Tag Archives: Shia LaBeouf

Broccoli and Canadian Mist at 30,000 minus 29,994 feet

8 Jan

rob-thomas

 

Broccoli and Canadian Mist at 30,000 minus 29,994 feet

 

Time: 9 or 10 days ago (give or take a Halloween or two)

Place: Earth

 

This morning I woke up and immediately

rolled over on the couch and hit the refresh

button and found Shia LaBeouf still sitting there

 

in that movie theater trying to saddle through every one

of his own movies he was sleeping in that sort of way that tired

people sleep on airplanes or obligatorily long car rides—eyes open

and then not open, like stop motion blinking but even when

they’re open there’s really nothing/not much there

his body may be propped up in front of his own

movies but his mind is wandering through the days

that always evict us because that’s what days were born to do

they’re born to evict us so my body’s propped

here/now watching Shia LaBeouf watching his own movies but my thoughts

 

fuck, my thoughts are still sitting on the floor of a time machine

hovering next to that night I was sitting with her in the other room over there

attempting to fly helicopters and figure out life over broccoli

 

and Canadian Mist we’d placed the plate of broccoli

next to the landing pad of dead cigarette butts and as the chopper flew over

the wind from its blades dusted the cigarette ash over the broccoli like

soft pepper or hard pencil shavings or the pixilated tinsel strength

of a raincoat sized crush—there was ash hot tubbing it up with the vegetable dip

 

as her pumpkin trumped everything and my darkness flipped a switch

every time she laughed or her smile reentered the room

as the crimini mushrooms critiqued my helicopter remote control thumb work

unperturbed by my unsophisticated mispronouncing of their name

because they’re just mushrooms for cripe’s sake and being roomed mush

tend not get all worked up or offended all that easily about shit

 

so you know, you’ve gotta love them for that

and also for the fact that they’re delicious

or at least my memories insist they’re delicious

 

it’s been a long time now since I’ve had mushrooms

or a good night’s sleep or an actual orgasm with another human

particilatorily participating in the room because I’m legitimately messed up

and all these days go by now like they’ve invested everything they’ve got left in jetpacks

and in the mist/midst of all this jet-packing the days they evict us

at ridiculous speeds

but that doesn’t mean we give up

does it?

 

the days may be shitty landlords

but who needs landlords

when you’ve just had your heart stitched back together

with broccoli and gravity defying artifacts

and an unexpected tube of pumpkin shaped super glue

 

I’m a smiling sloppy helicopter pilot right now

giggling at a plate of uneatable broccoli 9 days ago

life past that? all these 9 to 10 days later

 

every second is a brand new soundtrack

and every soundtrack is at least 50% Matchbox Twenty

and there are music snobs out there that may mock that

but for me, Rob Thomas has always had my back/

so that’s a good thing, as

 

the past kicks off its straight jacket

and pretends to not comb its hair

 

I keep pace

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Were You Watching That, Helen

14 Nov

shia lb

 

Were You Watching That, Helen

 

It must’ve been cold in that theater

where Shia LaBeouf watched 72 hours of his own movies

in a row—with his t-shirt under a grey hoody under some

enormous army store jacket eating what appeared to be candy coated

 

cocaine out of a small soda cup and every once in a while

between moments of almost sleeping he cracked a smile

or scratched his nose or threw his hood on and silently farted

Were you watching that, Helen?

 

 

Did you see the medium-close framed selections

of optional human emotions that have been on display here

electronically over the past 3 days?

 

Or were you otherwise occupied

by I don’t know, whatever the fuck it is that otherwise occupies

you these days. How would I know?! Yes. How would I know?

 

I took herbal Viagra last night and my dick stalled straight like it was a Nazi

standing for 3 hours in front of Hitler despite the fact that my dick

is not a Nazi. But you already know that, right? I mean, your vagina

was from Poland. And my dick was on board with that

 

Shia LaBeouf has a facial expression for our situation

I’m not sure if you caught it. It happened around 58 minutes inside

his detached dude re-watching of Holes or was it Disturbia

or that goddamn time he swung through the trees with monkeys

 

like he was purposely trying to destroy the legacy of Indiana Jones

Either way, tonight I’m smoking alone and cooking a pizza

Tonight you’re building your new life on the carcass of our old

 

battle field and tonight Shia LaBeouf’s probably falling asleep

while taking a shit on some pretty chick he met at the movie theater’s

orange toilet. With his mouth filled with forgottenly chewed bologna

because that’s how things roll

He Just Yawned

11 Nov

shia cry

He Just Yawned

Watching the new David Foster Wallace bio-pic

made me miss my old bandanas it made me start

blaming Jesse Eisenberg for things that he was probably

never involved in it made me start drinking more

Diet Rite I get sloppy when I’m sober while she always tended

to sober up after being sloppy but that doesn’t seem like something

that should be insurmountable, right? That sounds like something

that should be totally mountable! I’d mount that, right?

Wouldn’t you mount that, Helen? Shit I know I’d promised myself

I’d stop writing about the shit you mount but fuck you. You should want

to mount that! You should….I’m sorry I got distracted Shia LaBeouf’s live streaming

himself watching 72 hours worth of his own movies and he just yawned

Helen, you preternatural mounter of damn near everything else

besides that thing that was us working this out

he just yawned