Eye for an eye, mother fucker

   Things seem to be happening all at once concerning writing. A fellow UC english student approached me with a cool idea about a publication, along with a few other UC undergrads. The idea is a publication of UC students by UC students, in the form of an e-book (Im not sure what the 'e-book' is, but I get the idea its a little more relevant than a chap-book.) Among the myriad of details I was given about it, it sounds pretty serious in the sense that you'll be able to buy it online, and we would have to give a % of the sales to UC for the use of their name. Anyway, its supposed to be due for publication in mid-June. SO BUY IT, when I'm able to give more of the who-and-what about it. Also on the writing front is the yearly UC writing contest, May 1st, where the winners are given pretty good cash prizes. Soooo, my backlog of writing seems to be coming in handy right about now, although I really only have one poem ready-- I have a short story, short play, and about fifteen other poems in the works. First, I wanted to post the one full poem I have finished . .

The Price is Right

Water from the metal shower head
Beats like a heart-murmur
Against the glass door,
Though the shower is unoccupied.
Above the ivory sink

A square mirror collects condensation.
Small drops supplement, then fall,
Leaving a clean trail.

Under a canister of shaving cream
Is a perfect circular rust-ring.
Its morning in southern California,
And a breeze comes in through the window's open screen.
Behind the bathroom's wooden door
I hear Drew Carrey commentating
On The Price is Right
From the living room television.

From the canister, I apply lather--
To the temple
And down the cheek,
Under the jaw line
And up to the temple,
Under the jaw line
And above each half
Of the upper lip.

Shaving is like skating on ice
Covered in six inches of snow.
The razor parts and takes everything.

Like a heart beat
Water beats
Against the shower's glass door,
As steam rises to the ceiling.
Its as if I'm skiing
Through the eye of a heavy blizzard.

Above the sound of running water
From the faucet and shower head,
I hear old women, in the distance,
Nervously guessing the price of a cleaning product.


Here.. is... the... beginning of a short story I've been working on. . .

In a sunlit park 10,000 small, blue and silver, Independence Day wind-mills, spin in perfect circles, while in perfect 100 x 100 lines. Sunlight catches the silver, and breaks apart reflecting infinitely into no particular direction. A three year old girl, in a pink dress, jumps up and down inside the array of moving wind-mills. Its Sunday, and traffic procedes as normal along the outlining streets. Its spring, and people procede as normal with picnic-lunches, frisbees, and kissing. My dog, half-beagle and half-husky, timidly approaches the myraid of rotating, planted wind-mills. She is two years old.

****
Anyway, someone once told me the word 'myraid' is one of the top ten over-used and pretentious words in literature, and I just realized I've already used it twice in this post. I don't especially like the word 'myraid'. . . it reminds me of the word pyramid.
O.K.--a quick list of my favorite words
1. riven
2. beatitude
3. ether

The Last Five Movies I've Watched

1. The Painted Veil
2. From Paris With Love
3. The Ninth Gate
4. When A Man Loves A Woman
5. Sherlock Holmes

The most startling of the five movies has to be When a Man loves a Woman-- with Meg Ryan and Andy Garcia. A young meg ryan and andy garcia. If you're imagining meg ryan as a mother of two and suddenly becoming an alcoholic, then your exactly right. I think I really like this movie, but I'm not sure yet. It kind of came out of nowhere.
*****

I would listen to any Bill Simmons' podcast, rather then go out 'on the town' and see the opening of a Shakespeare play on Broadway. I would rather talk about it later, instead of talking about it now. Between cigarettes and alcohol, I choose cigarettes. Between hemingway and fitzgerald, I choose Hemingway. Between sports and literature, I choose literature. Between family and friends, I choose myself. Between College and High School, I choose to not attend class. Between Fiona Apple and Liz Phair, I choose Fiona. Between Nirvana and The Black Keys, I choose Joseph Arthur. Between Elvis and Andy Warhol, I pick Elvis. I choose dying on a toilet, rather than listening to one more expert.

Digression rather than progression.
Absurdity rather than creativity.
Zooey Deshanel rather than Katy Perry
R.E.M over Prince
Vignettes that make sense, rather than stories that make sense

*****

"How are you?" He said

"Good, good. Its been a long time. How are you?" She said

"Good, good. I know! You never answer your damn phone." He said

"I know, I know. I'm changing networks. I'm fed up with Nextel. My signal keeps dropping." She said

"Ah shit. Really? You should try Sprint. I haven't had any problems with it." He said

" Thanks. Really, thanks. Anything has to be better than Nextel. I'm caught in a contract, though." She said

"Ah shit. How long? Get a lawyer. I have a lawyer I know who can help." He said

"Lawyer. A lawyer? For what?" She said

"For the contract." He said

"My cell-phone contract?" She said

"YES. My lawyer is a cell-phone-contract-lawyer." He said

"Really?"

"Yes, really really." He said

"Its been a long time." She said

"A really, really long time, I would say. I've called you, though." He said

"I know. Its my fucking service. I don't know what to say. Its just the service." She said

"I know I know, that sucks." He said

"Of course, but I'll live. So, anyway, how are you?" She said

"I'm good, I've been travelling, but I'm back in town for the weekend. Are you back in town?" He said

"Ah shit. I was last weekend for a funeral, but only for the service. I'm back in Texas." She said

"Jesus. What are you doing in Texas. People rot, carry guns, and vote Republican in Texas. I never knew you lived in Texas?" He said

"Southern Texas." She said

"So you have a gun now?" He said

"Hell yes I do. Eye for an eye, mother fucker." She said.