Posts Tagged ‘video’

Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show “Living in a Big World”, live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in Chicago, Illinois). The show contained poems and music from orted musicins from Wisconsin, Ohio, Tennessee, New Mexico, and even Canada, as well as original sampled music, include the writings listed toward the bottom of this show explanation. But in this show, Janet Kuypers, because shw was exemplifying living in a big world (the title of the show), she drew a large chair, painted it onto a white canvas (which actually was a bunch of pieces of 8.5″ x 11″ paper stuck together) and attached it to a wooden base, so she could literally sit in a drawing of a large chair (it was 60″ wide, actually). The visual display of the artwork projected onto a large paper screen for this show (which once again was actually a bunch of pieces of 8.5″ x 11″ paper stuck together)was a drawn TV, and inside the TV a bunch of Janet Kuypers photographs from around the world was shown in this “drawn” TV.

Artwork included in the projected “television” display included:
The Reischtag in Berlin Germany, Tiananmen Square in Beijing China, a building in Agrigento in Cicily Italy, Air Force One with President George H. W. Bush at Pease Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, a downed airplane in Joliet, Illinois, an airplane in Naples Florida, the Arbeit Macht Frei gate at the Dachau Concentration Camp in Dachau Germany, Arches National Park in Utah, Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington Virginia, Bad Gastein Austria, as bamboo frest in Oahu Hawaii, a building in Bruxelles.Belgium, castles in Rome, the Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan with superimposed landmarks like an Egyptian pyramid and a building from India and the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben and Russian churches and a mountain from the Alps, the Colloseum in Rome, a mermaid statue in Copenhagen Denmark, the White Cliffs of Dover in England, the Eiffel Tower in Paris France, el Yunque tropical rain forest in Puerto Rico, Tallinn Estonia, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, a gondola in Venice Italy, the Great Wall of China, the Senate Square Cathedral in Helsinki Finland, highrises in Shanghai China, the Hollywood sign in California, hot strings in Wyoming, a destroyed house after Katrina in New Orleans Louisiana, a King Tut like human Egyptian statue in Paris France, the Last Vegas skyline, the Louvre, Luxembourg, Michael Stipe of R.E.M. in Urbana Illinois, a painted building in Montreal Canada, a lefe-side replica of the Parthenon in Nashville Tennessee, a glove statue in front of a church in Omaha Nebraska, a pagoda near Beijing China, salvages wall art work in Pompeii, the Pyramid of Cestius in Rome, St. Petersburg Russia, San Francisco, the Seasttle Space Needle in Washington, Siberia from the sky, a video still of shydiving near the Rockies in Longmont Colorado, the space shuttle in Cape Canaveral, the Statue of Liberty in New Jersey/New York, a stop sign in Mexico (that says “alto”), Stockholm Sweden, Olympic Natl. Park Temperate Rain Forest in Washington, the Temple of Vesta in Rome, the Vatican, and Zurich Switzerland.

These are the writing included in the live show:

the poem: Paranoia

we sit here at dinner.
I try to breathe.
My hands rest on my thighs.
I must watch to be sure,
everything must be right:
the silverware, small fork,
large fork, plate, knife,
large spoon, small spoon.
Water glass. Wine glass.

I know no one else sees them:
the fish, the red fish, in
the curtains along the wall.
You have to watch them.
My eyes always glance there.

They are evil fish. They sit
in the curtains, they wait,
and then they come out.

And the yogurt, the yogurt
is the only thing that can
save me from them. throw
the yogurt, take a spoon,
use your hands. Anything.

And we sat there before
dinner, and he ate his
yogurt with his first spoon
before I could stop him.

How could you do this? How
can you save yourself now?
Will I have to save you again,
do you even understand
the danger

—

the prose: Man Who Talks Loud… Say Nothing

I try to learn about the world, try to understand the world. While first traveling, I did a MidWest tour of poetry, then was in a Chicago poetry show at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I sell my performance art audio on iTunes & Naster, I try to share myself with the world, but I wonder if I’m actually getting through to anyone.

I heard a Native American man, whose parents were from two different tribes (meaning that he could never truly have an allegiance with just one tribe), say that after he traveled extensively, he tried to tell his story to the people of either tribe, and no one wanted to even listen to him. They called him Ex-eh-ba-che, which means “man who talks loud… say nothing.”

Ex-eh-ba-che.
“Man who talks loud… say nothing.”

Oh, what am I saying, I’ve been around the world, but I’ve never talked to a Native American. That was actually from a movie I saw, I don’t even know if “Ex-eh-ba-che” is a real word or means anything.

But… If I want to see something about the world around me, maybe I should turn on the tee vee, I mean, if news channels can have reporters in war zones, there’s got to be something worth watching. Maybe I’ll just get out the remote and turn on the tee vee, then press the play button and see what’s out there in the world.

—

the poem: Fighting I Can Do

I know these are normal things
for me to be going through

I know that I have been raped
and beaten
I know they’ve tried to kill me
and lucky me, I survived

I think I can survive
everything they throw at me

But as time wears on
little pieces of this statue are chipped away
everybody wants something, right?
well, they’ve been taking from me
and taking
and taking
and taking
and my defenses are getting weaker
and I don’t know how much more
fighting
I can do

—

the poem: I Want

you know what I want?

i want a big house with filtered central air
and i want a big lawn so i can recreate nature

and i want a big fence so i’ll know what’s mine

and i want the evergreens trimmed into neat little
balls, because it has to look neat. plant everything
in a row.

and i want to spray chemicals on my lawn
to keep the dandelions away

and i want a plastic lobster bib
over my fancy dress at the fancy restaurant

and don’t forget the hundred dollar champagne

and i want a big fat car, and i want
someone else to drive it

and i want the two kids, one boy, one girl
and i want a nanny to take care of them for me

i want to be famous
i want everyone to love me

i want it
i want it all

—

the prose: Adjusting Your Beliefs

We lived in Pennsylvania for 6 months, and while I continued my work with cc&d magazine, I got a P.O. box in the town Intercourse Pennsylvania. And actually, it was an amish town, and we would go to the store there to stock up on spices, and the amish people who worked there were all short -

Now, I know I’m tall, but when I say they were short I should also say that their heads looked child-like… that the people working there looked like they had a mild form, or early stages of, downs syndrome. We could only guess by looking at the faces of these people that the Amish had too severe a history of inbreeding, and no one new came into their community.

And recently I was in Champaign to plant a tree, and we stopped at a mall and there was this hydro massage store in the mall - it was this temporary place that had booths set up for individuals to lay down in, and many jets of water pulsated into plastic sheets over the person’s body, it was a massage thing that people could pay for. Now, I had seen things like this before, but I was told I should try this, you know, just splurge, so I was in this thing that looked like a tanning bed for your body with your head sticking out at the end, and John talked to a few girls there, because he noticed how they looked liked they were dressed in near Amish, or Mennonite, clothing. And he found out that these girls were in their late teens, and they came in from out of town on a bus trip; yes, they were Amish, but yes, this was a trip sponsored by their Amish community, and one of the girls said she was on this trip to hopefully find a husband.

And it seems that they were doing this, they were allowing this much technology into the outskirts of their lives, to find someone else to have children with.

Ah, the choices we make. The sacrifices we make to help our lives, or the things we are willing to destroy when faced with insurmountable decisions.

—

the poem: A Retired Policeman Talks About Suicides He’s Seen

As a cop, I remember one lady,
we found her in her bathtub,
she cut her throat. That’s odd,
for women, normally they take pills,
they don’t like to disfigure themselves. But she knew what she was
doing, cutting her throat in a full bath.
Less messy that way. Autopsy said
she was full of barbiturates. She was
a nurse, that explained how she knew
how to do it, but then we found out
that she was pregnant, too. And to top
it off, her brother was a priest.

—

the prose: Technology and Communication (which is prose that has a bit of the poem “Communication ‘05″ in it)

Oh, I’m sorry. I was listening to my iPod.
Oh, wait, let me see, maybe I can hook this up to play the music for you.

You know, I was thinking about it - advancements in technology have been a wonderful thing, and many say it’s brought the world closer together, have kept people more connected. And on some levels I can totally agree with that - I mean, I read submissions from email, saving paper and ink and postage, I keep magazines on line so people around the world can read good writing, I’ve even had musicians from Wisconsin, Ohio and Tennessee find my readings and set music to my words.
But in the same respect, I sit all day at the same desk, staring at the web sites for the domain names I run, instead of actually meeting and working with people.

I mean, at one point, the people i emailed the most
lived in the same city as me, and were only a local call away.
in fact, one of my friends lived a block-and-a-half away from me,
on the same street as me, but
i still emailed her as much as i’d call her,
even though i could just walk over to her house
and have an actual conversation with her.

And even the phone, with cell phones you can carry a phone with you wherever you go, so you’ll never be lonely, but it seems to give teenagers another reason to talk endlessly on the phone… And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to attack someone at a bar, who is there with friends, who gets a walkie-talkie-style call from someone, and they take turns screaming their heads off to get little phrases to someone who couldn’t even be there with them.

I mean, the iPhone just came out, combining a cell phone with an iPod, as well as email and Internet web browsing. But some bits of technology allow you to tune the world out, like the iPod here. When people see these headphones on someone, they know that you’ve apparently found something bigger and better than them for their lives right now… But even without technology, when I go for walks every morning, I wear the iPod, but I also wear sunglasses, even if it’s overcast, so no one knows if I am studying every person I pass. With a lot of the technology we have now, we can learn about the rest of the world - or we can tune out the rest of the world and ignore any news that doesn’t fit in with what we want to believe.

—

the poem: The Carpet Factory, The Shoes

i heard a story today
about a little boy
one of many who was enslaved
by his country
in child labor

in this case
he was working
for a carpet factory

he managed to escape
he told his story
to the world
he was a hero at ten

but the people from the factory
held a grudge
and today i heard
that the little boy
was shot and killed
on the street
he was twelve

and then people complain to me
when i buy shoes
that are made in china

now i have to think
did somebody
have to die for these

will somebody have to die
for these

—

the prose: Differences in China: children & trains

Children in different parts of the world… I saw in China once a little boy outside, a toddler, drop his pants at the street side at a market and just start ing on the sidewalk. And as I saw this, I saw that all the people there weren’t even bothered by this… Someone explained to me that while they’re little, toddler boys in China can go to the bathroom like that outside - but if he goes number 2, the mother has to pick up his feces (you know, like they were taking care of a dog).

But on the trains in China, they had a television screen in every car, with clips from what seemed like “America’s Funniest Home Videos.” Well, I couldn’t understand a thing anyone was saying in China on this show on the train, but you couldn’t help but watch, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was a great means of bringing levity when you’re on a public train, like when you’re on your way to work every morning on the el.

—

the poem: Private Lives 2005

sitting on the el train
i saw a middle-eastern man
sitting across from me
holding a large Zip-Loc bag
of some sort of food paste,
i couldn’t tell,
it looked like some sort of
curry-filled food paste

and the man looked unhappy,
and after a few minutes
i saw him open up
the Zip-Loc bag,
throw up into it,
then close the bag again

so, he was carrying
his vomit with him
on the el

at least he had a bag
he could seal it up with

—

the prose: Passport To Outer Space

And a lot of us have experiences around the city, and I’ve tried to see the world, not just this continent, but 15 European countries, Russia, China…
I’ve searched for these stories around the world, I’ve gotten my passport stamped like mad… but my sister told me about Don Stump, a friend of my dad’s who ran a restaurant, well, his father-in-law apparently bought and had the rights to the space in outer space (you know, like all of the space beyond out atmosphere between planets and stars and comets and asteroids and stuff…). My sister even said that his father-in-law stamped the passports of the astronauts that went into outer space, since they were crossing the areas he owned.
But Don Stump was pushed away from their house once, because at least two men from the FBI were there… Apparently Don’s father-in-law was minting coins, it wasn’t money that was valid anywhere, but it’s illegal for U.S. residents to try to make any sort of profit this way, the way they might have potentially done.
Now, Don and his wife and parents have passed away, so…. I guess there’s no way I can pay them for having my passport stamped for going to outer space. But when you’re up high in the Earth’s atmosphere, a lot of places look the same. I mean, Siberia, with snow peaks and mountain lines along the eastern coast, looks like the Rockies in America in the winter. It’s only when you get closer to the ground do you see the real differences.

—

parts of the poem: In The Air

Chicago looks grand from the sky
with this huge expanse of lake
next to it, like civilization crept up
as far as it could but finally had to stop.
The power of nature stopping the power
of mankind… Daylight, and the snow
on the ground in the winter time looks dirty,
too many cars have splashed mud on it as they
drove by. And in the winter the sky
always matches the shade of grey of the snow:
fitting for the city of the Blues.
Maybe the snow is already
that color, that perfect shade of grey,
when it falls from the sky in this city.

When I’m in the air, I like to look
out the window. Clouds look like
cotton balls when you’re above them,
and when you’re landing cars look like
little ants, on a mission, bringing food
back to their hill. And the
streets look like veins, capillaries in some
massive, monstrous body. And the
farmlands look like little squares of colors.
I wonder why each plot of land is a
different color, what’s growing there
that makes them different. Or maybe it’s
that some of them are turning shades of red
and brown because they are dying.

And it always seems on a plane that you’re stuck
sitting next to someone that is either
too wide for their seat, or is a businessman
with his newspaper stretched out
and his lap top computer on his little
fold out table. Once, when I was on a
flight back from D. C., a flight attendant
walked by, stack of magazines in her
hand, Time, Newsweek, Businessweek,
and I stopped her, asking what magazines
she had. And she replied, “Oh, these
magazines are for men.” This is a true
story. And I asked her again what she
had. I had already read Time, so I took Newsweek.

—

the poem: On An Airplane With A Frequent Flyer

“I was once on a flight to Hawaii and I was waiting in line
for the lavatory. There was always a line for a flight
this long, you know, it seemed the washrooms
were always on demand on a flight this long. So
I finally got into the washroom, you know, and I
looked into the toilet, and someone, well, lost the battle
against a very healthy digestive system and left the
“spoils” in the toilet, stuck. Maybe it didn’t want to go
down into the sewage tank where all the other
waste from this long trip went to. Can you imagine
all the stuff this airplane had to carry across the ocean?
Well, anyway, so I saw this stuck in the toilet, and I
went to the washroom, and when I was done i flushed and
it still wouldn’t budge, and so I opened the door and walked
out into the aisle of the plane again. And there was this
long line of people waiting to use this cramped
little washroom, and I just wanted to tell them all,
‘you know, I didn’t do that.’ And then it occurred to me
that everyone, when they leave the bathroom on that
plane, will think the exact same thing.”

—

and the prose: Around the World, & sweet home Chicago

And you know, I talk about travel around the world, but where we come from shows who we are. I mean, once I was on the other side of the world, at the Summer Palace, and an older man came over to me, knowing little english, and said, “My daughter and I wanted to know where you were from.” So… not knowing how much geography they knew, I said, “I’m from the United States, in Illinois, in Chicago.” And that’s when this old man from the other side of the world said, “oh… my kind of town.” And I started laughing, knowing the song, and then he said, “Frank Sinatra sang that.” and I laughed more, then realizing that although I try to learn about the world, but my soul still hold on to my Chicago roots, other editors even comment on my style of writing being affected by being from the MidWest, being from Chicago… being from here affects my style and my art, oftentimes as much as my family history.
I talk about learning stories from around the world, but I think we can also learn from stories right here, and as we live in this big world, it helps us to not feel small, but to grow larger than life.

—

For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details.

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Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show “Living in a Big World”, live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in Chicago, Illinois). The show contained poems and music from orted musicins from Wisconsin, Ohio, Tennessee, New Mexico, and even Canada, as well as original sampled music, include the writings listed toward the bottom of this show explanation. But in this show, Janet Kuypers, because shw was exemplifying living in a big world (the title of the show), she drew a large chair, painted it onto a white canvas (which actually was a bunch of pieces of 8.5″ x 11″ paper stuck together) and attached it to a wooden base, so she could literally sit in a drawing of a large chair (it was 60″ wide, actually). The visual display of the artwork projected onto a large paper screen for this show (which once again was actually a bunch of pieces of 8.5″ x 11″ paper stuck together)was a drawn TV, and inside the TV a bunch of Janet Kuypers photographs from around the world was shown in this “drawn” TV.

Artwork included in the projected “television” display included:
The Reischtag in Berlin Germany, Tiananmen Square in Beijing China, a building in Agrigento in Cicily Italy, Air Force One with President George H. W. Bush at Pease Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, a downed airplane in Joliet, Illinois, an airplane in Naples Florida, the Arbeit Macht Frei gate at the Dachau Concentration Camp in Dachau Germany, Arches National Park in Utah, Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington Virginia, Bad Gastein Austria, as bamboo frest in Oahu Hawaii, a building in Bruxelles.Belgium, castles in Rome, the Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan with superimposed landmarks like an Egyptian pyramid and a building from India and the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben and Russian churches and a mountain from the Alps, the Colloseum in Rome, a mermaid statue in Copenhagen Denmark, the White Cliffs of Dover in England, the Eiffel Tower in Paris France, el Yunque tropical rain forest in Puerto Rico, Tallinn Estonia, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, a gondola in Venice Italy, the Great Wall of China, the Senate Square Cathedral in Helsinki Finland, highrises in Shanghai China, the Hollywood sign in California, hot strings in Wyoming, a destroyed house after Katrina in New Orleans Louisiana, a King Tut like human Egyptian statue in Paris France, the Last Vegas skyline, the Louvre, Luxembourg, Michael Stipe of R.E.M. in Urbana Illinois, a painted building in Montreal Canada, a lefe-side replica of the Parthenon in Nashville Tennessee, a glove statue in front of a church in Omaha Nebraska, a pagoda near Beijing China, salvages wall art work in Pompeii, the Pyramid of Cestius in Rome, St. Petersburg Russia, San Francisco, the Seasttle Space Needle in Washington, Siberia from the sky, a video still of shydiving near the Rockies in Longmont Colorado, the space shuttle in Cape Canaveral, the Statue of Liberty in New Jersey/New York, a stop sign in Mexico (that says “alto”), Stockholm Sweden, Olympic Natl. Park Temperate Rain Forest in Washington, the Temple of Vesta in Rome, the Vatican, and Zurich Switzerland.

These are the writing included in the live show:

the poem: Paranoia

we sit here at dinner.
I try to breathe.
My hands rest on my thighs.
I must watch to be sure,
everything must be right:
the silverware, small fork,
large fork, plate, knife,
large spoon, small spoon.
Water glass. Wine glass.

I know no one else sees them:
the fish, the red fish, in
the curtains along the wall.
You have to watch them.
My eyes always glance there.

They are evil fish. They sit
in the curtains, they wait,
and then they come out.

And the yogurt, the yogurt
is the only thing that can
save me from them. throw
the yogurt, take a spoon,
use your hands. Anything.

And we sat there before
dinner, and he ate his
yogurt with his first spoon
before I could stop him.

How could you do this? How
can you save yourself now?
Will I have to save you again,
do you even understand
the danger

—

the prose: Man Who Talks Loud… Say Nothing

I try to learn about the world, try to understand the world. While first traveling, I did a MidWest tour of poetry, then was in a Chicago poetry show at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I sell my performance art audio on iTunes & Naster, I try to share myself with the world, but I wonder if I’m actually getting through to anyone.

I heard a Native American man, whose parents were from two different tribes (meaning that he could never truly have an allegiance with just one tribe), say that after he traveled extensively, he tried to tell his story to the people of either tribe, and no one wanted to even listen to him. They called him Ex-eh-ba-che, which means “man who talks loud… say nothing.”

Ex-eh-ba-che.
“Man who talks loud… say nothing.”

Oh, what am I saying, I’ve been around the world, but I’ve never talked to a Native American. That was actually from a movie I saw, I don’t even know if “Ex-eh-ba-che” is a real word or means anything.

But… If I want to see something about the world around me, maybe I should turn on the tee vee, I mean, if news channels can have reporters in war zones, there’s got to be something worth watching. Maybe I’ll just get out the remote and turn on the tee vee, then press the play button and see what’s out there in the world.

—

the poem: Fighting I Can Do

I know these are normal things
for me to be going through

I know that I have been raped
and beaten
I know they’ve tried to kill me
and lucky me, I survived

I think I can survive
everything they throw at me

But as time wears on
little pieces of this statue are chipped away
everybody wants something, right?
well, they’ve been taking from me
and taking
and taking
and taking
and my defenses are getting weaker
and I don’t know how much more
fighting
I can do

—

the poem: I Want

you know what I want?

i want a big house with filtered central air
and i want a big lawn so i can recreate nature

and i want a big fence so i’ll know what’s mine

and i want the evergreens trimmed into neat little
balls, because it has to look neat. plant everything
in a row.

and i want to spray chemicals on my lawn
to keep the dandelions away

and i want a plastic lobster bib
over my fancy dress at the fancy restaurant

and don’t forget the hundred dollar champagne

and i want a big fat car, and i want
someone else to drive it

and i want the two kids, one boy, one girl
and i want a nanny to take care of them for me

i want to be famous
i want everyone to love me

i want it
i want it all

—

the prose: Adjusting Your Beliefs

We lived in Pennsylvania for 6 months, and while I continued my work with cc&d magazine, I got a P.O. box in the town Intercourse Pennsylvania. And actually, it was an amish town, and we would go to the store there to stock up on spices, and the amish people who worked there were all short -

Now, I know I’m tall, but when I say they were short I should also say that their heads looked child-like… that the people working there looked like they had a mild form, or early stages of, downs syndrome. We could only guess by looking at the faces of these people that the Amish had too severe a history of inbreeding, and no one new came into their community.

And recently I was in Champaign to plant a tree, and we stopped at a mall and there was this hydro massage store in the mall - it was this temporary place that had booths set up for individuals to lay down in, and many jets of water pulsated into plastic sheets over the person’s body, it was a massage thing that people could pay for. Now, I had seen things like this before, but I was told I should try this, you know, just splurge, so I was in this thing that looked like a tanning bed for your body with your head sticking out at the end, and John talked to a few girls there, because he noticed how they looked liked they were dressed in near Amish, or Mennonite, clothing. And he found out that these girls were in their late teens, and they came in from out of town on a bus trip; yes, they were Amish, but yes, this was a trip sponsored by their Amish community, and one of the girls said she was on this trip to hopefully find a husband.

And it seems that they were doing this, they were allowing this much technology into the outskirts of their lives, to find someone else to have children with.

Ah, the choices we make. The sacrifices we make to help our lives, or the things we are willing to destroy when faced with insurmountable decisions.

—

the poem: A Retired Policeman Talks About Suicides He’s Seen

As a cop, I remember one lady,
we found her in her bathtub,
she cut her throat. That’s odd,
for women, normally they take pills,
they don’t like to disfigure themselves. But she knew what she was
doing, cutting her throat in a full bath.
Less messy that way. Autopsy said
she was full of barbiturates. She was
a nurse, that explained how she knew
how to do it, but then we found out
that she was pregnant, too. And to top
it off, her brother was a priest.

—

the prose: Technology and Communication (which is prose that has a bit of the poem “Communication ‘05″ in it)

Oh, I’m sorry. I was listening to my iPod.
Oh, wait, let me see, maybe I can hook this up to play the music for you.

You know, I was thinking about it - advancements in technology have been a wonderful thing, and many say it’s brought the world closer together, have kept people more connected. And on some levels I can totally agree with that - I mean, I read submissions from email, saving paper and ink and postage, I keep magazines on line so people around the world can read good writing, I’ve even had musicians from Wisconsin, Ohio and Tennessee find my readings and set music to my words.
But in the same respect, I sit all day at the same desk, staring at the web sites for the domain names I run, instead of actually meeting and working with people.

I mean, at one point, the people i emailed the most
lived in the same city as me, and were only a local call away.
in fact, one of my friends lived a block-and-a-half away from me,
on the same street as me, but
i still emailed her as much as i’d call her,
even though i could just walk over to her house
and have an actual conversation with her.

And even the phone, with cell phones you can carry a phone with you wherever you go, so you’ll never be lonely, but it seems to give teenagers another reason to talk endlessly on the phone… And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to attack someone at a bar, who is there with friends, who gets a walkie-talkie-style call from someone, and they take turns screaming their heads off to get little phrases to someone who couldn’t even be there with them.

I mean, the iPhone just came out, combining a cell phone with an iPod, as well as email and Internet web browsing. But some bits of technology allow you to tune the world out, like the iPod here. When people see these headphones on someone, they know that you’ve apparently found something bigger and better than them for their lives right now… But even without technology, when I go for walks every morning, I wear the iPod, but I also wear sunglasses, even if it’s overcast, so no one knows if I am studying every person I pass. With a lot of the technology we have now, we can learn about the rest of the world - or we can tune out the rest of the world and ignore any news that doesn’t fit in with what we want to believe.

—

the poem: The Carpet Factory, The Shoes

i heard a story today
about a little boy
one of many who was enslaved
by his country
in child labor

in this case
he was working
for a carpet factory

he managed to escape
he told his story
to the world
he was a hero at ten

but the people from the factory
held a grudge
and today i heard
that the little boy
was shot and killed
on the street
he was twelve

and then people complain to me
when i buy shoes
that are made in china

now i have to think
did somebody
have to die for these

will somebody have to die
for these

—

the prose: Differences in China: children & trains

Children in different parts of the world… I saw in China once a little boy outside, a toddler, drop his pants at the street side at a market and just start ing on the sidewalk. And as I saw this, I saw that all the people there weren’t even bothered by this… Someone explained to me that while they’re little, toddler boys in China can go to the bathroom like that outside - but if he goes number 2, the mother has to pick up his feces (you know, like they were taking care of a dog).

But on the trains in China, they had a television screen in every car, with clips from what seemed like “America’s Funniest Home Videos.” Well, I couldn’t understand a thing anyone was saying in China on this show on the train, but you couldn’t help but watch, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was a great means of bringing levity when you’re on a public train, like when you’re on your way to work every morning on the el.

—

the poem: Private Lives 2005

sitting on the el train
i saw a middle-eastern man
sitting across from me
holding a large Zip-Loc bag
of some sort of food paste,
i couldn’t tell,
it looked like some sort of
curry-filled food paste

and the man looked unhappy,
and after a few minutes
i saw him open up
the Zip-Loc bag,
throw up into it,
then close the bag again

so, he was carrying
his vomit with him
on the el

at least he had a bag
he could seal it up with

—

the prose: Passport To Outer Space

And a lot of us have experiences around the city, and I’ve tried to see the world, not just this continent, but 15 European countries, Russia, China…
I’ve searched for these stories around the world, I’ve gotten my passport stamped like mad… but my sister told me about Don Stump, a friend of my dad’s who ran a restaurant, well, his father-in-law apparently bought and had the rights to the space in outer space (you know, like all of the space beyond out atmosphere between planets and stars and comets and asteroids and stuff…). My sister even said that his father-in-law stamped the passports of the astronauts that went into outer space, since they were crossing the areas he owned.
But Don Stump was pushed away from their house once, because at least two men from the FBI were there… Apparently Don’s father-in-law was minting coins, it wasn’t money that was valid anywhere, but it’s illegal for U.S. residents to try to make any sort of profit this way, the way they might have potentially done.
Now, Don and his wife and parents have passed away, so…. I guess there’s no way I can pay them for having my passport stamped for going to outer space. But when you’re up high in the Earth’s atmosphere, a lot of places look the same. I mean, Siberia, with snow peaks and mountain lines along the eastern coast, looks like the Rockies in America in the winter. It’s only when you get closer to the ground do you see the real differences.

—

parts of the poem: In The Air

Chicago looks grand from the sky
with this huge expanse of lake
next to it, like civilization crept up
as far as it could but finally had to stop.
The power of nature stopping the power
of mankind… Daylight, and the snow
on the ground in the winter time looks dirty,
too many cars have splashed mud on it as they
drove by. And in the winter the sky
always matches the shade of grey of the snow:
fitting for the city of the Blues.
Maybe the snow is already
that color, that perfect shade of grey,
when it falls from the sky in this city.

When I’m in the air, I like to look
out the window. Clouds look like
cotton balls when you’re above them,
and when you’re landing cars look like
little ants, on a mission, bringing food
back to their hill. And the
streets look like veins, capillaries in some
massive, monstrous body. And the
farmlands look like little squares of colors.
I wonder why each plot of land is a
different color, what’s growing there
that makes them different. Or maybe it’s
that some of them are turning shades of red
and brown because they are dying.

And it always seems on a plane that you’re stuck
sitting next to someone that is either
too wide for their seat, or is a businessman
with his newspaper stretched out
and his lap top computer on his little
fold out table. Once, when I was on a
flight back from D. C., a flight attendant
walked by, stack of magazines in her
hand, Time, Newsweek, Businessweek,
and I stopped her, asking what magazines
she had. And she replied, “Oh, these
magazines are for men.” This is a true
story. And I asked her again what she
had. I had already read Time, so I took Newsweek.

—

the poem: On An Airplane With A Frequent Flyer

“I was once on a flight to Hawaii and I was waiting in line
for the lavatory. There was always a line for a flight
this long, you know, it seemed the washrooms
were always on demand on a flight this long. So
I finally got into the washroom, you know, and I
looked into the toilet, and someone, well, lost the battle
against a very healthy digestive system and left the
“spoils” in the toilet, stuck. Maybe it didn’t want to go
down into the sewage tank where all the other
waste from this long trip went to. Can you imagine
all the stuff this airplane had to carry across the ocean?
Well, anyway, so I saw this stuck in the toilet, and I
went to the washroom, and when I was done i flushed and
it still wouldn’t budge, and so I opened the door and walked
out into the aisle of the plane again. And there was this
long line of people waiting to use this cramped
little washroom, and I just wanted to tell them all,
‘you know, I didn’t do that.’ And then it occurred to me
that everyone, when they leave the bathroom on that
plane, will think the exact same thing.”

—

and the prose: Around the World, & sweet home Chicago

And you know, I talk about travel around the world, but where we come from shows who we are. I mean, once I was on the other side of the world, at the Summer Palace, and an older man came over to me, knowing little english, and said, “My daughter and I wanted to know where you were from.” So… not knowing how much geography they knew, I said, “I’m from the United States, in Illinois, in Chicago.” And that’s when this old man from the other side of the world said, “oh… my kind of town.” And I started laughing, knowing the song, and then he said, “Frank Sinatra sang that.” and I laughed more, then realizing that although I try to learn about the world, but my soul still hold on to my Chicago roots, other editors even comment on my style of writing being affected by being from the MidWest, being from Chicago… being from here affects my style and my art, oftentimes as much as my family history.
I talk about learning stories from around the world, but I think we can also learn from stories right here, and as we live in this big world, it helps us to not feel small, but to grow larger than life.

—

For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details.

Duration : 0:1:59

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Technorati Tags: 17, 2004, art, big, chair, dreams, Janet, July, Kuypers, living, monitor, performance, poem, poetry, prose, reading, show, tv, video, World

Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show “Living in a Big World”, live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in Chicago, Illinois). The show contained poems and music from orted musicins from Wisconsin, Ohio, Tennessee, New Mexico, and even Canada, as well as original sampled music, include the writings listed toward the bottom of this show explanation. But in this show, Janet Kuypers, because shw was exemplifying living in a big world (the title of the show), she drew a large chair, painted it onto a white canvas (which actually was a bunch of pieces of 8.5″ x 11″ paper stuck together) and attached it to a wooden base, so she could literally sit in a drawing of a large chair (it was 60″ wide, actually). The visual display of the artwork projected onto a large paper screen for this show (which once again was actually a bunch of pieces of 8.5″ x 11″ paper stuck together)was a drawn TV, and inside the TV a bunch of Janet Kuypers photographs from around the world was shown in this “drawn” TV.

Artwork included in the projected “television” display included:
The Reischtag in Berlin Germany, Tiananmen Square in Beijing China, a building in Agrigento in Cicily Italy, Air Force One with President George H. W. Bush at Pease Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, a downed airplane in Joliet, Illinois, an airplane in Naples Florida, the Arbeit Macht Frei gate at the Dachau Concentration Camp in Dachau Germany, Arches National Park in Utah, Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington Virginia, Bad Gastein Austria, as bamboo frest in Oahu Hawaii, a building in Bruxelles.Belgium, castles in Rome, the Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan with superimposed landmarks like an Egyptian pyramid and a building from India and the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben and Russian churches and a mountain from the Alps, the Colloseum in Rome, a mermaid statue in Copenhagen Denmark, the White Cliffs of Dover in England, the Eiffel Tower in Paris France, el Yunque tropical rain forest in Puerto Rico, Tallinn Estonia, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, a gondola in Venice Italy, the Great Wall of China, the Senate Square Cathedral in Helsinki Finland, highrises in Shanghai China, the Hollywood sign in California, hot strings in Wyoming, a destroyed house after Katrina in New Orleans Louisiana, a King Tut like human Egyptian statue in Paris France, the Last Vegas skyline, the Louvre, Luxembourg, Michael Stipe of R.E.M. in Urbana Illinois, a painted building in Montreal Canada, a lefe-side replica of the Parthenon in Nashville Tennessee, a glove statue in front of a church in Omaha Nebraska, a pagoda near Beijing China, salvages wall art work in Pompeii, the Pyramid of Cestius in Rome, St. Petersburg Russia, San Francisco, the Seasttle Space Needle in Washington, Siberia from the sky, a video still of shydiving near the Rockies in Longmont Colorado, the space shuttle in Cape Canaveral, the Statue of Liberty in New Jersey/New York, a stop sign in Mexico (that says “alto”), Stockholm Sweden, Olympic Natl. Park Temperate Rain Forest in Washington, the Temple of Vesta in Rome, the Vatican, and Zurich Switzerland.

These are the writing included in the live show:

the poem: Paranoia

we sit here at dinner.
I try to breathe.
My hands rest on my thighs.
I must watch to be sure,
everything must be right:
the silverware, small fork,
large fork, plate, knife,
large spoon, small spoon.
Water glass. Wine glass.

I know no one else sees them:
the fish, the red fish, in
the curtains along the wall.
You have to watch them.
My eyes always glance there.

They are evil fish. They sit
in the curtains, they wait,
and then they come out.

And the yogurt, the yogurt
is the only thing that can
save me from them. throw
the yogurt, take a spoon,
use your hands. Anything.

And we sat there before
dinner, and he ate his
yogurt with his first spoon
before I could stop him.

How could you do this? How
can you save yourself now?
Will I have to save you again,
do you even understand
the danger

—

the prose: Man Who Talks Loud… Say Nothing

I try to learn about the world, try to understand the world. While first traveling, I did a MidWest tour of poetry, then was in a Chicago poetry show at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I sell my performance art audio on iTunes & Naster, I try to share myself with the world, but I wonder if I’m actually getting through to anyone.

I heard a Native American man, whose parents were from two different tribes (meaning that he could never truly have an allegiance with just one tribe), say that after he traveled extensively, he tried to tell his story to the people of either tribe, and no one wanted to even listen to him. They called him Ex-eh-ba-che, which means “man who talks loud… say nothing.”

Ex-eh-ba-che.
“Man who talks loud… say nothing.”

Oh, what am I saying, I’ve been around the world, but I’ve never talked to a Native American. That was actually from a movie I saw, I don’t even know if “Ex-eh-ba-che” is a real word or means anything.

But… If I want to see something about the world around me, maybe I should turn on the tee vee, I mean, if news channels can have reporters in war zones, there’s got to be something worth watching. Maybe I’ll just get out the remote and turn on the tee vee, then press the play button and see what’s out there in the world.

—

the poem: Fighting I Can Do

I know these are normal things
for me to be going through

I know that I have been raped
and beaten
I know they’ve tried to kill me
and lucky me, I survived

I think I can survive
everything they throw at me

But as time wears on
little pieces of this statue are chipped away
everybody wants something, right?
well, they’ve been taking from me
and taking
and taking
and taking
and my defenses are getting weaker
and I don’t know how much more
fighting
I can do

—

the poem: I Want

you know what I want?

i want a big house with filtered central air
and i want a big lawn so i can recreate nature

and i want a big fence so i’ll know what’s mine

and i want the evergreens trimmed into neat little
balls, because it has to look neat. plant everything
in a row.

and i want to spray chemicals on my lawn
to keep the dandelions away

and i want a plastic lobster bib
over my fancy dress at the fancy restaurant

and don’t forget the hundred dollar champagne

and i want a big fat car, and i want
someone else to drive it

and i want the two kids, one boy, one girl
and i want a nanny to take care of them for me

i want to be famous
i want everyone to love me

i want it
i want it all

—

the prose: Adjusting Your Beliefs

We lived in Pennsylvania for 6 months, and while I continued my work with cc&d magazine, I got a P.O. box in the town Intercourse Pennsylvania. And actually, it was an amish town, and we would go to the store there to stock up on spices, and the amish people who worked there were all short -

Now, I know I’m tall, but when I say they were short I should also say that their heads looked child-like… that the people working there looked like they had a mild form, or early stages of, downs syndrome. We could only guess by looking at the faces of these people that the Amish had too severe a history of inbreeding, and no one new came into their community.

And recently I was in Champaign to plant a tree, and we stopped at a mall and there was this hydro massage store in the mall - it was this temporary place that had booths set up for individuals to lay down in, and many jets of water pulsated into plastic sheets over the person’s body, it was a massage thing that people could pay for. Now, I had seen things like this before, but I was told I should try this, you know, just splurge, so I was in this thing that looked like a tanning bed for your body with your head sticking out at the end, and John talked to a few girls there, because he noticed how they looked liked they were dressed in near Amish, or Mennonite, clothing. And he found out that these girls were in their late teens, and they came in from out of town on a bus trip; yes, they were Amish, but yes, this was a trip sponsored by their Amish community, and one of the girls said she was on this trip to hopefully find a husband.

And it seems that they were doing this, they were allowing this much technology into the outskirts of their lives, to find someone else to have children with.

Ah, the choices we make. The sacrifices we make to help our lives, or the things we are willing to destroy when faced with insurmountable decisions.

—

the poem: A Retired Policeman Talks About Suicides He’s Seen

As a cop, I remember one lady,
we found her in her bathtub,
she cut her throat. That’s odd,
for women, normally they take pills,
they don’t like to disfigure themselves. But she knew what she was
doing, cutting her throat in a full bath.
Less messy that way. Autopsy said
she was full of barbiturates. She was
a nurse, that explained how she knew
how to do it, but then we found out
that she was pregnant, too. And to top
it off, her brother was a priest.

—

the prose: Technology and Communication (which is prose that has a bit of the poem “Communication ‘05″ in it)

Oh, I’m sorry. I was listening to my iPod.
Oh, wait, let me see, maybe I can hook this up to play the music for you.

You know, I was thinking about it - advancements in technology have been a wonderful thing, and many say it’s brought the world closer together, have kept people more connected. And on some levels I can totally agree with that - I mean, I read submissions from email, saving paper and ink and postage, I keep magazines on line so people around the world can read good writing, I’ve even had musicians from Wisconsin, Ohio and Tennessee find my readings and set music to my words.
But in the same respect, I sit all day at the same desk, staring at the web sites for the domain names I run, instead of actually meeting and working with people.

I mean, at one point, the people i emailed the most
lived in the same city as me, and were only a local call away.
in fact, one of my friends lived a block-and-a-half away from me,
on the same street as me, but
i still emailed her as much as i’d call her,
even though i could just walk over to her house
and have an actual conversation with her.

And even the phone, with cell phones you can carry a phone with you wherever you go, so you’ll never be lonely, but it seems to give teenagers another reason to talk endlessly on the phone… And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to attack someone at a bar, who is there with friends, who gets a walkie-talkie-style call from someone, and they take turns screaming their heads off to get little phrases to someone who couldn’t even be there with them.

I mean, the iPhone just came out, combining a cell phone with an iPod, as well as email and Internet web browsing. But some bits of technology allow you to tune the world out, like the iPod here. When people see these headphones on someone, they know that you’ve apparently found something bigger and better than them for their lives right now… But even without technology, when I go for walks every morning, I wear the iPod, but I also wear sunglasses, even if it’s overcast, so no one knows if I am studying every person I pass. With a lot of the technology we have now, we can learn about the rest of the world - or we can tune out the rest of the world and ignore any news that doesn’t fit in with what we want to believe.

—

the poem: The Carpet Factory, The Shoes

i heard a story today
about a little boy
one of many who was enslaved
by his country
in child labor

in this case
he was working
for a carpet factory

he managed to escape
he told his story
to the world
he was a hero at ten

but the people from the factory
held a grudge
and today i heard
that the little boy
was shot and killed
on the street
he was twelve

and then people complain to me
when i buy shoes
that are made in china

now i have to think
did somebody
have to die for these

will somebody have to die
for these

—

the prose: Differences in China: children & trains

Children in different parts of the world… I saw in China once a little boy outside, a toddler, drop his pants at the street side at a market and just start ing on the sidewalk. And as I saw this, I saw that all the people there weren’t even bothered by this… Someone explained to me that while they’re little, toddler boys in China can go to the bathroom like that outside - but if he goes number 2, the mother has to pick up his feces (you know, like they were taking care of a dog).

But on the trains in China, they had a television screen in every car, with clips from what seemed like “America’s Funniest Home Videos.” Well, I couldn’t understand a thing anyone was saying in China on this show on the train, but you couldn’t help but watch, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was a great means of bringing levity when you’re on a public train, like when you’re on your way to work every morning on the el.

—

the poem: Private Lives 2005

sitting on the el train
i saw a middle-eastern man
sitting across from me
holding a large Zip-Loc bag
of some sort of food paste,
i couldn’t tell,
it looked like some sort of
curry-filled food paste

and the man looked unhappy,
and after a few minutes
i saw him open up
the Zip-Loc bag,
throw up into it,
then close the bag again

so, he was carrying
his vomit with him
on the el

at least he had a bag
he could seal it up with

—

the prose: Passport To Outer Space

And a lot of us have experiences around the city, and I’ve tried to see the world, not just this continent, but 15 European countries, Russia, China…
I’ve searched for these stories around the world, I’ve gotten my passport stamped like mad… but my sister told me about Don Stump, a friend of my dad’s who ran a restaurant, well, his father-in-law apparently bought and had the rights to the space in outer space (you know, like all of the space beyond out atmosphere between planets and stars and comets and asteroids and stuff…). My sister even said that his father-in-law stamped the passports of the astronauts that went into outer space, since they were crossing the areas he owned.
But Don Stump was pushed away from their house once, because at least two men from the FBI were there… Apparently Don’s father-in-law was minting coins, it wasn’t money that was valid anywhere, but it’s illegal for U.S. residents to try to make any sort of profit this way, the way they might have potentially done.
Now, Don and his wife and parents have passed away, so…. I guess there’s no way I can pay them for having my passport stamped for going to outer space. But when you’re up high in the Earth’s atmosphere, a lot of places look the same. I mean, Siberia, with snow peaks and mountain lines along the eastern coast, looks like the Rockies in America in the winter. It’s only when you get closer to the ground do you see the real differences.

—

parts of the poem: In The Air

Chicago looks grand from the sky
with this huge expanse of lake
next to it, like civilization crept up
as far as it could but finally had to stop.
The power of nature stopping the power
of mankind… Daylight, and the snow
on the ground in the winter time looks dirty,
too many cars have splashed mud on it as they
drove by. And in the winter the sky
always matches the shade of grey of the snow:
fitting for the city of the Blues.
Maybe the snow is already
that color, that perfect shade of grey,
when it falls from the sky in this city.

When I’m in the air, I like to look
out the window. Clouds look like
cotton balls when you’re above them,
and when you’re landing cars look like
little ants, on a mission, bringing food
back to their hill. And the
streets look like veins, capillaries in some
massive, monstrous body. And the
farmlands look like little squares of colors.
I wonder why each plot of land is a
different color, what’s growing there
that makes them different. Or maybe it’s
that some of them are turning shades of red
and brown because they are dying.

And it always seems on a plane that you’re stuck
sitting next to someone that is either
too wide for their seat, or is a businessman
with his newspaper stretched out
and his lap top computer on his little
fold out table. Once, when I was on a
flight back from D. C., a flight attendant
walked by, stack of magazines in her
hand, Time, Newsweek, Businessweek,
and I stopped her, asking what magazines
she had. And she replied, “Oh, these
magazines are for men.” This is a true
story. And I asked her again what she
had. I had already read Time, so I took Newsweek.

—

the poem: On An Airplane With A Frequent Flyer

“I was once on a flight to Hawaii and I was waiting in line
for the lavatory. There was always a line for a flight
this long, you know, it seemed the washrooms
were always on demand on a flight this long. So
I finally got into the washroom, you know, and I
looked into the toilet, and someone, well, lost the battle
against a very healthy digestive system and left the
“spoils” in the toilet, stuck. Maybe it didn’t want to go
down into the sewage tank where all the other
waste from this long trip went to. Can you imagine
all the stuff this airplane had to carry across the ocean?
Well, anyway, so I saw this stuck in the toilet, and I
went to the washroom, and when I was done i flushed and
it still wouldn’t budge, and so I opened the door and walked
out into the aisle of the plane again. And there was this
long line of people waiting to use this cramped
little washroom, and I just wanted to tell them all,
‘you know, I didn’t do that.’ And then it occurred to me
that everyone, when they leave the bathroom on that
plane, will think the exact same thing.”

—

and the prose: Around the World, & sweet home Chicago

And you know, I talk about travel around the world, but where we come from shows who we are. I mean, once I was on the other side of the world, at the Summer Palace, and an older man came over to me, knowing little english, and said, “My daughter and I wanted to know where you were from.” So… not knowing how much geography they knew, I said, “I’m from the United States, in Illinois, in Chicago.” And that’s when this old man from the other side of the world said, “oh… my kind of town.” And I started laughing, knowing the song, and then he said, “Frank Sinatra sang that.” and I laughed more, then realizing that although I try to learn about the world, but my soul still hold on to my Chicago roots, other editors even comment on my style of writing being affected by being from the MidWest, being from Chicago… being from here affects my style and my art, oftentimes as much as my family history.
I talk about learning stories from around the world, but I think we can also learn from stories right here, and as we live in this big world, it helps us to not feel small, but to grow larger than life.

—

For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details.

Duration : 0:1:54

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Technorati Tags: 17, 2004, art, big, chair, dreams, Janet, July, Kuypers, living, monitor, performance, poem, poetry, prose, reading, show, tv, video, World

Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show “Living in a Big World”, live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in Chicago, Illinois). The show contained poems and music from orted musicins from Wisconsin, Ohio, Tennessee, New Mexico, and even Canada, as well as original sampled music, include the writings listed toward the bottom of this show explanation. But in this show, Janet Kuypers, because shw was exemplifying living in a big world (the title of the show), she drew a large chair, painted it onto a white canvas (which actually was a bunch of pieces of 8.5″ x 11″ paper stuck together) and attached it to a wooden base, so she could literally sit in a drawing of a large chair (it was 60″ wide, actually). The visual display of the artwork projected onto a large paper screen for this show (which once again was actually a bunch of pieces of 8.5″ x 11″ paper stuck together)was a drawn TV, and inside the TV a bunch of Janet Kuypers photographs from around the world was shown in this “drawn” TV.

Artwork included in the projected “television” display included:
The Reischtag in Berlin Germany, Tiananmen Square in Beijing China, a building in Agrigento in Cicily Italy, Air Force One with President George H. W. Bush at Pease Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, a downed airplane in Joliet, Illinois, an airplane in Naples Florida, the Arbeit Macht Frei gate at the Dachau Concentration Camp in Dachau Germany, Arches National Park in Utah, Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington Virginia, Bad Gastein Austria, as bamboo frest in Oahu Hawaii, a building in Bruxelles.Belgium, castles in Rome, the Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan with superimposed landmarks like an Egyptian pyramid and a building from India and the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben and Russian churches and a mountain from the Alps, the Colloseum in Rome, a mermaid statue in Copenhagen Denmark, the White Cliffs of Dover in England, the Eiffel Tower in Paris France, el Yunque tropical rain forest in Puerto Rico, Tallinn Estonia, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, a gondola in Venice Italy, the Great Wall of China, the Senate Square Cathedral in Helsinki Finland, highrises in Shanghai China, the Hollywood sign in California, hot strings in Wyoming, a destroyed house after Katrina in New Orleans Louisiana, a King Tut like human Egyptian statue in Paris France, the Last Vegas skyline, the Louvre, Luxembourg, Michael Stipe of R.E.M. in Urbana Illinois, a painted building in Montreal Canada, a lefe-side replica of the Parthenon in Nashville Tennessee, a glove statue in front of a church in Omaha Nebraska, a pagoda near Beijing China, salvages wall art work in Pompeii, the Pyramid of Cestius in Rome, St. Petersburg Russia, San Francisco, the Seasttle Space Needle in Washington, Siberia from the sky, a video still of shydiving near the Rockies in Longmont Colorado, the space shuttle in Cape Canaveral, the Statue of Liberty in New Jersey/New York, a stop sign in Mexico (that says “alto”), Stockholm Sweden, Olympic Natl. Park Temperate Rain Forest in Washington, the Temple of Vesta in Rome, the Vatican, and Zurich Switzerland.

These are the writing included in the live show:

the poem: Paranoia

we sit here at dinner.
I try to breathe.
My hands rest on my thighs.
I must watch to be sure,
everything must be right:
the silverware, small fork,
large fork, plate, knife,
large spoon, small spoon.
Water glass. Wine glass.

I know no one else sees them:
the fish, the red fish, in
the curtains along the wall.
You have to watch them.
My eyes always glance there.

They are evil fish. They sit
in the curtains, they wait,
and then they come out.

And the yogurt, the yogurt
is the only thing that can
save me from them. throw
the yogurt, take a spoon,
use your hands. Anything.

And we sat there before
dinner, and he ate his
yogurt with his first spoon
before I could stop him.

How could you do this? How
can you save yourself now?
Will I have to save you again,
do you even understand
the danger

—

the prose: Man Who Talks Loud… Say Nothing

I try to learn about the world, try to understand the world. While first traveling, I did a MidWest tour of poetry, then was in a Chicago poetry show at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I sell my performance art audio on iTunes & Naster, I try to share myself with the world, but I wonder if I’m actually getting through to anyone.

I heard a Native American man, whose parents were from two different tribes (meaning that he could never truly have an allegiance with just one tribe), say that after he traveled extensively, he tried to tell his story to the people of either tribe, and no one wanted to even listen to him. They called him Ex-eh-ba-che, which means “man who talks loud… say nothing.”

Ex-eh-ba-che.
“Man who talks loud… say nothing.”

Oh, what am I saying, I’ve been around the world, but I’ve never talked to a Native American. That was actually from a movie I saw, I don’t even know if “Ex-eh-ba-che” is a real word or means anything.

But… If I want to see something about the world around me, maybe I should turn on the tee vee, I mean, if news channels can have reporters in war zones, there’s got to be something worth watching. Maybe I’ll just get out the remote and turn on the tee vee, then press the play button and see what’s out there in the world.

—

the poem: Fighting I Can Do

I know these are normal things
for me to be going through

I know that I have been raped
and beaten
I know they’ve tried to kill me
and lucky me, I survived

I think I can survive
everything they throw at me

But as time wears on
little pieces of this statue are chipped away
everybody wants something, right?
well, they’ve been taking from me
and taking
and taking
and taking
and my defenses are getting weaker
and I don’t know how much more
fighting
I can do

—

the poem: I Want

you know what I want?

i want a big house with filtered central air
and i want a big lawn so i can recreate nature

and i want a big fence so i’ll know what’s mine

and i want the evergreens trimmed into neat little
balls, because it has to look neat. plant everything
in a row.

and i want to spray chemicals on my lawn
to keep the dandelions away

and i want a plastic lobster bib
over my fancy dress at the fancy restaurant

and don’t forget the hundred dollar champagne

and i want a big fat car, and i want
someone else to drive it

and i want the two kids, one boy, one girl
and i want a nanny to take care of them for me

i want to be famous
i want everyone to love me

i want it
i want it all

—

the prose: Adjusting Your Beliefs

We lived in Pennsylvania for 6 months, and while I continued my work with cc&d magazine, I got a P.O. box in the town Intercourse Pennsylvania. And actually, it was an amish town, and we would go to the store there to stock up on spices, and the amish people who worked there were all short -

Now, I know I’m tall, but when I say they were short I should also say that their heads looked child-like… that the people working there looked like they had a mild form, or early stages of, downs syndrome. We could only guess by looking at the faces of these people that the Amish had too severe a history of inbreeding, and no one new came into their community.

And recently I was in Champaign to plant a tree, and we stopped at a mall and there was this hydro massage store in the mall - it was this temporary place that had booths set up for individuals to lay down in, and many jets of water pulsated into plastic sheets over the person’s body, it was a massage thing that people could pay for. Now, I had seen things like this before, but I was told I should try this, you know, just splurge, so I was in this thing that looked like a tanning bed for your body with your head sticking out at the end, and John talked to a few girls there, because he noticed how they looked liked they were dressed in near Amish, or Mennonite, clothing. And he found out that these girls were in their late teens, and they came in from out of town on a bus trip; yes, they were Amish, but yes, this was a trip sponsored by their Amish community, and one of the girls said she was on this trip to hopefully find a husband.

And it seems that they were doing this, they were allowing this much technology into the outskirts of their lives, to find someone else to have children with.

Ah, the choices we make. The sacrifices we make to help our lives, or the things we are willing to destroy when faced with insurmountable decisions.

—

the poem: A Retired Policeman Talks About Suicides He’s Seen

As a cop, I remember one lady,
we found her in her bathtub,
she cut her throat. That’s odd,
for women, normally they take pills,
they don’t like to disfigure themselves. But she knew what she was
doing, cutting her throat in a full bath.
Less messy that way. Autopsy said
she was full of barbiturates. She was
a nurse, that explained how she knew
how to do it, but then we found out
that she was pregnant, too. And to top
it off, her brother was a priest.

—

the prose: Technology and Communication (which is prose that has a bit of the poem “Communication ‘05″ in it)

Oh, I’m sorry. I was listening to my iPod.
Oh, wait, let me see, maybe I can hook this up to play the music for you.

You know, I was thinking about it - advancements in technology have been a wonderful thing, and many say it’s brought the world closer together, have kept people more connected. And on some levels I can totally agree with that - I mean, I read submissions from email, saving paper and ink and postage, I keep magazines on line so people around the world can read good writing, I’ve even had musicians from Wisconsin, Ohio and Tennessee find my readings and set music to my words.
But in the same respect, I sit all day at the same desk, staring at the web sites for the domain names I run, instead of actually meeting and working with people.

I mean, at one point, the people i emailed the most
lived in the same city as me, and were only a local call away.
in fact, one of my friends lived a block-and-a-half away from me,
on the same street as me, but
i still emailed her as much as i’d call her,
even though i could just walk over to her house
and have an actual conversation with her.

And even the phone, with cell phones you can carry a phone with you wherever you go, so you’ll never be lonely, but it seems to give teenagers another reason to talk endlessly on the phone… And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to attack someone at a bar, who is there with friends, who gets a walkie-talkie-style call from someone, and they take turns screaming their heads off to get little phrases to someone who couldn’t even be there with them.

I mean, the iPhone just came out, combining a cell phone with an iPod, as well as email and Internet web browsing. But some bits of technology allow you to tune the world out, like the iPod here. When people see these headphones on someone, they know that you’ve apparently found something bigger and better than them for their lives right now… But even without technology, when I go for walks every morning, I wear the iPod, but I also wear sunglasses, even if it’s overcast, so no one knows if I am studying every person I pass. With a lot of the technology we have now, we can learn about the rest of the world - or we can tune out the rest of the world and ignore any news that doesn’t fit in with what we want to believe.

—

the poem: The Carpet Factory, The Shoes

i heard a story today
about a little boy
one of many who was enslaved
by his country
in child labor

in this case
he was working
for a carpet factory

he managed to escape
he told his story
to the world
he was a hero at ten

but the people from the factory
held a grudge
and today i heard
that the little boy
was shot and killed
on the street
he was twelve

and then people complain to me
when i buy shoes
that are made in china

now i have to think
did somebody
have to die for these

will somebody have to die
for these

—

the prose: Differences in China: children & trains

Children in different parts of the world… I saw in China once a little boy outside, a toddler, drop his pants at the street side at a market and just start ing on the sidewalk. And as I saw this, I saw that all the people there weren’t even bothered by this… Someone explained to me that while they’re little, toddler boys in China can go to the bathroom like that outside - but if he goes number 2, the mother has to pick up his feces (you know, like they were taking care of a dog).

But on the trains in China, they had a television screen in every car, with clips from what seemed like “America’s Funniest Home Videos.” Well, I couldn’t understand a thing anyone was saying in China on this show on the train, but you couldn’t help but watch, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was a great means of bringing levity when you’re on a public train, like when you’re on your way to work every morning on the el.

—

the poem: Private Lives 2005

sitting on the el train
i saw a middle-eastern man
sitting across from me
holding a large Zip-Loc bag
of some sort of food paste,
i couldn’t tell,
it looked like some sort of
curry-filled food paste

and the man looked unhappy,
and after a few minutes
i saw him open up
the Zip-Loc bag,
throw up into it,
then close the bag again

so, he was carrying
his vomit with him
on the el

at least he had a bag
he could seal it up with

—

the prose: Passport To Outer Space

And a lot of us have experiences around the city, and I’ve tried to see the world, not just this continent, but 15 European countries, Russia, China…
I’ve searched for these stories around the world, I’ve gotten my passport stamped like mad… but my sister told me about Don Stump, a friend of my dad’s who ran a restaurant, well, his father-in-law apparently bought and had the rights to the space in outer space (you know, like all of the space beyond out atmosphere between planets and stars and comets and asteroids and stuff…). My sister even said that his father-in-law stamped the passports of the astronauts that went into outer space, since they were crossing the areas he owned.
But Don Stump was pushed away from their house once, because at least two men from the FBI were there… Apparently Don’s father-in-law was minting coins, it wasn’t money that was valid anywhere, but it’s illegal for U.S. residents to try to make any sort of profit this way, the way they might have potentially done.
Now, Don and his wife and parents have passed away, so…. I guess there’s no way I can pay them for having my passport stamped for going to outer space. But when you’re up high in the Earth’s atmosphere, a lot of places look the same. I mean, Siberia, with snow peaks and mountain lines along the eastern coast, looks like the Rockies in America in the winter. It’s only when you get closer to the ground do you see the real differences.

—

parts of the poem: In The Air

Chicago looks grand from the sky
with this huge expanse of lake
next to it, like civilization crept up
as far as it could but finally had to stop.
The power of nature stopping the power
of mankind… Daylight, and the snow
on the ground in the winter time looks dirty,
too many cars have splashed mud on it as they
drove by. And in the winter the sky
always matches the shade of grey of the snow:
fitting for the city of the Blues.
Maybe the snow is already
that color, that perfect shade of grey,
when it falls from the sky in this city.

When I’m in the air, I like to look
out the window. Clouds look like
cotton balls when you’re above them,
and when you’re landing cars look like
little ants, on a mission, bringing food
back to their hill. And the
streets look like veins, capillaries in some
massive, monstrous body. And the
farmlands look like little squares of colors.
I wonder why each plot of land is a
different color, what’s growing there
that makes them different. Or maybe it’s
that some of them are turning shades of red
and brown because they are dying.

And it always seems on a plane that you’re stuck
sitting next to someone that is either
too wide for their seat, or is a businessman
with his newspaper stretched out
and his lap top computer on his little
fold out table. Once, when I was on a
flight back from D. C., a flight attendant
walked by, stack of magazines in her
hand, Time, Newsweek, Businessweek,
and I stopped her, asking what magazines
she had. And she replied, “Oh, these
magazines are for men.” This is a true
story. And I asked her again what she
had. I had already read Time, so I took Newsweek.

—

the poem: On An Airplane With A Frequent Flyer

“I was once on a flight to Hawaii and I was waiting in line
for the lavatory. There was always a line for a flight
this long, you know, it seemed the washrooms
were always on demand on a flight this long. So
I finally got into the washroom, you know, and I
looked into the toilet, and someone, well, lost the battle
against a very healthy digestive system and left the
“spoils” in the toilet, stuck. Maybe it didn’t want to go
down into the sewage tank where all the other
waste from this long trip went to. Can you imagine
all the stuff this airplane had to carry across the ocean?
Well, anyway, so I saw this stuck in the toilet, and I
went to the washroom, and when I was done i flushed and
it still wouldn’t budge, and so I opened the door and walked
out into the aisle of the plane again. And there was this
long line of people waiting to use this cramped
little washroom, and I just wanted to tell them all,
‘you know, I didn’t do that.’ And then it occurred to me
that everyone, when they leave the bathroom on that
plane, will think the exact same thing.”

—

and the prose: Around the World, & sweet home Chicago

And you know, I talk about travel around the world, but where we come from shows who we are. I mean, once I was on the other side of the world, at the Summer Palace, and an older man came over to me, knowing little english, and said, “My daughter and I wanted to know where you were from.” So… not knowing how much geography they knew, I said, “I’m from the United States, in Illinois, in Chicago.” And that’s when this old man from the other side of the world said, “oh… my kind of town.” And I started laughing, knowing the song, and then he said, “Frank Sinatra sang that.” and I laughed more, then realizing that although I try to learn about the world, but my soul still hold on to my Chicago roots, other editors even comment on my style of writing being affected by being from the MidWest, being from Chicago… being from here affects my style and my art, oftentimes as much as my family history.
I talk about learning stories from around the world, but I think we can also learn from stories right here, and as we live in this big world, it helps us to not feel small, but to grow larger than life.

—

For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details.

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Janet Kuypers performs this piece, along with poems and prose during the July 17 2007 performance art show “Living in a Big World”, live 07/17/07 at the Cafe (5115 North Lincoln Avenue, in Chicago, Illinois). The show contained poems and music from orted musicins from Wisconsin, Ohio, Tennessee, New Mexico, and even Canada, as well as original sampled music, include the writings listed toward the bottom of this show explanation. But in this show, Janet Kuypers, because shw was exemplifying living in a big world (the title of the show), she drew a large chair, painted it onto a white canvas (which actually was a bunch of pieces of 8.5″ x 11″ paper stuck together) and attached it to a wooden base, so she could literally sit in a drawing of a large chair (it was 60″ wide, actually). The visual display of the artwork projected onto a large paper screen for this show (which once again was actually a bunch of pieces of 8.5″ x 11″ paper stuck together)was a drawn TV, and inside the TV a bunch of Janet Kuypers photographs from around the world was shown in this “drawn” TV.

Artwork included in the projected “television” display included:
The Reischtag in Berlin Germany, Tiananmen Square in Beijing China, a building in Agrigento in Cicily Italy, Air Force One with President George H. W. Bush at Pease Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, a downed airplane in Joliet, Illinois, an airplane in Naples Florida, the Arbeit Macht Frei gate at the Dachau Concentration Camp in Dachau Germany, Arches National Park in Utah, Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington Virginia, Bad Gastein Austria, as bamboo frest in Oahu Hawaii, a building in Bruxelles.Belgium, castles in Rome, the Chicago skyline from Lake Michigan with superimposed landmarks like an Egyptian pyramid and a building from India and the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben and Russian churches and a mountain from the Alps, the Colloseum in Rome, a mermaid statue in Copenhagen Denmark, the White Cliffs of Dover in England, the Eiffel Tower in Paris France, el Yunque tropical rain forest in Puerto Rico, Tallinn Estonia, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, a gondola in Venice Italy, the Great Wall of China, the Senate Square Cathedral in Helsinki Finland, highrises in Shanghai China, the Hollywood sign in California, hot strings in Wyoming, a destroyed house after Katrina in New Orleans Louisiana, a King Tut like human Egyptian statue in Paris France, the Last Vegas skyline, the Louvre, Luxembourg, Michael Stipe of R.E.M. in Urbana Illinois, a painted building in Montreal Canada, a lefe-side replica of the Parthenon in Nashville Tennessee, a glove statue in front of a church in Omaha Nebraska, a pagoda near Beijing China, salvages wall art work in Pompeii, the Pyramid of Cestius in Rome, St. Petersburg Russia, San Francisco, the Seasttle Space Needle in Washington, Siberia from the sky, a video still of shydiving near the Rockies in Longmont Colorado, the space shuttle in Cape Canaveral, the Statue of Liberty in New Jersey/New York, a stop sign in Mexico (that says “alto”), Stockholm Sweden, Olympic Natl. Park Temperate Rain Forest in Washington, the Temple of Vesta in Rome, the Vatican, and Zurich Switzerland.

These are the writing included in the live show:

the poem: Paranoia

we sit here at dinner.
I try to breathe.
My hands rest on my thighs.
I must watch to be sure,
everything must be right:
the silverware, small fork,
large fork, plate, knife,
large spoon, small spoon.
Water glass. Wine glass.

I know no one else sees them:
the fish, the red fish, in
the curtains along the wall.
You have to watch them.
My eyes always glance there.

They are evil fish. They sit
in the curtains, they wait,
and then they come out.

And the yogurt, the yogurt
is the only thing that can
save me from them. throw
the yogurt, take a spoon,
use your hands. Anything.

And we sat there before
dinner, and he ate his
yogurt with his first spoon
before I could stop him.

How could you do this? How
can you save yourself now?
Will I have to save you again,
do you even understand
the danger

—

the prose: Man Who Talks Loud… Say Nothing

I try to learn about the world, try to understand the world. While first traveling, I did a MidWest tour of poetry, then was in a Chicago poetry show at the National Poetry Slam in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I sell my performance art audio on iTunes & Naster, I try to share myself with the world, but I wonder if I’m actually getting through to anyone.

I heard a Native American man, whose parents were from two different tribes (meaning that he could never truly have an allegiance with just one tribe), say that after he traveled extensively, he tried to tell his story to the people of either tribe, and no one wanted to even listen to him. They called him Ex-eh-ba-che, which means “man who talks loud… say nothing.”

Ex-eh-ba-che.
“Man who talks loud… say nothing.”

Oh, what am I saying, I’ve been around the world, but I’ve never talked to a Native American. That was actually from a movie I saw, I don’t even know if “Ex-eh-ba-che” is a real word or means anything.

But… If I want to see something about the world around me, maybe I should turn on the tee vee, I mean, if news channels can have reporters in war zones, there’s got to be something worth watching. Maybe I’ll just get out the remote and turn on the tee vee, then press the play button and see what’s out there in the world.

—

the poem: Fighting I Can Do

I know these are normal things
for me to be going through

I know that I have been raped
and beaten
I know they’ve tried to kill me
and lucky me, I survived

I think I can survive
everything they throw at me

But as time wears on
little pieces of this statue are chipped away
everybody wants something, right?
well, they’ve been taking from me
and taking
and taking
and taking
and my defenses are getting weaker
and I don’t know how much more
fighting
I can do

—

the poem: I Want

you know what I want?

i want a big house with filtered central air
and i want a big lawn so i can recreate nature

and i want a big fence so i’ll know what’s mine

and i want the evergreens trimmed into neat little
balls, because it has to look neat. plant everything
in a row.

and i want to spray chemicals on my lawn
to keep the dandelions away

and i want a plastic lobster bib
over my fancy dress at the fancy restaurant

and don’t forget the hundred dollar champagne

and i want a big fat car, and i want
someone else to drive it

and i want the two kids, one boy, one girl
and i want a nanny to take care of them for me

i want to be famous
i want everyone to love me

i want it
i want it all

—

the prose: Adjusting Your Beliefs

We lived in Pennsylvania for 6 months, and while I continued my work with cc&d magazine, I got a P.O. box in the town Intercourse Pennsylvania. And actually, it was an amish town, and we would go to the store there to stock up on spices, and the amish people who worked there were all short -

Now, I know I’m tall, but when I say they were short I should also say that their heads looked child-like… that the people working there looked like they had a mild form, or early stages of, downs syndrome. We could only guess by looking at the faces of these people that the Amish had too severe a history of inbreeding, and no one new came into their community.

And recently I was in Champaign to plant a tree, and we stopped at a mall and there was this hydro massage store in the mall - it was this temporary place that had booths set up for individuals to lay down in, and many jets of water pulsated into plastic sheets over the person’s body, it was a massage thing that people could pay for. Now, I had seen things like this before, but I was told I should try this, you know, just splurge, so I was in this thing that looked like a tanning bed for your body with your head sticking out at the end, and John talked to a few girls there, because he noticed how they looked liked they were dressed in near Amish, or Mennonite, clothing. And he found out that these girls were in their late teens, and they came in from out of town on a bus trip; yes, they were Amish, but yes, this was a trip sponsored by their Amish community, and one of the girls said she was on this trip to hopefully find a husband.

And it seems that they were doing this, they were allowing this much technology into the outskirts of their lives, to find someone else to have children with.

Ah, the choices we make. The sacrifices we make to help our lives, or the things we are willing to destroy when faced with insurmountable decisions.

—

the poem: A Retired Policeman Talks About Suicides He’s Seen

As a cop, I remember one lady,
we found her in her bathtub,
she cut her throat. That’s odd,
for women, normally they take pills,
they don’t like to disfigure themselves. But she knew what she was
doing, cutting her throat in a full bath.
Less messy that way. Autopsy said
she was full of barbiturates. She was
a nurse, that explained how she knew
how to do it, but then we found out
that she was pregnant, too. And to top
it off, her brother was a priest.

—

the prose: Technology and Communication (which is prose that has a bit of the poem “Communication ‘05″ in it)

Oh, I’m sorry. I was listening to my iPod.
Oh, wait, let me see, maybe I can hook this up to play the music for you.

You know, I was thinking about it - advancements in technology have been a wonderful thing, and many say it’s brought the world closer together, have kept people more connected. And on some levels I can totally agree with that - I mean, I read submissions from email, saving paper and ink and postage, I keep magazines on line so people around the world can read good writing, I’ve even had musicians from Wisconsin, Ohio and Tennessee find my readings and set music to my words.
But in the same respect, I sit all day at the same desk, staring at the web sites for the domain names I run, instead of actually meeting and working with people.

I mean, at one point, the people i emailed the most
lived in the same city as me, and were only a local call away.
in fact, one of my friends lived a block-and-a-half away from me,
on the same street as me, but
i still emailed her as much as i’d call her,
even though i could just walk over to her house
and have an actual conversation with her.

And even the phone, with cell phones you can carry a phone with you wherever you go, so you’ll never be lonely, but it seems to give teenagers another reason to talk endlessly on the phone… And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to attack someone at a bar, who is there with friends, who gets a walkie-talkie-style call from someone, and they take turns screaming their heads off to get little phrases to someone who couldn’t even be there with them.

I mean, the iPhone just came out, combining a cell phone with an iPod, as well as email and Internet web browsing. But some bits of technology allow you to tune the world out, like the iPod here. When people see these headphones on someone, they know that you’ve apparently found something bigger and better than them for their lives right now… But even without technology, when I go for walks every morning, I wear the iPod, but I also wear sunglasses, even if it’s overcast, so no one knows if I am studying every person I pass. With a lot of the technology we have now, we can learn about the rest of the world - or we can tune out the rest of the world and ignore any news that doesn’t fit in with what we want to believe.

—

the poem: The Carpet Factory, The Shoes

i heard a story today
about a little boy
one of many who was enslaved
by his country
in child labor

in this case
he was working
for a carpet factory

he managed to escape
he told his story
to the world
he was a hero at ten

but the people from the factory
held a grudge
and today i heard
that the little boy
was shot and killed
on the street
he was twelve

and then people complain to me
when i buy shoes
that are made in china

now i have to think
did somebody
have to die for these

will somebody have to die
for these

—

the prose: Differences in China: children & trains

Children in different parts of the world… I saw in China once a little boy outside, a toddler, drop his pants at the street side at a market and just start ing on the sidewalk. And as I saw this, I saw that all the people there weren’t even bothered by this… Someone explained to me that while they’re little, toddler boys in China can go to the bathroom like that outside - but if he goes number 2, the mother has to pick up his feces (you know, like they were taking care of a dog).

But on the trains in China, they had a television screen in every car, with clips from what seemed like “America’s Funniest Home Videos.” Well, I couldn’t understand a thing anyone was saying in China on this show on the train, but you couldn’t help but watch, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It was a great means of bringing levity when you’re on a public train, like when you’re on your way to work every morning on the el.

—

the poem: Private Lives 2005

sitting on the el train
i saw a middle-eastern man
sitting across from me
holding a large Zip-Loc bag
of some sort of food paste,
i couldn’t tell,
it looked like some sort of
curry-filled food paste

and the man looked unhappy,
and after a few minutes
i saw him open up
the Zip-Loc bag,
throw up into it,
then close the bag again

so, he was carrying
his vomit with him
on the el

at least he had a bag
he could seal it up with

—

the prose: Passport To Outer Space

And a lot of us have experiences around the city, and I’ve tried to see the world, not just this continent, but 15 European countries, Russia, China…
I’ve searched for these stories around the world, I’ve gotten my passport stamped like mad… but my sister told me about Don Stump, a friend of my dad’s who ran a restaurant, well, his father-in-law apparently bought and had the rights to the space in outer space (you know, like all of the space beyond out atmosphere between planets and stars and comets and asteroids and stuff…). My sister even said that his father-in-law stamped the passports of the astronauts that went into outer space, since they were crossing the areas he owned.
But Don Stump was pushed away from their house once, because at least two men from the FBI were there… Apparently Don’s father-in-law was minting coins, it wasn’t money that was valid anywhere, but it’s illegal for U.S. residents to try to make any sort of profit this way, the way they might have potentially done.
Now, Don and his wife and parents have passed away, so…. I guess there’s no way I can pay them for having my passport stamped for going to outer space. But when you’re up high in the Earth’s atmosphere, a lot of places look the same. I mean, Siberia, with snow peaks and mountain lines along the eastern coast, looks like the Rockies in America in the winter. It’s only when you get closer to the ground do you see the real differences.

—

parts of the poem: In The Air

Chicago looks grand from the sky
with this huge expanse of lake
next to it, like civilization crept up
as far as it could but finally had to stop.
The power of nature stopping the power
of mankind… Daylight, and the snow
on the ground in the winter time looks dirty,
too many cars have splashed mud on it as they
drove by. And in the winter the sky
always matches the shade of grey of the snow:
fitting for the city of the Blues.
Maybe the snow is already
that color, that perfect shade of grey,
when it falls from the sky in this city.

When I’m in the air, I like to look
out the window. Clouds look like
cotton balls when you’re above them,
and when you’re landing cars look like
little ants, on a mission, bringing food
back to their hill. And the
streets look like veins, capillaries in some
massive, monstrous body. And the
farmlands look like little squares of colors.
I wonder why each plot of land is a
different color, what’s growing there
that makes them different. Or maybe it’s
that some of them are turning shades of red
and brown because they are dying.

And it always seems on a plane that you’re stuck
sitting next to someone that is either
too wide for their seat, or is a businessman
with his newspaper stretched out
and his lap top computer on his little
fold out table. Once, when I was on a
flight back from D. C., a flight attendant
walked by, stack of magazines in her
hand, Time, Newsweek, Businessweek,
and I stopped her, asking what magazines
she had. And she replied, “Oh, these
magazines are for men.” This is a true
story. And I asked her again what she
had. I had already read Time, so I took Newsweek.

—

the poem: On An Airplane With A Frequent Flyer

“I was once on a flight to Hawaii and I was waiting in line
for the lavatory. There was always a line for a flight
this long, you know, it seemed the washrooms
were always on demand on a flight this long. So
I finally got into the washroom, you know, and I
looked into the toilet, and someone, well, lost the battle
against a very healthy digestive system and left the
“spoils” in the toilet, stuck. Maybe it didn’t want to go
down into the sewage tank where all the other
waste from this long trip went to. Can you imagine
all the stuff this airplane had to carry across the ocean?
Well, anyway, so I saw this stuck in the toilet, and I
went to the washroom, and when I was done i flushed and
it still wouldn’t budge, and so I opened the door and walked
out into the aisle of the plane again. And there was this
long line of people waiting to use this cramped
little washroom, and I just wanted to tell them all,
‘you know, I didn’t do that.’ And then it occurred to me
that everyone, when they leave the bathroom on that
plane, will think the exact same thing.”

—

and the prose: Around the World, & sweet home Chicago

And you know, I talk about travel around the world, but where we come from shows who we are. I mean, once I was on the other side of the world, at the Summer Palace, and an older man came over to me, knowing little english, and said, “My daughter and I wanted to know where you were from.” So… not knowing how much geography they knew, I said, “I’m from the United States, in Illinois, in Chicago.” And that’s when this old man from the other side of the world said, “oh… my kind of town.” And I started laughing, knowing the song, and then he said, “Frank Sinatra sang that.” and I laughed more, then realizing that although I try to learn about the world, but my soul still hold on to my Chicago roots, other editors even comment on my style of writing being affected by being from the MidWest, being from Chicago… being from here affects my style and my art, oftentimes as much as my family history.
I talk about learning stories from around the world, but I think we can also learn from stories right here, and as we live in this big world, it helps us to not feel small, but to grow larger than life.

—

For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details.

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How to Make Easy Money with Online Forex Trading for FREE Paid by PayPal Work at Home Youtube Video

Earn $500 EVERYDAY for FREE. Make Money Online absolutely FREE No Investment and No Experience required to join. This is a REAL legitimate work at home job. This can be your own home based business and all you need is your computer with internet access. To get started, visit the website on the video, select the companies that you’ll like to signup and you’ll be ready to earn more than $500 per day and get paid to your Paypal account. This is the fastest and easiest way to make money online today so join now.

Thats why they tend to access only 1 hour or 4 hours charts thinking that this will bring forward the best opportunity for making easy money. Making money trading forex is a synonym for investing not for gambling.

Despite forex market
volatility, the moments when the currencies devalue becoming worthless are very rare.

Thats why its recommended that you have deep financial standing because it will help you make some money after a few weeks or after a few years when the currency will rebounce.

You should know that any experienced trader would rather work with liquid money instead of depending on any currency.

Also, new traders shouldnt relay on any inside information or secrets that will make them rich over night because there are none.

The forex market is liquid and it involves numerous transactions each day moving millions and trillions of dollars from one place to another and thats why inside information wont be of any help.

Anyway the data changes continuously and that means that theres no room on the market for any insider secret.

The best thing for you to do when you decide to make money trading forex will be to leave the opportunistic investments aside and start making a solid long term plan

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Make Easy Money Fast Playing Online Video Games for FREE Get Paid by PayPal Quick Cash Youtube

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In todays world it is becoming more and more difficult for the average person to get by financially with the ever increasing day to day costs of simply existing. With the ongoing increases in mortgage rates, fuel costs and even food, a large proportion of people are finding that every month is one unhappy struggle.

More and more people are therefore looking for additional sources of income outside of their day to day job to cater for these exorbitant living costs. These include working a second job or joining a new work from home business. Some are even resorting to gambling to try and bridge the financial shortfall.

Getting good at a skill game is really no different from achieving a high level of competence in any other discipline. All you need to do is practice religiously day in day out and your ability will naturally increase. Find a skill games website that you like and more importantly a game or two that takes your fancy. Most sites allow you to play for free for as long as you like, so make sure you do this before you even consider uploading funds. Whatever game you select, ensure that you understand the rules fully so that you do not forfeit any potential score bonuses. You must understand that when you ultimately play for money you are going to be playing people who have themselves reached a good standard; you therefore want to ensure that you give yourself every possible advantage.

When you have decided that it is time to make money playing games, upload your funds to your online account. To begin with, start playing one on one for a low wager and do not be tempted to increase this just because you have won a few games. Treat this as a business and try not to get to excited and emotional about the whole process. When you feel supremely confident and are winning 70% of your games, then and only then up the game wager.

When you have developed your skill level to a very high standard, you should consider entering the multiplayer tournaments; this is where the big bucks are there for the taking. The tournaments may vary in time scale and entry fee level but this is where you ultimately want to be if you are looking for that worthwhile income.

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Ashley gives some budget advice to her viewers.

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Welcome to The Daily Stock Report…brought to you by QualityStocks.net, where performance is tracked daily.
I’m Jen Hoffman, and for Wednesday February 20th we’re bringing you the latest news from around the markets.

(HEADLINE NEWS)

Today’s headline news are brought to you by EdgeTech International, Inc. (EGIL.PK). EdgeTech International (EGIL.PK) is focused on providing the world’s first handheld, wireless internet device called the “The PC Edge”. For less than $300, consumers can obtain the palm sized computer that delivers internet over cellular networks with download speeds faster than any other wireless device.

Lets get in to the Headline news for Tuesday…

Defying the gloom that many retailers are feeling, Wal-Mart Stores expect a more profitable year. Their strategy involves selling to penny-pinching shoppers after its renewed focus on low prices paid off over the holidays with a 4 percent rise in fourth-quarter profit.

Oil futures shot higher yesterday, closing above $100. Investors bet that crude prices will keep climbing despite evidence of plentiful supplies and falling demand. At the pump, gas prices rose further above $3 a gallon.

The markets open this morning with…

The Dow down, 10.99 or point 9%
The Nasdaq down, 15.60 or point 67%
And the S&P 500 down, 1.21 or point 9%

And now for a look at the Small Cap news Quality Stocks is tracking…

Small Cap headlines are brought to you by Famous Uncle Al’s Hot Dogs & Grille, Inc. (FDOG.OB). Famous Uncle Al’s Hot Dogs & Grille (FDOG.OB) is dedicated to operating the exclusive worldwide rights to franchise Famous Uncle Al’s Hot Dogs & Grille (FDOG.OB) restaurants. After opening its first restaurant in 1985.

The QualityStocks.net Daily Newsletter highlighted Sharps Compliance Corp. (SCOM.OB) as “One To Watch”. Sharps Compliance Corp. (SCOM.OB) announced this month’s record revenue of $3.75 million are up 18% . That’s compared with revenue of $3.2 million in the same prior period. Sharps (SCOM.OB) was also able to increase its Customer billings… which is a key indicator of the performance and progress of the business.

Open Energy Corp. (OEGY.OB) announced late last month that Petersen Dean… one of the largest roofing companies in the United States… placed a $2.3 million purchase order of SolarSave PV Tiles. The company also recently completed a major solar electric installation for the San Francisco Public Utilities Commission.

There’s new news for Converted Organics Inc. (COIN). Converted Organics shares have climbed 80% since the start of this year. This month the company announced the first delivery of its fully automated, free-standing, organic waste recycling system, to Folsom State Prison, near Sacramento, CA.

And that’s our newsmakers, Stay tuned right here to QualityStocks Daily Newsletter for the latest news from small cap to large cap, and everything in between by QualityStocks.net. Where performance is tracked daily.

Thank you for tuning in, I’m Jenn Hoffman, Have a great day and we’ll see you tomorrow, right here on The QualityStocks Daily Report.

Please see Disclaimer on site: http://Disclaimer.QualityStocks.net

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