“The poet is a sacred parasite”


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You write book now

Hello computer nerds. I want you all to write and to keep writing, to write forever, even after death. Heaven is writing and so is hell—so get started.


This Coffitivity place will put you in the center of action even though you are not on campus or in Starbucks. The scholarly sounds will thrill you. The professors murmuring in the background will bring you to the light of knowledge. Knowledge = Power.


Rainfor.me has a nice image of a tree, and I love trees so I go here just to look at the tree with the sound off. But with the sound on – Thunderstorm! Not really. It’s a gentle storm. Very relaxing. Good splashing sounds.


August Ambiance is good if you like bugs and weird shit in the summer night. I don’t like the sound of bugs or the look of them. This motherfucker will drive you nuts.


This is the gayest entry into writing production. There are images of snowflakes with the option of playing piano music from the 1800s. If you use this one, I do not want to read your book.


This snowy one is much better. It sounds like a murderer is following you on Christmas Eve.


I entreat you. Please step into the Virtual Shower. The sounds of this shower nozzle are entirely adjustable. It is like doing the real thing except you will still smell like a rotten ass afterwards. But, Jesus, this is golden. The song on the radio is a real whizz banger. Oh yes!


A Soft Murmur is not murmurs. There is a ton of shit here. But my favorite is the singing bowl.


Calm.com is one of my favorites. It is like the voice of God. Your writing will excel by listening to this ecstasy of light and sound.


SOUNDROWN has some of the same bullshit as Soft Murmur. But nowhere else can you listen to the sounds of a playground unless you are a creepy ass that goes down to the playground.


Noisli features more of the same with the addition of what is either a fan or a trolling motor. Also kinda sounds like Crocodile Dundee swinging that goddamn thing around on a rope from atop that hillside in the heart of the bush.


Simplynoise is just noise. There is pink, brown, and white noise. What in thee hell? Man, fuck this noise.


Blazinglogs is like a Yule log that burns the whole year round. Is very comforting until someone throws you into it. You probably should throw your writing into it.


And last of all I have save for you the best jolly bastard of them all. Just click on it. Savor the flavor my writing friends.

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A human bomb

D.H. Lawrence: An Unprofessional StudyD.H. Lawrence: An Unprofessional Study by Anaïs Nin

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Some person reviewed this book stating that it can’t be used for a college paper. I wish less college papers were written and replaced with works of love. The reviewer is probably correct though. This book is titled “unprofessional” aptly and flourishes because of it, because Nin was extraordinarily gifted with an intuition into the creator’s mind.

Lawrence is a challenge to pinpoint. The act is nearly impossible (as Henry Miller would attest). The reason is that he is not a writer that attempts to explain but to insert his volatile emotion into his characters and his writing. Like Nin says, he tries to work from a dark region of the psyche that is not entirely negative but difficult to grasp much less to solve.

One sentence of Nin’s that I like is very near to the end where she writes (speaking of Lawrence’s volatility), “It is a force which is always exploding and seeking to explode.”

Lawrence: “Well, all right then, if I AM finally a sort of human bomb, black inside, and primed; I hope the hour and the place will come for my going off: for my exploding with the maximum amount of havoc. SOME men have to be bombs, to explode and make breaches in the walls that shut life in. Blind, havoc-working bombs too. Then so be it.”

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Get yo ass gone

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T.M. – Bukowski


by Charles Bukowski

she lived in Galveston and was into
and I went down to visit her and we made love
continually even though it was very warm
and we took mescalin
and we took the ferry to the island
and drove 200 miles to the nearest
we both won and sat in a redneck bar—
disliked and distrusted by the natives—
and then we went to a redneck motel
and came back a day or two later
and I stayed another week
painted her a couple of good paintings—
one of a man being hanged
and another of a woman being fucked by a wolf.
I awakened one night and she wasn’t in bed
and I got up and walked around saying,
“Gloria, Gloria, where are you?”
it was a large place and I walked around
opening door after door,
and then I opened what looked like a closet door
and there she was on her knees
surrounded by photographs of
7 or 8 men
heads shaved
most of them wearing rimless spectacles.
there was a small candle burning
and I said, “oh, I’m sorry.”
Gloria was dressed in a kimono with flying
eagles on the back of it.
I closed the door and went back to bed.
she came out in 15 minutes,
we began kissing,
her larger tongue sliding in and out of my
she was a large healthy Texas girl.
“listen, Gloria,” I finally managed to say,
“I need a night off.”

the next day she drove me to the airport.
I promised to write. she promised to write.
neither of us has written.

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The Crusher

For Connor Michalek pro wresting was very real. His spirit is much larger than the entirety of those that wish to belittle or ruin. We all know those hateful assholes — the ones who try to tell others what to believe or feel, and constantly let them know what is real and what is fake. The ones that possess “knowledge.”

Here’s something for your academic journal:

We are all children to the great unknown.

We are all on a ride off the cliff to a mystery.

And to those that still want to be hateful about it — you will all hesitate before the immaculate soul of “The Crusher” when your philosophy fails you.

I bet my soul on it.

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Present impasse

“Over and over again I have said that there is no way out of the present impasse. If we were wide awake we would be instantly struck by the horrors which surround us. . . We would drop our tools, quit our jobs, deny our obligations, pay no taxes, observe no laws, and so on. Could the man or woman who is thoroughly awakened possibly do the crazy things which are now expected of him or her every moment of the day?”

—Henry Miller, in The World of Sex

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