well I think 2007 is gonna be a good year especially if you and me see it in together

ho-hum, yes the ned of the year, umm i mean end but ned seems appropriate. Also the beginning of a new year, ho-hum. Have I lost interest? Did I have interest? Would this be a good resolution? to be Interested? To be interesting would probably be too much to expect. Maybe just not dis-interested. Disinterested? fuck I don't know. Is this boring yet? am i losing interest in this? was i up too late last night? fernet fernet fernet and trivial pursuit. what better way to stay up until 4 in the morning than trying to get all the plastic slices of the pie? The Cook mountains are in the alps of New Zealand. YES! pulled that one out of deductive guessing. Our final victorious answer was zero but now I can't remember the question. Also won the NDWHE (non-demoninational winter holiday event) Yahtzee game with a score of 318. Take that you siblings and sibling progeny!

Oh you poor miserable man.

My nephews killed countless nazis on xmas day. every time i looked up some small anonymous military figure would be at the end of a gun barrel sight and then blam blam blam he'd go down.

adios 2006!

peter boyle

Jesus was flyin' !

my own tv show

still sick
coughing like a wounded banshee
drinking orange juice by the glass

You could have your own tv show by filming yourself, uploading it to youtube and then linking to your blog.

Good morning. I have no life. Now i will proceed to cough, drink multiple cups of coffee and perhaps smoke a cigarette.
In other news of the day OJ Simpson is still a horses ass. Apologies to horses.

Robert Altman 1925-2006

McCabe & Mrs. Miller!

the cats meow

haiku for my oldsmobile

Bell weather days
of sore throat and "red plum"
painting
measure my days like dvd's...

is it scratched?

whiskey for the throat and
cigarettes for the fuck sake of it

I bought new sheets

cell phone Gomorrans

from Halloween

Mt. Sinai hospital 1935

Leonia, NJ

I was working in a small town in New Jersey just across the George Washington bridge from Manhattan and I found a box of old negatives that someone was throwing away (along with a multitude of other stuff). I love poking through old stuff and this is one of the images from the box. This one's from the thirties.

What, no youtube?

SF Gate-Baron Cohen Attacked
Comedian Sacha Baron Cohen was attacked in New York City last week after playing a prank on a passerby while in character as Kazakh journalist Borat.

The star was on his way to a dinner date with his actor friend Hugh Laurie, after they had both appeared on NBC's "Saturday Night Live."

Cohen approached the man and asked, "I like your clothings. Are nice. Please may I buying? I want have sex with it."

The man responded by punching Cohen in the face repeatedly.

Laurie was forced to step in and push the man away, so Cohen could escape.

A source tells British newspaper The Sun, "Sacha is very lucky he didn't get a much worse beating."

my pearl for an oyster

sleeping way too much
for any normal human

i sidestep dreams
looking for sidewalk

confrontations are not comforting
so do not drink so much

maybe

Dashboard Man III: The Legacy

Dashboard Man races to the scene of the crime;
burnt toast.
Damn!
start over
oops coffee spill
shit
not on the new computer
thank god
Dashboard Man finds his way
to the editing floor

2. Dashboard Man wanders down Sunset Boulevard.
The sun is a like an aching forehead.
He thinks of himself: William Holden or Strother Martin?
" Idiots! I've got idiots on my team. "
He stops at a used car lot and ponders an '86 Sentra
What is Dashboard Man without a car?

gibber-esque

Burl
ives-esque
blogger reformats
poor ee Cummings
wouldna had a
cchance

Friday

something
something
something
else
riveted
to
my
sullen
brain
pain
drain
state of Maine
wouldnt
let guns and roses
perform
with alcohol on
stage
"fire hazard"
so they
didn't

invisible

for some reason my blog isn't loading on my computer so you can see this but i can't. ah the irony!

have you seen my other sock?

internal combustion adventure
Four on the floor
waiting for pork chops to cook
ginger and soy sauce in an iron
skillet
Luau pork chops
skillet from an antique store
near Clear Lake
it just rained and rained
Airstream wetdream
we sat in our silver capsule
and played
cards

dont bother me

smirking, suffering, pissing on walls, being bombed, drinking gin, staring at the wall, hearing gunshots, hearing the sound of a lawn being watered, a tv is on, someone is talking.

Visit Beautiful New Hampshire

(09-18) 14:49 PDT Kingston, N.H. (AP) --

A search for a tuxedo-wearing robber forced area schools to lock down Monday before police captured a suspect in the afternoon.

Police in Brentwood said a gunman in a purple shirt and a tuxedo robbed a store in their town around 9 a.m., then jumped into a Cadillac and led police on a 100-mph chase. Police said the robber, still armed, ran into the woods after crashing his car in Kingston shortly before 10 a.m.

Schools were locked down as police with dogs and a helicopter searched the woods off Route 125 and the area of the Kingston Fairgrounds.

Police said they captured Eugene Fitzgerald, 36, Monday afternoon.

Officers said they found Fitzgerald, an unemployed welder, strolling through the intersection of Mill and Coach roads at 1:45 p.m.

"The guy was wearing shorts, walking down the street, drinking an iced tea," Rockingham County Sheriff Dan Linehan said.

sometimes

to make a stand
against the fog
he made a sword
of electricity
and carried it on wires through
the city

he trained the crows
to carry the wind

his ship was built of pepsi cans
and frozen pizza boxes

he received no mail
even credit card companies avoided him

his home was invaded by young women
wearing "hoodies"
Asking him to play the harmonica , they laughed,
nervously

the walls were painted to resemble
a half painted paint-by-numbers forest

sometimes he thought he
saw a half painted leprechaun
grinning at him

the fog was shipped in from foreign countries
the mail woman would leave a notice

please pick up parcel at local post-station
between noon and 4:30 PM

ace of cups

dreadful sorry
about all that

spilt the milk
and kicked the cat

threw the paper
at my life

computer screen keeps
blacking out

the Pseudtriarchs moved in next door. Seems like they've been here forever. They have the most perfect lawn in the neighborhood. He's an arms dealer and she's a housewife.

turn up the heat yo , representin

Naguib Mahfouz 1912-2006

Naguib Mahfouz
Originally uploaded by catherine magma.

Living in Rome

I saw Barbara Bush on a motor scooter
she looked like Tiberius

I dont want no more capucchi
i'm starting to get the shakes

my toga is from the Gap
i like the cargo flaps

its where I keep my GPS
it tells me where I am

I'm living in Rome
I'm living in Rome
I'm living in Rome
I'm living in Rome

My sister's a Centurion
down in Half Moon Bay

I give her the thumbs up
while I smoke a cigarette

my brothers a fighter
down at the Cow Palace

he used to be into drugs
now he's a gladiator

I'm living in Rome
I'm living in Rome
I'm living in Rome
I'm living in Rome

the infidels are at the door
with a nuclear catapult

they've got some bizarre ideas
about only having one god

old Zeus is getting angry
he said to W

oh Caesar please take charge
911's on your side

I'm living in Rome
I'm living in Rome
I'm living in Rome
I'm living in Rome

I don't think I can take much more
of orgies, slaves, and wine
I've got too much time to worry
who put what
in my drink

I'm living in Rome
I'm living in Rome
I'm living in Rome
I'm living in Rome

August is a summer day

Heading out
to the symphony
of garbage trucks

the future
is noisy and hot
sweat &
neuralgia
its not the heat
its the stupidity

waking in the night
worrying about ridiculous
things like
light bulbs

atrophy of
synaptic transponders
dreaming about a doctor
asking me

"why do YOU think you're so tired?"

Hasselhoff in shaving accident in London Hotel

AP Report: Hasselhoff Too Drunk to Fly


David Hasselhoff was turned away from a British Airways flight because he was drunk, a British newspaper reported Thursday.

The tabloid Sun said the former "Baywatch" and "Knight Rider" star was told he could not board the flight Wednesday from Heathrow Airport to Los Angeles. Witnesses told the newspaper Hasselhoff appeared to have trouble standing and told staff he was upset about his divorce from Pamela Bach.

The actor has had several brushes with the tabloid press during a recent stay in Britain.

Last month, he sliced four tendons and an artery in a shaving accident at his London hotel.

Christmas Day 1926

Gramps strangest fight was against Chali Hussain, the one eyed arab.
Chali had lost an eye in a factory mis-hap in the early part of 1925. He had a glass eye that always seemed to get knocked sideways during a fight so it looked like either he had a lazy eye or he was eyeing some dame in the first row. Gramps said it was disconcerting because when the eye initially shifted it would cause gramps to look over where the eye was looking and then POW , Chali would hit him with a shot to the head. Sometimes the eye would rotate all the way around so it was just a white eye staring out at you. Gramps said it used to give him the willys.
He and Chali fought several times but the strangest fight was Christmas night 1926. Gramps said It was the coldest night of the year, blizzard conditions, but the promoters had too much invested to re-schedule. Somehow people managed to make it to the arena and by nine o'clock the place was packed. Cigar smoke filled the air and ladies were laughing and yelling to each other showing off the furs and jewelry they had received from "Santa".
The crowd didn't like Chali very much. He had a little pencil mustache and wore a shiny purple robe with arabic writing and images of the pyramids and camels. His second was a man named Roscoe Mohammed. Roscoe was a little skinny guy who always had a cigarette hanging from his lip. Somehow it just seemed to stick to his bottom lip and it would hang there or flap while he spoke, a long finger of ash clinging to the cigarette, waiting for just the right moment to drop onto Roscoe's already ash covered suit. Roscoe wasn't a Mohammedan like Chali. His real name was Roscoe Lefkowitz. Underneath his clothes he had a Saint Christopher medal and a small silver cross that his wife made him wear.
Gramps had been sick with the flu for several days and had been laying in bed until the day of the fight when he had forced himself to get up and start moving around. He was in no shape to fight but he knew if he didn't fight there'd be trouble. Better to go in, fight a few rounds, and get knocked out then to deal with those bastards, gramps said. I didn't ask who the bastards were. Gramps said there was just too much money changing hands for them to let something like the flu stop a good fight.
The first few rounds were horrible. Gramps got battered. Chali was out for blood and the crowd was crazy with hatred, screaming at Chali, screaming at gramps to kill the rat. Gramps had a cut over his eye and the blood was running into his eye. The bell rang and the third round ended. Gramps seconds worked on the cut and stopped it from bleeding.
"Give it up, Roy" Gramps second said. " He's killing you"
Gramps had a ringing in his ear and the crowd was loud. He thought he heard his second say "Give it to him, Roy."
Fuck it thought gramps, one more round, and then I'm out.
As he came out for the fourth round his legs felt a little better. He started punching harder and Chali's eye got slightly skewed. It was looking straight up as if seeking guidance from the almighty.
Coming out of a clinch Chali caught gramps with a sucker punch square on the chin and dropped him a like a sack of dirt.
The arena was spinning. Grown men were screaming at him to get up. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, spinning, twisting.
Gramps shook the cobwebs out of his head and slowly got to his feet. There was a fire in his head and his adrenaline kicked in. Chali had already thought he had won. He had his arms up and was taunting the crowd. When he started to turn toward where he thought gramps was laying, knocked out, it was on his blind side. He never saw it coming. Gramps hit the side of his head with a shot that would have busted a punching bag.
A news photographer captured the moment as it happened. The old sepia toned photo above gramps desk shows the scene - Gramps, bleeding from the cut on his eyebrow is throwing a fierce punch, his whole body behind it. Chali's face is a mass of contorsion, twisted and battered, as the glove mashes it. His body is at a forty five degree angle as his feet start to leave the ground. Behind them, in the crowd, a beautiful blonde woman is spilling her martini on a fat man seated next to her as she thows her body back. Her eyes and those of the fat man, captured in the brilliant flash of the photograph, are focused on an object floating above them.
Chali Hussain's glass eye.

Post Title

Port, sweet wine of the
gods
boozing in the basement
seeing gramps old boxing gloves
he was quite a fighter
1927 he fought Jimmy La Bonte
for the state title
LaBonte was a mean, half-insane yugoslavian
with a dreadful scar across his left eye
Labonte swore before the fight that he would kill gramps because
gramps had cast aspersions on Labonte's grasp of reality to the press.
what he actually said to Marv Goiter of the Springfield Times was that
Labonte was "batshit fucking loonie". Goiter paraphrased.
Gramps, bloodied and battered, and well behind in points, knocked out LaBonte in the twelfth round
with a vicious roundhouse undercut that Labonte never saw.
After the fight Labonte and gramps became friends and used to
drink together at the Rusty Crow saloon on Elvinhurst Ave.
"Butterscotch Schnapps and an occasional gimlet" gramps said.
"That's all he'd drink."

Sunday April 12, 2004

Im waiting for the 4:30 train/
its coming down Molasses street/
im holding a bag of apples/
i'm wearing a pair of pants/

ive had a vision of god/
standing on the mountain/
his voice was made of tree leaves/
he didnt have no eyes/

abreast the citys future/
im storming in the pub/
ive lost my bag of apples/
Oh baby please dont cry/

sam mcdowell's on the line/
he's calling me i hear/
im waiting for the train/
my breath smells like beer/

it's gone and broken down/
we're standing in the queue/
she said she lost her glasses/
she got em at J Crew/

Dashboard man II: The Accident

dashboard man rides again
"into the wild unknown country where I
could not go wrong" he sings

these windows could use a wash, he thinks
out loud
above, a gull notices a swerving vehicle
and lands a large drop
of guano on its roof

he reaches for a disc
drops his cigarette into his lap
"fuck"
overcorrects and catches the
soft shoulder
wheels spin
"FUCK!"
over the edge and down a rambling hillside
through the chapparral toward the
buddhist retreat
manzanita and gooseberry
brambles tear and scrape
Below,
a meditating
young woman curses,
"What is that fucking noise?"

Liberty

Liberty
Originally uploaded by catherine magma.

yahweh is a douche -law #614

bbc news- "Behold, Yahweh makes the earth empty, makes it waste, turns it upside down, and scatters its inhabitants.
The earth will be utterly emptied and utterly laid waste; for Yahweh has spoken this word.
Therefore the curse has devoured the earth, and those who dwell therein are found guilty. Therefore the inhabitants of the earth are burned, and few men left."

The House of Yahweh believes it is the one true faith which will be re-established in what it terms "the last days".

The sect members refer to their creator as Yahweh, not God, and the male followers all sport long goatee beards.

"We do not shave our beard completely or our head completely because there is a law in the 613 laws which states that a man should not shave completely his head or completely his beard," explains sect member Dominc Karichu.

"We want to follow each and every word that proceeds from Yahweh's mouth."

The Hidden Costs of Cheap Hotels

1. On the verge of
a drastic wake
and bake
the barometer reads 1018 millibars
and reminds me of mini-bars
the hidden costs of
cheap hotels
and Palm Springs is
112 degrees

2. sometime in the future
forgetting what I was watching
turning over a magazine
Lindsay Wagner Lindsay Wagner Lindsay Wagner

3. My back is aching from extensive
use of "Massaging Hands"
I contemplate a foray to the Ice Machine
The coast is clear
I sprint

In Mervyns

Bon voyage, Dashboard Man
you crimped crusader
your Lucky Strikes are wedged
against a time
sometime in the future
when
you know
friends are moving south
there was a time
when
you were clad
all jean shoulders to boots,
no longer,
your hand searchs
out new sizes
in Mervyns

car horn

with scorn
he effortlessly lifts
the broken eyelid and
glances
weariness amazes
his thoughtless being-
he is one with a pain, pounding
in his right shoulder
somewhere in the distance he hears
a car horn
in a cloth sack
he carries many severed heads
he remembers a game
he used to play

Hasselhoff in tussle with chandelier

BBC News- The All England Club has denied press reports that a "drunken" David Hasselhoff had to be removed from the Wimbledon tennis championships.
Security guards "knew nothing" of the claims, said a spokeswoman, adding the former Baywatch star "wasn't ejected".

He tried to enter the press centre while searching for Court 13 but was not correctly accredited, she added.

The actor, who is filming an advert in the UK, was treated for cuts last week after an accident with a chandelier.

BA alert

BA alert
Originally uploaded by catherine magma.

nacho libre

nacho libre
Originally uploaded by catherine magma.

WEB BLAHG

Yes , oh , yeah it's been a while since I have posted anything. It seems to be the trend amongst those I know with blogs lately. I have to admit when i heard about blogs initially i think my reaction, was, Umm, yeah, that's the last thing I'm gonna do... Thankfully it wasn't.
last night my house mates and I went to a party in the neighborhood, probably about twenty people there, hardly any music...and the cops come at midnight. The cops told the hostess to knock off the "wacky-tobaccy". the place was one giant cloud of herb...
i cut my finger trying to scrape the last of brownies from the bottom of the pan ( typical stoner move) -sliced right into two fingers and started bleeding all over.

Captain Wheezer sat his ass down on the first thing that came to hand. It was a small child.
"Hey, get off me! Hey!

The barrister and the barrista were out on a date and witnessed the whole thing.
"My, what a legal bind that gentleman might find himself in." The barrister commented.
"Would you like some more coffee?" The barrista replied.

Captain Wheezer remembered the old days fondly. Thoughts of smoky days on the campus. Hot tea in dorm rooms, the curve of a young woman's calf.

"Hey! Get off me! Hey!"

Captain Wheezer was hearing voices in his head again. What evil did these voices portend, what ghastly meaning could it have, this 'get off me'?

"Excuse me sir, you are sitting on this young child." An elderly man with dusty chapeau and a glass eye slapped Wheezer with his cane.

"Ah, fuck off you old goat, yer prolly a figment of my demented imagination anyway!' Wheezer spat in the old mans direction.
As he lifted his ass to fart the child slipped out and ran down the street as fast as it could.
Wheezer fell to the cement after a thunderous fart.
"Damn, I farted so hard I moved the earth."

Institution

The white walls are polished every third saturday
I'm sure you'll know he'll find it
satisfactory
the squeak of her shoes was rythmic
Moby could put
ella fitzgerald on top
of it, oh
i'm reaching now,
I can't really seem to recall
the point of
this

Beaver Creek

stolen
effigy sunk in the mud
frostbitten

and dizzy
smearing blackberry jam on
your shoes

douchebaggery
he said
and I had to agree
he was pointing the rifle
at my dog

last day in las vegas chapter twelve

Goddamn him, mother fucker. She picked up the shovel and noticed the blood and a little hair on it.
well, she thought, at least that is probably fucking hurting him.
she couldn't believe she hadn't pushed him out of the car when they got there. That fat fucker, he gets all the breaks, always has, like some twisted fat asian john candy like magoo freak.
she had also left her purse in the car and he was probably going through it right now.
goddamn I'm stupid.
well at least he won't go to the police. those fuckers hate him more than i do.
I could use a cigarette though.
goddamn, i'm gonna have to fucking hitchike back to vegas.
i am such an idiot.

film technique

the
dolls left eye
came off without a hitch
filming in the living room
the redhead with the nice ,
well, film technique
i'm not sure what kind of instrument that is
just don't leave it where someone can sit on it.

who the hell is eric sevareid?

sorting through
old photographs
the
deckled edges
smudged with fingerprints
you used to yell loudly
about how to hold a print, that, and when
the president was speaking on television
or Eric Sevareid was
reporting from Tel
Aviv
now you don't even know
who Eric Sevareid was
and it doesn't matter

the latin

the latin
Originally uploaded by catherine magma.

las vegas revisited

las vegas revisited
Originally uploaded by catherine magma.

things to do today

arranging bowling pins
on the deck of the titanic

counting arrows along
cesar chavez boulevard

measuring my toes for
genetic counseling

drinking red wine
and laying in bed

bitter pill

charming
bitter pill

so hard so
white

so hard to swallow
(no brokeback mountain)

left unattended
and found
in the coat room
in the pocket of
some other
man

sorry bout this

xbox
i don't

miasma of wounded las vegas
coyote

sheer stockings
sinking
in the weight
of an evenings drinking

sorry to see you
go

on the road

on the road
Originally uploaded by catherine magma.

The SF Public Library has Kerouac's original On The Road manuscript on display. It's a 119 foot scroll of typing, no paragraphs. He just stuck one end of the paper in and started typing. That's what Truman Capote said about Kerouac -'That's not writing , that's typing.' Umm, that's typing on speed.
The library also has some blow-up photos of the real life characters that populate the book. People like Lucien Carr, Hubert Huncke, Ginsberg, Cassady, and Mr. William Seward Burroughs of the Burroughs Adding Machine family, seen here in a clipping from a newspaper after he attempted, in Mexico, to shoot a glass off his wife Joan's head and missed. Missed badly.

eat drink and be merry

The sun has come out again in SF after torrential storms over the holidays. Literally and figuratively. I've been looking for a job but the pickings seem pretty slim. It looks like I'll be going back to New Jersey for a couple months to work on copying the archive of an artist.
Went and saw the band The Wine Chuggers on Thursday at the Makeout Room. They were good.
Tonight I'm seeing Ramblin' Jack Eliott. He must be like a hundred years old. The documentary that his daughter made about him is excellent. I highly recommend it.
It's still dark out. I woke up early today because I went to sleep at like eight o'clock last night. Is this blog-worthy?
"maybe nobody looks at your website 'cause it's about you." -New Yorker cartoon
Sean and I got ripped for the Wine Chuggers. Somehow appropriate. We met a cool chick from New York. She said " Your friend's crazy." A not unfamiliar opinion. Sean was howling during the show and I was over in a corner in a stoned sway. I'd had like six vodka tonics and then smoked some herb...