Trying to import the old blog without any of the funky wingdings in the posts and such I have hit a snag. Deleting all the former posts and uploading the XML doesn’t seem to be working but maybe it is that I am impatient. My artistic medium was never with the computer as a tool, a means, or an end. While I am not a luddite I am still a little lost but working it out. Fear not my lack of readership – this too will be worked out in the end.
July 7, 2011
New around here
This is my inaugural post on WordPress under the address willfulresemblance.com instead of the old standby – willfulresemblance.blogspot.com
I am unsatisfied with how the old blog downloaded with extra characters and all but we shall see what becomes of this in time.
for now there is a poem lurking in my head, somewhere…
small black fly praying
on white ceiling
casting a small shadow
of prayer
– Hoc Scripsi
July 5, 2011
I am fairly certain that I became an artist for the pussy. I learned that when you successfully sell a show there is even more pussy. Getting girls to come into my studio (where there was a bed) was never a problem and then getting them naked was even easier. Tons of pussy in painting if you do it right.
When I got tired of the pussy I stopped painting and took up jazz for the ass it provided.
Poetry has never gotten me laid except by my wife and that is only a maybe. I think it could but I am not interested in that – only the poetry itself.
Playing guitar also never really got me laid – and these are the things I continue to do to this day – guitar and poetry – guitar less so and poetry more so.
Also Ukulele.
July 4, 2011
ill-sleep
night full of sounds keeping my attention burned toward all windows and doors. Fireworks last night coming from the abandoned golf course/coyote home tempting nature to blaze a fire in the tall grass. I nearly roused myself to avoid the fitful turning and secluded in my writing room to answer letters and reach out to some who do not send letters.
I’d a poem in mind which needed writing and ended as a haiku last night – but may be expanded or not. Shortened possibly.
nightmares which I instantly recall in vivid color but cannot bring myself to verbalize here or in life. I long to sleep without bad dreaming and without attention to sound.
I listened to Jesus Christ Superstar remembering when I last saw this show. After, as I stood behind a woman in a beautiful fur coat (bunny I believe) smoking a cigarette – Somehow I managed to burn several holes through the fur to resemble a smiley face – I don’t know how that happened but it did, and that was the second time it happened to me. A number of people saw it but no-one said a word and all of them smiled.
I have a problem with people who don’t live in the extreme north wearing fur.
I’m a hypocrite as I wear leather shoes, belt and jacket – the jacket while I am riding the m/cycle. No-one has ever thrown blood on me but I don’t think I’d blame them.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 