Ants have a way of finding themselves on picnic blankets. On mine especially–especially here in Italy. They look just like the ones back home, though they speak differently.

My mind is drawn to those other little items left at home yet found here all the same: my regret and my shame. Only my joy seems willing (perfectly willing) to remain in one place.

There are more ants on my blanket now. I consider napping but know this will not make them go away. They will only crawl over me. And, waking, I will turn a hand to find them just as they were–ever at work, ever moving.

And yet. I notice one on my arm just now, circling a scar I’d almost forgotten. It is more brown than the black ones I remember back home. Some things actually do change, when you find yourself changing places, after all.

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Video of Skateboarder Getting Hit by Truck and Flying 50 Feet

It said he lived, but didn’t go into his injuries. I believe it happened recently, and all google seacrhes didn’t give anymore info. JESUS. Hope he’s okay.

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Willis Plummer reviews my Chapbook “Everybody’s Gotta Suffer (Even Jesus and Rich People)…”

Willis Plummer wrote a nice review of my chapbook. Here it is; though Willis mentions I hate my boss, but I don’t hate my boss, he is very nice and looks out for me, in ways, I just mention him talking to me in my poem (Paranoid sentence). I just “sometimes feels bad about” my job, but I’m grateful to be employeed and play video games and sleep in a bed.

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Review: “lol.thx texas i will never love again.” by Willis Plummer

Starting with the title “lol.thx texas i will never love again.” Willis Plummer sets up his poem as absurdist and sad, as in recognition of the emotions being painful and, in the end, pointless. A stance of defense against a heart and illusion broken, but it’s a joke.

There aren’t many words, but I enjoyed them. He writes:





Which, I remember my last unrequited love, feeling like I couldn’t breath, and it seems the “Living Underwater…” sounds like a Beatles song, or what the fuck is that song? “Living is easy with eyes closed.” Is that Strawberry Fields? Yes.

He writes:







Which is really pretty and shiny and speaks to the delusion of unrequited love. Then he is on a plane for a stanza, all up this point in the 1st person.

Then the last page he switches to the 3rd person and writes, more in a prose style, in one long sentence about kissing, being sticky, then “he” not knowing in a week they won’t be speaking again.

And that’s it. A short romance, maybe long distance. One with bliss and attachment and being underwater in bad and good ways. And then the author feeling like he can’t breath, but feels this emotion is, if not temporary, not as serious as it is actually, thus why he started with “lol” in defense and relization that this lost romance wasn’t even that important.

Willis Plumber lives NYC, and based on his facebook it appears he has worked with Village Voice. Here is the link to “lol.thx texas i will never love again.” He may blog somewhere, but I’m not sure where.

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I’ll ship anyone a chapbook I made “Everybody Suffers (Even Jesus and Rich People)…” if you message me your address. It has 3 stories and a couple poems and artwork stolen from Mark Gonzales (he inspired me to make the zine and I’m sure he’d ‘be down’ with the borrow). Its a limited 1st edition of 25 copies.

my email is mcelmurry78 [at] It’s about 4500 words and has a 1st person story, 2nd person story, and a 3rd person story (two of them are only available throw this limited offer), and a couple poems.

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Book Review: The Recognitions by William Gaddis

—Reading Proust is an experience. In unassigned dialogue, William Gaddis writes, probably recognizing what it would be like to read his 956 page novel “The Recognitions”. A novel that demands not just the time of the reader, but requires them to to figure out who is talking, which “he” is speaking to which “she”, to wade through the ambiguities of the book, to discard characters and welcome new characters, whom only through faith you know will matter and intertwine with the rest of the characters. In the simplest explanation, the plot is a Faustian tale of a preacher’s son, a mind bogged in orthodox religion and the pagan routes and parallels to Christianity, who fails to gain attention for his own paintings and begins creating new works by great painters (which had somehow remained undiscovered) with the help of a gangster until his bargain turns against him, or he against it, and like Eve biting the apple and discovering consciousness becomes a whole human. Continue reading

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