hoodie

 man, I keep leaving the screendoor open

and all of the fly guys keep coming in

and I yell and swish them around but they don't care

fly guys don't care

don't fucking care

FGDC

oh man, I just put on a hoodie

and it's like 80 degrees here on the patio of gayulz club

and I'm wearing a fucking sweatshirt, like who AM I?

I told Nickey her blog is fucking so good

in all caps

and she told me I was drunk

and the cool thing is that I got home from work

and there are watermelon beers in the fridge that I've nothing to do with

and I'm drinking them, but am not drunk

but I'm tryin

ok so it was Nickey

she literally just told me 

that I need to try

try

try 

try.

all I do is try

  

  Last summer around Nickey's birthday I wrote a poem in the blue book she made me for my birthday

  we were sitting by a pool

  I was drinking watermelon beer

  and I was melancholy

  because I felt very like I was in love with someone

  who I knew wouldn't ever be there back with me

  So I wrote down something like

   

    Don't cry

      Let her die

     if the ship has sailed

         say

           Bye Bye

and I didn't realize it rhymed, which instantly makes it a poem,?

& it was later abrevved, tried to become my motto

try, die, bye bye

which is not something I ever had to commit to memory

bc my memory has long forever made me a committer to it

le ceour of discovery

a man came into the coffeeshop today,

he was wearing a navy polyester polo insigned with 

LEWIS & CLARK EXPLORERS

and I am super jealous, because

I don't think I ever told you

about how romantic I find the journey of Lewis & Clark

They kept thorough journals, documenting new animals they came across

and new landscapes

Lewis wrote a lot about his feelings

on his 30th birthday 

he was downtrodden. 

He felt he had reached middle-age

without having accomplished anything.

I was just 26 in my lazybed in Portland when I heard this

and he was in Montana or somewhere

not killing or raping anyone

just Exploring the crazy place

and I was like, damn, Meriwether

I'd say you're doing pretty well.

He killed himself
after they returned east
it was thought he'd been murdered by indians.
Heros don't die by an own hand.
Heros don't die alone.

But he was alone in a little cabin with a gun.

Apparently he'd been calling for Clark.

He wanted Clark before he died.

I've always wanted to make a romantic dramedy about Lewis & Clark, 

but super romantic,

like brokeback moutain style.

Clark could be played by a '90s Kevin Costner

and Lewis, a '90s Johnny Depp

so, superhunky, like sexiest-man-alive kind of hunky

And Johnny is splayed out on the boat

linen shirt dirtied, torn, trembling open

beneath the 4th of July explosions

I can't quit you, Clark

I can't quit you.

I think it could sell

but I'd need a time machine

so Jennifer Lopez could play Sacajawea

like in her Selena days