response 51 of 178:

May 4 11:42 UTC 2000

Thanks.  I was just thinking about the fact that nobody's
done anything yet with my list in #48.

response 53 of 178:

May 14 17:51 UTC 2000

<suddenly sees brighn and remmers doing a litle jig to "Dueling Banjos">

response 55 of 178:

May 16 19:02 UTC 2000

My nose has become a crusty condominium,
home to new tenants: a virus, a "bug."
My throat is their wreck room,
my ears ring with clamor
as they move in their sofas, their TVs, their rugs.

This reviled lozenge I suck on brings no relief;
they just laugh as I pucker
on its fake lemon taste.
They burble, now humored, they jiggle with glee,
"Our landlord is naive of our strength, how sweet."

All alone this weekend, with only these foes
and my tender toilet, whom I crouch beside, 
who listens and understands when I pray
for surcease, for my pernicious residents
to abandon their lease.

From the window, I can see my Sonoma,
amorous truck that calls to me.
"Will you be alright, my lady?" it asks.
White ride, you are my predestined horse,
for we go to the doctor on Monday.

---
serious drawls
snug caffine
rudimentary pecan
plastic beansprouts
vicious rubberband

response 57 of 178:

May 17 11:11 UTC 2000

<remmers LOL at #55.  splendid, splendid!>

response 59 of 178:

May 18 00:01 UTC 2000

<grin>  I didn't think it was all that good...
Are my phrases weird enough for you rowdy lot or do I have to break out some
"heartfelt rudabagas" to appease you?

response 61 of 178:

May 20 14:39 UTC 2000

(just as a sidenote: I saw the phrases "snug caffine" and "serious drawls"
on a flyer for a retro consignment shop in Tallahassee.  The oddity of those
phrases has always nagged at me; they were plopped on the side of the flyer,
seeingly without reason.  so I thought it would be appropriate to use them
here.  if nothing, someone can give me some better insight into how one would
use such combinations in a sensical fashion.)

response 63 of 178:

May 23 22:24 UTC 2000

Take me to the midnight cafe,
where the goths skulk
and speak in serious drawls
over their cups of snug caffiene.

I escaped once:
A vicious rubberband has pulled me back
to their den.

In my mind, hippies choke on plastic beansprouts,
lovers devour momentary cyclones,
and the rudimentary pecan fights to free from the freeze

Take me to the midnight cafe
And let me skulk amongst the goths.

response 65 of 178:

May 25 00:20 UTC 2000

I am the newest superhero
in a stage of intermediate symbiosis
with a plant-like creature
that gives me renewed strength
in chlorophyllic photosynthesis.

My sidekick is a green sturgeon
that morphs into a dry foil
to battle my evil foe,
a hypochondriac nemesis
who threatens the life of all
bacteria everywhere
with hot ice,
insanely vowing to disinfect the earth
no matter the cost.

(insanely stupid, but hey.. my creativity has suffered under pressure)

fragrant buttcrack
exploding barrel
detachable lips
quiet cacophony
fiery belch

response 67 of 178:

May 25 23:13 UTC 2000

I was so brain-tired at the time that being crass seemed to be an 
appropriately crabby and bellicose response.  I am *so* frustrated.. 
school has been so stressful that my creativity has just been really 
hampered.  So I figured, heh, let them play with that gross crap.

Sorry-- don't take it too personally.  I must be burning the candle at 5 
ends.  (Extra wicks, y'know?)

response 69 of 178:

May 30 17:51 UTC 2000

Returning to Chicago once more
sleep-addled and stunned by catch-that-early-train 
5 am waking
and ready to be pulled brightly out into the sunlight of
bright lights, big city,
ready to feel at home under that skyline,
but first...

...the quiet cacaphony of freight line and steelmill set in.

Gary, Indiana, fragrant buttcrack of Lake Michigan,
rattler of chains, spewer of fumes, awaits.
Not an elegant skyline to be seen, but the contour of smokestacks
pulls the eye uupwards to the morning sun.
Not a hint of gloss, but the dull gleam of rust
and the burnished glow of the lake.
Not a human soul at hand, but pigeons feast,
flatbed trucks convene and converse
and the exploding barrels of gas-carrying train cars
wallow like grim rhinoceroses along the shore.

Not even a touch of familiarity or grace,
and never a brick in sight that feels like home --

but I love it.  I love
the architectural culture shock,
the pollution which swears casually, coolly, like James Dean
lighting another cigarette.  I love the
firey belch of oil-burning smokestacks.

I love the view as we pass by,
and in the haze the entire city seems to be blowing a smoke ring,
exhaling a detatchable pair of lips
which drift skyward with all the cool and class in the world.

response 71 of 178:

May 30 21:19 UTC 2000

Woops, forgot my words....

Sky clippings
Missing knot
Velvet sandwich
Singular forceps
One eye

response 73 of 178:

May 31 01:50 UTC 2000

it's sort of along the same lines as New Jersey being the armpit of the U.S.