More Bomb + Some Guante

This has officially deteriorated into the incoherent ramblings of a personal blog.

Bomb the music industry - Old and Unprofessional

I got seven gallons in my tank.
That's enough to get me back to Queens so I can write this song.

I got $300. I can pay rent this month.
Oh my god! Oh my god! It's just enough.
Oh my god! Oh my god! I'm all grown up.
I'm Oh my Oh my godddd!

Burritos, malt liquor, Katamari, broken tuner.
Burritos, malt liquor, Katamari, broken tuner.
Two days. Three bones times One Oh Oh.
Oh Oh my
Oh my godddd!

HOORAY for the young professionals!
We'll stay out of your way. We will give you the world.
We will find an easy way to live life far away from you.
Give head. Get ahead. Play dirty, not fair.
Be a billionaire. Be a jillion... aire.
But you'll all be same you'll all be same
until you're old and unprofessional like meee.

Oh my god! Oh my god!
Oh my god! Oh my god!

- Try having fun.



El Guante - Starfish

i'm standing in a school or a submarine
everything is grey and the walls could almost kiss one another
children are avalanching around my legs flowing into one another
thier faces erased by thier sheer numbers its too fucking dark
here, i think,
i might be drowning here and they all already ghosts though i'm the one without a heartbeat
and my job these days is to turn the lights on and pretend to be brave

The floor isn't there but it smells like unused paint brushes
the air is still, hanging just over this river or this sewer pipe full of hands and shoes and teeth
i see a teacher in a window a smiling face painted onto a crash test dummy
i forget where i'm going these children will grow up to be scarecrows

these children will snarl once at the world and they will be put down
these children will grow into the poems written about them
live in the spaces between the letters and shiver when the books open
and my job these days is to melt the winter with a flashlight, see

i work in afterschool program purgatory moving from school to school
siphoning tears and collecting poems
i keep the poems in a shiny leather briefcase i dump the tears out in the parking lot
and my job these days is to identify bodies
my job these days is to be the disney world full body suit Sisyphus
my job these days is to dream of starfish

tens of thousands gasping for breath on the beach being torn apart by the sea gulls
i toss a few back into the ocean and people tell me that i'm making a difference
but there is no honour in triage, only necessity and these children, well

they don't need one plucky white woman to pry them open and extract their genius
or one more straight A teach for america mirage tying to save them or
one more positive male role model teaching them how to write poetry
and my job these days is to be one more positive male role model teaching them how to write poetry
and it's killing me

a teacher once told me
that this is the curse of direct service
we make a difference just not enough of one

we are the bricks in the haunted house
doing an admirable job keeping the ceiling from collapsing but unable to remove the evil from the air
and my job these days is to be a hack exorcist
my job these days is to be a super hero in a coma
a strip mall santa claus
my job these days is to blindly feel my way through the jaded corners of these schools and not bleed too much
and suddenly i remember where i'm going

the guidance counselor
who is concerned that one of my students might be unstable because she wrote a poem about death
not knowing that death and suffering are pretty much all that thirteen year olds write about
but on my way to the office, an impossibly small boy cannonballs through the crowd, punches me in the shoulder and says
thank you

fuck
his name is brian, he says thank you, and he means it, and i'm stuck
some where between you're welcome and i'm sorry
i'm stuck staring at banners

"attitude is everything"
"no child left behind"
"i love my school" i'm stuck

and my job these days is not to make a difference, but to fight for a world in which I don't have to
my job these days is to try to find a way to be both brick and buildin'
to teach starfish to fly.