The show is still up for another week, closes next Saturday: Rosamund Felsen Gallery, Bergamot Station B4, Santa Monica, CA.
January 21, 2012
CXXVII (the missing Inertia)
This compulsive need to ‘actualize’ myself
Has consumed far too much of my being.
I wish I could divest myself
Of this tiresome illusion
That I have something to offer.
It would make it so much easier
For everybody concerned.
Not that anybody else is concerned.
January 9, 2012
‘A work of the highest moral, social and aesthetic value’: The Inertia Variations on Amazon
January 7, 2012
Literary Event of the Year… so far
Book Soup and Kerosene Bomb press presents.
The Literary Event of the Decade
On Thursday Jan 19th at 7pm,
John Tottenham and Anthony Ausgang
will appear at Book Soup.
8818 West Sunset Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90069
(310) 659-3110
Tottenham will finally be putting the Inertia Variations to rest,
giving the last-ever reading from his lauded collection
of 8-line poems on the subject of work-avoidance,
indolence and failure.
Ausgang will be bringing The Sleep of Puss Titter to life –
the hallucinatory ravings of a hyper-articulate madman –
with a rare public airing of his inimitable spam novel.
This promises to be a night that will be spoken of for years,
featuring two innovators and orators of the first water.
Don’t let the remote (for some) location, inconvenient hour
and lack of parking come between you and this
night of high-spirited seriousness.
June 16, 2011
Scorched Earth Policy
Bitterness is all the rage.
Resentment burns through me,
Destroying everything in its path,
Burning up the sadness, burning up regret,
Burning up fear and desire;
Charring, gutting, exhausting me.
I can’t take the corrosive bitterness
I have forced upon myself.
I know that it’s all my own fault.
But I can’t let that stop me
From resenting other people.
May 24, 2011
SONG OF DAWN
I saw the sun rise by accident.
It was a horrible sight.
Annoyed by its splendor, I sought refuge
in a moist pillow, and lay there, alone,
at the dawn of another day,
that brought me closer to another death,
pondering the vanity of my solitude,
the vanity of procrastination,
and the tiresome inevitability of waking up
again the same person.
It might still be possible to change,
but obstinately I remain the same,
hoping that others might take solace
in my consistency.
But perhaps they take no solace in it,
perhaps they too find it tedious.
John Tottenham 