In other news, I am currently so sunburned that I'm wearing my bra outside of my clothes. It actually looks kind of good.

ART

Are you ready to see the worst painting that has ever reflected the light of this particular sun?


HA HA HA. I don't remember exactly when I painted this, but I'm pretty sure I was in high school, so: old enough to know that eyewhites are not usually taupe, old enough to know that skulls are not heart-shaped think-asses crowned with cascading hair. Her chest-skin is my favorite, so chunky and nice--I love the way it melts over her curls. This is what you get for raising your children to be super-Catholics, people: fake icons of dead-eyed sadwomen wearing so much lipliner. The implication, I think, is that Little Christ is probably hanging off one boob down there, showering us with his trademark mercy by remaining just out of frame.

A Note from My Mother

Apologies for my long absence--it turns out that when you live in a fancy town, people come visit you all day every day and then you never have time to write your Daniel Boone persona poems. Christ my life is hard!

This is the Beast Stein that I bought Elegant Choice for his birthday. It has a fox for a handle, as you can see, and boars in mid-leap, and one noble deer pronging another noble deer in the stomach. But where is the hunter? The hunter is the one who drinks from the stein. You are the hunter, and your presence is required in the scene! It's the most postmodern cup I've ever seen in my life. I could feel the presence of this Beast Stein pulsing in my neighborhood, but I wasn't sure exactly where it was, so I set out on foot to search for it. While I was walking, a lady in a minivan leaned out of her window and hissed SLUT at me. I can't tell what prompted it--my jeans, my cardigan, or the giant biography of Daniel Boone that I happened to be carrying.

One Day I Will Turn on You

Are you building a replica of me, in your home? Do you want it to be as realistic as possible? Here is some information: I know as a modern American lady I am supposed to want to smell like a pomegranate, but the truth is I am obsessed with Yes to Carrots because a) it has the craziest name of all, and b) it smells like the sweet old plastic of childhood dolls. Bear that in mind as you assemble my Scent.

Noos

My poems "There Is a Growing Movement, They Have Introduced a Motion" and "The Murder of a Man Who Took Weak Science for a Wife" are up at Past Simple 8, spooning with the all the bodies of Rebecca Loudon, yes! Stacy Elaine edited the issue and Josh Atlas contributed genital drawings. Also: Erik Anderson, Melissa R. Benham, Dan Chelotti, Alban Fischer, Richard Froude, Becca Jensen, Ken Mikolowski, Jesse Morse, Eileen Myles, Francis Raven, Chris O’Rourke, Jean Villepique, and of all people Charlyne Yi, who is here to tell us about vultures!

Whoa

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. Last week I mentioned Gulf Coast, and yesterday Gulf Coast accepted "That Bullfight in the Forehead, Those Black Eyes" for a future issue. You guys. Did I do The Secret without knowing it?

Found

Treacle for Young Bulls

There is no doubt that, in spite of all

the warnings that have been given,

................treacle is still used extensively

................................for breeding stock, notably

in forcing young bulls and heifers into blooming

........condition for show or sale. We are aware

........that it is included in the feeding mixture

for young bulls

..............in several of the leading herds of the day;

but in almost all these cases there is a skilful hand

at the helm, and the tasty but dangerous treacle

is given sparingly and judiciously, so as to benefit

the animals without impairing their fecundity.

We say "almost," because, unfortunately,

as we are also aware, there is too good reason

.....................................................to believe

that in some cases harm is really being done

to the breeding properties of young animals,

bulls more largely than heifers, by the too liberal

................................................and imprudent

........................................................use of treacle.

--lifted from The Book of the Farm, 1889, Henry Stephens

I Know What You Want, You Know Who You Are

Mad closeup of a cat-tit in this video