There is No Such Thing As God

This blog is back muthafuckah. Just arrivin' back from the layer of the vast unknown. I found out something useful to all, God doesn't exist! Now all of our problems are finally solved! Most of the things you've done wrong in the past are your own fault, not the fault of a divine will! Isn't that exciting? You also don't have to base your vote on the issue of abortion anymore! How wonderful! We can also go ahead and keep

It is possible that not all of you are convinced by my newly-formulated theory. Your wondering where my empirical evidence is. You're thinking my evidence is AWOL, like a weapon of mass destruction. I say suck my dick, here's my fucking evidence. View the link and find out for yourself and tell me if you still believe in God. And if you argue with the banana theory it probably means you got some shit stuck in your ass.

A Very Tight Poem

It must be said that I enjoy these records. Currently "Beatles '65" is spinning on the ol' turntable. Its pretty much the U.S. version of "Beatles for Sale" and is not as good (they omit tracks on the U.S. version), but it is nevertheless still the Beatles and still vinyl. I finally set up a turntable in my tiny ass room, and now old fashioned vinyl sound encompasses all. My room may be tiny, but much power comes from it. My house now has three turntable systems, which is literally the description of an old vinyl-head's wet dream

I got this very tight poem I wrote. Note how literary I am while reading it. Powerful allusions are tough for the average man to comprehend, but not the average Roosta. Before I begin, let me just say that the poem is copyrighted as MINE, that is, on the date of October 2nd, 2005, I wrote it (maybe), and I am posting it on the date above.

The following poem is untitled, but if you want to give it a title, use the first line. Now enjoy this muthafuckah!

Passing one-footed through the fine-wooded trees,
T’was an old yellow park need be forever clean,
Leaves fell in rhythm of a cyclic ease,
A placed path traced past a naturalist’s scene,
Middle season commenced and arose a close breeze,
Nature’s face radiates grand warmth so keen,

Yet yellow turned to black, turned to grey threw white,
Adjustment of surge urged another side:
“Let’s challenge the Natural, Let’s put up a fight!”
And Man succeeded in accomplishing pride,
He castrated the terrain with dynamite!
Now the half-past dead of the end reside,

What once enclosed innocence emits irrelevance,
And chose to propose freeway in flight,
Lies in a flask of human dependence,
Thus fallen and darkened; forging all might.

Now lies no commons, only built residence,
Hence loud went thunder that upraised a fence,
Protruding a condo; erasing all confidence,
The Conceiver of this shelter has lacked common sense!

Minnesota Crime Wave: The Unedited Version

I apologize for the boredom of the last post. I actually copied and pasted an essay I had to write covering the "Minnesota Crime Wave" event for my Creative Writing class. That doesn't sound very creative for a blog post, does it? For that reason I decided to make another version that my teacher wouldn't read; something uncensored. Writers can never express their true beauty when writing on someone else's standards. This time its my turn to show you the true beauty of my writing written on my OWN standards, instead of my TA's. So if the last post was the censored, "I'm gonna get a good grade" version, consider this the uncensored, "raw" version. I must warn you, the following could be very offensive to some:

Minnesota Crime Wave is the biggest pile of bullshit fuck in Minnesota. The fat bitch that was very Minnesotan (I can't remember her fucking name) was shitty. Fucking horseshit donkey piss; what a whore. All of the stories sucked dick. The novel Silence of the Loons is most likely the kind of bullshit pussy garbage that you expect. Fuck that shit. A bunch of corny shitballs. Fuck the literary movement. They can suck my dick.
All of the local literary followers are pussies. Those at the Loft Library Center (where this bullshit garbage took place) are a bunch of square dickheads. What a waste of my fucking time. Fuck that bullshit fucking asshole dumbass fuck. Fuck my Creative Writing class and fuck the whole fucking program. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. All of those dickheads are pussy-eaters.
I remember when I first walked into the door of the Loft Center, and I saw a pig. Why was there a pig at the fucking Loft. Since when do fuckos' go to the Loft? Fuck the Loft, this class, and this essay.

I hope now you realize that this shorter, yet to-the-point essay would be what I would turn in to my TA if it wasn't for the bias tendencies of the U's Creative Writing program. They would label this as "trash" and dismiss it entirely. If they want to be bias and base a whole program on their own literary standards, then let the injustice continue.

Minnesota Crime Wave

On Thursday, November 10th, I attended a touring of a new local mystery anthology consisting of contributions from thirteen Minnesota mystery authors. Entitled Silence of the Loons: Thirteen Tales of Mystery by Minnesota's Premier Crime Writers, this anthology was comprised of an idea to showcase the talent of local mystery writers by having each selected author contribute a short story. Silence of the Loons originated from an idea by members of the Minnesota Crime Wave, a local literary mystery movement. In the back of the book, eight clues linked to each story are given, and each author was to incorporate at least four of these clues in their own work. The idea was to link each story together with the clues yet rely on the authors to include them in their own original ways.
The presentation had all thirteen authors read a “teaser” section of their short contributions. In the vein of mystery writing, each author ended their presentations with a cliffhanger. This eventually did get irritating, yet respect for the writers couldn’t be denied; it seemed as if they were pulling off marketing scheme techniques soundly. Why would cliffhangers work? Is it because they are always and expected sacrament in the mystery genre? Possibly, but I see the cliffhangers as authentic, traditional marketing schemes in the name of literature. Regardless of achieving my respect, there were still moments when the cliffhanger approach seemed too ambiguous for the audience.
For instance, when writer Lorie Lake went to present some of her text taken form
her inclusion, “Take Me Out”, she failed to give the audience an idea about what her
story was actually about. Lake may have only been presenting for two minutes after she
got off the stage. This made it difficult to get a comprehensive idea of her story, and she even admitted that she “cheated the audience” by doing this. Lake was only excusable in the fact that she remained honest. None of the authors were pretentious or self-righteous (character traits I’ve observed in many local ‘nobody’ writers), yet sometimes an author would give unnecessary praise to one of their influences during their short presentations, which had me wishing that they were more self-righteous.
An example of this was seen when Helen Hart gave a small presentation on her short tale, “Norwegian Noir”. She was presented as a writer in Lesbian Mystery. This introduction got me immediately curious in the relatively specific genre of Lesbian Mystery, yet her story for Silence of the Loons turned out to be a light, silly departure from her ‘lesbian’ field of choice. “Norwegian Noir” was a comic mystery involving many references to Garrison Kiellor (doesn’t anyone get tired of hearing about him?) topped off with a friendly dedication to the legend by Hart during her presentation. It’s always polite to hear credited praise, but more times than most it is unnecessary. Still, it is unfair to judge a writer by their personal, public character rather than their fictional, literary characters, so I can’t hold their public personas against them.
What I can admit is that each brief presentation was obviously intended to give the sojourner an early taste-test of Silence of the Loons. Since I usually don’t read anything in the mystery genre, the presentation gave me more of an idea about the literary style it requires. Most of the sections read by each author were tantalizing and entertaining; and I got the impression that this was all the authors intended to achieve. If
you would like more information on Silence of the Loons or the Minnesota Crime Wave,
you can visit the website at www.minnesotacrimewave.org.

Midwaye Returns

I have traveled many leagues across the Multiverse, vestered past the Infinite, had I gone further I wouldn't have remembered possibility. But let me tell you, I have just experienced a phenomenon that has been best known as muffin-eating. The muffin is mightier than the bagel, doughnut, or danish. Sweeter, more cake like, 'cept leaner than cup cakes. And the Roosta saw it, and it was good. Shit pie donkey blood.
I have returned to Orinary Reality, blasting interplasmic feelings through your naked vessels. My wording could add churning to you ever awakened beauty. Ooh, Roosta, you just gettin' too good at 'dis. I know, baby, just chill. Be sure to check out some new shit from the latest Grasshoppaz development. New shit from the Wang-Slangaz, some side shit to groove wit'. They droppin' Tha New EP Shit out in this plasmic muthafuckah.