How am I not myself? Jon Hillenbrand, June 21, 2008December 30, 2015 I am an impostor standing alone secretly regarding the twenty-five kinds of gourmet waters available for purchase at prices similar to the wine. Ironically the granola-lined asphalt of the parking lot welcomed in my turbocharged Subaru with the ultra high performance tires, three inch exhaust and carbon fiber wing as much as it invited in the naturally-aspirated Subaru wagons with bike racks, baby seats and hybrid envy. Green is still green, and the green to be made taking advantage of the green-craze is pretty significant. Whole Foods, or Whole Paycheck as a friend of mine calls it, seems poised to lift up into orbit with the amount of green ego powering the cash registers, espresso machine, and self-serve imported potato salad accent lights. And then there’s me, standing here with my leather belt and wasteful ways like a baby-seal-clubber on a Greenpeace-liveried Boston Whaler. I fit in because I like the utility of cargo pants. But if you look closely, I’m an amateur purchasing the vacu-sealed ten slices of smoked ham at seven dollars a package. It’s barely enough for two sandwiches. And though when I get home, it does taste good, it goes too quickly. Maybe I’ll return to the Jewel and purchase double the amount of food for the same sixty dollars and just deal with the harsh fluorescents, intrusive cell phone conversations and gauntlet of homeless beggars that line the walkways to the entrance. Whole Foods is a library. The Jewel is a cheap car wash. But I am not there yet for I am standing before this display case of clear liquid, French, Fiji, Artesian, replenishing, caffeinating, restoring water, the most common element on the planet, at five dollars a shot, laughing at the irony of the MPG rating of the technologically sophisticated hybrid car being lower than the more-efficient cheaper simpler gas car, it’s owner filling his nemesis land fills with New York and Paris-designed perfume-esque water bottles, and laughing at myself spending an hour here collecting strange new products for one decent home cooked meal that I won’t mooch. Poetry photography
Poetry Smear July 1, 2012December 30, 2015 I wouldn’t change a thing about you. It would change the skipping of the record and labotomize us both…then we could share an IV bottle together, honey nectar for veinous rivers. Path forward, through the universes, chopping with my fingers through the literal weeds. You’re a sunlit green and black… Read More
Poetry The Perils of an Open Mind April 23, 2010December 30, 2015 Absolutes of ideology are succulent butter to people who are in the checklist stage of preparing to sail with Greenpeace, pasting enlarged dead baby photos to poster boards, annoying their coworkers into voting for someone or screaming about the dangers of running with scissors. Read More
Poetry Life Should Be Delicious August 18, 2010December 30, 2015 I woke up with vomit in my mouth. The kind of dirty stink that makes you run to a cup of anything to change the experience. All night I had been bent at the waist, feeling my body implode, stopped only by the frozen stomach muscles that I hadn’t felt… Read More