I guess when I go down, I go down in flames ...

The price one pays for attempting wit. Guy got cheesed at me today for stepping on his lame one-liner on some message board about that Eugenides guy who wrote The Virgin Suicides. I end the workaday & log on to find not one, but three emails from this fellow. I received these via one of those 'social networking' sites. Sadly, when you 'report' somebody making threats, the site 'blocks' them & you can't respond in private. Not that I'd want any more of my info available to Dude, but, hey, one good turn deserves another, eh?

Correspondence #1: Hi

Today at 12:03pm
from: D.D.
Hey fa--ot......nice shades while indoors....you look like an AIDS stricken Bob Dylan....hard to look like a hipster when you're a srawny geek wearing a $ 7 blue workshirt.........humorous.....little weasel hiding behind your keyboard........f--k you

Dear D,

Thanks. I own several sunglasses, but those are my favorites. Bob Dylan is also one of my favorites, so thanks on that one, too. I always thought 'hipsters' *were* scrawny geeks wearing $7, blue work shirts. The one in the photo was purchased at The Gap, I think. It was pretty cheap, but probably more in the $15 price range.

There is a weasel behind my keyboard?!?!?! I could use a pet.

I'm sorry, I don't go for guys, and, also, I don't believe we've ever met. Therefore, I can't help you with that request.

yours,

sed

Correspondence #2: Scott the nervous bed wetter

Oh nooooooooooooooooo ! Scott is on youtube in a HIP poetry reading club !!! LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL ;) He's nervous, twitching, sweating. Apparently the pressure of reading his emo poem in front of 12 people is too much for him ! And hey geek, the pseudo hipster poem by Mike Myers in So I Married an Axe Murderer was much funnier ;)

Dear D.,

Glad you found that YouTube! I don't remember sweating at that reading, but I probably was a bit out of my element, as that was taped at this cozy, little bar where they usually don't bring cameras. I assure you, I can be quite the ham.

Per your last correspondence, I'm racking my brain trying to remember whether or not Mike Myers wears a $7, blue work shirt in that film. It *was* a funny reading his character gave, though. Sometimes I think he must have caught one of my friend Charlie's readings back in his Second City days.

sed

Correspondence #3: message

Where'd you go fa--ot ? Curled up in your bed, crying emo style ? You're a dime a dozen - Wanna be writers who scribble terrible poetry in a worn spiral pad, quoting the Important writers you read, trying to convince yourself that one day you really WILL write that novel you've had in your head all these years. Er, you're 37 Scotty Boy, your times up already, you'll never write a novel, all you'll leave behind is your little notebooks with your god awful emo whinings. You're a reader, not a writer ;) Sad truth huh boy ? So follow that urge and put that gun in your mouth, yessssssssssss..........feel that muzzle in your mouth, just like all those gigantic black c---s you've had rammed in your mouth...follow that urge, you'll never be anyone, you're a wanna be...a nobody....you think you're a f--king writer ? You think you're some kind of f--king Mickey Spillane ?!?! LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL ;) And oh, I know some twisted mutherf--kers in Chicago...behave yourself now boy.....I hope you sleep lightly.....

Well, D, I went to work. Then I went to get coffee with an old friend. A dime a dozen? Well, I don't know about that, but I prefer perfect-bound notebooks, as the spiral ones tend to mangle the pages, which then tear out too easily. I do most of my work on a word processor, though.

According to Monty Python, 37 is not old. They also had some nice things to say about John Denver, but that is neither here nor there. I don't have any urges to put any gun in my mouth, and as far as I know I've never done the other thing, but, hey, who knows, I mean I *did* have a few wild years back at school. (Sigh), suppose that would be my business, though, huh?

I sleep alright. I dream in color, too. Once, when I was 16 or so, I dreamt I was cutting class & got caught by the assistant principal. Then, I wished the situation could be a bit cooler ... wouldn't you know, all of a sudden I'm dreaming I'm on an airplane playing my guitar with Jimi Hendrix. He showed me some cool stuff and then said, "Excuse me, while I kiss the sky," and parachuted out of the plane. I believe the experts call that 'lucid dreaming,' but what would I know?

Chicago is a nice place, yes, but some folks can be twisted. I also know some twisted folks in the Ft. Myers area, as well as some cops.

best,

Scott

retrograde in spring (unf.'d)

curses, mercury
in concert w/a full moon
to leave me scattered

mad as a hatter
(aptly named, that element)
& what hard winter

to precede this turn
of events, the whole night sky
one cold roulette wheel

or concentric
opposite cyclones
spun out above this hemisphere

game-player of an imp, you!
return my phone calls!
my better letters!

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio (magazines) ..

Who buys magazines anymore? Not talking your 'In Focus' or 'Celeb Snuff Gone Wild' stuff, but, you know ... those glossy, little stapled numbers with book reviews, album reviews & the like ...

... 15 years ago, I would rush to the mailbox for some of these guys ,,, I'd read a review of "Alien Lanes" in one, Welsh's "Filth" in another ...

Art has been fragmented, divided between the sell-it-nows and sell-it-howevers ... nobody creates to create. Well, almost nobody.

An old college friend's husband had a gig tonight. I really thought I'd make it, but I missed it. I'm sorry. I imagine it was a very good show.

Lou said it first, but I'm thinking it's the beginning/of a new age.