Here's some less scuky photos of my arm

What's up, sluts.

That's not a question. I just remember driving around with my old friend Wiley after swim practice one day in his '61 Falcon, out shirts off, thinking we're cool, blasting Zao, and being stopped at a stoplight where these two girls were waiting to cross the street, and, just before we pull away at the green light, Wiley's little brother Wes pops his head out the front window from the back seat, right next to my ear, and yells at them, "What's up sluts!" and just starts dying in the back seat. We were seniors, he was a freshman, so we played it cool--told him it wasn't funny and didn't laugh until we dropped him off at home and we went to the vollyball game at the rival school or whatever. Obviously we didn't go in to see the game, but just drove around and around the parking lot, mobbin', creepin' up to girls and yelling right behind them,

What's up, sluts.



Today's been a long, lame one; I needed to retell a story like that to keep me going. On an up note, I'm writing a lot this week, and so far it's all been in one poem. If this keeps up I could have an epic on my hands (until I realize it sucks and use it to paper mache a baby jesus for Halloween (I'm up for workshop that day, and so is a girl in my class, Mary, so we're doing the whole nativity thing). I'm reading the poem *Changing Light at Sandover* right now on the side, and if you need something new to pick up, man--do this thing.

loves around, dear friends

Hey, oooo

Finally have the arm outlined. Boy, it's been slow-movin' up in Mesa.


I've been really busy with school, but it's really becoming exciting, and I'm very glad to be here.

I made a book for my brother Dan for his birthday. It took about a month longer than I expected, but I finally finished it today. I don't know if you can see in the photos, but I did everything from folding the pages, sewing them by hand, binding it together, then covering it all up. I don't want to give it away.


Here's a photo of the bike I built up for Lindsey.

cha cha cha Chia.

Yesterday after my little poetry workshop (where we all talked like we were on hallucinogens about whimsical words and all that sort of crap), I went down to the Rec Center or whatever to do a little runnie-poos and row machine. I was kind of pent-up with from sitting all morning in a wood-lined room being all hippie-dippy, so I ran pretty hard, rediscovered Strongarm's first album (I've been listening to Advent of a Miracle a lot lately), and even hiked a fake mountain on some climbing machine that lets you pretend to climb whatever you want (I normally stay clear of doing any sort of workout that involves computers). I get out to my bicycle and the tire is flat and since I wasn't planning on doing anything but running I didn't bring my Tire Fixing Gear, so I ended up running home, then running back with said Gear. I'm not telling you this so you'll feel bad or because I think you'll find deep meaning or anything--it's just what I did yesterday. Oh, and the fat girl in my philosophy class just got a MacBookPro, which is lame--I hate to just sit there and watch as her greasy fingers pretend to take notes. We all know she's really just watering the Chia Pet on her dashboard to make it fat, just like her. Man.

ZOO

So, I haven't been to the zoo since I've been a vegetarian, which, save a very brief introductory stint at CBU and the momentary initial lack of judgment involved therein, has been ten years. That's wired. Anyway, Onna loves animals so freaking much and Lindsey and I were trying to decide what sort of really fun family thing we could to yesterday, so we ended up at the Tucson Zoo. (Matt, Phx is next on the list, no worries.) So it's been at least ten years since the zoo for me, and I have to admit to having a really great time. I don't know if this holds for anywhere else, but in Tucson you can get so close to the animals that it's almost unnerving. And then there's just turtles and whatever running around in what can't be called proper stalls or cages or whatever. Take, for example, this photo we captured of these two feisty animals doing the Mookie Blaylock in the middle of the lawn for everyone to see. Seriously, the littlest kids were just laughing 'cos they didn't know what was shakin' down. But the six year olds had hypothesis and more. "Aaah! Mom, the turtles are fighting! Dylan--come'ere and check out the fighting turtles!..." I wasn't the only dad to snap a quick photo, obviously.

School's going better. I met with some good poets today outside of my workshop and we got a lot of positively artistic things accomplished. It was the first time I really felt like I belonged here and was appreciated by the other people in the program. It's probably just my being insecure, but either way, it's good to feel like you're earning your keep.

Spork 5.1

Yes, friends, the most slaying and arts&crafts literary journal is releasing a new issue this weekend. Spork issue 5.1. I recently took a bookbinding class from one of the founding editors and lead binder, Drew, at the UA Poetry Center, and I now possess the skills needed to make a fine, lasting, useful, simple--yet beautiful--hardbound book. This new issue of theirs has been bound at Club Congress nonstop for the past three days, and there are pieces of cut-up paintings on each cover, from what I hear. (I should be getting mine in the mail this weekend.) I've recently submitted some poems to them, and I'd be happier than a terd freely floating downstream if they took some of my poems.

The three of us are slaying along down here in the Old Pueblo. I have just completed a bicycle build up for L. She's been wanting a feisty, hip, non-"girlbike" bike for a little while, and so last week we hit up the BICAS bike co-op down here and found her a cool old black Peugeot that I stripped all the stuff off of, just leaving the frame and cranks and a few other little things (brakes, headset, etc.) and found some bitchin' steel handlebars and some good cloth bartape all that sort of crap, and ended up with a bike that I'm really proud to say I built up. Most importantly, though, she's really excited about it, she's riding it and trying to remember what it's like to work a bicycle on the road (you know, they say you never forget, and that's fine and true, but initially, riding in the street and using brakes and getting on/off gracefully isn't automatic...). We've been looking for a good trailer for Onna at a fair price for a while, but it's one of those things that everyone wants to find barely used; I've been told that we're just buying a new one if I don't come up with a good deal soon on craigslist.

I haven't been able to get up to Phoenix for a sitting in a few weeks, and I'm sick of people thinking I'm just one of those dudes with a bad sticker tattoo on my arm. I'm excited for Adam to post some pictures of his stuff, too (soon! soon!). OK, I'm taking Little One to story time at the library. Keep it real (and posi-core) out there in the computer-abyss.

In a one horse open slay

My first batch of poems is being discussed in workshop tomorrow. I hate to sound like a silly parent, but I really hope that everyone in my workshop reads them carefully and thinks about them. It's difficult enough to put your little creations out there for everyone to lace into, the least you can hope for is well thought insight. There are ten pages and like six poems, and I'm really interested in what everyone has to say.

Last night I was reading submissions at the Sonora Review (the literary journal that the MFAers here put out) and I came across a submission from a girl I know in the MFA program at ASU. I was in Norman Dubie's workshop with her last fall, and she was kind of an asshole the few times she bothered talking to me, even in a casual environment. Thankfully the poems she sent in were not very strong, and someone else had already "no'd" them, which means that my no would be the one that killed the submission. If they were good I would have wanted to kill it anyway but wouldn't have, which would have made me pissed a little bit. Being as they were it was with a happy heart that I put them in the kill pile. I guess it just goes to show you not to be an asshole to people in your classes.

I wish this book had the Mammal Bar in it...

It's been raining all morning, like it would in January or something, where you wake up and you know it's been raining all night, and the thunder is big and outside smells just like you'd expect everything to smell while you're listening to American Football. I can't believe how much it has been raining down here--yesterday I was at the UofA Poetry Center, you know, doing the reading thing in their library, and it was just as bright and sunny as any day when you get backne from the riding of your bicycle. Then, only in Arizona, it started pouring something awful, but it stayed bright and sunny the entire time. I rode home in cutoff dickies, a rainjacket (which I always keep in my bag now) and sunglasses. Sillyness.

Anyway, this week I read a book called Twilight of The Mammoths, about how the Clovis Hunters may have caused catastrophic extinction of the large animals of North America. Man, I actually tried really hard to get into this one, but there were only so many hundreds of pages about fossil poop with Juniper berries in it that I was willing to take with a happy heart.

Weekend wonders: Daddy blunders.

We went on a walk to get some coffee at Epic (the place with the really, really ugly hip chick) this morning. Inbetween Epic and our place exists a number of large, impressive, neo-classical buildings that house some frats or whatever. It was overcast and cool and smelled like it may rain. It felt almost coastal, but with the best part of the Sonora mixed in--that desert rain smell that's just so sexy, it's one of the best smells ever. I really do think it is a sexy, sexy smell. So, just as we're walking by the back on one of the frat houses, the back gate of the place opens up and out walks this young, pretty girl in a skirt and messy hair holding her pointy party shoes from the night before. This is at like 6:45am, here. And she walks out the back gate and starts walking back toward campus holding her shoes. We just looked at each other after she walked by--I mean we were right there when she came out of the gate--and about died. I kid you not, it was one of those archetypal moments that every American should witness before they die.

In other news, yesterday my moms came down to see us. We went for breakfast at some little cafe by our house where they have a courtyard and a little, historic fountain. Onna wanted to go see the fountain, so I said ok and just kind of kept an eye on her from our table. So, she starts to try climbing up the wall for the fountain which makes me decide to get up to be a little closer to her because of the water and all. There were the usual Saturday Morning Cyclists sitting all around having coffee and talking about their bank accounts and their new carbon fiber bicycles and all. Some lesbians walking dogs, you know what I'm talking about. And Onna's pretty freaking quick, so she was on top of the wall dancing around before I was even close, and in--obviously--slow motion I saw her start backing up when she saw I was coming toward her, and when I was about ten feet away she ran out of wall and fell backwards into the fountain, sinking like a little pebble. Well everyone in the courtyard lost their crap because everyone was watching her dance up there because she's so freaking cute and all, so now they're just loosing it something awful, but, you know me, I play it cool because I used to lifeguard and in about 1/3 of a second I'm scooping her out of the water and she's a little scared and all, but she's definitely fine. After about twenty seconds of holding me around the neck and crying a little because she was scared she says, "Daddy, I fell down and drank the water." Man, my heart sank like the pebble she sank like. So, fortunately, we had some extra clothes for her, I changed her, and after breakfast we went back to the fountain and she played a little more, with me right over her shoulder.

in response to matt's sick and awesome post about kilnemia's tour...

Ok, I've been flipping through the old photos the past few days while we've been settling into our new place, and was a little confused after hearing Matt's take on Britney. So, here's a few kind of funny and fitting polaroids of the thing called a tour. I hope you guys think back on that time as fondly as I do--it was one of the best times of my life and I'm glad I was able to share it with each and every one of you.