Thursday, January 26, 2012

Why Animal Planet?

Why
Animal Planet
why must every time
Issa Furious is in a bad
mood
and crying
because she's a whiner
like her old man
and I change the channel
so that she can see
jumping monkeys
in the streets of Bangkok
or golden lions
feasting on the corpse of a freshly slaughtered
wildebeest
or an infestation of scorpions in
some Arizonan home
or apes peeling
bananas
(Issa Furious loves bananas,
it was even one of her first words)
or laughing hyenas
or zebras and gazelles in the midst of bedlam
running for their lives
or starving Floridan crocodiles
or talking meercats
or a cave overflowing
with a cloud of rabid bats.

you know, all
of the things that make Issa Furious
stop crying
and start laughing
or at least smiling
as she points at the TV and says
"Dog-gy?"

why
every time I change the channel
must you
be on a
commercial?

Every god damned

time.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Ode to Pop Culture

I taught
Middle School and High 
School 
students for a couple of years. One of the things
that stands out most to
me is that
I would continually allude
to the popular movies of my youth
that contributed to making me the type
of person I was at the time.
Mostly Fight Club
sometimes The Matrix or
Star Wars. You
know
 the shit everyone's seen
and quoted from everyday for years.
"First rule of fight club"
and all that banal
 shit.
I thought the kids would laugh. Instead
they all just looked at me
as if I had started suddenly
to read from my 1996 Toyota
4runner owner's manual.
It wasn't so much a series of faces
displaying shock or
discombobulation.
Merely sheer disinterest.

"Fight Club?" I'd ask, even though it was an R-rated
movie released in 1999
and I was speaking to a room
full of 13-year-old children
who were 5 years old in 1999. "Anyone
seen Fight Club?"

The two or three who were paying attention
slightly shook their heads.

One day, probably
the last day of the semester
a party day
or "free day"
no learning
the kids were allowed to bring food
and we the teachers would show movies.
I brought in the R-rated Fight Club
                   (the school administrators
either didn't know I brought it or weren't hip enough to know
what exactly was depicted in the movie
[violence, bloodshed, graphic sex, cursing])
and then all of the kids were like,
"Oh, that's
            what
you were
                     talking
about."

I think they enjoyed the movie.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Allusions


It takes a… “special”
Kind of child
To watch movies everyday of his
Young life
And come to the conclusion that the United States
Consists of
Only New York and Los Angeles
--Especially when that child lives in Denver.
But that’s what I was.
                I was that
                                … “special”
Child.
I had seen so many movies at such a
                Young age
That I was convinced every single
Part
of
                the U.S.
belonged
in some way or form
to
                either
New York
                                Or Los Angeles.
Denver must’ve been a suburb
                Or some shit.
This is because
Of course
                Most movies take place in either
N.Y. or L.A.
                In Cinemaland, most nowhere else existed.
                Sure, Rocky was from Philadelphia,
Which is a suburb of New York.
                I knew this because it looked cold
All that hot breath boiling from
Rocky’s lips.
                DieHard 2 took place in Chicago
Which was just another word for New York
Or Long Island
                What with the accents and all
It seemed pretty obvious to six-year-old me.

But as I got older
I eventually realized that New York and L.A.
Didn’t constitute the entirety of the United States of America.
No
Instead
Everything worth making a movie about
                Only takes place in L.A. or N.Y.
Nothing exciting happens much
Anywhere else.
Somebody made a movie about Fargo
But I didn’t watch it
                Because obviously nothing happens in that movie
Because nothing happens outside of New York or L.A.
                Must be a movie about people sitting around
Drinking coffee
Having mundane conversations
                As they read the newspaper
And watch the nightly news.
                Maybe one of them is “funny looking”.

Seriously,
I’ve lived in Colorado my whole life.
I’ve never been visited by an alien
                Whose neck extended when he pee’d.
Or alien robots who transform into slick versions
Of
                General Motors sports cars.
The mob doesn’t have much of a presence here.
                Eastern European terrorists
Have never taken a Christmas party
Full of yuppies hostage
                And blown up a building
While trying to steal some bonds
Or something.
              No ghosts
and no scientists running around
with nuclear-powered backpack
              Trying to catch them.
No killer robots from the future
travel back in time to Colorado
              to save the future of the species.

                Or, at least I haven’t heard about it.

Sometimes people fall in love here… I suppose.
                They live and die.
I once saw a story on the news about
A man who risked his own
                Life
To save a child who
                Was drowning in a frozen lake
Somewhere south of Denver.
                I personally know a bunch of alcoholics
And drug addicts.
                So that sort of stuff happens around here.
It seems.
                I went to college
And found it a mostly miserable
And disappointing
                Experience.
I met several people who had nervous breakdowns.
Although now aliens have landed here
That I know about
There is a sizeable population
                Of individual
                Everyday
Someone is fired
From work.
I’m sure of it.
Divorce. Disease. Disasters of all kinds.
I once saw a news report of a couple of
                Dudes
Who had survived several hours
                Buried underneathan avalance.
I’ve met too many girls
                Who have been sexually assaulted.
I’ve met a couple of people who have been kidnapped.
Both the victim and the offender have their story to tell.
                For a couple of years
I worked in a halfway house.
So I know that people commit crimes
And end up in prison around these parts.
                I’m sure they all had all the crimes
Plotted out.
They’d probably watched too many
Movies too.
                And the crime was a “sure-thing.”
Some of them were successful criminals for awhile.
                Drug dealers mostly
Although most drug dealers don’t make the kind of money
They’d like for you to believe.
                Most were petty criminals.
Small crimes.
       Every day
someone at school gets bullied.
One time
    a couple of boys shot up a school. 
       Killed some of their classmates.

Things like that happen around
          here.

                Nothing to make a movie about.



Tuesday, January 10, 2012

The damned professor

the damned professor
convincing himself he's smart
He won't stop talking.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Big Pussy-- Or how Carl Sagan gave 9-year-old me a nervous breakdown

For as long as I can remember
I've been a big pussy.
I'm afraid of everything.
Anything
really.
If you think long and hard about
all the things that are just sitting back, stalking, chilling in the shadows
waiting
for the proper time to jump out of the ether and kill you,
you'd come up with a long list.

Just off the top of my head--
A random meteorite blazing through the universe
zoning in my my house and
bedroom and
head.
Deer and elk
that materialize out of thin air in front of my
car as I drive 80 miles/hour on the way home at 10 at night. Serial killers.
Bank robbers in a high
speed pursuit
with the police, headed for my intersection
as I head to work in the
morning. Dumb drivers. Distracted drivers.
Drunk drivers. Drivers texting on their cell-phones.
Stoned drivers. Suicidal drivers.
The roads are dangerous, my friend.
Black ice. Slushy roads. Etc.
Ebola. Swine flu. Avian flu.
Tuberculosis.
Cancer of any and all parts of
my body.
A tough piece of meat with its eyes on my esophogus.
Second-hand smoke.
Terrorists... both those at home and abroad.
Like gangstas doing a drive-by.
Or militant white supremacists survivalists.
Both are enamored with fully automatic assault rifles
with hollow tips
or white phosphorous tips
that explode on impact.
Those kinds of tools get
the job done.
I know this because they take topless pictures of themselves
with their assault rifles
and high-powered explosives and post
those pictures on facebook.
Tainted meet.
Undercooked chicken.
Tasty restaurants
that don't run a tight ship in the kitchen
and all kinds of germs and bacteria get in the tasty
food
and poison me.
Bastards.
Random acts of violence
on the streets of Denver. Stick up kids.
Gas leaks. Carbon monoxide
which I've been told
has no taste or smell. Have fun sleeping tonight.
Which I've read can also kill you.
Ask Wes Craven.
Wild bears and cougars
looking for food while I camp.
Superviruses.
Flesh-eating viruses.
Dehydration. Unforeseen allergic reactions.
Airplanes.
Earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes. tsunamis.
A big fucking rock I might be
climbing
as my ropes fail for whatever random act of the Universe. Lightning.
Brain parasites.
Drains in pools with no protective covering can
suck your guts out. Literally.
Let's go swimming
with
Sharks and evil jelly fish.
Electricity. Stray dogs.
I'm terrified of dogs. And they can
smell it.
My water heater can explode at any minute
if I don't keep an eye on it.
It's
true
I saw it on TV.
Stray bullets
that weren't meant for me.
Bridges collapse more often than I feel comfortable with.
Aliens.
Aliens?

I used to think aliens wanted to kill me.
I was about, oh...say 9 years old.
I was reading an article in Parade Magazine
written by
one, Carl Sagan. He was a skeptic,
but I didn't know it at the time
and I didn't learn it either, because
I never made it past the first paragraph of that article,
which described
Little grey men with heads
twice the size of their bodies.
Eyes the size of compact disks, the color
of DEATH.
Arms and legs skinny
as newborn
babes.
Emotionless
they mill around the foot of your
bed.
Diabolical detail.
What a way to wake up.
Thanks for nothing
Carl Sagan.
Actually,
thanks for the nervous breakdown that ensued.
Chaos. Bedlam in the mind.
Tears enough to give
myself a bath.
Not even mother can save me.
I'm doomed.
Three hours later
I lay in bed with my parents.
Shivering with fear.
Awake with the thoughts
 of maniacal midgets from mars
intent on taking me away from my home
and slaughtering me for kicks (or science)
halfway home.
The random and totally expected
creaks and shudders of the home
let me know
THEY were here for me
now.
Nearly 20 years later
they still haven't come.
But I still haven't kicked those images.
A total pussy.

And I haven't even gone into
what happened
after I watched
Fire in the Sky.
But who would
want to read
about

That?