good god i'm fucking tired. fired up the laptop to work on my interview with the poet douglas blazek, then nicholas wasn't ready for beddy-bye, then etc. etc. so i write a few emails, get my chap, poems and a few other things ready for tomorrow's post, and then want to write something approximating sense about my survey. but hell, maybe it is the beer. drinking right now mendocino brewing company's eye of the hawk select ale. surprisingly good, with a slight sweetish after taste. good enough for a second bottle.

what i'm interested in re: my survey is how poets consider themselves, their writing, and their communities in our global cultures. and how the thoughts of regions are changing because of globalization. me, i delight in it, and have long thought of myself, for what it's worth, a global citizen. guillermo parra's response opens up another vein for another topic: the notion of major and minor writers and writing, and the idea of a canon.

the mail brought some good stuff, the latest fuck! with excellent textual and visual poems by joel lipman, fhole which is overall fucking excellent and typical girl by donna kuhn, a packed collection of some of the sweetest abstract writing. all very good shit. the diy zines fhole and fuck! are vital and what helps, in my humble opinion, keep the art alive.

i've long wanted to write poems with the visceral immediacy of mc5's 'kick out the jams'.

and do check out martin edmond's blog. the guy is something like a genius. check out this post here. he is another voyager in our global village.

does any know how to get in touch with randy prunty, or if no, let the dude know i love his texts.

vincent van gogh wrote somewhere in a letter to his brother theo that he often felt a stranger on earth. me, i often feel like a tourist on earth.

word to yr mother