Grunge and Stuff

Below is a good live version of Nirvana. I really like some of the chord changes and progressions under the quite parts of the song. They had a lot of talent. Now I am almost always listening to hip-hop or jazz but it's nice to go back in time and here some Fugazi and Nirvana and such. 

Check out this link:

Good Paintings and Artwork by James Koehnline. 

A-Riv

Check out poet Andy Riverbed reading translations of my poetry (Spanish and English). Also, don't forget to click the newest issue of litchaos.com where you'll find an interview with  Andy that explains such mysteries as to why Andy was once called 1910. 

You can pre-order Damaged, Riverbed's book, at the Coatlism Bookstore. It's due out January 1st, 2009 but we hope they'll be available earlier than that. They make a great xmas present! 

An awesome music site! Fugazi! I was looking up Tabata workouts (the Japanese doctor's intense speed skating workout) and the video of how to do the workout had that awesome Fugazi song called "The Waiting Room". Wow! That brought back memories. Now I just need to hear the Pharcyde and Digable Planets and I'll be back in high school with Mark and Mark and Mark (...and Mark). 

AUTOEROTIC ELEGIES: Ralph-Michael Chiaia

AUTOEROTIC ELEGIES: Ralph-Michael Chiaia
Follow this link to be taken to some nice words from David McLean regarding my work. 

Do you have an Amazon account?

Calling all friends and family with Amazon.com accounts! If you have an account, please write a review of my first book of poetry. 

To be able to write a review, you need to have made one purchase on Amazon (of anything, not necessarily a book -- so you can't use the "Well, I don't read" excuse again, Karla). After one purchase you will have an account. 

I need some five-star reviews. Well, I can't be picky. I don't have enough so I need any reviews. Now, I only have four reviews, so I'm calling in the calvalry. Recently the poet David McLean wrote one for me, which was a thrill. Now I'm hooked and want more reviews of my chapbook 1o Poems & Ampersands. If you don't have a copy of my book but want to do a review I will be happy to send you a complimentary copy. Also, the review doesn't have to be long. A one sentence blurb (provided it's dazzlingly positve) will warm the cockles of my heart. 

Thanks for your help. Email me if you want me to send you a free copy of the book. 

Also, just for your entertainment, check out this video clip I made of some bats coming out of a cave in Gunung Mulu, Borneo. They look like a cobra coming out of a basket or smoke twisting through the air. If you're scared of bats, don't watch it -- there are a ton of them. Music is the traditional Malay lute and then Panjabi MC. 

As promised on my myspace.com blog

Welcome, myspace folks and regular viewers. Below is an old sijo (Korean traditional poem) that I translated with a lot of sweat and help.

Some History

The sijo is older than the japanese counterpart, the haiku. It's usually one breath (between 14 - 16 syllables). Yulgok Yi Yi was one of the most famous sijo writers in Korean history. His mother was a painter (see image) and a famous writer. He learned his craft from her. He was born 1536 in Kangneun, Kangwondo (Korea). At thirteen he passed Korea's prestigious government exam and joined the elite yangban ruling class. Yulgok believed that energy is the center of the universe. Also, he proposed reinforcing the Korean military -- in other words, he foresaw the impending Japanese invasion.

Below is one of his famous sijo poems. Enjoy:

Yulgok Yi Yi (author -- Joseon Dynasty)

First is

the sun strikes Crown Rock

mist lift leaving painted fields: far and

near alive

the pine wine-jar

I set for friends among the greens,

they seem to approach when I watch

Check out my myspace.com page to stay informed about what's going on.

Guerilla Operative makes his first mark

Guerilla Poetics spreads poetry throughout the English-speaking world. Now, South Korea is on the Guerilla Map, thanks to me. I sneaked some broadsides into Kyobo Bookstore in Gwanhwamun a few months ago. The first one was checked into the system a few days ago. See the map for yourself! Click the balloon marking Korea for more information.

The Mysteries of the Kiblat...(revealed)

What is Kiblat? by Ralph-Michael Chiaia out at Yellow Mama, August 2008.

I am not the only one who has worried about the kiblat. A Chinese Malaysian girl I know was paranoid about hidden cameras in her room. She lived in a dorm with girls from Mauritius, Somalia, Korea, and England. The non-Muslim girls who weren't familiar with the word Kiblat (or Qiblat) thought it might point to the direction of the hidden camera. Others thought it was the direction of the emergency exit. Another theory was that it was an advertisement for a local Malaysian band.

When I was in high school, my first date was with a girl from Iran. She was one of the sexiest girls in the school. Some of the things from those formative years come back to me now that I am in my thirties and doing my thing out here in Seoul, Korea.

"What is Kiblat?", a new short story at Yellow Mama, examines some of these things that have been with me over the years.

Enjoy!


Find Text Here (if the above link ceases connecting):

What is Kiblat?

Ralph-Michael Chiaia

These girls, one with a long serpentine tongue and who let me see her naked, said these words to me. These girls from my high school. They weren't bad girls. Well, they were. But good bad. You know what I mean. The kind I wanted to drink with, get high with, have sex with. Good kind of bad. They were like that. That's what I heard. One was hot, too. I mean really hot. She gave me a piece of gum she was chewing one time, you know to throw it in a trash bin for her, but I saved it and tacked it on my wall like a trophy. Whenever I was near them or talked to them, they giggled. They said that word. Then giggled. One night I got them pretty drunk at my house. Then they disappeared. I walked in on them in our recreation room making out. I asked if they'd like to make a sandwich. They said no. Before I could get upset, the hot one left me with the other one. She let me do whatever I wanted with her. Her tongue was really long and pink—it came to a sharp angular tip. I have never seen another tongue again like that. Her eyes were enormous, like those statues of Shakti or Saraswati. Also she had a cleft on her chin that looked exactly like a miniature of her own ass. I had a great time with her, but my mind wandered to the hotter one. I was young.

 Jump ahead.

Fourteen years have passed. Not much has happened in my life. Well, I got divorced once. Had about three different jobs. Maybe four. Lived in five or six different countries. Stubbed my toes hundreds of times, bit my lip in the thousands—goddamnit! Looked under "k" in many dictionaries in various languages. Had a few different girls. Ate many tacos, many kebabs, a lot of noodles; smoked many cigarettes, drank many different brands of beer; masturbated God only knows how many times.

 Then, it's right there on the motel ceiling. A green and white sticker with black letters on the white center: Kiblat. Like “Keeble” or like I don't know what. Like nothing. Like those girls. Like that cleft chin that looked like her ass. I get that burning in my loins, now in that pleasure center deeper than the loins thinking of her cleft ass, no, thinking of “kiblat.” What is “kiblat”?

There it is, unique and indiscernible, like an ancient hieroglyph—a memory-emotion pictogram that I cannot decipher nor contemplate. Right there on the cracked motel ceiling. I can't take my eyes off of it even when Aisha, this new girl I'm thinking of getting serious with, is on top of me with all her goodness. She's bulbous in all the right, and a few wrong (but nobody's perfect), spots. Even when she pulls me up to suck on a very right part of her, I think, “kiblat.” I pull away from her and read it aloud: "Kiblat. What the fuck is ‘Kiblat?’"

"Forget it." Aisha pulls me on top of her. "Focus."

I roll off of her. "I can't until I find out what that means."

 I move to India. I live in an Ashram, spending one week in total silence. In Tokyo, I do editing work and try to learn Japanese to no avail. Incidentally, Aisha and I no longer even email. I dream up an Internet marketing scheme while sunbathing on the beach in Thailand. I put all the money I saved in Japan into this foolproof scheme. I move to Korea broke and teach English. I meet a young Korean student who lures me with great legs and a wonderbra. I feel cheated by her wonderbra, but don't let that ruin everything. She opens her bag while laying on my couch naked, her little breasts perky. A Bahasa-English dictionary falls to the floor.  I pick it up for her, it's open to "k". My eyes go straight to the word “Kiblat.”

 It points you in the direction of Mecca.

My review of "Hot Rain"

Check out my review of Hot Rain by Lo Galluccio:

When I was a teenager, a friend of mine once said that people never talk as intimately as when they are cleaning out their ears with a q-tip. I have learned over the years that, although an adolescent made this comment, there is quite some truth in it. Hot Rain is a witty, fast-paced collection of poems that focuses on language, memories, and sound. The author is like a q-tip, and Galluccio's going to get the wax out. More

Cadaver's Dance by David McLean

David McLean, prolific poetry master, has published a new book called Cadaver's Dance. As Misti Rainwater-Lites says, "David writes like his ass is on fire." Unfamiliar with his voice? Then check the archives at litchaos.com for links to some of his ass is on fire writing. See for yourself how David navigates his verses through a full-fledged attack pattern. Following one of his poems is like running a gauntlet. His weapons include classical allusions, disturbing images that make you consider your body, your mind, your beliefs and leave you quite uncomfortable about yourself, and modern direct diction twirled into a fireball and shot out of cannon.

Click here to buy your copy. Or click the handsome orange-yellow image on the upper-right.

Cat, Poem, and Notes

Somehow I forgot to plug my own poem on my own website, litchaos.com. Anyway, it's is still there to be enjoyed, so check it out!

It's a poem and notes to a poem. It's my version of Pale Fire by Vladamir Nabokov.

Flash Fiction -- A useful, simple instruction manual regarding allergies

Thank you to those of you coming from Yellow Mama. Those of you coming from another source, please check out my new work "Instructions on Calming Allergies" up at Yellow Mama -- where there's a lot of brilliant work. One piece I particularly liked was "Orders" by Jarg Scott. Other pieces are from the usual crew: cindy rosmus, george anderson, lyn lifshin, cynthia ruth lewis.

In other news, Lit Chaos #37 is out to rave reviews. This is a very dynamic issue with a music video, visual poetry, art/poetry, (regular) poetry, and flash fiction to its credit. So be sure to check it out and check out the Lit Chaos Wiki where you can directly get involved in the litchaos.com community.