Guy LeCharles Gonzalez (aka glecharles) (aka loudpoet)

An arm with a tattoo: "I was made for the library, not the classroom."

Short-short #1: Karma

"This can't be right! Why are you doing this?""Hard to believe, I know, but it is what it is.""Wait, I can pay you! More than she is. Much more!""Not sure who 'she' is, but you definitely could pay me more, seeing as I'm doing this for free. For me.""Free? You? What the--""You don't even remember me, do you? Heh. Figures. Dumbass. Always were too full of yourself to notice anyone around you. The past two weeks have been interesting, watching you in action again. You've gotten smoother, but you're still the same self-centered little schmuck.""Who--? What the hell is going…

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An arm with a tattoo: "I was made for the library, not the classroom."

Anxiety, Autism and Arthur Avenue

Beyond Salomé and the kids' birthdays and our wedding anniversary, I'm not very good at remembering specific dates, but 5/3/2005 will always be a memorable one because that's the day India was diagnosed with autism*. "Pervasive Developmental Disorder-Not Otherwise Specified" (PDD-NOS), to be specific, the catch-all term for a laundry list of autism-related and autism-like disorders that, I think, is part of the reason for the recent explosion in autism diagnoses over the past 10 years or so. It's been a long two years for us since the, full of emotional highs and lows, but overall, she's come a long way thanks to early intervention and the…

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An arm with a tattoo: "I was made for the library, not the classroom."

A Bar, a Beer, a Notebook and a Pen

Me, Self-Portrait Back in my early poetry days, at the very beginning in the summer of '97, I wrote the majority of my poems sitting at the shadowy bar in Botanica, a pint of Brooklyn Brown always at hand as my pen scribbled furiously in my notebook. Tonight, a series of unexpected events set in motion by Roger's bailing on the Mets game and me unable to find a taker for the extra ticket, found me watching the game at Coppersmith's, a pint of Magic Hat #9 always at hand as my pen scribbled furiously in my notebook. It's been a long time since I've written…

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An arm with a tattoo: "I was made for the library, not the classroom."

On procrastinations and resolutions

The Writer's Block: 786 Ideas to Jump-Start Your Imagination Jason Rekulak Between the improving weather, tee ball and the new job -- plus occasional virtual forays into Elona and the return of new Grey's Anatomy episodes -- comics have gotten the short end of the stick the past couple of weeks and my Comic Book Commentary blog output has slipped dramatically. It doesn't help that I'm steadily moving away from floppies in favor of TPBs and OGNs -- a move Marvel and DC are making especially easy lately with their overdoing it on the big event crossovers that have curbed my enthusiasm quite a…

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An arm with a tattoo: "I was made for the library, not the classroom."

Spontaneous Drinking Network

John Barleycorn In an effort to streamline the "Hey, let's go have a drink tonight!" process, I've created the Spontaneous Drinking Network(TM), a group of friends' cell phone numbers in my address book to whom I can send a text message whenever I'm in the mood for a drink with others who have demonstrated the ability to handle their liquor with aplomb, with the time and location where I intend to do battle with Mr. John Barleycorn and would like them to accompany me.ie: SDN: Trailer Park Lounge, 271 W 23rd St @ 6pmLike the Bat Signal, this alert could come at anytime, but…

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An arm with a tattoo: "I was made for the library, not the classroom."

If it ain’t a pleasure, it ain’t a poem!

  Spoken Word Revolution Redux Mark Eleveld That's a great line from the United States of Poetry CD, but I don't remember from whom. It came to mind because I stopped by 13 last night for the first time in several months to catch the first semi-final slam of the season and Marc Smith's feature set, having never seen him do more than one poem. I've now still only ever seen him do one poem (though not the same one each time) since he pulled off what seemed like a 15-minute riff that felt oddly affected to these jaded ears. The whole slam movement…

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