clickity-clack

The clickity-clack attack
of my fingers striking the keys
is extra-striking today.
Where are my fingernail clippers?!?!
It's been two days since I first started thinking,
"Oh, it's time to trim those babies again."
Hmmmmm....
In the desk drawer?
Too cluttered.
On the shelf below the mirror in the bathroom?
Too obvious.
On my work table, buried amongst the CDs, poetry books, and pens?
Don't wanna move anything.
So then, you know, if you think about it,
it's been at least two days since I've played the guitar.
Shame on me!
Going through a bit of post-partum disinterest/depression
regarding creating music. Happens every time I finish a project.
Gotta cleanse the palate, so to speak.
Gotta fall in love again.
And the CDs on the table,
potentially hiding my clippers?
Yeah, the one I just finished!
See? It's all related.
A butterfly turns left instead of right
in the rainforest...
BAM!
We're in a war in Iraq.
Something like that.

Alice Cooper on the classic rock radio station
seems like an odd soundtrack to this writing endeavor.
Pink Floyd "money" and now
Alice Cooper "billion dollar babies".
Greenbacks.
I saw on TV the other day that, of all of the money counterfieted
outside of the USA, Columbia makes
about 75% of that.
Drug Money.
Oooo, commercial, what song is next?
"Tuesday's Gone"...is that Skynard?
I can dig the Allman Brothers...c'mon,
"Jessica" and "Melissa"?!??!! Awesome.
But typically, southern rock is just a notch
above rap for me.

OK, wow, shit...that was a bit of hyperbole for ya...

Well, is this avoidance or what?
I actually intended to come on here and observe/rant/lament
about my personal reactions to my new poetry book,
"Instinctual".
God, I have a fucking ego, and it doesn't translate well
to the artistic endeavor.
About 30 new poems in this book.
The 9 sonnets seem to be OK.
Hard to write a sonnet,
But hard to fuck up a sonnet
if you give it any sort of loving attention.
The rest of the poems can be, for the sake of time,
Be broken down into two categories:
1) Poor Tony, he's so lonely and longing for love
Witness him long and desire and lament and super size fantasize...
-and-
2) Observations/Portraits of other people, using daily references
to develop character and scenario. If Tony's in these poems at all,
It is as a side character to the central character, situation, scene, story...

So, from those two descriptions, can you guess which of the two styles
I feel I was much more successful at artistically?!?!?!
C'mon, guess!

"Strange Brew" on the radio now, by the way. Cream, baby.

I always have this great sense of failure
when I notice imperfections in what I do.
That goes for life as well as art.
I'm on Prozac, did you know?
Seriously.
So, although these observations of my recent writings
will surely give me a sense of how to approach writing
in the upcoming year,
and that's a good thing,
At the moment your friend Tony,
in the third-person,
is a bit bummed.

Oh well!
And I sent out a newsletter today.
I do so about once a month.
Not always, but often,
I get a few "unsubscribe" replies.
Not unusual, not unexpected,
I have about 400 people on my list, after all.
But it always sort of hurts me.
Yeah, I know,
I take it too personally!
I had three today.
One was from a co-worker of a friend,
So that doesn't really bother me.
One was from an ex-girlfriend of a good friend,
And I recently unsubscribed from her Myspace blog,
so tit-for-tat, baby.
I wasn't surprised.
In fact, this action on her part totally shows why I wanted
to distance myself from her anyway,
She can turn on you, so I 've heard,
So I've now observed.
So much for the love!
The final unsubscribe was bit of a surprise
but I understand this person's reasons.
A friend of a friend,
A perfect example that,
If we all had more time,
Our friends would be unlimited
and we could all have full dialogues
with these people.
But who has enough time?

Well, TIME's too deep of a subject,
and I've clickity-clacked enough for one day!

Peace & Love.