SAINT OF PERPETUAL SORROW*

Call me a spent orange in the dirt, a primer-gray birdhouse in the tree

or a new world thesaurus but not over the telephone.
Call me a nearly empty water glass, a ceramic kitten toppled on the sill
or call me a sad and broken man but do not call tonight.
Call me a celebration of new democracy, a vest of explosives beside you
or the state of the union address, marked return to sender.
Call me an unfinished word puzzle, a dull pencil or doldrums
but do not call to lure me from the tar.
Call me a despot having gone too fast, a sickly poinsettia in the sink
or a failed plan for two but no, not etc.
Call me a conduit for perpetual sorrow, an ill mannered house finch
or pruned rosebushes but not in the receiver again.
Call me an empirical fault, call me tomorrow or don’t bother using
words at all but do not from the other end just breathe.

*the title was taken from Gina Myers' poem "House"

Sunday, January 30, 2005

There is some severe sensory deprivation going on here. There are the weather, the landscape, the slow pace and then there is the complete lack of the sort of culture/civility I'm used to. I have never heard so may remarks about "gays" in my life--except when I was growing up in San Diego. Everyone seems repulsed when I mention moving to the Hillcrest neighborhood, because that's SanDiego's "gay" neighborhood. However, it's also where all the culture is. I've never seen so many drab, lifeless, landscape paintings in my life either. These are strange times indeed.

Over and out.

Saturday, January 29, 2005

I just returned from a charitable dinner and auction, where I was one of maybe 4 people under the age of 60. I'm not too big on prime rib so I stuck with the over-buttered asparagus, hyperbolically gravy'd turkey and rice pilaf. What the hell is rice pilaf anyway? Rice, Orzo, and parsley flakes, no? I'm changing my name to Edith Pilaf, forthwith.

xo,
Edith Pilaf.

Monday, November 22, 2004

In preparation for our drive to Long Beach tomorrow and in acquiescence to Brighton's expressed "need" of a personal music device (discman, thank god he's not asking for an iPod), I purchased the SpongeBob SquarePants Movie Soundtrack for him to listen to on my discman in the car. Brighton is almost 6 and somehow he's already one of the most sophisticated indie rockers I know. "Hey Dad, put on some rock 'n' roll." "Who do you want to hear?" "ummm...Modest Mouse (I only let him hear the clean songs) or D.C. For Cutie (I leave out the "Death Cab" part)." He wants to have a band when he's grown up, like 7.

Saturday, November 06, 2004

So now that I've gotten DSL again, found the sunshine amidst the most depressing wednesday and days following, and decided to forego giving up on this here blog, I might as well write something. I just moved back into San Francisco (YaY!) but in order to do so, must find a new home for my cats Palace & Radio aka The Brutal Kittens (Boo.) I've had three good prospects for taking them but each one backed out last minute. Any of you in the Bay Area want two awesome cats? Boo.

On another note, I'm reading this thursday with Joseph Lease in the innaugural reading of the Ecstatic Monkey Reading Series.

That's Thursday, Nov. 11th @ 7:30pm. StartSoma 672 South Van Ness at 18 th in San Francisco. $5-$10sliding scale suggested donation plus free alcoholic beverages such as wine and beer and a DJ spinning your favorite indie/new wave/electro so you can dance.

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

Once again, I find myself searching for a place to live. My heart's in San Francisco but my person is in Oakland...I'm hoping to go where the heart is.