2 GIs, 1 British Soldier, 76 Iraqis Killed; 367 Iraqis Wounded

been a while for this one:

no laughing..i’m having a throwback moment of my own.

quite like yes

table of contents:

mangers and mermaids
stretch, fold, tilt
a sun can be cold
proximity
beans by window
brittle towns sleep
one day i could not get out of bed
un(bee)
non o’clock gridlock
mg+, then up
like you mean it
pssg
–death on 48th street
the stamps that self address
junta
trigger
the last time i saw you
all thumbs
the standstill hurry
imaginary numbers
coal barge
eavesdrop the parking lots
since nobody ever told you
(whistle)
lean candy

~section 2: limbs~
bookfriends
wild with end
kidhood (1)
while warming three worlds
how we went (in six)
a night out
kidhood (2)
birds at four a.m.
and her sails

60 pages, final.

just a note…I decided to add on a page for news. News of this, news of that, from all over everywhere.

Tuesday: 1 US Soldier, 54 Iraqis Killed; 129 Iraqis Wounded

Monday: 2 US Contractors, 17 Iraqis Killed; 26 Iraqis Wounded

Sunday: 4 US Soldiers, 91 Iraqis Killed; 152 Wounded

Seven Things You Don’t Need to Know About Me.

(as called out by Jess, so shall it be done)

1. I’ve had a lifelong fascination/adoration/heartache for all things ballet. I am fascinated by the ballerinas that sometimes ride my bus in the mornings. I envy that ability to move, to stretch, to create such beautiful wordless expressions. It started when my stepfather would bring home ballet instructional videos from the library. They would play in the living room and I would jump and spin around as a seven year old, lost in a world only known to me. I cannot attend a dance recital/event without crying, without bringing a hand to my heart while watching. I am intrigued by the way dancers will stand, sit, carry themselves. I grew up playing competitive sports but I’ve always had an incredible soft spot for dance.

2. My grandfather(my father’s father) was a Pentecostal preacher. He built the church with his own two hands. As a very young child, I sat in the front or second row with my father and sister during the sermon. I found the subject of “God” and “fear” to be interchangeable at an early age due to the atmosphere of the church. My grandfather would shout, go red in the face, be all over the stage while older women spoke in tongues. It did not “scare” me at the time, but later on I found myself restless and disinterested in any sort of church service because I was used to religion being something of high energy, something kind of frightening that needed to be scared into me. I am not used to the quiet murmuring of prayer. I am more acquainted with the loud jumble of tongue and testify.

3. In high school I had a bad habit of popping caffeine pills and diet pills daily—twice a day. In the morning, before lunch, sometimes even before track practice. I wanted to exercise all the time. It was a desire and a need that I could not express, could not fight. During class I could not sit still, did not want to sit still. There were Saturdays at home spent doing jumping jacks, sit ups, leg lifts, push ups in the living room while listening to Underworld’s “Born Slippy.” I did all of this in front of a mirror. Dexatrim, No-Doz, Metabolift. I ended up in the hospital with a heart murmur due to a combination of diet pills/migraine medication at the age of seventeen. During the overnight stay a heart doctor lectured me on the dangers of pill-popping. I will never forget how humiliating it was for my father to find blister packs of diet pills in my coat pockets.

4. I smell books when I open them. I love the smell of books. New ones, old ones, ones borrowed from friends. I am also pretty terrible about dogearing pages instead of using a bookmark. It’s more of a reflex than a conscious decision to do so.

5. I can be horribly disorganized, but I am also obsessive compulsive about certain things. I always triple knot the laces on my shoes. I like to color coordinate my clothing. If I am writing something longhand, I will write it out at least three times, in at least three different ways(printing, cursive, cursive with a backslant, cursive with a forward lean, all caps, all lowercase) until it is exactly to my liking and nothing is scratched out. And always in pen. I may write it once in black, once in blue. I don’t do this with everything handwritten, but it is a habit going back to my note-writing days in middle school. I would write 2 to 3 versions of the same note, to get it just right.

6. I have been punched in the face by someone that supposedly loved me.

7. I still like to lay out in the sun. It reminds me of my mom, who would lay out in the sun in a bathing suit for hours—11am-ish to 3pm-ish. She has done this since the age of 11. There is something about the heat, the flesh, the smell of suntan oil and real lemon juice in the hair. Laying out with my mom was a weird way of bonding, but it worked. Despite all the dangers of it, I still get the urge to sprawl on a lawnchair with a radio nearby, and think of those days in the sun with my mother. I miss those strange little things about us from the past. And I miss her more than anything.

 (pic from their site, http://www.myspace.com/vipersoulclub

Tirez Sur Le Painiste by Vipers Soul Club on Saturday, at the Shadow Lounge. What does this mean? This means dancing happened. Shaking tailfeathers to some Otis Redding among others, plus! a round of gospel songs to shimmy to when midnight rolled around(in honor of easter). Bumped some shoulders with my dear friend Julian and dropped a full drink on the dance floor after sucking the life out of the lime that came along with it. Suspenders and a cassette tape necklace. The man Mr. Strong, the one and only! Austin and his lady dancing up an earthquake! Carlos and the Katie! Man, people were getting their boogey on. I felt like quite the VIP grooving right alongside the two best dressed gentlemen in the room. Quite a night.

I’ll definitely check out the Vipers Soul Club again that’s for sure. This Thursday there will be more rugcutting with The Big Throwback. Oh yes. Funk and soul, and cannot wait.

She Said: Women’s Words Featuring Special Guest Naomi Shihab Nye

Join us as we celebrate Women’s History Month with poetry and verse. Self- described as a “wandering poet,” special guest Naomi Shihab Nye has spent 33 years traveling the country and the world to lead writing workshops and inspiring students. Drawing on her Palestinian-American heritage, the cultural diversity of her home in Texas, and her experiences traveling in Asia, Europe, Canada, Mexico, Central and South America and the Middle East, Nye uses her writing to attest to our shared humanity.

Featuring: Jan Beatty, Veronica Corpuz, Vanessa German, Romella D. Kitchens, Kellee Maize, Dawn Lundy Martin and DJ Soy Sos

It’s 305am and I am exhausted and cannot breathe. Busy busy night at the bar tonight–made the most money tonight since I started there. Also inherited a kaleidoscope necklace. So awesome. One of the bands, Wussy, had a little bit of a Concrete Blonde/Patti Smith vibe. At least the lady vocals did. I did some old school dances with a customer after his many Blue Moon rounds, and a woman left me a note on a napkin, written in glittery pink lip gloss: Why Do You Look So Sad? I wish she had stuck around when I found the note–I would have kindly explained that I am so congested that I cannot breathe and being in a smoky bar was the last place I wanted to be at that moment. I guess a bit of that showed on my face. Finding that note kind of made me sad. Even though I could absolutely explain why I wasn’t all smiles all the time tonight. Still, perhaps I should have disguised it a bit more. Or perhaps she misread my look of discomfort/full of snot/cannot stop sneezing state for something of dispair or depression. This time I can say Oh Contrare! to that. For I had a really kick ass day, and a really really good week, and the feeling of contentment extended to slinging beers. It had the stressful moments, but that happens with a packed house.

Flyers are up all over the bar for the April 5th show, and I have a handful in my possession. Feels good to see my name on something again. It’s been way too long to be away from the stage, that’s for sure.

Alright it’s bedtime. Let’s see how much sleep I get without breathing through my nose. ‘Night.

I have a wicked cold(first I typed “wicket cold” which I think is even better) and I am bartending tonight. Nothing like a smoky room to clear those sinuses. Luckily I have some menthol vapor rub and a box of tissues for any mucus on the run. I hope the bands are good tonight.

Something you can do with a cold: go record shopping. I scored a 4 LP Bessie Smith, and a Gene Vincent album. Plus a Billie Holiday album off sweet recommendation. Ran into Buscrates(who is celebrating his birthday tonight at the lounge), and ran into Chris Ivy. The world is buzzing during the day, I see I see. Usually I am at work at this time.

I scored a Celebrate 250! commemorative Pittsburgh pin from a woman on the bus yesterday. I gave my seat to her on the crowded ride home and she took it over her jacket, and gave it to me. How sweet, right? Now it’s on my hoodie.