daydream.disasters

I have nothing to say of my working life, only that a tie is a noose, and inverted though it is, it will hang a man nonetheless if he’s not careful.

– Yann Martel, Life of Pi

how often do you look down at a man’s feet?

the oft-talked about, dreaded and lauded internship began today with all of the fanfare that my unimpressive (but surprisingly shrill) dollar-store alarm clock could muster. from this day forth (until the termination of my lease) Gallery Watch owns my soul until August 11th. i’m arriving to all of this madness about a week late, thanks to the rigid finals’ schedule at Ohio University:

“Enter daily that thou may growst in bureaucracy, intoxication and apathy.

however, despite the relatively rocky start, methinks that i have my daily ritual down to a science after this morning — shower, brush my teeth furiously, don my monkey suit (i’ve never been one for suits, but needs must when the devil drives)….and put on my shoes. now, all of my life, Chuck Taylors and Tevas have been my weapon of choice. maybe the occasional track sneaker to break up the monotony, or go jogging once in a blue moon. but the bottom line is that comfort has consistently been at the top of my priority list. now that i’m wearing the dreaded suit and tie, i must soldier forth in patent-leather torture devices.

the Spanish Inquisition couldn’t have invented things like these if they’d tried.

square-toed implements of strangulation — these damn things have managed in the course of an afternoon to chew apart my heels in ways i didn’t think possible. i’ve hiked hundreds of miles with backpacks which way in excess of fifty pounds strapped to my back, and i’ve never had blisters like this. we’re talking three layers of skin gone in under fifteen minutes. walking past the Supreme Court and the Capitol on my way to work (which is a helluva incentive to rise like a morning glory), i wasn’t contemplating the ridiculous amount of marble that had to be carted into the District, or the imposing beauty of the neo-classical architecture. all of my cognitive processes were focused on two things:

i tell you truthfully my friends, you have never experienced the buildings of our American legislature until you have limped through every god-forsaked hallway, stairwell, elevator, escalator and checkpoint wondering if your shoes are slowly filling up with blood. these are the things that they don’t tell you. when they send soldiers into battle, the COs always warn the men to bring enough pairs of dry socks. a solid case of trench foot will knock a man from combat as readily as a bullet, or so i’ve been told.

everyone whose father is begrudged to wear a suit to work knows about those “old-man sneakers” that hide out in his closet. the imitation-leather, solid black affairs that remind one of either elementary school or geriatrics. at the age of 21, i’m already beginning to see their appeal. these are scary times, my friends.

i never thought that gangrene would be a job hazard for reporters.

if you’ve never read the outlaw bible of american poetry, then i would posit that you don’t know jack about american poetry

that probably sounds horribly elitist, and god forbid we should deal in absolutes, but if you think that the majority of american poets are sitting around in gentile coffee houses — you’ve got another thing coming. in the tradition of wild men like Allen Ginsberg, or eccentrics like William Carlos Williams, the poets in this anthology are the real deal. one of the most severely underappreciated of them is the now-deceased David Lerner (leader of the Cafe Barbar in San Francisco). this excerpt from his poem “Mein Kampf” still gives me chills. READ it if you want your mind blown.

i’ve been losing my hearing for years.

since high school i’ve played guitar in a variety of and bands of miscreants. some were better than others, and all have contributed to the slight buzz in my inner ear. however, i’m finally in a group that looks like they could finally make a splash of some variety (it’ll probably be a tiny one). Kaslo is the name of the outfit — a moniker which was selected at random from a World Atlas. to that end, we’ve been in the studio for the past 6 months. just a few weeks ago, out drummer (Luke Brevoort) made a teaser video incorporating some of the tracks that we’ve finished.

please enjoy this shameless self-promotion