modern man_

wakes up at 9:40_
makes cup of white tea_
drinks cup of white tea/checks email_
eats brazil nuts/dark chocolate_
writes to page 109 of screenplay_
checks email_
cooks sweet potato/garlic/collards/brandywine tomato in pan with olive oil_
adds eggs/tortilla/obscene quantities of hot sauce_
gulp_
checks email_
takes soccer ball to beach_
sand too hot for feet_
showers/shaves_
gets text re. poolside gathering_
reads several pages of a book from library_
declines invitation_
worries_
feels death approaching_
samples old blues song into mpc_
strums guitar_
worries_
looks online at dj software/finds pacemaker_
needs pacemaker_
needs two_
makes a beat on different drum machine that doesn't require samples_
adds shaker/3 vox/guitar_
text from woman: pretty/musician/nice_
checks email_
sets up twitter/facebook for music project_
resents facebook_
cuts pictures out of old playboy magazine, throws it away_
eats raw coconut_
craves apples and beer_
thinks about ex-girlfriend_
thinks about meditating but doesn't_
text to bandmate_
hears what sounds like a gunshot outside (probably not)_
text to woman (above) re. apples/beer_
posts to blog_
turns off keyboard and drum machine_
walks to video store: l'age d'or is scratched_
exchanges for un chien andalou_
cooks lentil soup + broccoli + bread_
checks email_
worries_
fends off death with glass of wine_
meditates on worrying_
puts in un chien andalou dvd_
thinks about women_
thinks about paris_
thinks about imminence of college football season_
thinks about luxury automobiles_
ejects un chien andalou dvd_
reads rimbaud poem_
pointedly does not check email_
reclines in bed_
worries_
thinks about death approaching_
hears sirens outside_
falls asleep_
dreams of giant red snake with tiles for scales arranged in a fresco of the garden of eden_

i make music.

bless your heart.

attachments...

... of a comfortable kind...

slow from sleep
she sees dregs of red wine behind a lead window eye,
and a new half-day takes her to the road and a smoke and jolly good time.

yes, i tried to find love but i couldn't.
i thought she would budge but she wouldn't.

i'm slow from sleep
body heat cuts into cold sheets and i'm finding there's nothing less prudent
than an ill-advised rhyme and a dumb body aching for more of her kind.

il mondo di vogue

angelaria
nom de plume
slender, powerful
balance of fragments
14 floors above ground