Sunday, February 28, 2010

Hula Hoops Forever

So I am reading this Tuesday at one of my favorite places to read (and no, they're not ALL one of my favorite places to read). The place being the Wine-O bar, where readings are hosted and toasted by the ineffable Abbi Dion. If you've never been there, all I can say is come and bring your champagne shoes.


7:30pm - 10:30pm


447 Poplar Street, Philadelphia
(N 5th and Poplar, bit south of Girard)

Also reading are Hailey Higdon, who you really must see, Stephanie Marum and Mike H. Martin. I'm told the "H" stands for "hurricane." All heavy hitters. Basically this reading is one of those late 80s supergroups where everybody was in another megaband before but now have combined their rock powers so as to rock yet harder.

As for myself, I'm going to read a children's book for ungrownups I wrote last winter called Girlette's Disordered Alphabet. I've been saving it for the right time, and that time is now. Here's three of the poems, gotta come out to hear the other letters.


Girlette is not about
to try to explain herself.

Please, we beg, please Girlette,
we just want to get
to know you better!

Absolutely not!
she says,
that's how it starts
and then
next thing you know
there's tabloid journalism
all over everywhere.

So just the facts!

Name: Girlette
Age: 9
Hair/Eyes: Yes, both.

Likes: myself, hula hoops, kitties, dresses, etc.
Dislikes: dolls, tea parties, Boy, Jr.

But Girlette!
we protest,
That's not enough!
We need more!
Girlette! Please!
You don't have to tell us
everything, just, maybe,
how about one thing
for every letter
in the alphabet?

Girlette twists up her mouth,
dubious, thinks it over.

Alright, she says, but listen:
I'm doing you a favor
so nobody better try to
paparazzi me later on.



Boys are something I
generally oppose,
says Girlette,
and none more so
than Boy, Jr.

He is a BEAST!
And also very BAD!

He stinks and he has no
manners to speak of
and if he
tries to kiss me again
I think I'll slug him.


Insects are not,
I repeat,
NOT proper toys,
Girlette insists,
though apparently
no one told
Boy, Jr.

He is so gross.
I tried to tell him:
Stop playing with bugs
they will not
fight to the death
in that Bell jar
no matter how much
you shake it!

He didn't listen.
He never does.
Do you know what he did do?
He ate a bug!
I mean really ATE it!

Then he chased me around
and tried to kiss me,
so I slugged him.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010's a recipe

Mildred Pierce, a lovely zine edited by John Bylander and former Philadelphian Megan Milks, just posted a brief interview with me as part of their series on starving artists. They also talked to Leeyanne Moore and Sandra Newman, among others. So read those words already.

And, on the topic, here is the recipe for my national dish, Meximess. A big pot of vaguely Mexican food that's delicious, cheap, and lasts for days. I had to invent this in Chicago when I discovered that the only grocery stores in my neighborhood were Mexican ones. It has gradually been perfected over the years.

1. Some kind of meat, such as chorizo or chicken or carne enchilada or cecina. Or no meat, if you prefer.

2. Onion/garlic

3. Cumin and some kind of dried chili peppers, salt and pepper

4. Beans, I like black, you do whatever

5. Rice.

Put the rice on. Obviously in a separate pan, brown the meat then toss in the onions and garlic, then the various spices. Sweat the onions then toss in the beans. When they're hot add the rice and stir like mad.

You can serve this either on small tortillas, like tacos OR in a big tortilla, burrito-style, or even in a bowl with some tortilla chips if you're feeling informal. I always always top mine with fresh pico de gallo, sour cream and Yucateca hot sauce. You have my permission to do whatever you like.

I made this earlier tonight and the total cost was $24. It'll last 3 or four days.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Instant Poem Mix, Add Water

A collaborative poem by myself, Ryan Eckes and Kelly Whiskey.

Sweet Calcutta Rain

When I come
I come blood
and glitter and
plasterdirt thru
my hair, which is
made of a baseball
cap I bought at
Q mart,
the sweet dirt mall
offering stolen power tools
and miniature animals.
(Like goats and ponies <3!)
Draining day after
day through the
glory hole, peek-a-boo!
I threw shoes through
your mom's open mic.
She said,
I'ma give you a
buckfifty if you
don't clean your room and
make me a vodka and OJ (aka screwdriver.)
Aka nine-liveser, I
want to fuck the
entire Danish
curling team.
Seriously. Throw
the cat off the balcony
already. You know it
will land on its feet
it's a cat we're on
the 15th floor.
Take the stairs down
to check
cause I'm skurred of
the time we got stuck in
the elevator at Disney World!
Danish girls! You must
whip it! Whip it good!
Last time I was whipped
was in Girl Scout camp.
I'd like a smoothie, please.