bademailname

"A medium made only of words does'nt impose the barrier of any other medium. It is naked and unprotected communication. That's how you get pregnant. May you always be so." -Roger Ebert

2011-04-17T12:01:00.001-04:00

BatVespa

2010-12-02T22:17:00.001-05:00

Holy three-wheeler, Batman!

BatVespa

2010-12-02T11:23:00.001-05:00

Holy three-wheeler, Batman!

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/boingboing/iBag/~3/NZMtHwtp73w/london-cops-shut-dow.html

2010-11-17T11:42:00.001-05:00

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/boingboing/iBag/~3/xa5emf8S_ko/achtung-tsa.html

http://yro.slashdot.org/story/10/11/17/0250235/Cooks-Source-Magazine-Apologizes-mdash-Sort-Of?from=rss

Fela, now featuring Patti LaBelle. She rocks. End of line.

2010-09-09T15:51:00.001-04:00

I am afraid for our future generation when this great nation of ours breeds fear instead of tolerance, violence instead of peace, hate instead of love. Ignorance of a thing does not mean you must fear it. This is especially true when it pertains to a third of the world's people.

2010-08-30T00:07:00.001-04:00

Good morning, world! You know the drill: Love and be loved. And as always: Be good, or be good at it.

2010-08-25T09:25:00.001-04:00

Dick Cavett is smarter than your average American. Sanity will prevail! http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/08/20/real-americans-please-stand-up/?src=tptw

2010-08-23T17:16:00.001-04:00

Just been cast as the comic relief in an Equity showcase, which runs in late Oct. and early Nov. Hooray, I get to be funny!

2010-08-06T15:52:00.001-04:00

Just cast in a new short play, "Antipasto", for the Samuel French Festival. Come watch the festival on July 16, and see me perform at 9pm. Looking forward to seeing you!

2010-07-02T22:39:00.001-04:00

Just saw the Robyn video. The lack of oldskool 3D glasses is #killingme. www.robin.com/killingme

2010-06-30T09:19:00.001-04:00

Dear Texas, Really? You want to write civil rights, slavery, separation of church and state, and frickin' Thomas Jefferson out of our history books? Listen, I'm certain that your entire state is NOT populated by backwater hicks, as evidenced by the location of my beautiful sister and niece; so stop assuming America is full of gun-and-god-loving capitalist Neocrats. Love, This Guy. http://news.slashdot.org/story/10/05/16/211238/Texas-Schools-Board-Rewriting-US-History http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/may/16/texas-schools-rewrites-us-history http://news.slashdot.org/story/10/02/12/182223/Texas-Textbooks-Battle-Is-Actually-an-American-War

2010-05-17T09:54:00.001-04:00

Maison Blanc

2010-05-15T17:25:00.001-04:00

Glenn Beck has Nazi Tourette's. Priceless. http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/wed-may-12-2010/back-in-black---glenn-beck-s-nazi-tourette-s

2010-05-13T23:56:00.001-04:00

New tenant

2010-05-04T14:17:00.001-04:00

2010-05-04T13:40:00.001-04:00

I have discovered that today is "Star Wars" Day. May the Fourth be with you.

Bicycle cozy

2010-05-04T00:00:00.001-04:00

I am extraordinarily pleased to announce I am officially cast in a new play by Michael Marceline called "Laughing All Along." It opens June 3. Details are forthcoming!

2010-04-19T09:56:00.001-04:00

2010-04-19T09:40:00.001-04:00

Around The Block, purveyor of fine scripts and talent, will be hosting another play reading on May 1, 2010, featuring yours truly. These are all new and/or workshopped plays.
We will be at the Hamilton Fish Branch of the New York Public Library, 415 East Houston. The closest train is the F, at either the Second Avenue stop or the Essex/Delancy stop; alternately the M14 bus will drop you right next to the Library.

The reading will start promptly at 2:00 P.M.

2010-03-28T22:25:00.001-04:00

"It's very dear to me, the issue of gay marriage. Or as I like to call it: 'marriage.' You know, because I had lunch this afternoon, not gay lunch. I parked my car; I didn't gay park it" -Liz Feldman

2010-03-14T11:54:00.001-04:00

Happy Pi Day, fellow geeks! Just think, in five years we'll celebrate Super Pi Day.

I like my history to have a little Jefferson in it.

2010-03-13T20:34:00.001-05:00

2009-05-19T00:02:00.001-04:00

07:18 Since when did waking up at 5AM stop being so difficult? I actually beat the alarm. Get me off this crazy train! #

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2009-05-12T00:02:00.001-04:00

07:06 Exhausting yet phenomenal weekend, courtesy of girlfriend, CBC Media and fellow actors in good humor. Sleep beckons after two straight o ... #

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2009-05-08T00:06:00.001-04:00

15:49 Booked another commercial, same company. Missing that one girl. Abhorring the low-talkers sitting ten feet away from me. Pick 1 or more. #

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2009-05-05T00:02:00.001-04:00

13:19 Totally forgot there's no longer a Mon. afternoon shift. S'what I get for not writing things in 20 different places. In other news, I lo ... #

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2009-05-02T00:02:00.001-04:00

11:19 Justice Souter's retiring. Oh HELLS YEAH. tinyurl.com/dx8xf3 #

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2009-05-01T00:02:00.001-04:00

19:11 My love, my friends, and my parents are all chock full of Awesome -- just to make that abundantly clear. I love you all. (Especiallly You.) #

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2009-04-30T00:02:00.001-04:00

15:49 Goddammit. I hate missing her already. #

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2009-04-29T00:02:00.001-04:00

18:23 Finally moved into Manhattan! Queens is now a past tense of good food, mostly good people, and infuriating bus rides. #

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2009-04-28T00:03:00.001-04:00

18:36 In Bloomingdales on purpose, reeling from the oxygen they pump into the building, and maybe a little cofee deprivation. #

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2009-04-26T00:02:00.001-04:00

11:05 Enjoying the wondertastic and beautiferous 80-degree weather NYC has this weekend. Going to watch a loosely-scripted play to decide if I ... #

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2009-04-25T00:04:00.001-04:00

09:58 Awakening with tomato sauce in one's hair is much more romantic than it sounds. Also, fewer items and trips to Queens; down to the wire! #

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2009-04-24T00:02:00.001-04:00

12:03 Today's business is mundane; my heart/body/mind/soul is anything but. #

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2009-04-23T00:02:00.001-04:00

15:22 Nearing completion on the move to Manhattan; enjoying the last several days with Thia before she goes on tour; struggling to understand ... #

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2009-04-22T00:03:00.001-04:00

21:08 A breakthrough which technically began years ago has finally crested today ... hopefully. Also, filmed three scenes by noon. #

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2009-04-21T00:02:00.001-04:00

10:21 Moving this week into a New York, NY address! Goodbye Queens, I loved thine food and fellows, but will miss ye only slightly. #

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2009-04-20T00:02:00.001-04:00

10:02 Had an amazing start to the morning. Looking forward to what else the day brings! #

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2009-04-19T00:02:00.001-04:00

07:23 Screening last night: yay. Shooting a commercial today: yay. Waking at 5:30a to catch a 7:30 train to Long Island to shoot said commerci ... #
10:59 Apparently I'm being a whiny bitch. But at least I'm a whiny bitch in love. (who also wants a nap.) #
19:45 I got a 5 gallon jug of ice water dumped on me, not once, not twice, but five times. Ah, the things we do for money. #

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2009-04-18T00:03:00.001-04:00

06:11 Waking before dawn: boo. Attending a screening of a film I'm in: yay! #

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2009-04-17T00:02:00.001-04:00

13:52 Booked a commercial that shoots this weekend. Nothing too fancy, a regional piece I believe, but a welcome event. #

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2009-04-16T00:03:00.001-04:00

12:32 In the words of the infamous Earl Brake: "Happy Hump Day, my friends." I've never seen anyone else pull off the bolo tie like that man. #
18:01 In a fit of poetic irony, I am intolerant of intolerant people. Just as ignorance is no excuse for lawbreaking, it is also no excuse for ... #

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2009-04-15T00:03:00.001-04:00

11:10 Looking forward to receiving and viewing my reel today. Otherwise, it's friggin' cold. #

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2009-04-14T00:08:00.001-04:00

10:30 Two auditions today. That's two more than I thought I'd get. This whole dilligence thing actually works! #
15:55 Is not going to a scanny life-coaching session; sorry JP. Something does not compute. Don't get swindled. #

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2009-04-11T00:02:00.001-04:00

09:15 I wish the universe took the phrase "starving artist" less literally sometimes. Also, shooting tonight. #

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2009-04-10T00:02:00.001-04:00

11:06 Enjoys spending mornings lollygagging and making toast, tea, coffee and love. Not necessarily in that order. #

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2009-04-09T00:03:00.001-04:00

16:48 I don't feel like I use my phone that often until the battery dies; whereupon the single most important thing is getting my stinking pho ... #

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2009-04-07T00:02:00.001-04:00

10:33 It's cold and rainy in Brooklyn, and I'm costumed like a cheap Russian thug. All I need is a crew-cut and a fat herring-bone chain. #

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2009-04-05T00:01:00.001-04:00

15:30 I'm listening to high-school choirs at the Heritage Festival at Riverside Church NYC; and having flashbacks of our own completely awesom ... #

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Tweets for Today

2008-12-21T00:27:00.001-05:00

05:37 I told her to shut up and she threw me out of her life. Does that sound reasonable to you? If so, please explain it to me; i'm pretty lost. #

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Prop 8: The Musical

2008-12-04T10:44:00.003-05:00

Yes, I know I haven't posted in FOREVER and a day. Besides, it's not like I have any readers. This is more for my own benefit.

Anyway, to anyone that just so happens to come across this post:

This is the best use of the "ensemble cast" I've ever seen.

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

Help me out here. I see John C. Reily, Jack Black, Neil Patrick Harris, Conan's old co-host Andy, that one woman, and that other guy, and many many others. Thank you, Funny or Die. Thank. You.

Acceptance

2008-09-14T13:52:00.004-04:00

Skidding down the tracks
at fifty miles per hour,
bile crawling up my
throat vexing the interstate
hexing the interstitial highway.

The blue sky is a
far cry from the black cloud
hung above my head,
and me without my umbrella.

Maybe metaphors are useless.
I just want to break something.
Too bad my bookbag is weighed down
with tissue and used toilet paper.
There's a time where I want to say
I'm sorry, or
I forgive you, or
I wish this could have turned out differently.
There's a time where all the words
built up around our little brittle
brick walls could have poured in
from a cement truck,
but those fucking union workers were on break
drinking lattes from the trendy joint on the corner.

Besides, you just handed me the keys.
Said "Have a nice life."

That was weeks ago.

I careen down the 42nd Street river,
the downpour harder than my cock during a
spectacular blowjob, and I slide past the vendors
offering soup for the soul, past the tourists
gobbling the city for the last time, past the map givers,
past the guy selling bus rides, past the fliers
advertising commerce or shame (or both), past the comedy shows
where nothing is funny and everyone laughs.

My eyes scream in monochrome.
The devil has half its job done,
just waits for me to place
my other hand to the stove.

But I still forgive you.

Acceptance by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

An Imaginary Conversation With My Girlfriend

2008-08-21T01:28:00.002-04:00

The urinals at work are awful.
They comprise some of the
worst design choices I have
ever witnessed or been privy to.
The thing is 'V'-shaped, which
would be OK in most situations, but
is made at such a severe angle that
the backsplash returns
a full stream right on your pants.

Every time I use it I can
see the droplets spring forth from the porcelain
with such force it's everything
I can do to dodge them while
still maintaining a respectable distance
from the stall. My
feet must part an extra foot
at an equally acute angle as the urinal.

The floor wets itself every
time, as a nod to its own design flaws.
God forbid I strike the
dome-shaped drain with my pee-stream --
it guffaws as it throws yellow
drops straight at my face.

The pink sterile smelling cakes
are just more obstacles to traverse.
Ultimately, I have two choices - constant
vigilance to protect my shoes,
or the toilet stool.

I tell you this
because you listen.
I wish I had a story about
some incredible sale I made,
or how my
coworker is having lunch
with Tommy Lee Jones tomorrow. But
my day isn't fraught
with interesting goings-on.

Nay, it's the urinals or silence.

In conclusion, my pants stayed dry today.

An Imaginary Conversation With My Girlfriend by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

Name Calling

2008-08-21T01:17:00.003-04:00

You fat, ugly cunt.

You waste of skin, you
harried and unrepentant bitch. You filthy
piece of humanity, you poor,
snobbed misguided
form, you sincerely large pile of saggy tits
and loose pussy, you callous-handed harbinger of pain
and suffering.

You immature half of a person,
you child, you
indescribably bad liar, you cavorting slut, you
sad excuse for a woman, you undesirable piece
of female genitalia, you reason men turn gay.

You paunch of disgust and reverb, you mannish hen, you
sorry grub of musical talent, you infinitesimally
intelligent sow, you beady-eyed con artist,
you slow-witted wonder of molecules, you attention-
seeking thrill rat, you drug-addled
veil of sycophantic maina.

You hypocritical mass of hysterics.

I used to love you.

Name Calling by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

The 100th Post.

2008-08-21T01:16:00.002-04:00

Is boring. Move on to the next one please.

Oh, and be good, or be good at it.

Tweets for Today

2008-08-08T00:13:00.001-04:00

13:45 American sentence: I suppose it's too much to ask for a near-perfect year; lest a day. #

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Tweets for Today

2008-08-06T00:11:00.001-04:00

22:07 American sentence: It's easy to forget someone when they're not around in the first place. #

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Tweets for Today

2008-08-05T00:14:00.001-04:00

21:28 American sentence: The way my phone rings when I think of you is both creepy and awesome. #

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Tweets for Today

2008-08-04T00:09:00.001-04:00

22:34 American sentence: The subway is close enough to touch but its skin isn't soft enough. #

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Tweets for Today

2008-07-05T00:15:00.001-04:00

00:45 I have had foot-in-mouth disorder since I can remember. I should go barefoot in public so I wouldn't have to eat sidewalk gum every day. #

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AVG Antivirus is Slimy, Time For New Solution

2008-07-03T14:55:00.004-04:00

Grisoft's AVG Antivirus product is one of several AV freebies, but historically it has been one of only a few worth it's salt. That is until today, when Slashdot notified the intertubes that Grisoft are devious, slimy, underhanded (and various and sundry other synonyms) bandwidth crooks. From the article:

Essentially, users of the software automatically pre-crawl search results, which is bad, but they do so with an intentionally generic user agent. This is flooding websites with meaningless traffic

In the spirit of disclosure, I knew that AVG crawled my Google search results, but I had no idea it was doing so surreptitiously. This, dear friends, is utter bullshit. In these nascent days of pay-per-byte bandwidth, it increases site traffic from every AVG user -- including me -- which at best is just a crappy tactic, and at worst could feasibly raise rates for everyone's pipes.

For me, it means going back to memory-hog Avast! AV, because I'm cheap and I don't want to pay for a shiny new Kaspersky license.

Update 07-03-08, 9:50pm: As it turns out, Kaspersky allows you to use an older activation code for their latest version, provided the code hasn't been used or its time hasn't run out. I just so happen to have an unactivated promotional copy of Kaspersky Internet Security 6.0; I now have an updated (7.0.1.325) version of KIS with a full year of updates. Woohoo!

via /.

Tweets for Today

2008-07-02T00:43:00.001-04:00

11:20 First Kiss: Why, when I get butterflies, are they more like rhinoceroses? #
22:24 Animal packs trounce in my stomach again. You hide behind feather curtains and howl at the wind. The cliffs never did you harm. #

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Tweets for Today

2008-07-01T02:04:00.001-04:00

22:55 I haven't smoked a cigarette because I still smell your lip balm on my mouth. #

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Tweets for Today

2008-06-28T00:10:00.001-04:00

19:33 Joblessness is akin to hopelessness. Creative writer, actor, poet, computer geek, seeks employment. Back-breaking straws are piling up. #
19:37 Wondering aloud: why do I play freecell on the subway instead of writing -- or tweeting for that matter? On the bus now, does that count? #

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Tweets for Today

2008-06-26T00:22:00.001-04:00

18:24 Letter C: Craving contact, I cavort with cunning linguists. I feel callow today. Blah blah blah. Something with cameras & camraderie. #
00:11 American Sentence #6: Maybe I am a bad boyfriend, but I'm the best saran wrap ever. #

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Tweets for Today

2008-06-23T00:09:00.001-04:00

20:52 Heavy: If I could but weigh my dreams, perhaps on a cosmic scale, I wonder if they would still amount to nothing. #

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Tweets for Today

2008-06-21T00:15:00.001-04:00

23:08 A Pontification of Inner Feelings Revealed Through A Jealous Rage: Sons of bitches. #

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Tweets for Today

2008-06-20T00:46:00.001-04:00

11:52 Yes, you can censor my words; my middle finger is also silent. #
16:49 American Sentence #1: My head's in the clouds in juxtaposition to your cemented boots. #

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Tweets for Today

2008-06-18T00:39:00.001-04:00

01:35 American Sentence: Yes, you can censor my words; my middle finger is also silent. #
15:02 Masturbation is not a hobby. It is a lifetime case study. #

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White House: "What Email?"

2008-06-17T03:13:00.004-04:00

The White House is not required to turn over records of its absconding MILLIONS of emails, CNN reports. Snip:

The ruling by U.S. District Judge Colleen Kollar-Kotelly found the agency does not have "substantial independent authority" so it is not subject to the Freedom of Information Act.

Well, fuck.

CNN via Slashdot

Twitter: Now With More bad email

2008-06-16T16:34:00.002-04:00

I've had a twitter account for a while now, but I've yet to post anything simply because I haven't figured out what my best 'voice' would be. Seems a waste of a good account to just tweet things like "at coffee shop" or "this movie was great."

I have decided to attempt poetry in <= 140 characters. I believe this will reveal itself as a smashing good idea, or quite possibly the worst haiku ever. Either way, it will force me to write more often, which is something I sorely need.

I also have this sneaking suspicion that the first few tweets will be prepared short poems; in fact I'm certain of it - there's one or two in particular I can't wait to get online. But I've made a calendar appointment out of it, so if anything else, my phone will politely remind my brain to write something down, no matter how trite.

Here's to experimental exposition: let it fall squarely in proper literature and away from thoughtless rambling.

Apple Deals Shady With AT&T

2008-06-10T11:50:00.005-04:00

You know, I've been on the fence with the iPhone since its debut last year. The release of the 3G version, however, has convinced me that I'll never want one unless the A twins reverse their return policy.

Example 1: I purchase an iPhone in New York. Twenty-three months later, I've moved to LA, bought a kitten, and settled into a less nomadic lifestyle. I'd like to cancel my contract, but that'd be too easy for the likes of AT&T, because after reading their memo, I would need to fly back to NYC and find the same store where I originally purchased my JesusPhone just to cancel my contract. Suddenly early termination fees don't sound so awful anymore.

Example 2: I purchase an iPhone for the sole purpose of flying to Latvia and giving it to my friend to use on his very European network. Worldwide releases aside, I am prevented from doing this by virtue of the activation clause, which will require me to activate my iPhone at the purchasing store within 30 days or face "stiff penalties." Penalties notwithstanding, I must still activate my phone at AT&Ts premises, and not in the comfort of my underwear in front of my home computer.

Example 3: I want to upgrade my 4-YEAR-OLD 3G phone like whoa, but in order to use the Jesus Phone on the same 3G network I currently use, I'll have to pay ten dollars extra per month.

Example 4: I am currently, and thankfully, somewhow eschewed into AT&T's business customer services, which run 24/7 instead of 9-5 M-F. This means I can call 611 at four in the AM and get a real person on the line to discuss my issues with their on-again-off-again data problems in my area. If I were an iPhone owner, I would be automatically relegated back to lowly consumer status unless I upgraded my data plan to "Enterprise Class." It is still unknown whether business clients will get the same benefits I currently receive.

Fuck you, Apple and AT&T. Fuck. You.

-bademailname

Meet BeggingBot. I Can Market This.

2008-06-03T11:56:00.002-04:00

Coming up in the Unbelievably Awesome category is this BeggingBot, created by wunderkind kid Alexander Gurko, a student at this German Institution for which I will honor its name by not forcing my two readers to mentally pronounce it.

The BeggingBot's function is painfully, wonderfully simple: it pushes out what sounds like chip music -- but is actually analog rhythms being intoned from an old hard drive and two floppy drives. What comes out is eerily beautiful, and as Gizmodo pointed out, closely akin to Trent Reznor's early stuff. (Sure it was a joke, but they were right.) When finished with the symphony, the CD tray opens and asks for your coin. Add money to the till in order for it to keep playing.

I presume that if you refuse to proffer fundage it will cause the Bot to go into a Flashdance-inspired furious and final attempt to profit before it commits seppuku.

There's a poem somewhere in the art student's meta-statement. Or enlightenment, I can't figure out which.

-bademailname

I Just Met Cory Doctorow, Gave Him A Copy of my Chapbook

2008-05-26T19:01:00.000-04:00

I just left Books of Wonder, the final stop of Cory Doctorow's book tour for Little Brother. Being broke, I did not have a book for him on which to pen; he gleefully signed my phone instead. We chatted for a brief moment, and then without provocation or preamble, I asked if he would accept one of my chapbooks. (i officially have 26 copies now) He not only accepted, but complimented me on the cover (a blatant copyright infringing photoshop of Michaelangelo's David, holding a pair of tighty whities.). We spoke for only a minute or two more, and that was that. But my smile remains. Cory is officialy one of the coolest celebrities because of this: he's modest, smart, accomodating (he signed my PHONE for chrissake), and pretty funny to boot. I hope he enjoys reading my book on the flight home.

With that said, I'm off to listen to an open mic at "Reading between A & B" located at 510 E. 11th St. If I'm incredibly lucky, or maybe just incredibly persistent, perhaps I'll get to read, or sell some books. I could certainly use the spare change.

Endless

2008-05-25T18:06:00.000-04:00

end-

-less

like God stuck a turkey baster in the middle of the color wheel and spun them just for me just like every time i get nauseated with this giddy charm like i'm 13 and the babysitter just winked at me like i was just in the way of that goddamned cherub's line of sight and i was going like 95 down the tunnel of love smoking a fag and swiggin' on the old beam like that punch drunk love kind of crazy like i might go insane from looking too long at them.

end-like-an-afternoon-of-held-breaths-and-long-sighs-and-quickened-pulse-less

(and they had to be brown)

Endless by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

- bademailname

Pipe Dream

2008-05-24T03:07:00.002-04:00

envelop
me.

beckon, waste me away to your corner.
Coil,
spring.

cut,
lash.
Tongue whip me submissive;
breathe fire and seal fates.

crush fear.
I’ll love you forever.

Pipe Dream by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

This was rewritten from another piece I believe I've already posted. Much better this way.

- bademailname

My Life Without Underwear: Nearing Completion

2008-05-22T12:46:00.005-04:00

I have one, maybe two more rounds of quick editing on my upcoming book, My Life Without Underwear, before the final publishing authorization is made. It's almost time to announce a publication date! Should there be a release party, and if so, where should it be held? Would New York City open its arms to yet another contemporary poet, or do I return to Virginia Beach, VA where my work originally took on its shape?

There's plenty of time to make a decision.

- bademailname

Addendum to May 13 Post (Google Analytics)

2008-05-22T12:41:00.002-04:00

I also wanted to mention that I was right; a rare occurrence. My post dated May 13 that was mostly flame-bait succeeded in netting me the most visitors to date. Woohoo!

According to the theory of obtaining a thousand true fans: One down, only 999 to go.

New York Living On The Cheap: Fuggetaboudit

2008-05-22T12:13:00.006-04:00

And so, in my panic at realizing it has been nearly ten days since my last post, I would just like to submit that I finally succumbed to the truism that NYC is the single most expensive place to live in the world.

Gas was $4.13 at the station nearest me, last time I checked. I drove a handful of times over the last few weeks, and only then to pick up/drop off my girlfriend. Thankfully, I can get nearly anywhere in the five boroughs for $2.00 (thank you, Metrocard). The food is incredible here, and sometimes incredibly expensive. I found several electronics stores in the city that mark everything up by 50-80% from original retail. (C'mon, an iPhone for $1329.99?! Are you effin' nuts?)

My unemployment insurance barely covers my monthlies, and leaves me with virtually zero spending cash. Any poetry readers care to donate to the cause of my livelyhood?

To boot, I've been sulking, not writing. It may be a cop-out, but it's the only excuse I have left to hold.

By and Large, though, I maintain optimistic and vigilant in my search for a life here.

- bademailname

Prickdom and Popularity: Directly Proportional.

2008-05-13T12:45:00.005-04:00

I feel a rage coming, but soon. Hopefully, as has happened in the past, a torrent of better-than-decent/good writing will come from it. But first, an intro/meta-spective. It's full of embellishments, some outright lies, but mostly single-mindedness to the point of chaos. It's a first step to saying what's really on my mind, so bear with me.

Has anyone else noticed that snobbery and popularity move in direct proportion on the internet?

Follow along with this stream of consciousness, if you will. I was reading "The Next Page" this morning, a holdover from something i saw yesterday but never got around to reading. They had reprinted online a small book that had been published only for a conference held in Denver. Firstly, I found that when the slideshow started, the new window had covered up most of the logo on the page out of focus ... so that the letters spelled out "NOBserver." Which led to me thinking what snobby little pricks they were for being so high-faluting that anyone would want to view 30 pages' worth of tables of contents - with barely any comment offered as to why these specific TOCs were chosen (one small introductory page about five paragraphs deep). What's more, why are 50% of the picks all design books? Surely there's a designer that made better choices for a 13th edition of The Great Gatsby than did some design grad's senior thesis. To boot, nearly half of the design "choices" were identical to one another. Now, I realize I'm no graphic design student, but I do have two eyes and a bit of logic. Besides the stylistic choice to columnize the page numbers, or perhaps a single or double-space decision, there is little else to discern between two-thirds of the presented TOCs.

Which got me thinking that, most of the time, the most severe pricks on the internet are also the most popular figureheads: Steve Jobs, John C. Dvorak, the entire crew at b0ingb0ing - all snobbery, and yet somehow all incredibly loved for their ability to spew vitriol and scathe.

It's a given that none of the aforementioned characters wants to be a snob, (except perhaps Dvorak or Jardin), but they all seem to occasionally fall into the same pit traps as any other writer worth their salt. The motto of news agencies the world over is "If it bleeds it leads;" A more stringent rule of the internet is "If it causes emotional distress to at least one person besides the writer, post it." Web writers have long known that the stake the internet has on our psyches is one of emotional needs, and very personal; compared to the wide, sweeping lifelessness of the printed word, or the decadent past tense of video. The latter two mediums have conditioned us to feel nothing unless it is immediate. Therefore, the internet is the best source of cultural emotional temperatures, while TV, magazines and newspapers strive to reiterate our boundaries.

What's more, I LIKE Xeni, Cory, Mark, and all the other peeps at b0ingb0ing. I read that site every damn day, and I love most of the things they put in their repository. So, why am I belittling the BB gang? Simple, they are easy targets, and I myself am falling into the trap of causing emotional distress for the sake of popularity. I'm a little jealous of their fame, a little peeved that they consider themselves so hip as to be above and beyond the culture fashionistas, a little disappointed they don't post my suggestions.

In my building hatred for people I've never met, I seem to be storing it all in the pit of my stomach. Either this will be my own claim to fame when it is finally released, or it will be my downfall as it consumes me. In any case, I bet a gazillion dollars that I get more reads on this post than any before it.

Using the Skyfire beta ...

2008-05-12T11:52:00.000-04:00

... to write this post. So far, it has been a pretty slick ride. even using EDGE it's fast (enough) to keep me from going crazy; it fortunately does not harken back to the dial-up days.

Then again, it doesn't like zooming-in on pages with rich content. Myspace does OK until you hit a friend's page that contains so much brik-a-brak you can't stand viewing it on any browser - mobile or otherwise. Sites like YouTube and Break.com may as well not have a place here, since they first have to render on a remote server before hitting your winmo phone. Video barely runs a frame per second while the audio whittles away blithely.

Strange that I haven't posted any creative works lately. It's not that I've run out of ideas - quite the opposite actually. I have a glut of ideas sitting in my head, all fighting for a little focus. It's that I can't seem to pick one idea without all the others entering my consciousness and bitch-slapping me back into a confused schizophrenia.

But that's for another time.

Skyfire is under beta now, for Windows Mobile 5 and up.

Black Coffin

2008-05-10T13:23:00.002-04:00

OK, Sherman, set the wayback machine for 2001, when I decided that my poetry didn't entirely suck.

This:
This is an aggregation.
An amalgamation.
A congregation,
A conglomeration, an estimation of the
trepidation.
You:
You are an imbecility.
A facility for the anti-
amiability. Amicability.
It becomes:
A Disastorability for
Brandability. To Intractability.
So let us have:
Insinuation. Insulation for our
Nation of Calculation, Recalcitration, Fornication.
We:
As a people.
As a person.
As a whole being.
Insipid Insipid Insipid.
Stupid uneducated no effect having promiscuous
silly little worms of a blood beating fuck-up as
a person.
Annihilation.
Infarcication.
Truncation.
We die:
We cough sputter weep for our forefathers cry
for our descendants and all of us I mean
Every
Fucking
One of us
lets go of this too real world to
Meet the not too calm and all
too cold world of a
Nailed
Down
Black
Lacquer
Coffin
DEAD.
Amen, brother.
A-fuckin-men.

Black Coffin by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

Alltop lists bademailname under Books!

2008-05-10T13:14:00.004-04:00

It wasn't precisely what I was hoping for, but what on Earth is? Alltop was kind enough to list this blog under their Culture > Books category. Triple Huzzah! Yes, it's at the very bottom, because I get very few clicks by anyone not directly related to me; but it's there in technicolored intarweb goodness!

Now, to catch up on that whole creative process thingy I've been missing out on since my move.

Link

Also, My Book -

2008-05-08T16:07:00.005-04:00

- "My Life Without Underwear" is being published verr verr soon, by the verr verr kind brothers and sisters at San Francisco Bay Press. It will be a retelling of the original chapbook (which is still available, by the way. Hinthint, winkwink, nudgenudge.) along with some newer material; much like ole' Whitman did with Leaves of Grass. I don't mean to compare my work to his, I wouldn't hold a match - just that he also constantly revamped his original work.

Anyway, be on the lookout here, on Amazon, or San Francisco Bay Press.

bademailname. now in NYC flavor

2008-05-08T15:57:00.003-04:00

I moved to NYC over last weekend, and today marks the first day of teh internet. Huzzah! More postings to come in short order.

1k Competition Entry (b0ingb0ing Gadgets)

2008-04-26T16:25:00.004-04:00

"Today on the NewYou.com hour our guest is scientist, author - and until a recent press release, recluse - Doctor Joeseph Veriton. Thank you for coming on our show."

"I'm delighted to be here, thank you for having me."

"Doctor Veriton, how did you manage to encode an entire human genome into a single kilobyte?"

"The short answer is compression. The long answer is I didn't; the DNA did."

"Could you describe for us the theory behind it?"

"Sure. DNA has four ingredients, and those ingredients are mapped in a series in order to create the infamous double helix. What happens is: incredibly complex patterns begin to emerge, so complex that we can't see them -- but protein-based computers can, because they contain many if not all the same patterns, but in a different order. We don't encode the genome, we encode the patterns. The protein can 'unzip' the pattern, using itself as a sort of template."

"And what is your proof, doctor?"

With a nod, three more Doctors Veriton walked on, stage right.

This work by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

Link to Contest

Alltop.com: Pretty Darn Awesome

2008-04-25T12:37:00.005-04:00

I would like to introduce you to Alltop.com, your next new source for stumbling upon very cool things. Each main category is divided into popular topics, and the whole site has a very polished feel to it, despite its young age. Just from two or three days of use, I have already added nearly a dozen feeds to my Google Reader page. Thanks, Alltop!

It has fleshed-out subcategories such as lifehacks, extreme sports, and virtual worlds; but it misses some marks entirely, especially in the Culture topic. Notice there aren't any categories for poetry, fiction, or literature in general? Oh, sure, there's a books category, but most (if not all) of those feeds have to do with booklists, authors and authoring -- nothing about the content in and of itself, only the creators and marketing of content.

I sent an email today suggesting they include a poetry or literature category. It would help my goal of making their list if you also submitted a similar comment. Yes, all nine of you lovely, adorable readers. You can email Alltop here.

Alltop.com

Mother

2008-04-25T11:49:00.003-04:00

Hold me, child.
Hold me sunny,
strange days ahead now.

Brack river underneath my bones,
child, you will be wont to drink it;
resist every temptation.

Hold the weak now,
hold steadfast a solder's mask
a deity's substance
hold fast now, child.

Coming miles up now and we forgave him naught.
Hold the line, child
Help me heal
wounds bandaged dirty
by the sun now

Hold the heals, child.
Hold me as you're breaking apart now
you're crazy if you want to make crazy
Hold the heals now.

Mend cracks in the skin
hold it together, child.
bleed the sun dry tomorrow

Hold tight now,
it's the sudden dancing macabre bodies underneath it all.
Secrets of secrets.
Hold me now, child,
if you want to see me.

Mother by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

This is the final revision for "Mother," a piece I channeled some weeks ago. It was performed for the first time April 22, at GaiaFest 2008.

GaiaFest 2008 Afterthoughts

2008-04-25T11:31:00.004-04:00

In case you missed it, Gaiafest 2008 was a smashing success. We had a lovely turnout, great poets, free food, some improv saxophone, and many breaks with which to smoke cigarettes. I hope all that attended had as good a time watching/listening as I did reading/performing.

I did two new pieces which I've never performed before - "Mother" and "cloud" - and a well-oiled piece called "Migraine." I felt that "cloud" can use a little work on inflection and intonation; I didn't get it quite right for the tone of the piece, which is thick satire. "Mother," on the other hand, exceeded my expectations and was welcomed with some ego-boosting oohs and ahhs along with regular applause.

It is my intention to begin hosting some of my work as downloadable audio tracks in the near future, or quite possibly as micro video productions. I haven't figured out all the particulars, so bear with me, but I'll do my best to keep this site updated.

miracle

2008-04-24T18:23:00.000-04:00

you never noticed me until
today.

I thought
I’d have to
tear out my femurs
with a steak knife
and borrowed fish hooks
for a
casual
glance

three
cheers
for small
miracles.

miracle by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

RAAF-1, Pelican-0

2008-04-19T18:39:00.005-04:00

This F-111 made an emergency landing after colliding head-on with a pelican at 900m. The plane was said to be going in excess of 550km/h. The pilots were hailed as heroes for their landing effort; the jet was lauded as "unstable" with the damage caused by the bird - who was sucked into an engine. There was also a hole in one of the wings, I presume by debris from the initial strike to the radome.

Inconsequently, I think "unstable" is a poor word choice, and I wouldn't give a dime for it. If the expert had said untenable, though ... easily 50 cents.

Link. via Neatorama

These Dreams

2008-04-18T21:10:00.001-04:00

These dreams

These vivid regurgitations of pandering emotions
Of elation in its ubiquitous frivolity
Of mourning, loss in shadows unknown
Of anxiety
Of yearning
Of aches and pains and

These static moments of reality
Claim more souls than there are stars in a clear night sky
The lifeless grasp their chests in their boxes
As if their hearts may at any moment leap from their
Ribs and do the meringue

The living wait in line at the slaughter house
Mooing and chewing their cud without
Remorse

These thoughts of recycled trash
Moribund and antediluvian
Smelling of fecal rot and horrifyingly pungent lavender

It seems as though this lifetime
Contained all the ingredients for abundant experiences
Wisdom
Ethereal knowledge

And the sieve that is the environment on which
I sink
Lets none of it keep longer than the
Very single moment of
Awakening.

These Dreams by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

Horatio At The Diner.

2008-04-17T17:18:00.003-04:00

There was no place to jack-in.

There was no crowd. In fact, he was completely alone in the dining room of the local Good Eats[TM]. The cooks and waitresses huddled near the coffee machine behind the counter, eager to leave or get ready for the day. The manager sat in his office, oblivious to the haranguing the staffers were giving each other. Occasionally a new face would appear, uniformed for the shift, sifting through the automatic doors, groggy-eyed and needing coffee and making a beeline for The Bunn.

Usually there were cops in the restaurant, but eerily none were anywhere to be found. No gamers, no coffee geeks, no drunks, no whores. No bums looking for a free cup, no suits conspiring in the corner. No late night dates that were just getting started or just winding down. Nobody but him.

And no place to jack-in.

Pissed him off, is what it did. Downright outraged him - appalled, aghast, and various and sundry other adjectives to describe his general behavior at 5 A.M. He sat at his table halfway back on the left, a laptop under his palms, typing reflexively and not caring to look at the screen - instead focusing on the oxygen pumping in through a vent above the front counter. It should have calmed him to know it was there, to feel at ease that some diner franchise should care so much about his well-being; but there was no joy in his heart for anything a corporation did, no matter how big or small. He inhaled deeply, reminding himself that if he at any time felt nauseated, he would send a form letter C&D and begin suing the pants off of them.

The waitress hag brought his food, gracefully sidestepping the coffee carafe, cup, laptop, and ketchup, and continued her morning saunter.

He took his mind off the oxygen and current conspiracy theory and settled down for breakfast. It was 5:22am.

Ahh, the morning gentlemen - five, nonsmoking; a table, please. Then another three-top, with someone he didn't expect to see … No, wait, never mind. It’s wasn’t her.

Halfway through, he had to take a break. His cold sore was acting up, and he needed to digest for a few minutes. He resumed moments later with the same shoveling action that made him the fastest eater he knew (Not that that was a good thing.). He stopped with several bites to go, surrendering at last to his overfull stomach.

He couldn't jack in. so he kept typing.

At least there was wireless. Not much of a signal, but it was there on the edge, both intermittently out of range and connected, but neither state for long. He grabbed what packets he could, while he could, and continued tapping away. Every site he visited he would read its source and copy what he liked. Any forum he found with one or two lines of object code he would take. He searched archives for strings and delimiters. He pirated bits from every Zombienet he could think of. Line 3095, line 3096 ... line 3195 ... line 3595 ... line 4595.

It happened on line 7127.

What happened was this: the cops came in around line 5000 and started asking questions to the wait staff. Around 6000 they came around to him, at which point he turned his wireless off (just in case of sniffers) and answered their questions. Most of the mini-interrogation had to do with a stolen car in the parking lot, and nothing to do with him or his laptop, which was just seconds ago chewing on the firewall at the building next to the restaurant. He pointed out his piece of shit car on the other side of the parking lot from the stolen vehicle, shook hands with the nice officers, and reopened the lid on his rig, watching them walk out the door.

He resumed typing, and with no other interruptions, contentedly sent a spybot to scan the wall. Shortly after the bot returned its report, only politely chiming in, he slowed his fingers from ludicrous speed to light speed. He switched focus to the bot report and glanced very intently on a few lines in the middle of the statistical model. A quick mumble about stupid honeycomb nets, and he sped his fingers enough to push out the final tweaks on his code. Line 7127.

He ran a quick compiler test, which passed flawlessly. Unflinching, he ran a stress test and vulnerability test on the pile of code at the same time. The rig made a yawning sound, but finished both anal examinations with a green checkmark.

Finally, he compiled the code. It took shape on the screen, a 3D representation of a simple grey stick figure arose from the swirling map of processed code. It stepped from the window of the compiler, and onto his desktop. Blue orbs shone on the topmost sphere on the creature, and then they blinked. The orbs focused at something beyond the screen.

“Thanks for bringing me back, Horatio. I sure have missed the jobs.” said the script through the rig's speakers. “And I see you've been hard at work upgrading my hardening and bruteforce.”

“Among other things,” Horatio said to no one.

“So what's the job?” said the code.

“What's the 'wall you're scanning say?”

“Blitten Bail Bonds. ECM --”

“Skip it,” interrupted Horatio. “What's two nodes over and lit like Chernobyl?”

“ECM 258e0f12a, unregistered with ICANN.” sputtered the stick figure, and with a flourish, added “Security ring at least level 7.” if a faceless stick figure with blue lightbulbs for eyes could give an evil grin, this code was doing it.

“Can you crack it?”

“Will there be a hardline?”

“Eventually. You’ll be stuck on this wireless band for at least 36 hours.”

“Yes. Maximum 17 days.”

“Get to work.”

And the code was gone, disappeared from the laptop entirely. The traces were being overwritten with 1s and 0s in alternating patterns 25 times, the processor busy purging access point logs of any mention of a computer being on or near the Bondsman's firewall.

Horatio shut the lid on his laptop and stood warily. He dug in his pocket for a few bucks for a tip, drank the last swig of cold coffee, lit a cigarette, took two puffs before securing it between lips, picked up the laptop, and left the restaurant.

Upon exiting to the parking lot, Horatio launched the notebook 30 feet straight into the air.

After it landed, he patiently searched for and collected the memory and hard drive, walked at a normal pace to his car, and drove away.

This work by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

rumor

2008-04-16T14:30:00.001-04:00

In crisp silence there came starlight
wearing the bedsheets of my sin

we tumbled drunk into fashionable doilies

she clamored the throes of existentialism
put poxes on peas in mattresses
with just enough irony
to make my face crack at the corners

and we rolled spectacularly in harvest moonlight and
broken beer bottles

albeit the glass was sharp
and the moon burned our backs

we coddled the Devil into a deal
knowing one of us was going
to get one over on the other

or so I’m told …

rumor by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

The Bumblebee Yawns

2008-04-15T17:57:00.000-04:00

the bumblebee yawns
dewdrops can't sparkle in mystical haze
tulips can't open without the giant yellow thing
wheat blades ripple from westerly breaths
the bumblebee yawns

the ant drives
through morning rushhour, pissed that he's so late
oak leaves heavy wet asymmetrical
forboding cargos
the ant drives

the earthworm gorges
i must get home, i must get home
prays for his family merely six inches below
gray nothing above looms a stressor
the earthworm gorges

robins do the traffic
flutter and siren their approach
if only so they don't hit one another
squabble wrens for the best parking spots
robins do the traffic

posies open for business
hunter gatherers dance the grand opening
scavengers have camped all night
now they can eat their tents
posies open for business

god sneezed awake, and it was good
eyes opened and a finger pointed to the east
there's the giant yellow thing
hopefully it brought a fan or two to clear this pea soup
god sneezed awake

The Bumblebee Yawns by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.

click.

2008-04-13T04:07:00.000-04:00

Television is the gateway to hell
and we are all of us hopeless
to quell its throngs while it blithely
holds membership drives hourly.
Makes empty promises via cathode rays
spreads candied viruses of apathy, greed, destruction

click.

And
I am diseased.
burgeoned polyps appear harmless until
they break and pus on yellowed skin.
Earth shatters over again like a Ronco infomercial
veins grow black, their pace slowed
as molasses death runs deeper
Thump. Thump.
Inside me.

click.

Clandestine armour bubbles, fizzes as
acid tongues spew vomitous words through ten inch woofers.
Vocal chords atrophy until
the mind pinches the fuse.

click.

it is merely a hiatus; rather should be

Claim the incessant thrall of civility
for the Queen of Spain
scream like an ice cream truck as it careens toward a murder of crows

click.

Maiden Mother, I plead for you
supplicate to your undead wisehood
inundated with megalomaniacs marching melodiously.
Mince meat Matriarchy mellows my
marauded methodology

click.

And
I
Pray
to high definition gods
from my TV tray altar
sacrifice the Hungryman(tm)
burn TV Guide incense

Bow to the remote control
Bow to the remote control

click.

click. by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

George's Steak House

2008-04-11T12:38:00.000-04:00

i knew this guy once
i knew this guy
we would sit and roleplay terrorist movements
yeah
the looks were always scared
and welcomed.
it was either that, or simian behavior
throwing shit and sticks from our high thrones to their lojack booths

cowboys hate it when you laugh at them
because it's all true

i knew this guy once
i knew this guy
he called everyone nigger
rice-nigger sand-nigger niggermutts
this from the guy that
had a CB in his van
and would dileberately piss off truckers with moronic radio checks
and "what's your twenty, cuntrag?"

fuckin preachers' kids

there was one
who
would
robo for three days then streak down his road picking roses from the neighbors' yards
at least he never ran out of interesting things to say

even when he moaned the star spangled banner
that was fuckin profound

i knew this guy once
i knew this guy
he gave a waitress nine pennies
wrote a little note on the table
"because the service wasn't worth a dime"

yeah we got kicked out a lot.

they were the days
when someone asks, those were them.

you see how it works when you try and forget.

George's Steak House by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

GaiaFest 2008

2008-04-10T22:55:00.005-04:00

barfly

2008-04-10T14:39:00.000-04:00

yeah so
i'm sittin' in this bar and
i'm sittin' in this bar and i'm
jammin' out to Bob Dylan
like i'm
chillin' like Bob Dylan i'm
feelin' the thrillin'
wheelin' and dealin' of
things on the ceilin'
yeah
the paint on the ceilin'
is peelin'
it's a
hue
of rental property beige
just like everything else

so let's all just get stoned.

you know
the Beatles broke through after their
run-in with Dylan
yeah
it was the speed an' acid hiball
kicked it all into highgear
that and George pilgrimed in India.
if you doubt i have one thing to say
and that's Number 9?
Number 9?
Number 9?

Number 9?

numb-er than the bummer feel of sleeping on both hands
bummer than a D.C. hobo with a hummer
hummer like the blowjob
yeah

so i'm sittin' in this bar and
i'm sittin' in this bar and i'm
rockin' on the statler bros

'cause the nose knows that
to get the ho's you crow the
old skool shows
then close with prose that don't blow
yeah
gets em every time
and you won't count flowers on the wall
ever
again

you know
it's flowers that powers this coward
into giving up the word shower
you can glower for an hour
but my flower tower of power still shines
yeah
like finger candy

rest assured i am not alone

so i'm sittin in this bar and
i'm sittin in this bar and
i'm thinkin

Damn

this beer is flat

'spose i shoulda drank it

when i got here.

barfly by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

The Procrastinated Man

2008-04-09T18:17:00.004-04:00

The Procrastinated Man
sits,
slathered in sonombulance,
slovenly soiled with sex

(ism)

only slightly strong slightly silly
sallow sanguine strutting cheap boots and a ten dollar haircut
He waits in the wings for no one.
He waits.

The uprising may
or may not pass
chaos math only works some
of the time

imagine. the perfect butterfly fart.

imagine the sun and the sea
ripples tear themselves across froth and kelp
white streaks roll in fastmotion
build us a temple in front
of the sun.

and as you float in great quiet on the perfect horizon
imagine life as The Procrastinated Man.
deepen it below the bottom of the sea.
heighten its awareness to the very edge of the skydome
and you may get an infinitesimal taste
only then if your taste buds are on their
tippy toes.

Mind you, the man isn’t lazy
Ask him, he’ll tell you.
The Procrastinated Man says:
" . . .
“…wait."

it’s the waiting makes any other sort of man crazy. They can’t seem to take
time and patience
He sees not all but most knows not most but some feels not some but none lies
well.
not none.

(And I do mean man. There is no such thing as The Procrastinated Woman.
That is an oxymoron.)

The Procrastinated Man ponders pot proliferation while he
reads clippings of pandering Norml members performing political hari-kari in
push -up bras and PB&J luncheons.
“At least,",” he thinks
“they could have served ramen."

The Procrastinated Man says
“Fuck the feather duster."
He slums in spit and mucous and eyesnot
fingers splayed, nails encrusted with mallow
lines already blackened with the day’s soot.
A ready fingerprint stares him in the face

He is envious of its
cold hard logic.

They come to listen for wisdom for insight for a pillow for a shoulder.
They come.
They come one by one seemingly endless singlefile down the throat
one by one they tell the truest stories the
real live ones
one by one they count the stars in minutes until they can no longer function
one by one they rest their souls on the table to breathe in
the smoke chamber
one by one the heartworn sleeve takes a salty bath or the
blade is twisted another degree or the
lemon juice drip is began again.

one

by

one

The
Procrastinated Man says

“time and patience.”

The Procrastinated Man
...
… waits.

The Procrastinated Man by Michael W. Hyde is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.