TAYLOR JOHNSON
HOMEPAGE
I guess you'd have to say I'm a
semi-southerner. Borned in Atlanta, reared (mostly) in Texas. I still live
in Texas on account of I like it, more specifically in Casa Linda: a
(slightly unwilling) area of Dallas to which overpaid Republican bankers
and lawyers venture from their antiseptic suburbs when they want to view
large wooden edifices known as trees through their tinted SUV windows
before rushing back to their subdivisions to lurk in stark air
conditioning and hatch feckless little plots to help Dallas maintain its
status as the Texas capital of antiseptic philistinism. I think they're
pretty damn funny despite their personal and spiritual tragedy, but then I
expect the think the same of me. So far I've achieved enough fame and
notoriety with the sort of feckless little wordplay contained herein
to keep me in my day job. Nonetheless, here it is. rambles and
musings:
Not quite poetry, not quite prose, not very
grammatical, not very normal.
poetry:
I hope you know, 'cause I don't. I've never been
convinced I really understand what does and does not
constitute poetry. Slammers and academics have lengthy
and beautifully ludicrous arguments about what does and
does not constitute poetry. If you ever hear one, I hope
you're wearing old shoes. Of course, none of these
discussions have stopped me from wantonly committing
random acts of poetry.
RA9
See An excerpt from tj's first novel Rise
At Nine, and meet the members of the rock band Moronic Ox as they
attend a sporting event.
New Stuff
Something I've written and/or posted recently. Hopefully
it's something that will later be added elsewhere. If I don't
decide it sucks. Fall 2002 features Clockwatching, an amusing little
ditty about the nine to five grind.
This Ring of Words
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Last updated 5/20/03