Public Disturbance w/ Verbatim

Verbatim is Columbia College's Performance Poetry Group, and they will be doing some guerilla action on the 12th. to check it out (and possibly add your voice) meet at 600 s. michigan at the underground cafe at 6 pm.

also:
november 20th: silvertongue and verbatim open mic/poetry slam. friday from 6-10 at the quincy young / hokin annex.

the EIN c O n vneince

the sweetest little loft space you're not sposta kno about, if you ever get invited to one of their invitation-only shows, take it. last nite we ventured over to roscoe vill to check out the fabulous songstress rachele eve, who was dressed, like most everybody, as a skeleton. the bands ranged in quality and style, mostly on the indie to punk track, playing with a passion that led to melting skeletal faces and passed out drummers on the sidewalk in front of the bar next door, and the crowd was super chill, some in costume for this post day of the dead show, others sporting the classic nerd look, sweaters and hefty glasses, making the floor throb with their goofy white people dance moves. the show started at 7 and wound down around two, when everyone was kicked out except "vips". the after party consisted mainly of a cheesy 80s music dance party. good times.

Roxbox Poetry Jam

monday nite starting at nine @ 2624 N Lincoln Ave

featuring Switchback Books

$3 drafts, $4 shots, library books, books for sale, poetry readings, open mic, possible nudity.

as joe put it on the facedbook:

"Hi poets and poetry lovers, Joe Bly here with some great news. I am hosting a monthly poetry open mic and with your help it will be Chicago's new home of the late night poet. The better news? We are making sure this isn't going to be your typical open mic. On top of having fantastic featured readers every month, we are asking readers to bring their own work as well as pieces by their favorite artists to share. At The Rockbox Jam, our goal is for you to enjoy yourselves in a community created poetic realm. This means experiencing the balance of poetry from your freshest local artists to your age old favorites. We are all about having a good time, no pretensions here, just free exchange. So come and enjoy the words, show us what you love, and let the inspiration out. I'm happy to announce this Monday's featured readers come from Chicago's raddest and most debonair feminist press, Switchback Books! We will have a book table with their newest titles to check out, $3 drafts and $4 Jameson shots, and an eclectic mix of music all night long. A library of poetry books will available at the bar so everyone who wants to can read a piece. I think this is going to be a great night and I can't wait to see you there. Maybe a free shot or drink ticket will float your way... Thanks again and all my love, Joe."

The sneeze of the Daemon

Today I woke up to the mystikal sines of the apocolypse. When I rubbed my groggy ass cheeks, the sound came to me--familiar, easy, like something I've known for such a long time that you begin to lose proper perspective--the marching ant, the long divided numbers, the touch of pink in the Irish glove--I don't know them anymore. BO BO BO BO BO BO BO BO BO BO OB OB OB OB OB OB OB OB OB OB BO BO BOB OBO OB BOB OB BOBB O B Y O B O B Y O B O YO BYOBYOB OBYOBYOBYOBYOBYOBYOBYOBB The feeling of the pinch growing number.

College reality

College is like all these fuckin hamsters runnin around a maze givin awards to each other for coming up with a fuckin theory about cheese. I went to Columbia College for a few years, and I'm just constantly suprised at what goes on in places like this. Like there's a strict cult called the "Storytime Gang" that won't let anybody out of the circle. you're definitely not allowed to doodle, sneeze, or masturbate in the circle, nor can your eyes leave the eyes of the Eyemaster to wander out the window. then you chant in nonsensical unrelated word games...if you're lucky your professor will lean down and scramble, get out now. the poets down the street trade mostly in gibberish and hierchy. College is good times when you're not on the rack or in brazil, we had good times there, smoking in the park and passing around notebooks mostly. I drew spirals on my hand to fend off bad vibes. jabbing needles in my eyes made them callous off nicely. when my grandmother died we sliced up her coat on the maddening table. Trigger Trinadaddy didn't approve so I fed my brain to apes minus the waffles. it was a fabulous nightmare. kinda like that bad acid flashback shivering in woods when i couldnt stop falling down the trail. just this big fuckin circle, chasing around it, toe stumbling the big light the fuck? I was spose to cry about the indian but i forgot he wasn't a human he was a moviefilm. so we ate lobster in the starving square against the glass, college is where i learned some of these things too. and everything about evil white penises. but then i started thinking, there's lots of evil penises and vaginas and even some evil none of the aboves in the world. it doesnt seem to matter how much they've been bleached. humans are just fuckin strange. so you abandon the surface of the planet and step out of the Reality reality and into some other reality like Lizard reality or Spiralworld. and that's the best thing about college, you get passes to see some crazy shit.

it's a real toilet so be careful!

The American Astronaut

Bathroom Dancing!

a mercenary space pirate running from a space professor with a deadly sand gun who can't kill him until he forgives him. there are no women and I haven't been to earth so I don't understand that joke...

It's All in the Mustache

Teen Poet Superstar Saves Lives!

Already making valuable contributions to society as a poet/drug dealer, Teen Poet Mr. Fly has earned his mustache. During a poorly planned fire drill, Fly put on his fire marshall hat and led a group of talking dogs to safety.
"That man" Sparky barks, licking his balls vigorously while looking into the distance with a spoon in his eye, "saved my life".
Yes, Mister Fly is but one of many Teen Poet Heros of the new mellenium. Jess Rose recently saved a group of starving poets from sobriety with her magical glass reservoir. by scraping the glass she was able to save their ass...es. A Local SchoolBoy, Richard Dugan, of Our Lady of the Bleeding Womb, had this to say "i was just sitting there alone at recess. Jess Rose and HK and their possy came and showed me the wonders that could come in a brown bag. Now recess is So Much FUN!". Shortly afterwards, young Richard Dugan tragically succumbed to breast cancer, but his drunken underage smile lives on. Because we built a sculpture of it.
Baxter, one of the dogs whose life was brutally saved, composed a poem in praise of his savoir, "Ode to Fly, Not a Fly but a Guy Named Fly, and What a Guy, Oh My." Unfortunately, the rest of the text was lost in an unrelated fire.

att sucks

if i wanted somebody to plop me in a phone cord after slicing my head off so i can wander around opening endless doors to endless empty offices staffed by flesh melting faces with the eyeballs sucked out so i can stumble around the maze stinging myself on electrick currents while paper dollars bleed out of my aching muscles searchin for the cheese while walking papers covered in meaningless jibberish shove gerbals down my neck, i'd pay for it. and i am.

Broke City Olympics

What better way to say "fuck the olympics" than to wheatpaste this up on one of those (likely tax funded) leotarded pro-olympic flaywad sculptures set up in yuppiecommerceville? enjoy.

oh, and if you want the olympics real bad, maybe you can use newfangled technology to alter it into a thumbs up with YEAH OLYMPICS! on the bottom. that is if you wanna fuckin pay for it...

nonverbal poems (with vaginas)

http://delirioushem.blogspot.com/

a project of artistic response to female poets, featuring Daniela, Abi, and Flynn amongst others.

*

Anal Rape in the Harrowing Chinese SchoolGirl Poolhouse of PJ Piety

not a dugnovalesaachkay production

seriously, some anonymous joker sent us this. we were all like, wtf? but we decided to run it cuz we couldnt find any weed. not that we smoke weed, that would be illegal. we were going to hand it over to the proper authorities for destruction. not that we're narcs. we were gonna send an anonobot that would've self destructed at the first sign of police questioning. they're very reliable, those anonobots. just don't get too close to em.

,

"wait, is this the day the aliens have landed?"
"no, it's National Unexplained Phenomenon Day"
New Taxes on Pajama Bottoms, Buttons and Flies.
fruit?
zipper.

Review of Carnivore Carny

by All Words Copywrit All The Time Devour Press
excerpts:
Fair is Fair, bury the hatchet in vaginal mucus for sail to the children time. Once there was a city run by rats and animated pigeon robots. the sextoy robots had taken over. in this city was a diligent schmoet named PJ Piety who had carefully crafted a defense mechanism made of 011001 so he could own all the words. he stole all the words from the mouths of starving children, cut off their lips and taped them to his asshole. Four times an hour the Holy Hole would sing. it would sing songs about how mean and unjust all the other humans were before they got mechanized cuz they wanted to share words and they were communists.
"I got outta there with both lovely testicles intact" he told reporterbots at the scene, "but I had to scotch tape them to my forehead to stop the bleeding."
"let jesus fuck you!" his asshole sang as he fell into a deep state of epeleptic seizure, concentration, meditation, masturbation.
i went home. when i woke in the middle of the nite, 13 assholes were surround me, singing. four had assholes. and they sang

we are CHITOWPO,
we own all the buildings!
we own all the grass!
we own all the oxygen molecules!
you'll have to lick them outta our ass!

that is offensive to women! i screamed, but nobody listened cuz i was carving ovaries outta soap at the time.
but CJ Piety knew he wasnt crazy. He was the Jesus of Chitowpo. They were all trying to kill him. or anally rape him. o, they were clever. they would pretend like all they wanted to do was chew on words. theyd pretend like they couldnt hear him. but he knew that they'd scheduled their entire lives around his holy calendar. cuz it had holes in it, like swiss cheese. and it told the people the truth about how everyone was trying to anally rape his precious children. so PJ Piety decided to get some MOTHERFUCKING REVENGICIDE! he would not take that shit lying down. so he burnt down all the other calendars, even stonehenge, until nobody knew what day it was and the sun died. of venereal diseases. and PJ Piety masturbated in spasmotic glee.

...and they told the children, be careful which words you eat, or the PJ Piety will come...

next week: PJ Piety makes a web site about assramming elephants.

*

chicago poetry chicago poetry chicago poetry (x3=$45.6x3+9.18tx=$178.9)

tattoo a poet

Faith Rice, prez of verbatim (columbia's performance poetry group) is getting poetry branded-your poem could be on her skin! look for verbatim's Poetry Tattoo Competition at colum's new student convocation in grant park.

wanna get involved?

Elephantz is a community motherfucking art project, and we're looking to involve more folks in it. if you wanna get involved, give us a holler. we like people who like art, people who like making art, people who wanna have art shows, people who are good with words, people who are good times, anarchists, and renegade satanic monkey priests. elephantzine@gmail.com

another nite at carl's

O man was last nite fun...you mighta noticed me, i was the loud drunk obnoxious asshole that was runnin around with a string can phone...well i did say i had fun, did i not?...on the way up i nearly got attacked by the tree branches that are growing out of the apartment... the boys had set up a stage with boxes and windows and leafy branches and a microphone on a string at the front for the spoken words, and carl's room was made up like his mind with blue wood windows smeared with typewritten martian law pages and the usual typewriter for hire in the corner. katie heath (whose name i've now forgotten about a million times but who's personality is unforgettable) had some sweet pieces up in the hall like i need a job /hobby rolling papers and a liquor store map of her community, very handy indeed. Evan had some cool pieces up too, like bat glasses imploring "see me" but i can't really describe his style, you gotta see it. whitney (of roche moche) had some of her fucking amazing, haunting skeletal birdmouth paintings up too. There were lots of other kickass displays like birdsnests towers and photographs, with names on them that were all blurry (that or there was two of thems) and shit, kickass. Of course, it was Joe "OEM" Bly's day of birthening, so there was much drunken merry making and reuniting of folks we hadnt seen in a minute / all summer, happy to report that richard dugan is alive indeed, i also learned some interesting things about riker's from an irish ex-con...like prison rape? totally exaggerated. prison man on man action? everything you dreamed about and more. if you're into that kinda thing. Ike and Carl were the perfect hostesses, thanks for an awesome night guys! now to soak my head in a bucket of ice water...

notebook online

all pages of notebook online here.

"around the clock" by Peter Skvara, "hypno fancy" by Evan Crown, "funny guy" by Riley, "signs" by HK

and finally... That's All, Folks! Don't Forget to Tip Your Waitress!

This Friday!

"Join us for a three dimensional freak out of color, form and material. Walk the isles of a hand-made grocery store created completely out of paper, shoot hoops on a 3 story high basketball net, or just sit down at our collage table and create some work of your own. After the opening and subsequent hangover, come back on July 25th for an art-making BBQ throw down as we combine our creative energies to make collages which we will hand-deliver for free to the people walking around this great city. So drop on by, check out some good stuff and make some of your own. We will have magazines, scissors and glue on hand but feel free to bring your own collage materials to throw down."

Participants: Chris Roberson, Emily Clayton, Dr. James Harry Ewert Jr, Rod Hunting, Adrianne Goodrich , Peter Skvara, Chad Kouri, Matt Nicolas, Jim Kozar, Ed Marszewski, Ben Speckmann, Sarah Jeziorski, Richard Smith and more. Audio collage performances by Le Deuce and Rik Shaw.

getittogethershow.com

Brought to you by Chad Kouri and Dr. James Harry Ewert Jr.

from Pete.

"Magically Real" by Carl Aagesen

BRAVE NEW VOICES

International Youth Poetry Slam Festival
July 14-19

Kevin Coval hosts the finals at the Chicago Theatre (175 N State);
anyone under 24 gets in for a measly $8 to see young folks from "over 50 cities".

Friday July 17 @7 check out Saul Williams and Alix Olsen at "Bringing the Noise" at the Merle Reskin Theatre 60 E Balbo $10.

Life is Living
feat. Beau Sia & Saul Williams.
skating, basketball & soccer, dance battles, graffitti.
FREE Claredeon Plaza (at Montrose), Saturday July 18 10am-4pm

Semi-Finals at the MCA, Columbia, Chi Pub Radio HQ, & Biograph Theatre

www.Bravenewvoices.org

Chicago NOW Open House

Saturday the 11th (that's today, kids). "A celebration of feminist art." featuring music by Rachele Eve (5pm) and a reading by Daniela around 4pm at the EP theatre. FREE BOOZE.