This Fckin' Blog

Gym At the fucking gym (Yes, I fucking know. I don't seem like the type to go to fucking gym. I know I certainly don't fucking look like I go to the fucking gym), At the motherfucking climbing gym, (I know, I fucking know), The guy I was climbing with, Asked me about the fucking show At Shea Fucking Stadium, Which is a nightclub in fucking Bushwick. Where I'll be doing Some fucking poems With King Fucking Missile, On June 27th, And Schwervon is fucking playing too. So he says, "I've been climbing with a motherfucking rock star," And I say, "I prefer the term 'has-been.'" And then I said, "Better a has-been than a never was, I guess," In an effort to make myself feel a little fucking better. An effort which fucking failed, Because I don't even fucking know If I'm a fucking has-been Or a motherfucking never was. Oh, fuck me. I'm just in a motherfucking mood today. It will fucking pass, Jus

IRT On the IRT express going downtown this morning, A motherfucking Mariachi trio sang Besame Mucho And I noticed that I wasn't fucking pissed off at all. They were right fucking next to me And really fucking loud But they sounded great. Or maybe I was just in a good fucking mood. Anyway, I gave them a fucking dollar, because, Why the fuck not? Then, when I changed for the local at Chambers, There's this fucking clown, An actual clown, With a fucking red clown nose, and a big fucking bag full of clown shit. So, I was like, fuck me, I've got write this shit down right now. And I pulled out my motherfucking phone And wrote it down before we got to South Ferry. Fuck yes. 5/21/2015 NBC Then, on the way to the fucking office, I pass the fucking Walgreens, And there's a poster for "Red Nose Day," Some fucking thing that NBC is sponsoring, And I look at the date and it's fucking today. So I'm like, Maybe that fucking clown on the 1 train

Rude It's really fucking rude of me To be sitting here, watching Fin Divilly And writing this fucking poem Instead of giving him my undivided attention. I mean, I'm giving him some attention, But it's fucking divided: My time is divided between the lovely fucking performance Fin is giving right now, And this stupid fucking poem I'm writing. I mean, Fin came all the fuck from Ireland, And he's singing some really lovely motherfucking songs, And I'm writing this shit. And that's really motherfucking rude. But what's even fucking ruder Is that after Fin finishes his performance, I'm going to go on next, And read this poem, And maybe one more, And then I'm going to have to leave, And probably not watch any of the other performers. I mean, that's really fucking rude. I'm really fucking sorry. It's just I've got this class in less than an hour, And I've got to get over there. I'm really fucking sorry, I really shouldn't b

Back? It's been almost five fucking months, and a shitload of shit has happened, But I  haven't fucking felt like fucking writing. That's not exactly fucking true--now and then, I've fucking felt like it. But I fucking didn't. Like, when Winter went on and on and on and fucking on, I thought I'd write a poem about that, But then I fucking didn't. I just fucking didn't. And when Spring finally fucking came, I wanted to write some shit about that as well: I had a couple of fucking epiphanies While looking at some motherfucking trees, And I thought to myself, I'm a motherfucking nature poet, It would be the most natural fucking thing in the world For me to write about this shit. But I fucking didn't. I kept fucking telling myself, Maybe I will, But I fucking didn't. This morning, I was going to get on a motherfucking Citibike, And ride into work like I fucking used to do, But I saw some motherfucker Taking the las