oh 2008. look at your pretty new ideas. what have you done? the Monarchs are migrating. the honeybees are disappearing. future hurricanes are brewing from my morning sigh of relief. my obsession with fractals during 12th grade calculus class is finally coming in handy. what have we planted? what are we planting?

HAPPY F***ING HOLIDAYS CULT MEMBERS!

i’m feeling shiny, and a bit smashed, and i don’t mind saying that, not one bit. just took a little 2 mile hike through the El Dorado nature reserve, and it was an indecent, salacious 60 degrees. the sun was glowing and showing off, and as we meandered around the path, it dappled through the oaks and maples, making the air blush yellow or red through the leaves. i dashed through piles of rotting leaves like a dead reanimated tap dancer (read: not graceful), chased squirrels and gave them names like “captain bush-league” and “lieutenant fluster buns,” fell butt-first on cushions of pine needles begging to be lit. i think this means i am officially a bleeding heart turtle humping hippie. (more…)

No seriously.  There’s a study to prove it: CNN Report On Fellatio Study.  Which is the funniest thing i’ve read in a long long time. My favorite quote from the article has to be:

“Only with regular occurrence will your chances be reduced, so I encourage all women out there to make fellatio an important part of their daily routine,” said Dr. Helena Shifteer, one of the researchers at the University. “Since the emergence of the research, I try to fellate at least once every other night to reduce my chances.”

Based on this report, I think all women should use their natural fear of breast-cancer as a motivation to suck cock and swallow.  To those women out there who not only loathe giving blow jobs—because it makes them gag or feel violated or is an act of forced submission—but also hate swallowing cum, because of how it tastes or what it represents, well NO PRESSURE.  The article also admits, quietly, at the end of paragraph three, that, “There was no increased risk…for those who did not regularly perform.”   I mean, we’re just saying giving regular blow jobs and swallowing semen might save your life, or prevent your breasts from having to be surgically removed or the horrific experience of radiation and chemotherapy.  But seriously, no pressure.

If I had the last name “Shifteer” I think I would definitely also be a scientist bent on changing common sense, heart-centered approaches to gendered-sex-relations with my bullshit studies.

But what am I waiting for?  I am going to get right to work on my own study that proves that eating pussy decreases the risk of heart attacks.  Or that not pressuring women for blow jobs decreases the risk for colon cancer.

dear cult members and part-time enthusiasts: i will be out and about performing three times in December:

Factory Readings At The Gypsy Den: Tuesday, December 2nd at 8pm
Sunset Symposium Poetry Series: Sunday, December 7th at 4pm
{open} Fifth Anniversary Party: Saturday, December 13th from noon till midnight

Details and flyers after the cut. Also of interest to people who live in LA-ish. Did you know you can go ice-skating in Santa Monica from November 7th to January 19th? ICE-SKATING!!!!! 5th Street and Arizona Avenue, $10. I’m just saying… (more…)

dear GirlFest Hawaii,

thank you for giving Amber Tamblyn and i the kick we needed to put on a really great show, possibly our best show. (and also thank you to the guitar and vocal stylings of Bonnie and China Tamblyn.) Oahu, you weren’t bad either.

much love and good luck with the whole kicking violence-against-women’s-ass thing, in a peaceful, non-violent way of course.

toast-always-falling-jam-side-up,
mindy

p.s. if you weren’t there, or were but spent all your funds on drinks, we turned the show into a limited edition chapbook called Crying At The Aquarium, which be available on this website soon….

so many cycles are ending, the sand storm union is protesting its own retirement. don’t try so hard to understand that sentence. just picture yourself being pounded by waves, somewhere on the north shore of Oahu under an 89° sun, mourning the death of a friend that scared you, but that you loved anyway, feeling elated by the warm water pushing you into the shifting earth. it’s like that.

it’s also like the way it suddenly occurs to you, while drinking your morning fire, that every American baby born now will not think it is a big deal that a black man just won the presidency. at least not with a decade or two of hive education and history memorizing, when, against all odds, thanks to a lucky combination of smarts, empathy and books, the story of US reveals itself to them in all its horrifying drama. wow, right?

i am gossamery. it’s a word. and i think it means what i feel. (more…)

what’s that you say? is that my November 4th, 2008 County of Los Angeles General Election official ballot stub nestled amongst crystals and an emerald pirate’s ring in a hand painted box containing a doctored photo of Ronald Reagan in the most fabulous fur coat you’ve ever scene??? why yes, cult members, yes it is.

If, over the course of the next eight days, you find yourself chewing off major sections of your fingers, or sweating heavy artillery, or if your heart starts racing everytime you hear the phrase “you betcha,” please. Stop what you’re doing and watch this:

this is sort of a “how to mellow out during an apocalypse” post. or a “how to mellow out during an apocalypse when Valium and baby kittens are not at your disposal” post. i know i’m preaching to the choir, but the choir knows what i am talking about. chet baker’s horn playing is pretty much a substitute for blood pressure medication. if i were a scientist and not a poet, i would arrange some sort of fancy study to prove that chet knows how to give your privates a gentle massage with his voice and his sweet sweet horn. the study would conclude that 7 out of 10 patients reported feeling woozy and the other three were two busy making out up against walls to respond. instead, i can only offer you this:

My Funny Valentine

thank you to The District for including me in their BEST OF Long Beach issue under the title “Best Wordsmith.” (i feel a new coffee cup trophy coming on…) read the ridiculously nice paragraph about me here, in which i am compared to both a truck driver and cursive letters: thedistrictweekly.com (scroll down. i am between “Best Overlooked Museum” and “Best Happening.”) (p.s. Jenny, you owe me the chance to buy you a drink! cash it in!)