Hits from Dee Dee Ramone’s Autobiography, Poison Heart

1.     On being in a rehabilitation center: “That was fucked up. They also made me play volleyball. It was a nightmare.”


2.     On quitting the Ramones: “By then I was having a lot of fantasies about jobs […] so I could quit the Ramones. Like being a doorman or a candy store owner, or having a hot dog stand.”


3.     About living by an old graveyard: “Once I went down there to get a loose brick and a dead person’s hand fell out of the hole where the brick had been […] the hand was all bone, but a gold and diamond ring was on its finger […] it must’ve been worth two and a half carats […] the money I got for it at the pawn shop kept me in dope and hostess cupcakes for months.”


4.     On Joey the Artist: “Once Joey bought some fruit and vegetables at the grocery store and used them to do a painting. He churned them in the blender and painted with them—you could either look at the painting or eat it.


5.     On End of the Century: “I still have no idea how [Phil Spector and the Ramones] finished End of the Century, or who actually played bass on it.”  

Art! and Culture!

Four years ago, maybe less, I was at an after party for a self-publishing event. I had just come back from the 7-11 with another person. Walking in the door, I was recognized by a stranger for the first and probably only time in my life. 
He came in from out of town to attend the readings and things. "Do you write Let It Sink?" he said. Yes, I told him, bewildered. "I really like your zine," he told me, even touching my shoulder, "but that zine writer over there changed my life!" And in saying this, he pointed across the room  toward a person who had been sexually harassing me for months and months. "Changed your life like in a good way," I asked, "Yeah!" he said. Then I reached into my bag for a 7-11 beer, and I drank it.

Last summer I took a pile of money I'd saved and turned it into plane tickets. Soon I was in Barcelona. Mostly I remember that there were Australians everywhere and none of them listened to Royal Headache. I saw palm trees and signs in Catalan, English, then Spanish, in that order. I went for walks and listened to London Calling and read Homage to Catalonia. 
At the hostel where I stayed, the two night staff workers, young people from Mexico City, were the only ones awake while I was trying to adjust to the new timezone. Talking, It came out that we all liked rock music and that I was in a band.
The next night, one of the staff, a guitarist who was about my age said that he searched online and heard my music. He liked my band, but had I heard of his favorite group of all time, also from Chicago, the great punk rock group, the best of them all, Mest?

Prose Poem #3

Here is a short thing I wrote about a CD release party in 2005. A guy bit me, and I scared coworkers.

 "My Education"

            Bobby the night engineer would call at 4am to confide things. “I do not like my job,” “Whiskey leaves a bad smell.” 

            Once he told me he'd been thinking of faking his death. I asked how. 

            “It will look like an overdose…” he whispered. 

            “People will believe it,” I said. 

This, the year of my education. I learned to stop kissing my boss, be fearful of the Halsted street police who struck me in their cars and mourned the death of tsars, and soon after I lost my limp Bobby returned to become our shitty Lazarus, threw a revival party in October. Everyone came. Leaves hopping from trees made us cinematic. Denim boys smoking outside with neck tattoos made me nervous. As I ascended the stairs I heard a thud, and I arrived in time to see everything begin.

“That’s no way to treat a lady!” – the last thing Greg said before his nose was shattered, a milk carton exploded against Bobby’s chest, a man with a swallow on his throat bit my thumb while friends leaked through the window onto neighboring roofs. This went on for some time.

I am a Barecelonan

I try to draw a little. I keep thinking, draw more, take an art class, get better at things, but I know there's no time for that. I like Joan Miro's monsters and people, so I bought a book of his lithographs. I figure drawing isn't my thing, so forget it, I'll just draw as he does and see what happens in a few years. My goal is to have an interesting tiger.

Yelper of the Week

Hi Jim, 

We wanted to let you know that we've removed your reviews of Earth Pups Dog Care, Londo Mondo, and China Night Cafe. Our Support team has determined that they fall outside our Content Guidelines (http://www.yelp.com/guidelines) because they lack a firsthand customer experience.  

We hope you will continue to participate on Yelp, while keeping in mind our Content Guidelines.

4/5 Stars, Earth Pup Dog Care

Around 6:30 am I woke up confused. I kept having my friends 
stuck in my dreams like stubborn nails. But I didn't put them 
there, so who did? I keep thinking that my mind should be under 
my control. And that I should have serious dreams during the 
week about getting work done - not of warm weather or 
wandering without purpose and seeing movies impulsively. 
Because I keep having these frivolous dreams, and because it 
is October, I can't help but feel that I might be possessed, or 
under some spell, like the 1422 witches of France, 
bad at play and emotionally delayed.

Spookiest Lunch

This is some spooky lunch art I made between periods. 

Uh Huh Well Yeah, Basically

Well, gee I guess this is my blog, now, huh? Oh wow, I'm going to write the best things in it, OK? If you give a single shit about your intake of culture you must check back here weakly for

• advice, 
• pictures, 
• and episodes
• and zine reviews
• and thoughts on teaching, perhaps, but most likely no. 

I'm going to use this thing to express myself to the max, but with only a few words, you know? All this and more, unless suddenly my personal life (as in walking around, as in coffee and riding my bike) begins to satisfy my desperate need for attention. Well, gotta go, my friend are here!