Richard John Cyril “Rick” Allen

Here I weep
Baby Streep.
My Meryl. O peep

Nat’s poems
Took a while
To write.

I rigged a giant foam finger to the top of my SUV, so my Explorer is referring to itself, bouncing down Pico

Fucking farmer

My dad’s subscription
to Wired
in 1995—[womanly regard??]

Leaving verbs out of a poem
To make it sound Poemy

Do you think foam is funny, you fuck?
Wish you were a washed-up professional mtn biker?
Wish you raced with a plastic water-bottle full of espresso?
Berms? Where’s Jon? I thought I saw him the other day.

Question-litanies are poemy.
In MFA programs they teach you to cut out the more self-reflexive stanzas?

—I quit.
—[Histrionic and relieved protests] No! You’re “invaluable”! What else will you do? You’ll be hanging by your neck from the rafters of the graduate student lounge by 2014. You know hanging yourself makes you involuntarily void your bowels, right?
—I thought that was a Wild West Tale. That won’t happen to me in the Midwest. The Midwest has a protective psychic mojo for me. The Age of Wire and String is nonfiction, as far as I’m concerned. This blog, read by your coworkers, makes it difficult for you to make the argument that you’re “too busy” to take on new responsibilities.
The periodical I work for had a typo in it. I am going blind. Typos are like tiny optical illusions. Is that microskull really a wee, skull-shaped loaf? It’s hard to tell. It’s easy to miss.
—That’s not a reason to quit. You’re like the—
— …drummer from Def Leppard. I know you, Barry.
[Slowly zoom in on the fan. Then, using a Video Toaster, the fan blades chop/dissolve into the next scene. The next scene is identical.]

—When the band sings the song with the lyrics that refer to the name of the town they’re playing in–
—I know. You love that.
—I do. The people who shout their nonverbal appreciations —
—You love them. I do too.

8 thoughts on “Richard John Cyril “Rick” Allen

  1. Babbitries have a grapefruity afterwaft. BF’s A is more…earthy.

    Are you inviting me to coffee or just asking how it ranks against these others? To the former, sure; to the latter, below both.

  2. I missed it over here. It’s much better than the rafters of my graduate student lounge. And if your friend Matt “Mailer-Daemon” Damon did have a show called Sportsbrah I would get cable so I could watch it (sorry, that last comment goes with another post). bye 4 now.

  3. Sometimes I write emails to my boss about how much I care about my coworkers and love them, and then I tell them to their face that Ihateyouyoufuck, so it’s cool re: productivity blogging, bro!

  4. I am self-important about blogging, as if “blogging” is a good enough activity in and of itself to justify busy-ness. Is this a sign I need to stop blogging? Maybe that means I need to get another job. Maybe I’m just a character in a Tao Lin novella. And my existence is a testament to Tao Lin’s genius. And I’m talking about how Tao Lin sucks. AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHEEEEEEELLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPP
    wanna hang out? you should come over for dinner, and we won’t look at computers, we’ll talk in real time. IF THAT EVEN EXISTS

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