Yay! I'm home. Sitting at the computer, it's time for the cat to stick her paw in between the armrest and claw me to get my attention....so I rub her head vigorously to show my attention.

"Mow Mow Mow Wowm!"

[rub head as she meows]

"Mow-ow-wow-wow-wow-weh-weh weh!" as I wag her head

"all right, will that do you for a while?"

"...........mehr."

Today, or rather, since I've been in D-land, I've become more and more aware of just how under read I am. I like to read but it occurred to me that what I read consists mainly of Newsweek, (sparse at most), the back of the shampoo bottle and the directions for microwave macaroni and cheese.

[Gently pierce plastic cover with ball point pen, or whatever is handy. Place in microwave. Set to high for 1 minute. Carefully peel back plastic. Steam clean face.]

So in order to remedy the situation I stopped at Barnes and Noble.

I decided to try some poetry and looked for E.E. Cummings. I tried him first because, well why not? When I was in Vegas we were doing some souvenir shopping and found a store full of weird stuff. What caught my eye was a one foot tall wooden doll with five hundred necklaces hanging off the neck that totally hogged my attention and had me coming back over and over to stare at it. The owner was a swishy, smarmy king of guy who noticed me eyeing it and came over to tell me it was a fetish doll. I think that's what he called it.

Suspended from all the leather necklaces were "found art objects" from anyone's average junk drawer.

Tarnished silver spoons, dice, sections of brass tube, a thermometer, an old fashioned fountain pen, sections of a small tree cut horizontally in beaded chunks, a small wooden box of matches, crystal chandelier fragments. Tons of cool junk.

What I remember most was a piece of bamboo cut in half vertically, and neatly handwritten in ink was a single line from Cummings. I remember that at the time I thought the quote was rather profound, but have since forgotten it totally. I wanted to buy t, but unfortuneately didn't have 1200 dollars on me that day. I bought the book so I could try and find that line again and maybe learn something new.

Of course getting home I crack it open right to his cubist pages.

sh estiffl

ystrut sal

lif san

dbut sth

spouting(gWh.ono:w

s li psh ergo

wnd ow n,

r

EVE

aling 2 a

-sprout eyelands)sin

uoisly&them&twi

ching,begins

unununun?

butbutbut??

tonton??

ing????

My brain may seriously be contorted and wadded into an origami Brooklyn bridge by the time I'm done, but I will attempt to read this. All the way through.

While I'm looking around I hear...off in the distance..... the faint sweet summoning of a child to his mother.

"BLAR BLAR BLAR BLAR BLAR BLAR BLAR BLAR BLAR!!!!!!"

"BLEEEEEEEEEEERR!

"David, we use our indoor voice in the bookstore."

"MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM!"

"Yes David?"

"Blip bloop HABLABIDY HIBBIDY...!"

Yes, I want to have children.

I'd also like to have my tongue stapled to a wall.

I also bought "How to Seduce Pleasure and Titillate in classic Latin" (which I just dropped on the cats head while reaching for it .. fucking meow!)

TEMPTA HAS OSTREAS MANIBUS COLLECTAS. ITA FACILE LANGUESCES

" try some of these hand-dived oysters. They'll help you unwind."

ERGO APUD ME?

"My place then?

ITA VERO MEA PALAESTRA PRIVATA EST

"Yes, that's my private gym."

SCIS TE ID MAXIME VELLE

" You know you want to."

but more likey to use....

TE ORO?

"Please?"

also.....

POETA PUERILIS PETIT MUSAM SENIOREM QUAE ANIMAM VIOLET, HENDECASYLLABOS INFLET, STYGIO FATO EUM ERIPIA. SUA BASIS NECESSARIA EST

" Boyish poet seeks older Muse to ravish his soul, pump up his hendecasyllables ad save him from stygian gloom. Must have own pedestal."

On second thought, this book is kind of creepy.....moving along.....

I lastly bought two books by David Sedaris. "Holidays on Ice" and "Me talk Pretty One Day"

These look promising. Fer shure.

One thing about D-land is that I get exposed to more and more music I had wanted to try and get enticed into buying now. So I bought a Modest Mouse CD.

I like it.

So now comes the "You Poor Damn Bastard" part of this entry.

Standing in the essay section of the store, I'm thumbing through "Me Talk Pretty One day" when the reference guy brings a cute girl RIGHT NEXT TO ME.

I'm standing there all cool and suave, reading my book. Trying to think of something to cool and semi-literate to say.

"So what are you looking for today?"

no no

"Hey, that shakespeare was a pretty good writer huh?"

FUCK no...

DIC MIHI QUID VELIS, QUID VERE, VERE, VELIS

" Tell me what you want, what you really, really, want."

eh...no

"Hey ....."

About the time I was thinking this last one I decided to put my foot up on the footstool that was off to my peripheral right.

....not a footstool.

Who the FUCK, leaves a brown trash can with two inches of water and gum wrappers in the middle of the isle of a book store?!

So.

After stumbling like a wounded Gnu and kicking the trash can 6 yards for the extra point while trying to stay vertical ...... I squish my way over to the "YOU ARE A HOPELESS NERD" section of the bookstore.

yay me...I rock.

I'm bad. I'm bad... I'm so bad, I should be in detention.

Fuck.

Tomorrow: The explaination of GERG, for all both of you who don't know or haven't asked yet.