MIKE YOUNG over at NOO JOURNAL is doing a little fundraiser. NOO is a great publication well worth supporting so I gave a few coins. In exchange he wrote a little poem for me. I know he called it RAD POETRY this time around as opposed to BAD POETRY, but I don't know. He tried I guess.
I'm just fucking with ya Mike. Here it is:
There's nothing wrong with being quietly astonished. Feta baked right into the bread, the woman who steals chalk with her thumb, cute girls in wheelchairs and librarians at the disco. Barry, you're an emperor of cheese and a Mickey D's apologist, which is great, like my roommate bought these jeans off EBay, but they didn't fit her, so she gave them to me. Little cares whether you do, but it's hard to shrug authentically, the world moving in bengal tigers and hyperthyroids, like one person will demand you shave and someone else will break a shot glass in your sink. But weather is the opposite of history. And/or March is great for seeing people you met in a barfight and thinking: Wait, I sort of punched that guy, they look nice, I wonder where they got that sweater, isn't it too hot for sweaters, what terrific wind, maybe I will say hello and we can reach into graffiti exclamation marks and emoticons over our memories. Maybe this will be the day I finally like metal music because it's so nice out and I can't think of the reasons why it's so tricky to just like everything. There must be some. I think I ate them.
That's him reading it in the video post right underneath this.
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