PAST:
2020:
1/18 - at Schlafly Tap Room, with Eric Hall, Temporal Marauder, Alex Cunningham & Damon Smith, Kendra Amalie
1/12 - XRII, at CBGB, with Googolplexia, Satan Section, Psychic Repor, Trauma Harness
1/4 - at Flood Plain, with Lisa Cameron:
The Minor Work
Black lint on yellow pants
Smeared gnats
Polka-dot broccoli spit
Musty foyer plastic ferns
Under-served praise, the syrupy ladle
Whoopee cushion pacifier
The ripe trough sustains the wide-mouth coffin
When it rains self-portrait
Barbecue beer gut
Bring your own bone to pick with
Fords the glut of swollen insight
Until we meet again
Luminescent bologna eggshell
Off-white assimilation decal
The self-care fiend will unravel the wrong wound
Honking rhinoplasty dust
Salmon necktie tourniquet
Turquoise veins the mealy shaft of light
Local apple flesh with gum blood
Stained-glass bleaches a coral volcano
I mother the hovel mothers me
The minor work
Genius with a pinecone-like object
Partial relief limns the family palm
The cute rune hanky, unfolded
Cranking the gory memento extruder
When emotional clarity snubs the time-based event
Serenely, my Contact Us
Awesome deluded eyewitness
The opportunist siphon
Jovial suspicion can invoke a fellow feeling
All-natural gasses
Whereas studious tolerance may foster detachment
Sugary misery
And pinky-swears the progress lie
Dead stock demeanor
Great lakes of fire
One guess manufactures the sanguine humor
What I call the scrubbing line
To tell this world
_________________________________________________________________
2019:
11/25 - at The Nest, with Jordan Reyes, Radiator Greys, Psychic Repor:
The ducks in the recording worked the register
I had trouble deciding what to buy
Avatar
1.
Be the face of someone else
Leopard print tortoise shell
The wishing well is ill
31 unlucky chemicals
Be the face of Mystic Tan
Liquidate the basking beauty
Last one in the rotten cauldron
must down the rancid cutie rind
Be the face of lemon-lime
Sublingual canker sore
The figurehead butterfly
who rigs the blue veneer awards
Be the alderman of temporary insanity
Bad optics embroidery
Thank your local charm offensive
New Age technology
Be the face of something new
Soft tissue paper
mustache W
Obsolete ostenatious device
2.
museum of fake omens
lost dog justice / will come for treats
rinses the blushing brain, my sudsy think piece
the chic pea, the cool ranch
dissonant blinkers metronome
3.
I hated to tell falsehoods
Full-length, moving across the ground
Some days shrink and scream
Yellow string
Paper Circle labeled SUN
Look around look around
The rubble could warp my mind
ringing the moody macaroni noodle necklace
where cold glitter wraps my engagement performance
Glaring the used sun
lest we discount the ugly shop
Camaraderie stains the bouncing ball
My horrible account
_________________________________________________________________
10/19 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with Extravision, Spectral Snake, Trent Dickerson:
1.
we heard a song
in the future
it was another crossover
2.
sleeping during the fight
rickety cabinets
serene pumpkin cloud floating
3.
the periwinkle invitation
hugs the gravel shoulder
the blurry bumper sticker
4.
at a remove at work
if I was wet there was fluid under my shirt
warning receding
5.
I thought about how the car smelled like
so I would not
we also saw sour sugar
6.
we found the door
I brought paper in
exchanging two sloshy visions
7.
alternating stern reproaches
I was
disguising laziness
8.
and we had a confusing conversation while
murmuring cicada gossip
at the house we sat in the sun on the back porch
9.
somehow I cannot stand apart
the nervous agent confided
the puzzle
10.
claustrophobia precipice
one pedal steel loop
he was speaking to the waistband area
11.
my eye focus in the whirlpool
furry esophagus shower drain
I recognized it in the bathroom
12.
on the way into the x-ray screening
involuntary groans
"police activity"
13.
he recommended what I declined
turning the corner
smooshes the bulging manilla
14.
sunshine salts the lens
he offered me a private room
a box of gifts
15.
bubble perspective
under the smirking red face
vocals
16.
bad driving to the house
perfume or air freshener
engulfing the rubber grip frown
17.
twinkling pangs
for such an hour
the image on the scanner smeared red
_________________________________________________________________
8/22 - at Chill Dawg Cove, with Wiggpaw & NNN Cook, Jeremy Kennedy, Bill Gass:
Beware Reward
in the final episode
worries seemed unfired
to make a payment
string swells
when hay fever fluids
soo it seemed unfocused
my clue
you may like
my brother and sister are coming
how I respectfully love
everybody tired of your ass
cultivating an exotic diet
north of dumb
is a customer of yours
creative destiny
probably I
sorry in the face of
pinching the condescending epiphany
free utility lifestyle
mourning the wake-up shot
my 3D cup
the rickety staircase
frontage road outer space
thinking about generators
running from death or something
polish off the fishing lure
fleeting
I admire your realistic portrayal
would write off
wax paper chicken
we talked about the panic hour
and the other line with
cornfields gag the moody lake
the wind was kicking my canvas tote
the new issue
in the resting room
arrange the bitchiest nah
the chronicles of see attached
documents
the blushing loop
in the morning
stinking wet wicker
_________________________________________________________________
8/17 - at The Nest, with Frank Hurricane, hover, Heavy Pauses, Rolf Nadir, Emily Thornton:
Why Open
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
_________________________________________________________________
6/22 - RFT Showcase, at Gezellig:
1
across the industrial windows
grotesque fluffy clouds floating across
groggy squishes the marshmallow morning
an endless noodle ballooning
2
hindsight will sizzle any apparition
any humid august ouroboros vibrating dead gray
tiger beat cracks the beige corridor open boom
heroic sneakers booming
3
ants patrol the carpeted corridor
ceiling fan detritus encircles folded spaghetti straps
rage casts an ornate shadow the ugliest stained-glass window
disgusting ice cubes in the rank freezer
4
dispensing pearls of wisdom squeeze the oozing pimple
drool shimmers translucent
from colorless lips issuing neck-fold stubble burns
scowling puddle reflection
5
nostalgia wears a spandex hourglass girdle
the stretchy pillow cringing and frowning
31 years bunny ears knot
anxiety kisses the mouth of a laughing volcano
6
lightning strikes a pinata a coincidence
lazy river sewage
the fake riverbed belches the plunging waste
swinging smoke drifts askew
7
panting the bendy straw syringe
the 32 ounce wax paper cup
melting the brutal station
yellow shell station husk
8
circling the circular conversation
the citrusy air freshener
embraces begrudging the mildew bloom room
reluctant flirtation spy
9
anything can disenchant a wheezing castoff
wetting even the wet wrinkly collar
yawning apprehension freckles the sunrise
blind oozing through clattering blinds
snoozing the vacuum
INFINITY GROUPS
The night table is a card table
The loud birds heckle the VP Parade
Something happens at the end of every sentence
Poison ivy misdirection
Smiling the liable baggy of salt
We belong to the same cult
Under the normal sky, real trees and commerce
Flowering trees and gutters of vomit
We scrub the altar of arbitrary value
Kelly green pistachio
Money snubs the needy sunflower
The loud baby provokes the loud birds
Within the hostile landscape, objects and situations
Butcher paper and construction paper
We turn the gold eyeglass repair kit flat-head
The trash roll-out murders the sidewalk grass
Nursing the bruised fragment
We share a misunderstanding
We rehearse strategic remorse
After, from Before and After
In three worlds, landlords rejoice
Beyond the illusion of choice
We choose what rocks choose, what lions choose
We trace our respective translucent pupusa-prints
Across the verdant pasture, the ceiling fan blows tornadic
The feral refrigerator babbles
The people overreact, unspooling crinkled magnetic tape
We think the paper reads
Suggestion whispers a fake message
The abandoned blog refreshes
The stripey shirt distorts the camouflage necklace
Laughing distorts the new cloth mask
Defying the shelf-life sticker
We belong together
When weather radar maps scream
We buffer the fingertip screen
Sirens drown the talking people
Pinching the asylum steeple
This wall divides us
This curved, glass-block bathroom
Six states and two states of mind
Apathy, resentment and short-term memory loss
Romantic, monastic aspirations moody
Covet the bandana mildew
What finagles from success receding
Three species of money and a grunt work sentence
Good dogs, bad dogs and the dominance listing
Hazy selfies
Wind whistling through a copper earring
Any droopy barrel reflection
Divergent strategies of disavowal
Cartoon blankets and towels
Electric blankets and cold tarps
The only punk house deadbolt, latched
Self-improvement theater bandaging self-erasure
Paper-bag factory assembly-lines and other self-myth accessories
Eyelash aversion therapy
Tamarind racquetball cocktail nausea
Opposite excommunication communication devices
Ice, pine and stoic beaches
Numb affection at cross-purposes
Swallowed words
Leather bones knocking
Trick pushups and unusual walking postures
Sagging twin mattresses, seething
_________________________________________________________________
4/18 - at Schlafly Tap Room, with Charmaine's Names, Ellen Hilton Cook, Whsky Janetor:
Not: Not, Not, Not
The hand truck, the Raisin Bran pantry moth,
churns the soggy wheel, the milksop,
impaling the hospital cheeseburger,
sour hiccup.
Undoing the rubber granny,
the granny knot slipping, the rubber hose knot,
impaling the hospital cheeseburger,
the chemical cough.
Point of information, clarity
and condescension, people as trees
or epiphytes, a mossy outlook
with boughs swaying.
Confidence betrayal, interrupt
the TED Talk, the ugly tyranny
of self-confidence, the birdsong deterrent,
NO VACANCY, vacantly.
Whispering, the smartest smart speaker,
maneuver the haunted pickup,
impaling the hospital cheeseburger,
sour hiccup.
Winter
the payphone butt
the oily diner booth good morning
ford the slush across the street
overturned cars on frozen mashed potato alley
the abject sponge mop
the crinkled metal failure
scrape the shiny coca-cola spill
the mop water shadow
the chalky deodorant
the rancid body spray
the plunky guitar
the raw melon rind
Evil
Concussion birdies circle. Dehumidifier-bucket bugs linger.
Armpit-yellow diet cheese puffs
with a Globe Drug sandpaper aftertaste
hug the wet teeth, the evil singer,
whose package diet will even out-
live a guilty conscience and a tough
demeanor for 24 hours,
decomposing fragrant 24 hours.
Clinking footprints, evil like Al Capp.
Plexiglass shudders the 24 hour
teller window sentimental. Hot trash
gusts embolden leftovers scroungers.
I don't remember for 24 hours.
I champion the diet of worms
and Paleo. Dimpled evil like Bob Romanik.
Tragic loyalty engulfs 24 hours.
Incandescent runoff will issue a firm
denial, will equivocate - The Thinker
in miniature, with accolades. An evil
guitar chord embellishes quick scary acts.
Ancient mustard and lecherous milk
patrol the refrigerator stink,
the sticky glass. Sticky finger-
prints resemble mushy forest floor leaves.
I am only my own evil behavior. I envy
what children own. Complacent evil,
like surrender. Suspend disbelief.
A Murky Screen and a Mood Disorder in Every Home
Recite the alphabet soup noodle necklace:
~ DONT GET THE WRONG IDEA ~
Leave your sense of humor at the door beside the free box.
I was born like this.
Born and raised on the Chicxulub meteor.
Eye-witness to oblivion, I choose not to be myself.
I witness oblivion:
the ugliest food snap,
whose styrofoam lens flare haunts my waking hours.
Crack open a fresh canister.
The content is under extreme pressure.
I am the dog whose hackles raise for every opening umbrella.
On the wagon, circling the wagons.
I revile the Saint of Beauty and his glossy expression.
Ten crystal balls - my ten fingernail crescents.
_________________________________________________________________
3/9 - MEMPHIS, TN: at Lamplighter Lounge, with Sloopy McCoy, Chuck Vicious
3/8 - CHATTANOOGA, TN: at The Spot, with Sloopy McCoy, Baby Magick &Tape Canvas, Landis
3/7 - ATHENS, GA: at The Mill, with Frank Hurricane, Sloopy McCoy, Home Body, Harry Carey
3/6 - ASHEVILLE, NC: at Static Age, with Space Grandma, Jules, Sloopy McCoy
3/4 - NASHVILLE, TN: at Nanner Manor, with Sloopy McCoy, Abstract Black, Sean Hamilton
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:
Autobiography
I was born in a hospital,
born in the animal sense,
reborn in the moon of ripe plums
when possums gorge -
born-again in the religious sense.
I died an old man.
I was born:
I emerged from a secondhand horse womb, sweating.
My animal self is threatened.
My animal self is endangered.
The stars in the sky look down.
I die a little every time.
I was born on a factory farm.
Gloved farmhands stole my placenta
for the beauty treatment corporation.
My animal self is a Food Lion,
a coiled spring pouncing,
a faulty sun-dial with a smiling, curved shadow.
I was often observed
quietly observing traffic signals,
extracting rich, red ear wax with my pinky nail,
and nimbly dodging the level crossing on foot.
When I died, house centipedes across America
tagged me in their Facebook posts.
IRL
Pink roses in a glass vase
hold the red book fast,
past
any Peace/Love marketing.
Cradling
the canary
yellow purse, the raspberry
clutch.
This is a Dollar Tree Midas touch.
Plastic vines vein the balcony
where cast falcons
perch.
"Put it in quotes" will narrow the search,
will trigger the sirens.
The fire
smiles
on every scabby, pug-nosed child.
Style
is an oasis for recycled
content. The painted face.
I am what makeup erases,
clean living in motion, wretched wheel,
real
life.
_________________________________________________________________
2018:
11/22 - at The Bri-Zone, with Sloopy McCoy, Dank Fizzer, Fragile Farm
11/1 - at Schlafly Tap Room, with Glued, Locate s,1:
1.
Like a chainsaw carving bear wobbling in the dry wind, the fresh air, I wobbled onto Race Course Avenue and into parked Race Course Avenue cars lurking in the autumn moonlight.
I was living like a crooked monk.
I was sick on a Ford truck.
I was leaky gut sick, decaying, beyond soul-renewal, sick in spirit, sentimental and afraid, sentimental and dirt-entrusted, sentimental and lemony-scented.
With my free, scented hand, I swung for a grip, a hand-hold.
My gross hand sought a grip too, and dry dirt to smear with, grip and smear onto.
Dawn introduced light, the kiss of shame.
Dawn introduced light, the kiss of dirt, the plastic frame, and sealed the dirty, cheerful day.
I saw my dirty face captured on a warm screen.
2.
Beside the sewage runoff - there was
and there wasn't - one filthy goose,
loose fingernail crescents, cinnamon candies,
two jaded city ducks gawking.
Three quick gnats ran across my eyelashes;
one drowned in glistening tear duct mucus.
This was when I was always en route,
always O-M-W, coat pockets bulging.
I saw four fat crows tease the Hampton Village
idiot, beside fugitive shopping carts squealing.
Now, I have been rewarded and I have been mistaken.
I've insinuated through the bouncer's frown
and velvet stanchions. I have known
charisma, wielded like a heavy stone,
brandished like an open-ended question.
And while the crows were dressing down,
I recognized chaotic children sounds:
tiny sneakers' pounding crushing bus stop chicken bones,
bullies jeering vaguely in the distance -
and overtaking these at intervals, the proud crosswalk robot.
3.
1 Theory
Throw Coca-Cola in
a skillet. Boil it.
White, black and brown
residue. Feel the energy
jacket. Coincidence
is the most precious
asset. Pull your favorite
light pull - move heat.
Intention is one specious
aspect. The black yellow
jacket who sleeps under
the old stone fountain
buzzes. The dead sun
flower droops.
4.
I Dis A Vow
The urban jungle is a cultural wasteland.
Every animal sound is a notification.
My seed bomb is a Cosmic Brownie wrapper
when I climb up on Garbage Mountain.
When I pave-over sacred ground,
I raise the Season's Greetings banner.
When I traverse the side-yard weeds,
I become a bramble pincushion.
Loneliness is freedom from invitation.
Urban renewal is a urinal cake.
Here comes the Here Comes the Neighborhood storefront decal.
My growling stomach startles the squirrels in the attic.
I know I'm not the first whippersnapper
to piss in the ceremonial washbasin,
but whenever I kiss the ancestor-face,
I hemorrhage social capital.
Now I am opening another new window.
I am alienated from my own feelings.
Despair is a donut with a nail in it,
and I have one for every beer can in the John F. Kennedy Forest.
_________________________________________________________________
9/25 - at The Juice, with Staffers, Kids, Swollen:
1.
With a stronger drink you might forget, you
might forget your first drink. The
other boss knew a
different way. It was a
different way. It was a complicated
different way. It was a soggier
hamburger. It was an overrated
greenhouse, a drab house with plate
glass walls and a sugar
glass soul, crepuscular and
glassy, twinkly,
where flies mind your glass
and you don’t have to ask.
It was even four or five hours past.
It was even four or
it was even for forgiveness.
I know the answer.
I watched the second hand whisper,
the secondhand smoker.
The black dog was winking.
2.
The mountain was too unruly, we thought.
The mountain was too
show-offy, too double-jointed.
We quarrelled over rotten fruit.
The storm flooded the pond, anointed
every school bus, flooded
every school bus, flooded every pond
in the greater pond region. The flood
drew gawking southern tourists with palm frond
t-shirts and funny mud
flaps with real mud dripping, real mud
flaps with real mud dripping.
I coughed a dripping
mucus thing. You thought I was smirking
when I was coughing, and your lip
was curling when it
was curling, when it
never needed help in the first place, when
it might have always been like this, the lip,
wobbling off the phony friend.
3.
Whenever I had to,
I would, whenever, but just to describe
in detail, with fresh eyes, every torn shoe,
and fast enough to make new
observations, to
festoon my blah-blah oration with blue
diamonds, aquamarine rings, blue
sapphire screens with faint glue
residue where glue smeared cracks, and faint
residue where glue smeared cracks, and faint glue
residue where glue smeared cracks, and faint
glue fingerprints smudging every slick
birthstone surface, rain
or shine. Whenever I could not sustain
my groove, when back pain
or dull numbness strained
my endurance, or rain
scared away the impatient audience,
I would swat the crumbs off my lap and laugh.
I would swat the crumbs off my lap.
_________________________________________________________________
9/17 - at Kismet, with Fragile Farm, motherbear, ppoacher ppoacher, Liv Lombardi:
1.
Dirt is alive.
All the bugs
eat our fat
after we're gone.
Five years look for me
in a tree,
astride an amber escalator.
The cat will mew.
This is Yin Yang.
This is looking
in a mirror,
in a hologram sticker,
in every plastic acorn piggy bank,
where tiny pinecones jingle.
I saw hay bale straw
on a muddy County median
and beside the ornamental frogs -
a polyester watermelon flapping,
where golf cart spit
swaddles waxy wrappers.
This is bad and scary,
when wafting ammonia coughs,
when any wrinkled timebomb
can drool with impunity.
I saw the large red moon
regard the complacent can.
I saw the moonlight
absolve every tan line.
2.
I would wake up the street with my plastic comb,
my nonsense language,
my fluid nonsense persona,
with fat folds swathed in wind-swept cherry print fabric
underneath well-worn yarn.
The plastic rain jacket somehow stung so hard.
And having finished the job,
I would yelp to you like this,
remembering spears of water from the cheap shower,
remembering time fluid with ribbons of fat,
plastic bottles of water and fresh cherries in baskets,
where “Free Onions” milk crates haunt the yard.
Somehow that was five hours away in reality,
down the road and across the street,
beside the House Road road sign.
_________________________________________________________________
8/10 - at Beatnik Bob's, with Reaches, JoAnn McNeil, ex salis:
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
_________________________________________________________________
7/14 - at Foam, with Marisa Anderson
6/17 - Showcase STL, at Layla
6/5 - at Kismet, with Danielle Taylor Williams, Liz Durette, Blank Thomas
4/26 - at Foam Coffee & Beer, with RANDI, Dee Bird, Scott William
4/18 - at The Ready Room, with Ish, Spaceship, Syna So Pro
4/1 - at Flop House, with Frank Hurricane, Jewel Eye, Mother Meat, Antonio Douglas Leone, Dylan Schnitker
3/17 - at El Lenador, with ex salis, Jack Toft, Li'l Smokie, Cranky Yellow, DJ Floodgate:
The Fake Wind
1.
Afterward you would describe
him as magnetic. The
sort of food we
ate reminded me of
a farm. So hungry,
shaking, I finished the
dozen. You entered after.
I traded cash for
my portion. You said
you would call your
friend. I would tear
out the soft, doughy
center for you, I
swore, I would cut
the crusts. At one
point you went upstairs
to sleep. I ate
a honey bun and
licked the wrapper clean.
Later at my apartment
I sucked my sticky
thumb. I was having
fun, but I was
also worried: perhaps you
would not have enough
influence with this audience.
2.
The following evening I
watched the three actors
eat. I crouched behind
a bush. The way
I crouched made my
fingers numb. I kneaded
my right shoulder. For
some reason I thought
that was the problem.
I would cite the
privilege of intimate knowledge
if they caught me
watching, and I would
even offer to pay
admission. I heard one
describing how he suffered
from a mysterious ailment.
He sucked a squeaky
breath between each word.
And though his expression
signalled honesty, I could
not tell if it
was an act. His
labored breath resembled the
churn of a ceiling
fan with a dust
problem. It reminded me:
I had a ceiling
fan once. When I
pulled the metal string,
the spinning would accelerate.
3.
It became difficult to
see the actors after
the sun went down,
and when someone lit
a lantern, I nearly
screamed. I knew the
big event was imminent.
4.
I saw one in
the lobby after. Did
I make a sound?
She was wearing one
of her signature tall
hats. Anxiety colored my
perception. I laughed nervously.
I tried to avoid
her eyes. Did she
know what I saw?
How did she find
out? That suspicious grin,
self-satisfied. I thought maybe
the continental breakfast would
soothe me, I can't
remember why. She sat
in a chair across
from the booth where
I sat. She knew
I saw - I saw
it happen. I knew
the table between us
would not protect me.
A Dream (excerpt)
Lightshow flames erupt from fire-spitting machines
We saw through gate bars
through mist plumes
before the glow of panic
Below us
two cold, blue eighteen-wheelers nestled
When I was dreaming
I dreamed I saw one forehead furrow loosening
The Tantrum
In a final cinematic
gesture, Froggy
paused at the front
entryway and
swiveled.
In this story, Froggy is a
villain.
Froggy cast a glare
across the living room,
spat twice and spun,
slamming the screen
door triumphantly on
the way out.
In the shocked pause
after, I watched
Froggy’s spit soak into
the green carpet.
Eventually I scrubbed it
in with my sneaker sole
until the dark moisture
mark faded.
You broke the silence
with a generous offer.
With fewer people, it
would be easier to split.
I saw a dusty guitar,
unstrung, propped
beside the couch like a
bachelor prop. Empty
growlers on the
counter.
You seemed worried.
I remember I was
wearing my purple hat.
I said I doubted Froggy
would remember and
that I thought these
manic episodes
transcended instant
recall.
I remember you were
wearing a t-shirt with
an image of a goose
on it. Maybe the
image of the goose is
what set Froggy off.
Whatever the cause,
Froggy’s tantrum threw
a sad shadow across
the summer evening.
I flipped through one
of Froggy’s chapbooks
I saw you had. It was
the one with the
Townes Van Zandt
quote on the back.
I wanted to go home,
but because you said
you would feel unsafe
at your house alone, I
said I would keep you
company. For this
reason, I was with you
when Froggy returned.
Several aspects of
Froggy’s appearance
had changed, I noticed.
One button was
missing from Froggy’s
jacket and one shoe
was untied. Vomit
caked Froggy’s mesh
jersey.
I thought about when
you first described
Froggy to me. Froggy
was just your crush
then, scrawny with
raccoon eyes.
When I thought about
you describing Froggy’s
charms, I shuddered.
I tried to put it out of
my mind.
Instead I should
concentrate, I thought.
I should focus on
mediating between you
two.
Froggy’s haphazard
apology struck me as a
particularly East Coast
gesture, for whatever
reason.
I wanted to try some,
but I was unsure how
Froggy would react - I
had not used in
Froggy’s presence at
that point.
Recognizing my
apparent discomfort,
Froggy condemned me
with an unusual and
complicated mocking
noise. It sounded like a
loud fart, an air horn
effect, and a goose
honk all ringing out in
unison - a raspberry
chorus.
I should leave, I
thought. I have
overstayed my
welcome.
You seemed
embarrassed but said
nothing.
Froggy casually moved
to block the door.
I could smell Froggy’s
breath across the
room.
_________________________________________________________________
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!
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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.
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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 . . .
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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]
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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!
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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!
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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.
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*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" ...
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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