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What figures do you want to see? *Official Thread*

Discussion in 'Collecting' started by ahawk12, May 16, 2002.

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Moderators: CrazyMike, LAJ_FETT
  1. E CHU TA! Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 8, 2000
    star 4
    Once again, I have to vote for:

    an Aiwha with the Kaminoan Rider

    My Second choice would be the "thong" lady from the Outlander Club. ;)
  2. Guy_DuBlanc Jedi Knight

    Member Since:
    May 27, 2002
    I really want Wat Tambor! He's the Techno-Union leader with those knobs on his chest. He would make a great figure!

    I'd like the rest of the Separatist leaders that sit at the table with Dooku. Those guys are cool.

    - Anakin in brown cloak with blue lightsaber

    - More Padme costumes

    - More Neimodians like the new guy with Nute Gunray
  3. weezer Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    May 16, 2001
    star 6
    There seems to be a big following for Wat. Pretty cool I think.
  4. JediCouncilBoy4 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Aug 20, 2001
    star 4
    That number on the old TPM series, can we call that to request figures? I mean if enough people call maybe they'll make them?
  5. weezer Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    May 16, 2001
    star 6
    I don't think Hasbro would appreciate that actually. They've got the Saga line planed out pretty well for the future. Thats why they have the fan choice polls, so that the fans can have a voice.

    Anyways all you would be talking to would be a customer care rep. They are probably just money hungry college students. It would be like when I worked for AOL tech support and some one would call and make a sugestion. I filed it under no one cares :p
  6. JediCouncilBoy4 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Aug 20, 2001
    star 4
  7. TK-508 Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Jun 9, 2002
    Vader strangling Antiles.....classic
  8. weezer Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    May 16, 2001
    star 6
    Rickshaw droid with cart and nuna ;)
  9. Commander Antilles Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Jul 21, 1999
    star 6
    "Cold day on Tatooine" Padme.

    Well, you can dream, can't you? ;)
  10. Padawan92 Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 22, 2001
    star 4
    More of Padme Outfits.
    Anakin with a arm that doesn't come off!
    A lot more different Jedi.
    A C-3PO with head that comes off.
    More EU figures like Jaina or Jacen.
  11. HRH-Dior-Daala Jedi Knight

    Member Since:
    Dec 29, 2001
    star 3

    i would like a 12' bail and 12' obi from "TPM" and "ATOC" with hair not the molded crap
    12' taun we

    they would look great with my portrait editions amidalas , leia and barbies

  12. Sean_Katarn Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Jun 14, 2002
    Come on, I am sick of seeing 5 diffrent Jango Fetts and Anakins! Lets see some EU figures from the New Jedi Order Series! The orginal EU figs and the SOTE figures where the smartest move Kenner/Hasbro ever had!

    Here are the figures I want to see : Republic/Jedi

    Luke Skywalker - Jedi Master
    Mara Jade Skywalker - Jedi Master
    Han Solo - with beard
    Leia Oragana Solo - SELCORE Outfit
    Jacen Solo - Jedi Knight
    Jaina Solo - Jedi Knight
    Anakin Solo - Jedi Knight
    Kyp Durron - Jedi Knight
    Corran Horn - Jedi Knight
    Borsk Fey'lya - Bothan Chief of State
    Ganner Rhysode - Jedi Knight
    Elegos A'Kla - Caamasi Senator
    Gavin Darklighter - X-Wing Pilot/Rogue Leader
    Droma - Ryn Male
    Talon Karrde - Smuggler/Liason
    Senator Viqi Shesh - Senator
    Kam Solusar - Jedi Knight

    Yuuzhan Vong :

    Nom Anor - Executor
    Tsavong Lah - Warmaster
    Shedao Shai - Commander
    Elan - Priestess
    Vergere - Fosh Female
    Yuuzhan Vong Warrior
    Vua Rapuung - Warrior/ Shamed One
    Uunu - Shamed one
    Mezhan Kwaad - Shaper
    Nen Yim - Shaper Adept

    All of the figures should be based on the pictures from the New Essential Guide to Characters.

  13. BucMan55 Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    Feb 15, 2002
    star 4
    The original EU figs came out after Hasbro had produced over 100 figures for the POTF2 line....

    I don't think we'll be seeing any EU until after E3....
  14. NiktosRule Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    May 8, 2001
    star 4
    I hope we never see anymore EU figures. It sucks that the damn Concept Stormtrooper won the last fans choice poll. I hope that figure warms the pegs son Hasbro never decides to make anymore EU figures or put them in polls.
  15. TheWampas1138 Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    Apr 2, 2002
    star 4
    I don't like the idea of the concept stormtrooper winning. I don't even consider that an EU figure since it doesn't appear in anything... I think one EU figure for every twenty movie figures would be fine. Maybe one per thirty, but there are EU figures some of us would like to see. Some people enjoy the books and comics, and consider them entertaining, and filled with some interesting characters.

  16. Darth_Stove Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    May 2, 2002
    star 3
    I for one would like to see a Padme (12 inch"????) with life like "physical attributes" if you know what I mean. lol
  17. BucMan55 Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    Feb 15, 2002
    star 4
    Stove...why not just try and go after Natalie....it'll be much better....And at least a lifesize Natalie does exist...
  18. ThePostman Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    May 19, 2002
    star 4
    Even Piell, Even Piell, Even Piell....

    I think you all know what I want.
  19. TheWampas1138 Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    Apr 2, 2002
    star 4
    Who is Even Piell? I keep seeing you requesting one, but I have no idea who that is.

  20. Yoda_Fett Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    May 30, 2002
    More PadmÃ© outfits for sure, can't think of anything else right now.
  21. BucMan55 Jedi Master

    Member Since:
    Feb 15, 2002
    star 4
    Let's get a comprehensive list of what you want to see...I'll also put the number of votes each figure gets...

    Nute Gunray: 8
    Wat Tambor: 14
    Poggle The Lesser: 19
    San Hill: 8
    Long neck: 7

    Aayla Secura: 14
    Coleman Trebor: 13
    Fancy Pants: 4
    Jocasta Nu: 6
    Barada/Weequay Jedi: 5
    Jedi Younglings: 13
    Generic Human Jedi: 7
    Barris Offee: 13
    Uncle Remus Jedi: 4
    Duck Jedi: 4
    Bultar Swan: 8
    Adi Gallia: 6
    Oppo Rancisis: 7
    Evan Piell: 6
    Eeth Koth: 6
    Depa Billaba: 6

    Flo Droid: 5
    Rickshaw Droid: 3
    Dooku's Pilot: 1
    Cafeteria Droid: 2
    Destroyer Droid: 3
    Spider Droid: 2

    Lama Su: 11
    Kid Clone: 3
    Jumpsuit Clone: 2
    Trooper Clone(white): 5
    Yellow Clone: 13
    Blue Clone: 3
    Green Clone: 3
    Jango (apartment): 2
    Clone with Armor and remo/helmet: 1

    Sly Moore: 6
    Corde: 1
    Death Stick Guy: 4
    Padme(any outfit): 18
    Bail Organa: 11
    Thong chick from club: 3
    Hermoine from Dex's diner: 3
    Mas Amedda: 2
    Anthony Daniels: 4
    Ahmed Best: 3
    GL Daughter: 1
    Darth Sidous: 1
    Rodian Senator: 2
    Gran Senator: 1

    Step Brother Owen: 8
    Beru: 9
    Cliegg Lars: 7
    Watto: 1
    Tusken with Jango FB feature: 3
    Shmi: 2
    Anakin w/Swoop: 3

    Improvement needed
    Better Anakin: 9
    Better Obi-Wan: 6
    Better Mace Windu: 3
    Better Dooku: 5
    Better Padme: 7
    Better Yoda: 3
    Ultimate Jango: 3

    Geonosian with Beast: 1
    3P0/Battle Droid set: 4
    Anakin riding Reek: 1
    Padme Riding Reek: 1
    R2 with Rockets: 1

    Anakin with new arm: 6
    Anakin on Shaak: 1
    Queen Jamilla: 3
    Handmaidens: 1

    As of the last posting to this thread, the winners are:

    Poggle The Lesser: 19
    Padme(any new outfit): 18
    Wat Tambor: 14
    Aayla Secura: 14
    Barris Offee: 13
    Coleman Trebor: 13
    Jedi Younglings: 13
    Yellow Clonetrooper: 13
    Lama Su: 11
    Bail Organa: 11

    Those are the only ones with 10 plus votes...

    If you voted for "other clones" your votes counted for all the different colors...

    If you voted for "the seperatists, your votes counted for all of them(unless you voted seperately for Poggle, then it was just the others)

    Same thing for Jedi: "other Jedi" gets you a vote for everyone on the list. Council requests however just votes for the council members(bottom 5 and Coleman Trebor). Also, a vote for "other Jedi" doesn't add to the Improvement Needed section....
  22. k_dog77803 Jedi Knight

    Member Since:
    Jun 22, 2002
    star 1
    12inch Tuan We and Lama Su!
    And I hope they make some more of those plush toys for attack of the clones!

    I just really want more Kaminioans and alien jedi's!
  23. kirby2112 Jedi Knight

    Member Since:
    Jun 4, 2002
    star 2
    One's I would like to see:

    Anakin with Robotic arm

    Padme with 'cold room' extras (if you catch me)

    Obi-wan with removable fake beard

    San Hill, The banker group head guy (no, really! Please tell me SOMEONE else liked him!)

    George Lucas, Republic Senator

    headless 3PO

    Set of 3 clonetroopers without uniform

    Palpatine with hidden laugh because he's not sidious

    just a couple ideas!
  24. plokoon270 Jedi Padawan

    Member Since:
    Jun 25, 2002
    hey Buc, choice #3 is coming your way in July/August. Heres A pic http://www.rebelscum.com/photo.asp?image=http://www.collectinghq.com/im/0001611.jpg
  25. Ky2-D2 Jedi Knight

    Member Since:
    May 6, 2002
    star 2
    After watching AOTC for the fifth time I figured out that I want some figures that aren't out (I know there's a thread but oh well)! Has anyone heard anything about Hasbro making the Separatists in 3 3/4" scale? I think that would be great. Who wouldn't want Poggle the Lesser or San Hill to add to their collection? Also, I heard rumors of a Jedi council room coming out...would it be so hard to make that meeting room (I don't know what to call it) that the Separatists umm meet in?
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We just heard The Back Room is closing but this time it's not going anywhere—owner John Yurt is retiring. Its last night is August 17 with Albert Castiglia; the last night for Junior Drinkwater is this Saturday, August 11.

I remember when the first Back Room opened in 1992 on West Atlantic Avenue as a key club in a dicey neighborhood—but that first one was my favorite location. Back then, there wasn't much in Delray—Boston's, The Sail Inn (Elwood’s wouldn’t open for another year), and not much else as I recall. The Back Room had great music, a low-key shabby kind of living room atmosphere, and there was this great mix of black and white people hanging out—which was rare even that recently. It felt like it could have been on Beale Street or in New Orleans but it was here, in Delray, and we had a place to go.

Over the years, the club has moved several times; most recently it was on West Atlantic and Congress Avenues. Before that, it was over on Old Dixie Highway. It's always had a loyal following, people who loved the blues, and it's also always had great local and touring acts—I saw Janeva Magness a few years ago and she was great. I also remember the party it had for Haiti's earthquake relief, when we all dropped off bags and bags of supplies in the back behind its Dixie Highway location.

We all know Delray is the Most Fun Small Town in America. I know we have great dining and star chefs and valet parking and new hotels. But I hope we aren't losing the kind of places with great live music that gave it its character—places like Elwood's and City Limits and Ernie's and now, The Back Room. I hope John Yurt does well and is happy—as happy as he has made all of us over the years.
I also hope this isn't another Day The Music Died kind of thing.

Because that's a trend Delray Beach should seriously think about reversing...

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Thursday, January 7, 2010

Yet another key Blazer injury

This time it's Andre Miller. He's suffered a broken ego, and his career in a Portland uniform has entered a terminal phase.

The Blazers' next couple of games, against quality opponents, are going to be something. Something wonderful, something terrible -- I don't know which, but definitely something.

Comments (15)

. . . sumpin' something.

Maybe the refs'll tip the games to the Blazers ... say, could Paul Allen buy his own refs? or let the fans wear belts dangling holsters and six-shooters, as a subtle little hint???

I like it when Nate said, "We talked as a group."
Sure, if you call Andre hurling f-bombs at the coach for a half hour, "talking as a group."
The only difference is that I don't think we should trade him. I think we should make him the captain...just to see what happens.
It reminds me of Nate's other gem, "It doesn't matter who starts."
Yeah, right.

Then what? Be back at square 1 like the end of last year where the choice at the starting point guard is a good team player who cannot put numbers and would be third string on any other team in Steve Blake; some unknown rookie in Jerryd Bayless who puts up numbers here and there, but is yet to prove that he can finish a season with assist and ppg comparable to Andre Miller.

The problem is what Jack pointed out at the beginning of the season. Nate McMillan is a great coach for a young team where he can dictate the locker room, practices and flow of the game. The Trailblazers are growing up, giving their own input, rebelling in how every move is made, and McMillan is not adjusting his coaching style.

Andre Miller as the savvy veteran who led the Denver Nuggets into the playoffs has put up with McMillan's nonsense for long enough, talked back in practice, and now bloggers are calling for Andre Miller to go?

Completely illogical.

If it were up to me, Dre would stay and some other folks would go. But that ain't gonna happen. Just sayin'.

Did you happen to see the trouble the 76ers gave Orlando in the playoffs last year? That was Andre. When he left, the 76ers went in the toilet.
I like him. He looks cool, just a little like Richard Pryor and he makes very quick decisions that lead to easy assists.

Hans Christian Andersen told a tale about the emperors new clothes. Sounds like Andre understood the moral in it.

"Completely illogical."

I didn't hear any mention of Brandon Roy, but this might be the genesis of a lot of issues.

Trade Blake, keep Miller. Let him play.

Trade Roy for a scoring center. Start Miller. Blake is great off the bench

I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks Miller looks like Richard Pryor. I keep waiting to hear him say, "DEAD honkey."

Bayless is the point guard of the future. With good coaching, he could be another Rajon Rondo. Blake is the guard of the past. He really isn't anywhere near as "steady" as he is described. In fact, he's about the most inconsistent player on the team. So we're going to have to stay with Miller now, but he won't be around next year.

Well, Paul Allen's money bought the win and referees tonight. Portland had 39 free throw attempts with 32 made against the Laker's 10 free throw attempts and 5 made.

The refs (Bill Spooner, James Capers, Mark Lindsay) are not known to me. I never see these names in the box scores of playoff games. Are any of them Pacific NW natives?

What, no mystery fouls on Kobe tonight? Maybe because he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. My heart bleeds for him and his fans.

I am sure it does Jack, just as my heart will bleed for Blazer believers when they get bounced out of the first round of the 2009-2010 NBA playoffs or do not even make it at all due to injuries.

For me, I see the regular season as a game of avoiding injuries or getting them early to avoid limping into the playoffs and developing some semblance of a half court game emphasizing defense and rebounds.

Teams such as Phoenix, Portland, and Golden State run and gun it to the delight of viewers, but get methodically shut down in the playoffs once they come up against a good, half court team such as the Lakers, Cleveland or Boston.

Orlando last year was a fluke.

The Blazers probably won't get far this year, but let me tell you, friend -- the Lakers blew tonight. And we all loved it.

Yeah, it is easy to do the whole game-by-game thing. We all get caught up in it.

As far as we know, the Trailblazers could have their team back from injury status and ready to push in the playoffs, while the Lakers lose Bryant and/or Bynum.

I just have to reiterate that the regular season is regarded too highly. Ask Dirk Nowitzki and the Dallas Mavericks how their 2006-2007 season league high wins prepared them for Golden State in the playoffs. Ask Lebron how the Cleveland Cavaliers league high wins prepared them for the 2008-2009 playoffs.

Regular season wins don't mean anything in the playoffs beyond home court advantage. Regular season is a game of gin rummy, while the playoffs are a game of chess.

So long as you make it to the playoffs with no key injuries late in the season and your team can play a halfcourt game, then you are prepared.

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Mount Eden Chardonnay, Santa Cruz Mountains 2009
Rombauer Chardonnay, Napa Valley 2011
Beringer, Chardonnay, Napa Reserve 2011
Kim Crawford, Sauvignon Blanc 2011
Schloss Vollrads, Spaetlese Rheingau 2010
Belle Glos, Pinot Noir, Clark & Telephone 2010
WillaKenzie, Pinot Noir, Estate Cuvee 2010
Blackbird Vineyards, Arise, Red 2010
Chauteau de Beaucastel, Chateauneuf-du-Pape 2005
Northstar, Merlot 2008
Feather, Cabernet 2007
Silver Oak, Cabernet, Alexander Valley 2002
Silver Oak, Cabernet, Napa Valley 2002
Trader Joe's, Chardonnay, Grower's Reserve 2012
Silver Palm, Cabernet, North Coast 2010
Shingleback, Cabernet, Davey Estate 2010
E. Guigal, Cotes du Rhone 2009
Santa Margherita, Pinot Grigio 2011

The Occasional Book

Cheryl Strayed - Torch
William Golding - Lord of the Flies
Saul Bellow - Mister Sammler's Planet
Phil Stanford - White House Call Girl
John Kaplan & Jon R. Waltz - The Trial of Jack Ruby
Kent Haruf - Eventide
David Halberstam - Summer of '49
Norman Mailer - The Naked and the Dead
Maria Dermoȗt - The Ten Thousand Things
William Faulkner - As I Lay Dying
Markus Zusak - The Book Thief
Christopher Buckley - Thank You for Smoking
William Shakespeare - Othello
Joseph Conrad - Heart of Darkness
Bill Bryson - A Short History of Nearly Everything
Cheryl Strayed - Tiny Beautiful Things
Sara Varon - Bake Sale
Stephen King - 11/22/63
Paul Goldstein - Errors and Omissions
Mark Twain - A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
Steve Martin - Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life
Beverly Cleary - A Girl from Yamhill, a Memoir
Kent Haruf - Plainsong
Hope Larson - A Wrinkle in Time, the Graphic Novel
Rudyard Kipling - Kim
Peter Ames Carlin - Bruce
Fran Cannon Slayton - When the Whistle Blows
Neil Young - Waging Heavy Peace
Mark Bego - Aretha Franklin, the Queen of Soul (2012 ed.)
Jenny Lawson - Let's Pretend This Never Happened
J.D. Salinger - Franny and Zooey
Charles Dickens - A Christmas Carol
Timothy Egan - The Big Burn
Deborah Eisenberg - Transactions in a Foreign Currency
Kurt Vonnegut Jr. - Slaughterhouse Five
Kathryn Lance - Pandora's Genes
Cheryl Strayed - Wild
Fyodor Dostoyevsky - The Brothers Karamazov
Jack London - The House of Pride, and Other Tales of Hawaii
Jack Walker - The Extraordinary Rendition of Vincent Dellamaria
Colum McCann - Let the Great World Spin
Niccolò Machiavelli - The Prince
Harper Lee - To Kill a Mockingbird
Emma McLaughlin & Nicola Kraus - The Nanny Diaries
Brian Selznick - The Invention of Hugo Cabret
Sharon Creech - Walk Two Moons
Keith Richards - Life
F. Sionil Jose - Dusk
Natalie Babbitt - Tuck Everlasting
Justin Halpern - S#*t My Dad Says
Mark Herrmann - The Curmudgeon's Guide to Practicing Law
Barry Glassner - The Gospel of Food
Phil Stanford - The Peyton-Allan Files
Jesse Katz - The Opposite Field
Evelyn Waugh - Brideshead Revisited
J.K. Rowling - Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
David Sedaris - Holidays on Ice
Donald Miller - A Million Miles in a Thousand Years
Mitch Albom - Have a Little Faith
C.S. Lewis - The Magician's Nephew
F. Scott Fitzgerald - The Great Gatsby
William Shakespeare - A Midsummer Night's Dream
Ivan Doig - Bucking the Sun
Penda Diakité - I Lost My Tooth in Africa
Grace Lin - The Year of the Rat
Oscar Hijuelos - Mr. Ives' Christmas
Madeline L'Engle - A Wrinkle in Time
Steven Hart - The Last Three Miles
David Sedaris - Me Talk Pretty One Day
Karen Armstrong - The Spiral Staircase
Charles Larson - The Portland Murders
Adrian Wojnarowski - The Miracle of St. Anthony
William H. Colby - Long Goodbye
Steven D. Stark - Meet the Beatles
Phil Stanford - Portland Confidential
Rick Moody - Garden State
Jonathan Schwartz - All in Good Time
David Sedaris - Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim
Anthony Holden - Big Deal
Robert J. Spitzer - The Spirit of Leadership
James McManus - Positively Fifth Street
Jeff Noon - Vurt

Road Work

Miles run year to date: 131
At this date last year: 195
Total run in 2014: 401
In 2013: 257
In 2012: 129
In 2011: 113
In 2010: 125
In 2009: 67
In 2008: 28
In 2007: 113
In 2006: 100
In 2005: 149
In 2004: 204
In 2003: 269

Clicky Web Analytics


text:
Priyanka Chopra – Taking it to another level

Priyanka Chopra is working hard to achieve a boxer’s body in her latest role as boxing champion Mary Kom. According to sources, Priyanka is working very hard to develop abdominal muscles to portray Mary to the hilt.

A source told NDTV, “She is taking her fitness to another level. Priyanka is charged up for her role. If she hasn’t found time in the day to work out, she hits the gym even in the middle of the night.”

Priyanka is known for picking unconventional films and it seems she is ready to take on the challenge of portraying Mary Kom. It has been said she will train alongside Mary Kom herself in order to prepare further for her role.

Speaking at a press conference, Priyanka said, “I do at least one film which is challenging for me every year. Mary Kom is that film for next year. If you meet her in person, you will see she is so sweet…can’t imagine her to be a boxer.”

She furthered added, “There is a lot of training going on for it. I hope I can pull it off.”

Before starting her training for this role, Priyanka took to twitter to tell us how hard she will be working for this role, “Now off to work big day today. Start my training for Mary Kom dreading going to the gym! Between the killer dance steps n gym im gonna die!”

Good Luck Priyanka! You can do it!

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text:
Empire of the Senseless

by Kathy Acker

Rape by The Father (Thavai speaks)

This is what Abhor, who’s my partner and part robot, told me was her childhood:

1. My Grandmother

She’s my father’s mother. He came out of her. And she came out of a German-Jewish family which was real wealthy.

But when she was still a kid, cause of all the pre-Nazi nationalistic shit murkiness in Germany, you know about that one, her family had to leave Germany. Not exactly political exile. Voluntary . . . political exile. In order to escape from those pre-Nazi ghettoes the family had to pay, with its wealth. Wealth was the price and cost of political escape. Wealth was the price and cost of capitalism. But now they’re multi-nationals. Nana (my grandmother) arrived in Paris with her mother and father, penniless.

Like a lot of poor people do, her parents put her out on the streets to pasture. To make them money. She was the right age, about ten. At that age my grandmother was beautiful. Almost as beautiful, even as a child, as she was stubborn and determined to make someone of herself and something of her life. She wasn’t going to prostitute her whole life. As my grandmother got older, she got more stubborn and determined.

I’m stubborn and determined too.

There was a young boy, a teenage worker. He looked like a shy fox; his eyes almost came together while a thin mouth stretched from huge ear to floppy ear. This boy, almost as beautiful as a strand of my grandmother’s cunt hair, from a distance and in fantasy loved my grandmother. He watched her go from John to John.

After some time, the time it takes for desire to overcome shyness and distance, as there is always time, the boy and Nana would walk down the streets, hands tightly clenched, so that in that heat sweat dripped on to the ragged street, in between her jobs of walking the streets, in between her bloody periods of hard labor. According to Karl Marx, this continent opened up a hundred years ago. What continent? The continent of the end of the capitalistic or teleological world. In the 19th century western world the people who ventured into this new continent were the militants of revolutionary class struggle. Knowing this the Vice-Squad Captain who patrolled these streets thought that both Nana and the boy, since he was her pimp, were terrorists.

Actually Alexander, the boy, was innocent. When he had been about six, he had naturally fantasized that his great-great-great-great grandfather had been Alexander the Great. He loved snakes. His mother, a real snake, had been a lousy mother. She had mistreated him by alternately screeching everywhere and as loudly as possible whatever she felt at the time, a thoroughly narcissistic bitch, and by smothering Alexander as if he had just died with all the weepy affection which he didn’t want. Just as two warriors fight to death, he had to adore her to death. He grew up in this war. He grew up in war. He grew up or, rather, refused to grow up both totally suspicious and as unformed, as open as a wild animal. This is why Alexander resembled a young fox whose eyes (I’s) are permanently crossed.

Being simultaneously unable to perceive anyone other than himself and overly romantic, Alexander loved my grandmother by hating her. He loved her by wanting to kill her: to carry her out of the slum which is prostitution. Alexander wasn’t a pimp. But he was broke and the penniless, historically, are helpless.

Nana and this kid walked through the sun-burnt brain-burnt streets, holding hands tightly. If they could have, they would have killed each other.

The Vice-Squad cop did it first. One night, since he needed that day to fill his arrest quota in order to keep his creepy job, he busted my grandmother. And busted what, not whom, he thought was her pimp. Bust the whole lot. Scum. Get poverty off the streets and back where it belongs. Dead.

Now Nana was in business: her real pimp got her out of jail. After 24 hours, just so that she remembered her place in the scheme of things. If there is a scheme of things. My grandmother never forgot anything. Since Alexander was innocent, or, not a businessman, there was no one or pimp to buy him out of jail.

Alexander was innocent beyond the point of real innocence to that of stupidity. For he believed that he was innocent. Perhaps he was, but he had this world wrong. He believed that since he was innocent of pimping and the courts were just, he didn’t need to give a lawyer money. He believed that lawyers earn money only off of guilt. But the court forced a Legal Aid lawyer on the boy. But since the Legal Aid never showed up in Court, or for that matter never anywhere else, Alexander was able to plead his own innocence. Then the Vice-Squad swore whatever the Vice-Squad swears in order to maintain the scheme of things. Which might or might not exist.

The whole thing, case, took exactly five minutes: the judge said numbers to the prosecution; the prosecution said numbers to the judge; back and forth for five minutes. Finally the judge said some numbers. A man who should have been more than an extra in a monster movie ushered, to put it politely, Alexander through several doors and into an empty prison cell.

After several weeks he was ushered out of the prison cell and on to the street. On another street he bought a sawed-off shotgun off a pawn, then stuck some sharpened kitchen knives in his belt, and walked back on the street. He went for the whole Vice-Squad. He tried to kill every Vice-Squad cop. He was 19 years old. A romantic. He managed to kill four of them. Literally the cops had to nail him to a wall in order to keep him: madness had made his strength so great.

They (the courts) condemned the boy to death.

It was one of the final revolts of the non-existent against their economic controllers. In a sense, Nana when she was a whore had been one of the final causes.

Parts of the police’s duty has always been to combine against all who aren’t them and their own. For a copy, duty’s nature. The flics made sure that the judge, who was one of their own, condemned the boy to as an immediate death as possible.

The light on the night of the boy’s execution, the only light, was pink chair light green violet violent flesh. All the people haunted by crime and misery, living in the Section of Desolation, converged upon that spot: the jail in which they made their electrocutions. On two sides of the jail, bourgeois houses, unable to see with their eyes anything which wasn’t on television, were holding their eyes tightly shut. They said: “What you don’t see, you don’t know.” Beyond the prison’s other two sides, walls so thick and tall reached up into the centers of the gods’ eyes. If there are gods when there are poor people. Beneath the walls, the cripples and the mentally crippled, the lonely, shuffled their huge feet.

Cops sitting on monstrous black horses forced the desolate back against the walls. But the mass was too pissed-on and pissed to be controllable. Neither black beast nor human beast could break through the throng of human filth.

When the light was the water, at dawn, there there was no water, when instant electrical waves cursed and coursed like water through the boy’s body: the mass like a tidal wave roared. “Murder. We are murdered.”

The cops moved in on them like a wall which moves. Everything becomes something else. In blood and change, my childhood began.

Being poor Nana had learned that society is only a filthy trick. Being totally stubborn and determined not to become a filthy trick of the rich, dead, for that is not a human life, according to her own lights Nana succeeded. She married a rich man who owned part of the garment district. The poor can reply to the crime of society, to their economic deprivation retardation primitivism lunacy boredom hopelessness, only by collective crime or war. One form collective crime takes is marriage.

I think that because I perceived what marriage was for my grandmother and because I loved her, I am not able to sexually love another human being or accept another human being’s love. If I have to love, out of desperation or desperately, I know love only when it’s allied with hate.

Robin Winters, Life Full of Holes, acrylic on canvas, 72 x 60". Courtesy of Michael Klein.

2. Daddy

Thivai. The beginning of any person must be the beginning of the world. To that person. That’s how it is for me.

First, Thivai, there were no animals. That is, no wild animals. Oh there were cats and dogs who are somewhere between humans and real animals. The cats were so thin they looked like knives. Predatory knives ran down the streets. Just like in Detroit. No human could walk on the streets without blood covering her limbs.

The streets were really one street, a bit of pavement running parallel to the coast almost all the way down its bay.

Behind broken bits of pavement, shrubbery dense from being all different shapes without any possible passageways for humans, twisted out of the rock which was the only earth and harder than anything: this rock-earth occasionally rose right up into mountains, and then to and into air.

Rock became sky.

The first light which was air sat on the sea. It appeared to be weird. Or a haze which resembled human nausea. Then the tops of the water, as if they were and there were waves but there weren’t, were light. These tops were dapples of changing color; there was no other light.

Not in the way rock had become sky, the light moved into water. The tops of the water were valueless jewels. In the distance the risen rock was haze. All was hazy and resembled human nausea.

The day after the beginning of this disgusting world, the rock formed a cave. The cave was big enough for lots of people. There were several large black worms and their feet were white. They crawled into the holes at the ocean floor’s bottom. In the full late sun, a burro had fallen asleep. His large head lay next to a sleeping dog’s larger head. The bees were bigger than horses.

Daddy was Nana’s only kid. She adored him. She gave him everything she could. He, in turn, turned to her as a mother turns to her child. They formed a closed world.

By the time daddy was born, Nana was very wealthy. He was a beautiful boy: his hair was thick black and his eyes were big black. Since he had turned to grandma rather than outward to the world, he had no morals, for any morality presumes a society. Since my grandmother loved him, she saw no reason to teach him anything or that he should learn anything.

This substitution of primitivism which must be anarchic (in its non-political sense) for morality gave my father his charm. His charm blinded not only his parents but even every old farty schoolteacher to both his complete lack of social awareness and of education. Politics, for my father, was, always, a hole. Parents and teachers scolded him only in the way a child reprimands a favorite fat cat; when my father was being punished, he knew he was really being praised for being unlike other humans. When he was ten years old and unlearned, my grandfather, whom everyone considered a saint, and Nana together killed themselves: they couldn’t live without each other.

Daddy was coming into puberty. He inherited six million dollars. These two—money and sex—must have had something to do with each other, cause from the night he lost his virginity, daddy never had trouble finding lovers. Lovers were men and women to whom he gave gifts, not love or need. Daddy, being daddy, needed no one. He wouldn’t consider, just cause of sex, being tied to any other human being.

As he got older, he got even better looking. When he was 40, he got married because he wanted to propagate himself once. Sex was joined to money. She married him because her mother desired this marriage because his family was wealthier than theirs. She was 15. Like my father, she worshipped her mother.

The only man she ever worshipped was my father. He didn’t care about her. He married her to have me. He cared about me. By him. His. He educated me. I was educated the way he had been educated.

I looked like him. I smelled like him. I learned like him. My father had propagated.

As a result of this education I don’t know anything about politics and I never read newspapers. As a result of this education I just like trouble. As a result of this education I don’t know anything about the world. As a result of this education I’m dumb.

My mother hated the way I was. I felt she hated me. I felt she wanted to kill me and I felt since she was my mother she must love me.

Out of confusion which resembled nausea, I complained to daddy that my mother didn’t love me and was cold. He informed me coldly, in front of her, that she loved me of course because she was my mother. Since he was glaring at her, she had enough intelligence to know that she should never open her dumb mouth again.

Daddy played all sorts of games with me. He taught me how to throw a real football. He taught me gymnastics. He trained me into total physical perfection.

Then he taught me a final trick. He showed me how to insert a razor blade into my wrist just for fun. Not for any other reason. Thus, I learned how to approach and understand nature, how to make gargantuan red flowers, like roses, blooming, drops of blood, so full and dripping the earth under them, my body, shook for hours afterwards. During those after hours, I fantasized my blood pouring outwards. This was relief that there were no decisions left.

Daddy left me no possibility of easiness. He forced me to live among nerves sharper than razor blades, to have no certainties. There was only roaming. My nerves hurt more and more. I despised those people, like my mother, who accepted easiness—morality, social rules. Daddy taught me to live in pain, to know there’s nothing else. I trusted him for this complexity.

Otherwise I was innocent. I actually thought a man and woman got a baby by rubbing their asses together. What this looked like I didn’t actually know. The woman would do something like shitting. Doing this or having a child was something I certainly didn’t want to do. Ever. The only person I wanted was my father.

One day daddy said he had something to tell me.

“What do you have to tell me?” I was so quiet, I was dead. My nerves were as sharp as razors.

“You know your mother?”

I didn’t want to know my mother.

“Your mother isn’t your real mother.”

I didn’t care. “Who’s my mother?” I asked without caring.

“You don’t remember her. As soon as you dropped out of her cunt, she gave you to the hospital. Nana and I took you. She never tried to see you. Ever again.”

“We don’t talk about her,” said my mother who was now fake.

“We don’t talk about her because she was mad, Abhor. She was the only woman I’ve ever loved. You look exactly like her. You remind me of the woman I loved, Abhorra.”

This mother who was fake no longer existed. I existed.

I realized that my father hated and loved me because he had to. This mixture of total attraction and disgust calmed my natural fears and drew me more and more toward him. I was his mirror. I was his knight. I was strong daring loyal questioning. I would do anything to be loved as long as love or adoration didn’t involve closeness. The fake mother had long been banished to her bourgeois summer house.

When did I start to fuck? Oh, I started to fuck, Thivai, when I was 14. At that age I didn’t give a damn who I fucked cause any boy who fucked me loved me. Fucking was love. Since I don’t think it is anymore, I don’t fuck around anymore. Now I know that we, all of us, know more than we know we know, this is human knowledge, cause I still didn’t exactly know what fucking was and I didn’t know how my parents felt about my fucking and yet I knew I was evil cause I was fucking. So I knew daddy would kill me if he caught me fucking. I don’t know how I knew this. I was in the bathroom, fucking some boy. Daddy came home. I heard the front door close. I threw on my clothes and ran up to daddy. “Hi! Hi!” I kissed him. There’s only one picture I have left of me as a kid. I’m three years old. My arms close around my father’s thighs. “Shall I get you some Jack Daniels?”

Daddy wasn’t an alcoholic. He drank the usual six martinis at night and mommy, she was a moralist, kept telling him he was an alky.

I knew he’d say ‘Yes’. Daddy could never reject Jacky Daniels. They were a bunch of homosexuals. When daddy went off to his bedroom, I opened the front door and snuck the boy I’d been fucking out.

I returned to their Parisian apartment with the JD. I handed it to daddy.

He was holding up a boy’s tie which he’d found in the bathtub. He didn’t believe my lies. He sat down on his bed where he always sat. My daddy was almost crying.

My limbs were frozen with tension.

“Abhor, I know what you’ve been doing.” Lies never work except as lies. Like language and love. My mother taught me this. Like love. “These men don’t respect you, Abhor.”

How could I explain that I cared neither if they respected me nor who they were.

“Abhor,” daddy explained. “I’m the only man who’ll ever take care of you properly.” His hands were reaching for my breasts while tears were coming out of his eyes.

“Why don’t you do it with mommy, daddy?”

“We’re too old. We don’t do it anymore.” His right hand was rubbing my breast.

“I’m going to phone mommy.” Over the phone, I told her that her husband was trying to do something to me. I didn’t use the word ‘fuck’.

She said, “Let me speak to him.”

“Daddy, mommy wants to speak to you.”

I don’t remember if his hand left my nipple. I don’t know what they said to each other.

After he put the phone receiver down on the table, he put his cock up me. There was no more blood than a period.

Part of me wanted him and part of me wanted to kill him.

So I stayed in their apartment and that night I dreamed that the blood lying over the ocean in front of my eyes was light. The light by which I could see. The fishing boats sink or stink.

The German Romantics had to destroy the same bastions as we do.

Logocentricism and idealism, theology, all supports of the repressive society. Property’s pillars. Reason which always homogenizes and reduces, represses and unifies phenomena or actuality into what can be perceived and so controlled. The subjects, us, are now stable and socializable. Reason is always in the service of the political and economic masters. It is here that literature strikes, at this base, where the concepts and actings of order impose themselves. Literature is that which denounces and slashes apart the repressing machine at the level of the signified. Well before Bataille, Kleist, Hoffman etc., made a trail of Hegelian idealism, of the cloturing dialectic of recognition: the German Romantics sung brazenly brassily in brass of spending and waste. They cut through conservative narcissism with bloody razor blades. They tore the subject away from her subjugation to her self, the proper; dislocated you the puppet; cut the threads of meaning; spit at all mirrors which control.

I knew that pleasure gathers only in freedom. For I was soaring through the sky, my huge white and gray wings stretched out to the horizontal limits of my vision. I was alone. In the sky. I was almost white.

I flew downwards, hollering with pleasure, swooping as if into the slate of water. But I didn’t. Then swooped directly into the cold of that ocean, it was the light of morning, as directly as if I was going for food. Out of the tunnel my body had carved in the water, a fountain of light burst upward.

The city awoke. Bursting. Angels sat on its head. Everything burst. Carolled. There is only glory. Because I know there are angels and visions, there is freedom. Only in real living human life. After years of regular torture, boredom replacing all other mental activity, continuous fear, forgetfulness of all dreams to the point of inability to dream, to have visions, after years of being driven into the corners of rats, of garbage cans filled with plague, of cut-off limbs, driven into every form of living which is death: suddenly the people in this city were free. They were free to experiment.

This is what the people said to the sky. “Now the mad bird has won. Now even criminals can fly.”

But (in my dream) thousands of tiny fish were translucent and looked like worms. They leapt, with their tiny sharp teeth, out of the water at me. The teeth bit through the thin feathers into my flesh. From me the little teeth were red. One baby fish leaped so high, he bit through my rotting teeth with his teeth. Then through my tongue tip. Many fish tore my wings off me out of hunger. Me actually courageous I tried to keep my life by screaming swooping dodging. Nobody and nothing came to my rescue. There was no such thing as rescue. There could have been no reality. I had only myself to save myself. I couldn’t save myself. My wings were more torn than dishrags, they were sick, and the tongue was so torn it couldn’t speak. I could neither fly nor cry. Nor could I stay alive.

Inside my mind I scream aloud; inside my mind, the world, I scream aloud. Somewhere I am a female and I have long hair and that hair is floating over the soil so dry, for centuries, that nothing ever grows in it. Here there is only emotion. I scream when I die. Then I sink into black. The rest of any living is nights. The cities have died. The cities are full of rats; the rats are bored; people seem as lonely as they are bored.

After that night I was so unsure of myself, I desperately made love with anyone. Since lots of boys fell wildly in love with this double material sex and mental lack of me, daddy was jealous. “If I was a young boy, I’d knife a boy who fucked you.”

“I don’t like knives.”

“We’ve hit bottom.” Daddy knew how low love had brought us. “We’re downwind from even from where the rich spit. Any man would do anything to prevent our joy. But they’ll all be sorry for their rules which are crimes. If by any chance, there isn’t any real justice, if we have no rescue: I hereby invoke all the gods or Energies who sanctify our love or so-called crime to make these men suffer the horrors of hell. May their suffering equal God’s.”

“I didn’t know God existed.”

Not only did this monster to whose force I had, by force, yielded hate even the notion of my fucking a boy. He also, was even more, frightened that other people, society, would notice his ridiculous restrictions of me and question why. He realized he had to give them, society, a reason why he was shutting me up.

All daddy cared about was what society thought about him. He didn’t care if he was really evil because he didn’t have any morals. He was free to do whatever he wanted as long as he was secret. He was a moralist. He just didn’t want society to think him evil.

So he gradually let it be known I was a cripple. For this reason, he was shutting me up for the rest of my life. I was a genetic cripple: I was weird. Also I was dyslexic and autistic. I was too crippled for anyone to love me.

My mother knew I wasn’t a cripple. She was real dumb. So daddy gave her the one reason for my life imprisonment which could penetrate her thick skull. He, he explained, was saving me from marriage; marriage is the worst life any woman can have.

My mother agreed.

“Marriage,” my father said, “turns woman into whining passive-aggressive liars while the men become narcissists. Whatever good is possible between any man and woman marriage destroys. For the woman becomes lobotomized and the man acts like a bad actor acting the part of President Reagan. My one goal in life, darling, is to allow your daughter to be as intelligent and fully realized a human being as possible.”

“Yes,” my mother dared to open her mouth, “males are creeps.” But as soon as her husband walked away from her, my mother, I hated those words, reverted to her usual inability to accept the truth. The truth, being complex, always hurts. She whined to her mother, because she always turned to her mother, what her husband had said.

At the moment my mother was whining, daddy was smelling my cunt. “I’ve reached the best moment now!” he explained. Now I was sure what he was referring to. “This is the moment of truth! ! ! . . . I’m going off off off jacking it off!!! . . . my hands’re gonna be broken from this one!!! . . . I don’t even recognize my own body!!! . . . and it doesn’t matter!!! . . . I know you’re mine!!! . . . I made you!!! . . . I’m making you!!! . . . I swore I’d live for pleasure!!! . . . My tongue is fucking enormous!!! . . . feel it!!! . . . it’s reaching down to my waist!!! . . . you’re seeing your actual father in his moment of truth!!! . . . God almighty!!! . . . nothing matters!!! . . . you’re my God!!! . . . my daughter: I worship you!!! . . . I beg you to do it, show I can please you!!! Now look at it, it’s big in my corkscrewing hand!!! . . . kiss it!!!”

My father explained again, "I am fucking God and I made God!!! . . .

Holy Shit!!! . . . all I have to do is look at God and God is happy cause I’ve made God come!!!

“God is in heaven I’m in heaven I’ve died the whole world in heaven!!! . . .

I’m coming all over your face!!!"

I licked up his sperm.

My grandmother, unlike my mother, wasn’t a dope. She didn’t do dope. When mommy wimpered to her that her husband (whom she loved more than anything on earth), that this husband was keeping me in a private prison and privately whipping me, grandma replied that this couldn’t be good for my welfare. This couldn’t be for the sake of my welfare. My father couldn’t be whipping me for my good. So he must be acting for his own good, because there is always Good. No one was sure what that might be.

My mother’s mother was a dominating old bitch. With her shaking flesh she wobbled via taxi over to my father. “Bud,” she asked him. “What’s this shit about you not letting my granddaughter fuck for money? I mean, get married?” Grandma always got her terms mixed up. “Do you want your daughter to be a freak? After all, she carries our name.”

“I don’t have enough money to let her marry, Florrie. Marriage’s too expensive a business.”

“I’ll finance it,” grandma replied.

“If you finance her fucking for money,” said my father whose IQ was 166, “I’ll let her do it.” My father knew his mother-in-law was the cheapest thing on earth, even cheaper than himself.

“I’ll finance it.” Then grandmama huffed and huffed on to the uppitty hotel she called her home, but by the time she had walked into her gray red and black clown study, she had forgotten everything because she didn’t have any middle-term memory.

For the moment my father and I were free to fuck each other everywhere, in every bathroom in town.

Robin Winters, Block Party, 1986, mixed media on paper, 72 x 72" square. Courtesy of Michael Klein.

When daddy wasn’t with me, he lived in a brothel. A sex-show was the brothel’s front. Since the sex show actors had only fake sex, this sex show’s legality acted a cover for the rest of the filth which went on.

The desperate voyeurs who sought their sexual gratification in the masturbatory contemplation of a remote object of fantastic desire and an array of attendant secret fetishisms; the exploitation of sex for commercial and assorted equally venial reasons; the way in which patrons of this seedy burlesque house fell prey to its psychotically disturbed perverts; the degradation of the performers who not only put their flesh and minds on parade in the tradition of the Miss America beauty pageant but also were forced to watch this deterioration, this deterioration of themselves, so that they, like the other objects, were simply objects of scorn to the ‘fans’ . . . Their buyers . . . This sex show had nothing to do with pornographic voyeurism. None but the most callous of males was unconcerned enough to be voyeuristic. Most humans felt totally disgusted by and repudiated both what they saw, what they felt, and the whole system of values behind the sex show and the pornographic magazines and especially novels sold outside the ‘theatre’. In other words, the primal urge of sex had become a revolting phenomenon.

Here language was degraded. As daddy plumbed and plummetted away from the institute of marriage more and more downward deeply into the demimonde of public fake sex, his speech turned from the usual neutral and acceptable journalese most normal humans use as a stylus mediocris into . . . His language went through an indoctrination of nothingness, for sexuality had no more value in his world, until his language no longer had sense. Lack of meaning appeared as linguistic degradation.

This is what daddy said to me while he was fucking me: “Tradicional estilo de p . . . argentino. Q . . . es e. mas j . . . de t . . . los e . . . dentro d. la c . . . es m . . . indicado p . . . entablar g . . . amistades o t . . . tertulias a . . . es m . . . similar a. estilo t . . . sec . . . la c . . . con l. palma de la m . . . y s. apoyan l . . . cinco d . . . se s . . . y s. baja l mano, l . . . de e . . . manera y. el c . . . se h . . . hombre. origen e . . . profundamente r . . . y s. han h . . . interesantes t . . . en l . . . jeroglifios e . . . y m . . . Es e. mas r . . . para d . . . de l . . . comidas p . . . no c . . . la de . . .” He had become a Puerto Rican.

One night I dreamed my mother had a lover. She realized how powerful and addictive fucking is. Then I was free to be.

I told my father my dream. Even though he despised her, he cared so much for me, he determined to find her a lover.

He picked up a young anarchist. Since this slut had problems with vermin, fleas, and crabs, the slut needed money to delouse himself so he could be a successful slut. He was too poor to buy any medicine. The parasites were so numerous at night he often dreamed that he was attacking a young girl. His right hand became a claw and tore at her face. Worms reared out of the skinned female visage. The anarchist, waking, wanted only to stick razors into himself. My father explained to the boy that it’ll give his wife only pleasure to take a lover.

The anarchist agreed to fuck my mother. My mother, being weak, was so desperate to talk to anyone she let the anarchist fuck her. Then she became a nymphomaniac. My mother took one drink and fucked everyone in sight.

On account of the degeneration of language. Slut.

My father went to Greece. One night he was sitting on his yacht off the coast of the island of Ithaca, from where Ulysses had set off on his own to find out the truth. At night the water the sky and the few buildings of the nearest town were many different colors of black. There was only black. My father saw a shadow on the other side of his yacht, took out his pistol, and shot. The shadow fell, dead, down to the deck. In the law court, my father declared that he hadn’t recognized the young man whom he had killed.

The blood lying over the waters was light. The fishing boats sank. Pleasure gathered only in freedom. According to the law court, my father had murdered. My mother and I were unable to do anything. We wrote letters, pleading daddy was insane. Mommy thought he was insane. I was so scared I came from an insane family, I stopped writing. I had to. Insanity, in my blood, was poisoning me. I was going to spend my adult life screaming to the moon.

The family wealth succeeded in getting daddy six months in the looney bin on a lunacy charge. Then daddy, desperate to find out what had happened to me, escaped from the madhouse.

He wandered through the streets he didn’t know, looking for a cab. Six youths who were armed stopped him and looked through his body for money. Daddy grabbed one of their knives and got three of them before the others stuck it into him. They left him without money and bleeding all over the sidewalk.

Desperate, daddy began to pray. But he had no one to whom to pray. Meanwhile my mother had killed herself cause, though she hated daddy, she was unable to live without him. Once his restraining hand had been gone, she had blown all her money. She faced poverty and took sleeping pills instead.

I saw my mother’s dead body in the morgue on Christmas Day. It was the first dead body I had ever seen. The two cops there were anxious to return home to their warm Christmas meals. They told me to identify her.

I wanted to kill myself just as my mother had killed herself. This is my madness.

Meanwhile daddy realized all he had done, all he had destroyed through lust. He began to cry. Two tears ran down his cheeks. He raced to his only possession, his yacht, which moved, and moved off. Into the bloody sea. No one’s ever seen him again. I don’t know what happened to daddy. I decided to keep on living rather than kill myself.

—Kathy Acker is the author of Blood and Guts in Highschool, Great Expectations, and Don Quixote. Her collected works will be published by Grove Press, the first volume of which will appear in the Fall of 1987.

Spring 1987
The cover of BOMB 19


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Flaherty To Seek Boston City Councilor At Large Post

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(credit: Michael F. Flaherty on Facebook)

(credit: Michael F. Flaherty on Facebook)

For The Family

BOSTON (AP) – Former City Councilor Michael F. Flaherty, who unsuccessful ran for Boston mayor in 2009, says he will run for Boston City Council at Large.

In a statement Sunday he said he loves the city and misses serving it and its residents.

Instead of seeking reelection in 2009, Flaherty challenged Mayor Thomas M. Menino. He was an at-large councilor from 2000 to 2010.

Flaherty said his priorities will be to fight violence and substance abuse and try to improve Boston’s schools.

He says he will apply for nomination papers Monday morning.

(Copyright 2011 by The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved.)

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State Program Helps Communities Fix Infrastructure Problems

By Joe Shortsleeve, WBZ-TV Chief Correspondent
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(Photo by Kevork Djansezian/Getty Images)

(Photo by Kevork Djansezian/Getty Images)

Featured Content

BOSTON (CBS) – When cities and towns strapped for cash, it is often hard to find the funds to improve safety on local roadways.

The state has started a new program called “Small Bottlenecks” to help communities fix smaller problems before they become big ones.

This program sets aside construction money for smaller yet critically important infrastructure improvements.

For example, Quaker Meeting House Road in Sandwich is a major road with lots of kids, bikers and schools, but no sidewalks and no money to build them.

The Town of Sandwich actually began the sidewalk project three years ago but only completed less than one mile of the four mile project before the money ran out.

Now, Paul Tilton, Sandwich’s Public Works Commissioner says the town is going to be one of the first towns to benefit from the new state program.

As part of the program, the state will now pick up the tab of one million dollars to build more than three miles of sidewalk.

“So this isn’t about just giving a town one million dollars, and sprucing up the sidewalk but actually making a difference for pedestrians and for motorists,” said Richard Davey, Secretary of Transportation for Massachusetts.

Secretary Davey announced the program in June and says the state will now pay for five to ten projects like the one in Sandwich each year.

Secretary Davey says everything does not have to be the Big Dig.

“While it has been the transformative project for Boston, I think in government the small stuff matters,” said Davey.

And now Sandwich knows it.

“I was elated. I really didn’t think it was going to happen,” said Commissioner Tilton.

Tilton says they hope to begin the work in the fall.

The state says the new sidewalks will be completed by next summer.

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Smart Lunches Grows In Boston

By Anthony Silva, WBZ NewsRadio 1030 New England Business Editor
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420x316-grad-silva Anthony Silva
Anthony Silva is co-host of the WBZ Afternoon News heard each wee...
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BOSTON (CBS) – Dozens of Boston schools and after school programs have signed up with Smart Lunches, a Boston company that delivers balanced meals to students that have been ordered online by parents.

Smart Lunches has just raised a million dollars in private funding.

WBZ NewsRadio 1030’s Anthony Silva reports

CEO Emily Green tells me her company is focused on about 360 schools, daycare centers and day-camps in the Boston area that can’t offer an on-site lunch service. She says Smart Lunches provides thousands of lunches each month.

Green says Smart Lunches provides nutritious lunches that parents would want to pack themselves for their children, if they had time. She says fresh fruits, vegetables and whole grains are part of the meals they provide.

Green says her company recently purchased Smart Snacks, a company that fills school vending machines with better quality products.

Green says, “vending machines can carry good stuff to eat, too.” She says her company can now provide children with healthy food options all day long.

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Latest Videos

Musicians Prepare For 4th Of July Performances
No Specific Threats, But Security Tight For Boston's 4th Of July
WBZ AccuWeather Midday Forecast For July 3
Dan Roche's 1-on-1 With Bruins General Manager Don Sweeney
WBZ AccuWeather Morning Forecast For July 3
Boston Pops 4th Of July Performance Is 'Tradition, It's Boston'
Security Measures In Place For Boston's 4th Of July Celebration
Car Smashes Into Halifax Home
WBZ AccuWeather Forecast
I-Team: Snow Plow Damage Claims Skyrocket, But Boston Residents Get Cold Shoulder
Mass. Man Recovering After 'Frightening' Shark Attack Off N.C. Coast
Good Samaritan Shot While Helping Assault Victim In Lynn
Woman Found Dead After Burlington Hotel Guests Report Screams, Gunshots
Investigators Release Image Of Girl Found Dead At Deer Island


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Box of Birds is a Boston-based indie/folk/rock band lead by Steph Durwin and Charlie Gargano.

Steph and Charlie met while studying audio engineering at The New England Institute of Art in Brookline, MA. It was not long before they began writing songs and experimenting in the studio. Benny Grotto (Motherboar/Slapshot), and Erik Caldarone (ECG/Boompa) joined the band in 2013 to bring the songs to life with driving drums and groovy bass. Lyrical content ranges from political and social commentary (reminiscent of Conor Oberst and Kevin Devine), to hope.

  The debut EP "A Place On The Wall Where A Picture Used To Hang" is now here!

It can be streamed and downloaded on our Bandcamp.

"For Box of Birds, things are fine, things are swell. The group is starting to find their wings.

Just don’t ask them how many official state birds they can name without Googling."

Sound Of Boston

" 'It's Fine, It's Swell' tells the tales of being home and rediscovering what home really means, but does it with a fairly fitting country-western twang. The song builds to an Opry-esque climax, with a really classy taste of organ (care of Chris “Gooch” Bloniarz from local folk powerhouses Grey Season and Honeysuckle) and harmonies mixed into the swelling sounds. Singer Steph Durwin’s voice is honest and raw, making the tune an instant classic, something that fits in around a campfire and in a packed concert hall with the crowd singing along."

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Sunday, October 14, 2012

Ciabatta - An Old Slipper for Steak Sandwiches

I don't know about you, but when I make a steak sandwich, I need the bread to be chewy and just slightly sour. I have tried all different kinds of bread, everything from white sandwich bread ( a mistake!!) to baguette (better but not there yet) to ciabatta. Hands down the best bread for a steak sandwich (or for that matter any grilled meat) is the Italian 'peasant' bread, which has become extremely popular in the last few years. The word means 'old slipper', the kind of old familiar, comfortable friend you have worn for years, that has lost it's shape a little but cannot be replaced. These breads, are really without a defined shape, and must be treated very delicately up until they are baked. Then, after they have cooled, they are soooo chewy, and filled with holes (for mustard, olive oil etc.) they are truly second to none. This recipe is adapted from the wonderful cookbook by Ciril Hitz, Baking Artisan Breads, 10 Expert Formulas for Baking Better Bread at Home. It is a cookbook intended for those who want to bake incredible bread at home, using regular ingredients, and without the intent of turning you into a professional baker. Just someone who appreciates good, but really good, bread.

When you mix this dough, it is so wet, you might think you have made a mistake. You have not!!! After mixing you literally pour the dough into a greased bowl to rise and ferment. Be gentle, adding only as much flour as necessary to fold or manipulate the dough. Finally, bake in a hot oven, on a stone if you have one, and you won't be sorry. BTW, Jamie Oliver, in one of his early episodes , makes a steak sandwich that is to die for. No doubt, he used these ciabattas!

Here's what you'll need:
for the poolish (starter);
330g (11 oz) bread flour
330 ml (11 oz) water at room temperature
a pinch of instant yeast

Mix these ingredients together until it is all incorporated. At 100% hydration it will be VERY wet. Not to worry. Pour it into a bowl, cover, and leave it to ferment at room temperature for 16 hours (or overnight).

the next day...

Add these ingredients: (to the starter)
613g (21.5 oz) bread flour
405 ml (14 oz) water at room temperature
1/2 tsp. instant yeast
18g (1Tbs) salt

Mix it all together, until completely incorporated then mix (beat!) vigorously for about 10 minutes. The dough will be very soft. Place it in an oiled bowl and cover to rise, about 2 hours. At 45 minute intervals, stretch and fold the dough over itself and return to the bowl. It is easier to wet you hands, to keep it from sticking.

At the end of the rise, pre-heat the oven to 480 F (240C).

Place the dough on a heavily-floured cloth or baker's peel, and cut it, using a dough scraper into fairly even pieces. Let the cut pieces rest, and proof for an additional 30 minutes or so before baking. Be careful not to degas the pieces of dough. Handle with care!

Bake for 35 minutes or until dark golden brown and the surface is blistery. Cool on a rack.

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December 22, 2013 / briannasw

Studying Abroad

So I’m not sure if I’ve said anything on here about it yet but this summer I am trying to study abroad in Spain. I’m going to take an international marketing class in Bilbao for 3 weeks. I’m not sure if I can do it financially but I’m going to try my best to save enough money for it. I decided to make a little jar for the beginning of my funds. The main quote says “this is for experiences not for materialistic things.” I put other quotes on it such as “the things I never want to forget” and “through travel I became aware of the outside world and found my own way to be a part of it.”

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  1. amandarenee0224 / Dec 22 2013 9:49 pm

    I LOVE IT!!

Leave me some love... xoxo

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News Details

Food Start-Ups: Making a Mint and Growing Strong in Connecticut, November 14 at the University of Bridgeport

Leslie Geary
Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Learn how food start-ups harvest their entrepreneurial spirit, seed their financing, and make bread out of grains, grapes, and grog at “Food Start-Ups: Making a Mint and Growing Strong in Connecticut,” at 5:30 p.m., Thursday, November 14.

The free lecture and networking event will be held at the Schelfhaudt Gallery, Arnold Bernhard Center, 84 Iranistan Avenue, Bridgeport.

Panelists include:

Janet Steinmayer, CEO of Appleseed Food Frontiers (Darien, CT)
Appleseed Food Frontiers provides go-to-market business planning services for expansion-stage food and beverage companies seeking to build and scale their businesses. It also makes angel investments in select companies meeting its investment criteria.

Ruth Frantz, Henri’s Reserve (Southport, CT)
Prior to founding Henri’s Reserve, an online vendor of boutique, high-quality champagne, Ruth Frantz was former head of marketing for Pernod. Her expertise has made her a leader in the spirits industry.

Margaret Sapir and Mitchell Rapoport, Wave Hill Breads (Wilton, CT)
Margaret Sapir and Mitchell Rapoport left corporate jobs to establish this highly successful Wilton, CT-based bakery after a fateful dinner in Vermont, where they fell in love with the bread. Today, their own artisanal loaves sell at Whole Foods, Balducci’s, and other high-quality markets.

Media contact: Leslie Geary, (203) 576-4625,


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Giveaway: SOUNDBITES @ 930 Club (To Benefit DC Central Kitchen)
May 12, 2010 | 9:45AM

As part of BYT’s Food Month, we’re HONORED to offer media support to a FANTASTIC charity event going on next Sunday @ 930 Club.

On May 23rd for the first time 9:30 Club will expand to its exterior, for an afternoon/evening where some of DC’s best chefs and some of DC’s best musicians come together to benefit DC Central Kitchen which has been combating hunger in DC for 21 years now (check out Jose Andres raving about their programs here).

With the purchase of a ticket to SoundBites, not only will proceeds go to the area’s neediest people, but foodies will get to taste the specialties from 18 popular D.C. restaurants and caterers – including BGR the Burger Joint, Busboys and Poets, Church Key, Commonwealth Gastropub, Cork, EatBar, Fresh Start Catering,

Harry’s Tap Room,
Indique, Jaleo, Marvin, Maddy’s Bar and Grill, Masa 14,
Mie N Yu
, Radius Pizza, Sauca, Taylor Gourmet, and Zola, Kitchen/Wine Bar. The chefs will offer tastes of their signature dishes throughout the evening, showing their support.

We are hungry just thinking of it.

For music fans, The dance floor will be as busy as the roomful of palates, since the crowd will also be treated to the sounds of DJ Will Eastman, US Royalty, Bluebrain, Fatback DJs, Beautiful Swimmers and Midnight Kids over the five-hour event.

Tickets cost 30 dollars a pop (Well worth it, even if it wasn’t for a good cause) and are available at the 9:30 Club box office or online at

NOW-you should buy the tickets FOR SURE but we do have 5 PAIRS to give away to 5 lucky winners this week (please consider still making a donation) in hopes of spreading the word about the event some more.

To enter to win, let us know what your favorite bite of food in DC is in the comments.

Winners will be notified early next week and

Your Email Address Will Not Be Published

Recent Comments:
  • Sujan says:

    I read your poitnsg and was jealous

  • Matt says:

    Ahi Tuna Burger at BGR.

    Rare tuna steak on a toasted brioche bun, topped with grilled pineapple and pickled ginger with teriyaki sauce. Changed my life.

  • CC says:

    this may seem crazy but brickskeller has the best personal size pizza! i go there just for their pizza–the sauce is so unique. i will definitely spread the word! mr. egger as well as him program is wonderful.

  • Chris Z says:

    Tater tots from ChurchKey. These puppies trump Ore Ida. Crispy on the outside but buttery smooth on the inside, I have a hard time not dunking them in my fresh, crisp cask ale.

  • Molly says:

    Masa 14’s crispy shrimp small plate….TO DIE FOR

  • matt says:

    tacos (al pastor, carnitas) and tortas (cubana) from super tacos and bakery in admo on columbia. but only during the warmer months–if the front door is closed that place reeks worse than dan’s cafe.

  • Sacha says:

    I adore the grassfed burgers at Commonwealth–medium rare with cheddar, please.

  • padrock says:

    Edge of the Woods pizza from Pete’s Apizza. I wish I came with deep fried eggplant…

    And of course, I will donate to DC Central Kitchen regardless.

  • Erica Walters says:

    As much as I love all our restaurants, I’ve gotten into a brunch-at-home habit, inviting friends over to save money and eat everything buffet-style, so I don’t have to decide between pancakes and eggs ever again. Favorite bite of food is homemade macaroni and cheese with sundried tomatoes with a mimosa on the side. Looks nice, too.

  • rm says:

    bibb w/ peppadew and feta @ cashions eat place.

  • J says:

    roasted potatoes with malt aioli at bar pilar. food-gasm.

  • Yum says:

    nutella calzone at Coppi’s

  • sanbasl says:

    the cracked black pepper wings and the skillet cornbread at Founding Farmers are awesome.

  • blanca estela says:

    the vegan brownie at dos gringos cafe is my jam. it’s the food equivalent of the hottest r&b track you’ve ever heard.

  • Noah says:

    Crabcake at CF Folks. Hands down this is the early bird special joint for lunch + the guy who rings me up is what I imagine the shitmydaysays dad to be like in real life (unlike the upcoming CBS sitcom).

  • stephc says:

    a mouthful of ben’s chili YUM.

  • sarah says:

    oregon ave sandwich from taylor!!

  • Rachel says:

    The brussel sprouts at Oyamel take a childhood nightmare and turn it into a taste of heaven.

  • dan says:

    cheesesteak with the works from the philly water ice place on H

  • Kristen says:

    Free samples at the social safeway!

    • Valeria says:

      It’s about what you believe and what you have done.There’s a news about a fresh garduate “lawyer” who had forgotten to appear for his/her client within 14 days :p

  • Nate 1 says:

    The four-piece sandwich at Horace and Dickie’s Seafood Carryout on 12th and H. If you don’t know, now you know.

  • haicougar says:

    Bacon lollies at
    Founding Farmers make my mouth
    and belly happy.

  • Michael says:

    Fried Motherfuckin Chicken from the Hitchin’ Post
    anything from J.Bell’s Winghouse.

    I love me some black people food and I hate paying for presentation or atmosphere.

  • xelizabethcorex says:

    Amen Michael!

    For me it’s the fried chicken liver/chicken gizzard combo at Golden Skillet!!!

  • Mandy Reid says:

    Nothing is more satisfying after walking around Georgetown all day than the Lamb Pide at Morso Express! Add a little Greek yogurt to it… DELICIOUS!

  • Michael says:

    Why would anyone other than a dumb tourist walk around Georgetown all day?

  • LN-K says:

    Mussels with tomatoes and thyme at Bistro du Coin…. with a side of earplugs, please.

  • alex says:

    The heady vegan meatball joint at Pumpernickel’s on Conneticut.

  • alex labasquetbol says:

    The heady vegan meatball joint at Pumpernickel’s on Connecticut.

  • CK says:

    cucumber uemboshi roll at STICKY RICE!

    • Vasile says:

      I am currently fniishing up my BA in Child Development and Family Studies and thus far I have only work with children from 2 weeks to adolescent while helping support their families. The Physician that I would want to work under is an Obstetrics (OB) because they are in direct contact with pregnant women and their children during pregnancy. I would choose this particular specialty for a variety of reason such as having the opportunity to see individuals become parent for the first time, seeing how much love is surrounded in the process, being there to help the mothers while there in a vulnerable state. One of my main reasons is because I think that the whole birthing process is fascinating and to be able to be a part of family’s lives while going through this process, I imagine to be extremely rewarding.A of physician specialty that I would least want to work with would be a psychiatrist. Although I believe that psychiatrist do some spectacular work and help a lot of people through difficult situations I personally believe that this job would be to emotionally draining and overwhelming for me. This makes me question whether or not I would be able to handle it. When I set out to do a job my goal is to do the best that I can and I don’t feel that I could successfully do this job to the best of my ability.

  • Brandon says:

    Any of the milkshakes at Z-Burger in Tenleytown. Seriously, they’re the best shakes I’ve ever had.

  • ocho cinco bingo bango says:

    A pepperoni jumbo slice sprinkled with drama from the night, innocent flirtation, and stanky leg shakes then wadded into a tighly packed ball and eaten like a jawbreaker

  • steph says:

    fish tacos at argonaut!

  • AB says:

    I’m sorry but Amsterdam Falafel. Only good falafel in this city, unless anyone else has a recommendation?

  • NP says:

    I agree with Mandy Reid….. everything I’ve ever gotten from Morso Express has been delicious!

    And Michael….. obviously you don’t go shopping in Georgetown ’cause if you did, you’d know that you can spend almost an entire day there, so no, not just “dumb tourists” walk around Georgetown all day.

    • Brian says:

      – Jesse and team, we cannot thank you enugoh for this incredible video of our wedding day. We are blown away by the detail and editing you put into this for us, and we are beyond thrilled. You will always be a special part of our lives, and can’t wait to work with you again on our clients’ weddings! Cheers!

    • Elena says:

      Posts like this make the intrenet such a treasure trove

    • Hop says:

      I simply want to tell you that I am just all new to webolg and actually loved you’re web blog. More than likely I’m going to bookmark your blog . You surely come with perfect articles. Cheers for revealing your website page.

  • Brian says:

    Three words, Beef Shish Kebab. Best thing at 3am in Georgetown @ Morso Express.

  • Megan says:

    The Weel Dressed Burito at Well dressed Burito…shhhh its a secret!

  • KM says:

    Oysters at Hank’s with lemon and fresh horseradish – no embellishment needed. intersperse w/ goldfish crackers as desired.

  • Kelli says:

    I miss Fetoosh and their hummus sandwiches, but I will happily nosh on Lebanese Taverna’s hummus

  • tc says:

    soo hungry after reading these replies….

    Food from many of the areas Peruvian eateries… yumyum

  • LF says:

    I think I live for Zola’s Lobster Mac N Cheese. Does it get any better than that? *swoon* I totally go there by myself to sit at the bar and order lobster mac with a glass of their passion drink. I’m inlove :~)

  • Beth says:

    Mozzarella and tomato sandwiches at Potenza

  • Danielk says:

    The hanger steak at Ray’s.

  • J Yu says:

    The marinated rib-eye beef, also known as bulgogi, served over a bed of white rice with a fried egg, and with sides of kimchi, seasoned spinach, and a small salad all for 7 bux, offered in the middle of downtown DC by a category redefining street food proprietor named L Street Vending. Spicy sweet red pepper paste? Check. Fresh healthy ingredients? Check. Smile on my face? Check.

  • Laela says:

    fish and chips sushi platter at perry’s

  • Nina says:

    Jaleo’s Apples with Manchego cheese tapa!!

  • Jackie says:

    Fish and chips at the Argonaut with a Black and Tan. Yum yum yum.

  • Kisha says:

    My favorite food in DC is Ful — a deep bowl of fava beans, diced tomatoes, onions, jalepenos, with two scrambled eggs served with two steaming bread buns. This is served at a literal Mom-and-Pop Eritrean restaurant where 18th intersects with Florida. The tables are communal and the food is authentic, a rare and delicious experience, unique to Washington, DC!

  • nicole o. says:

    iceberry~ (honeydew melon w/ mochi)