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fritz brenner

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About fritz brenner

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  1. I have a cat named Archie. He's obese.
  2. absolutely. super creepy. his eyes glow red in the night. welcome to denver!
  3. fritz brenner

    Gigs

    oh, i want to see leonard cohen, but i can't afford those tickets. i'm really looking forward to andrew bird on the 10th.
  4. just finished richard russo's "empire falls." entertaining. i think he writes characters well. finally starting "all the pretty horses," it's one of those books i've owned for a long time and have always meant to read, but never have. re-read jhumpa lahiri's "interpreter of maladies." i love re-reading. oh, and the lsat study guide. now *that* is a good read.
  5. i've really enjoyed neko case's newest. it's one i can hear a lot and not be bored with. yet. yesterday, the newest amadou & mariam. the manu chao is distinctive as always, but it's good stuff. also the newest yeah yeah yeahs -- really different from everything else they've done. i'm not sure how i feel yet. i'll be sure to let everyone know what i decide, as i'm sure you're on the edge of your seats.
  6. Today at school we had to think about who we admired in high school. I started thinkng about poets, and I started thinking about Joy Harjo and Thylias Moss. I always enjoyed this Harjo: She had some horses. She had horses who were bodies of sand. She had horses who were maps drawn of blood. She had horses who were skins of ocean water. She had horses who were the blue air of sky. She had horses who were fur and teeth. She had horses who were clay and would break. She had horses who were splintered red cliff. She had some horses. She had horses with long, pointed breasts. She had horses with full, brown thighs. She had horses who laughed too much. She had horses who threw rocks at glass houses. She had horses who licked razor blades. She had some horses. She had horses who danced in their mothers' arms. She had horses who thought they were the sun and their bodies shone and burned like stars. She had horses who waltzed nightly on the moon. She had horses who were much too shy, and kept quiet in stalls of their own making. She had some horses. She had horses who liked Creek Stomp Dance songs. She had horses who cried in their beer. She had horses who spit at male queens who made them afraid of themselves. She had horses who said they weren't afraid. She had horses who lied. She had horses who told the truth, who were stED She had some horses. She had horses who called themselves, "horse." She had horses who called themselves, "spirit." and kept their voices secret and to themselves. She had horses who had no names. She had horses who had books of names. She had some horses. She had horses who whispered in the dark, who were afraid to speak. She had horses who screamed out of fear of the silence, who carried knives to protect themselves from ghosts. She had horses who waited for destruction. She had horses who waited for resurrection. She had some horses. She had horses who got down on their knees for any savior. She had horses who thought their high price had saved them. She had horses who tried to save her, who climbed in her bed at night and prayed as they raped her. She had some horses. She had some horses she loved. She had some horses she hated. These were the same horses. And this Moss: The Rapture of Dry Ice Burning Off Skin As the Moment of the Soul's Apotheosis How will we get used to joy if we won't hold onto it? Not even extinction stops me; when I've sufficient craving, I follow the buffalo, their hair hanging below their stomachs like fringes on Tiffany lampshades; they can be turned on so can I by a stampede, footsteps whose sound is my heart souped up, doctored, ninety pounds running off a semi's invincible engine. Buffalo heaven is Niagara Falls. There their spirit gushes. There they still stampede and power the generators that operate the Tiffany lamps that let us see in some of the dark. Snow inundates the city bearing their name; buffalo spirit chips later melt to feed the underground, the politically dredlocked tendrils of roots. And this has no place in reality, is trivial juxtaposed with the faces of addicts, their eyes practically as sunken as extinction, gray ripples like hurdlers' track lanes under them, pupils like just more needle sites. And their arms: flesh trying for a moon apprenticeship, a celestial antibody. Every time I use it the umbrella is turned inside out, metal veins, totally hardened arteries and survival without anything flowing within, nothing saying life came from the sea, from anywhere but coincidence or God's ulcer, revealed. Yet also, inside out the umbrella tries to be a bouquet, or at least the rugged wrapping for one that must endure much, without dispensing coherent parcels of scent, before the refuge of vase in a room already accustomed to withering mind and retreating skin. But the smell of the flowers lifts the corners of the mouth as if the man at the center of this remorse has lifted her in a waltz. This is as true as sickness. The Jehovah's Witness will come to my door any minute with tracts, an inflexible agenda and I won't let him in because I'm painting a rosy picture with only blue and yellow (sadness and cowardice). I'm something of an alchemist. Extinct. He would tell me time is running out. I would correct him: time ran out; that's why history repeats itself, why we can't advance. What joy will come has to be here right now: Cheer to wash the dirt away, Twenty Mule Team Borax and Arm & Hammer to magnify Cheer's power, lemon-scented bleach and ammonia to trick the nose, improved--changed-- Tide, almost all-purpose starch that cures any limpness except impotence. Celebrate that there's Mastercard to rule us, bring us to our knees, the protocol we follow in the presence of the head of our state of ruin, the official with us all the time, not inaccessible in palaces or White Houses or Kremlins. Besides every ritual is stylized, has patterns and repetitions suitable for adaptation to dance. Here come toe shoes, brushstrokes, oxymorons. Joy is at our tongue tips: let the great thirsts and hungers of the world be the marvelous thirsts, glorious hungers. Let hearbreak be alternative to coffeebreak, five midmorning minutes devoted to emotion. EDIT: this is Nero, actually.
  7. So all this talk of animal protein reinforces something I have always thought of getting my cats for Christmas. Is it totally wrong to buy a few gerbils, and put them in those plastic exercise balls they have, and let the cats roll them down the hallway until they figure it out? It doesn't seem much different than what I used to do when I had a boa constrictor as a pet, only with Her, those rodents didn't have a chance at all. EDIT: to say this is actually Nero. Of course, the first time in like a year that my sister signs in as herself on Mouthfuls, I end up posting some ridiculous shit under her screen name.
  8. i know i don't post often (i just read all of the time), but i am pretty cheerful right now, because i just finished my master's degree today. i actually almost posted this in the surrealism thread.
  9. you're just saying that because we live there . [although i agree.]
  10. there is a movie being filmed just up the street from my apartment ... supposedly, katie holmes is in it, although the only actors named online are debra messing and john leguizamo. the movie is called "humboldt park," which is a predominantly puerto rican neighborhood here in chicago. i don't live in humboldt park. i live in logan square (which is close to humboldt park).
  11. jeff buckley, "last goodbye " the white stripes, "i'm bound to pack it up" sleater-kinney, "one more hour"
  12. Fritz, you can listen to the whole thing on this site, which is streaming it until the release. It's a mellow disc, a bit different than her dance stuff. Edit: I hate the album cover photo -- in it she looks like one of the Olsens. Blech. thanks! she is a bit of a strange one, with her clowns and caravans obsessions ... there is an interview with her on the pitchfork media website: indeed. i'm glad she's going a bit more mellow again, i actually like her first album, "Felt Mountain," best, although her dance-y stuff is mostly good too.
  13. today, i've listened to Bon Iver, "For Emma, Forever Ago." i like it pretty well, but haven't listened really carefully yet. also, Goldfrapp's new single, A&E. i like her voice a lot. album out on the 25th.
  14. in every restaurant i've worked in, the buspeople get tipped out, and in almost every restaurant i've worked in, the dishwashers and linecooks do as well ... or their wages are higher than server/host wages. this may not be the case in many restuarants, though.
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