Thursday, December 29, 2005


if it were just a little colder, it would be snowing. a lot.

future fish

this clip from the year 2014 is just bizarre. it makes my skin tingle in a ooooooh creepy sorta way.
as bloggie users, i'd say it's required viewing.

i was almost late for work because my dreams told me to turn my alarm clocks off

well, it wasn't quite like that - i apologized for the noise and offered to make it stop. that was that. the mind does funny things sometimes and i awoke with ten minutes to shower, dress, do hair, brush teeth, grab food and out the door - i did it in twelve, but only because i am now addicted to water - great large bottles of the stuff...

holidays are funny things, my christmas is stretching out and soon it will be my turn to play santa claus, dress up in a red suit and don't forget the beard - well, metaphorically speaking, anyways.

christmas started early for me with the trip to texas that i still must detail parts to you (like the amusing, if over-priced "uncommon objects boutique" or the instructions for a ritual i found on the ground at a gas station: "after the ceremony is over, return your hood and return to your pew").

it continued over the actual holiday (so the main reason i have been lax on the fish is that i have been playing Prince of Persia 3 - yes, i know, i have no life. but can you blame me? it's so damn cool!!!) and it's not over yet.

my family was unable to come to get together this december, as far flung as we seem to be, so it was decided that we would celebrate christmas at the end of January in LA. LA! ah, nothing quite like after-christmas sales and opening presents on the beach.

so since the pressure for pre-christmas family shopping fell away, the actual holiday snuck up on me and i realized that my friend here and there and all over the place will mostly be getting New Year's Gifts instead - something small and fun to start 2006 in a direction that i can only hope as up.

but that's ok, because it's not about christmas - it's about those little things that meant someone thought about you in this hectic time of year, when the most we want to do is curl up with a hot, spicy rum and cider and watch the fire flit and play in the fireplace. so no matter what the present nor when i give it, every one has a small bit of me in it - even this.

so, MERRY WHATEVERYOUWANTTOCELEBRATE! (or for short: HAPPY HOLIDAYS!)

love, mysfit

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

heroic fish

somehow during a sort of comment / conversation thing at 2 a.m. (no i haven't told a couch tale yet but i still may: i have a very interesting couch) i fondly recalled a poem i wrote way back in the autumn of double-aught, which was meant to be a piece in heroic couplets (except for that rhyming part, because i'm pretty open-ended about these sort of things) on the History of Life on Mars.* i couldn't thing of a damn thing but david bowie, wailing in my head "it's the freakiest shooooowww...is there life on maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaars?"
this was the result.


Untitled Martian Ballad

All I can think of Mars is David Bowie who
fills my homeric head with sequins; you see

many moons ago the powder currents in
fierce red rock carved a face in dust to stare

on a strange blue world and for the entertainment
of martian ices the rust planet invented

eyeshadow and heroin and sent gaunt
glamour to tease us with epics of spacemen

and alien eyes and now when I try to write
one heroic song on the life and times of

red red mars I see a feline hypnoglitter
cold rock star dressed in metallic fumes who

sings about spiders in my brain and endless
scifi wonderlands smoking cigarettes and

gyroscopes in defiance of earthbound
telescopes and my technic science is lost in

shining stage language star rocket sex and
dazzle steals red biology from my tongue.


*it was a rather interesting creative writing class i took at Rutgers (with a very interesting young man who arrived in very interesting circumstances, which is a fish for another day) during what came to be the Autumn of the Form Poem.
you name it, i wrote it: sonnets, centos, sestinas, pantoums, villanelles, in memoriams. don't know what came over me.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

a glimpse of fish


boardwalk musician, Mississippi Avenue.

Atlantic City is a microcosm. it is also surprisingly direct in its approach, considering the proximity of the ocean. i like the sound of walking on the boardwalk.

stream-of-consciousness fish after having vanished from the net for a bit

as though i were an extra-clever dolphin, but really it had to do with fields of numbers, though on the surface it was something else entirely, more like children's books or something reel-to-reel. the purpose of holiday gifts is to embolden the generous impulse, the bright side of what everyone else is doing; it revitalizes our tired little lives, all thin & cold after so much experience, with shiny things, new things, things we've never had before, things to read & puzzle over & take measurements of & fit into a space. new things in a space make a new space. i have too many theories about space. i am eating cherry almond bread; it's delicious but wants to be something else. like me, perhaps, only not really. i am not the Black Swan chardonnay i am drinking, which is not as bad as it sounds. sometimes home can be more like home than ever, just as sometimes the sea disappears in the fog diffused by streetlights, or how sometimes there is never enough time. maybe i have too many Plans. i wish i had a collection of those little pinecones that fell from the infinite hedge on Linden Avenue, they were tiny & perfect like tea roses, who never answer my messages. i wish i understood the dream about the vampires running a restaurant, or the dirty looks in the old bar--actually, no, those i understand, but the immortal lives of small pumpkins i do not. i feel personally responsible when my camera fails me. how to capture a drop of water, a microsecond?

Thursday, December 22, 2005

mysfit's triumphant return

hello hello hello


i have missed the fish with surprising intensity in the week of my absence. i realize i told no one (NO ONE) that i was leaving for a week-long trip through the lone-star state and i'm not sorry. but i had a fun trip full of chaos, kids, food and livestock... yes folks, livestock. (don't worry, i return to CO with no more of an accent than I left with, though will one more pair of boots.)

i look forward to regaling you with harrowing tales of cowboys and chickens and factory people:
and why it's vindicating to have a 2-month-old fall asleep in your arms (careful "they're catching" - no no nononono way) and how much the analogy prevalent in the chronicles of narnia gets obnoxious in later books (audio books are the best for 16-hour drives)...

i'll tell you what - you just keep your pretty little faces tuned to the fish and the tourist for more adventures and photographic proof of my journey through the panhandle.



(p.s. there will also be more imaginary adventures coming out of the chaos journals, if you're not careful...)


oh and HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

mysfit signing out

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

if you can't write an ode to what you're really thinking:

PABLO NERUDA

ODE TO WINE

Day-colored wine,
night-colored wine,
wine with purple feet
or wine with topaz blood,
wine,
starry child
of earth,
wine, smooth
as a golden sword,
soft
as lascivious velvet,
wine, spiral-seashelled
and full of wonder,
amorous,
marine;
never has one goblet contained you,
one song, one man,
you are choral, gregarious,
at the least, you must be shared.
At times
you feed on mortal
memories;
your wave carries us
from tomb to tomb,
stonecutter of icy sepulchers,
and we weep
transitory tears;
your
glorious
spring dress
is different,
blood rises through the shoots,
wind incites the day,
nothing is left
of your immutable soul.
Wine
stirs the spring, happiness
bursts through the earth like a plant,
walls crumble,
and rocky cliffs,
chasms close,
as song is born.
A jug of wine, and thou beside me
in the wilderness,
sang the ancient poet.
Let the wine pitcher
add to the kiss of love its own.

My darling, suddenly
the line of your hip
becomes the brimming curve
of the wine goblet,
your breast is the grape cluster,
your nipples are the grapes,
the gleam of spirits lights your hair,
and your navel is a chaste seal
stamped on the vessel of your belly,
your love an inexhaustible
cascade of wine,
light that illuminates my senses,
the earthly splendor of life.

But you are more than love,
the fiery kiss,
the heat of fire,
more than the wine of life;
you are
the community of man,
translucency,
chorus of discipline,
abundance of flowers.
I like on the table,
when we're speaking,
the light of a bottle
of intelligent wine.
Drink it,
and remember in every
drop of gold,
in every topaz glass,
in every purple ladle,
that autumn labored
to fill the vessel with wine;
and in the ritual of his office,
let the simple man remember
to think of the soil and of his duty,
to propagate the canticle of the wine.

i could threaten to cut down your orchard, if you like.


a joyful winter solstice to fishes on this long dark night...

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

the apartment is my blanket & i am hiding beneath it

the white wine wakes me up & puts me to sleep again.
the spaceships come, the spaceships go, the space cowboys always notice the right things, with guns at the back of their eyeballs or under the elbow.
it has something to do with the movement of wild horses, not unlike the movement of flocks of birds. flocks of spaceships. herds of spanish wine.
even the cat understands that under the blanket is a kind of elsewhere.

Saturday, December 17, 2005


a fish's holiday collage.

in the category of the unlikely


ap photo

everyone's seen this, right?

so what if the fish is following poets these days...

a piece by Thomas Hardy

Lonely her fate was,
Environed from sight
In the house where the gate was
Past finding at night.
None there to share it,
No one to tell:
Long she'd to bear it,
And bore it well.

Elsewhere just so she
Spent many a day;
Wishing to go she
Continued to stay.
And people without
Basked warm in the air,
But none sought her out,
Or knew she was there.
Even birthdays were passed so,
Sunny and shady:
Years did it last so
For this sad lady.
Never declaring it,
No one to tell,
Still she kept bearing it -
Bore it well.

The days grew chillier,
And then she went
To a city, familiar
In years forespent,
When she walked gaily
Far to and fro,
But now, moving frailly,
Could nowhere go.
The cheerful colour
Of houses she'd known
Had died to a duller
And dingier tone.
Streets were now noisy
Where once had rolled
A few quiet coaches,
Or citizens strolled.
Through the party-wall
Of the memoried spot
They danced at a ball
Who recalled her not.
Tramlines lay crossing
Once gravelled slopes,
Metal rods clanked,
And electric ropes.
So she endured it all,
Thin, thinner wrought,
Until time cured it all,
And she knew nought.

Thursday, December 15, 2005

some thoughts on the morning

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak!

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

abstract fish


(more fish photos on the tourist.)

this fish returns, with some things accomplished or felt, noticed, kept or dismissed. if not now, then how would i tell you about all the space news?
but for now, i present to you two poems.


ANDRÉ BRETON

LESS TIME

Less time than it takes to say it, less tears than it takes to die; I've taken account of everything, there you have it. I've made a census of the stones, they are as numerous as my fingers and some others; I've distributed some pamphlets to the plants, but not all were willing to accept them. I've kept company with music for a second only and now I no longer know what to think of suicide, for if I ever want to part from myself, the exit is on this side and, I add mischievously, the entrance, the re-entrance is on the other. You see what you still have to do. Hours, grief, I don't keep a reasonable account of them; I'm alone, I look out of the window; there is no passerby, or rather no one passes (underline passes). You don't know this man? It's Mr. Same.
May I introduce Madam Madam? And their children. Then I turn back on my steps, my steps turn back too, but I don't know exactly what they turn back on. I consult a schedule; the names of the towns have been replaced by the names of people who have been quite close to me. Shall I go to A, return to B, change at X? Yes, of course I'll change at X. Provided I don't miss the connection with boredom! There we are: boredom, beautiful parallels, ah! how beautiful the parallels are under God's perpendicular.



WALLACE STEVENS

DISILLUSIONMENT OF TEN O’CLOCK

The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
Or green with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches Tigers
In red weather.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

sexy fish

small silver poem-fish

some old poetry, cause, hey, what else am i going to do with it? (yay bloggie spacing!!!!!!)

    eyes stray avoiding crush contact
         teeth constant grinning
                                   stars
         and when you say my name
         i jolt
               out of

               into
                    Damogen
                                  (or is it Io?)
         Jupiter moons alighting
                    hydrogen tunes
                                 i could fade in that smile
         i’ll catch a ride with you
         one day
                   and i’ll—
                              i’ll—
                                  i’ll
         say nothing
         do nothing
                       wading daisies in my
                                            sundress sonata
         what will you do?

Monday, December 12, 2005

tagged, i guess my fish is "it"

yes, well, tesco tagged me again (that bastard) and here's another meme - at least this one is short.

5 random things (about my little fish)

1) food - i became a vegetarian when i was 11 years old and only started eating fish about 2 years ago. so i'm not sure what i am now.

2) clothes - when i was little i refused to wear pants and believed that jeans were evil. i kept my only pair in the bottom drawer, all alone and would not open it - until one day, i opened the drawer and left it open all night, so the evil could seep out. after that, i wore pants all the time and never looked back. to this day, i rarely wear skirts/dresses.

3) if i had the choice, i'd never be published under my own name.

4) people might say that i have no concept of time. this is incorrect. i don't believe in time and thus, have had to make up an arbitrary concept of time as a manmade idea used for convenience of interaction. thus, though i may not know what day it is or what time it is, i usually know where i'm supposed to be.

5) i hate people in a general sort of way.

as for tagging 5 more people... since a "meme" is a unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another(according to dictionary.com), i'm gonna let your mind pick up what my mind is transmitting and thus let you decide if this meme will be picked up by you.

Sunday, December 11, 2005

doodle-fish today : awaken

doodle-fish 87 : mask

Thursday, December 08, 2005

riddle me this

ergh - this would have gone up yesterday, but:

it was a dark, cold night. bloggie and IE came out of a bar and jumped into IE's truck - bloggie was driving. unfortunately, the truck had had too much to drink and the road jumped out from under it, so into a fence our two heroes went and you know what happened?

I lost two posts.

(ahhh hahaha - ok I know that sucked, so shut up)

the riddles went well so here's a few more:
Alive without breath,
As cold as death;
Never thirsty, ever drinking,
All in mail never clinking.
What is it?

so you're right. the man pictured above is none other than the infamous Riddler as played by Frank Gorshin in the original 1960's Batman TV series.
"I developed the Riddler's fiendish laugh at Hollywood parties." -Frank Gorshin, 1966

And this is one of his animated counterparts:
There was a green house. Inside the green house there was a white house. Inside the white house there was a red house. Inside the red house there were lots of babies. What is it?

here's another: "Riddle me this, riddle me that, who's afraid of the big, black bat?"
As much as Batman Forever sucked (Schumacher has his moments - Falling Down(1993) is fantastic - as does Val Kilmer - who doesn't like Tombstone(1993)? - but this isn't one of them), and paled in comparison to the Batman(1998) and the most recent one, Batman Begins, - Jim Carrey was perfect to play the Dark Knight's frustrating villain, just as Jack Nicholson was a fantastic Joker.

Many people over the years have bent their creative minds to one of my favorite comic book heroes. Unlike many superheroes, Batman has no super powers, just lots of money to buy cool toys that supplement his supreme physical condition and bright mind. He also has a dark side (or rather is Bruce Wayne's darkside), lives in a corrupt city and fights dirty for justice and revenge. Maybe this is why he replaced Superman as America's superhero darling - because he's what anyone could be with a lot of money and the desire to go vigilante. He's a hero in the shadows who uses the bad-guy's supreme weapon, FEAR, to fight crime - and boy, what great villains, eh? He's my kind of hero in my kind of stories.

What driver doesn't have a license?

i heard that groan - what's wrong? too easy? want more? well tease your brain with the 768 riddles you can find here or the hundreds of riddles and other mind-puzzles here but be warned: Edward Nygma may be hiding behind the www or even behind the .com

Monday, December 05, 2005

am i the one?


do you ever get the feeling the someone is watching the inside of your brain? no? oh, well ok.

anyways, my fish is whispering to me that too few people use their brains, so here's two riddles:

The beginning of everything,
The end of time and space,
The beginning of every end,
And the end of every place.
What is it?

The more it dries, the wetter it gets. What is it?

yes, i know. these are classic and not very hard. but hey, it's monday right? don't want to strain your brains too much.