coming this fall

"Does that sound like anyone we know?"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QQ-YzhaTjuw

this website is where you will find the trailer for the upcoming life-changing film In Spring.... It was created by my frenzied friend Micah Bennker and, just like countless gnarly crack whores in the southern Wisconsin area, I had a little part in it. Take a look. It is funny!!!

the letters i know of

a is for ambling like Avery when he gets done gambling
b is for broaching like Bee when she tires of bad coaching
c is for camouflaging like Carl when he wants to hide his montaging
d is for burrying like when Daryl wants to see what soil tastes like
e is for forwardness like when Bee has to grant a pardon
f is for frankness like when Frank goes to Loch Ness
g is for believability like when Loch Ness poses for a pictoral
h is for haughty like Harry after half-time
i is for plagorism like when Parker says its for Indian Ink
j is for jay like the thing that Screamin Jay Hawkins smoked
k is for Karl like Carl's alias
m is for malicousnessacity like Bee when she teases Cassidy
n is for ambling Avery when he boils yams to make yambling
o is for operating like Daryl when he's under the influence and dating
p is for performance like every second of your daily dance
q is quietude for living in a world subdued
r is for righteousness like when Alanis corrects a guess
s is for sanguinity like when Gretchen pulls a shitty
t is for obvious like when Uncle Tommy endangers us
u is for under like approaching the precipice of plunder
v is very like very very Tom and Jerry
w is forever like wild Mathis up from Denver
x is for z, please let it be me
y is for yours and when Frank rambles, he pours
z is for you, you shaking statue, glittering glaring, forever fortuned, bested and buttered, soulless, thankless, wrist and ankle-less, mapley mothering, partially perforated, tenuously tolerated, nappingly inaugurated, indian ink indoctrinated, just and just now, new and never more than momentary, wary and wonderful, scary and under fall you

P-A-R-T-why?

because it's about damn time
WORLD WIDE DIRT is having a party on OCTOBER 4TH
release of "Bad Like A Cracken" magazine and celebrating the soon release of sean's fucking novel The House of Will
mark your calendar, the two people who read this blog who are sean and myself
there will be drink and dreams and finger food and the witches of whitewater
and the mitches (mitch orsburn has not RSVP'd yet) of whitewater and if you avoid my poison oak garden, then no itches of whitewater
and of course, special guests Michael Emerson of Lost fame and his lovely wife Janine Duguddery Phillips Emerson Esquire!:


and also the cool crooning styles of Sir Jim Winship, tripping the lights fantastic down the corner of easy street and kickass motherfucker lane.
all nonsensical ramblings aside, this will be a pretty good PARTY probably and it will occur on the 4TH OF OCTOBER and all proceeds will go to the Make A Wish Foundation (that was supposed to be the end of the post, but then i remember i actually met a dude who was a sick kid who made a wish to the Make A Wish Foundation and he asked for a trip to europe and they gave him a laptop computer. thought that was a funny anecdote. and totally true. he got better, but he smokes like a chimney now. come to the party....)

the long distance call

the flower winding over the stone edge
and sitting in the sun for a while, bored and baked and contented
kristin filling rhubarb into the crossword
meeting bollywood, carlton banks, and riotous
that balding bastard feeling life for a second
bad poetry is of the essence
nipping one of your cigarettes - a manchester lady in fishnets
no, but you can have a drag
after which it will be properly singed and sanitized
letting happiness find your vibrating head against a coach window
and letting it drift when it wears out it's welcome
letting yourself believe she's yours for a second
like you used to pretend you were aquaman and could breath underwater
not expressing emotions, but the beatles make you cry
do they? they make dolphins laugh and baby leopards bashful
and real beetles survive the final blast, according to the proper authorities
who finished school without a sweat and are sleeping under air-conditioned halos
and have interesting gigs like deciding what species are likely to outlive our own
bad poetry isn't good just because it acknowledges it's poorness
the president still probably has to jerk it occasionally,
on long trips to venezuela or the newly eu-embraced lithuania
and what does he think about after,
with the light glistening off of perfect white fixtures
sounds awful awful awful
not enough words to describe the awfulness of this poem,
and life imitates art, even bad art, which makes for awful life,
gone stale like j.j. cale*



*look him up if you don't know him, because he was pretty good
see also karen dalton
see also sick boy's unifying theory of life

Whats the difference between a Harley and A Hoover?

fuck milwaukee transit.

cheers to Harleys.

cheers to Harley Riders.

Fuck Harley fest.

I had to walk downtown to catch a bus yesterday. in pinstripes and wing tips. jesus.

the number for Milwaukee transit is some bullshit voicemail. next time your at the bus stop check it out. Or if you have a car be glad you don't ride the bus. either way.

October 4th is the WWD kickoff show. in Whitewater. At the Armory.

it' the position of the dirtbag, by the way.

land's end

not just the name on the tags of your comfy khakis or your flannel insulated raincoat. it is a place, and more importantly, a state of mind. it is hazy and covered in cornish ruins before they packed up and dug into wisconsin like badgers and gave us their pies. it looks a little like middle earth. there is a stillwater pond on a beach there that is one of the most perfect places i've ever seen.
there is a cider that comes in three litre bottles goes for three pounds, nineteen. it is clear and bold and made with both sugars and sweeteners. it has an alcohol content of 7.5% and it is known as White Strike.
michael's mount is a - what do you call it - it's an island at high tide, but at low tide it's just a part of the beach. it looks like xanadu and the national trust charges six pounds for entry even after you spent half the day walking there, so fuck that noise jack. we go play bumper cars on the mainland and there is an evil girl in there who won't stop coming after us. they call me hal, they call me stacey.
some kid in killarney asked connor for a fag and he was like eleven so connor refused and the kid said, a bright orange balloon in his hand, "you come into our country, our town and you won't even give us a fag," and when connor told him to bugger off, the kid says, "what? i'll take your face off, you stupid motherfucker."
knew a peace i hadn't experienced in a long time after sleeping on a bus from liverpool to glasgow, having slept the night before in a train station in a town called Crewe that was either in England or Wales, taking turns sleeping with connor so we didn't miss our next train, get into glasgow at six in the morning, a cool comes over me as we walk down deserted streets and there is purple smoke coming out of a stack on hope street (not just pretty words). we would gladly consume those who wish to subdue us (not just pretty words). the bus driver called me curly.
i fought a princess who was beautiful and possessed by a demon in edinburgh (actually happened), i watched trainspotting in wales with the nicest people in the uk, i saw the childhood home of ringo star, i went to a beach party that seemed pulled from my dreams after i walked out of a movie theater in london and watched it get washed away by the tide, i got black out drunk on a ghost tour in scotland and shook my head in my own kind of approval when the redheaded tour guide said i had indeed seen spirits on the tour.
had a dream last night about a skinny, vampire-like blonde who refused me four topper's cheesesticks. fuck it all, i'm going outside.

that's a bunch of killarney

i just did a loop around myself and now i'm dizzy.
home seems like a thousand years away. i'm not sure i'm going to make it.
people are nice. all of my favorite ones are american.
irish people are so nice they make me sick.
i got moved from one bed to another in the middle of the night in my hostel and didn't know where i was and that i was alone here.
i'm going to give you a big hug when i see you whether you like it or not.
i can't think of any antidote for poison beside more poison.
you people better like your souvenirs because it gave me a headache buying them.
sometimes you tell the day by the bottle that you drink, sometimes when you're alone, all you do is think - bon jovi is a hack, but i saw an action figure of him in london
i really do have love to give, i just don't know where to put it - Quiz Kid Donnie Smith (Present Day)
i've erased more poetry than you'll ever write
i've forgot more than you'll ever forget.