Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks selling war bonds

One of the most amazing photos I've ever seen (in person, too)

“A man is talking on the telephone behind a glass partition; you cannot hear him, but you see his incomprehensible dumb show: you wonder why he is alive.”

But you will

August 5th, 2010
we could talk about organic things:
basketball in a twilight hour,
hazy dreams that glow,
the kind sending signals from the future
as if to say
You have not yet arrived,
but you will.

Season's end

we slept with tired eyes,
after we turned off all the lights,
we watched the sun exstinguish,
and we laughed as daylight died,
and when the summer fell to fall,
and the leaves they came to freeze,
we never stirred from sleeping,
as we lay amongst the trees,
so when winter came to spring,
and those leaves broke from their case,
there was no movement between us,
and our faces never changed.
When the rain came, so did summer
and with summer came the search,
we'd been missing for a year,
two names carved in a birch,
and they found us there
still sleeping,
as the sirens rang and screamed,
and they tried to move our bodies,
but we'd been buried to our knees,
so they left us there
to lie alone
- they never came again,
and the papers never told the world,
that it was us who brought our end.
2007

District of Columbia

There is a lot of shit in New York

There is a lot of shit in New York.
A lot of trash, a lot of dirt. It smells like shit.
Looks like it too if you don't keep your head up.
Filthy alleyways.
It's the worst when the restaurants start to pile their garbage out on the curb.
The garbage stinks of shit.
There are a lot of restaurants, a lot of garbage.
A lot of stinking, shitty garbage.
There is also this sludge that runs along the street,
a hot stream of waste, a stench.
Some excess fluidal discharge. A pus.
It stinks of shit.
The people must smell it, too, no-one is smiling.
Young entrepreneurial types look stressed
wondering what they have got themselves into,
middle-aged men and women look burnt-out. Wrinkly.
Not age wrinkles, stress wrinkles.
Distinct lines of stress.
It must be the garbage
there is so much of it.
So much stinking, shitty garbage.
But I suppose the amount of garbage is only outnumbered by the things I purposely didn't do
because I know I'll be right back.
July 29th, 2010


Here I am again.
The trash is worse.
I hate this city, never liked it.
January 3rd, 2011

New York, New York