This actually was an email. I think some people may be confused, I originally wanted to send out snail mail and fancy myself some kind of a half retarded Ernest Hemingway, but if you want an email instead, I can do that too. I suppose some people may think if they gave me their address, I could actually afford to get to their house. If you are another person who asked for one, it is on its way sometime before the end in 2012, and if you still want one, golly, just say so.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
As for my offer of personalized letters to anyone who asks. Here is one that I wrote to a person named Jordan. I think they might have asked for a letter to make fun of me, Jordan always seemed like a bit of a jock name. So you got me Jordan, go and print these out and paste them around the halls of the school, so everyone can laugh at me.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
What kind of guy would talk about wanting to update his blog more and then not do it for five days? This guy, that's who.
Here are some things I heard this one dumb poet saying.
"This sunset is so boring."
"I like vests so much, I scissor all my clothes up the middle."
"What's a adjective, babe?"
"This poem I wrote would be way better without all these words."
"I wish I could impress people by being angry about a lot of different things."
"Would the show Curb Your Enthusiasm be a good thing to write a poem about?"
"Can I go eat toast instead of doing this?"
"Poetic license? Shit, I just hope this place has a poetic liqour license."
~Some Dumb Poems~
My Sugar Man
"You're my sugar man." I said.
"I'm not sure what you mean." he said.
"You give me sugar." I said.
"Ok, no sorry." he said.
"You don't sell me candy?" I said.
"No." He said.
"Oh, I thought you were the guy from my corner store." I said.
"I'm not." He said.
"Sorry" I said, "I'm blind - from diabetes."
Uncle Swift Poppy
Dear Uncle Swift Poppy,
We always liked your name.
Dear Uncle Swift Poppy,
You brought our family shame.
Please change your name back to Swift Poppy,
We don't like you as Dennis Quaid.
-by Dennis Quaid's neice
What you said about my hubris, what did that mean?
I don't know that word.
I'm smarter than you anyway,
and better in most ways.
The Cheap Alcohol Society
The cheap alcohol society wants to get drunk for cheap.
We also want to meet new people.
If the new people are drunk,
we might try to kiss them.
If they're not,
we'll just try to drink for cheap.
The cheap alcohol society just wants to kiss drunk people.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
I've been doing some thinking about this blog, and if anyone reads it, I'll let you in on my thinking. I don't think this post is going to be funny.
I'd like to post more often. I'm thinking of a way to do that, but you know that Peter, Bjorn and John album, Writer's Block? Yeah, you get the point. Anyway, get off my back, you think it's easy to be blessed with my signature dumbish intellect? So maybe in between the longer things, I'll post shorter things, and inbetween the shorter things I'll post really dumb things. I also perform lively in Toronto from time to time, so maybe I'll let you know about those.
I'm kind of obsessed with letters, and I'd like to send short, personalized letters to anyone who sends me a mailing address. That would be great fun I think. I'm not expecting to get many requests, but if you think it would be too neat, email me at firstname.lastname@example.org, maybe we can make it a thing!
If you exist, and ever read this ol' pile of hay, thankyou. I've existed here for more than a year now. Any feedback about these ideas or any old thing is welcome.
I have rabies. Whoops, I mean, hey babies.
tom (d) henry