The new issue of jubilat found its way to me this morning. I'll be finding my way to the toilet shortly. The toilet is where I do the bulk of my reading these days. It's the only place in my in-laws house that I can sit, have a bit of peace and loose my bowels.

My car was in the shop for 4 days and they didn't do anything to it. Yesterday I got tired of waiting and walked down there, went back behind the garage and took my car back. I don't know the legality of that particular situation, but 4 days for an oil change and a new tire seemed a bit much...that, and I'm a renegade.

I also got paid for my unused vacation days at work. I didn't know I had vacation days so I'd managed to accrue almost a months worth. I'm not unemployed, I'm on vacation...for one more week. Then I'm unemployed.

Last night I used every PayPal cent I had to pre-order a limited edition hardcover copy of Zachary Schomburg's new book. It's called Scary No Scary and you too can get it...but first, you must go here, because I can't do it for you. I would, in fact, The Man Suit has been my gift of choice for the last two years, but I think you should give it a shot yourself.

I'm reading in Cedar Falls, Iowa on July 25th. Details are forthcoming, i.e., do not yet exist.

I'm still looking for a place to live in Iowa City...have you heard of one?

On Tuesday, a big storm blew through the neighborhood, the poor bird above never realized that. I burried it. I think it was a bluejay, but I'm no orinthologist.

The most amazing thing about moving out of Chicago is remembering that there are such things as skies and they do super-cool tricks. These are just a few of the tricks they were doing last night.

In a Big Country

Iowa, on occasion, can fill you with awe. Clouds can be this pretty and then two hours later drop tornadoes like Mike D drops rhymes. Awesome...

In Iowa I drive like an asshole. In Iowa there is ample parking. In Iowa it only costs $28 to go to the vet. In Iowa you watch little league baseball games and tell kids to keep with it, turn hard and use two hands. In Iowa there is such a thing as fried cauliflower. In Iowa you finally have cell phone reception but still go outside to talk. In Iowa everybody wonders what you're doing there. In Iowa you tell them without actually answering there question. In Iowa your dog takes naps under trees while still, technically, on walks. In Iowa it is possible to buy 12-packs of Miller Lite tall boys without knowing it. In Iowa, after a few weeks, people will ask you to tell them again what you're doing in Iowa. In Iowa you always tell people to come and visit because there is no way to understand Iowa unless you're there, which is to say, come visit me in Iowa. In Iowa I will always have a place for you to stay.

Cannibal Books has a sale, you should check it out.

Moved away from Chicago this weekend and these are the things I was made to leave behind:

1. Hyde Park Records
2. Seminary Co-op Bookstore
3. Friends
4. The Blue Line
   
5. Reckless Records
6. The Med
7. My Apartment

My cast came off and what fell out was this:

CAConrad from joshuamarie on Vimeo.

RLM#9...go.

This is the sound of one-handed typing...shhh

Eileen Myles hates poetry...and so do I. Well, at least what the wider public's imagination conjures when they care to think of of poetry. I hate being embarrassed, or even conscious, of people's reactions when I tell them I'm going to study poetry. I also hate having to talk to people about Maya Angelou. I hate Maya Angelou and am tired of working real hard to not make you feel ridiculous for liking Maya Angelou. And though I agree with most of Myles' post, I hate when people bite the hands feeding them. I hate the commercialization of the MFA, but I love that I'm getting one and so, anything I say towards that has no credibility. I respect Eileen Myles...think that she is the last great bastion of punk sensibility in poetry, but c'mon, you can't rail against literary journals and be associated with the only one sold in most B&N and thusly, the most recognized journal in our culture. That's like the rich guy telling you how to be a better Christian...

Anyway, I packed up all my books last night. Six boxes of nothing but poetry books. It was like the time I transferred all my cd's into those travel books and realized for the first time that I'd accumulated over 900 albums; storing them differently changes your perspective, and clues you in to just how mad you are about certain things.