table of contents

Drawings made by Liz Petro inspired by Dinosaur Dream #1

I like both of these very much.  One time, a couple years ago, Liz came up to me late on a weekend night.  She asked me if I wanted to go to her place with her.  I said yes, I went into my room and was very nervous when I was alone.  I collected some things and went out.  I felt cinematic.  She was drunk as hell.  She grabbed my crotch and looked at me while she was driving.  I smiled and told her to look at the road.  She would look at the road for a little bit, then come back to me.  I liked it and felt unsafe.  We got to her house.  I had never been in that building before.  I went in, there was a bike in the hallway.  We walked around the bike.  We went to her room and undressed in the bed.  It felt lovely.  She went to the bathroom.  She came back and told me she was on her period.  I minded, but I didn't mind at all.  I was relieved in a way, at the time.  We held each other.  We talked.  She went to Italy four days later.

short public letter to josh walker

I don't know why it feels better to write to you here.  I think that the private side is always what brought us down.  Things are moving here.  I am in a good place.  I am starting on Div III.  The scramble is always stupid, but I can roll with the mole.  I look around here and try to motivate people into a seriousness of purpose again.  This time it is a little different.  It is older, now.  It has an inside and an outside.  Revolting against Tao Lin reminds me of the days we would walk on the streets and impose the revolution on people passing us, very subtly.  I think it is the kind of imposition that people of the revolution understand as revolutionary.  

I walk around in my house.  I touch my two cats with my hands and my face and I speak to them.  It is certainly different living alone.  The other day, when I walked to the car from the house, I carried a screwdriver just in case.  Twice, when I was walking on the path to my house from the car I have heard voices.  The first time I swear to go I heard Sam's voice and she said, 'Mike'.  The voice came from all around me.  When I heard it I looked up a little, kind of diagonally.  I was not afraid.  I purred and unlocked the door and touch my jacket above where my heart is.  The next time I heard a deep low voice that didn't say any words.  I got scared.  I walked quickly up the stairs and turned around.  I stood at the top of the stairs and pointed out.  I scanned the surroundings with my finger, pointing at everything.  I expected to see someone crossing the street or something, but no one was around.  That was the time before I carried the screwdriver to the car.  

I bet the show went well.  No one can play music like Michael Jackson's Nose.  Barrrrck.  I am very busy all the time.  I try to keep my hands full.  I have many plates and many stomachs right now.  I think the demon you saw in your dreams on Main St.  was real.  You should stay till May, but then you should come back over here.  Things are moving a little.  And I am sure we can figure how to make them move more.  I am glad that the time we had together in the past is over, and when we start over it is all new.  We needed a shake up.  It is like when two powerful stars rotate too close and they exchange mass with one another until both are unstable.  But feet are here, where the ground is.  


The grey part of the orange

My belt touches my pants while I walk through the hall under the lights.  
I write to you and keep it for myself.  I cook noodles and pace.  
The gutter comes off of the building at an angle and the water curves towards the ground.

We look around the room, looking at people and things.  We talk and make eye contact,
sometimes.  A part of the treehouse falls out of the tree.  No one is near the tree.  
An animal is burrowing under the tree.  A cloud moves slowly above the tree.

I throw my body on the bed and think about how it would feel to discuss something
with you and not think about your body.  I remember looking at your clothes 
while you wore them, and imagining what made them that shape.  

Telephone wires with a little slack.  The animal in the tent near the bleachers.  
That cloth that moves circularly.  What is the matter?  I want to care more than I can.

I carry a bag on my shoulder and walk from the parking garage to the street to think about you under this lightbulb that isn't on

I have been walking around and driving around.  It is weird weather up here.  I sit an home and think with no electronics on.  I plan.  I am working on many books right now.  I have four days to complete I am a Little Bit Happier Than Tao Lin and one day to post it all.  There is a mass of snow falling off the roof onto the pile next to the house.  It shakes the house.  I shake someone's hand inside the house.  It is warm here.  I didn't get drunk yesterday.  I rarely do.  I don't even really think about it that often.  When I do I get a pain in my stomach, sometimes.  I have a sensitive stomach and sensitive teeth.  

America is home of car henge.  It is also home of Mt. Rushmore.  Mall of America is in America.  

At my friend's house, there are piles of clothes.  There is a box with XBOX360 games and a projector in it.  There is a bed here and a tv, and a computer.  The heat is on here, the thermostat says 56.  

TAO LIN!  Expand your images spatially!  You have a more expansive mind than you show me.  

Tao Lin walks through the city and thinks about things in depth.  He is a very smart person in public and private.  His books are good, there aren't many people that have books out that write as well as he can.  I think there are alot of people that write as powerfully as he does.   I am not as distant as Tao Lin.  I feel emotions like he does.  I think we are pretty similar, as far as form goes.  He thinks he is better than other people, and I don't do that anymore.  I used to.  I believe in revolting against him because he is in a good position to help expand the writing community, but his social stresses get in the way.  There are possibilities for a marketable poetry community.  The poetry being written now is powerful, there are powerful writers that connect with people that live daily lives.  This connection is marketable to people outside of the poetry niche.  I hate the poetry niche because I don't like much poetry.  Most poetry just looks like the possibility of poetry to me.  

Don't forget, I got the belt.  That means everything in this business.  Tao Lin thinks he can take the belt.  He thinks he deserves the belt for being the greatest.  But I got a message for you, Tao Lin:  postcinema is the greatest.  Tao Lin, I am the prettiest writer alive.  You can see me walking around on the earth from outerspace.  You got no chance.  I am going to get you groggy, wandering around the squared circle.  I will climb the top rope.  When you are shaking your head and coming to I will jump from the top rope and grab the back of your head while I am in the air.  As I land on the mat I will pull your forehead into my knees and you will feel the force the Crumbler.  You will lay on the mat, not moving, as I pin you 1 - 2 - 3.  I'm gonna get there early and sit in every seat in the arena.  I want to know what the ring will look like from every angle as I destroy your egoface and retain the belt.  

from 'i am a little bit happier than tao lin' coming out on bore parade March 1st

i honestly know who this poem is directed at and i write it with conviction and ease

part of your philosophy of life is that you don't want any drugs or any drunk
you are nihilistic daily but you still care about the environment somehow
your worldview is that  gmailchat, tao lin, and vegans are 
the best
your belief system is that tonight you are going to be bored
you are an asshole to other people because of the human condition, 
existentialism, and your high IQ
you would rather punch someone in the face and kill them than have them think you might be  
overcome with happiness
your greatest accomplishment in life is keeping a calm face when you are nervous

I go to the store, get pasta and cat food, cook pasta, feed cats, send text message, watch cats play in water

audio and text coming soon

supermarket nightmare #3, dinosaur dream #1

This is a video of me reading dinosaur dream #1 for supermarket nightmare #3.  You can see chiefrunningtears cleaning up on the bed behind me.

the jaguar uprising continues

last night I began my e-maIl campaign against tao lin. I wrote to gawker a couple times and ron silliman and some other small places. Today, ron silliman posted a link to the tao lin uprising page. I am convinced this is a newsworthy feud that will carry on. I hope more people join the war. Kenda linked to silliman, go to her page to see. My internet has mysteriously gone down. I fear tao lin is behind it. I had to drive around to find service to post from today. The uprising will continue. I am gathering troops. I hope to get some bore parade submissions soon. I know that 'I am a little bit happier than tao lin' and 'zzzzzz zzz zzzz' are coming out in the next week or so. stay tuned. much more revolutionary antics to come. And I will post a prettier post when I can sit somewhere other than my car. My car is in a parking spot and people an d cars are passing me. I feel like I should get arrested doing this. But there is no police car here right now. It is raining a little, and I miss all of you deeply. Write to me. Send bore parade some revolutionary lit.


added the about / classics page to bore parade. We don't have any classics, so I just put both words on the one link. This page is very similar to the bear parade about page. There is information about submission to bore parade here. Jaguar uprising, they are on the run.

Also the first update to supermarket nightmare #3 went up. You can see that here. This is a picture of a Bannana brand banana truck. There person driving this truck has on a banana hat and yellow clothes. Wait till you see his shoes.

Steal each other from each other please

my nose is bleeding in my sleep
I spit in my sleep and it lands on your cheek
you wake up and get a paper towel to clean things
you wash the spit off your face with my blood on the paper towel

some water touches all sides of the boat
fifty feet off the shore of a lake
where some bugs fly above the reeds coming out of the water

there are stacks of things on every surface in this house
the cats knock things over here
I call you to tell you about it
but you don’t pick up
so I leave a message about something else

two llamas and a woman wearing a hat
walk through the town at the base of the mountain
someone flies a model airplane near the church

I think about you wearing clothes in a crowd
I hop from one tile to the next in the kitchen
while the water boils
I touch my ear to the window you smack the window and laugh standing outside
I climb to the top of the house and ride the pterodactyl down to you

forget it
crowd surf
eat a half dried noodle with a fork

Gabcast! on earth through nothing with ease #8 - steal each other from each other please

To Tao Lin, a sheepherder to our rowdy roddy piper

see here for back story, post and comments. Finally a good feud. Tao Lin will never take the belt.

brain attack

I hear the plow trucks and the icesnow because my window is open. The cats like the window more when it is open. I can't open it too much, or the cats will stand up and squeeze between the screen and the window. I can't have any of that. What if the screen popped out and the cat fell out and landed in the snow? I might go out the window after it, if that happened. I am on the first floor. If I went around and used the doors the cat would probably run away. It's not the right season for taking cats for walks.

I don't like post-modernism. I think it is pretty boring. I can snooze to a tape of someone talking about post-modernism. But that is the best thing about it. It hurts my heart and makes me shake my head. That time is long past. Postmodernism is definately over. It's boringly over. Naptime style. But now there will be a whole lot of other posts. I feel like we will say post everything, all the things, we will go through them like we went through isms.

Alot of the stuff I like is postirony. That stuff tries to be funny, and funny is tough when you are alone so I honor that. Internet writing is good enough, I like the writers who talk about themselves as the internet school of poetry, there is some postirony in them. I think that the internet school of poetry is kind of a weak thing to call it. I will put post in front. The postinternet writers are kind of like prerobot writers, postinternet will slowly lead us to the poets who can write the best programs to write poems. The postinternet writers get to feel patronized without economic impact. This might aid in a constant removed feeling of disconnection that is eventually generative.

I think I can describe the way that The Golden Bear, Two Tears Boye, and The Industry write as postcinematic. The structure of the narration includes a detatched nonpersonal perspective that interacts with landscape and people outside of the main narrative, as well as a point of view that follows and is related to a main character. Often, postcinematic writing plays on the separation between television and viewer, bringing the reader close in, focusing on compassion and caring even with all of the mess everywhere. There is a focus on spaces and spatial movement. This could be a style heavily influenced by suburb and semicity life.

There are a few people I know that don't write as a primary activity. These people go to writing for lack of anything else to do at that time. They don't come from any studied background, and thier life experience is what makes up the strong poetic voice. I think of this writing as postpoetry. Jordan Branson, Josh Walker, and Eric Pizzola write postpoetry. I think that when these writers write it becomes poetry because they think in conversational fragments, not prosaic sentences. There are millions of people like this. I imagine postpoetry is written in text messages.

All of these posts are really similar, they are probably all postavant. But there are variations. Postinternet poetry doesn't prove to me that it cares about anyone. Postpoetry cares about alot of things, but writing isn't the focus. It can become the focus, given the circumstances, and it is usually temporarily. Contemporary postmodernism is for people who can't sleep and need to sleep really really bad, I'm talkin last resort. And postcinematic writing is working out the kinks. All I can hope for is to have competing brands that can cut promos on each other.

See a post someone wrote on the 13th about post as a prefix here.
First use of postavant.

the worm shows off it's clothes to the creature with no body


soon with full audio

from On Earth Through Nothing With Ease

I was looking for you and I didn’t tell you
some machines are bled
some machines are blessed
some machines are distraction
a black bird with an iridescent head and yellow beak
flies between power lines between a tree and a stop sign
four small birds land on the asphalt and jump around
pecking the smallest parts of food left over
i step from one step to another
you are a door
here the rust is on the poles that hold the streetlights
and other places too
and rusty things get replaced
and we can relate to a lifespan
i realize there’s a lot out there these days
but it too deceivingly small and ridiculous
it is too violent and boring for a human mind to rely on
i know it is long days in the hot and lusty but
it is worth when it happens to remember in this
world of too much that this world is not enough this is pretty nice
don’t get me wrong we have come a long way but please
there are more rewarding relaxations in life
we are nothing special but we have the ability to understand and examine and leave artifacts on purpose in public
I don’t know so i try to find things one at a time and forget
just as fast sometimes but not always and sometimes it all comes back
forget it
here is a little hesitation in the question
how do you spell that again
I placed my hand on the shark then my hand touched the water as it sank
there is no proper way to live
there is no conspiracy
don’t worry
it’s all a hoax
and placed the book on the table and began to cry loudly
the water boils and it is not enough on it’s own
if you trust it there is still no definite outcome
the horse takes off over the hedges and makes a sound with it’s throat
the plastic cup sits on the table
we sit with it
empty along with it
how’s the new thing going I forgot what you called it the other day
I don’t need you like I used to I am glad you are far away right now
the individual garbages melt into one large lumpy thing
it’s easy to forget it
the walk down the hall is usually meaningless
but that doesn’t mean there is no hope
I take the useless and find a way to fear it
when the slowly slowly moving is not enough distraction
to survive on a pair of shoes on feet walking in a circle
he leans off the edge of the dock peeing on
a burning boat sinking into water
who do you call
who do you call when everyone is sleeping
I leave you a message of a couple sentences
my voice offers no urgency or desperation
I am sitting in the parking lot of McDonalds
farting and laughing to myself
as I eat fry after nugget
something someone has said to me
remains in my head and it is louder than everything
echoing and getting louder
I was four the first time it happened
the light was on and I was in bed trying to sleep
helicopters over the city covered in blinking bulbs
the pole between the car and the white truck
the fixtures in the diner covered in dust
and swaying in the gusts that come in when the door opens
come in come on in
I mean I refuse to hold your hand or lead you to the door
but I will grab a paper towel or something
if I can help
we gotta understand these things first hand
I hear about it and kind of forget it
and am never reminded of it
and that was a good story too
I remember the painfully empty everydays everyday
when I am alone it is embarrassing slightly
and I go to the same websites over and over
I still have love for you
and I hope it still means as much
in the digitally compressed file
a ship in the ocean with water going into the air around it
a ship in the ocean with water covering the deck and fish in the water
a ship nest to the fish slightly under the surface of the ocean
in a convenience store two people don’t have enough for condoms
one of them suggests the pullout method
and walks over to the cooler
opens it and grabs a water
a hand putting money on a counter
the pocket on the shirt of a clerk in the bag counting boxes
Bruce Willis is sitting in the fifth row of the quietly dark theatre
watching one of his daughters perform in a high school play
a naturally mummifies body lays on the ground in the jungle
thousands of miles from the city
watching a squirrel run around the tree then into a hole in the tree
reminds me a multi-dimensional universe
and I fly up until the planet looks flat
and perfectly round
I fly up until the galaxy looks flat
and surrounded by other flat galaxies that we can
go inside and find the details
of the planets and their landscapes
someone hands someone a nightclub flyer
continues walking
and offers flyer to the next person nearing
a jungle with natives standing in it
a native with a headdress of grass
standing in front of a camera
a mother flips through catalogs walking through the living
room and finds her son passed out on the floor
between the tv and the couch
the tear moves pretty
fast down the cheek
and thins slightly on the skin
then it is absorbed by the sleeve that wipes it away
we’ve gotten ourselves into a tough spot
one of the tires is up on the snow bank
one of tire spins just above the ground
the window is open
an arrow with a rope tied to it flies through the room into the wall
how did you find out
a body with a wound in a bed
a quivering hand pushes the tray off the table
and this distance
our distance
the damn distance only grows
a grappling hook catches on each one of our limbs
the ropes go taut and we are suspended in the air
but these ropes drop and we drop with them
I’ll meet you up there
I try not to eat fast food everyday
I dance with the lion
in the top of the tree
on the sidewalk of the city
come on let’s go
there’s a seat for you here
it is warm and near a pillow
the wind is here with us
slightly moving the fabrics draped on us
I love you I care about you
I am afraid you will turn on me at any moment
so I keep to myself for most of it
a feather in the helmet on the ground
make-up moving down a face in a tear
the hand smears the mark across the cheek
is loving and only trying to help
but we break together sometimes
this little fire is nice
but if you move closer it will spread
these are dynamic smoke signals finding you through time to say
it’s all okay no matter what no matter what it’s all okay
something dripping from a car into a puddle on the concrete
a bird calling repeatedly from a roof near a tree
light moving from that clock face to my face
light moving from that clock tower to you
there are no breakthroughs here
it remains
it feels like a breakthrough but it remains
and was here and hidden
we pass on and disintegrate
keeps us in bed and on the earth with diamonds
these words are my prism
I am spectral and usual
you are the furnace fire and the coal of our engine
a little human being inside a construction machine
planets and galaxies and universes die
where is that afterlife of heavenly bodies
rotating in peace without the explosions
one dense particle in the center of nothing
unimaginable nothing
and we will return to nothingness
and become unimaginable
and dissolve into the whole again
I am a life form with an ego in this world
and I cast it off into the ocean
and cast my heart in it to survive
swelling wave
field of wheat
crowd of hands swaying
wheels carrying the wagon on the gravel to somewhere else
this food sizzles on the metal pan in the burner
I have been born into a game with no teams

supermarket nightmare #3 preview

This is audio only, and kind of a shifty audio at that. Some words are muffled a little. To see text version go here on friday. After friday I will be posting one chapter a day, everyday, until a couple days after my birthday.

Gabcast! on earth through nothing with ease #7 - supermarket nightmare #3 preview

untitled supermarket nightmare #3

From Sunday 20th of May until Monday 21st of August Chris Killen wrote the first untitled 'supermarket nightmare', which you can read here. When Chris finished writing the 100 pages he had said he would write he offered to pass the book on to the person who offered to write the most chapters. He passed it on to Duncan Cheshire, you can read supermarket nightmare #2 here. Duncan is writing 127 chapters, and he is almost done. It is a story with an I that works in a supermarket, there is love and dynamic systems where love moves through time. There is a girl named Carol and she has a knee. Duncan is currently holding the chapter offer for supermarket nightmare #3. I am in the running. I can not tell you how long I offered to make #3. This contest is not over yet. But I made an honorable offer that keeps in mind the accumulated time put into 1 and 2. Really I got an email telling me I am in the lead by a bit, so I am excited. I would love to carry on something started by people I do not know. The only rule is that you have to post one chapter everyday. I can take the story wherever it goes. I am thinking about the bannana delivery person. They will ride around a bit, they will see old characters in spread out grocery stores. The I will now work in a convienience store, because I have more experience with that. I may add a 'you' to this story. I am excited. You can see the page for supermarket nightmare #3 here, with no chapters written yet. Originally I was going to use this site to make a long slideshow about a catsociety that uses catmoney and everycat wants more catmoney. All the cats have money, but they just want a little more in the steady cash flow catstory. The steady cash flow w/ catmoney picture is staying on the site, it will just go to the bottom eventually. Maybe the catpeople will appear in the supermarket nightmare. I know one new character in the story is Percy Pringle, the person who plays Paul Barer (small man in the suit in the reality of death promo). In real life he runs a funeral home, and in this story he will have just retired wrestling, and is trying to adjust to the funeral home that is near the store the I works at. Exciting developments.

wrestler entering arena under titontron

Joe Lindsay, The Golden Bear, introduction, The Showcase of the Immortals

+UPDATE+ This story was viewed by ( in Stamford, Ct. (home of wwe headquarters) at 11:31 in the afternoon on February 8th. +UPDATE+

The Showcase Of The Immortals

by Joe Lindsay

“We are all mortals. Our bodies, though strong, can’t defy time. One day, we will die. What matters most is the legacy we leave behind. Did we become all that we are capable of becoming? Did we make the difference we came here to make? Did we pursue our dreams when all around us thought we were chasing illusions? Only those that dare to rise are able to lift themselves above horizons. Only those bold enough, to chase dreams, are the ones who catch them. Wrestlemania. The Showcase of the Immortals."

-Promotional material for Wrestlemania XX

This is it. Wrestelmania, the big time, the granddaddy of them all, the global phenomenon. This is the culmination of 365 days on the road,of near constant travel by the men and women who have earned the right to call themselves “professional” professional wrestlers. This is the finale of their performances in arenas across the country and across the world. Wrestlemania is their reward for taking right hands in Topeka, and for dishing them back out in Tucson. Wrestlemania is a thank you for the cheap heat in New York City and the big spot in New Orleans. Wrestlemania is the reason for the razor blades in Vegas, the chokeholds in Orlando, and the chops in D.C. The promise of Wrestlemania keeps them awake on the sleepless bus ride from Biloxi to Memphis, it is on their minds in Minneapolis staring at the ceiling of the small hotel room, waiting for room service. Wrestlemania had nothing to do with the drunken plane ride to Mexico City. It had everything to do with the concussion in London and the painkillers in the airplane bathroom on the way back home. Wrestlemania is the result of that promo in Green Bay, and the mixed tag match in Kansas City, the Cage in Philadelphia and the double count out in Houston that almost caused a riot. We are here. This is it. This is Madison Square Garden, New York City.
This is Wrestlemania XX, The Showcase of Immortals. Of course Wrestlemania sold-out the Garden. Over 20,000 people of all races, creeds, and colors flowed into that building, cramming in the concrete cavern. They walked through the labyrinth of tunnels and stairs deep in the bowels of the arena, clutching their homemade signs. They bought t-shirts, hats, and programs. They bought popcorn, they bought beer, they bought bratwursts. It was 40 bucks a pop for one of the nosebleeds. At face value, ringside seats were just a shade under a thousand dollars, but guys were selling them online for ten times that.
The focus of all the attention is a small structure in middle of the hollow shell that is the Garden. The professional wrestling world revolves around the ebb and flow in this ring, around the action on top of a 20 ft by 20ft piece of blue canvas. All eyes are on it.


We’re live. Beamed via dish, cable, and satillite into homes in 90 different countries.
Howard “The Fink” Finkel is in the ring. He is the ring announcer for the event. Howard is wearing a tuxedo and holding a microphone. He addresses the crowd,
“Ladies and Gentleman, here to sing America the Beautiful, the world-renowned Boy’s Choir of Harlem”.
The Boys Choir of Harlem is grouped in the middle of the ring. They are wearing matching red suits and red bow ties. Each boy had his right hand on the right shoulder of the boy in front of him. Accompanied by a soft, lilting piano, they begin to sing.
O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
As the boys sing, images are projected onto the big screen in the middle of the arena. At home, these images fade in and out of television sets. They all touch on a common theme. A baby is asleep in a red, white, and blue stroller, the flag still clutched in his right hand. A Navy officer, in full dress blues, salutes the rippling stars and stripes. A young girl perched atop her dad’s shoulders, one hand running through his curly hair, the other frantically waving a small American flag. A group of three fire fighters, heads up, walked bravely, defiantly, in front of the unfurling flag.

America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

The boys are still singing in the center of the ring. On the screen a tank rolls through a deserted desert, silhouetted by a wavering orange-red setting sun. A man in camouflage fatigues looks down. Fighter planes. Cheering troops.

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!

The screen shows us the crowd. A lot of them are waving flags as well. A group of three guys are holding pieces of yellow posterboard in the air. One of the pieces says, U, the other says S, and the third says A. The boys keep singing.

America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

The finale is a computer-generated New York City skyline. The “Freedom Tower” which has not been built yet, stands where the World Trade Towers used to be. The skyline glows against the black backdrop. The boys finish singing. Red, white, and blue streamers drop from the rafters. The fans cheer. They real show is about to start. The lights go out. The fans scream.

A Brief Video Montage.

VOICE OVER NARRATION: Twenty years ago, one man had a vision. It began here, and it would change our world. As the vision grew, we cheered it on. Stood in awe. Held on to our seats, and gave up our hearts. We watched with utter disbelief. Stunned Silence, and sheer amazement. We’ve been inspired and enriched by the vision.

“LATINO HEAT” EDDIE GUERRERO: “Sometimes things in your life are so special, that words cannot explain”.

“THE NEXT BIG THING” BROCK LESNAR: “The history, alone in that place makes Madison square garden special.

DWAYNE “THE ROCK” JOHNSON: “My family is going to come there, my mom, my wife, my dad, my daughter”

JOHN CENA “THE DR. OF THUGGANOMICS”: “Everything I’ve ever wanted out of life has come down to this one day, to this one short period of time”

“THE CRIPPLER” CHRIS BENOIT: “My passion, the thing you dream about and consumes you.”

“THE WRESTLING MACHINE” KURT ANGLE: “People are going to remember this forever”

MICK “MANKIND” FOLEY: “People are going to say, you know what, that match was worth coming back to”

“THE BIG SHOW” PAUL WIGHT: “You haven’t lived, you haven’t breathed, since you’ve danced at Wrestlemania.”

VOICE OVER NARRATION: Tonight will be like no other. Tonight is the showcase of the immortals. They will achieve the impossible and forge new beginnings. Tonight men will chase down their dreams. Tonight no one holds back. And tonight is where it all begins, again.

The video ends; cue the fireworks. They come blazing down from the rafters, along the entrance ramp, shooting from the ring posts themselves. The official Wrestlemania XX theme song blares from the loudspeakers.

“1, 2, 3 - Go!
Yeah, you've been living on the edge of a broken dream.
Yeah, that's the only thing you'll ever take away from me.
I'm never gonna stop,
I'm never gonna drop,
Ain't no different than it was before.
So take some good advice,
You better stop and think twice,
Before you take your first step,
Out that door.”

A man shouts over the chaos,

“This is the pomp, the pageantry, and the passion, known as Wrestlemania XX!!”

Jim Ross, or Good Ol’ J.R. as he’s known to wrestling fans, handles the telecast. A mush-mouthed Oklahoman in a black Resistol Cowboy Hat, J.R. has been the voice of World Wrestling Entertainment for nearly a decade. There are few in the game that do it better than him.

“Welcome to the sold-out Madison Square Garden in New York City. Where tonight, Raw and Smackdown Superstars have the chance to earn they way into immortality. Hello everybody, I’m Jim Ross, alongside Jerry ‘The King’ Lawler. King, I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready than I am tonight for Wrestlemania XX.”


Over the next two hours, wrestlers will perform “Wrestlemania XX” for the crowd. The do what they do best, pretend to beat the living shit out of one another. They slapped, clawed, slammed, choked, whipped, kneed, kicked, punched, chopped, and tossed each other from one end of the ring to the other. They hit each other with chairs, they jumped at each other from ladders, they smashed one another through tables.
That night, in the main event, “The Crippler” Chris Benoit defeated “The Heart Break Kid” Shawn Michaels and “The Game” Triple H in a Triple Threat match for the World Heavyweight Title.
After 27 minutes and 45 seconds a bloody Triple H tapped out to Chris Benot’s “Crippler Crossface” submission hold. Chris Benoit had won the World’s title at Wrestlemania XX in front of a sold out Madison Square Garden crowd. It was the crowning achievement of his nearly 20 year professional wrestling career.
12 Wrestlemania matches, including 7 title defenses, made it a long night for Good Ol’ J.R. He was horse as he made the call.
“Benoit has locked in the Crossface! Benoit has gotten him in the Crossface! Triple H is desperate, the sense of urgency is overwhelming. The champion is reaching for the ropes. When will triple H tap? Can Benoit do it? Triple H is fading away, as Benoit is this close to winning the Heavyweight Championship of the World. Triple H is being tortured by the Wolverine. He is torturing the champion with the Crossface! Will he tap out? Will the champion tap out?”
J.R.’s voice was a rasping yell as Benoit continued to wrench Triple H,
“The title is on the line! Benoit is ripping the champions head off!”
It’s too much for the champ. He raises his had and slaps it back on the mat. He has tapped out, said “uncle,” given up.
J.R. is still going, “It’s over! It’s over”
Howard Finkel comes over the P.A. “the winner of this bout and NEWWWW World Heavyweight Champion, Chris Benoit!”
Chris Benoit lay facedown on the canvas. He was crying. Not just crying, sobbing. His tears mixed with the blood and sweat that stained the blue canvas. The ref walked over to Benoit and handed him the belt. Benoit held it with both hands. And for a moment, just a moment he became what he once was, a skinny fifteen year old kid from Edmonton, Alberta with a dream, a good work ethic, and a whole lot of good luck.
J.R. has not stopped shouting.
“This sold out crowd at Madison Square Garden has erupted! Chris Benoit’s eighteen year oddessey has culminated by winning the World’s Heavyweight title at Wrestlemania XX!”
That brief moment of boyishness faded far quicker than it came.
As Chris Benoit rose to his feet the years visibly, rapidly, piled onto his shoulders. Benoit was losing his hair, he was missing a tooth, he had lost most of the feeling in his right arm, he had had his neck surigically put back together.
But as the new champion raised his title in the air, the illuminated Wrestlemania XX logo looming behind him, it was clear that this night belonged to Chris Benoit.
“Benoit, so many times, has been so close. Year after year, mile after mile, continent after continent. But Benoit never gave up, he never gave up. Benoit has done it. Benoit is living his dream. Finally, finally, by God, finally. Chris Benoit has become the Heavyweight champion of this world!”
As J.R. continued his call, another man entered the ring. Benoit turned around. It was his best friend, fellow wrestling champion, Eddie Guerrero. Guerrero was slowly clapping in honor of his friend. They moved together and hugged, Benoit’s eyes welling up with tears.
“Eddie Guerrero with a heartfelt embrace on his friend Chris Benoit. These two men have traveled the world over so many times, and they are both shedding tears of joy, because Chris Benoit can say ‘I won the Heavyweight Championship of the World in Madison Square at Wrestlemania XX”
Eddie Guerrero lifted Chris Benoit’s arm in the air, as confetti filled the arena. The moment became a part of Wrestling’s mythology. It became an iconic image of the sport, of the culture, of the industry. The official theme song echoed in the background.

You had your chance to walk away.
Live to see another day.
And now you've crossed that line...
You must be out your mind.


There was some formatting that was lost in the transfer.

You can visit the Golden Bear's official blog at

things that happen in the duration of an episode of American Idol

the video is 20 seconds longer than the audio, but it is very ambient video, so don't worry about any kind of timing.

Gabcast! on earth through nothing with ease #6 - things that happen in the duration of an episode of American Idol

slowly, window water

Video is a few seconds longer than audio, so it is best to start the video then start the audio seven seconds later.

on earth through nothing with ease #5 - Slowly, window water

Silent Skydive

Slowly, Window Water

I walk through the tall grass towards the supermarket
there are streetlights on and some car noise over there
I kneel in the grass and my hair moves in the wind
the grass moves in the wind
and the garbage near the curb moves in the wind on the parking lot
someone standing in a shopping cart throws a mug on to the concrete
I jump out of the grass and hit your shoulder with my shoulder and smile at you
you push me back into the grass I laugh I wave when I walk away
the milk coats the glass she drinks from I hear a radio from a car
a little runs down her collar and he hands her a napkin then
he looks at his cellphone in the low light of the restaurant
you skip with me on the concrete I sit on a curb and look in your eyes
what is it
what’s wrong?
they dance touching each other they move their hips in unison
and touch each other and worry the other is edging away
to somewhere else without them
they eventually dance alone and move between the dancing bodies
the balloon moves towards the clouds
the balloon gets so small
a child grabs a metal bat and walks on the dirt towards the umpire
while the catcher talks to the pitcher standing on the mound
this cat circles the house meowing loudly near the window
the cat stands on the mower and nuzzles against the window
I say ‘how was your night?’ to you on instant messenger
you don’t respond
a few hours later I send ‘hello’ and then a couple hours after that ‘okay,’ ‘goodnight’
the ringtone lets me know I have a text message
I see a message from an old friend
‘I really miss you a lot right now.’
I send ‘yea, I was always most comfortable with you’
there is the ringtone ‘sorry I meant that for Tiff’ I send ‘okay’ and go play a videogame
a train moves underground nearing the city
I step on the vehicle and invite you inside
there is a box under a staircase
the clouds move over the forest slowly
then crash against the mountains and hover above the lake
we go to different places on the earth and I don’t see you for a long time
I send an e-card with pictures of birds in trees
a submarine submerges and goes silent
water evaporates from the top of the ocean it starts to rain here
the water touches the inside of the bucket
a hand picks up the bucket
water touches the window
the empty bucket touches the ground
I sing to you from inside the sonar
a crowbar touches a forehead and
the forehead touches the grass

some of the best poetry of the 70s-90s, pure grit of the USA (try playing all of them at once)


I got Elvis On the Line

Don't Smoke!!!

Just Hold On To The Biggest Back in the World And I will Dog Paddle Us, Backstroke Us to Saftey

I Have Come To Do No One No Harm

I am the Reality of Death

1988 - I've Got the House, the Cars, and the Girls

Joe "the Golden Bear" Lindsay helped me find some of these. We talked on instant messenger. He is working on a paper about Chris "The Rabid Wolverine" Benoit exploring the brain trauma Benoit sustained as a professional wrestler. There will be some history and some context. I got him to agree on instant messenger to let me post it here in sections. So soon there will be sections of the Golden Bear's take on the Benoit tradgedy. I am excited about that being here. Also there will soon be a slideshow where the grey person plots to put yetis in a pool of coins and double fourtunes. There is some light here, and I am not that thirsty. The kittens are behaving and growing up. I put some wet food on the plate and suddenly it was gone. I am impressed.

The grey person returns home to find the kitten has turned into a catperson.