We meet our density

Shontae and Angela with Crispin Glover

Dear Jacket

It's that time of year again. I know that it's soon, but the premature cool weather has given me reason to layer. However, I am not in your arms. You are at home, on my chair, in the barren bedroom. Jacket, I have been cheating on you again. First it was Blazer, now it has become Jean. While Jean Jacket is hip and fitted nicely, you, Jacket (original Jacket), are still my number one at heart. I've worn you in the snow when it was thermally inappropriate, I've worn you in May just for fun, I've worn you while dancing to Billy Idol songs. You're always at the greatest of events and appearing in the greatest of memories. Do not fret! Just know that the first days of fall when we can smell leaves and pumpkins in the air, I will be with you.

Love,
Angela

Shontae and I go to jail.

Shontae's mug shot

My mug shot

You're Lili St. Cyr!

What Classic Pin-Up Are You?
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lunch, today

Seriously, I appriciate when people I don't know well come to a restaurant with Burmese food and Malaysian food and don't act freaked out by the exotic variety and the unpronouncable names and the all the lemongrass and coconut rice, seriously, is it weird that I care so much about the fact that he seemed so nonchalant about getting a special sort of soup I will probably never see again unless I went to Burma or Malaysia and didn't cross his eyes and didn't ask the waiter ignorant questions and didn't even act pretentious at the onset of tofu and more lemongrass and his spicy chai, seriously, there was not a word from the table of the chopsticks and deeply ethnic food under the ceiling fans and early 20th century ceilings hanging high like the smoke from the kitchen as the new cook lost his way.


(yeah, and I seriously skipped work again today and went to eat with some friends.)

Ripped from the clutches of Shontae

New model 'permits time travel'
By Julianna Kettlewell, BBC News science reporter

If you went back in time and met your teenage parents, you could not split them up and prevent your birth - even if you wanted to, a new quantum model has stated.

Researchers speculate that time travel can occur within a kind of feedback loop where backwards movement is possible, but only in a way that is "complementary" to the present. In other words, you can pop back in time and have a look around, but you cannot do anything that will alter the present you left behind. The new model, which uses the laws of quantum mechanics, gets rid of the famous paradox surrounding time travel.

Paradox explained
Although the laws of physics seem to permit temporal gymnastics, the concept is laden with uncomfortable contradictions. The main headache stems from the idea that if you went back in time you could, theoretically, do something to change the present; and that possibility messes up the whole theory of time travel. Clearly, the present never is changed by mischievous time-travellers: people don't suddenly fade into the ether because a rerun of events has prevented their births - that much is obvious. So either time travel is not possible, or something is actually acting to prevent any backward movement from changing the present.

For most of us, the former option might seem most likely, but Einstein's general theory of relativity leads some physicists to suspect the latter. According to Einstein, space-time can curve back on itself, theoretically allowing travellers to double back and meet younger versions of themselves.

And now a team of physicists from the US and Austria says this situation can only be the case if there are physical constraints acting to protect the present from changes in the past. Weird laws The researchers say these constraints exist because of the weird laws of quantum mechanics even though, traditionally, they don't account for a backwards movement in time.

Quantum behaviour is governed by probabilities. Before something has actually been observed, there are a number of possibilities regarding its state. But once its state has been measured those possibilities shrink to one - uncertainty is eliminated. So, if you know the present, you cannot change it.

If, for example, you know your father is alive today, the laws of the quantum universe state that there is no possibility of him being killed in the past. It is as if, in some strange way, the present takes account of all the possible routes back into the past and, because your father is certainly alive, none of the routes back can possibly lead to his death.

"Quantum mechanics distinguishes between something that might happen and something that did happen," Professor Dan Greenberger, of the City University of New York, US, told the BBC News website.

"If we don't know your father is alive right now - if there is only a 90% chance that he is alive right now, then there is a chance that you can go back and kill him. But if you know he is alive, there is no chance you can kill him."

In other words, even if you take a trip back in time with the specific intention of killing your father, so long as you know he is happily sitting in his chair when you leave him in the present, you can be sure that something will prevent you from murdering him in the past. It is as if it has already happened.

"You go back to kill your father, but you'd arrive after he'd left the room, you wouldn't find him, or you'd change your mind," said Professor Greenberger.

"You wouldn't be able to kill him because the very fact that he is alive today is going to conspire against you so that you'll never end up taking that path leads you to killing him." Greenberger and colleague Karl Svozil introduce their quantum mechanical model of time travel on the ArXiv e-print service.

Story from BBC NEWS: http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/science/nature/4097258.stm Published: 2005/06/17 10:03:47 GMT © BBC MMV

and she never says goodbye when she leaves

Indigo ran off with lavender
to be more like her
feminine self tasting
petunias and cantelope
without having to share
sagging brooding blue's
iced bathwater chai

I can never seem to find
why she let herself all gloom
though rinds can be intimidating
and polen makes her sneeze
and her eyes itch and burn
orange when she sleeps

Never did she dream in
green after choking
on cloves cracking
like the fire in her
anxiety since
the age of periwinkle

Delicately her master
sharpens the yellow from
the back end but never
the ones she stood next
to in class photos

I've Gone Ornery
she scribbles on the cover
of a plucked flower
exhales a cleansing
breath and wonders aloud,

But what is petunia?

Overnight, graciously
I deliberatly
needed Indigo

but she's never there in the morning.

In memory of Andrew because I miss that fish!

As Shontae and I are talking fishy, I must pause and remember my favorite fish of all time, Andrew. For those of you who have been faithful fans of my blogity blog, you may remember when my betta fish died (because I am stupid and left the window open for him to freeze like a fishstick). I was very sad and felt very guilty, and I even took the effort to make a coffin and grave for him. Now Andrew resides in a purple Kleenex box, decorated appropriatly with lilies, inside of his cuppy (where he liked to take Time Out or naps) behind the Grotto at my school. So, St. Bernadette and Mother Mary watch over his plot while I take classes next door in Aquinas.

I am sure that Andrew is somewhere now with his girlfriend the headless mermaid in the ocean of the Galapagos Islands, hanging out with ignuanas and flaring at purple jelly fish.

Whoever thought one could miss a fish, however, he was a good one and had a lot of personality. I'm debating whether I would want another one or not because it may not be the same, or it would be the same and I would feel guilty replacing Andrew.

Or, I could get real and eat fish sticks.

Do you have a problem with my garlic pizza?

and there were pockets all along

I got this skirt at the Gap for 12 bucks, and I always thought that pockets on it were fake, until last night at Gooski's with Crystal, and I was a little drunk, when I found these little pockets are actually pockets. They'd been sewn up all this time, and I just realized all I had to do was push on through and Bam I had pockets.

(SEAN)

When I don't care that gross food is gross I make myself believe that it will make me strong, like superhero stronger. Such as the various treats I pick up on my Saturday morning break from work. The sausage biscuits from 7-11, the 49 cent cheeseburgers from McDonald's. They're not real food, so they must have such a high amount of preservatives and radioactive fillers that someday I will just start glowing bright green and be able to shoot lightening bolts at moving cars.

This is what makes time travel possible

I wear a size Medium or Small.

My favorite email of the moment

Date: Tue, 12 Jul 2005 09:42:40 -0400
From: Molly F Prosser
To: Angela Bayout
Subject: RE: Tropico?


ps. Yams rule.

PART 2. (see below-)

The "(1)" are meant to be superscripts.

The Electric Birds

The creamy slips of
the Sunday ads
spilling from the dollar
Gazette remind me
of Bisquick pancakes
and raw alkaline
cores
of peaches forced
passed the tongue
like cold cough
syrup spoons.

Wires grid air
into new Enumeration
Districts, electric
birds
trapeze singers
welcome me home(1)

-where in the closet behind the stale wool coat is still that plastic bag stretched out like a faded tank top. Tentacles spill from the hems of scrap plaid cotton the same starch texture as the first time I wore a strapless dress in the mirror behind the door and then in the reflection of his red hatchback that could have been stolen from a funhouse, and he liked that dress so much it ripped under his snarky foaming smirk I misunderstood for a smile.

(1)The first summer I
lived alone in the
city I wore nothing
but old tank tops
and underpants on
the hottest weekends
of July while the oven
heated for Bisquick
biscuits I kneaded
with my own
agile fingers made
for pens. Peaches
were a commodity
then that I didn’t
have to swallow
with the charcoal
biscuits and tablespoons
of dollar
marmalade
while watching cars
parallel park
from the sitting sill
of my bedroom window.

I’d listen to the electric
birds on wires strung
parallel from each
other, cutting the air
in shallow slits
and the birds take
steep plunges, spilling
into the street
below.

Help Angela get something done this summer, Part 1

The following posts, assuming I do not slack off, will be poems that I think are good, but, hell, they may be trash, this is embarassing to show my little kids off to the world, or at least to people outside my writer friends, but in honor of sucking it up, have a look and feel free to say whatever you like, (Shontae).
Also, blogger is a nerf herder, so the complete formatting will not be as I like, I cannot do tabs or spacing really, so focus on the meaning, just like some people don't do when they think about life. But, maybe there is no meaning to life.


possible submission #1

"body was found by a moose hunter"

-and how dissonant it would be for her to die in a snow patch like bad cabbage and escorted by the Northern angels with their purple and turquoise ribbons. Helium penetration.

She had said,
-There was an antebellum incident when telegraphs spontaneously combusted all over the world and pregnant girls in Rome with sundresses as skin saw the Aurora Borealis but I won't ever see the lights in Alaska until the moose hunter checkmates my long gone soul with his smoking rifle while the moose and I spy from the solar storms in the sky.

My dreams are coming true...

September 3 @ 8:00pm September 4 @ 8:00pm
- SPECIAL EVENT -
An Evening with Crispin Hellion Glover featuring"WHAT IS IT?" (2005) and "THE BIG SLIDE SHOW" -Tickets $15.00 - NOW AVAILABLE!

WINNER - BEST NARRATIVE FILM - 2005 Ann Arbor Film Festival. Having already premiered at several renowned international film festivals (including Sundance, Ann Arbor, and the New York Underground), Crispin Hellion Glover's independently produced feature "WHAT IS IT?" along with "THE BIG SLIDE SHOW" rides a wave of audience intrigue and critical acclaim to this Pennsylvania Premiere at The Oaks Theater, presented in collaboration with The Andy Warhol Museum (http://www.warhol.org). A multi talented visionary actor, writer, director, and performance artist, Glover’s feature film credits include “Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle” (2003), “Willard” (2003), “Bartleby” (2001), “Charlie’s Angels” (2000), “Nurse Betty” (2000), “The People Vs. Larry Flynt” (1996), “Dead Man” (1995), “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape” (1993), “The Doors” (1991), “Wild At Heart” (1990), “River’s Edge” (1986), and “Back to the Future” (1985).

"THE BIG SLIDE SHOW" is a unique performance presentation wherein Glover dramatically narrates, performs, and projects slides from ten of his own books, including Rat Catching, Oak Mot, and What It Is And How It Is Done. Glover describes his ten-years-in-the-making feature film directorial debut, "WHAT IS IT?," as "the adventures of a young man whose principal interests are snails, salt, a pipe, and how to get home, as tormented by an hubristic racist inner psyche." The first piece in a trilogy that, among other things, challenges common notions of common culture, "WHAT IS IT?" features a cast of predominately Down Syndrome actors, while stirring themes and images (horrific , comic, dramatic) that defy easy summarization and evoke a range of varied and conflicting responses in the viewer.

The complete program, including both "THE BIG SLIDE SHOW" and "WHAT IS IT?" will be followed by an open question-and-answer session with Crispin Hellion Glover each night. Select books and CD will also be available for purchase and signing both evenings.PLEASE NOTE THAT ADMISSION IS RESTRICTED TO PERSONS 18 AND OLDER.Tickets ($15.00) for this special event are NOW AVAILABLE for purchase in person at The Oaks Theater box office.

Ointment

1. We were in the know before the know became known.
2. We are cooler than water.
1. Auto response from lasanges: Soap oh I know I know.
2. If we were any cooler we'd be shivering.

3. when there is no Stella
3. did you guys leave before us?
3. he's your Mr. Tambourine Man

45and6.






and I like how she walks while eating a sausage biscuit, without a purse, and might as well be barefoot-she mentally waves to the hot dog man in the drivethru window that sits on the sidewalk he sits past the dusty screen not intending to grill anything really just wishing he could have a cigarette and it makes me laugh, too, that she could have stopped at the corner to finish biscuits and have a smoke herself, but that would have been in bad taste afterall.

alloverthe hardwoodfloor

to iron cuffs on the floor and the chargers there too but not the telephone that's been forgotten just like a radio. floss is calling me these days

I want to be in a high school English class

I miss having English classes where we read novels at a slow pace and answer mindless questions about the things we read on a worksheet for homework. And then, Derek McBride can ask me for the answers because he never reads and then I can refuse to give him any answers unless he promises to stop scribbling dirty words on my papers and in my books, and even then I won't help him cheat on his homework. Then, at the end of the unit on American poetry or on 1984 I can work tirelessly on a project in which I make a collage concerning what we read or write a dramatization from a certain character's point of view and then present it to the class, to which Derek McBride will ask me stupid questions and Mrs. Rettger will tell him to shut up.
I miss high school English...