Hundred and Seventy One 9.29.16
1) Happy Birthday Lou! Remember when we met at Dolores park and had our first friend date at Zeitgeist later. Time is weird and beautiful, so are you!
2) I would recommend listening to this track while reading this nonsense, and try not to add any sense to it, I like it this way. Listen to the whole album, if you liked that track. (You Are All I See – Active Child)
Oh life, oh me! Woke up this morning and for a tiny slice of a second I was like where the hell am I? Foot on the ground, hands on head scratching my half hairy half naked head I looked at my cat, at my windows walled with blackout curtains and I knew it. I like pushing my toes and feet to the hardwood floor while sitting on the edge of my bed right before getting up, it give me the sensation of still being me in my body, it’s a reminder that I am here. I opened the curtains and there I was; in the most beautiful and wet morning. Dark light poured in. Sky was silver gray, leaves were doing their last dance before they get off the stage, and rain was washing my fears away. Rain baby rain… Fall is cutting sky’s stomach open, I thought. Poets are awake and singing, and we have nothing to give and you know how that is, when you have nothing to give you sing.
Oh me, oh life.. I woke up to this morning missing something, someone, sometimes… without knowing what, who and when. That threw me off.. ah the creeping loneliness. Picard The Cat woke up too – now it was’t just me.. it was two of us and I had an urge to just sit on the floor in my underwear, and light a cigarette, drink a pot of coffee and write the day away. Write about missing, fall, rain, and little details i see on the street. I love writing high on coffee, when my head is awake but my eyes are still asleep… And here you are reading that… I washed and examined my face in the mirror, and had my stare competition with Van Gough like many mornings.. we stared and stared I lost as always and he gave me that condescending look as always –whatever dude.. at least I’ve got both of my ears and I am alive, I thought – and he looked at me again.. one more stare, one more breath.. I think I know where I am, but still missing you(?) or that thing(?).. or that one time(?).. oh well.. oh me oh life, the loneliness is gone (Good) and here I am alone (Good) reading Frank O’Hara. It’s good to be me in this gray morning one more thought! Anyway.. here’s the poem that been creeping all around my head all morning!
•
Frank O’Hara
Steps
How funny you are today New York
like Ginger Rogers in Swingtime
and St. Bridget’s steeple leaning a little to the left
here I have just jumped out of a bed full of V-days
(I got tired of D-days) and blue you there still
accepts me foolish and free
all I want is a room up there
and you in it
and even the traffic halt so thick is a way
for people to rub up against each other
and when their surgical appliances lock
they stay together
for the rest of the day (what a day)
I go by to check a slide and I say
that painting’s not so blue
where’s Lana Turner
she’s out eating
and Garbo’s backstage at the Met
everyone’s taking their coat off
so they can show a rib-cage to the rib-watchers
and the park’s full of dancers with their tights and shoes
in little bags
who are often mistaken for worker-outers at the West Side Y
why not
the Pittsburgh Pirates shout because they won
and in a sense we’re all winning
we’re alive
the apartment was vacated by a gay couple
who moved to the country for fun
they moved a day too soon
even the stabbings are helping the population explosion
though in the wrong country
and all those liars have left the UN
the Seagram Building’s no longer rivalled in interest
not that we need liquor (we just like it)
and the little box is out on the sidewalk
next to the delicatessen
so the old man can sit on it and drink beer
and get knocked off it by his wife later in the day
while the sun is still shining
oh god it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much
One Poem At A Time 