stephenthomasrussellmartin: April 2006

Saturday, April 29, 2006

Sunday, April 23, 2006

tangerine

I was not impressed. I threw out most of it. It tasted fake and gross.

Saturday, April 22, 2006

blood oranges (moro)

At first taste, I got goosebumps. Scrunched my neck and arched my back. If you *ever* get a chance to eat these! I recommend.

Friday, April 21, 2006

Thursday, April 20, 2006

just found out there's a new documentary re Townes Van Zandt, a favorite musician. check out the post at this blog for more about the man and the movie. And click on title, above, for the movie's site, which has a trailer.

Seems it's showing in Nashville starting today, stopping on the 26th, in the Nashville Film Festival. Otherwise it may be bought. Might make a good graduation present for somebody.

careerist poet

seems like all posts (for this blog) were posted today.

update on 050206: seems the blog's disappeared
hope the picture doesn't disappear from here I like it like it

Tina Celona in OctopusMagazine#O7

POP CORPSE

for Stephanie

When I’m older I write only once a week. The rest of the time I heal and drink juice cocktails and read and talk to people. This method seems to work for me and over time I even start to fart poems. The Corcoran asks me to do an exhibit of poems associated with infrared photographs of farts. I spend days matching poems to the right farts, finishing in just enough time to drive to Florida and see my great-uncle, my separated cousin, and her two babies.

A boy can be your boyfriend without actually being your boyfriend. On the way you stop to wander through Glen Echo Park. The ancient cries of fun echo and re-echo. Years later I remember holding your hand. My memory is unreliable.

Favorable notice in another paper. On the fire escape the man asked me if I had hyperthyroid condition. Offended, I insisted my thyroid was normal.

I realize that I have been as repressed in my poetry as I have been foolish in real life. When my writing goes well I attribute it to God. When I kissed you in the car I blamed myself. We were in the church for hours discussing our favorite cathedrals. There is always something I have not bothered to remember.

You are my secret best friend. I am a gas station attendant. When someone gives me a tip it is like I have done something great. I feel great as I pump gas.

OctopusMagazine#O7
one of the better-designed sites I've seen

must mention that haven't got the format right for blogger- I mean, the poem looks different as posted at octopus magazine number 07.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

indie rock

been listening to KEXP this evening and got some good indie, like whoa, not just butterglory but superchunk too

also, comments on some of the below photos don't seem to show. have to see if that's going to keep being the case.

beluga whales. I'm graduating soon.