the contessa

in an effort to distill a cacophony of fragmented thought bubbles into something more tangible i've taken my hand to poetry.  

by no means anything more than a humble novice, with not a metric measurement of formal training, there is a certain chest-puffing gratification in turning incoherent dribble into dribble which rhymes. 

the poems are inspired in part by constructed memories diluted through the lens of pop-culture with political, philosophical and theoretical undertones liberally saturated by the heady influence of socially mediated imagery and noises. 

to help me out and slow down my rather over-stimulated (post?) post-modern mind i've enlisted the aid of a rather smart orange 1970s-ish contessa typewriter.

despite her fiery temperament which results in a tangled mess when striking the keys with a little too much enthusiasm, i think we'll get along just fine.

it has also served to highlight my unfortunate dependence on autocorrect and the squiggly red underline.

so here's to relearning how to spell and turning what in any other circumstance would have been just another quasi-hipster soapbox rant on the state of contemporary society into exactly that with a few choice words that happen to sound similar.