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Donald at 43 + Other Hits
They gave Donald Duck a hearing aid.
The Deaf foundations didn’t blink on the news.
America turned 43 again.
Let me help you fit into that prairie slut costume.
It’s for fun, and I’m not a perfect man,
and I’m not a Unitarian Floozy, and I’m not the time-machine closet re-visitor, but I admire her work.
I performed karate on the beach in the future.
There is a three year old playing along with me, and we get a standing O.
Real intuitive/Good sand skills—that kid, half Venezuelan.
Something about falling asleep in the back seat, a family vacation.
Why wasn’t Donald on Main Street that last day?
Fucking head scratcher—honestly, it is.
The summer home with the other duck?
The poetry strike continued into the fall.
The state conceded the state of emergency plan to business groups.
They failed, but did well.
The strike was palpable in the deindustrialized towns.
Norwegians and new-rich kids from New Asia
Stopped visiting, and ‘checking in.’
Magnets were not sold.
Feelings got stuck in molars.
Chewy winter for the erasure pollinators.
Almost a Year Later
Many things were kept hidden from us. Many outside people were employed by the network to secure the right relationships. Gaggles of lawyers were put on retainer. Ever increasing secrecy is symptomatic of a dying, rotting thing— trying to flex its corroding muscles, hoping the bogeymen they resurrect might become real for an instant, to better serve the peddled fear, to come alive for an instant to perversely take a peak of the scantily clad muscle flexing thing—now out of its sick-raunchy mind in the a-echoic chamber of its own poison
Enjoy: Your comments, and your spreading the Hard Root Beer Gospel—-is appreciated
Tom and I have a new short film in the works. It will involve a Kleptocratic Governor, a plutocratic ‘backer’— “Duckbutter,’—- a Latina-Hippie Mannequin (who the Gov chooses to become his lieutenant Gov)—-and a few other more lovable characters than you can squeeze a toy duck at!
The film will be called ‘Manuela for Lieutenant Governor’
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U C B ELSEWORE
For six natty months The Undulations had done nothing but win
a cross between Chess and Field Hockey
that was the brief and lazy description of Quannty-Maybe from anyone you asked on Earth
but why use a pool stick cue cube to make your coach look lookproof?
Wall flower physics and a loud calculation of joke vibration wave differences
a game that only drew live spectators that wouldn’t look at each other
China would not allow any discussion of it
It was reactionary and over-revolutionary
It wasn’t a game
it was a broken condom of a facetious conceit
but no one agreed with KK Besterson looking raffish in a phone booth for god guards
——-only the ‘C’ channel allowed broadcasts of it
but no one in ‘The States’ believed the C channel ever came back from the dead
its logo panhandling for a new shape
in a desiccated limbo perpetual elsewhere
gasping on a cigarette by a simulated horse shoe nailed to an arrogant looking silo
many programmed their remotes to step over the channel
as gluttons of themselves high on distraction and new luck
step over the constant shadow of their deaths
as if it were a nuisance in the form of a beggar
that would not be allowed to break into weak, but joyful song for daily bread
while we were rushing to get home to stare into a non-nutritious nothing
Gorilla color-man and radio wave rebel bender
explained it all in his inimitable way that was not easy to understand however fun
but we were emergency radios to each other by then darling
interred shallowly, but always ‘locatable’
unable to bend our antennas much
Backup power lovers that humped a dry pantomime
Right Hand Turn Makers that would only reproduce with ‘their kind.’
Battery mistress as dumb as an Attic Ghost that feeds on sample photographs stuck in cheap frames
What the hell was the game?
Impatience getting the best
of a chain-smoking grandfather that was once just a stock photo grandfather
his stock photo parents dressed him as an urban chess-board thief
from the 90’s of one or two centuries
camouflage forced on his body
to blend in with bohemian harp players
and conceptual Polish remixers of fantasy snow short stories of remembrance
how he hated even blending in to steal these boards
but things change, and he’s with The Undulations now
back up farce field installer
but under contract nonetheless
he does something with the enemy’s light
if Elsewore is to be believed
The Whispering Olympians performed on July 5th at ‘The People’s Garden’ in Bushwick, Brooklyn. The surroundings were a shady, peaceful city neighborhood park, free of commerce, open to the many families that came to hang out in the shade. We played our 2nd live set to date, and it featured 95% new material, material that should make it to a full length LP, that hopefully will be out in early 2015. We thank Dog Adrift, and The People’s Garden, as well as the many fine friends and fans that came to show.
T Sling Con Tra
All of the above photos were taken by one of the actors in our film—-Allison Lucas, who is an outstanding photographer, and took a few shots of some of the action on the Solstice Screening Party for Tom & Dom’s Hard Root Beer.
A warm and not so loud (too hung-over!) thanks to everyone who came out to see our film last night. We missed a few people, such as our talented friend and editor Eric Sazer, and others besides…but what a party we had in Bushwick last night!
The screening of a film my friend Tom Taggs and I made, edited by the great Nut Bird or Greene County, was such a successful, and warm gathering of great people. It was the summer solstice, and we got carried off into our drinks of blood-orange soda and Kettle 1. I felt like a piece of broken-sky, pleasantly lost in a fuzzy bird-song hang-over with strange giddy energy still traveling in me. There was so much inspiring energy from all of our guests last night!
Paul Falzone’s home in Bushwick served as the perfect gathering spot for the screening of ‘Tom & Dom’s Hard Rootbeer.’ The film was made for the mere joy of two friends wanting to share their strong similar sense of humor with others through a patchwork of non-scripted scenes, often using strangers we met on the street to act in it.
Tom and I were so pleasantly surprised to hear people wax euphoric over some of the scenes, pushing us to make another film, and get this one ‘out’ there. But, that was never the point. I hope to have a link for the film, as well as pictures of the many of the cool people that made the night a beautiful 1st summer one—up soon. Hey, if anything else, where else could you have been in the world where you could enjoy a film about a stolen fictional hard-root-beer formula and the efforts to track it down, as well as listening in on a comedy set by an amateur, and true NY character—-cool Argentinian dude named Americo, riffing on St. Johns Wart, licorice water, and cracking laughs out of the dry nuts of root-beer history, and related factoids?
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