Robot Pillow

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I’m all for robot pillows. 
I also love inappropriately large doggies,
and other animals, for that matter, except for men,
around whom I’ll dance, at a safe distance
from my own nascent phallophobia, the woolly chain
of dread that coils around their imagined rubberinesses.
Everything I do’s a secret anthem, wrestling naked
on the floor with my beautiful clone. She serves
guacamole out of his butt-dimple, then stars in
a fetish video about rebuilding the Aryan nation
with a man wearing a bonnet and a diaper, fanny
like a hippo’s yawn and thoughts like semi-deflated
beach balls. I love women shrieking in orgasm,
hot naked doggie clothes, cats on leashes, Arapaima,
your bathroom décor, musical theater, and white
people precisely because they make me uncomfortable.
Anyone who knows me knows that I suffer
from vasovagal syncope, swooning at the slightest
mention of modern families, Combat Barbies,
robot pillows, Germans, etc.  Recently, while
visiting the aquarium, I became aware of the existence
of a very large fish:  the Arapaimia.  This fish
is inappropriately large. Disabled children fish are
human beings. They’re not some robot fish trinket you
saunter into town to buy on your day off. Cats in the
same way are like porn collections, like emotional support
robots in a fetish video starring Octomom and her
fourteen starving human larvae.  Why do people
think this sort of thing even funny?  Gary was funny,
until he wasn’t. Scarves should also be just the right
length so that it doesnít become a hazard.
Seeking braless teen animal parody,
burst parody kimigayo, and all the things I forgot
I wanted for their imperfection: smelly as
hamburgers, bad-ass as ice cream, pure as
fruit snacks for grownups in a stadium full
of crazed Muslims with cut-off vaginas.
A diaper is for sale on the internet.  George
and Laura Bush are getting their freaks on.
She is a plastic pig she looks like she’s melting.
Just fuck off you useless hard faced attention
hungry slapper, haunting barf’s flower motion poster.
If this thing crawled into bed with me,
it would cure my loneliness but probably
not with a sense of what you’d call relief.
Urinary tract affection –Mutt – urinary
tract affectation.  Mouth tasting of humbugs.
You don’t need to dance here, dance with what
you’ve got, wide-lipped hare.  Taking up time
selling psycho-candy on the train and inventing
words isn’t fair, Jesus bathroom décor!
Arapaima makes me uncomfortable.  Not
comfortable around white people? I feel
uncomfortable around white people? I’m
uncomfortable around white people? Why
do i feel uncomfortable around people? Im
not comfortable around white folks? Feel
uncomfortable around people? Courage
the Cowardly Dog.  Inappropriately large
autarkic amorph object. I feel lonely and
uncomfortable starting people in the eye?
Feel uncomfortable around? Why do i feel
uncomfortable around white people?
Uncomfortable around only white people?
Crawling sweetness. ^^ YAY I CAN POOP
WITH MY UNDERWEAR ON!! Am I being
irrational? I’m all for emotional support robots,
especially soft and fluffy ones that look like
baby seals.

********************

33 days until official menopause!
35 days until my seventh wedding anniversary! Ha!

Straw Men

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The maintenance men make me uncomfortable and are sometimes a disturbance.
I’ve had some Asian men make me uncomfortable with their familiarity. I can’t tell if they are being professional or close to crossing the line.
Camp men make me uncomfortable. I hate myself. I don’t mind camp men, I just wouldn’t want to sleep with one. I wish I was straight.
i never put milk in my cereal · mythological creatures; bald men make me uncomfortable. Hair is gross. Girls should only have hair on their head
Men who were socialized as men make me uncomfortable, but men who were socialized as women don’t.
Creepy Awkward Old Men make me uncomfortable
Not all older men make me uncomfortable (we’re talking 40s on up), but there are some strangers that give me a bad feeling.
Men make me uncomfortable and there are only a few I can have conversations with without stammering.
Kilted men make me uncomfortable, especially when it is windy.
I would run like hell because drunken men make me uncomfortable and he has confirmed that he has no self-control while intoxicated
And as a white, male, liberal Englishman, blatant straw men make me uncomfortable.
Something about Saudi men make me uncomfortable
Foreign men make me uncomfortable. Especially the French.
White pants ON MEN make me uncomfortable, I don’t know what it is, it’s too much. I don’t like it, I just don’t!
Socially awkward men make me uncomfortable when they just look at me.
It turns out sensitive men make me uncomfortable. I mean, crying after sex? Really?

things to do with roses

The videos are taking forever to upload.  In the meantime, here are some of the gimmicky things I did at my reading:

I wandered onto the stage from backstage, a red lace schmate on my head, muttering poetry
In between each poem or poem-set I did something with or to a long-stemmed red rose:
I threw rose petals into the audience
I threw a rose into the audience
I plucked a rose petal by petal
I walked into the audience and chose someone to give a rose to.  I gave it to Stan.
I hit a rose against a hard surface
I put rose petals in my bra
I put rose petals in my panties
I got Drew onstage to play the drum kit that just happened to be there and danced about with a rose in my mouth
I put rose petals in my mouth and chewed them making faces because they were so bitter: ugh…then spit them out
I bowed at the end twice crossing two roses over my body

spitting out rose petals:  they were very bitter

funny experience today: art and reality

Today I was showing my CEP students the DVD “Art City: Making it in Manhattan,” a wonderful documentary that features such art luminaries as Louise Bourgeois, Chuck Close, Elizabeth Murray, and Ashley Bickerton.  In the beginning of the film, an art critic named Jerry Saltz introduces himself, saying “I’m an art critic,” and giving his phone number rather rapidly.

I made it a listening exercise for students to note down the phone number he mentioned.  When we were checking answers, it seemed that their version was one digit different from what I had heard. 

We could have listened again to that section of the video, but I decided that there was a more interesting way to find out which was the correct phone number:  by actually calling it.  First I tried my version.  It rang and rang: no answer.  Then I tried the students’ version, and to my surprise, a male voice answered:

Hello?

Is this Jerry Saltz?

Yes it is!

Oh, excellent!  My students here at Pratt were just watching the video of Art City in which you give your phone number and we wanted to see if it worked.

He was effusive.  He said he loved Pratt, that he was a Pratt person, and wanted to know what my students were studying, and mentioned that the film was made twenty years ago, and I said that it was extraordinary that he still had the same phone number.  At the end of our brief conversation, he said something like “I love you: art conquers fear,” or something like that.

Then I held up my iPhone and had all my students shout HI to him.

So that’s my funny experience for the day.  Can you match that? 

Jerry Saltz
HI JERRY!