Welcome to The Buffalo Readings Homepage Tuesday, January 27 2026 @ 04:12 am PST
After all this time. I come home fire warmth. Nuclear Lifestyle, but Buffalo does me right. Do I even Have Real Feelings anymore. Am I capable of real saddness for the cross-legged dirty underware stare of blankness at video game, television, computer 'work' pornography. This poem is also avoidance. My mind shoots away to fibre optic string glow down that-a-way resentfull of the gift I gave the loved ones. Somehow. Curled and durty onion guilt layers of layers of peeling and crying. Fake sublime guilt of father of no good no account lonng eared beating red faced and huffing of do not deserve of place truth in long paragraphs so as not to anger the reader of confession of relief of say it backwards and break to words up a Burroughsian cut up in your mind ion. Why-on, yes. I'll continue this after weakness. After coffee. Probably won't thought.
Shoot Your ass into space. Shit. You could accelerate something to the speed of light, but once it got there it would be a black hole.
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This is the Buffalo Readings segment that aired on Solvision, the Underground New York public access show. The filmographer and executive producer Freddie is a good friend who attended many Casa Del Sol Buffalo Activities. It was edited by Me, thus the Ripped Prooductions.

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13.8 MB Duration: 03:59
The Movie is in the Video-Podcast format mpeg4, which requires Quicktime 7.
King Otho just took a shit that will probably disrupt the entirety of the New York city sewer system. I'm calling 311 as a public service... update to come...
My father gave me (choose one)
This is a long and rambling poem about actual events. I don't really like the ending, and I'm embarassed by my negative view of "yuppies" a useless classification that provides no real information. And represents my own angry feelings toward naturally occuring city processes. Nevertheless, I provide it for you here. Also, this is the poem I read on the Solvision short.
I wrote this while going to work on the path train one morning, some time after Dave left for Seattle. We'd just pulled out of Journal Square, and the sheer face of raw cut rock whirring past my window vista, and the image of the sun filled horizon suddenly filled my mind. I scribbled this on one of them reporters notebooks.
Written while I was eating at the Waverly Diner down in the West Village. If you look at the original poem, you will actually find a large smudge of burger grease from the bacon cheeseburger I was balancing in my otherhand at the time.
This is a notebook finding. I have a thousand of these reporter's notebooks from my job that I've been using to keep my life organized for years. There are volumes of undiscovered writing, good, bad, etc, this being one of them.
I've just added a whole slew of new forums for your posting pleasure. Go nuts, that's what they're there for.
I wrote this at the very first Buffalo Readings I ever participated in. No sooner had I finished writting the last word on the piece; I looked up to find a camera in my face as I read this bad boy aloud.
Upgraded the system to GeekLog1-3.11, which in turn got the forums and file download system working.
Today we opened our doors fully operational, though still forming, cooling if you will. Not unlike the primative earth.
Dave and Aaron go on KBOO's the Talking Earth program. Noah gives a call in. They come in a few minutes into the audio clip, so fast forward if you're confused. They kicked. MOOSE -KO