Friday, December 13, 2013

let me get a friggin' good look at ya

dead before we began

keep on friggin' in the friggin' world.

thursday december 19th
'wait...what?' presents: 69...ALL THE TIME.
dust off your weird 'eyes wide shut' shit and spit shine your electra complex.  come out to 
le rouge (3405 n i35) at 8:30 for our last austin based reading before my descension into darkness.
this month i asked our 18 AND UP horny co-eds to incorporate a piece involving 'something sex' into their reading time. i made everyone feel pretty awkward about it. abou tit:

-michael davidson
-joseph green
-lauren klotzman
-no glykon
-cheryl couture
-andrew hilbert
-justin davidson
-spencer garland
-ivan brave
-angel trevino

i was going to write what it would be like to fuck henry rollins. 
i thought about our foreplay; talking shit about greg ginn and me pretending i knew what politics are. i decided against it. 
even writing about fucking henry rollins was boring.  

i'm also currently working on something for a friend's...skateboarding...magazine...


Tuesday, November 26, 2013

friggin' from now on.

see gull
he climbed up a fire escape.
she followed him up the fire escape.
she imagines herself climbing up this fire escape, for an infinite amount of time. she’s ready to start her new life, climbing up a fire escape behind him.
during the rest of her life, she closed her eyes and imagined staring up at a seagull. she was alone, standing on a dock, the water was still and humming, the horizon was flat, everything seemed inactive. she could smell the static.
she reached up to the seagull and asked, ‘can you take me with you?”
the seagull told her, ‘I want to fly around the docks. I have no place to go.’
she told the seagull about her irrational fear of drowning.
the seagull told her, ‘there isn’t anywhere else to go but down.’
she felt like a champion amongst seagulls.
he stopped climbing and she stopped behind him.
he turned around.
he told her he felt like a seagull that was flying around the docks with no place to go.

she told him to keep climbing.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

friggin' it, just a little bit.

what happened? 

just kidding.

'wait...what?' drinks a 24 oz modelo in a 2000 elantra, parked in a bay of a self serve car wash

on november 7th, i held a reading at a self serve car wash.

1  car
0 weed brownies
6  :(



michael davidson (tiny toe press)
Tearing myself away for long enough to leave proof of my existence.
If you say it right in the first sentence you only have to write a few more.
There is no such thing as too many fireworks.
I want to melt in your mouth until you can’t swallow.
Imagine being in an air-tight room with a girl wearing cloying perfume.
The banana you gave me saved me from passing out.
Every day I realize there are no more words for me to learn.
Stop yawning you’re making me yawn.
Shut the door I want to touch you.
So much about life has to do with sealing yourself away from danger.
If you ask me whether or not you were screaming I won’t answer.

andrew hilbert (his shit)

cheryl couture
 (cheryl's cool shit)

I Want to Fuck My Coworker: Inspired by Actual Events

Baby, you're a goddamned unicorn.
I've only experienced this instantaneous lust, 3? Maybe 4 times. Tops.
We've never held an actual conversation, just awkward waits around the time clock.
Or when you buy bee pollen for your smoothies.
By-the-way, whatever that shit does, it's working.
See, I like to fuck personality.
And you don't appear to have one.
But I can tell by your gait, something's swinging low.
I've had men of your stature before.
Them forearms don't lie.
I can't help it.
I catch you in my peripherals, or more extremely when I'm staring you down aisle 4.
I trace every inch of invisible anatomy into memory,
And rarely do I break even when you catch me.
I wonder if you notice, or how you couldn't possibly notice?
My chest heaves, my bedroom eyes daring you at every turn, even when you're innocently breaking down boxes.
My inappropriate fantasies of you get me through long spans of oppressive tedium.
I long to melt the walk-in.
I ache to desecrate the Organic Produce Only sink.
You ever rail her on the bailer? You could on our paid break.
I think you might have a lady.
You've been dressing nicer at the end of your shift.
Leaving me behind with a six-pack of Pumpkin Ale under your arm.
Whoever she is, she ain't me.
Sexually unbreakable as oak.
Trust that it won't take me 3 harvest beers to get weird.
Bonus points?
You don't have to prove me any emotional alliance.
That's not what I want you for.
You had me at not speaking.
This isn't a crush.
Or unrequited love.
You just strike me as the kind of man I could get under.
Some day I'll find my in.
Hell, your in as well.
Be it next month or next year.
Probably at some boozey work function.
Or maybe when something apocalyptic traps us in the store,
Forcing us to repopulate the world.
Your guard will be down and I will strike.
One way or another. Imma get that dick.

no glykon (his real hand)

the horror... the horror...
I watched a snail crawl along the edge of a straight razor. That's my dream; that's my nightmare. Crawling, slithering, along the edge of a straight razor... and surviving.
"I watched a snail crawl along the edge of a straight razor. That's my dream; that's my nightmare. Crawling, slithering, along the edge of a straight razor... and surviving." me one second ago
""I watched a snail crawl along the edge of a straight razor. That's my dream; that's my nightmare. Crawling, slithering, along the edge of a straight razor... and surviving." me one second ago" me one second ago
and so on
okay also janey smith @htmlgiant wrote something about us working at the car wash, yea:
ch ch ch check it out the next 'wait...what?' is almost completely confirmed for december 19th. if you want to read at one or none of these things, or tell me something you think is dumb, email me:

ps. 69...ALL the time.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

me and my friggin' roommate write something cool together.

when I pooped in my own butt, things started feeling weird…
covered in grey shapes, scary things in the mirror.
they hit a dumpster.
they wanted to know if they only deserved garbage.
only ate garbage.
only slept on garbage.
only loved garbage.
being what it would.
knowing how it would be.
trying to not be made being seem normal.
but it was normal.
ice cream.
ice cream.
ice cream looking like garbage
the only reason to eat ice cream.
it was a weird color.
the color of a lightning storm.
the storm overcame an initial ‘hoopla’.
soon the popularity contest blew over.
blowing someone in a pile of garbage.
sensual sense.
garbage sense..
cabbage cents.
sources seem scantily clad.
I wanted some skin to show
sunshine, take me in.
darkness, take a loop.

grey day, take a toad.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

friggin' comedy is no longer a big friggin' deal.

last night, i did a 'stand up comedy' routine. 

i drank 47 beers and was sweating from my armpits a lot, so i'm sure that all translated well.

here's one thing i read:

i'll never forget you, teenage goth girl
if I was best friends with a teenage goth girl…

I would finally be able to relate to someone.

she would know me in a way that that nobody else did.

my best friend teenage goth girl is my spirit animal.

we would get dropped off at the mall, and we would walk around while we were pouting.

we would walk around and feel disappointed in  everything.

we would sit alone, together, in the food court.

people would misunderstand us.

we would consolidate our black clothes.

I would impress her by slamming my bedroom door when my mom told me dinner was ready.

we wouldn’t wear trench coats.

we would listen to siousxxxxxe and the banshees together.

we would day dream about our tombstones resting next to each other.

mine reading ‘quothe the raven.’

hers, ‘nevermore.’

we would go to cvs, and put matching black lipsticks in our pockets.

the cvs security guard would stop us at the door.

escort us to the back of the store.

point to us on the surveillance video, stealing our black lipsticks.

 while I silently wept into my $25.99 black lace veil, the cvs security guard called my best friend teenage goth girl’s single mom.

2 hours later, I would watch her get thrown into the back of her mom’s minivan.
virgina slim in hand, waving at me, as she said, ‘see what happens when you wanna look like fucking freaks’.

I would never see my best friend again.

Friday, October 18, 2013

wait...what? presents: sad sad sad fest

this friggin' month we're going to the friggin' car wash.

november 7th is the first official day of fun fun fun fest. 
come to sad sad sad fest.
it's at the self serve car wash on MLK and AIRPORT BLVD.
and it starts at 6:30pm.
and the following beautiful babies will be reading:

andrew hilbert
cheryl couture
michael davidson
johnny pitt
joseph green
no glykon
lizzy yzzil
alicia fyne

beers will be offered for $1 (quarters or tokens only)

please bring a flashlight

come early to wash your car and figure out what sad sad sad fest it's all about.

Monday, October 14, 2013

no frig biggin' deal




The couch smelled weird.

‘I mean, does everyone have to smoke weed to ‘deal with it?’'

‘I like smoking weed because it’s making me stupid.’

‘The idea of making yourself stupid on purpose is funny.’

Air is weird.

‘I feel like a joke someone made about Eddie Vedder writing ‘pro-life’ on his arm on MTV.’

‘I wonder if anybody else thinks it’s funny that i’m smoking weed at 6:57 am, in my car, on the way to work, in the same way that I do.’

‘I guess ‘I hate myself’ is a funny joke.’

The car smelled weird.

‘Weed makes me feel awkward in a way that if I didn’t feel awkward, I would feel weird for not feeling awkward.’

‘Is it funny that I’m always uncomfortable? I think that’s funny.

‘I think it’s funny to not care about anything.

‘Is it fucked up that I don’t want any children?’

Kids are fucked up.

‘I want to give my parents a million dollars.’

‘Would that make them happy?’

I want to be a window.

‘Is everything weird when you smoke weed?’

'‘Is everything weed?’ is funny.’

‘Everything is weird right?’



Saturday, October 12, 2013

no friggin' free bird.


if i was a mountain, i would hope that  you would be a million insects.

i want to sit on a bench and yell.

i want you to lean in, very close to me, and tell me what outer space is, as if i didn’t know what outer space was.


i made my bed today.

i bought myself flowers.

i want to feel golden.

i want to yell ‘I’M GOLDEN’.

i want to sit on a bench and yell at a passing bus.


i want to stare at a bowl of spaghetti with someone and tell them how good i feel.

i can only see you when i’m standing in the bathroom and you’re behind me.

sometimes, i see you right there.

standing by the door, in the bathroom.

sometimes, you’re. right. there.

sometimes i don’t want anything.
sometimes i want everything.
sometimes i don’t want anything.
sometimes i want everything.
sometimes i want nothing.
sometimes i want nothing.
i want you.
i want you.
i want you.
i want you.


Friday, October 11, 2013

no friggin' bird deal

here's another poem i wrote that i like in a way that is the standard amount of like to determine that you like something.


jamba juice
‘Is it weird that I used to love you?’

‘I think it’s weird that when I look at you, I don’t think ‘I love you’’.

‘Is that weird?’

I started saying our names over and over again until they rhymed.

 ‘When I’m nervous I fake a yawn.’

‘I feel most confident when I’m chewing gum.’

I still want you to think about me in a way that makes your head tilt to the side, and your eyes water up, and 
when you see me, I’m moving in slow motion, and I’m laughing and it’s fuzzy all around me.

When I saw you, I started laughing and moving in slow motion.

‘I always hope there’s something stuck in my teeth, because then things would make sense.’

‘I don’t make eye contact as a way of making eye contact.’

I made sure to make sure I didn’t look at you when I thought that you were looking at me, but when I looked, you weren’t looking at me and I can’t tell if that makes me feel empty or satisfied.

I don’t want you to love me, but I want you to remember that you loved me when you look or don’t look at me.

‘I always step on garbage on purpose when I’m walking to work.’

Look at how much fun I’m having. Are you looking at how much fun I’m having? Are you having as much fun as I’m having when you look at how much fun I’m having?

‘Do I have low self esteem? Am I an egomaniac?’

‘I think it’s weird that people act like pennies don’t really matter. Is science the opposite of that?’

I want to say hi to a million people when you’re looking at me. I want you to see me saying hi to a million people. 

I want you to know that if I wanted to, I could say hi to a million people.

‘I said hi to someone once and they just walked past me.’

I want to make sure you to see me leave first. I want you to think I have to go.

‘I should probably go.’

‘Wait, so, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown yesterday, so I called in sick to work and drove to a jamba juice. I parked in front of a jamba juice, rolled all my windows up and cried for an hour. Then I yelled for a half hour. Then I thought about how I feel like I only exist when my brain stops working, and then I laughed for a half hour. Bye.’

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

no big friggin' deals

i read too. so here's something by me. 


When I smoked a cigarette earlier today, I felt dumb. But I feel like everything I do is just really dumb.

She wondered what it would feel like being on a hot air balloon ride.

She thought about this one time she saw hot air balloons in the sky on a postcard when she was at some generic gift shop on a generic family summer vacation. She thought about how any activity that can be displayed on a post card, advertising the appeal of a place was probably boring in real, non-postcard life.

‘If someone mailed me a post card with hot air balloons on it, I would feel indifferent towards them.’

‘I think I’d only want to be on a hot air balloon ride for like 3 minutes. Maybe 4.’

‘I was just really scared of a bee. I swatted it away because it was in my way, and then I was really scared of it.’

Her hands looked really fucked up. They were hard and crooked and wrinkled. They were peeling and cut up. All the cracks were well defined. She lit a cigarette.

‘I feel like I would know what feeling respected felt like if everyone just left me alone.’

‘I want to sit in the direct sunlight for 10 minutes, 3 times a day.’

‘I want to sit down.’

She thought about someone, somewhere saying, ‘I want Direct TV’ and felt weird about that happening.

‘I called this lady at work that reminded me of my mom ‘dude’ and felt uncomfortable for 5 minutes.’

She thought about her life being 5 minute intervals of feeling uncomfortable.

She thought about people that referred to themselves as depressed and laughed.

‘’I’m depressed’ sounds so silly. ‘I’m depressed.’’

‘I mean, I’m depressed.’

‘Yea, so am I.’

She thought about people who liked to go skiing. She wondered if anyone’s been depressed while they were on 
their vacation, skiing.

‘So, why can’t we smoke on airplanes?’

‘I would tell people that they couldn’t smoke on an airplane during a conversation, and consider that ‘relating’.’

She thought about mailing everyone she knew a postcard that just said ‘bye’.

She wondered if everyone would think she was depressed if she did that.


no big friggin' deal

'wait...what?' gets maximum baja blastage and is in bed by 10 pm.

on september blahblahblah, i held a reading at taco bell.

8 beautiful babies.
10 baja blasts.
12 airplane sized bottles of rum.

this. is. what. happened.

(turn up for lizzy&joseph&demonicbear)

here's some more good friggin' baby stuff from the friggin' babies

-amy saul-zerby

is not forgetting
all the stupid fucking inside jokes
you made up together
the second worst part
is everything else.

-no glykon


As part of a bare, unsubstantial reality near priced-out, annihilated, fenced-off blocks of red earth waiting for development, while slowly walking the ghostly, numberless, all-embracing maze of alleys and streets, dirt and gravel and pavement, in abandoned, idle obscurity, standing inside a whispered, formless instance, thinking enormous, hazy thoughts of all the thoughts that could be outside her perspective, she gazes at her feet.

-unisa asokan
'A psychological thriller based on a dream of a film about vampires that soak blood through their skins in baths of blood, a concert promoter who is possessed by the devil, a stripper haunted by her own reality, and and other demons who interact in a web of the web while engaging the reader to listen'

-joseph green

You take the long odds
on a featherweight with
smooth ears
and bad teeth
from South Texas
because you read him say something about
in some 
sporting journal
and when he goes down 
in the eighth 
you don’t feel cheated because
it doesn't change a thing
about what he said
and really
that’s all you were betting on

to begin with

lizzy yzzil