Reason #1, why I love the F train: Because it takes me from Broadway to 74th Street / Roosevelt Avenue in 20 f’ing minutes – faster than a cab, and for a very reasonable $1.50.
Reason #2, why I love the F train: because “F” is a polite, and FCC friendly, way of saying “fuck.”
I’ve realized, since I’ve had to plumb the depths of the BS archives in search of the “On this Day” entries, that I’ve gone from talking about the events in my life, to talking solely about how I feel about life. Considering that the lovely Linz can garner 20something comments simply discussing her drive along an interstate, I wonder maybe if I’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere myself. It isn’t just comment envy, but sure, that plays a part. It’s more a, “I’ve shared so much with you all, why I have I stopped sharing so much?”
And, of course, these feelings well up inside me might be because I’m drunk. Okay, I’m not really drunk. Just sort of happy. And really, who doesn’t deserve to be happy? Happy is such a basic human need that even those old fucks who wrote the constitution felt it necessary to proclaim that all men were guaranteed their pursuit of it. Although, I’m sure they didn’t have $3 Yuenglings in mind when they wrote that.
At any rate, I’m happy.
The one and only Eviltom and I hit the Bowery Poetry Club tonight for an evening of culture, and poems about pussy. I’ve been to the BPC four times in the last couple months, other poetry venues before that, and none has compared to tonight. Sure, there were the requisite number of naïve political poems, but I hardly had to roll my eyes at the simplistic worldview of “Bush bad. Peace good” pieces.
Maybe it was that the stars were in perfectly alignment, or that four of the five slam contestants were female, or possibly the fact I’ve not gone out drinking in what seems like ages, but this night was as close to perfect as possible, even considering there was no one waiting for me in bed when I came home.
Still, a night of spoken word always leaves me with the feeling like I should be doing… something. Anything. It doesn't matter what, as long as it's more than I’m doing now. Which is really strange considering that on any given day, more people are reading the crap that I am writing here then will ever hear any one of those poets tonight in their entire fucking careers.
Yet. Still. I don’t know.
This post is bad. Seriously. I shouldn’t post when drunk, or happy, or tired. But, in case you missed the oh so subtle clues, I’m waiting for a deluge of comments saying things along the lines of “No, MG, you aren’t wasting your life,” and “Even if it isn’t poetry, I still like your website,” and “Oh, you are so pretty” and "Your breathe, it is as fresh as an Alpine breeze." Stuff like that. So, let the praise commence.
Ah, the eternal question: What is the meaning of life? A rather circular answer I once heard was that the meaning of life is to give life meaning. I fell for it, so I decided I would get a Ph.D. in Sociology. The pay sucks, you only get a job when someone dies, and the politics are like a Mensa-level girlfight, professionally, for the rest of your working life. But it seemed meaningful to me. Anyways, existential meaning is out there. It ain't always pretty. But don't stop looking for it.
On to the compliments: Hey, you post really well drunk. Your breath, it smells like an Alpine breeze. Your Web site rocks. It's the only weblog I still read. Howzzat?
by jean at February 21, 2003 1:48 AM
It was the absence of my singing, wasn't it?
by überchick at February 21, 2003 3:21 AM
Yup, you're the balls alright. But I can't help but notice that the term "comment envy" has now shed its quotation marks, like "chad." And isn't "political poetry" an oxymoron?
by Anna at February 21, 2003 7:39 AM
Pussy PussyPussy Pussypussy pussy
by Eviltom at February 21, 2003 8:48 AM
That's sort of a pussy haiku, except that it doesnt have the right syllables in the right places, it doesnt have any real meaning, and it doesnt really resemble a poem in any way. Other than that, it's a pussy haiku. Hey, I was inspired by the poets.
by Eviltom at February 21, 2003 8:50 AM
That's it. I'm entering you into the next slam.
Get your pussy face on. You're going in.
by quicksilver at February 21, 2003 11:01 AM
Everyone seems to have either missed or ignored the point of this post. This comments section was supposed to be about showering MG with loving adoration, dammit!
MG, I want you to know that even if you never write anything coherent ever again, I will still be your faithful fan and eternal follower of this site.
Oh, and yeah, that part about your breath being fresh like arctic breezes is true.
by Lucy at February 21, 2003 12:01 PM
Lucy... I guess men are easily distracted by pussy.
by Eviltom at February 21, 2003 12:06 PM
Evil One, I believe that would be
Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy
Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy
Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy Pussy
A very inspiring haiku if I ever saw one
by Ezy at February 21, 2003 3:47 PM
Pussy Pussy Pu
Pussy Pussy Pussy Pu
Pussy Pussy Pu
Ahhhh. Much better
by Ezy at February 21, 2003 4:42 PM
mg, why wouldn't you post when you are drunk? you are fascinating regardless. Drunk, sober, single, hitched, clothed, naked...
can we please hear about the new girlfriend now or do i single-handedly exceed the quota of dating-related posts on this site?
by Linz at February 21, 2003 4:49 PM
by quicksilver at February 21, 2003 5:34 PM
by Eviltom at February 21, 2003 6:07 PM
MG, you give me a reason to go to work and abuse our high-speed internet connection. I also find your website layout quite graphically pleasing. I appreciate you MG, your hard work, your rugged good looks, and the fact that I will never have to buy you a beer.
by Joseph at February 21, 2003 10:23 PM
Well Joseph, thanks for the compliments, but if I ever make it down your way, I'm damn sure I'll be expecting at least one drink from you.
by mg at February 21, 2003 11:38 PM
I assume if you're drunk you are lying about the wonderful smelling breathe thing... But all that aside, your blog is the only one I read (unless you count the rest of bad samaritan... which I don't, because they are no you)
Your breast heaves
I long to be close to you
In each others arms
Sure that should be written for a female... but I think it fits you well MG
by LostSoul at February 22, 2003 12:36 AM
Also, you like the word "panties" almost as much as I do. I also like the word "booze" Yep. Now it's my turn to booze it up. But it never goes up to my head. Yay me. :D
by Lucy at February 22, 2003 2:03 AM