Andrew Weatherhead
made 3 bowel movements so far today

I am reading at this tomorrow, have spent all day figuring out what I want to read... going to read a lot of things.

My mom is out of town at a frisbee tournament right now. I have turned the entire house into my desk and some of it is my food area also. This is what I'm looking at right now:



I have been productive on a small-medium scale recently. Blogged about C. Webb. Blogged about Borders closing. Published a year old story on MuuMuu House after a bunch of line edits, which feels like a weird thing to do (publish something so old), but I think that's how the world works and also I'm trying to think as little as possible about the things I do, which sounds bad but is good. Part of the reason I'm blogging this blog is to hopefully prolong the "shelf-life" of the aforementioned pieces. Mallory illustrated the story:



I watched/made Jordan eat this once, Mallory might have taken a bite, but I definitely did not:



One thing I left out of the Borders blog post is: their website used to claim they were the birthplace of Fallout Boy... whether that is true or not, I believe them. Two of my friends' brothers are in that band. (Were? Did they break up?) I'm beginning to realize contractions come into my work only during the revision process. The reason I'm typing now is I'm waiting for my phone to email my computer the picture of the thing Jordan ate, which is taking a while. My eyes really hurt from not leaving the house I think.

Friday, May 27, 2011
6 comments

AR Ammons poem that illustrates the uselessness of poetry

Motion

The word is
not the thing:
is
a construction of,
a tag for,
the thing: the
word in
no way
resembles
the thing, except
as sound
resembles,
as in whirr,
sound:
the relation
between what this
as words
is
and what is
is tenuous: we
agree upon
this as the net to
cast on what
is: the finger
to
point with: the
method of
distinguishing,
defining, limiting:
poems
are fingers, methods,
nets,
not what is or
was:
but the music
in poems
is different,
points to nothing,
traps no
realities, takes
no game, but
by the motion of
its motion
resembles
what, moving, is --
the wind
underleaf white against
the tree.

Sunday, May 1, 2011
1 comments

AR Ammons poem that illustrates the arbitrary nature of nature

WCW

I turned in
by the bayshore
and parked,
the crosswind
hitting me hard
side the head,
the bay scrappy
and working:
what a
way to read
Williams! till
a woman came
and turned
her red dog loose
to sniff
(an piss
on)
the dead horseshoe
crabs.


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AJW is the author of numerous poems and short stories, both online and in print. He makes collages here. He is from Wilmette, Illinois. He is an Eagle Scout.

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