look at me go



so I am writing now yeh I want to I got to

be a real writer now. and I was last night. and yow

it's going to take some time. you've pissed away enough years by

now so the feeling you want to elicit now is the way

you used to feel loitering in those artist's studios



where they let you play guitar and sing and sing you did

and drink you did and smoke you did

and this for the fear. but not too much now

or it'll hurt the work. but without it maybe

the work no gets done. so you use this as means

for a time



so last night I drank 11 of those damn Icehouse beers

yeh and 11 must be my limit because I woke up

face down on the couch and the dog was barking

at me from the kitchen. he'd scattered some plastic

grocery bags from the bag sock that hangs on a door knob



and he'd removed the tiny plastic plug from the small purple

squirt gun we keep by the sink for catfight prevention.

but he didn't chew the squirt gun and he didn't chew

any bags or anything so I got away with one. the time

was 1:38 a.m. I had long ago put the laptop away



but had already

written the poem below



the dog had to go to the bathroom like a mofo

so I took him out quickly and then realized I'd

forgotten to put on shoes but said fuck it so I walked

out in my socks. lit a butt. the dog squatted

and out came a lot. german shepherds as a breed



are notorious for their large, soft stools.

I went back in and made it into bed. overslept

till nearly 8 'cause my baby's away on a work

trip. made it in to my cubic hole by 9:30.

I am telling everything but what I came here to tell you



but now the Americans surrounding me are cackling and gamboling

away as usual causing me to reflect that it's no wonder

this country is so

fucked I mean talk about bad



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