+ yup +

i win.

+ i'm not even political +

and i'm doing my best to get out of america.
but...
when something strikes, it's undeniable.

watch.

+ my little lovers +

A lacrymal tincture washes
The cabbage-green skies:
Under the drooling tree with tender shoots,
Your raincoats

White with special moons
With round eyes
Knock together your kneecaps
My ugly ones!

We loved one another at that time,
Blue ugly one!
We ate soft boiled eggs
And chickweed!

One evening you consecrated me poet,
Blond ugly one:
Come down here, that I can whip you
On my lap;

I vomited your brilliantine,
Black ugly one;
You would cut off my mandolin
On the edge of my brow

Bah! my dried saliva,
Red-headed ugly one
Still infects the trenches
Of your round breast!

O my little lovers,
How I hate you!
Plaster with painful blisters
Your ugly tits!

Trample on my old pots
Of sentiment;
—Up now! be ballerinas for me
For one moment!…

Your shoulder blades are out of joint,
O my loves!
A star on your limping backs,
Turn with your turns!

And yet it is for these mutton shoulders
That I have made rhymes!
I would like to break your hips
For having loved!

Insipid pile of stars that have failed,
Fill the corners!
—You will collapse in God, saddled
With ignoble cares!

Under special moons
With round eyes,
Knock together your kneecaps,
My ugly ones!

+ c'est le soleil +

I wanna break you open and eat the tiny parts of you that are rotting in your mind.
You’re such a little monster.
Let me kidnap the daybreak and put its light in your eyes.
The sunshine will kill you, but your soul will haunt those who detest it.
Inescapable advances leave my toes dangling over the edge.
Yet,
I bring them back over.
I always manage to bring them back.

+ i'm a one woman show! +

lately i've been telling certain people that i am a one woman show.
i've always laughed at my own jokes -- i'm not gonna lie -- i think i can be pretty damn funny sometimes.
but, maybe i'm laughing because no one else is.
aww.

i also think mcsweeney's is awesome.
and wonderful.
and fantastic.

from time to time i go to their little website to check on the status of brian beatty's joke section.
after awhile, i started saving some that i enjoyed.

i figured i should maybe post them here.
just in case i want to look back in a year or so, and realize how amazingly cool i am for keeping them.
so i won't be the only one making myself chuckle.

here they are:

LIKE MAGIC.
Everything about every woman I've ever dated has been like magic: fake and boring.

YES MAN.
The worst job I ever had was answering phones on a suicide-prevention hotline. I found out right away that I'm not good at telling people no.

NOT BRIGHT.
My goal in life is to be like a ray of sunshine—so radioactive that I kill idiots who get too close.

UNCLASSIFIED.
Lots of couples meet through the personal ads. I think there should be impersonal ads for people who want to end existing relationships. The reading would be so much more interesting.

AIR CONDITIONING.
People who hang out in those New Age oxygen bars are called airheads for a reason. I snuck in a flask of hydrogen and sat there all night mixing shots of water.

ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS
ANONYMOUS.
I'm founding a 12-step program for people who drink until they forget their names.

MY METHOD.
Every job is an acting job if you're expected to act like you give a shit.


don't even try to tell me those weren't funny.

+ in tribute +

not to follow the waves and lemmings and other non-thinkers,
(and i don't necessarily think that this totally fits into that category)
BUT....
i can't believe that i haven't, in this lifetime, made it around to seeing RADIOHEAD live.
until this past weekend.
and again tonight.
so, i think i need to take a moment to gather some visuals for myself in preparation to be floored one more time:

2+2=5


you and whose army


karma police


no surprises

+ all my thoughts return +

your strange imagination.
you threw it all away.

+ hello, panda +

Finishing up my "scholarly" career at Loyola Marymount University, I came out with, count them, TWO people I actually cared to talk to. Let alone keep ties with.
One being, little miss Tara.
Because of her I basically got to live in the most amazing house in the hills of Beverly Hills. I can't tell you how many times I got laughed at when I had to give someone my address -- obviously ending in "Beverly Hills, CA 90210."
I didn't realize something like that was such a conversation starter.
Ohhh, but the looks on their faces when they found out it wasn't MY house.
HAHAHAHAH. Who got the last laugh now, huh?????

The second person I allowed into my life was, Nick Zacher.
Apparently his name is spelled Nicolaus.
You'd think after 4 years of friendship I would've stored that little nugget of information in the memory banks.
Guess not.
Nick for some reason or another nicknamed me Panda.

Now, I have had a whole mess of nicknames throughout my life.
Apple, Pineapple, Samanawater, Sammy Davis Jr., Jr. (yes, that's two jr's.), Sammy Joe, Sammy Sosa (whaddup boss lady!),Tree....
None of them really make sense.
But, Panda?
Panda stole my heart.

He sent a picture of me having some fun today.
Check it out.

+ oh, to be a pin-up! +

"You are so terribly nimble, so clever. I distrust your cleverness. You make a wonderful pattern, everything is in its place, it looks convincingly clear, too clear. And meanwhile, where are you? Not on the clear surface of your ideas, but you have already sunk deeper, into darker regions, so that one only thinks one has been given all your thoughts, one only imagines you have emptied yourself in that clarity. But there are layers and layers -- you're bottomless, unfathomable. Your clearness is deceptive. You are the thinker who arouses most confusion in me, most doubt, most disturbance."

August 1932 from Henry and June, Anais Nin

+ the best minute & 22 seconds of my day +

Heard you lost your wig in the sea
And you cut your own hair
And how you love California
You say
The weather suits you out there

And I know you got a new man
It don’t matter babe
Because he ain’t me
You do what you’ve got to do
In time we will see
If I’m over you
And you over me
Is our story through
Or just the chapters that we knew?

And after reading them again
Could there be a better ending?



///////

this one doesn't hurt either

+ the national :: about today +

i wish i were in this room.

let it build.
the power and the verve --
you won't be able to look away.
and then,
all will be at peace.

+ not much to say about that +

in honour of sir william evans.
anyone who has a butthole -- as an homage to bukowski -- tattooed on their elbow, is pretty A-OK in my book.

+ i hate everyone +

I’d imagine that everyone has seen those signs at several locations that state: WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR LOST OR STOLEN ITEMS. I attempted to find a picture of one such a sign, but failed.

Anyhow… The story is this:

I have had to take my car into the Jeep dealership to be fixed about SIX TIMES in the past MONTH. Not only is this ridiculous, but it’s a gigantic chunk of change that I don’t have. In my head, they should tell me everything that’s wrong with the car, then I can cough up the cash, and get it fixed in one fell swoop. Needless to say, Jeep does not believe in this same theory. Not to mention that I am already dying to get rid of this hunk of metal that guzzles gallon after gallon of gas, for an old Jag that is magically converted into biodiesel; but, alas – money stops me there, too. Something like this would work just fine. Whoever can work that out….lemme know.

Back to the story.

So, it’s the sixth time that my car is screeching at me to take it in to the dealership, and coolant is leaking everywhere I go. Even the parking attendants at my work are annoyed with me because “some green gooey liquid is spilling everywhere.” They already hate me because I am apparently the only person who leaves during the day to get the HELL out of the office, so – they have to help to get my (leaking) car out of the sardine packed garage.

I stray again.

Casey tells me that he will loan me his car. Probably more so that he will be able to drive his Monte Carlo and look like an American badass, but, at least he’s trying to help out.
After some downright amazing massages, I end up chilling with Jessica in Beverly Hills to have my car towed to the Jeep dealership. On a Sunday night. This is the first place where I didn’t have my best judgment.
I call AAA and put in a request to have my car towed. They tell me that the dude will arrive in about 45 – 55 minutes. Jessica decides to take a quick shower pre drive to the dealership, and then to Casey’s.
About two minutes in I get a call that the driver “has arrived.”
FUCK.

I run down the enormous driveway to tell the AAA dude that we were expecting him in an hour and my friend isn’t ready.
He gives me the worst look of disdain I have ever seen and tells me that I have 5 minutes, 10 MAX!!!
(Jesus, you’re a dick.)
I speed upstairs, pull Jess out of the shower, and tell her that the guy is downstairs already, and is telling me that we have to leave NOW.
Jessie gets it together, and as we are pulling her car down the driveway, we see that the dude hasn’t even finished loading my car onto the flatbed.
(You have to be fucking kidding me. I’m glad we rushed.)

I get out of the car, and tell him that I need to get my parking pass and a necklace out of my car that is hanging on my rearview mirror.
He says that he “cannot allow that.”
I can’t deal with him, anymore, so...I get back into Jess’s car, and we wait for him to finish loading the monster onto his truck.
THEN he proceeds to back down Tower Road with this HUMONGOUS flatbed truck WITH another SUV on TOP of it.
Tower Road is an extremely curvy, narrow street in the hills of Beverly Hills; this dude must be on crack. There’s no other explanation.

We arrive at La Brea Jeep and there is a car blocking the driveway to where I would have to leave my car.
I see that the AAA dude is lowering my car to leave it on the street.
I stop him and ask him what the hell he is doing – seeing as there is a sign on the street that says NO PARKING FROM 7AM TO 1OAM.
Does he think I’m gonna come back at 6:30 in the morning to move my car that is probably about to blow up? I don’t think so.
He then tells me, after yelling at me and calling someone, probably a hooker, on his cell phone, that he’ll have to take my car to their lot to store over night.
I say that that’s fine.
He says that it will cost me extra, and that I have to pay up front.
I say, “Fine. Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”
(Meanwhile, by the way, Jessica is rocking out in her car to some new music phenomenon that she has discovered in the back of her old, beat up Eddie Bauer.)
AAA man finally says that it’s over 100 bucks, and that they only take cash or check.
Where I say: “Sir, I don’t carry that kind of cash on me all the time, and I certainly don’t carry checks. Welcome to 2008.”
He calls back whoever he was speaking to previously, comes over to me with some sort of a receipt and lectures me that I “BETTER call and pay in the morning.”
My response? “You picked me up in BEVERLY HILLS, ya jerk. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about me paying you. It’ll happen.”
I sign, and leave the poisonous territory.

The next morning I call the towing company, where they try and charge me upwards of $300 for storing my car over night. I tell them that I am holding a receipt for $100, and that that is all I will be paying.
The dude on the phone says that’s fine, and will have my car towed immediately.
I don’t mention how rude the employee who picked me up was; I can be a nice person…I figure this is the last I’ll have to deal with them.

Moving forward….

After waiting hours to see if the dealership has received my car, I call them up to see if they know anything about anything.
(Also a naïve thought on my part.)
The woman helping me tells me that they did receive my car, and that they will get back to me when they have an estimate.
I tell her that there is no way in hell I am paying a single cent on them fixing what should already be fixed in my car.
She doesn’t really like that response, but agrees with me.
I get a call from her later that evening, informing me that they are still inspecting my car to assess all of the damage.
Great. Sure ya are. i.e., you haven’t really started looking into it.

The next day.
They will be replacing my radiator at no charge.
I don’t even know if that’s what it really needs, but at this point I am so fed up with everyone I have had to deal with in the last day or two, that I just tell them to go ahead.
My car is finally finished and ready to pick up.
BUT….
She wants to inform me that my water pump does need some fixing so I should look into that next time I drop my car off.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

a) I’m never bringing my car here again.
b) I told you to fix everything that needed fixing.
c) The insane people in your sales department actually attempted to SELL me another Jeep when they heard that mine had had so many repairs.

You people are all out of your god damn minds.

Annnnywayyy…..

My boss tells me that we will drive Casey’s car to the dealer, pick up my car, and then drive his car to Burbank to drop it off for him…after all, we’d get to miss a hell of a lot of “work” time, so….I’m down.
We pick my Jeep up, I am happy, and we cruise along.
I notice that there is something different about my car but I can’t place it.
I see that my parking pass which was previously on my rearview is now moved to the dashboard, and a bunch of other crap has been slid around the car.
I can’t place anything else at the time, so, I drive and forget about it.

Now, the thick of it:

Driving to work this morning, I remember to put the parking pass on my rearview and realize that MY MOTHERFUCKING NECKLACE IS GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh no, they did NOT steal my necklace.

I first look around my car to make sure it isn’t there.
Which, of course, it is not.
I get to work and put in a call to La Brea Jeep. They tell me they will look into it and get back to me.
Great. I know what that means.
I then call the towing company and inquire about it with them.
Now THIS dude is being a prick to me and tells me that that is a pretty outlandish threat that I am saying that one of their employees stole my necklace.
I say to him that I am not saying that they definitely stole it, but it’s quite curious that it is missing all of a sudden, and I can tell that other things have been moved around in my car. I’m not an idiot.
He keeps yelling at me, so then I tell him that I wasn't going to say anything, and didn’t at first, but his employee was an absolute CUNT to me, and was rude to me the entire time he was “helping” with my car.
This guy I am talking with then says, “Was it valuable?”
I say that that is not really here nor there, and that it has plenty of sentimental value and I won’t be able to find it anywhere else.
He then says, “I don’t know what anyone would want with a trinket that doesn’t even cost a lot of money.”
I said, “DO YOU KNOW WHAT SENTIMENTAL VALUE MEANS???????????”
Why are people so stupid?

I give up with him, and call the Jeep dealer to see if they have anything more to say.
The woman tells me that she asked everyone who was in contact with my car if they recall a necklace or anything hanging from the rearview mirror – which they, of course, say no to.
She then proceeds to say, “You know, I don’t know if you’ve ever dropped your car off here personally, “
(Umm, I’ve been coming to you guys for over 5 years, so I’d say, yeah, I’ve dropped it off myself.)
She goes on, “but, we have a sign here that states: We are not responsible for any lost or stolen items.”
I tell her how convenient that is for them, so that they can go into anyone’s vehicle and take whatever they’d like and just point to that sign.
That’s real nice.

Therefore, I’ve come to this conclusion:

I’m going to get one of those signs made, and then I’m going to go into some high end store, or CAR DEALERSHIP, steal some shit, run out, and when they come to arrest me, I’m just gonna hold up that sign and say:

“Sorry. I really can’t help you out. I have this sign here.”

Fucking motherfuckers.
Give me my necklace back.


////////

an unfortunate, but also, wonderful update:

Casey has just informed me that he saw the necklace underneath the passenger seat of my car.
Shit.
Guess i should try and reel in that anger from time to time.
HA.

+ Awakening +

During the Spanish-American war a group of artists, from all corners and crafts, gathered to become the “Generation of ‘98” reviving the Spanish’s consciousness and literary culture.
Of the most well known, perhaps, is Antonio Machado with his work: Campos de Castilla. An “intellectual rebel.” [niiiiiice.]
His influences, and greatest friends, included the likes of Paul Verlaine, Ruben Dario and Oscar Wilde.

I was in yoga this morning (finally) – I sometimes take class from this teacher right down the street from me, who devotes the whole class to playing unbelievable music. Today, he played this poem by Machado over synthesizers and American beats. It was incredible.

+ + + +

No, my soul is not asleep.
It is awake, wide awake.
It neither sleeps nor dreams.
but watches,
its eyes wide open,
far-off things, and listens
at the shore of
the great silence.

+ ps, this is for my girls +

fucking sluts.

///////

and this.

+ bullet flowers. and what it is to be alone +

I haven’t taken a Friday night for myself in some time.
Months.
Many of them.
I sometimes forget how nice and calming it is to open my door, set my things down, lay on my bed, and soak into just sitting with myself.
For years, the only thing I ever really wanted to do was be on my own.
I lost touch with everyone, and wasn’t on a quest to get them back.
The things we do to ourselves – the critiques and the rants and the dumbing down of things; the perpetual vices and having-to-haves of being a human.
Original sin doesn’t have to be so bad.
It’s really ok; we don’t have to go on fighting ourselves.

I didn’t want to know anybody.
And I didn’t even want to be anybody.
I knew I yearned for better days, but was in a state of daily combat so intensely, that saying “I quit,” and losing my breath, was so much more appealing than actual survival.

And then I came through.

Things can’t ever be what we want them to be.
All the time, at least.
I’m trying to give myself the moments where they do...work. out.
Always unexpected.
And it doesn’t really matter if you don’t see the sun shine through just at first.
It could be that you just don’t want to see it – so you won’t.

Sometimes I hate admitting that the people I know in my life, are without a doubt, irrefutably molding me into these fingers and limbs, and other things.
But,
Everywhere I look, every single thing I see and have and touch reminds me of one person or another.
I guess that’s why I keep all of this shit around.

What I’m discovering is this:
I don’t need all these things.
I don’t need anyone around all the time.
I don’t need to wonder what someone else is thinking, about me or otherwise.
I don’t need to label myself a devil, when a time or two, the angel in me just won’t cease.
I need to lift this vessel I have.
Even if I despise it for some moment, every day;
And know that I’m not going to let myself out of it just now.
Just this yet.
This body.
My mind,
Too too too too too much thinking
All of the time.

But, it’s good.
For tonight.

+ this is for you +

and you know why.



endless nights
i lay awake
in cotton soft
warm embrace.

you wanted
to save
all
that i was.

let me
tell you...

you did.

it
you
this
was always enough.

you made me
love
the trees.
and you.

+ i like them +

+ break my body, hold my bones +

everything.

is nothing.

i don't want to have faith in anybody anymore.

i'll be on the water.
you can meet me where it breaks.

+ listen +

i have a feeling that something of this nature is going to rise quite frequently.
so, take it for what it's worth.

this is the song that i have been listening to non stop, moment by moment, for some reason.
i never really know which one is going to stick.
but...
looks like this one has done it.

her voice is like charcoal.
she sounds cold.
sadness entering -- but she loves it.

listen if you please.
and thank you to the one who informed me of this little technique.



for a more visual effect...

+ gimmie some time +

i'll be speaking on things of value here, i promise.
my head is, on an almost hourly basis, bombarded with propositions into how the world, within the limits that we (or i) can understand, actually works.

i'm currently figuring out how to work this monster of a machine --
computers, let's just say, are not necessarily the best of my friends.
neither are the people i "know," but that's for another discussion entirely.

annnywayyy...

figuring out how to post items of interest.
soon.
thank you.
goodbye.

//////////

HOWEVER:

for the time being.
a kind gentleman made me aware of this video a few days ago.
i'm thinking of using it for many things.
of which i won't admit now.
but, the likeness of, perhaps, will come to fruition in due time.
if you're interested -- check it out.

+ sweetheart, we love you +

it's hard to believe when someone turns on you,

but when they do -- what you can't believe is that you hadn't seen it coming the whole time.

what good is blood if there's not crimson in it left?

what good are you, if you can't even take a step for yourself?

do you know any piece of your structure to be true?

she came to me

feeble, and weak, and singing of the kingly.

she gave me flowers to whisper, wet, the dusk to sleep;

and swords and crystals to protect what she gifted.

little lovelies.

sweet

in a perfect, tiny row.

as she bashed their heads

to bits,

and iron-red-milk spilled from every pore.

and when she knelt down to their mess,

she missed them for the first time.

and held their nimble toes.

///////



"That night when he went back to his hotel, he wept for his dead children and all the other castrated boys, for his own lost youth, for those who were young no longer and those who died young, for those who fought for Salvador Allende and those who were too scared to fight."

Roberto Bolaño, Last Evenings on Earth (2006)

+ the doctors have no answers +

rid your mind of mine;
and, here is his:



CONGRATS, CHINASKI



as I near 70
I get letters, cards, little gifts
from strange people.
congratulations, they tell
me,
congratulations


I know what they mean:
the way I have lived
I should have been dead in half
that time


I have piled myself with a mass of
grand abuse, been
careless toward myself
almost to the point of
madness,
I am still here
leaning toward this machine
in this smoke-filled room,
this large blue trashcan to my
left
full of empty
containers


the doctors have no answers
and the gods are
silent


congratulations, death,
on your patience.
I have helped you all that
I can


now one more poem
and a walk out on the balcony,
such a fine night there


I am dressed in shorts and stockings,
gently scratch my old
belly,
look out there
look off there
where dark meets dark

it's been one hell of a crazy

ballgame

-- Charles Bukowski, from "Third Lung Review" - 1992

+ foundations +

i didn't think that this is something i'd ever begin.
but
the more i stay away,
the heavier it beckons.


from the start
i had always been a poet;
my mind working in small fragments,
rather than expanded themes.


so...
a toast to days
that could've been more like this one.
billiards of 1909,
and men in suits.