margaritas last night! duva the diva and i were toasting and squealing and i was all, hey, how did we not actually hang out at gally, goddamn!? he's got himself a real piece, a doubloon if you ask me, and i plundered that pirate's treasure and am hanging on to it if he ever texts back.
i've been called areola so many times i've just resorted to introducing myself as beth, and that's not really any fun.
maybe i'll get lucky and this hunka hunka gorgeous looooove and i will have more than one smashing date, but i did tell him i bet he's a whole drawerful of vintage tees for morning-afters, so maybe it'll just be one long swoon.
it's fun, really a ton of tingles, and i've got a teeny bebe curled up next to me after being scolded for eating a sock and the wifi password, a phantom who can't even hear the opera but has his mask with his back to me because i'm not sufficiently loving, a whole mess of cats milling about and a real hankering for zeus.
he took another $500, and he hasn't said a word to me in weeks. how he can just take money and leave me i'm all flummoxed over; he never asked for money and i thought he'd reject the peace offering or take it along with me.
in other news: Legend of the Mountain Man is terrible and lasted a lot longer than it oughta. WHAT THE HELL KIND OF JOKE IS "yes, i disappeared because you ate too much garlic!"? WHAT THE HELL KIND OF JOKE IS THAT!? it's sure not a Deaf joke, and it sure ain't in the Annals of Funny. mark wood, my dear, at least i laugh at jade! at least raymond luczak is a joke! and, seriously, what is it with giving your actors the wrong signs to use? PSE is a sad, sad pidgin that puffs up on rice but never manages to explode. and what's with giving the baby berdy a jailhouse ducktail? AND WHY DID I KEEP WAKING UP AND THINKING: "WHAT THE FUCK, THE JOKE'S LONG OVER AND THE MOVIE'S STILL GOING!?" i swear, i fell asleep after the breakfast scene and kept waking up to marvel at how long you could keep beating a dead horse...or, in this case, a seriously hippie chewbacca!
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Monday, July 9, 2012
NAD has a tendency to yank my chain.
so here's the latest trouble, and here's my latest complaint. sent directly to NAD. i'm gonna publish the e-mail i get from whomever--we'll see just how much they care about THIS situation, because they sure as hell didn't want to help me get GEICO to realize that they have to provide interpreters at each doctor's appointment, so i lost all GEICO funding for accident-related doctor's visits. the doctor i saw kept screaming at me and saying i was stupid after he fondled my leg...because i hadn't lipread him well enough to understand that he'd DEMANDED that i go to mount sinai and get my foot checked out, then he wrenched my ankle so badly i limped for a few days just because he felt like i was too stupid to respect or ask, "how much does it hurt?"
hopefully NAD isn't going to ignore this one or tell me they can't put me in touch with a lawyer; it's FUCKING frightening to be calling 911--i think i actually called upwards of seven times and was hung up on a shitload, but four was a conservative estimate i knew to be true--and being hung up on over and over and over again. i thought 911 had "stay-on-the-line-and-we-can-track-you-down" technology.
I called 911 when my roommate threatened to kill me on May 15th, 2012. I called at least 4 times and probably 7 times. I was hung up on each time I called. My brother called the NYPD to help me because my 911 calls were all failing, and the police declined to come. He called a second time about an hour, maybe an hour and a half, later. The police came one hour later and refused to come inside the apartment, then when they finally did, they refused to come to my bedroom door to let me know they were there to protect me. My brother had to call back to find out if they really were in my apartment. The two officers then refused to report my roommate for sexual assault (she had tried to rape me with a man; she's a lesbian). They kept laughing at and mocking me and had not brought an interpreter to my apartment EVEN THOUGH THEY KNEW I WAS DEAF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The DA's office has a Daisy Martinez, who has never agreed to help me report the NYPD for their misconduct because I had to flee the city, being homeless and terrified. I need to make it so that 911 never hangs up on someone whose roommate has a knife and is threatening to kill her after a failed rape attempt. I need to report my roommate to the NYPD. I need to sue the NYPD for not having an interpreter and not allowing me to file a sexual assault report. They almost LEFT ME IN MY APARTMENT WITH MY MURDEROUS ROOMMATE and I had to hold onto an officer's arm to get her to relent. How do I get help? I'm moving to SF. I only have a cell number to give you right now.
hopefully NAD isn't going to ignore this one or tell me they can't put me in touch with a lawyer; it's FUCKING frightening to be calling 911--i think i actually called upwards of seven times and was hung up on a shitload, but four was a conservative estimate i knew to be true--and being hung up on over and over and over again. i thought 911 had "stay-on-the-line-and-we-can-track-you-down" technology.
I called 911 when my roommate threatened to kill me on May 15th, 2012. I called at least 4 times and probably 7 times. I was hung up on each time I called. My brother called the NYPD to help me because my 911 calls were all failing, and the police declined to come. He called a second time about an hour, maybe an hour and a half, later. The police came one hour later and refused to come inside the apartment, then when they finally did, they refused to come to my bedroom door to let me know they were there to protect me. My brother had to call back to find out if they really were in my apartment. The two officers then refused to report my roommate for sexual assault (she had tried to rape me with a man; she's a lesbian). They kept laughing at and mocking me and had not brought an interpreter to my apartment EVEN THOUGH THEY KNEW I WAS DEAF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The DA's office has a Daisy Martinez, who has never agreed to help me report the NYPD for their misconduct because I had to flee the city, being homeless and terrified. I need to make it so that 911 never hangs up on someone whose roommate has a knife and is threatening to kill her after a failed rape attempt. I need to report my roommate to the NYPD. I need to sue the NYPD for not having an interpreter and not allowing me to file a sexual assault report. They almost LEFT ME IN MY APARTMENT WITH MY MURDEROUS ROOMMATE and I had to hold onto an officer's arm to get her to relent. How do I get help? I'm moving to SF. I only have a cell number to give you right now.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
to resin, for forgiveness. love, fay wray
maybe you'll never regret who you are right now
but you make me sing
there is never a moment more beautiful
than the one that's really me--
just like you are you and you beatific
and yours alone
mine are quite wide and blunderful
and QUITE MY *quiet* OWN.
you lie and kick and scream but shout
that i can't do the same--
the only man that does this, you know--no doubt
without redoubt and roundabout again!
you believe i'm lying
that i don't mean to live in san francisco
but what are you smokin'?
what are you tokin'?
you mean you really don't know?--
that all i do is love you, and give you right
and time and dole again...
and you're mainlining, steaming
steaming down the hurricane
(which, by the way, never leads to oz! that's a tornado!)
and this, by god, by GOD
is everything you need to know. [what poetry does!]
oh, and oh, oh, oh...the pain in my heart never, ever
leaves due to the woe
that i met the perfect father...true, and idiotic to prove, toe by line...
but he saw me and lit up, he knew i was true--
his eyes lined with naught but respect, though it was you--you, every time you
yelling, screaming that i shouldn't say this "dirty" thing or that
slapped my hands, hissing that he thought me a right dunce
that my shirt and smile might be propriety
measured and sifted twice--
and he'd never hand down my pants or up my twice.
yes, i mourn a father i met twice. he was so sweet and kind
i could have and do love him forever. this is not wild
but free.
this is the heart of infancy and the heart
of the twenty-six two-hundred-fat me
reaching to love. and that is never crazy: it is the heart
of infancy and twenty-six father-raped me:
it is the heart of immediate trust. of that you've lived.
think you not, think you that you live of venomade
from sugary lips? i love those very lips but male, yours...
hers, and i know full well whose drip into my veins weighs phenomenal.
each thing you've raped from me you've done once.
just to taste
and there is just: here is the hate.
she told me, drenched with water until it dried me in clumps--
attacked and the day i lost you:
i thought too hard about the difference, the reference
points of your arms and kisses and the deep, the deep wet orgasm
that swirls anemone and prickles stars
of the penises so dark and swirl that dank, black, they swirled
and, staring at young faces so intent on abuse--
i screamed
i lost
everything--when i came to i was dry and three blocks away.
your mother caressed me. she glowed, she squealed, she hovered--
you had been right: she really is psychotic--
but the smile, the eyes hypnotic, so i see, i see you, i see me and you in you and me--
she glowered when i stammered, your sister threatening:
"if you don't leave i'll call him and tell him never to see you again."
running, running, running.
since that day.
now i see...the latino way.
let me, now, the red...the bottle, the silk, the satin i wear
wear away, if we may
el toro! your family safeguarding, blocking the way.
and now you have that cherub
if i may.
but you make me sing
there is never a moment more beautiful
than the one that's really me--
just like you are you and you beatific
and yours alone
mine are quite wide and blunderful
and QUITE MY *quiet* OWN.
you lie and kick and scream but shout
that i can't do the same--
the only man that does this, you know--no doubt
without redoubt and roundabout again!
you believe i'm lying
that i don't mean to live in san francisco
but what are you smokin'?
what are you tokin'?
you mean you really don't know?--
that all i do is love you, and give you right
and time and dole again...
and you're mainlining, steaming
steaming down the hurricane
(which, by the way, never leads to oz! that's a tornado!)
and this, by god, by GOD
is everything you need to know. [what poetry does!]
oh, and oh, oh, oh...the pain in my heart never, ever
leaves due to the woe
that i met the perfect father...true, and idiotic to prove, toe by line...
but he saw me and lit up, he knew i was true--
his eyes lined with naught but respect, though it was you--you, every time you
yelling, screaming that i shouldn't say this "dirty" thing or that
slapped my hands, hissing that he thought me a right dunce
that my shirt and smile might be propriety
measured and sifted twice--
and he'd never hand down my pants or up my twice.
yes, i mourn a father i met twice. he was so sweet and kind
i could have and do love him forever. this is not wild
but free.
this is the heart of infancy and the heart
of the twenty-six two-hundred-fat me
reaching to love. and that is never crazy: it is the heart
of infancy and twenty-six father-raped me:
it is the heart of immediate trust. of that you've lived.
think you not, think you that you live of venomade
from sugary lips? i love those very lips but male, yours...
hers, and i know full well whose drip into my veins weighs phenomenal.
each thing you've raped from me you've done once.
just to taste
and there is just: here is the hate.
she told me, drenched with water until it dried me in clumps--
attacked and the day i lost you:
i thought too hard about the difference, the reference
points of your arms and kisses and the deep, the deep wet orgasm
that swirls anemone and prickles stars
of the penises so dark and swirl that dank, black, they swirled
and, staring at young faces so intent on abuse--
i screamed
i lost
everything--when i came to i was dry and three blocks away.
your mother caressed me. she glowed, she squealed, she hovered--
you had been right: she really is psychotic--
but the smile, the eyes hypnotic, so i see, i see you, i see me and you in you and me--
she glowered when i stammered, your sister threatening:
"if you don't leave i'll call him and tell him never to see you again."
running, running, running.
since that day.
now i see...the latino way.
let me, now, the red...the bottle, the silk, the satin i wear
wear away, if we may
el toro! your family safeguarding, blocking the way.
and now you have that cherub
if i may.
POEM-TREE! SRS! ORLY! (only one face ORLY)
deafpanda.
but that is long gone, and this: the story, yes: there was a young black boy
two years removed from mosi
thick and bespectacled, and breathing with his tongue between his fat lips
and drooling as fat as he packed on that continuous seat
now, see
maybe they tore it from his fingers
into the corner garbage can
thunked him upside the noggin sumpin' maggots
but now see
crisped bonfire or smooth sailin' across to the bum on the other side of the D
but something...
something will stir;
sir got, sir, he got LYRIC POETRY
so thumping a Bible his veins will leap
and maybe, i hope maybe against their snarls
(that i ignored, being White and forgetting
my own childhood) they will kiss him good night
pretending the book is just a thing, a thing
they cannot fear, that cannot keep him down in their broken mattresses
and smile, and beam benovelence on his ten-year-old head:
this pink-and-purple-striped book of obsolete obsolescence colonic
with white columns declaring THIS IS THE SEVENTIES
but that is long gone, and this: the story, yes: there was a young black boy
two years removed from mosi
thick and bespectacled, and breathing with his tongue between his fat lips
and drooling as fat as he packed on that continuous seat
now, see
maybe they tore it from his fingers
into the corner garbage can
thunked him upside the noggin sumpin' maggots
but now see
crisped bonfire or smooth sailin' across to the bum on the other side of the D
but something...
something will stir;
sir got, sir, he got LYRIC POETRY
so thumping a Bible his veins will leap
and maybe, i hope maybe against their snarls
(that i ignored, being White and forgetting
my own childhood) they will kiss him good night
pretending the book is just a thing, a thing
they cannot fear, that cannot keep him down in their broken mattresses
and smile, and beam benovelence on his ten-year-old head:
this pink-and-purple-striped book of obsolete obsolescence colonic
with white columns declaring THIS IS THE SEVENTIES
Tonight at Noon
A Poem by Adrian Henri
Tonight at nooncourtesy Rae Johnson care of Lyric Poetry in the hands of a bored kid on the train waiting to get to the beach. love it like i did. it's a real peach, |
and the rarest drunk of them all
is rather tipsy these last two weeks. very, very tip to the top of my turvy nose.
and the rash and one tick, removed:
but life is all a song, life isn't this:
it's living.
and so life a song among thronging thongs:
nemesis, name:
greek, goddess:
righteous vengeance.
rob voreck, stettle aside!
i ain't no quarrel with you
(unless you take their side against
yes
i dare
say your daughter!)
thonk, the moon:
and the rash and one tick, removed:
but life is all a song, life isn't this:
it's living.
and so life a song among thronging thongs:
nemesis, name:
greek, goddess:
righteous vengeance.
rob voreck, stettle aside!
i ain't no quarrel with you
(unless you take their side against
yes
i dare
say your daughter!)
thonk, the moon:
i have a shitton to thank marci for
marcia johns is actually awesome.
hah, no man if not for that woman.
not even learry parce.
pearcy larce.
peaky lice.
key lime pie-hatin'
larry pearce.
(really, nemesis is dottie reincarnated.)
hah, no man if not for that woman.
not even learry parce.
pearcy larce.
peaky lice.
key lime pie-hatin'
larry pearce.
(really, nemesis is dottie reincarnated.)
w00tie f00ties we are iDentiTy h00dies
so, beth is done for.
nemesis resumes.
reincarnation, BABIES!
don't you panic.
by the light of the night it'll seem all right.
i'll get you one part anonimity!
nemesis is w0nderful to bEincarnate.
nemesis resumes.
reincarnation, BABIES!
don't you panic.
by the light of the night it'll seem all right.
i'll get you one part anonimity!
nemesis is w0nderful to bEincarnate.
fractal factions, facetious fissions, fractured frailty
i really do have a lot to say about things that matter.
i'm just so hammered into a shell, like the plaster and tape that explode off each cannonball jim molds and inserts into the starchy casings.
i messed up.
i let myself down, and zeus, whom i love more than i love a life without raymond carver's sculpture, the zeus-and-hera dynamic.
good love.
i'm just so hammered into a shell, like the plaster and tape that explode off each cannonball jim molds and inserts into the starchy casings.
i messed up.
i let myself down, and zeus, whom i love more than i love a life without raymond carver's sculpture, the zeus-and-hera dynamic.
good love.
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