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Wednesday, December 2, 2009

"crossing several forbidden boundaries"


n oon between a plethor a
i end in a to arrive at b
h ind bowie john p lurk s
i nstictive trespass to o
l ate for turning o wel l
i guess i misunderstood u
s milling there overlos t
 m onastery debris my love.


13 footnotes:

Roo Gatsby said...

Strontium 9

Kelley said...

Elusive as always Chase. You know, May03 and April19 are about you. Come to Nashville sometime, aye.

AV said...

Said it once, and I'll say it again. Love this form.

Anonymous said...

the novelty of the structure cheapens it.

tender buttons said...

Er, right. That's kind of where I was aiming.

You know, kids write acrostics for school projects and stuff. I may use "nihilism" and "absolute" instead of "mommy" now, but the concept remains the same - falsely static, forced.

Likewise, I wanted to keep things static - force them into a conventional form - with someone who knew these childhood truisms would not work. So this poem is about exactly that - the "cheapening," of my perception of...well, lots of things. If love is a novelty. I have lots of work to do.

but thanks for the criticism. Seriously, post more.

I know who you are, too.

Anonymous said...

those several claims are yours to keep.

tender buttons said...

Alright listen.

I don't mind your sudden interest in scouring the internet for my presence.

But as I recall, our last communication ended with an agreement of sorts to not intrude on each other's lives anymore. I thought I was pretty goddamn friendly in my initial response to your criticism, but if you'd rather feign anonymity and start fucking with me, please just revert back to your initial trend of reading silently.

Nothing I have posted is about you. I do not plan to post anything about you. If you are searching for some indication of my current temperament, these pages will offer little accuracy. I can't imagine any other reason for your frequent visiting - and now commenting - other than to make me feel degraded, worthless, and pitiable. Again.

Don't make a habit out of it. I can't take seriously the remarks of someone so violent, so spiteful.

Anonymous said...

erh, i'm sorry but i think you have the wrong person... uhm.

tender buttons said...

haha. right.

so who are you then? that random twitter follower?

inverse stalking.

Anonymous said...

I like your blog. I would like it more if there were no comments anywhere, though.

I read it out of boredom. No need to scour for what you promote yourself. The current temperament tends to be with undetectable allusion, a pointless reason to view it. It's your online public journal that's personal of which you track everyone who visits.

The statement "those claims are yours to keep" is something you can say to anyone who seems to have plucked and redefined any key term used in initial criticism. It was also about you saying "I know who you are," you will agree is probably creepier then you having visitors of anonymity.

The statements you made about our last communication don't seem to fit the picture, by the way. You might be wrong.

tender buttons said...

Oh yeah, combat the boredom. Glad you're compromising your liking of my blog by further adulterating it with your own comments.

This is not a journal. It is a narcissistic experiment.

I don't mind being creepy; if anything I'm just adapting to the voyeuristic trends of the internet. I have been operating under the assumption that everyone who consistently reads my blog has been intimately involved with me - and it's a fairly accurate hypothesis according to Google Analytics. And what end to this? To eventually write a sad poem about how the only means to expand my audience would be to fuck more people.

If you're not who I think you are, then I apologize. But you write so much like someone I once knew very well. Wish fulfillment, maybe. Too much Freud this semester. And I don't retract what I said about providing more criticism.

Oh, and about the redefining: maybe I'm guilty of restructuring critique into compliment (my self-esteem is either delusionally high or totally sucks), but I struggle with the imposed fixity of something like "key term." I'm too invested in possibility to delimit a word's potential.

I might be wrong.

Anonymous said...

Just re-read the crazily vindictive shit you've said and count the beads on your wrist.

Kellex said...

foolish. foolish. foolish. The non-lunatic version of me realizes how fucking crazy tender buttons is. Sorry. My alter-ego is a whore.