jeebus, this posting schedule is kicking me arse. the soundtrack to this post will be the gym class heroes. what can i say? i like my hipster hop. and i’ve seen them live and they’re fucking amazing. how do you not like hip hop with a live band? they also got such a dope steeze and sense of humour. but then again, they’re called hipster hop for a reason.
dude, weschler’s currywurst is fucking bomb. because my plans had fallen through last night… yes i got ditched… i hit up my local watering establishments for some late night alcohol and food.
how was i ’sposed to know i would find my new favorite watering hole? massive, amazing german beers poured by a hella efficient, friendly staff. currywurst, which i will officially say is one of my favorite foods ever. a wild boar sausage that was literally to die for.
alcohol and pork. how the hell do you go wrong with that?
but yes, i just needed to make a quick shoutout to the place before i got into the poem of the day. i hella recommend that folks should roll through there whenever they’re in the east village. and hey, since i live near there, you should hit me up, if’n i’m not already inside.
oh yeah, i won my slam last night. made a pretty penny. i’ll be back next month, alcohol money is worth slamming for.
but let me say again, this posting schedule is kicking my ass. i never realized how difficult it’d be to turn out a poem a day. jeebus. but yes, onto the poem’s intro. this piece comes from the fact that i really do have goddamn weird dreams, that are, to me anyways, completely believable while i’m in them. so i really will wake up thinking i was the bodyguard to the president and ate a bullet for him, or that i dived into a computer and rode on top of the fail whale.
awkward i know.
april 4th.
dream fail
i dreamt one time
the earth was invaded
by polkadotted unicorn space pirates
and the key to saving the world
was saving the stripper
one night, i thought i was superman
the asian dude who failed in math
and gave up the violin discovering
his gift for rescuing fair maidens
and cats stuck up in trees
the time you hadta carry me home,
drunk, i saw us as intergalactic ballerinas
our pirouettes encompassing
star systems, our soubresauts
like sun flares
when i passed out
at that party, i saw myself
as leonidas at the springs
holding off a legion
of fratboys with nothing but a braut
i woke up this morning
after having dreamt
we were still in love
turned to see you
next to me in bed, the assurance
in some deep part of myself
that all was right with the world
and realized how much
i hated dreaming
Tags: food and drink, poetry, project, ramblings, salt