Tuesday, April 8, 2014


English III's pre-Loaf.

Cross-Town Loafs
After my football club dropped a key fixture over the weekend, and drifted downward in the table toward the relegation zone, I decided to comfort myself by preparing a Loaf. I snapped a picture of the two main ingredients, ground beef and ground lamb, and texted it to my pal, English III, who supports the same football club. He has other nicknames, such as ‘Sausages’ and ‘Bag-O-Burgers’, but nothing (yet) about Loaf. Occasionally, he goes by ‘Chauncey’, but that’s a Stalag 17 spinoff, and anyone can go by ‘Chauncey’, because ‘Chauncey’ is all about breaking loose, so if you want to break loose, you, too, can be ‘Chauncey’, although being ‘Chauncey’ doesn’t automatically lead you to Loaf. Mostly, you hang around in water towers and agree to thoughts like, “Let’s blow.” Nevertheless, upon seeing the text message, English III declared his interest in preparing a second Loaf. We agreed to bake these Loafs simultaneously; we would publicize the Loafs; we would revel in our Loafing. English III and his wife would dine on the cross-town Loaf that he would prepare for them in their Upper Caucasia apartment.

A Brief History of Loafs
In the early days of our nation, the Federal Reserve Bank kept a pound of gold in Fort Knox for each pound of Loaf out there among the citizenry, among ‘The Beast’. If you had a Loaf, you could walk it over to Fort Knox and trade it, pound for pound, for gold. This was known as The Gold Loaf Standard. Lawmakers feared ‘The Beast’, particularly ‘The Beast’ without Loaf, and so, really scoured America for gold. The famous Gold Rush of the mid-1800’s could’ve just as easily been dubbed the Loaf Rush, and you can imagine hungry, boozy, rowdy gold-seekers, aka Forty-Niners, biting into a nugget the size and shape of a Loaf. Things got confusing. Just as when many thousands of years earlier, the Israelites crafted a Golden Loaf in the Sinai Desert, and fell to their knees in worship. God didn’t smite them for worshipping a golden idol—no, he smote them for following a crap recipe. He immediately summoned Moses to receive a 10-point Loaf manifesto, which has formed the basis of Western Culture. [Note: this article refers to Historical Loaf; for the rap song, “Bum Rush the Loaf”, please see disambiguation.]

The Loaf in Popular Culture and Social Media
Meryl Streep delivered her most memorable role as Loafie, in the great flick, Loafie’s Choice. In the film, Loafie must choose one Loaf over another Loaf. Streep garnered many awards for her acting, although how could it be acting, when Loaf is on the line? She must’ve been speaking “From tha stummick!” Other representations of Loaf include Marquez’s novel, Loaf in the Time of Caller I.D., and Robert Creeley’s cookbook, For Loaf. English III and I didn’t smoke hash, but we employed hashtag #MeetTheLoafs2014. We realize that we have left open the possibility of Simultaneous Cross-town Loafs in 2015, as well. Social media went haywire. We had hits. We had tags. We had Loaf.
My Loafwich, with stout pairing.
Note: Jayson Werth at the bat.

Bye Bye Loaf—Hello Loneliness
A woman asked me on a date just as I made myself a plate of Loaf. I like going on dates. The gal sits down. I sit nearby. And we get into stuff, like our deepest fears. Mostly, we talk around what we really want to say, which is fun, also. It can be wild to be a human being, and going on a date might create some wildness in HD, but at the same time, I was about to hunker down with some serious Loaf. I thought about the Loaf // I thought about the date // I thought hard for all of us // and then I decided to hunker down with my Loaf. Now, ‘hunkering’ is something I could really delve into—I wasn’t just hungry, I was ‘hunkery’ as well. I just felt like the time had come … to commit … to my Loaf.  

Thursday, April 3, 2014


Situation: A NASA astronaut encounters a Russian Cosmonaut on the streets of Brooklyn. Slogan: “Hey, I T’ink I Soyuz in Outta Space!”

Situation: A mother must choose which of her two children will get the last bowl of a canned legume and sausage stew. Slogan: “Beanie Weenie Miney Moe.”

Situation: A queasy gunslinger squares off with a U.S. marshal gone bad. Slogan: “Bilious The Kid vs. Wyatt Perp.”  

Situation: The bakery flubs its caraway recipe, resulting in misshapen baked good. Slogan: “Awrye Bread.”

Situation: Your chicken requires institutional care. Slogan: “Commit a Fowl.”

Situation: The heroin trade, long persecuted in the big city slums, relocates to the great outdoors. Slogan: “Your Habitat Is Where Your Habit Is At.”

Situation: Young Americans engaging in mobile communications with their friends south of the border. Slogan: “Gen X Text Mex.”

Situation: A famous ovoid character from nursery rhymes attracts a lover. Slogan: “The Yolk Who Slept with Humpty Dumpty . . . Laid an Egg.”

Situation: A famous rapper / actor acquires a deforming illness that also turns him into an arena rock star. Slogan: “Mos Def Leper.”

Situation: A woman projects obvious disinterest in her shower scrub. Slogan: “She Is Aloofah.”

Nota bene: To each of these may be affixed the phrase “. . . And Other Poems” if one seeks to produce a book of verse. To each of these may be affixed the word “Sucka!” if one seeks to engage in ripe ripostes with other. To each of these may be affixed $1 million in negotiable bank notes and mailed via Opium Door Policy or Wino-Soviet Relations c/o Blood And Gutstein, R&D Dept., Mailstop Where the Glottal Stop, etc. etc., My Apartment, Right Now, Zip Coat Jo’ Mama. 

Tuesday, March 25, 2014


[1.] Did You Run?

Your selfie entitled “D’oh!piate of the Masses” with hashtag #RunRiot may not qualify you as organic Dissident. Dis incident must have dint of inquiry, straightaway. First of all, hop off the treadmill, Gus. Technically, yes, you ran, but you ran indoors, and at that, fess up: you engaged Preset #1: Interpretive Pace to REM’s (This One Goes Out To) “The One I Love.” Until your earbuds fell out. “(Fiiire!)”  Did you sidle? Did you jaunt? Did you amble or ambulate? You may have skidded and you may have slid and you may have tripped, jogged, or slipped. “(Fiiire!)” We know that you click-liked several status updates, never mind your liberal commentary with devil emoticon. How do we know this? Because Facebook knows, and if Facebook knows, then the Government knows, too, and since the Government commits itself to error, I’d look over my shoulder from this point forward. “(Fiiire!)” Hey: Would you cut off that B****y song!

[2.] Did You Riot?

I know you’re into Occupy, but if you’re gonna Occupy the john, can you at least lock the door, so the john reads Occupied? You do have options by the by. Port Authority and Port-A-Potty now offer Port-A-Pottery: a 21st Century slop jar for the Occupier on the go. Or, rather, the Occupier who has to go. Available now at Port-A-Pottery Barn. But we digress. Let’s move on to the results of your French Test, for, in order to riot, you must demonstrate simple Franco-phony competency. I regret to inform you that Emile Zola did not publish an article entitled “J’appose.” He did not write about human thumbs and he did not consider himself part of the Apposition. Have you opposed? Have you vetoed? Have you vetoed the line? Have you headbutted detritus? Have you denounced gentrification? Maybe you declared a point of order. Maybe you skipped dessert. Maybe, just maybe, you posted negative feedback in your native hemisphere, but are you a riot?

[3.] Did You Run Riot?

Understand this: you may have Jaunt Oppose. You may have Slide Denounce Gentrification. You may have Sidle Veto, but did you run riot? You may have Ambulate Declare a Point of Order. You may have Trip Headbutt Detritus. You may have Jog Skip Dessert, but did you run riot? You could’ve Run Veto the Line. You could’ve Trip Riot. You could’ve Skid Riot. You could’ve Run Post Negative Feedback. But did you Run Riot? Understand this: the U.S. Senate will now vote on the Run Riot Act of 2014. First, the Clerk will Read the Riot Act to the chamber but the Senators feel scalded. They yearn to say something like “hurl” or “hurl invective” but they say “hurl infective” without knowing any better. Joe Biden grins that tie-breaking grin of his. As for me, it’s been years since I ran riot. I’m headed home. I cross the street but someone honks at me. Understand this: the driver, therefore, is the honker, and I, the pedestrian, am the honkee.

Tuesday, March 18, 2014



Dan Gutstein as Dan Gutstein
The Hand as The Hand

Running Time:
59 seconds

Shot on Location:
Penn Line #520

Advance Praise:
“What Gutstein accomplishes in 59 seconds that I could not accomplish in 6,240 seconds. No, that’s a question. What did he actually accomplish?” —Oliver Stone

“It’s like Oliver Stone, but with a twist, but not like Oliver Twist, more like Twisted Sister, but not like Twisted Sister, in fact, there’s no sister at all.” —The Rock

“I headed for the Exitus halfway through, and stepped into another world, where Moses (played by The Rock) was twisting a stone to get water.” —Billy Crystal

Other Movies You Might Enjoy:

Tuesday, March 11, 2014


Though I haven’t witnessed a crime, I’d still like to enter the witness protection program: (*) I could start a new life (*) With a mountain view (*) Attend fish fries with little remorse (*) See the Times delivered to my door (*) AND, I could get one of those robes, those witness protection robes. If fewer witnesses decide to topple kingpins, then maybe the Feds could keep a Witness Protection Wait List. At the very least, they should vend some Wit-Pro gear down at the J. Edgar Hoover. I gotta get me one of them Under Armour robes—with the terrycloth and the belt and the cargo pocket—that really separates and defines me.


In my witness protection dream, the Feds spirit me off in a King Lear Jet. The trip has a mountain view. The landing has a mountain view. We taxi to the gate where we park beside an enormous aircraft, a Jumbo Jet Li. The martial arts actor, himself, appears on the tail, gazing upon a mountain view with enviable wushu modesty. He, too, has entered the witness protection game, spiriting-off his share of the Protected-to-be. In my first morning of protection, I slip on (at last!) one of them robes, open the front door, and stoop for the Times. The headline declares a merger between King Lear Jet and Jumbo Jet Li—King Lear Jet Li. “O Cruel World,” I howl, while startling awake, “O Cruel World!”


I witness a shoplifting and approach the store detective with details. I’d seen two kids pocket some Peppermint Patties but I throw in some Hot Wheels and some Belinda Carlisle ringtones—for greater effect. “Do you think I could get protection?” I ask. “What?” says the store detective. “Relocation,” I offer, trying to explain. “Sure,” he says, tossing me out the automatic doors, which part just at the right moment. “Relocation,” he emphasizes, as the double doors clap together in a single beat of applause, he on the inside, I on the outs. But I’m not letting that deter me. No, I plan on witnessing some very important crimes, yes I do. I plan on demonstrating, eh!, that ‘witness protection’ ain’t just a condom on a testifier! 

Thursday, March 6, 2014


A basic system for all students.

I spoke recently to a group of interdisciplinary sculpture students who, in addition to conceiving of complex artworks, faced the task of writing project summaries for all their pieces. These summaries, designed to clock-in at 250 words apiece, would take the form of one  longish paragraph, or a few short paragraphs. Rather than lecture the class with a standard “blah blah” “resource-room” “rah rah” “concept-heavy” “go get-em” kind of dealie, I presented a model, with examples, that emphasized three steps in effective paragraphing plus some ruminations on the logistics of sitting down to write. While this model may oversimplify the writing process, I think it does offer all students—not just sculptors—the kind of basic pathway that they can emulate. If it did lead to “robotic” sentences or paragraphs, at least these attempts would have muscle and sinew, rather than fluff and fat. It follows: 

1. Write Actively

For active sentence writing, keep subject and verb close together—right next to each other if possible. Avoid weak verbs such as “use”, “have”, “be”, and at that, especially “be” and its other forms (were, was, is, been, being, etc.)


I reflected upon monumental landscape paintings when conceiving of this sculpture.
I drew several mock-ups before assembling materials.
I built my sculpture from metal, wood, sand, and fiberglass.
The piece duplicates the soaring lines of trees and mountains.
It rocks.

2. Add Transitional Language

You can’t start every sentence the same exact way. To avoid “sameness” in sentence construction, one can add transitional words or phrases, such as: “moreover”; “in addition”; “afterward”; “as well as”; “all in all”; “furthermore”; “in the end”; “likewise”; “in particular”; and “then”. You can insert a transition at the beginning of a sentence or even in the middle.


I reflected upon monumental landscape paintings when conceiving of this sculpture. I drew several mockups, afterward, before assembling materials. Then, I built my sculpture from metal, wood, sand, and fiberglass. In the end, the piece duplicates the soaring lines of trees and mountains. It rocks.

 Of course, some sculpture can be very frisky!

3. Include Specific Detail

These would include items like the appearance of your piece; the cultural references and inspirations that led you to create it; the materials; the techniques of assembly; your aims in conceiving of it; the tools you employed; and the concepts you developed in the process.

4. Logistical Matters

Try to write a paper in two “sittings.” Write the whole thing on the first try, and then, on the second try, give it a good revision. Or, write half of it on the first try and another half on the second try. Decide on a topic early and don’t switch. If nothing else, pour effort into your writing. Showing that you care about the topic goes a long way, even if the sentence-writing needs work. 

Tuesday, February 25, 2014



Oh, great. The Extroverts are coming. “The Extroverts are coming.” They brought their friends, too: some Extra-verts. Now you’ll have to perform the entire suite of difficult handshakes: the clap, the hug, and the snap. With everyone! Here come the two Joes: Slappy Joe and Sloppy Joe. “Where’s Joe?” someone says. “I dunno,” says Slappy Joe. “You seen him?” says Slappy Joe. “Nah,” says Sloppy Joe. “I ain’t seen him.” It starts to rain, a sloppy rain. It starts to wind, a slappy wind. We go to the basement, to the Coffers, but discover, much to our chagrin, all the Coughers have been locked in the Coffers. It’s a Coffers fulla Coughers. Boy, are they relieved to see us. A clock that can’t tell time … has a tick disorder.


A bear chases a Russian man up a tree. “Nyet!” shouts the man, but the bear knows the difference between “Nyet!” and a Kalashnikov. “Nyet!” shouts the Russian as the bear climbs the tree. Perchance the bear shall turn on you someday, which is a good reason to avoid Russia, altogether. If you had to choose between the clippiz (sic) and the tweeziz (sic) which would you choose? One will buzz while the other will pluck. When your choices are getting (a) buzzed or (b) plucked—I suppose your choices ain’t half bad. This isn’t what isn’t coming toward you, and by that I mean the bus, the bus isn’t coming toward you, ever, despite the GPS readout, despite the GPS “arriving” readout, but that’s not what this is all about, no, this isn’t what isn’t coming atcha. The mockingbird swoops, of course, but the raptor is comin’ atcha, too. The gung-ho osprey swoops. It is so gung-ho, this osprey, it has maximum osprey de corps.


Your order arrives. An optimistic helping of waffle with blueberry “compote” on a big round plate: it arrives. “Compote,” you think. “Isn’t that a pile of junk in the corner of the garden?” Huh. Now it’s on your waffle. You sit down and decide to self-radicalize. The time has come. Every other attempt at self-radicalization (blueberry compote, etc.) hasn’t yielded much in the way of radical behavior. You notice a box of inflammatory literature on the front stoop, with a sign that reads, “Free Radical.” So long as you’re moving forward, the back of your head is—comin’ atcha! Scams and plausible deceptions may appear, but a few good words persevere. If you’re still reading this—and I hope you are—it means that I love you. So? … Make me an offer. 
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