This blog has no title. It's like The White Album. What's up?

First things first, for all of you tennis fans, Agassi beat Blake in a fifth set tiebreak. The Semi's will be aired Saturday (12pm-6pm) on CBS.

Agassi beat Xavier too :)

The above was my first technological smile. It is probably my last. Except when I mention that Jim's Whole Milk will be published by Effing Press :) That was the second.

Now onto a response to Jim's post. Jim said:

"...Blogging is about community. Pirooz believes people are excluded here (maybe he will comment on this), but I see it very differently, I see this place as one of the most inclusive places I have been. How often do you walk up to someone of the same sex and say hello? I don’t do it very often. And honestly, when I am on the street minding my own, I don’t like it when others do it. But here, we can always say hello. I like it when people come over and visit. then I can go and see them and meet their friends. I think the community is getting larger..."

In this context, it seems like I'm against blogging. That is not the case. I am not against anyone connecting with people. No, what I was commenting on, specifically, was the literary world, and, on a much broader sense, the exclusion present in all artistic genres.

What do I mean?

Well, I'll tell you. It's about language, baby. Language. For me, language is the key to any situation. In a job, if you got JobSpeak down, you get the job. You got WhopperTalk flowing, you talk Whoppers. If there's some HeartSpeak on the dash, well then dash that out. Right on. Straight up now tell me...

Now my issue, and this is my thing, so take it or leave it, is that my language, my writing language is funky and fresh. It likes to take a dip in uncharted territories. It likes a good car wash. It doesn't mind giving a shout out to Eskimo Pies or Transformers. In short, I dig writing aka language that connects to me and my crew. Mainly, me, so far, and you, my crew, who are reading this.

Now when I go visit other blogs, other circles, if you will, most won't respond to anything I say. They're like, "What is he saying?" My complete guess on this is that I write like I'm doing here. If you've visited this site once, you know I can delve into various voices. Some are a bit more WHACK than other, or like Michelangelo says, "you talk like a little kid and someone stuck in the 50's."

Now you take this G money fake sound chink the change roll busting, and throw that mustard jargon onto an uninformed, or better yet, strange environment, and people tend to dismiss certain comments. They're like, "Hmmm. He is from South Pole. Most abort. Must take sequence A to square root of major silliness."

This judgment factor, which is a fact of reality, has got me thinking about language in general. That maybe, the true unifier for our country lies not in race, religion, etc., but in language. That if we were all given an equal chance at adopting a certain level of language, we would be less inclined to turn certain people off, because they like to sing, "Nothing but a G thang, baby. Two loped out niggaz goin crazy. Death Row is the label that pays me."

Or, better still, have an artistic community that is open to language outside the traditional poetic discourse. That can jam it sideways with a hammer on the porch of goodness. That will say, "I just didn't like the poem. It was too cotton mothball which way wild on the freeloader."

In other words, or Shortspeak:

Wouldn't it be great if I could write a query or memo that starts with Yo? Wouldn't it be easier to write a poem without deciphering astericks marks and back slashes, and just have a line like, "I like milk. Whole milk." It's that simple for me.

I am calling out to the world with my simplicity. I am not excluding anyone. There is nothing wrong with poetic discourse. I simply wonder how change is possible with language. That the true change in our political framework is in direct relation to how we view language within certain settings (academic, government, corporate), and our willingness to subvert old modes of political correctness/propriety/and unwritten laws for the mustard inside all our hearts i.e.

Memo 201.673
Re: This Poem

Yo! Frank

You get my memo? I gave it to Susie. I made it into a Chinese star. You can throw it and everything. I bet it could go through a window. It's sharp. I used cardboard. Well, hopefully, you got it. We got that board meeting at 3. Jim wanted you to use his poem for the presentation. He says if they don't get what you're saying just throw it at Fillmore. His numbers have been slipping. It will send a message.

Anyway, hope it goes well. Let me know if you need another poem. This one took a long time to write. I might use an envelope next time. I think I can use the metal clasp. It will make the Chinese Star that much better.

I'll see you at the meeting, P.