Amusion: amusement at the confusion of another, noun; word play used to confuse the listener and amuse the speaker, verb
Gentrification isn’t that bad, it just means you can’t afford to live there.
The affects of supply and demand hit hardest at the bottom of the pyramid because there is less flexibility in budget, savings, namely capital.
People with money invest their money and make money off their money.
They seem like land owners during feudal times, but if I had money I think I would do the same.
I make an hourly wage.
I am an hourly wage worker, this is an indicator of my economic status.
I would like to get a little 2 bedroom house in northwest Denver, but so does everyone.
People with more income, who could afford the twice as expensive townhomes, six of them, where one old small house stood.
Investors have been buying and building on the outskirts of downtown, bourgeois townhomes I can’t afford.
Life is not fair certainly, but I work downtown and take the bus and would like a little 2 bedroom house with a yard for the dog, a garage with a tool bench, maybe a basement to write in.
That is my dream, and I hope to achieve it despite the tight rental market.
I have no opinion regarding Miley Cyrus, other than marketing genius.
Earlier considered parody of Whitney Houston song, “saving all my love for you” to a man, looking at porn, deciding not to masturbate, the chorus, “saving all my spooge for you.”
I bought the Marbled Swarm by Dennis Cooper at Kilgore’s (used bookstore between Wax Trax) in Denver’s Capitol Hill yesterday. It came out in 2011 and is 14.99 new, and was $7.50. When I bought it, the curly-haired graduate student-esque owner looked up at me, in the face, in question, does this person know of Dennis Cooper, what book he is buying? I was walking to the Office Depot on Colfax to buy a 30-pack of CDs, and just stopped in, on the way. I’ve read about 45 pgs, currently, tonight and though it is creepy subject matter his writing is so good, the story told perfectly. Writing “good” or “perfect” seem too shitty of verbiage and description to match. Also, it looks like James Franco on the front, and Dennis Cooper reminds me of Larry Clark’s movies.
I’m sitting in bed, drinking a beer and looking at Mira Gonzalez’s twitter, for the past 30 minutes. I think I’d watch 3-5 netflix episodes of a TV show based on her tweets. Also her ‘mommy’ is beautiful. And she met Lorin Stein, does this happen? And there’s Tao shooting mustard on dumplings, and picking up drugs. I’d watch a whole season.
I’m scared of twitter.
I’m scared to have my emotions have the significance of likes or following.
If I get 3 hearts on a tumblr poem, I feel pretty good about it.
I just looked at twitter, and it actually seems cool.
I started a twitter twice and I have some sort of compulsion issue, paranoia issue, and low internet-self esteem issues.
I wouldn’t want to take an IQ test because then it might reveal to me that I’m not very smart, though I tested high in elementary school and if I didn’t start a mood disorder in adolescence I might not be a college dropout.
I read Moby-Dick and Proust on the weed.
I deleted my twitters.
I mostly would want to tweet inappropriate things, like existentialist yells during a mood swing; there would be Thanatos winking, or pot-humor.
I’d want it to be retweeted or something and get followers but I had the fear that no one cares.
IRL I can charm ppl because I see their faces and ask about themselves and make jokes, but online I just feel like I’m whining.
Whining was frowned upon by my parents and I don’t appreciate it much either.
I notice on twitters of popular writers they only follow ~20-60 ppl, mostly friends.
It seems like a twitter conspicuous consumption to only follow 30 ppl while being followed by thousands.
Like Kanye West only follows one dude or whatever.
It’s like chaffing leather underwear, it might get you hard, but it leaves a rash.
I’m not sure about that last line.
Composing poems on yr phone is like texting.
Did Edouard Leve have a twitter?
He would have been good like Lish.
I never heard of Gordon Lish until recently, or that people wanted to write like Raymond Carver.
I didn’t know of Gaddis until I read that he was Jimmy Chen’s favorite, or one of.
I would love to divorce my ego from social media poetics but have issues (see above) that create a discomfort to tweet or Facebook status update things.
I just think no one cares.
The cognition of my mind flows along with my moods.
I sat and looked at a word doc for 2 hours, and kind of planned, like an investment, my next move.
I’m taking Monday off from work to work on writing.
I went to a baseball game yesterday and therapy afterwork today and now I’m doing this and I think it has more to do with compulsion because my mind felt too emotionally/physically tired to novel write but have to do this thing now, and I don’t understand even what it is I’m doing.
This is why twitter scares me.
It exposes my word spin compulsions along with low Internet-self esteem and obsessive mind.
I drank a lot of iced coffee earlier.
Don’t ask what you would do for a Klondike, but what a Klondike would do for you
I notice the need to existentialist yell to the world, in blog platform, is a equation of brain chemistry and life and inertia.