Just ask any
pirate,
mash-up remixer,
graffiti artist
or other culture-jammer
about how hard the Lawyerly Inquisition can come down on you if you transgress that taboo!
9/16/10
Thou Shalt Not Infringe (In DMCA We Trust)
Copyright infringement is the new heresy of The Corporate Church of Intellectual Property & Trademark tm.
Just ask any
pirate,
mash-up remixer,
graffiti artist
or other culture-jammer
about how hard the Lawyerly Inquisition can come down on you if you transgress that taboo!
Just ask any
pirate,
mash-up remixer,
graffiti artist
or other culture-jammer
about how hard the Lawyerly Inquisition can come down on you if you transgress that taboo!
9/9/10
NONFICTION ARTICLE : 250-500 WORDS
"how to extract a fishlamp from your hideous relics"
ingredients needed
-----------------------
* 23 jester magnets
* 9 oz of sarcataclysm
* a jigger of formaldehyde
* 7 large eggs (biped)
* an invisible banana
(ask your parents to help if you're not sure
if you should be running w/scissors or not!)
at noon you will feel
a vague swelling,
ready all the catnip then
roast it
on irregular-low till
it stops whinnying
blot the remaining
syntax with cheesecloth
or
a frisbee
if both tails have cracked
down the middle, rotate your
jaundice & pray
for rain
make sure to save
the sweat of your
brow,
it can be used
later
to douse the fires
of your passion
mix well using
your grandmother's thigh
bone
& a
bottle
found
hidden
under a
bridge
if your name turns
yellow, pop it
open & remove the crust
(otherwise, thursday)
garnish with kudzu
extravagance & serve
serveserveserveserve
9/8/10
it's not the things
it's not
the things you
said
that
broke me,
{avert
your I's}
it was
more things
you
didn't stay.
willing or
not
we're
prey:
hurray!
amble &
gamble oh
you
paper nap
kin!
punctuate
trivial dreck.
should
we stop
writing these
secrets
?
are we
speaker
giving away wires
too much & causing
lightning
by it?
bleak
hive mechanics
herd
harmony halos
a meek
module consciousness.
the
science of
ruin trumping the
meat
cakes of dawn
with simile damage &
diuretic deconstruction.
an
alley thin
shadow simian
blends doorways
at
13
o'
clock
9/2/10
who-what-when-where-why ...and tipsy widows
Dear Theoretical Readers (or spambots):
My name is Brian Dale & I live in Athens, TN -
which is better than living nowhere,
but only just barely.
I have been recently published
in the whirling eddies of 3 streams,
the whispers of your mother's gynecologist
&
on the back of the last pack of gum
you left to melt in the car's back window.
Otherwise, I am saving himself for
some nifty tornado
or
a biped with more words than legs.
I'm not really sorry,
but I'll make you a sandwich if you're hungry.
Be glad you're not him, because I am (usually).
My name is Brian Dale & I live in Athens, TN -
which is better than living nowhere,
but only just barely.
I have been recently published
in the whirling eddies of 3 streams,
the whispers of your mother's gynecologist
&
on the back of the last pack of gum
you left to melt in the car's back window.
Otherwise, I am saving himself for
some nifty tornado
or
a biped with more words than legs.
I'm not really sorry,
but I'll make you a sandwich if you're hungry.
Be glad you're not him, because I am (usually).
9/1/10
out by your quiet [poem, 09.01.10]
out by
your quiet
pool, a darkly
eyeing
shine told
me to
avoid
evaporation.
its watch
bled
1:23 & laughed,
but through
the
swagger i
thought
i detected a
glint &
asked again
seeking
sureness
- ignore that
splash it's
just the
cricket
pastors
preaching insect
hymnals with
broad mantis
glee &
fine
stitchery
still,
it reminded
again
me:
avoid
evaporation
8/12/10
On Starting to Start
It's not that we don't know what to write, it's that we don't know where to start.
It's as if the bewilderment of choice overwhelms the decision-making circuits somehow. The raucous din of 1001 ideas and desires and fears, all clamoring for expression now Now NOW! A man with 2 watches never knows what time it is and frequently misses the train.
But all that racket and hooplah just won't do. To write effectively, we have to drill down into the very word and phrase of it, take the idea's wings and polish them to shine, then fly it seductively into the gaze of their mind's eye to grab their attention.
The dance of meaning must be precise and properly dramatic, or one of the other thousand nearby explosions of sensory input will drown our words in the numb disregard of distraction.
The glint and glare of unwritten ideas can wreak havoc with our ability to begin, continue and finish with any semblence of sanity afterwards.
We're like sugar-high children at a carnival of possibilities. All the noise and magic and sawdust frenzy of the whole thing makes it hard to slow down enough to do anything except marvel, and want to do everything at once because it's all so amazingly alluring.
If only doing everything didn't mean nothing would really get done.
The other side of the same can't-decide is the slothful difficulty of actually FINISHING something and giving it final public birth. It's so easy and alluring to let it loll around unformed and unedited, always just about to be The Perfect Idea, The Perfect Piece. Just about....almost. Almost never happens.
Unfortunately, creation demands we slay The Possible to birth The Actual.
We have to make explicit, defining choices over and over again till we've soaked it in our intent and our vision. And no one can tell us how to do that but ourselves, because the answer is scribed inside places we can't even see without the creation acting as a bridge into them.
But so much of life is the direct opposite of that, a near-constant stream of discouragement and jockeying for position with little regard for what your say is. A tide of No's and demands that you must adjust to.
Writing is hard because it requires courage enough to simply have an opinion or story. But to take the time to nail that lofty butterfly down and tag it with words so others can enjoy it is even more difficult.
The butterfly would rather flit free afield, far from the semantic eyes of the reader. And it's easy to get entranced simply watching it fly around.
However, the net won this battle. Next time it may go to the butterfly.
Remember: you can't catch if you don't chase.
Start!
It's as if the bewilderment of choice overwhelms the decision-making circuits somehow. The raucous din of 1001 ideas and desires and fears, all clamoring for expression now Now NOW! A man with 2 watches never knows what time it is and frequently misses the train.
But all that racket and hooplah just won't do. To write effectively, we have to drill down into the very word and phrase of it, take the idea's wings and polish them to shine, then fly it seductively into the gaze of their mind's eye to grab their attention.
The dance of meaning must be precise and properly dramatic, or one of the other thousand nearby explosions of sensory input will drown our words in the numb disregard of distraction.
The glint and glare of unwritten ideas can wreak havoc with our ability to begin, continue and finish with any semblence of sanity afterwards.
We're like sugar-high children at a carnival of possibilities. All the noise and magic and sawdust frenzy of the whole thing makes it hard to slow down enough to do anything except marvel, and want to do everything at once because it's all so amazingly alluring.
If only doing everything didn't mean nothing would really get done.
The other side of the same can't-decide is the slothful difficulty of actually FINISHING something and giving it final public birth. It's so easy and alluring to let it loll around unformed and unedited, always just about to be The Perfect Idea, The Perfect Piece. Just about....almost. Almost never happens.
Unfortunately, creation demands we slay The Possible to birth The Actual.
We have to make explicit, defining choices over and over again till we've soaked it in our intent and our vision. And no one can tell us how to do that but ourselves, because the answer is scribed inside places we can't even see without the creation acting as a bridge into them.
But so much of life is the direct opposite of that, a near-constant stream of discouragement and jockeying for position with little regard for what your say is. A tide of No's and demands that you must adjust to.
Writing is hard because it requires courage enough to simply have an opinion or story. But to take the time to nail that lofty butterfly down and tag it with words so others can enjoy it is even more difficult.
The butterfly would rather flit free afield, far from the semantic eyes of the reader. And it's easy to get entranced simply watching it fly around.
However, the net won this battle. Next time it may go to the butterfly.
Remember: you can't catch if you don't chase.
Start!
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