Show us an awesome mustache.
Submitted by Soup.
I know, right?
]]>Plot DJ Doctor
Love is doing his weekly Saturday night show where he tries his best to mend
the broken hearts of San Diego in the space of a half hour. This particular
night, however, Lady Love has been quite fickle with the townspeople and they
have called in with more problems than usual. Cast (in order of appearance,
with descs and wardrobe notes) The Dancers [TD] – flirty multicolor mimes. Four
girls, go-go style, in tie-dye shirts and black micro miniskirts. Bare feet or
rainbow socks. (OPTIONAL: neon tights or leggings) Dr. Elovee Love [D] – DJ. Disco Stu-style guy with
more suavity. Black afro, bright 70’s shirt and bell-bottoms. Disco shoes or
loafers. (OPTIONAL: sunglasses, aviators) The Marias [TM] – Equivalent of greek chorus.
Expressive and beautiful. Three girls, Supremes style singers. Black dresses,
black high heels, flashy jewelry. (OPTIONAL, BUT HIGHLY RECOMMENDED: strapless
dresses) Caller 1[C1] – Young yuppie girl, whiny stereotypical
teenager. Pastel polo, tennis skirt, white keds or tennis shoes, silver
jewelry. Caller 2 [C2] – Jock. Big, brawny, handsome, but
tragically stupid. Sports jersey (soccer, football, baseball, etc.) and jeans
and sneakers. Holds or wears appropriate sports prop. (soccer ball, helmet,
etc.) Paquito and the Deftones – Latin fusion-rock band. Band
colors are purple and green. Cheito the Bass Player [Ch] – Strong and silent. Shy,
average guy. Wears tight jeans, converse, and a t-shirt that reads “Cheito” on
the front and “Deftone” on the back. Sunglasses. Paquito the front man [P] – Cute and cocky. Smiles a
lot and leans back in his chair. Avg jeans, wild colored sneakers, and tee with
“Paquito” on the front and “Goya” on the back. Wiso the drummer [W] – Nihilistic, withdrawn. Loose
jeans, black sneakers, sunglasses, and tee with “Wiso” on the front and
“Deftone” on the back. Martin [M] – A werewolf. Red shirt, blue jacket or
over shirt, black jeans, black sneakers. Bushy or messy beard, or a hairy face. Caller 3 [C3] – Asian nerd. White button-down w/breast
pocket and short sleeves, black pants w/suspenders, and loafers. (OPTIONAL:
pocket protector) Props Four microphones with stands: two on stage left (on
table for Dr. Love), stage right (for callers) , and center stage (for The
Marias). On stage left, one table (long or round) with three chairs. Cell phone
for callers. Backstage mic optional. Sports prop for jock caller, sunglasses
for girl caller and band. Headphones for Dr. Love. Act I, Scene I (Darkness. Track
1, “Break on Through” begins to play. The lights, psychedelic and dim, come on. The
dancers stand center stage. They pose in sync with the xylophone. When
the bass begins, they dance. Dr. Love comes
in combing his afro. He
stops in front of Girl #1. She
swoons. As
he walks over to Girl #2, Girl
#1 does the hustle. He
pops his collar, Girl #2 swoons
and does the same. He
walks over to the last two girls and turns, as they lean on either of his
shoulders. He
shrugs them off and walks to his table and three chairs. He sits in the middle
chair and puts on his headphones. As The Dancers walk out through stage right, The
Marias come in single file through stage
left as the music is fading. They
stand center stage. ) (deep voice) YOU ARE LISTENING TO… TM: ILOV FM
Radio… D: (to The
Marias) Thank you, ladies. (into the mic) Good evening, San Diego,
as of seven o’clock on a balmy summer night, you are being lulled by the dulcet
tones on my lovely in-house songstresses, The Marias. This here is Doc Elovee
Love, coming to ya live on ILOV FM, and boy, do we have a swinging show for all
you hep cats and hep kitties. Later tonight, we have Puerto Rico’s own Paquito
and the Deftones, promoting their new album, Si es Goya, tiene que ser bueno. (Everybody
backstage cheers.) D: As for now, I will be taking calls from my
wonderful audience. Come on, San Diego; tell the Doctor where it hurts. TM: Ring, ring!
Someone’s callin’ you, Doc! (Caller
1 enters and stands on stage right) C1: Yeah, Doctor? My name is Joe and I have a question. D: Go ahead, Joe. C1: Well, Doc, there’s this new girl I just met… D: So far, so good. C1: And she’s the most prettiest girl I’ve ever sawed.
So I tried flirting with her, but she said she doesn’t like football players. (incredulous) I mean, what’s the deal
with that? She says it’s cause we’re tectonic, or something. D: Don’t you mean moronic? TM: (to the tune
of “Hit the Road, Jack”) Read a book, Joe, because you’re so dumb, so dumb, so
dumb, so dumb, so dumb. Read a book, Joe, because you’re so dumb, baby… C1: Yeah, that. So I asked her out and she turned me
down, on account of she likes Plat-o and not John Madden. She even said I’m an
immigrant, Doc! What should I do?? D: I think she meant ignorant, but at any cost, Joey-boy,
you should first learn how to read. If that doesn’t work out, then this is
probably not the girl for you. My advice is to find a girl who’s pretty and not
much else. C1: Yeah, that sounds like my type. (happy) Thanks, Doc! D: You stay fly, guy. Next caller. (C1
leaves and C2 enters through the same way. She sighs a lot and checks her nails while
talking with the Doc on a cell phone.) C2: (sad)
Good evening, Doctor. D: Back at ya, pretty thing. Care to tell me what
brings your sweet voice to my eardrums? C2: (sighs)
I’m depressed. (everybody
backstage): AWWWWW… D: But why? You sound like a swinging chick… C2: None of the other guys seem to think the same way.
All of my friends already have boyfriends. (angry)
I’m sick of being the third wheel! (distressed)
How am I ever gonna shed the Old Maid syndrome? D: Well, pretty girl, you have something those other
girls don’t have: soul. Besides, having a boyfriend isn’t all that it’s cracked
up to be. Don’t waste life on the living, sweetheart. C2: (angry)
But I want a boyfriend! TM: (to the tune
of “At Last”) Young girl, your love will come along… D: In any case, there’s a time and a place for
everything, sweetness, and it’s called “college.” Remember, the latest bloomer
is always the most fly. Besides, if you’re already taken, what are you gonna do
when a better make and model comes along? C2: (sarcastic)
Thanks, Doctor. That was SOME help. D: (shrugs)
Anything for a damsel in distress. (C2
exits.) D: (excited) San
Diego, you are in for a delish dish of music. Here in our studio we have the
Boricua band Paquito and the Deftones, who will be answering questions for our
lovely crowd tonight. (Track
2, “Baby, Call on me” begins to play. When
the music starts, Girl #4 comes in leading the pack. She gets to center stage
and moves to right front stage. Cheito enters with his arm around Girl #3’s
waist. Paquito is behind him, with Girl #1, and Wiso is last with Girl #2. They
walk to the front of the stage and all turn at the same time. They
pose. The
Dancers exit after passing by Dr. Love’s table and giving The Marias the evil
eye. The
band dances a bit and when the lyrics start, the music fades out. Paquito
and Wiso sit next to of Dr. Love. Bass stands behind them.) D: (shaking
hands) Welcome, boys. Glad to have you here on this beautiful evening. P: We’re glad to be here, Doc. We listen to your show
every week. D: Ah, fans, I see. P: Yep. As a matter of fact, some of the guys in the
band have a few questions. Do you mind? D: Not at all. Fire away, boys. (Cheito
comes forward and speaks into the mic) Ch: Um, yeah, Doc. Is there any way I can get (takes off sunglasses) Maria (winks at her) #2’s phone number? Marias #1 &3: (simultaneously,
shocked, and jealous) It’s always her! D: That would be a resounding no, my friend. Maria #2: (to
the tune of “Jenny”) 867-5309. (flirty)
Why don’t you call for a good time? Ch: You bet! (D
looks at Maria #2, slightly mad. She shrugs and blows Cheito a kiss. He catches
it and puts it in his pocket. All the while, they are being watched by Paquito.
Wiso has fallen asleep.) P: (dismissive)
Anyway, Doctor, we’re just here to promote our newest album and our worldwide
Goya tour. D: (to Paquito)
Good Luck with that, boys. (into the mic)
And remember, you too can buy a (everybody
makes spanking motions, even the sleeping Wiso) spanking new copy of
Paquito and the Deftones’ new CD, Si es
Goya, tiene que ser bueno hitting stands next week. Let’s go on to our next
caller. Martin, you are on the air. (Martin
enters and stands with his back to the audience at stage right) M: Doctor? I have a problem. D: Go on. M: (mumbling)
I’m a werewolf. D: Come again? M: (turns and
screams) I’m a WEREWOLF! TM: (scream) Ch: (faints) (Wiso
wakes and glances back at the unconscious Cheito, shrugs and goes back to
sleep.) M: You know, full moon, hairy face, bad breath, the
whole nine yards. D: Wow. That IS a problem. M: You’re telling me. I can’t ever seem to get a date.
It’s driving me crazy. D: (sarcastic)
It MIGHT have something to do with the fact that you’re a monster, but I’m just
taking a wild guess. M:
Ha-ha, Doc. I’m serious. How can I get a girl that doesn’t run away when I try
to bite her? D: Well, first I would advise you (obvious) not to try and bite her. Secondly, find a girl who like
you for who you are. Seeing as you change who you are on the outside every full
moon, if she likes what’s on the inside, then you’re solid. M: Thanks, Doc. D: Thanks to you, my furry friend. Next caller. (Martin
exits, C3 enters.) C3: (nerdy)
Yeah, this one is for the band. P: We’re listening. C3: Why are you guys so cool? P: (cocky) Well,
caller, that would be because we are Puerto Rican, and nothing can ever top
that. (Everybody,
even the unconscious Bass claps in time with TM) TM:
(singing) Oye como va, mi ritmo, bueno pa
gozar, mulato. C3: Oh. P: Satisfied? C3: Not really. P: (giving up) Eh,
the truth never satisfies. C3: Thanks, guys. P: Anytime. (C3
exits.) D: Wow, Paquito, I am impressed. P: What can I say? We are so fly we should have wings.
W:(annoyed) Mano, vámonos, que yo estoy
monchoso. P: Dame un break. W: (stands up,
angry) Tipo, perNIL tengo HAMBRE… (Cheito
gets up.) Ch: Pernil? (everybody
backstage peeks out) DóNDE?? P:
Chico, espera, que ya termino. W:
(angry) Mano, olvídate de tí. Yo me
voy. (Wiso exits. Cheito looks after Wiso, shrugs and leaves.) P: (to D) We
need to be leaving now. Wiso’s mother is making pernil. D: (shaking
hands) Pork waits for no one, boys. Be safe, stay fly. P: That won’t bee too hard. Night, Doc. (P
exits and takes Maria #2 with him.) D:
(to Maria) Pa dónde tu vas? M2:
(flirty, defiant) Ya yo ponché. (D
holds up his hands questioningly. He looks mildly annoyed. They leave. D shakes
his head slowly.) D: (low-impact) Some
cat once said that parting was such sweet sorrow, and I can’t help but agree
with him. That’s all the time we have for tonight, San Diego, but until next
time: live well, love well, and for heaven’s sake, don’t forget to eat well.
I’m Doctor Elovee Love, last on your dial, but first in your heart. Stay fly. TM: (singing)
ILOV FM radio… Copyright, Creative COmmons Share-Alike License. 2007. Feel free to share and distribute, but don't sell or change it, and always give me credit.
Four from long ago.
===============
Canción para Aracné
Aquella mujer le dicen
Araña
Con sus greñas castañas
Y sus mñas tejidas
Agujas e hilo en manos torcidas
Aquella mujer le llaman
Araña
Araña castaña de mañas extrañas
Aracné
Carta de amor a un comunista (Fidel dice)
Fidel dice que el amor cobra impuestos, querido
Pero, ¿cómo pudiera ésto ser verdad?
Fidel dice que hasta el presidente fuma mis cigarros
Que los tiene escondiditos en su oficina
En una caja fuerte detrás del cuadro de Washington.
Fidel dice que no está muerto, pero
¿Cómo le puedo creerle
las palabras a un ciego?
Si por los ojos se notan
Las infidelidades que
Cometimos contra la verdad.
Fidel dice que todo hombre
Merece un buen whisky
Después de una cena de arroz
Y habichuelas negras.
Fidel dice que la vida es una preparación para la verdad,
Una muerte solitaria.
Fidel dice que hasta el amor cobra impuestos, querido
Pero, ¿cómo ésto pudiera ser verdad?
Fidel dice que la sinceridad es
Un precio mínimo
Para pagar por ser el dueño de tus lunes.
Fidel dice que no hay uso con preocuparse con el futuro
Porque el presente está justamente vivido.
Fidel dice que hasta el amor cobra impuestos, querido
Pero...
¿Cómo ésto pudiera ser la verdad?
Yo, felicidad y una
hormiga Contemplando tus ojos De chocolate con caramelo Y tus rizos de brea y humo, Me di cuenta que sería feliz Si pudiera vivir en tu pecho. Quisiera ser yo una hormiga Para balancearme en las colinas de tus pómulos Y colgar una hamaca entre dos pestañas rizadas; Para besar tus labios con cada paso de mis pies Y vivir detrás de tu oreja. Quisiera ser una hormiga Para dormir encima de tus clavículas Y sentir el latido de tu corazón, Hasta cuando tu voz es ausente. Quisiera ser una hormiga Para que cuando te olvides de mí Puedo ser feliz de que seguramente Fue debido a mi tamaño Y no a tu opinión de mí. Nunca basta Aunque sostenga mis pómulos Con lujuria indentada El rojo de mi rubor nunca basta. Aunque adorne mis costados Con encajes y bordados La dulzura de mi pudor nunca basta. Aunque suavize mis labios Con mil halagos y agravios La sinceridad de mi sudor nunca basta. Y si encojo mi cintura Con mil dietas y pinturas La inocencia de mi rencor nunca basta. Fiel artista, fiel pintor, ¿Por qué cambias la obr Para no alterar el cuadro? Si por frasco sin igual Me llevas a algún mol Para escoger otro envase. Fiel poeta, escultor, ¿Por qué el espejo no muestra mentiras? ¿Por qué esta cintura no basta y estas caderas me sobran? ¿Por qué me tendrás si no te agradan? Es que si mi ser fuera perfecto, De pies a cabeza en todos aspectos, La fieldad de mi amor por tí Nunca te basta.
You'll have to excuse the lack of spanish grammar, as my new comp is unable to do such things. Ah, advances in modern technology, I bite my thumb at thee.
Search
I am
searching.
for something I have
no intention
of finding
no contentions.
I am
being.
in the bottom of my soul
alone
no perceptions
no
misconceptions.
no
compromise.
when I
look at you
you shine so
true
so
dull
you are so
different
now.
you've forgotten
who I was to you
and you don't even try
to
remember.
“Verde que te quiero verde
verde viento, verdes ramas.”
-fgl
el particular amarillo
de tus ojos de anillo
se suben por balcones
que se quiebran de marfil
que clase de anis
guardaras en tus labios?
pensaras en mi
hasta cuando te agravio?
quiero colgarme de tus cortinas
hacerte el amor sobre una cama de telarañas.
todo por ver tu ojos dorados
mientras tus manos hacen hazañas
dibujo tu cara
con cada oportunidad que me da la vida.
y siempre termino pensando
en tus ojos amarillos
que me miran
con preguntas obvias en sus pupilas
Dream Lover
I close my eyes
when I feel your lips on mine
I
forget to take my time
and I
remember exactly why
it is that
I dream about you.
I close my eyes
when I want to
fantasize
about
a
great night together
forget
the weather
or that
I’ll probably never see you again
even
though
we're
perfect
for each other
to love
each other over
and dream
and forget.
about herWhat is the meaning behind your birth name?
Submitted by turtlegod.
My given name is Alexandra.
I share it with the Greek prophet Alexandra, more commonly known as Cassandra, who spent a night in Apollo's temple. The snakes licked her ears clean, and because of this, she was able to forsee the future. Apollo fell in love with her, but she didn't love him back, and he placed a curse on her to prevent everybody from believing her prophecies.
There were many Alexanders in Czar Nicholas II's family, and it is from his maternal grandmother, Maria Alexandrovna of Heese-Darmstadt, that I take my name.
My grandmother nicknamed me Araña, the Spanish word for "spider."
I have since used it as an artistic pseudonym, and its roots are also found in Greek mythology.
Arachne was a master weaver in Athens, and she was so proud of her work that she boasted that her weaving was better than that of the goddess Athena. Athena transforms into an old lady and warns Arachne to respect the deities, but Arachne, true to mythological form, not only challenges the goddess herself to a weaving contest, she weaves a tapestry of the twenty-one episodes of the gods' infidelities. In one telling of the myth, Arachne hangs herself when she realizes her mistake. In others, Athena punishes the foolish girl by turning her into a spider.
Araña is also the alter ego of Anya Sofia Corazon, Marvel's latina female Spider-Woman.
]]>
Show us an awesome mustache.
Submitted by Soup.
In honor of the upcoming Olympics, what could you win a gold medal in?
Submitted by TheFiercestCalm.
I think I would win an Olympic medal in awesomeness.
I don't know if any of you on the big bad internetz know this, but I am the reason why Saturn is still in one piece.
A couple of years ago, several races of aliens threatened the civilization on Saturn. I had been going to Saturn almost every weekend for about a year in my friend's minivan and already I had built a nice little gas lake-front house and a reputation to go with it.
Around the first year anniversary of my first visit to one of the outer planets, we were visited by several groups of malevolent aliens who wanted to get rid of my nice little weekend home and the gas lake that was in front of it. Now, me and my other human friends love the tanning on Saturn. It's nice and cool, and it's much too far away from the sun that the UV doesn't reach you as fast as it does on Earth. I was not about to let this happen.
And so, a rubber band, two glow sticks, an out-of-tune Fender guitar, and seven shorn sheep later those fuckers were back on their home planet with a few sore appendages.
That's pretty damn awesome.
]]>I've got a podcast, na na-na- na-na nahhhh.
*dances around*
I'm still at home, and I'm still editing last night's audio.
I got a sweet surprise and am still reeling from the memory of it.
Can't wait.
]]>ugh.
Just got back home and finished editing a couple of episodes for the podcast, and now I'm freaking dying because I am extreeeemely tired.
I also have no new anything for poetry night, which means that I have to stop listening to Timothy Francine Henson and start writing.
I also have to shower.
Bad.
]]>It is currently one oh seven, and I have counted the blog entries I'm supposed to have to the ones I actually do, and have come up short. As of July second, I am supposed (emphasis on the word "supposed") to have ten blog entries, and including this one, I have seven.
And so, in order to rectify this amazing mistake, I am going to...
rectify.. it.
Yes.
Moving on.
Let me give you a slice of my life.
(Hence the cunningly and cleverly crafted title of the entry.)
I am seventeen.
I am currently enjoying what is left of my summer vacation and what is starting to become a very enjoyable indie rom-com in which I am currently the co-star.
I'm the host/editor/bumbling creative breeze behind The Poet's Passage Podcast. If it's on the internetz, that's my fault. I am very sorry.
And I am in Puerto Rico.
Sure, yuk it up. You'll laugh now because I'm on a ridiculously small island that has a ridiculously high humidity percentage, but when hell freezes over and global warming turns the Arctic Sea into a hot tub, I'll be wearing a wool sweater and going "What?!!?!?! Betch."
Let's see. Most people I meet consider me to be a poet, but I prefer to be labeled as "stable."
My hands don't like being still, and my ears love to hear new and strange things.
My motto has always been : If you love it, set it on fire and then film it and frame the cat.
(I'll get you, cats.)
]]>