told her that before. 

He entered after when I drove them. He would not correct me. He said he wanted her to feel good, but that he just felt sick. No, she said this. 

He threw up off the balcony. She went to the bathroom and looked at bus schedules. He said that he would never forgive her. Then he promised to text her about it later that evening. She still wasn’t drunk, but she did betray his trust. My plastic cylinder of dice was spilling open in the back.

I apologized for being annoying. We reviewed the episode from Sunday night. Miriam added shredded white cheese. I think he wanted her to be more upset. I turned the burner off.

She repeated this to him: “I thought it would be nice to clear my head.” I opened the dryer and emptied the lint tray. 

She drank most of it anyway, even John’s. He asked her if it had been stressful. Then she went and sat by her brother. She wanted to ask her brother something important, but she didn’t ask - she just listened. Then she heard John say something.

John wanted to know if she would share what she had learned. He seemed depressed. I was listening, so I knew. I heard Sarah was alive somewhere.

​          2

John was sleeping. When he woke up, he called Miriam a liar. I preheated the oven. Miriam said she thought John should take a nap. He washed his hands.

“I do both of these things,” I said. 

At one point, she had him lie back down. She asked him if he was mad at her. Eventually, she fell asleep holding him. 

I turned into Sarah. I imagine you took one and replaced it. 

I found them outside on Kingshighway. Miriam sent an email. They turned east onto Arsenal and kissed. She said, "I wasn’t actually sleeping.” John touched her or said something. After that, they prepared the blooms. Miriam had to keep talking. She finished the coffee that John had made - the remainder - and turned onto Spring. 

John was getting dressed or shaving his head. I thought it was too late to order food. “You were the one who told me about how often she uses the word,” John remembered. Then I remembered the skillet was still in the oven.

Miriam should have walked one more block south, then turned east. Instead, when she got to Spring, she put her glasses on John’s neck. We listened to musical animal sounds. I was wondering where they wanted to go next. 

I thought John was surprisingly compassionate, though he did ask Miriam about her disgusting outfit. She had been wearing it since they cleaned out the storage unit. I said nothing. I needed a hot shower. I thought she would say something. I said, “Sometimes I think this doesn’t save any time.” I did not want to gossip anymore. 

Earlier in the afternoon, I had secretly buried three small balls in the backyard. I worried they would never know, not for ten years. 

Miriam said, "You're almost thirty now, just like John is.” John told us that he wanted to see us soon. Miriam said, “I know it frustrates you when I ask if you are happy to see me.” He didn’t hear her - he was near a cluster of people. At this point, the only thing they shared was time. I wanted to go inside, so she could describe the day for me.

​          3

Miriam thought about how John described time. The timer went off. 

When John was in the shower, she thought about the combined effects. She wanted to imagine this as a truly permanent thing. She did not want to discuss the weather. I tried not to feel self-conscious. 

Miriam said that she didn't have any clean pants to wear, so I offered my pants from last Wednesday. I left them sitting on the stove-top. When we separated, I said that I would walk - I thought it would relax me. 

I gave up looking for the right place. I would listen for the place instead. 

I thought I should help them sit there. I thought about how John said, “You always think I’m wrong.” The dramatic crises of the summer interrupted it. 

It seemed like a come-on when John smiled. He told Miriam he wanted to go, even though I turned the oven off. Miriam said that she was frustrated. She said that she would die if he heard her say those things. I was going to put on warm clothes. I put the hot sauce bottle on the nightstand. 

We each ate two, though I did not like the taste. She could not tell John at the show, so she told him when they left. She did not want to need to rely on him. I reminded them about the tortillas. 

Then they started fighting. I thought I should go home. I wish I could have known what would happen next. They squeezed under the dead back porch light.

2.

How I Found Out

          What happened to her uncle? She drove him to Walgreens with the people from my life. He could not steal himself. A man named Tom was watching from outside. Three of us were watching Tom. Ben and I were two of the three. 
          Someone inside abandoned him - her uncle. Who was the one? Tom described an odd, metallic sound echoing. I remember Tom sounded lost, like he doubted his memory. 
​          She always called him Uncle - her uncle - but there was no blood relation. I cannot picture his face. Until he died, I did not know I would miss him. 
          Someone witnessed it - there were witnesses. No one told the story straight. Cowardice obscured each account. 
          Recently she wrote me from her prison. He had always been unstable, she revealed. I had an epiphany - “She must have always known,” I said. 
          I still don’t know what really happened at Walgreens that day. I remember his strange, pathetic expression. That was the summer Tom and Ben met. I met them all the night she performed at the Halloween show. 
          She was napping when it happened, she said in the letter. She spread this over five handwritten pages. “I pretend it never happened,” I read. I guess she never could tell if he was really leaving or faking it. 
          He offered me food from Cincinnati when I met him - her uncle. It was when she was rolling her eyes, before I learned to appreciate her sense of humor. 
          Now I watch her apartment. I feel small and vulnerable inside. I found his locked suitcase in the basement.

          We all stayed here once, before she was arrested. We wore party outfits and danced in the mirror. 
​          I wish I could apologize to him - her uncle. I lost my chance. We only had one good talk. We were standing at the Civic Center stop one night. That was before I understood. 
​          She wrote me when he died. That was how I found out. It was five weeks late, actually. “I only just found out,” she wrote. I believed her.
_________________________________________________________________
10/31 - The Big Spooky, at Grease 3: 

​The Terrible Aroma (for Asmodeus)

"Nothing that breathes the vapor of love means nothing."
-Jim Brodey

The wheels on the bus go round and round.
Dogs are barking in the dark.
Ignore the screaming barefoot person -
just listen to your heart.

Listen to Heart, the band Heart.
Listen to "These Dreams."
Unwrap your pocket snack
and read the ingredients.

My heart was made with natural and artificial flavors.
Your heart is enriched with cricket protein.

Look at your own reflection in the glass.
Ask: "Where did you get that lovely thermal shirt?"

You can't hide from pain. 
You can't resist.
My wet shoes kiss the muddy sidewalk square.

You can roast the angel fish 
or cloves of garlic.
You may see footprints in the morning.​
_________________________________________________________________
10/17 - at Dugan House, with Pope, Young Jesus, Shady Bug:

1. 

The God of Omigod

From your backyard perch,
behold the angry sky.
Does the soft-focus moon
turn your stomach? I'm allergic.

Pick your forehead scab.
Drag your cursor.
This sounds like the song
from the sneakers commercial.

Pick your battles.
Pick your wedgie.
I was on the fence, but I fell off it.
Don't let the stars get in your drink.

Is this the line
for the bathroom?

2.

I Was the One

People were laughing in the backyard, near the original pile. The other pile was also outside, near the basement entrance. I was the one who piled them. I think it was me. You told the people to stop laughing at you. You scolded them. I had not heard. I had been sitting alone, thinking about the piles. 

Under Pressure

You said you would go with me if I wanted to go back there. I admired the rolly typography. You were learning about new high blood pressure devices. I was under pressure to look through the papers - the papers I stole from the open suitcase.

Your Biggest Fan

I apologized for an off-the-cuff gaffe, though it was honest. I had been a fan of yours for so long that I was sleeping too, but I didn’t know you wanted to die. When you were sleeping, I was the backyard. Maybe I was the room where you were sleeping.

Leave the Light On

I updated him inarticulately. Because he was drunk, I included some animated gifs. In one skillet we sauteed beans. I tried to dodge his insecure questions. I fear he sensed a reference to your interesting project. I am so out of practice. After she drove us all to the store, I threw my back out. I needed to lie down. I did not know what to do with the cheese. I would have preferred walking home. It would have been less stressful. I plugged the power cord in, into an empty surge protector socket.

Resemblance

You thought we were related. We listened to the same soundtrack. “Years ago, I threw away every photo album,” I told you. That is an excuse I use when I am especially angry.

Untitled

I wanted to choose the right instrument. I wanted something so heavy that you would need to clean the outside space, even in the dark.

Final Destination

Once I turned south and looked down. When it went south, it went sour. I told him that - I told you. It was where I picked at the pimples on my face and where you peed.

Halloween

Do you understand? I am responsible for how you treat me. I said that. We went to Ralph’s to buy Halloween candy. You were worried about your friend. You talked to me about her when we were walking there. I wanted to borrow one of your Halloween books before Halloween. You said that the books were under the stairs with your sad friend.

Your Song

You usually wore pajama pants, unless you were enraged. When you were, I would wait two minutes. Then I would sing you the song about your life, about your night. I would ask you how your night was going. 

Pay Attention

I saw it on the radio. You were talking in your sleep. I saw what you said. It was about biking, about relying on intuition and many things I once would use. I saw different people in your mumbles, people I had once known. I started preparing food for us to eat. You were still asleep. I could do whatever I wanted to do. I realized this was your parents’ house again, with a dumpster in the alley behind it. Later that night you pointed to me - you pointed me out from years ago. You said that pressure on your nose was more interesting. It did not make a difference. I do not know how to get you to repeat. I said, “I don’t understand you.” Maybe I blocked it out. I could not listen. I did not want to understand.

Reminder

I left one box in the storage unit. I have not yet received the salsa I ordered or the strawberry-flavored food coloring.
_________________________________________________________________
9/24 - at Chill Dawg Cove, with Frank Hurricane, Liz Durette, Kevin Harris, DJ Floodgate:

1.

KNOCK KNOCK JOKE

You knocked three times on the ceiling.
I opened my messy dresser drawer
and dressed.

I didn’t dress up like Henry Ford.
I didn’t dress up like Lita Ford.
I know the angel of death circles aimlessly.

SOMETHING IS MISSING

It was all over
looked.

OCTOPUS SHADOW

Octopus shadow,
I traded my shadow
for you.

I left your package
at the loading dock,
where I lost one flip-flop.

Octopus shadow,
deliver me from your charismatic signature.
Yours,

2. 

I'M SO ONLY I COULD HAHA

Give the gift of love a gift.
Bite the filter off.
Seal it with a death wish.
Take it from the top.

Take the last train of thought.
Curl-up on the tracks.
You are like your dog.
You make me laugh. 

New paragraph.
Last night your eyes were rolling.
I saw your eyes roll back.
You said you were in control.

Control is an illusion.
Spin the steering wheel in circles.
Emotions float
like loose cartilage.

The storms are on the ocean. The surge
is catastrophic.
I am worth my weight in empty words.
Patience is worthless.
_________________________________________________________________
8/8 - at CBGB with Little Big Bangs, Brother Gruesome, The Emotron, Animal City

8/5 - at ​Beatnik Bob's

6/24 - MoMo Fest, at Off Broadway:

Don't stand so close to the stage.
You might cushion
a fall from grace.
This is a close call.

Don't cast aspersions on my friend.
Cast your first stone in a house of mirrors
with an iridescent ceiling.
This is a casting call.

Don't exploit my child's weakness.
My loaded shotgun is a bloody Kleenex.
My bloody Kleenex is a downward spiral.
This is a wake-up call.

Don't make eyes in the makeup aisle.
Fix your gaze -
ogle the sun.
This is a call to arms.

Don't act like a star.
Don't romanticize your scene.
You look like a magazine.
This is a tough call.

Don't love something fake.
Don't lick your index finger
when you turn the glossy page.
This is beyond the call of duty.

Don't abuse my generosity.
Your bruised ego must be a blood blister.
My smile is a boiled needle.
This is last call.​
_________________________________________________________________
​​6/20 - at Gooseberries, with ​​Bill Nace & Twig Harper

​6/17 - ​Showcase STL, at Taha'a Sick & Twisted Tiki

​6/1 - at Heavy Anchor​, with ​Ish, Toni Saputo

5/27 - at Puppy Planet, with Dwight Smith, Fragile Farm:

many people just like
can only access desire
in cover of night
​"shadows can soothe an injured spirit"
but it's why I wear a frowny face
​when the evening sun goes

listen when that
evening sun goes lower
do you lose your inhibition
turn into a pumpkin you will find
old dogs children and water damage
with heart conditions

with that old time feeling
that old used to be
confident but it's
my life was a habitat
for cowardice
was a desperate sidekick but it's

my life was a vehicle
for gross irony yes I
​washed my pits in the public
sink yes I washed my hands of
every friend
​when the sun goes down I don't
_________________________________________________________________
5/4 - at Chill Dawg Cove, with Wamhoda, Jane Wave, Naan Violence, DJ Floodgate:

​Mickey Mouse is a lying rat
with bad habits: 
tongues his soul patch compulsively,
fondles his wallet chain links
like rosary beads. 

Salacious rumors dog him,
stoke suspicion.
Mickey hops casino turnstiles,
bribes attending rent-a-cops. 
His cataracts shine.

Clarabelle can’t place Mickey.
But she can’t see
beyond her personal rain cloud,
her personal-crisis reel.
When he greets her, she glowers.

Numb trauma clouds her vision.
Mickey’s wet grin
rings no bells. “Why must this rodent
waste my precious moments?” she
mutters. “I wish I was home.”

Eventually she warms, six cocktails deep -
some watery gin thing.
“Take me home,” she croaks, one jeweled
hoof on his knee. 
“Come gaze into my Gazing Pool.”

Yes, the Gazing Pool is always ready -
deep within Clarabelle’s
sprawling estate, beside the
babbling brook,
quietly mirroring the sky.
_________________________________________________________________
4/25 - at The Way Out Club, with Dubb Nubb, Ish, Dear Rabbit:

1.

GARNISH

Parsley has a clean, bright flavor. Marigold flowers - try them in a salad! Nature's Sunshine. Twist like a thin peel slice or surprise reveal. Peekaboo! I'm watching you. I caught you steal an olive, Sunshine. I saw you dip your grubby fingers in my Witches' Brew cup. Grow up, Sunshine. Don't eat the plastic umbrella. Don't eat the yellow snow. Peel the fondant off your fancy cake. Don't suck a lemon when your tongue is swollen. Rub a numbing salve. Your days are numbered - don't laugh. Your heart is a leaky faucet. Your mouth is a running toilet. Your dog is a poet ("suffer lonely leaving / doggy's sleeping fatso / lying wildly abandoned"). I know you think cilantro tastes like soap.

2.

AFTER THE DISASTER

after the disaster, reevaluate
blood and guts numb
try chosen-one delusion
for survivor remorse

sad for selfish reasons
you dream of brave ribbons
own YOUR success
lest shame jinx your luck

surrender your nametag swipe card
add your trash to any steaming heap
put your backpack
in your hatchback

driving on the highway
helps you feel big
like a blimp
like a parade float

can you upstage the aftermath?
you can crank dead air
and belt your croon
you won’t let disaster trivialize you

clean break is a strategy
abandon your family and friends
blame the alter-ego you assume
you speak the lingo

you roam from town to town
practice your autograph
in empty stripmalls
where urban buzzards circle

pass charred highrises
en route to voice of a generation
endless landfill fires
and craters

this is your tour
across the american wasteland
wild youth adore you
desperate survivors in subculture uniform

you don’t speak truth to power
you don’t know how
but you can act old soul
for new drunks

you do seem wise
when you crack wise, strum and chuckle
but you are a cipher
strung up like a puppet

O troubadour dolly
what lovely creases line
your perfect haggard face
you mannequin-man

you lie but your hips don’t
nothing clouds your confidence
ignore the consequences
carpe yolo, sunshine

eventually your car will die
one sunny tuesday
within lush ruins
between rivers

when it sputters to a stop
you will stumble out and sprawl
on the smoking hood
sizzling fiberglass

and when you also die
at last, poor star
will sobbing throngs sing your praises?
someone else will take your place

3.

DIVA (CODA)

Can the singer watch the venue?
accuses some person,
terrorizes the party.

A salt lamp sort of person,
banana peel slipper - that’s who!

whose hot air is steam in the darkness
outside the all-nite supermarket,
who shoulders the canvas bag of tall cans.

And will this evening yield a darling?
is a question can 
always take issue.
Ice cubes melt across the barroom.
_________________________________________________________________
3/31 - at Beatnik Bob's​​

​1/21 - at ​Beatnik Bob's

​1/7 - at ​The Way Out Club, with DJ Ghost Ice, nebulosa

1/4 - at Mangia, with ​Motherbear:

ARE YOU COLD???

Under a streetlight,
out in the moonlight,
you lace-up your sneakers,
just like I used to do.

This is the first time.
You can hear me in the whine -
someone’s Blue
tooth speaker.

Warm your clammy fingers by the Mekong TV fire.
Thaw your heart with this catchy song.

Dig your heels in
on the sawdust floor.
Thank your lucky starfish.

No consolation prize
worth waiting for.
Patience curdles milk.

Kick your bootheels up in the Bootheel.
Knock them in a hay bale doghouse,
covered in snow.
These boots were made in Mexico.

Put your camera
in your camera bag.

This is the best part:
How can you be so tender but so stoic?
When you get a chance, you blow it.

Nothing can shake this scar.
Nothing comes close.
Sometimes it’s hard.

Bury your loss.
Swaddle sour thoughts in gauzy haze.
Aioli is another word
for mayonnaise.

Phony lowlifes close-talk,
thumb screens
and stumble on the dancefloor.
“I’ve seen this one before.”

After midnight,
only crickets chirp.
Walk where flies swarm,
where ugly birds perch.

What is the sound of the chill in your bones?
This is the song that will carry you home.

Tire squeal echoes.
Steam rising from a plastic barrel.
Your phone,

          rustling in your purse.
_________________________________________________________________
​2016:

​12/7 - at Mangia, with Ish

12/5 - at Chill Dawg Cove, with Frank Hurricane, Skin Tags, Grain, Ghost Ice & Mister Ben Duo, Wiggpaw:

How does an eventful, exciting party differ from an endless, boring event? It’s a fine line. Maybe this is what you are waiting for? I’m just trying my best.

Imagine you are waiting for a bus. You are standing at a bus stop, waiting for a bus. You hear a sound - something like distant, buzzing insects or a Sharper Image white noise machine. Your field of vision begins to resemble a whiteout blizzard or frosted shower doors fogging. Your stomach turns. You fall on your ass, on the sidewalk. Get up. Put on your glasses. Where are you? What do you see? The party is in full swing and you are the one swinging it. Nothing bad has happened yet. Adoring guests circle like moons. You are both an attentive, nurturing host and a featured star. You spin a yarn - something rehearsed, clever. You barely make it to the punchline. Bursts of cascading laughter engulf your monologue like high tide ocean waves swallowing a sand castle. What charisma! 

Do you imagine you’re funny? Do you imagine you have a funny mouth? Your mouth is just a talking organ. O Grandpa, imagine you were silenced! Open your heart. Shhh… Listen to your mute soul babble. Cast a wide, lace net. Cast a fishing line necklace. Tally your haul: 18 fleecy centipedes, 61 crying bees. Do you know what bees know? Bees know what the dilly-o. Bees represent resistance. Grandpa represents bees. You were the Wacky Races champion until Grandpa Smurf swiped your car keys. Grandpa Smurf is like Papa Smurf, but with a longer beard and a yellow outfit. Yellow is like the sun and piss. Grandpa Smurf is the Tin Man with a leaking, yellow faucet. Remember? You said growing old is all about wiping your ass. I’m sorry, that’s gross - so gross. I’m so, so sorry. I am like the cigarette whose filter you bit off - bit off and spit out into rushing, dusty water. Do you follow? Water, water, everywhere - drip, drip, drip… Aloha! Merry Christmas! Water follows the path of least resistance; however, salmon swim upstream. Do you recall your golden hour? Did you savor that scene? Cluck Old Hen. Cluck, cluck, cluck. Followers would cling to you - cling with grubby fingers, staining your sheer robe. Some would squeeze your dense pelt, perhaps in search of a souvenir to pluck - zealous followers hollering hosannas and swallowing cobwebs. Follow like an echo. Follow like a coda. Know I was one who numbered among them. You melted me gooey, as if I were a Peace Frog candle and you were an abalone Bic. You lit my wick with your holy fire. I was so fired-up, I got fired! Actually I was fired for being scared of bees. Yes, I have many fears. Are you scared to walk at night? I’m scared of rejection. I’m scared of mice and teenagers. Crow Black Chicken. Caw! Caw! There’s another false face under this false face. I fear cross-legged, giddy flirts blocking the sidewalk; antsy, faceless crowds and nameless faces leering; veiled ambitions and broken promises. I fear that which vanity disguises. I fear small talk and frozen smiles. You might ask, “Are you really as sad as your face? Are you faking?” What constitutes performing an emotional state? How does such a performance differ from an authentic, visceral experience? Does performing an emotional state alleviate or intensify the emotion? Will forcing a smile make me happier?

Ding-dong! Wake up, you missed it. You must have dozed off or zoned out. You were so preoccupied - stewing in regret and fearing the future, paralyzed with indecision. You missed the last bus. Hear it clank in the distance. You are alone, standing at a deserted intersection in a desolate neighborhood. Anxious, disappointed phantoms hover and dissolve like sour smoke. With apparent purpose, you start walking. Where are you headed? You lose your way. Instead of helpful landmarks, you find only empty or confusing signifiers - asemic street signs and circular arrows. Eventually you recognize a ramshackle, abandoned building. A curious, miniature awning crowns its single glass block basement window. Crouching beneath it, you are a gargoyle lawn ornament or a pitiful, hunched bathtub Madonna. Face it, you wasted your life. You are an ostrich. You bury your head when you bury the hatchet. The grass is always greener in the prairie restoration zone. Your ass is grass. Your skin is showing. Shadows might conceal you, but they won’t protect you. Night falls. The big, yellow moon is a spotlight. 
_________________________________________________________________
12/3 - at Kismet, with Shane Parish, Marble//Wall Duo:

Do you have any questions?

Who put the bomb in the bomb-detection dog?
Who pulled the rug out from under you?
Who put the bomb in the shoe-bomb decoy?
Who put the plume in your picture?

Why is every answer another question?
The truth is out there.

I only keep my own secrets. 
I come from Susanna with down on my knees.
I lied on the application.

I come from a generation with different values.
I breed fancy pigeons with down on their feet.
I revere fine breeding.

My spreadsheet is a bedsheet. 
My fig leaf is a bay leaf. 
My head is empty.

Statistics
don’t convince me.
_________________________________________________________________
11/16 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Moses Nesh
​
​11/11 - at Milque Toast Bar, with Thumpy Sticky, nebulosa

10/22 - at Mangia, with Ramona Deflowered, Attlemar:

wastes, the boil
this is no time to navel gaze
          gazes back
the wasted boil
boil with a sword and pistol
the boiling sword and pistol boils back

the shakes completely from the seasons
          boil
you forget the sarcasm 
          boils back
          rests inside me

no ordinary boil by the side, inside me
the number
I field your number
          or I just dial the gatehouse
          flustered

I fall at the complex,
          weak and shake completely 
          and laugh and shake
_________________________________________________________________
10/7 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Jane Wave, Scott Tuma:

THE
RUG
UNDER
​EVERYTHING

O glinting mosaic bug,
alight on cold shoulders,
shrug-off Kodak moment selfies,
self-efface
and soothe the bereft.

Pull onto the shoulder
when you can’t hold it in
or when you notice a brown bear
in the backseat, glaring.

Sublimate desire.
Pull the rug out
from under the fire.
Why do nostrils flare?
No one knows.

What will save this plant?
It’s hard to say.

It’s hard to say when it’s hard to speak.
When you look at me like that,
O glinting mosaic bug,
I get weak.
_________________________________________________________________
9/14 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Julia Lucille, Vanilla Beans:

CAN I ADIEU?

Down at the pool hall,
proud liars
quaff Sonic limeade
laced with gin,
sneaking slugs
from pickle jars
with peeling, crusty labels.

Like Zak
at Shur-Sav,
snagging a 
sock-it-to-me 
pudding cake,
they fondle wet dollars
with hot, greasy fingers.

Sweet, pink noses dribble
when talk turns sentimental.

Goodbye yellow 
primrose! Goodbye 
Porky Pig
hat! Hello 
harm reduction!
Hello halitosis!
Hello happy 
hours​
_________________________________________________________________
9/12 - at The Heavy Anchor, with Dana Sipos, I Could Sleep in the Clouds, Benjamin Hermann:

REMEMBER

When you cough up green
swallow four twine knots

When you find small toads in ditches
or swimming in storm drains
consider the Taos Hum
radiating yellow comfort

Nothing can shake a scar
not even hot Santa Ana
tough as jerky

Even flies have ears
_________________________________________________________________
9/2 - Night of Trios, at The Stage at KDHX

8/27 - Pü F3ST, at Blank Space​

7/24 - at my house, with ​Willis, Cranky Yellow

7/19 - at The Blue Pearl, with Ayesirowl

6/18 - RFT Showcase, at 4121 Manchester:

​I want to constantly dress in the spiritual armor you give me. I want to walk in your Spirit. O LORD, Please give me spiritual armor. Please. Give me the strength to win. Arm me for every combat. Arm me with righteous fire. O LORD, I want to disgrace and humiliate my opponents. Pour out your wrath on them! As wind reduces a roaring fire to dying embers, so reduce my enemies to crumpled husks. Let them vanish like evaporating water. Let them shudder under the burden of your terrible weight. Forever and always, Amen.
_________________________________________________________________
6/1 - at The Way Out Club, with Spray Tan, Sunwyrm, Fat Thumbing, Rhatz

4/28 - at CBGB, with Naan Violence, Mother Meat, Mister Ben, Fragile Farm:

DAWN CHORUS

Years ago, everyone knew your name. 
Beware, your sagging mug may still ring bells.
Keep your head down. 

Did you witness mystic hands?
Deep in the night.
You would keep your money in your shoes.

Neon lies, no loyal sun.
Birds are chirping early.
This is the final call.

You wish you were numb and rosy.
Oh no.
No, no, no.

Everyone is waving.
Put your glasses on.
Smoke clears.
​
Can't put your finger on the tip on your tongue.
Harbingers and hangers-on.
Smoke clears but the smell lingers.
_________________________________________________________________
3/26 - at Kismet, with ​Jack Toft, Willis, Zero Control:

If everything you say is part of the song, wherever you're at is the show. This is the show. Work-life balance is a concept. You're a workaholic. Whether you're spitting like a camel in your calisthenics class or you're lounging in your live/work loft, sipping artisanal dog milk - I know you, you're ON it. Relational aesthetics. One man's word salad is another man's word vomit. Cabbage. Red cabbage. Radicchio. Are you exclusive? Mutually exclusive!

Usually I hate people but - what was your name again? I love to make you smile! Whenever you smile because of me, when I can really tell it's really because of me... Every smile is a birthday present. Candles and cake and ice cream and exotic rodents and all my best friends in their party outfits. Confetti. Now I am 3 thousand years old. Now I am a skeleton. I was alive, but I was buried alive. 

One stuffed my mouth with warm clay. Another bound my hands with waxed floss. The third set worthless pebbles on my drooping lids. Did I wiggle my toes in panic? Don't mourn for me - I certainly had it coming!

This is a party in a dungeon, a seance. Bring your own psychomanteum. Smear coconut oil on an antique mirror. Dim the lights. What do you see? Put a candelabra on your mantle. Light the candles. This is the anthem, repeat after me: fog and smoke (fog and smoke), fog machine (fog machine), sleepless night (sleepless night), rest in peace (rest in peace), sealed air (sealed air), dry ice (dry ice), black ice (black ice), rock salt (rock salt) ...
_________________________________________________________________
3/22 - at The Blue Pearl

3/7 - at Tavern of Fine Arts, with Eric Rich Ensemble

2/26 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Caethua, Colby Nathan, Tom Kovacevic, Fragile Farm:

WHAT ARE YOU WEIGHING FOR?

​You've gained so much, you tilt the scale. Back-fat folds and favors owed. Once a gnarled wire like a straightened coat-hanger, now more like a pear-shaped seal or a square-shaped flopper. A pearl-shaped waffle with small, smooth hands like flippers. Remember plaster cracked your knuckle skin. Like chainmail, like scales. Often by the fire with your feet up, you would dredge-up glass shards and splinters. Remember one with an elegant curve like a harpoon, fit to frame. Checks and balances - what have you lost? You lost track of time. Where did you park your car? You've abandoned friends and family; spurned lovers. When you die, strangers will raise you from your reclining chair and mount you on a plus-size stretcher.
_________________________________________________________________
1/23 - at Kismet, with Drew Gowran & Dave Stone, Marble/Wall Duo, Okendo:

There is a mother fish in the sea.
Her eggs are caviar.
There are two kinds of stars
And I hate both of them.
_________________________________________________________________
1/14 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with New Berlin, Boreal Hills, Drag

2015:

12/17 - at Kismet, with Dubb Nubb, Real Live Tigers, Fragile Farm: 

DON'T LEAVE

The low cat meows like the hoarse cow moos.
Sometimes the low cat bears bad news.
The hoarse cow cries on the stock car ride.
The low cat knows why the hoarse cow cries.

THE DOCTOR

See the cow train coming, rolling down the railroad track.
See the cow train coming, rolling down the railroad track.
Did the blade stop chopping when the chop talked back?

STOCK-UP ON GRASS-FED WHEY

The low cat is not really a doctor. Depending on whom you ask, that nickname derives either from his genuine wisdom or his patronizing demeanor. Incidentally, I am actually a doctor, technically, but no one calls me that. I have no area of expertise; my honorary doctorate honors my celebrity status and immense wealth. 
_________________________________________________________________
11/25 - at Firebird, with Quief Quota, Sugar Rags, Eric Hall

11/21 - at Mangia, with Tory Starbuck

10/21 - at Kismet, with Mister Ben & Dave Stone, Name Vital

10/10 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Catl, Maness Brothers, Brother Lee:

Cube of ice in my cup. Winter coat. Riverboat, quote unquote. Sun comes up and it matches my shoes. Bright yellow. Say, "Hello Iowa! No new news!" This shallow talk is nice. Buffalo on my rumpled shirt. Lashing out, fashionably.

This sunrise interrupted my total grief. Photographs don't. Photoshop. What's the actual use of sorrow? Does it show? Teal, aqua, turquoise. Blues are hollow. Fear blue eyes. Drown in oceans, gulping and gasping. Waves crash. Heartbreak sea.
_________________________________________________________________
10/5 - at Los Punk, with Tellavision, Wamhoda, Invisible Circle:

If you liked:

A BETTER WAY TO LIVE
THE CHOICE
THE GREATEST MIRACLE IN THE WORLD...
THE GREATEST SALESMAN IN THE WORLD
THE GREATEST SALESMAN IN THE WORLD, PART II: The End of the Story
THE GREATEST SECRET IN THE WORLD
THE GREATEST SUCCESS IN THE WORLD
MISSION: SUCCESS!
UNIVERSITY OF SUCCESS
&
THE RETURN OF SALESMAN ...

you'll love:

ALL SIGNS POINT TO YES

Why is it hard to write? It's hard to reconcile. How once I was a twinkle in your eye, now I line new wrinkles in your brow. I would kiss the shadow you cast. Now I darken your bad dreams.

My new wife has a boyfriend who is an alien. At least that's what she tells me. In any case, he's a slick-talking huckster with an embarrassing wallet chain. We all live together in the honeymoon suite. San Francisco? São Paulo? Some cosmopolitan somewhere. We're pitching our scenario as a reality TV show pilot. An anthropomorphic crystal ball gag guest-stars. 

Don't I have my doubts, you ask? I never was decisive. I fear law of attraction enforcers. I remember your look - dimple-chin, thin scowl. It's as if every second-guess was an admission of guilt.

With the blinds drawn, this luxury apartment seems like a closed convertible with tinted windows. Idling on some sleepy cul-de-sac. Engine running for the radio. When the sun shines - tiger stripes, pale zebra print. We subsist on a steady diet of dappled light and long sighs. Ah life! There are options to consider. 

True, there is an undeniable appeal to monkish denial - float in your sensory deprivation tank, grow your fingernails. But then there is Epicurean indulgence: crisp, starched linens and crisp, chopped carrots; yeast donuts and cake donuts; donut-scented candles and candy-scented moist towelettes; lavender-scented speed juice; bright-hued tissue paper and deep tissue massages; unfinishable pitchers of too-sweet margarita; tortilla chips and potato chips; gluten-free lentil edamame chips; anything with cheese melted on it; yellow bean buns and black bean buns; purple yam buns and tahini milkshakes; cold moss and fresh wind gusts; blood lust and sexual hunger; dance floor catharsis...

How did lose track come crawling back? Well, I got lost. Chaparral is like a junkyard when you expect desert austerity. To love a shrub. Dust-sucking succubus. Brace yourself, I told myself. Clasp that slug-covered tree trunk. Then: I'm falling, please help me.

How can I explain myself? When opportunity knocks, I always say, "Who's there?" You must understand. Surely someone knocks on your door or calls you on the phone. I used to think waiting was like playing a game. Who would last the longest? 

You are a rat with a tiny rat phone. Someone is calling you. Pick up the phone. Your phone is ringing. 

Helloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo?!
_________________________________________________________________
10/2 - Pancake-Festen X, at PPHQ

8/15 - at Livery Company

7/7 - at Livery Company, with Bug Chaser, Carondelettes, Carriage House, Dan ROth, DRACLA, Fred Friction, Irene Allen, Lesbian Poetry, Loaf, Maness Brothers, Mark Brainard, Mother Meat, Mr. Bones, No Call No Show, River Kittens, Ryan Markovich, Shitstorm, Spoken Nerd, Tawaine Noah, The Quiet Entertainer, WHSKY GNGR

7/5 - at PPHQ, with Dubb Nubb, Vanilla Beans, Human Behavior, The Yellow Dress, Paper Ceilings

6/20 - RFT Showcase, at Taha'a Sick & Twisted Tiki

6/11 - BELLEVILLE, IL, at The Abbey:

Meet me in the middle. 
Nothing thrills like burning bridges. 
Every relationship is a competition. 
You may already be a winner! 

Meet me at Center Cross. 
My patron saint is Pinocchio with his nose chopped off. 
My spirit animal is a salted slug. 
My love is bigger than your gas leak. 

Meet me in Metro East.
Every compromise is a massive defeat. 
Every apology is a tactical loss. 
Every motel room has bedbugs.

Meet me at Globe Drug.
Call a taxi. 
Meet me at the library. 
Meet me in the basement. 

Nothing satisfies my cravings. 
There is no saving grace. 
There is no silver lining. 
There is no saving face.
_________________________________________________________________
5/9 - at Heavy Anchor, with Sole Loan, Red Mouth:

Plan a well-timed bathroom break.
Run your fingers under the faucet.
What are you doing here? 
You could be sprawled, ass-up in bed, streaming content. 
Why do you ever leave your home? 

You made a mistake. 

Wash your hands some more. 
Now you're so clean, you're fucking scrubbed. 
You're in a reflective mood, consumed by eternal mysteries: 
"Should I gulp straight from this disgusting faucet? 
What do truckers love the most?" 

You never drink enough water, that's why you're exhausted. 
Of course 
you slam the back of your head on the base of the sink when you drink. 
Is it blood in your hair? 
Suds and grit. 

Outside the bathroom, 
there is a man on a stage singing. 
You listen while you're pissing. 
Hot Cross Buns? 
Who knows - your senses are dulled. 

Stale puddles of piss on the floor smell like roses. 
The lump in your throat tastes like the ocean. 
The man in the mirror looks lonely. 
Your own fingertips feel funny. 

It's time to face the music and a bored audience. 
Shit or get off the pot. You know what I mean. 
You're not a player, you just crush a lot. 
You're not an underdog, you're a bottom-feeder. 

See you this weekend!
_________________________________________________________________
4/7 - at Los Punk, with Jeff Zagers, Larva Lu, Hylidae

3/3 - at Los Punk, with Little Howlin Wolf, Frank Hurricane, Wiggpaw, Fred Friction:

I'M SORRY 

1 
You are so evil, you're wicked. 
You are so wet, you're melting. 
I won't bat an eye when you call me psychedelic. 

I'm not angry, I'm just sad. 
You are so heavy, you're anchored. 
I'm not holy, I'm your brother. 
You don't have to call me Waylon Jennings. 

You wrote the book on flexing your nose. 
I don't know the difference between The Hunger Games
and Game of Thrones.
I'm tired of playing games. 

2 
The real world often resembles a game. 
Revelations are turning points. 
Nothing satisfies like a full disclosure. 

That was no faux pas, you were negging. 
You've got a face for radio and an ass for television. 
Love can build a bridge across the autism spectrum. 
Tune in next week for a skeleton! 
_________________________________________________________________
2/7 - at CBGB, with Jack Toft & Little Cake, Demon Lover, Ellen the Felon:

Dear diary, I know she's only hot for me when the Illuminati wants her to be...

I get it - celebrity thrills lonely people. Do you swear by that vicarious glamour, Charlie Brown? Get ready to drool for the cream of the crop - It Girls, local style icons & Buffalonian mob-bosses Little Cake & Jack Toft. Good Grief! 

I hope you're popping Hollywood Diet capsules - expect an all-you-can-eat buffet, a feeding frenzy. More power-eating fantasies than you can shake a stick at (chart the caloric climb from & the Vegetables to & Little Cake). Let's get bananas, green bananas - like a whole bag of Funyuns, like cookies mean a lot to you. Eating hot dogs; eating shellfish, hot dogs and relish; eating chicken fingers; eating Indian food. Feed you carrots, eat your roast beef sandwich, buy you hot soup... Woody Guthrie sang about B-E-E-T-S, not B-E-A-T-S. Jack & Ana are turnt up like turnips, kooky like experimental stir-fry. What a spread!

Spread like a centerfold. Watch the stain spread (cat shit on an orange mattress). Is Demon Lover still "one to watch"? Are you playing dead? Don't front like your trigger finger taps that throbbing pulse. Get with the times, Linus. Mix and match different parts. Elements of this and that.

1. Fire is hardly fire - it's baking soda and laxative, numbing agents. 
2. Air is flatulence. Pass gas, break wind - fulfill your quota. Do you think I'm evil? I wanna fly like an eagle. 
3. Water is firewater. I'm an ignoble teetotaler, I'm abstaining. 
4. Earth is excrement. Hippies need to learn to flush. Stick that crystal where the sun don't shine. Shove it up your crater canal. 

Style-over-substance-abusers. Gum the cream cheese frosting off a red velvet muffin (little cake). Battle raps, braggadocio - you wanna mess with this? You're as intimidating as a flaccid, jacked-off dick. I stick to a garbage-rich diet. You ought to try it.     

JUST ADDED: ELLEN THE FELON:

Balladry is a balm. Salve your wounded spirit. A torch song is like, "I still carry a torch for you." A torch is a thing on fire. Measure the distance between the catharsis of confession and the pageantry of performed emotion.

2/6 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Whsky Gngr, Golden Curls, Eric Hall, John Crane, Hands and Feet and others

1/17 - at Los Punk, with Fred Friction:

Mysteries of the unseen world. Is your cream just piss? What kind of scene is this? I can see right through your aloof persona - you're not mysterious. I'm just trying to keep the transitions seamless.
Sweets are my weakness. Is this as sweet as it gets? I'm not sappy, I just have an insatiable appetite. Sweetness is in the eye of the beholder. Whisper sweet sweetnesses. Nothing comes close.
I'm not so sweet. Expect no gestures drawn from a Rom-Com finale. You and me is the longest long-con. Oh God, I live for melodrama. 
You bring out the hopeless teen in me, baby. Winky face emoticon.
Do you too claim what's yours like a dog pissing on a sandwich board? 
I always leave a mark, I can't help it. Is it all over my face? You're just projecting. 
Hit me with your best shot. Hit me one more time, baby. Give me a break. 
Give me the movie star life. Never mind, I take it back. 
"No take backs" is a call-back to last episode. If I started back again, do you think I could moderate? It's hard to walk the line, I hate to say. Which slippery slope, you know? Oh baby, I love yours the most!
_________________________________________________________________
1/9 - at Kismet, with Ryan Markovich, Janet, Nancy Cilantro:

Dear Zak:

Thanks for inviting me; however, I can't attend this time. 

It's that time again! I always feel ugly when Mercury is rising. This zit on my nostril makes me look like a rhinoceros. I'm scared the dentist noticed my sinus abscesses. Are you scared to walk at night? I'm just scared of rejection. 

I'm different now. Chemicals have fundamentally altered my mental processes. I have a crush on carcinogens. Cancer is a crab, that's not very romantic. Maybe it's different with cuspers. Benzedrex, Phenibut. I'm not embarrassed - it's just a Niacin rush. I surrender! I give up!

Sidebar: How can you be tender but so stoic?

Whenever I quit something, it's a virgin sacrifice. Virgos are prone to self-sabotage, to self-criticize. What's your sign? My sign is the sign of the foot. Have fun! Good luck! Picture me drawing a bath while it happens.

P.S. You're so vain - don't flatter yourself!
_________________________________________________________________

2014:

12/13 - at Foam Coffee & Beer

11/24 - at my house, with Googolplexia, Janet, Escalade:

PARTY INVITATION

Some say submission feels freeing. It's hard to deny the allure of punishment. Imagine a ring, even the tackiest costume bauble. What if you could not help but kneel and pucker? 
Many thrive, so debased. The possum is as snug in his pouch as a mosquito suspended in amber. To me, it sounds stuffy - not so much hanging from a hammock as hanged from an oak. I guess many loves smother.
***
Others recommend a position of power (you, with your bullwhip and smug grin). But there is always a bigger boss! Do you relish the scant perks of middle management? 
***
Teamwork: 
1. Demonstrates cooperation within work unit, fostering a team environment 
2. Interacts effectively with others at all levels.
Where would I be without my cohort? I am nothing with no one to help and useless without backup.
***
When I am alone here, it does not feel like a home. A heart needs a home. It's so somber in here with the curtains drawn, tacked-up quilts. Let in some air, open a window! Remember how quickly light fills a room. My home is as open as my heart. Please join me.
_________________________________________________________________
11/12 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Dana Sipos, Grace Basement, Morgan Orion

11/5 - at Livery Company

10/15 - at Livery Company, with Fred Friction

10/3 - at The Revisionist Inn, with The Polydimensionals, Daniel Bonespur, Annie Enneking, Hand Sand Hands, Puny:

ON IMMORTALITY
Follow my lead - if we keep dancing, we will live forever.
 
Don't fear a lusty blood rush. 
Pretty please,
with a cherry on top. 

Suck that whipped topping
off the top
of the aerosol nozzle.

How do I live like this? 
What's my secret? 
It wasn't easy becoming this: so easy. 
Once I had it made but I'm afraid.
But I surrendered to pleasure.
I gave it all away!

Affection leads to misery.
What life could be sweeter than the sweet life?
Shed your conscience and commit to instant pleasure.
I swear, your teeth won't rot.
You too will look guilt-free,
as good as skinny feels!

Oh, you missed a spot. See my sugar on your chin, Sugar.
I am not coming on to you, not this time. 

This was many moons ago. You were just a baby, Baby. But I was already balding. 
I may have made many mistakes,
but this takes the cake!

My name is Legion. True, I was the one when you fell through the roof. But I too caught you, just. 
I threatened you, friend, and you fled Gravois Park.

You were just another Sugar Plum Fairy, Cupcake. And I was just one of your boys in the dark. Like two ships that pass in the night.

What vanity! I squandered the promise of True Love - all for an endless, empty life.

:( :( :( :(

The only two things in life that make it worth
living . . .
_________________________________________________________________
9/14 - at PPHQ, with Daren Gratton, Googolplexia, Bill Michalski, Matt Harnish, Carondelet Guy, Bobby Stevens, Whsky Gngr, and others:

Also appearing at this all-day event.
I'll be wearing a brave face.

Sometimes it's hard to be out in the sunshine.
Shadows can soothe an injured spirit.
This is similar to how alcohol can enhance a dull personality.

I always get, "I always see you everywhere."
Do you think I'm a character in your sitcom?

Snacking is the least manly iteration of my floating addiction - crying into an ice cream pint.
"Feels so good when you put it in your mouth/Sends a shiver all down your spine".¸.•*¨*•♫♪¸¸•*¨*•♫♪

Just because I have an open heart, doesn't mean I have an open mind.
Are you open-minded? 

An obese man outside Quiktrip once invited me to a threesome - "Are you open-minded," he asked. "Are you coming with us?" He was wearing a disgusting t-shirt. "I love a human with natural human hair." 

Just because you invite me, doesn't mean I have to want to come.
Can I eliminate desire - do I have to want?

I want you to want to come (I want you in a leotard).
I want you to use a glazed donut as a burger bun.
Overindulge - when you cut yourself off, you behead me.
I want you buzzing like cicadas.
_________________________________________________________________
9/12 - at El Lenador, with Melanympha, Beauty Pageant, Janet, Polydimensionals

9/8 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Christian Lee Hutson, Chambers, Ruby the RabbitFoot:

Stop talking talking talking, you have no audience.
Mind your own business, impostor syndrome.
I have seen you standing in the smoky haze.

Are you really so shy?
We all make choices in life. 
I'm so bored, I could buy pretty much anything.

Moving on when someone isn't giving it to you, that's real emotional maturity.
I promise, call me tomorrow and I will love you as much as I ever did.
Or, I know I'll quit when I'm ready, I promise.
Is just dust what makes you sneeze?
You walk by and I fall to pieces.
I'm just trying to be honest. 

I see you sitting there -
with your pearl-snap shirt and close-cropped hair,
running your thumb down your phone. 

I bet you don't see me -
in my combat fatigues.
My face is basically see-through. 
_________________________________________________________________
8/18 - BROOKLYN, NY, at Pete's Candy Store, with Spider, Jon Wiley, Hannah Cranton

8/16 - BUFFALO, NY - at the middle of Keep Alley, with Jack Toft & Little Cake, Damian

8/15 - BUFFALO, NY, - at Lasalle Park, with Jack Toft & Little Cake

8/14 - PITTSBURGH, PA, at Bayardstown Social Club

8/13 - CINCINNATI, OH, at Rake's End, with Moriah Haven, Wonky Tonk

8/11 - CHICAGO, IL, at Meet Cute, with Shaina Hoffman, Tim Young, Deadbeat

8/10 - at PPHQ, with Dubb Nubb, Googolplexia, Seaby, The Polydimensionals

8/6 - at El Lenador, with The Polydimensionals:

Playing at this place tonight ///////// with Will Huie's The PolyDimensionals, they who pledge to "bring healing to the hardworking people." But don't feel left out! I'm here for the lazy cockroaches. This is no time for healing (besides, my healing thing is defunct). No, I'll salt your wounds. Let's pick at this scab till it scars.
_________________________________________________________________
7/17 - NORMAN, OK, at The Bluebonnet, with Brad Fielder

7/9 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Adam Balbo, Seaby & the Rules, 3 of 5

6/27 - at Los Punk, with Frank Hurricane, Zebu, Fred Friction, Tim Garrigan:

I know I'm not the only one in this town who finds marathon shows painful. But I'm probably not the only one who also finds pain *exciting* . . . ;-P
----------------------------------------------------------------
So I've been thinking about yarn-spinners, tall tale-tellers:

If my ears are always open, am I a vulture? Gossip is the true discourse in a small city, Lord knows. Maybe I'm just too chickenshit to be the main character in my own story.

Frank Hurricane is always the main character of his stories. Even when he plays the straight-man, he's a sage. He's Aesop with a pat moral. Frank both needs no punchline and is his own punchline. 

Or, you think you're in on the joke but you're not. You laugh in the face of death and death laughs right back atcha - straight paranormal shit. Shrimp Money Millionaires will haunt you like a ghost. Did you hear what Nick said in the basement? -- "WE SHOOT OUR HOS!"

You can't argue with evil. 

Fred Friction too is no plain do-gooder and he will outclass any eager troubadour. He harvests a deeper, weirder fruit than any fretboard homebody. This bill situates Fred within a framework of the similarly shameless.

I love to up the stakes.

Can you tell I am aiming to be inclusive? Something for everyone. I polled my favorite focus group. Sometimes I think, "I never want to see another rock band perform." Rock and Roll.

Zebu is a rock band with real rock riffs - a duo, here. Catchy melodies accumulate, crumble and cohere again. 

I once baked a somewhat unsuccessful batch of crumbly cupcakes. Disguising my failure, I massed the pieces into a crumble-pile and coated the mound in thick frosting - a fake cake.

Is Black Panties a band? A brand? Black Panties is an angry brand - adolescent angst wedded to corporate anonymity. He is clinical like a viral marketing scheme, but sensitive and unpredictable like a tantrum-prone toddler.

When Frank played in St. Louis a couple months ago, he and I caught a Black Panties solo set later that evening. "This is really dark," he said to me. "This guy seems like he's coming from a really dark place."

BYO Money
BYO Feelings
BYO Darkness

[original lineup included Crisp Money Legends and Black Panties - neither actually performed]
_________________________________________________________________
6/15 - at The Jade Room, with Sam Doores & Pony Hunt, Sherman S. Sherman, Miss Molly Simms:

As a show-goer, I avoid events like these. Again, this is a confessional invitation... 
A lineup of pure, earnest strumming sounds like pure, excruciating torture! 
But, I recognize that this is a dumb impulse and probably related somewhat to self-loathing. Why hide what I cannot deny? I live for good songs. 
*******************************************************************
One touring duo: Sam Doores & Pony Hunt
Genre signifiers aside, Sam writes and sings well enough to earn his hat. I admire anyone who wields a broad cliche like a jeweler's loupe. Sam often plays with Hooray for the Riffraff and The Deslondes. This evening he will be joined by Pony Hunt - she with a charred croon: cheap kindling taking flame, smoke filling a room, ash clinging to ceiling fan blades.
*******************************************************************
Two local bandleaders, each performing solo:
Sherman S. Sherman seethes, cavernous over skeletal guitar - more "thunder rolling in the distance," than "bubbling brook beside me."
Miss Molly Simms belts and shreds. No fragile victim, she is confident and dangerous. Even moaning heartbreak, she never begs for sympathy. 
*******************************************************************
Begrudging host, yours truly, ha ha . . .
Cloying and needy, self-effacing yet self-involved. I lost my voice but it has reemerged like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. Cross my fingers. Cross my heart and hope to die.
_________________________________________________________________
6/12 - at Schlafly Tap Room, with Zagk Gibbons, DMY:

Let's take this party downtown! I know, I know - you never leave this neighborhood if you can help it. You'd turn into a pumpkin or melt.

I never leave this neighborhood as well. I've done a desperate thing for every notch in my belt. I'm a piece of garbage - I live a life of filth. Dusty dog hair tumbleweeds, ancient mouse shit, cobwebs...

Who is the you is the trick, I think. But the you change each time is the thing.

-- Did you catch me red-handed?

I always lie when I'm caught in a trap and I'm caught. I only think intrusive thoughts.

I caught a climpse but I lost it. Never in the mood - always, "I'm exhausted." I know I'm obnoxious. O Love, I love a love that's toxic. I am always sinking my fangs in a toxin, spreading malicious gossip or coughing.
_________________________________________________________________
6/6 - AUSTIN, TX, at McKinney Falls State Park, with Ron Scott, Devin James Fry

6/5 - FAYETTEVILLE, AR, at Nightbird Books, with Naan Violence, Ozarka Orchestra

6/4 - MEMPHIS, TN, at The Buccaneer, with Naan Violence, A55 Conducta

6/3 - at Livery Company, with Naan Violence, Sir Hate-A-Lot, Nancy Cilantro, Ryan Markovich:

SIR HATE-A-LOT
(Lee Isaacson of Skarekrauradio/The Cuckolds/Curious/BB & The Aesthetics fame)
Lee has probably told you he's no natural sideman, no willing vessel for "half-baked drivel." Is infamy a refuge from talent? This is a new vehicle for Lee's feelings.
*******************************************************************
NANCY CILANTRO
(Ryan Macias of Little Big Bangs fame)
Say you plant a seed in the soil. but the seed isn't just a seed, it's the kernel of truth in an outrageous story. Or instead of a seed, you bury a radio in the ground. And even though you can't hear it, it keeps right on streaming - screaming oldies at the ether ("I hear you singing in the wire"). Or, you send a message in a bottle.
*******************************************************************
NAAN VIOLENCE
(Arjun Kulharya of Naan Violence fame)
Arjun's solo sets are minimal and maximal - somewhere between Henry Flynt's Backporch Hillbilly Blues and teenage metal finger-tapping. He plays sitar with a western coarseness - more cocksure zeal than polite mastery. Rapid-fire figures compete with overtone drones and contact mic feedback.
*******************************************************************
ZAK Mmmmm
When I was much younger and more stunning, I would often wear a hat like this. A hat like this was my hat of choice. But now that I have grown old, it no longer suits my countenance. Perhaps the nature and gravity of my experience have altered the shape of my face. Once I was molten - hell-bent and youthful. I'd catcall and ogle, snug in drunk stupor. I was red in the face like Scott Hooper. And you -
you are the reason why
I only close my eyes when I yodel.
_________________________________________________________________
6/2 - COLUMBIA, MO, at Eastside Tavern, with Dung Lung, Hylidae, Maw

5/24 - at The Jade Room, with Michael Arnette

5/3 - at Los Punk, with Beauty Pageant, 32 Piece Vintage Party Set

5/1 - at Los Punk, with Ellen the Felon, Universe Content

4/25 - at Livery Company, with Cara Louise Band, Dirty 30's

4/12 - at The Revisionist Inn, with Black James:

1. I play a part in this thing. I am an unnecessary but effective aspect: more like a comma in a sentence than a nose on a face. I ice the cake. 
2. Can I be the thorn in your side? Find the thorn. Once you retrieve the thorn, the thorn is your new secret weapon. I'll keep your secret a secret - your secret's safe with me.
3. When I tell you stories, it means I am lying. True story: "I woke up screaming, dreaming a scuttling mouse." Did you catch that? Were you filming? Will you project it in your exhibit? Well, it happened once; or, it happened once before, too. Or: I've seen this before, I have a feeling. Deja vu is funny for a feeling - a "once more with feeling," feeling. It feels familiar and lived-in.
4. Don't assume I'll support your artistic vision. Don't be ridiculous. I saw you rub one out in the Goodwill bins. You are wretched. You're the biggest wreck I ever seen. I hope you don't rub off on me. I'm a loose cannon, seething. I'm a lit fuse, fuming. I'm a moving target, moving - don't bank on me. I call bullshit on your comedy routine.
5. No informed prediction can compare to a true prophecy!
_________________________________________________________________
4/10 - at Venice Cafe:

Can I entertain you for a whole evening? Get ready! Get ready for a relaxing and stimulating evening. Loosen your belt, unzip your zipper, unbutton your jacket, take a load off. Make yourself at home. Make yourself a home in my home - carve yourself a corner. Carve it like a Thanksgiving turkey, like a carcass. Carve a corner like a charred carcass, then bed down and rest. Nest, set up camp, pitch your tent. My tent is pitched too, if you must know. ;-)

If you must? No, no no. Of course, you know, when I say home, what I'm really trying to talk about is a body, even my own body, even your body. Well, I'm always talking about somebody. If your body is a temple, my body is a way-station en route to heaven. Your body is a vessel. Your body is an empty cup and I'm a little teapot. Pour me out - does your cup runneth over? Have you had too much to drink? Do you think you have a pristine asshole? I know you have a pristine asshole. I can't wait to see you!
_________________________________________________________________
4/5 - at Meshuggah Cafe, with Strong Force, Jake Leech

3/15 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Catholic Guilt, Crisp Money Legends, Frank Hurricane:

Um, I know this is a "coffee shop show," but forget about that. Remember real parties? Remember abandon, oblivion, the yawning abyss - when being around other people meant the welcome embrace of friendship and not just the threat of crowds? 
_______________________________________________

*Catholic Guilt*
---indulgence, menace, chains

No soldiers of purity - routine is a "crutch." Playing against expectations.
______________________________________________

*Crisp Money Legends*
---consumption, "life of the party," entertainment

Is bragging always an act of cowardice? Picture boasting as an expression of heroism. Are you having fun?
________________________________________________

*Frank Hurricane*
---affirmation, "good vibes," cosmic

Frank is "the oldest baby in the world" - an unsullied, sincere smile, but still shrewd. Witness a positive self-mythologizing, devoid of cynicism and deception. 
______________________________________________

*Zak M*
---denial, "no hard feelings," carnal

Self-actualization exercise: you are the hero of your own fairy tale. Is it "everybody's footstool" or "controlled by evil forces"?
____________________________________________

Also this is both the "ides of March" and a couple days after my birthday, so feel free to mark this an ego-boosting device, self-celebration and an omen of doom, or something. "Haha" ...
_____________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________
3/6 - at Schlafly Tap Room, with Firedog

2013:

11/25 - at my house, with Perverted, Naan Violence, Ladder Shadows

11/24 - MEMPHIS, TN, at The Buccaneer, with Naan Violence, Gopes Busters

11/23 - NASHVILLE, TN, at Betty's, with Naan Violence 

11/22 - MACON, GA, at The Arts Exchange, with Naan Violence

11/20 - AUGUSTA, GA, at Soul Bar, with Naan Violence, Dream Tigers, BigHart

11/19 - TUSCALOOSA, AL, at Cracker Jack Shack, with Naan Violence, Ramble Tamble

11/18 - BEAUMONT, TX, at Kampus Korner, with Naan Violence, Unu

11/17 - HOUSTON, TX, at Super Happy Fun Land, with Naan Violence, John Amar

11/16 - AUSTIN, TX, at Hotel Vegas, with Naan Violence, Nots, Moving Finger

11/14 - NORMAN, OK, at The Bluebonnet, with Naan Violence, Brad Fielder

11/13 - BELOIT, WI, at Coughy Haus, with Naan Violence

11/11 - CHICAGO, IL, at 2729 W. Division, with Naan Violence, Breadhead, Angel Rainbow

11/8 - at PPHQ, with Will Huie, Bobby Stevens, Lesbian Poetry, Paper Ceilings

10/26 - at The Livery, with Durango, Peck of Dirt, Vanilla Beans, Old Capital Square Dance Club, Carriage House, Boreal Hills, The Maness Brothers, Googolplexia

10/19 - at Schlafly Tap Room, with Willis, Tory Z. Starbuck Project

10/12 - at Urban Chestnut

9/6 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with John Bellows, Problem, Melanympha

8/13 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Miguel Morte Valentine

7/20 - at Stag Nite in the Woods, with The Maness Brothers, Tacobellville, Fred Friction, Ellen the Felon and the Mattronome, Beauty Pageant, Bloodbath and Beyond, Old Capitol Square Dance Club, AZTV, Bruiser Queen, Bug Chaser, TOK, Skarekrau Radio, Black James 

6/20 - at CBGB, with Larva Lou, Zack Kouns, Spelling Bee

6/8 - BEAUMONT, TX, at Texas Rose Saloon, with Dangeresque, Jenny & the Reincarnation, The Gorgeous Hands

6/7 - AUSTIN, TX, at Annie Street Arts Collective, with Greg Mullen

6/1 - at RFT Music Showcase

5/26 - at Blank Space, with Beauty Pageant, Skarekrau Radio

5/18 - at Mrs. McCormick's Yard, with Rebecca Haldeman, Ghosts I Have Been

5/7 - at Blank Space, with Sundance Kids, Eternity

3/14 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Jake McKelvie

1/30 - at Urban Chestnut, with Robert Sarazin Blake

1/16 - at Mushmaus, with Names Divine, Sandra Lolo

2012:

11/29 - at Blank Space, with The Brainstems, Black Panties, DJ Invisible Cola

11/5 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Googolplexia, 3 of 5, Destroy Nate Allen

10/2 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with The Union Electric, Wilder Maker, Statue of Liberty

7/24 - at Momozone, with New Music Ensemble, Jeremy Melsha/Lee Isaacson/Rick Weaver

5/19 - CHICAGO, IL, at Versionfest '12, with Global Distance, Beauty Pageant

4/30 - at El Lenador, with Demonlover, Ou Ou

4/28 - at Randy's Recycled Cycles, with The Brainstems, DJ Invisible Cola