old gear
i cracked open those old, old tape decks today. i think i‘ve had those things since 1994, and one of them has finally croaked while the other sounds like it might consume and digest my cassettes at any moment. time for presumed obsolescence of technological gadgets to move into the realm of assumed defunctery.
i have been writing this poem lately and last night before passing out i think i had the breakthrough it needed. now i have a narrative to inject into what i think is some pretty strong language. words. sturdy words. i could hardly get to sleep once the breakthrough arrived. i wanted to get up and type type type. but i thought i had an engagement today. plans. alas, it rained all day and the plans were rescheduled, but it‘s likely for the best that my stomach was not turned over by staying up till sunrise thrashing away under the delusion of inspiration when the harder work of revision is where it‘s at. well, if it‘s as i imagine then the leglessness of this poem will be cured. healed! walk!
i am sitting at an open-air place, watching the midtown office workers march home from the great collective Office over the river. “dumbasses!“ i shout at them. “fuck you all!“ i pump my fist and curse their spiteful lives. then i laugh, but the roar of the subway drowns that.
tuning out… tired today… so tired.
