Reruns, Syndication & Reiteration

"Find Chubby Art Chicks"




"If, after I depart this vale, you ever remember me and have thought to please my ghost, forgive some sinner, and wink your eye at some homely girl." -- H.L. Mencken's epitaph



I sing the body articulate looking for love (?) for pseudointellectual banter (?) for companionship obsessed (?) find chubby art chicks beautiful women all shapes all sizes find artistic expression in fishnets and skirts no black no black but sort of intriguing not quite interesting it's art the body articulate finds the body inanimate looking for ideal when they could be searching the shapely illogic of the pseudointellect find chubby art chicks find love find banter find yourself without going to California.
 
(2008)
 
Heaven 1997


I stood outside the club, dark, the rain splashing in puddles around me; the only thing keeping me dry a canopy and a thin, miserable excuse for a jacket. I could feel the vibrations of music from inside. All I really wanted was a cigarette to go with my cup of whiskey. I noticed that not too many women come to shows like this, and when they do, there's usually a boyfriend-- or male approximation of-- not too far ahead (or in some cases, in tow). I sipped thoughtfully, hoping, surprisingly enough, that some tobacco carrying soul might approach for a round of small talk. This never happened.

I considered leaving the fucking place. Taking my cup and never looking back. I don't like music anyway. At least not that shit. And those people! Those fucking people with their band shirts and their clove cigarettes and their stupid dances. FUCK THEM.
 
So I leave. Just. Walk away. It's better this way.
 
(2008)
 
Es un "cliché"
sino tus labios
son como
el sabor
de vino tinto
y tus ojos
son como
"limpid pools"
así que
en los desaparezco
sin aliento
me ahogo

...bueno,
ahorita estoy pensando
que
si nado para seguridad
dejarás la lluvia de tus emociones
y no me matarás
como le hiciste a tu papá

but anyway

Olvídate esos tonterías

Soy cómico.
 
(2009)
 

"Buying condoms in the grocery store."



I shit you not, I was in the express lane at Kroger with a couple bottles of PLONK and a big box of condoms, and the old lady behind me smiled and winked. I winked back and put my arm around her. The burly black guy behind the counter goggled at me. "Yeah, man," I said. "I'm not ashamed. I like a bit of mature."

(2009)


"Kissing"


Kissing is only great when drunk with desire or drunk with booze. Anything else is mauvaise foi.
 
(2009)
 
Day 9. Sex.


I called you from a payphone outside your boyfriend's apartment complex. See, lucky for me, before I did my laundry that day, I felt through the pockets of my favorite jeans. The wadded up piece of cocktail napkin. Your name in all caps and your number beneath.

MELINDA.

832-XXX-XXXX

You answered and asked where I was calling from. An undisclosed location, I said. You chuckled and told me that it was a weird number for a cell phone. I forgot to pay my cell phone bill, I answered.

"Melinda," I said, "I think that you're the most beautiful woman in existence. How does dinner under the stars followed by sex sound to you?"

You hung up.

Fucking call girls.
 
(2007)

All writings and photos by Patrick Patterson-Carroll