a bit cooler today. when anna picked me up after work the pilot's temp. read 105 f. shit, positively chilly. thought maybe i might need my sweater. tho the streets, the air, the people look exhausted and seared. go on, i dare you to say i love the heat. no one could love the heat. why, cuz it's too fucking hot. all one can do is stay indoors. three elderly persons died yesterday sitting in their rooms at a transient hotel from the heat. it is that goddamned hot!

why bitch. my motto, should i adopt it, is don't complain/don't explain. i also like don't think/do which i always use when giving commands to our hound hugo, an 80 lbs lab/pitbull mix. never works, i always see the gears turning in his head as he thinks up increasingly ambitious new deviltry. e.g. when he was a pup i'd have to keep him from going into our room and stretching out on our bed. one evening he disappeared. i thought, i know where you are, little fucker. so i went into our room. it was dark, and very cold. i could see my breath it was so cold. the room was deathly silent. in the gloom i could see hugo. his eyes glowed fiercely red. i could see he was not on the bed, but floating over it.

other than that, been working in my loops manuscript. there comes a point where the poet must concede valery's point, and abandoned the thing. otherwise, it would be worked on and on ad infinitum. or agonized over, and one thing poetry is not, it is not an agony. sometimes.

alex gildzen turned me on to the poetry of jim cory. check out these poems i found last night at ducky magazine. as we used to say around the bong, that some good shit.

word to yr momma,
& grandma too