Vogonball Championships

Hello Friends,

I hope you are well. I am feeling pretty good these days,

But realize my nervous system is like the solar system--vast & unattainable

In its far-reaching dimensions & I'm only renting space in it until it

Kicks me out.

And since last summer, it keeps trying to kick me out

Every few weeks/months/days.

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This blog is a funny thing…it is my way of talking

Without having to call anyone on a phone and force them

To listen to my voice, or worse getting in their personal space & rambling on & on & on

All the stuff I ramble on quietly about in print. Lately,

I mostly write on & on about the choice I've made to transition from the one true gender

To the other true gender (because there are only 2 true genders in this world)

But I'm going to do something different now--

Instead of writing here about transitioning & all its convolutions 

I'm going to do that on my fabulous Tumblr page,

(Which I created to connect to more transitioning people, but which

Is mostly a younger crowd.) I will write my short, random confession-style

Thoughts about transitioning here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vindicationdonkeystar

Also---whenever I put the word 'Vogon' in the title of a blog, it gets tons of hits

From Russia

(and when there is a big airplane crash -- which there hasn't been in awhile -- my

Short story 'Distressica Finds The Source Of Happiness'  gets lots of hits)

Just some patterns I've noticed…patterns…patterns…blogosphere pitter-patter

Stream-of-conscious non-threatening pansexual jibber-jabber.

Speaking of which!!! Here are some Vogon poems from early this year. Enjoy.

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PHANTOMS FLYING OFF THE SHELF

Despite a hundred percent

Price hike

Back-ordered til Independence

Day – all single-malt drinking

Single dads and beer-swilling

Basement dwellers observe

The layaway lent

Til availability extends its hand

Til wrought iron fortresses flap

Like veils of Maya

Then leak like sieves and thread-

Bare doormats

Not committed to geospatial

Relations

Not all snipers make

Good nannies

What can we, the

Undisciplined

Aerialists modify to make

The phantom obey?

To convince the lark to spy

Or swallow anthrax?

To deliver boy band contraband

To Sasha & Malia

(by the way, can they come

out and play?)

The sprinklers, honestly

The worthiest defense

Spray them like mosquitos

From the sky,

Droning to their deaths as

Well-compensated sentinels

Decide there’s some playfulness

In the grave

Your phantom,

When it arrives,

When you fondle its

Dynamic and delicate parts—

and take them gently apart—

Will resonate only in the

Pathways of bats

Over drinks w/ a trusted

Yet disadvantaged neighbor who

Can’t wait to share in your

Reputable mission

You release

Your outgoing phantom & promise

It will find its intended 

Target by 3 a.m.

While you guide it from

Your inner wasteland

1-30-15

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Ancient unfinished art c. 1990 Just 'cuz

EVERYONE KNOWS

Everyone knows laughter is for

Fools who dropped out of

Society and can't find the ropes

To drop back in…

Everyone knows

A woman who is 8 heads tall

And wears a size zero shoe

Everyone knows 

A man w/ a beard who has won

A modern day sword fight

Everyone knows how to write code

Everyone knows how to make a tunafish sandwich

Everyone knows the difference

Between "sex" and "gender"

Everyone still calls me 'Miss! Miss!

Ma'am!'

Everyone wishes they could

Board a spaceship & feel the

Consolation

Of leaving this planet behind

Everyone loves being green

Everyone can blithely say

'I would wear a sexy dress if my boss

Wouldn't see a picture of it

On Facebook'

Everyone loves Halloween

But dreads Secretary's Day

Everyone's ear is tuned to a

Different frequency

But none are equipped with

Volume knobs

Everyone's eye sees what it

Wants to see & ignores

What it doesn't

Everyone's mouth is made

Of the same meat it eats

Everyone including me

4-12-15

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UNDER CONSTRUCTION

I planned to contribute to the million-line poem

But decided to write a poem of my own

I don't already have enough of them

Like children & courage, poems are scarce

Around here…

I need to make an effort

To put this line here & carefully

Place this one right below it

Focusing on what I want to say

Like cameras & corneas collaborating on

One point of view

My poem looks like

A rezoned neighborhood

And now my doorbell rings

Witnesses or joint casers

For I know it's not a friend 

Indeed

I can't make people stay

Yet I can't make them go away

I'm not pregnant

And never will be…I've had a vasectomy

My binder glows in the black light

This is all making sense now

The moon cries

Through every social media guru

Preaching 'Crying is for the infirm,

The ungrateful, the weak,

The unevolved!!'

I've seen the stars & your transformation

You are spellbinding

I am still under construction

It will take the rest of my life

Just to change my name

5-2-15

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There you are, Friends. If you are still reading, I hope you are having a good evolutionary time period. And I'll see you next time--it's been a while since I made a horrible music video for you. And I've written a few new songs, so…perhaps next time, something from the Garage!