Does anyone understand Tumblr?

Why is there a pile of naked barbies with these Bud Smith books on the kitchen table?
I really have no explanation for this.

random page from Everything Neon (beautiful cover, right?)

Youth

When we were little
our mutual dream
was to slam dunk
so hard
we’d shatter
the glass backboard
That was it
Our whole dream
and now
here we are

(c)Bud Smith

http://budsmithwrites.com/

also trying to understand tumblr. I am, maybe, too old. ?? but, I am trying because of this http://thisispoetry.tumblr.com/

top secret stuff happening there. ssshhhhh
it seems the tags are very important.

The 10 most popular tags on Tumblr (June 2012)

 

 

 

 

 

i also came across this which has a nice cheat sheet for facebook photo sizes.. Facebook Photos Size Guide: Dimensions & Types (2014 Edition) which is also the reason my computer is about full up of the same image resized a bazillion times just to post crap on facebook. different for all the other social media whatnots too… if you don’t want to end up with an oddly reshaped or cropped photo… i mean, just look at what happened to this photo of Dr. Timothy Murrae (of the BLot Lit gang)from a recent book signing…

finally, all of this… I don’t really know what’s going on most of the time, but sometimes it works anyway.

The Literary Underground on

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/TheLiteraryUnderground

Twitter https://twitter.com/litinc

Youtube http://www.youtube.com/literaryunderground

News/Blog RSS Feed http://feeds.feedburner.com/theliteraryunderground/jamP

Citizens for Decent Literature
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/citizensfordecentliterature
Tumblr http://cfdl.tumblr.com/

Project U Radio Network
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/projecturadio

Nothing to Lose Internet Radio
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/nothingtoloseradio

Random Acts of Terror
https://www.facebook.com/RandomActsOfTerror

The Literary Underground Wiki
https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Literary-Underground-Wiki/143274819024844

ppigpenn.blogspot.com
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/Ppigpennblogspotcom

Twitter https://twitter.com/Ppigpenn

Community – Secret Code Sunday (just make it mean something, anything)

today i’m thinking about what did we mean to do when we started out…

dude, i don’t know- it’s been a weird day.

clusterfuck: Related to “SNAFU” (Situation Normal, All Fucked Up”) and “FUBAR” (Fucked Up Beyond All Repair). urbandictionary.com or the damn jeep

Connect the dots… somewhere there’s a manifesto based on connecting dots. it’s a 4-part plan. we’re in phase V. makes perfect sense, right?

Vulcan Gang Sign by Bradley Mason Hamlin (Red Fez Publications)

The Sunday Brunch Invasion w/ Diana Rose and Frankie Metro FT. RED FEZ ENTERTAINMENT (special guests Michele McDannold & Michael Grover, January 2011)

Diana Rose reads this poem in that ^^^ podcast. She wanted to add “motherfuckers” at the end. What do you think?

America You Can…
by Misti Rainwater-Lites

America of glazed donut eyeballs cotton candy cologne
minty fresh breath brave plastic beauty indomitable
high wire walking smile smug card shuffling hands
& hyper haughty tapping toes you can lick my pretty
pink none too placid mewling ravenous cream greedy pussy.
America I’m making it cheeseburger simple & sloppy with
a pickle spear on the side. America you cartoon carnivore
eat my cunt (you can add ketchup to make it more palatable).
Tell me in your glossy commercials & dazzling magazines & sleazy
school marm voice that oozes irony and pseudo compassion exactly
how much you think my vagina is worth. For America, my darling,
I must confess…the poverty & reality television & throbbing teeth
& the booming bass of consumer whore crap music outside my
paranoid aluminum foil covered windows gleefully conspire to make
this agitated smelly boot cowgirl one more frigid casualty in this
bloody graphic glorious fun zone with soundtrack provided by
Smiley Cyrus and various stoic sporters of apple red leather
& lack of oxygen blue sequins. America, I am drawling those four
precious syllables like the sexy Texan I am to charm you into letting me
back inside the burning building. I’ve got a bag of marshmallows I would
really love to toast. America! God fucking cockroach crunching damn it!
This is, like, a call to action. A plea to revive my zombie clitoris with some
really great fucking multisyllabic zero Jesus zero rabid conservative republican
zero celebrity whore with cock in mouth news! Vary that tongue action, America.
Give me a wiggle waggle I can believe in. Trick this salty treat into believing
you give a good hearty goddamn about whether or not I can climb climb
CLIMB any mountain cross any sea riding the cosmic spasms like Raggedy Ann
on a rocking horse, one hand flopping above my Cymbalta stuffed head, my mouth
a pretty cherry heart crying, “Yippie Ai Ay!”

published in Red Fez Publications, Issue #24

I <3 that poem. also,

How-To-Read-A-Pattern. Simple Simon and Company

Chyfez. February 2012. Brian W. Fugett, Lynn Alexander, John Swain, Frankie Metro, Lindsey Thomas, Leopold McGinnis, Julie McGinnis, Kari Spencer, and Michele McDannold

oh yeah. it was something like

---

more than halfway to goal. The artists, poets, musicians of Collingwood could still use some help. hell, just a bit of solidarity and support. where is the noise? i can’t hear you. Residents of Collingwood Arts Center being evicted (DONATION PAGE)

Fundraiser for Collingwood Arts Center Residents

$1000 has been raised in less than 24 hours. 14 people. that’s it. that’s all it took. The goal is $2500. skip starbucks today and if you can’t even afford starbucks like most artists.. maybe you have a blog–write about this, you’re on social media?–share it. if you ever felt the benefits of an arts community, how could you not?

i’ve seen a lot more raised to publish a book about cats. wtf? this is about a place to live. dig?

DONATION PAGE

Residents of Collingwood Arts Center being evicted (northwestohio.com)

maybe next time it’s you

I would like to be writing this blog post about anything else. Anything positive and affirming to the creative community. Instead, it’s this…

Artists in residence at the Collingwood Arts Center in Toledo, Ohio are being evicted–given thirty days notice–in the dead of winter. This is not just some art space. This is their home, an affordable place to live and be able to make their art.

I have been to Collingwood several times. The first, was for the Zygote in my Fez reading back in August 2011. It was the first event I ever helped put together or even go to in the small press… an amazing experience that was made possible with the help of current arts resident, poet, and dear friend Michael Grover.

Tim Murray of Valparaiso, Indiana, recites one of his poems during Zygote in My Fez at the Collingwood Arts Center. – THE BLADE/ANDY MORRISON

That event brought many people together that had worked with each other for years in independent publishing, but never actually met in person. Mix of poets converges to share works at area festival. Arts center event showcases creativity and collaboration. (Toledo Blade). It inspired some great writing, a book, and many more collaborations. Some would even call it the beginning of a goddamn “underground cultural phenomenon.” Dorsey: Zygote on the Road (Toledo Free Press)

What the fuck is wrong with our society that we can throw away money on useless bullshit and turn the other direction when something like this happens? What does this say about what we value? It’s shameful. downright disgusting.

I don’t know what, if anything can be done. I’m looking for someone to complain to, and I just hope that you will be aware, make other people aware, and do SOMETHING, anything to put a stop to this horseshit, show your support, refuse to sit by idly.

When you make the arts, creativity… your life… yeah, maybe you’re gonna suffer for it. bleed for the page and all that. Does it really have to be this miserable though? It shouldn’t.

**UPDATE**
a fund has been created to take donations to help those being displaced. please give if you can, any amount helps. or help spread the word. http://www.gofundme.com/6g2ezg

“These are poor starving artists who have been living with subsidized rent so they can do their craft. My goal is to raise funds to make their transition to a new place easier. Hopefully make their landing softer.
There are 28 residents that range all kinds of disciplines and ages.”

google images: Hookers & Chuck E. Cheese

Doesn’t sound quite right, does it?

“hookers and chuck e. cheese” is a snippet of conversation overheard in the Jhole (that’s short for the dark hole of Jacksonville, Illinois) last night. as i was jotting it down in my notebook, i thought.. that has definite meme potential. guess what?

i love memes. and they’re great for promotion. i keep seeing this “poetry warning” meme popping up on my friends’ facebook walls. Oh, the dangers of poetry. made by poet Russell Jones http://poetrusselljones.blogspot.com/2013/08/meme-ified.html

when it comes to annoying things of the internet, I’ll take a meme over a hashtag any day. overheard also last night was my daughter’s friend on the phone trying to key in a gift card number. “Where’s the pound sign? What is a pound sign?!?” When I yelled “hashtag!” from the other room, she found it ‘oh yeah’ no problem. #helpamerika

which brings me back to poets.

Poet Facts by Dr. Timothy Murrae’

You can find more helpful information about how to “Stop Breeding Poetry In Your Own Backyard!” here.

here’s a fun image I tossed together for that shindig about to happen

and, finally.. my favorite meme ever that definitely spiked the engagement on the facebook page we used it on. I also got unfriended, blocked, and even some hate mail on this one…

If you ask me, the tech music this image was used for on a cover is more offensive than anything

i heart urbandictionary

today’s internet awesomeness is brought to you by urbandictionary.com

and, must have web gadget – Webpage Screenshot (http://www.webpagescreenshot.info/). It’s how I snagged the screenshot up there of urbandictionary.com and it has come in handy a time or two for snapping a picture of webbery for promotional whatnots. rated, sure why not, just make sure you don’t download any additional BS with it like that one time I ended up with Jolly Wallet ads or some such nonsense.

I turn to urban dictionary to decipher my teenage children on a regular basis. I have no idea what they’re saying half of the time. It’s also just funny. Horizontal Peeing? “I touched the water!” also, inspiring. A portion of the definition for “ratchet” inspired this cut-up page in Citizens for Decent Literature #5 (WARNING: JUST PLAIN NOT SUITABLE – http://issuu.com/literaryunderground/docs/cfdl5).

RATCHET: Ratchet babies are a rare breed of child raised but the most ratchety ratchets. Such a creature drinks a mixture of Baby Drank and Heroin for nutrients. This habit is started from birth to build up tolerance for the (short) life ahead of him/her. A ratchet laugh is usually high pictched, sometimes to a frequency most people over 40 cannot hear. http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Ratchet&defid=5415583

Yes, another blog

Maybe this one will last beyond a few months. For once, not started due to random inspiration or manic fit, but for an assignment in a Social Media class. Yes, there is such a thing. and, I consider it essential on my path to world domination/poetry as currency delusions.

We’re to identify a theme/mission/point of view. Today as I wrestle with juggling the teenagers, deadlines on papers about reading I have yet to read, and an event less than a week away with the asshole poets – will I make it, won’t I– it’s still up in the air… this poem by Charles Bukowski sort of hits today’s point of view dead on.

2 flies
by Charles Bukowski

The flies are angry bits of
life;
why are they so angry?
it seems they want more,
it seems almost as if they
are angry
that they are flies;
it is not my fault;
I sit in the room
with them
and they taunt me
with their agony;
it is as if they were
loose chunks of soul
left out of somewhere;
I try to read a paper
but they will not let me
be;
one seems to go in half-circles
high along the wall,
throwing a miserable sound
upon my head;
the other one, the smaller one
stays near and teases my hand,
saying nothing,
rising, dropping
crawling near;
what god puts these
lost things upon me?
other men suffer dictates of
empire, tragic love…
I suffer
insects…
I wave at the little one
which only seems to revive
his impulse to challenge:
he circles swifter,
nearer, even making
a fly-sound
and one above
catching a sense of the new
whirling, he too, in excitement,
speeds his flight,
drops down suddenly
in a cuff of noise
and they join
in circling my hand,
strumming the base
of the lampshade
until some man-thing
in me
will take no more
unholiness
and I strike
with the rolled-up paper–
missing!–
striking,
striking,
they break in discord,
some message lost between them,
and I get the big one
first, and he kicks on his back
flicking his legs
like an angry whore,
and I come down again
with my paper club
and he is a smear
of fly-ugliness;
the little one circles high
now, quiet and swift,
almost invisible;
he does not come near
my hand again;
he is tamed and
inaccessible; I leave
him be, he leaves me
be;
the paper, of course,
is ruined;
something has happened,
something has soiled my
day,
sometimes it does not
take a man
or a woman,
only something alive;
I sit and watch
the small one;
we are woven together
in the air
and the living;
it is late
for both of us.

Strictly for educational purposes, this poem was copied from a well-worn and coffee-stained copy of Play The Piano Drunk Like A Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin To Bleed A Bit, given to me a zillion years ago by a friend I’m lucky to be able to still call a friend.

regardless of today’s point of view, I follow the philosophy of the Honey Badger…

so, I will be blogging about a range of topics including writerly stuff, personal what-have-yous, observational random ephemera, and fashion advice (wear flannel). I suppose I should make an “about me” page, until then, these pretty much sum me up…

drawing by Dr. Timothy Murrae’

middle child’s drawing of me, Christmas morning 2012