I'll tell you everything an look at my fingers while I tell you

The water moves inside the dishwasher and I can hear it from here. I really was lucky to get a dishwasher in the mix for such a reasonable price in this area. When I got home tonight, as I walked across the porch, I called out CORN! and nothing happened and I laughed with the reverberation of me laughing lasting longer than the laugh. While the laugh echoed slightly I thought about when she said "you can have my number you know", and I laughed and looked in her eyes. Later, I walked away.

I think it is funny tha people have blogs and don't put anything about themselves in the blogs. I'll be honest loook at Ron Silliman's blog. I look at it and I scroll down the pages and read through some and go to some links. Mostly I go to it becuse it has a great link list. Through this list I found Tao Lin's blog. On Tao Lin's blog I found Noah Cicero's blog and Ellen Kennedy's blog. When I read Ellen Kennedy's poetry I CAN'T help but think about Mr. Kennedy. Mr. Kennedy is a professional wrestler currently on the Monday Night RAW show. Most of what I know about the inner workings of a corporation I learned from watching professional wrestling. This means I don't know much but the parts I do know are wierd and useless, and that fits in. The mic lowers from the rafters:

Mr. Kennedy.


Kennedy.

I know I am still trying to get on your goodside, but, and,I have to be honest. I just got home from a party. At this party, as I entered I screamed. I may have screamed WOO but I don't remember. I just switched the batteries on my wireless keyboard. While I was at the party I screamed. At one point someone told a friend of mine that I should stop screaming. I went to that friend and asked who told him that. He tol me she told me that, and pointed. I went over to her. I said, do you really think I should be quiet? She said nothing and made a facial expression. I looked in her eyes and said nothing. She denied that she had said that. I said WOO. The party responded, WOO. Then, I walked away and thought about Ric Flair sitting in the locker room looking at his towel as he sits on the bench. Ric Flair is a professonal wrestler that says WOO when he gives his opponent the knife-edge-chop. The crowd responds. Really, whenever any wrestler gives a knife-edge-chop the crowd goes WOO because that is how charismatic Ric Flair is. Chris Benoit used to go to the top rope and move his thumb across his throat, like he was cutting his throat with his thumb, before giving a flying headbutt to his opponent. When he chopped people, thecrowd said WOO.

I just went and got some water and didn't close the drawer that the water was in, but the fridge door closed it for me.

About me: the angel is facing the nail clippers on the old pay check on my desk next to the empty 8 oz pepsi can on the wooden chest next to my bed that is covered in red sheets and a plaid comforter

I love that the bed has a comforter. A comforter is something a have on my bed next to my stuffed dog, Kooler. Sometimes when I look on my leg I find a flea that is left behind from Corn. I am the zebra bursting out of the lion from inside and becoming one bad ass Zebra that other lions can still eat and get full on. I wonder what it's like to fall asleep so easily. I looked down at my arm while I was peeing earlier and I thought I had bruised my arm, but now I think someone gave me arm hickies while I was dancing at the party. This is probably not true. While I dance I tend to put both of my arms in the air and point diagonally away from my shoulders. This is something I learned from professional wrestling. When I go to the party I go there like a wrestler. I cut promos in people's faces and sometimes I get put in a headlock.

The clouds moved behind the mountain and the car moved on the road cutting through the cornfields in the valley near the ice cream stand where the cows sleep nearby. I thought about you while I drove tonight. I thought about you from when I saw you earlier. It was good to see you. It was good to talk to you. I am so bad at initiating talks with people from across distances. Sometimes I like sending text messages because I can send a little poem. Some of the most heartfelt and personal things I have ever written were text messages. Sometimes I lick my hand and smell my saliva on my hand.

It's not that I miss you. It is just that I am sad, a little, while I live alone. I am resigned to the way time and distance works on a minds ability to remember someone. I resign. I resigned a few months ago. I just think it is important to remember each other, and I know we all do, just in this scared and worried way. So I think it is important to make public those hidden loving feelings trapped inside the building in the middle of civilization. I look at my hands and there is small cut on my hands I didn't notice before, it looks like the kind of cut you get from glass. I wonder if I bled. It's like no matter what I do all I can do is esape from thinking about you out there on the earth. Eventually I start thinking about another one of you, but some of you stick around. I am glad there is no blog workshop where people question the use of pronouns, and you can't say anything. That is a nice thing about blogs. But you are always there and that is what keeps me alive, that's all. I touch my arm, I roll my sleeve up over my shoulder and think about rocking horses in a room with you, where you have a window over your head and some pieces of snow are coming from a small gap around the edge of the window. I know a little bit about entertaining you, I learned it from professional wrestling. I know some about loving you openly. Mostly I know how to be honest with you. I know how to scare some of you off with too much honesty right away. But you know, if after a long time, when I have not seen you for years, I will welcome you. I have a place for you.