So much for Orthodoxy:

And it came to pass that years after the words had stopped being heeded the united council of Rev. Graham and the Isaacs decided on a newer, sleeker, more relevant word, and thus, out of such academic turmoil was born This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things: New Revised Standard Edtition
The Epistles:

1.Taylor
2.Drive
3.In Beth's Cafe
4.Dried Insect, Collected
5.Swim Team
6.Pink Laces and Kierkegaard
8.For Chad and Jason
9.Drinking Age
10.Performance Heartbreak
11.Pack Mentality and Your Tenderloins
12.This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
13.The Future According to Johnny Quest
14.We Are the Weird Cousins
15.Caleb Barber Loses His Teeth to Meth
16.Deliberate
17.Homemade Cape
18.Drag and Save
19.The Day After Thanksgiving
20.Just As Well, She Said
21.Like Taking Communion
22.Somewhere in Colorado

The rest are destined for apocryphal status.

2/22 @ Poetry Night in Bellingham

slightly late gig/reading roundup.
got a ride up with Shane and Becca Guthrie. Shane should have a feature locked down at Poetrynight pretty soon here as his availability was requested by robert.

after some wandering around boulevard park, went to Andrew Cole's for a conversation/interview where I said some things far less articulately than I meant, and will perhaps annoy people, were they to pay attention. Will post a link to that podcast once its' up.
Still. Pretty cool that there is an interview with me on a podcast.
After that met at Rudy's with Tim and Debbie and Josh and Jessa and met their new children. All those being folks I'd not seen since pre-Wales.

then to the reading. particularly strong Open Mic, with appearances by Caleb Barber, Eva Suter, Shane Guthrie, Anna Wolff, Nathan Dodge, Jake Tucker as well as the greats you've come to expect from Poetry Night. I felt good about my feature, doing the first two pieces all off-book and felt the crowd was with me for it.
Setlists:

Podcast:
Little Fear of Drowning
Ambition is Critical

Feature:
Zombies and Paint Thinner
Genus, Species and Flavour
When Saying Mean Things About Strangers
Poor Sisyphus
Rugby '08
Flower Shop
Get Smart!
Flicking Ash
Lake City
Swansea-Cardiff Blues (Bellingham Ed.)

For this feature I made some broadsides of "Saying Mean Things. . ." which sold out in a flash. I think rather than focussing efforts on a New Chapbook, I'll taylor more of my merch-efforts to each specific reading. Eva requested a broadside of "Genus, Species. . ." and I could see doing one of Story Problem or Penderyn Smooth (once I get that one finished.)
Now that that gig is finished and gone well, I feel like I've aired the Wales Poems and can just write and write and write and write and write and need to, really.

It's raining in Vancouver, but I don't give a fuck

Monday night I'm doing my feature at Bellingham's Poetry Night, the reading I cut my semi-adult to adult teeth at. In preparation, in addition to bugging people to re-arrange their entire lives in order to make it to B'ham, I've also made a few broadsides of new poem "When Saying Mean Things About Strangers." Which mayhaps I'll post here at some point. But the point is, I'm using this blog post as a way to put off the hand-drawn illustrations part of the artistic process, because once the ink is on there, its on there.

So. Check out my most recently published piece. . . yes, I think online counts. Especially if it's as clearly-planned-and-cool-looking as KP tends to be.

Also, you can read the blog I write for ZAPP, which currently gets updated as often or more often than this one.

Today: So frustrating. So many "almosts" with regards to chapbook completion, art-making and things getting done. Tonight: more work. forge ahead. listen to Japandroids in an empty house on Warsaw street.

Rainier and Wedding Music (rough.)

It was their first dance and everybody cried. Everyone. Really.
The room was all champaigne and candles and aftershave and
a circle in the middle where one of the handful of couples I’ve
ever seen that no one had reservations about slow-stepped
into eachother and began the waltz. Perfect wedding eye-contact.
not a dry eye.

Writing alone and in public is an invitation. For interruption,
unwantedconversation. At the bar at a place that’s fast becoming
a “haunt” I liveunswayed by schedule or finances, get another.
I’ve not been writing long, they aren’t busy and this is a thought
to finish. Plus, I haven’t been interrupted yet.

I’ve been involved in executing—at some level—a fair
number of Weddings. Dj, best man, usher, something.
Ritual is important but always better when the Bride and
Groom are Having Fun Up There. The nervous pre-vow clap.
The blush-and-giggle. The spontaneous high-five.
Good food at the reception, if not an open bar.

The bartender isn’t interested that his music choice
triggered these memories, or what I’m writing, or that
I write, or if he is, that’s the wrong assumption to make.
Still, bringing it up is part of the ritual. I have still
avoided interruption, but take thoughtful pauses as I consider more.
Rainier is not a slow sipper.

What makes a great wedding song? Believability. That
the couple has reached into what they think of love
and pulled something out together, both rare and welcome.
That if they can find the right song, perhaps they
just might be ready for anything.

These are unexpected thoughts, ponderances, not plans.
I’ve long stopped making assumptions. Things I work out on paper
but never read as I ease into new haunts. Bartender wipes the
counter down with the absent vigor of one who’s been at this for years.
I lift my glass in deference without even thinking.

________________________________________________________________________________-
this is a few drafts away from anywhere close to "finished" or "let's read this out somewhere" so I'm welcoming comment.

". . .my brain is falling apart like wet cake."

This was Dave Beer's opening gambit the last time I saw him. After a three-day bender, red-brown stubble all over a face that was used to a razor and a washcloth. He wasn't sure, but something had to change and despite a bit of a shaky grip, there were plans in place for change and I wish there was some sort of phrase that was both the inverse and encompassing of a "shit-eating grin."

It is an image, phrase and tone-of-voice-eye-contact-combo that has come to mind lately. I am sitting in my (new! note that I have Successfully Moved) room, listening to the Stone Roses' good album, just sort of sitting with things, not the least of which are all the doritos I ate in lieu of a lunch today.

file under "awww, that's so sweet."

"Graham, your friendship is far more important to me than sleeping with racists."-- kat