Perceptible Me

I am changing and evolving emotionally, spiritually, and intellectually. But... I'll do it with humor and wit.
Sometimes when I am tired and pissed off I look at this picture and it makes everything okay again

Sometimes when I am tired and pissed off I look at this picture and it makes everything okay again

AN IDENTITY I CREATED FOR MYSELF IN HIGHSCHOOL

Yolanda Coca-Cola Evangelist Salami, “Sunflower Poe” was born in Nuuk, Greenland on April 12, 1986, and raised in Columbus, Ohio. In her adolescent years she applied to Ohio State University and was accepted. However, the adventurous Poe decided her life would be better suited in the “backwoods” of Lietuva as a traveling gypsy.

In her first two collections, I Know What’s In Your Hand, Surprise Collections(1997) and In My Pants (2000), Poe reflects on the African-American identity that she never had. Recently, she has published Ana’s Class Project (2007) a collection of poems and monologues based off a deep passion for the literary art of Kaplow – a style that originated in Westfield High School in Westfield, New Jersey many years ago.

An elephantitis survivor, Poe has also contributed an introduction to the anthology Big Limbs: Inspirational Stories of Woman Elephantitis Survivors(Summit Publishing, 2005).

Her honors include three PWE (Poets With Elephantitis) Image Awards for Literature in 2006, the Ana Kramer award for Distinguished Contributions to Arts and Letters in 2006, as well as more than twenty honorary degrees from national colleges and universities amongst her gypsy piers. She has been given keys to more than a dozen cities, including Burnt Corn, Bald Knob, Hooker, Sopchoppy, and Hot Coffee.

On March 12, 2009 Sunflower Poe suffered major brain damage after being hit by a bus while selling hot-dogs at a Gay Rights Parade in San Francisco. She currently resides in Sunny Oakes Hospital as a vegetable. Her poetry is still dictated using Morse Code and eye blinking.

My man Paul Tillich! Aint he a CUTIE

My man Paul Tillich! Aint he a CUTIE

The theologian Paul Tillich characterized existential anxiety as “the state in which a being is aware of its possible nonbeing.” Basically the moment when we think, “FUCK, WHAT HAPPENS AFTER I DIE.” The anxiety of not knowing what is out there, what comes next, it suffocates us, but never quite commits the murder. So what do we do? We buy into the Philadelphia cream cheese commercial and pray that heaven comes with bagels!

The theologian Paul Tillich characterized existential anxiety as “the state in which a being is aware of its possible nonbeing.” Basically the moment when we think, “FUCK, WHAT HAPPENS AFTER I DIE.” The anxiety of not knowing what is out there, what comes next, it suffocates us, but never quite commits the murder. So what do we do? We buy into the Philadelphia cream cheese commercial and pray that heaven comes with bagels!

Just a little religious humor coming your way. One of life’s biggest questions answered: Yes God is GREAT in bed!

Just a little religious humor coming your way. One of life’s biggest questions answered: Yes God is GREAT in bed!

Fuck Truth, Give Me A Dare

I can’t stop thinking about truth and dare. I want to create a secret society of truth and darers who spend days on end competing to see who can complete the challenge first. In response to these thoughts I have discussed this with friends and deemed the society a good idea. The rules are: dares can range from anything regarding sex to naked runs to befriending strangers to eating strange foods to anything else you can think of. None of the challenges will be forced, but neglecting to complete a challenge is much frowned upon. Also… first one to finish their challenge wins (not exactly sure what they win, but they win). So far this all feels like a great idea, but I’m sure I will change my mind soon enough. This is my way of broadening horizons and testing my personal boundaries. WISH ME LUCK!

A Morbid Story About Lollipops (written circa 2008)

Nobody seems to know how the rumor got started, especially not the folks at Tootsie Roll Industries in Chicago, Illinois, who have been politely deflecting mail-in requests for free Tootsie Roll Pops ever since the 1930s. Perhaps it was the delicate Boy, with the slight blue eyes who dreamed of being a comic book maker, or Owl with his cynical outlook on life and deceptive nature. Tootsie Roll claims there was never any sort of official promotion or contest associated with Tootsie Pop wrappers. So what does the Star and the American Indian shooting an arrow mean and how did it get onto every individual candy wrapper?

It all started in 1970 with the famous Tootsie ad campaign featuring Mr. Turtle and Mr. Owl. The commercial was never intended for TV, it just happened. The video camera just happened to be on. Boy was the son to the multi-conglomerate sugar salesman Ralph Sweets. Ralph had just invested millions of sugar cubes into Tootsie Roll Industries. Boy suffered from slight mental retardation, but Ralph still enjoyed his company. Turtle was the TV set janitor. He never accomplished much because of the leisurely pace in which he insisted on doing work, but the boss kept him around because of his happy disposition. Finally, Owl was a conglomerate protester who hated all sugar factories, specifically Tootsie Roll Industries. During that time there were many rumors regarding Tootsie Roll Industries’ use of slave labor in China.

So began the simple conversation that later led to pure advertisement heaven. Boy, being a curios fellow asked, “Mr. Turtle? How many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop?” Mr. Turtle did not have the slightest idea, yet the thought of disappointing the young boy was unbearable. Mr. Turtle responded, “I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask Mr. Owl,” knowing that Owl’s meanness would detract from Turtles lack of knowledge.  So Boy asked, “Mr. Owl how many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop?” Mr. Owl started to unpack his briefcase that was filled with statistics on the daily intake of sugar by young adults, and the price of cheap labor in China where sugar wasn’t even appreciated. Then Owl looked up at Boy’s face, Boy would never understand the findings on the paper so Owl responded, “Let’s find out (unwraps it and licks it once) One … (twice) Ta-whoooo [two] … (bites into it) three… ahem… three.”

Yes, Owl did eat the lollipop, but not because it was unbearably delicious, but because he wanted Boy out of his face. This is where the commercial ends, but not the story. Boy began to cry endlessly, Owl tried to calm him down but to no avail, so he pulled out a gun. “Boy you stop crying now and no one gets hurt. Boy you listen to me. Boy, stop your damn crying. BOY!!!!!” Because Boy was slightly challenged, he began to curl up into a ball and cried harder than ever before. Then, he exploded. Just like that, he combusted like a star. For the next five years Ralph watched and watched again the combustion of his son on the home video. At the end of the fifth year he declared that a star and an owl shooting a gun (commonly misclassified as an American Indian) be put on every lollipop wrapper in remembrance of the death of his son.  

Don’t drink and concert!

Don’t drink and concert!

Black River Lesson 1, Happy Birthday Pauline

It is in fact possible to fit 7 people around a very small circular table, have the owner call you cute, and successfully pass the one glass of wine around inconspicuously. And if you do plan on doing this, make sure to sing happy birthday.

Today I was inspired to google tefillin. Tefillin are small cubic leather boxes painted black, containing scrolls of parchment inscribed with verses from the Torah, with leather straps dyed black on one side, and worn by observant Jews during weekday morning prayer (Thanks Wikipedia). And this is what I found. Feminist or just plain wrong?????

Today I was inspired to google tefillin. Tefillin are small cubic leather boxes painted black, containing scrolls of parchment inscribed with verses from the Torah, with leather straps dyed black on one side, and worn by observant Jews during weekday morning prayer (Thanks Wikipedia). And this is what I found. Feminist or just plain wrong?????