the lensography of jesuspepsi

Let's see, it all began with a xanga site. I was hoping to sort of mock a niche group of friends who suddenly, without provocation, all took up this blogging. Constantly, incessantly, filling out their online diaries. So was born Haiku Jujitsu. I decided mine would be entirely in strict, 17 syllable haiku, would have an obscure title having very little to do with the content of the post, would attach "currently listening/reading/etc." of some other obscure piece, and would before publishing add several obscure hyperlinks to various phrases and keywords. Go there. I post quite infrequently. The most recent is about my son turning two.

Now, my lens of the same title. I'm just really trying to be extra obscure. It must have worked. I'm in the Weird HQ group.

Early, I realized that I was destined to be a poet. My grandmother first introduced it to me as an art form. Hers was hallmarkian verse, ABAB rhyme with a twist of predictable rhythm -- the kind of rhythm that gently rocks you, like riding a see-saw with an epileptic. She will always be my favorite poet in that genre (eat it, Chaucer!)

Now, I take poetry very seriously. It's about sound, beat, color, beauty. The meringue on the mundane. Hit me, baby! So here are my poems. Currently, a slightly modded version of my junior poetry portfolio. They are unpublished as of now, although I'm interested in any offers. I have spotlighted one, and will rotate it out. Please, go enjoy this squid-chapbook.

No other living poet comes close. If we step back and look at the lineup of dead 'contemporary' poets, one might say, "Look at Frost, sir. He comes close." But my reply is, "Close only counts in the dark, when everyone is intently listening for the power to kick back on when I've already slipped out of the room, through the garage and out under the stars."

This lens is devoted to informing the planet about the genius that is Billy Collins. It's not my attempt to throw panties at him, it's more morally dignified than that. It's like stepping back and letting the fencing opponent have an open shot. My poems are elsewhere; they just happen to be standing in his shadow.

Some call him hot, but I call him about my age. He is John Krasinski. He is an actor. On television. On film. On a canoe, floating in the lake behind my house, and you'll never take me alive.... seriously, though, I'm not stalking him.

He is most noted and favored (sorry, J-Kraken, haven't had the cash to see License to Wed yet.) by me as Jim Halpert on NBC's The Office, easily my favorite show. The writing, the Christopher Guestian gimmick, the writing, the actors, the characters, the writing. If you don't know it, you are missing the point of everything. John, if you've Googled your name and come stumbling through the door, please, PLEASE email me. We have got a lot to talk about.

Every book, whether 'e' or 'p', needs a cover. And that cover should be engaging, informative, and honest. This lens is meant to give you some helpful insight. Aimed at self-publishing giants (we all are) who want to blow the competition away with a professional book cover, I'm offering free advice on designing book covers. Take the information and make your own in paint, or contact me about doing your custom book cover for you. (Seth, I'm talking to you.)

Seriously, I need to sell these things. My sister-in-law has cleared out her daughters' closets of this plastic princesses and put me to the task of selling them. So, I put them on craigslist. No takers yet. Perhaps you have a liking to them? Check it out.