Who are you? Ooh-ooh! Ooh-ooh! Oh tell me, who are you?

Monday, October 26, 2009


Hey.
Whaddup?

That's cool. I just realized that I got this far without talking about myself all that much. When I started this blog, I kind of figured that information about myself would kind of filter into the blogosphere, but then I realized that this is NAIVE!
Also, I'm kind of re-evaluating things right now, since I am in COLLEGE now, and my life is kind of ABNORMAL. Well, abnormal as in not my normal life. Things are weird, and it's weird. All I'm saying is that things are weird and changing and so am I, so I'm going to go ahead and talking about myself and it might and probably will change, but that is ok because change is a part of life, and I RESPECT that. 

Anyways, my name is Lee Molnar. I am living in Montreal, Canada. It is a great city and I am loving being here. I live right downtown, in an apartment with three other dudes, and they are really cool people. This weekend is proof of how awesome they are, on Friday night I hit my head on a doorway, because I am tall and like to jump (jump!). The two of them that were with me made sure I got all patched up and back to the apartment ok, and the one in the apartment also made sure I was ok for the next few days. Last night I went to see a show by my favourite band (The Fugitives), and afterwards we went to a party, and I mentioned the wound, that bled for a few minutes and still gives me trouble, and a girl compared it to a bruise on her arm. 

I am tired, so I will sleep.

Goodnight.

-Lee

I think I've forgotten how to come up with catchy titles. I used to be really good at it, like, 2 years ago

Friday, October 23, 2009


True story, one of my teacher's called me the "Title Tsar" just because he liked them so much, I was proud of them, they were funny and relevant to the piece and I don't know, I just lost the skill one day and never got it back. I hope I do get it back someday, it'd be cool if I could. 

I think I'm getting too obsessed with Jack Kerouac. I was reading William Wordsworth today, and I was reading about how his poem "Tintern Abbey" was written years after the fact and it was unedited and no joke, I thought, "Wow, he's like an old-timey Jack Kerouac!" I think I'm becoming gay for Jack Kerouac. I think I once said that when people inspire me, it's because I fall in love with them, and if I haven't once said that, I'm saying it now. Perhaps love is a strong word, but it's the only way I can describe it, I guess, I don't really know, I can't explain it, but to me, inspiration is a kind of intimate thing. 

Anyways, I did another day of Hourly Haikus. I'm kind of scared it's becoming an obstacle in my life though, and it's only been two days. I kind of feel like if I get too obsessed with writing a haiku every hour, I'll forget to do things worth haiku-ing. I don't know, I guess I'll see, I want to have at least one day where it'll be hard to do. One day that I'm doing stuff besides going to class and reading all day (like the past two days have been). The true test will be if it could survive a night out. 

The good thing is that it's making me write on here every day, which is cool. 

(12:34 am)
Drinking beer
and regretting
nothing.

(1:46 am)
Poems about cats
are sad when
you don't have one.

(2:13 am)
Facebook and
X-Men - Flowers
grow outside.

(3:00 am)
Sleep sleep sleepy time
to the exuberance of 
Lee Joseph Molnar.

(12:50 pm)
Talking to my 
parents on the phone in
my underwear.

(1:18 pm)
William Blake
was hella
depressed.

(2:30 pm)
Shady guys in
hospitals - cut to 
ghosts giving birth.

(3:44 pm)
Reading Wordsworth 
- dude knew 
his shit.

(4:38 pm)
Wired on coffee
and terrified of the 
Ancient Mariner.

(5:35 pm)
Hail is 
nothing but
asshole snow.

(6:46 pm)
Terrorful poems
with bemusing
pictures.

(7:24 pm)
Old man in
glasses talking about
innocence and childhood.

(8:34 pm) 
Cuddling with 
my pretty girl on the
phone with her mum.

(9:47 pm)
Listening to 
the fugitives with
my fevered girl.

(10:17 pm)
I mess up
the symmetry in my
apartment.

(11:48 pm)
Watching Paris'
New BFF with 
no sobriety.

I'm pretty sure most of these are terrible, terribly things. OH WELL!

Oh man!

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Oh man oh man oh man, I totally meant to mention this again in the post, but Jack Kerouac died 40 years ago as of... I guess yesterday considering the time that i'm writing this. Personally, i'm gonna celebrate his death by drinking a beer and thinking about hitchhiking across the country once spring comes. 

peace

-lee

Hourly Haikus

I want a cat. I love my apartment right now, but it's lacking something, it doesn't have the soul I want it too. And I think a cat would accomplish that. A little calico kitty drinking out of the sink and sitting on our high chairs, it'd be great. 
I also want a word that means the same thing as love does but for want. Like, I would love to have, but that's too long and the word I want needs to be a one syllable exclamation of extreme desire, but that can be subverted and adapted like love is. 
Anyways, I have hourly haikus to share with you dudes and ladies. They're really hourly haikus and senryus, but that doesn't look as nice as hourly haikus. I think we sometimes forget the visual side of words. Is there physical alliteration, based on what it looks like? I think we don't know how to read without our voices, and that's terrible. I want to write things that just look good, without any meaning beyond what it looks like. Poetry focuses too much on sound, we don't realize the visual side is important too.

Anyways, onto the haikus!

12:46 am
Three guys sitting
around a table -
laughing at riddles.

1:49 am
Crane hovering above
churchyard trees - framed
against the orange sky.

2:01 am
Johnny Depp and
Edmund Spenser hold conversation
in my head.

12:47 pm
Balding heads, unfortunate
facial hair and man 
purses passing by

1:56 pm
Gradient leaves
mourning the loss
of magic.

2:41 pm
Men in white
hats scale the church's
roof.

3:29 pm
Dogs run free in 
the park - six
children on a leash

4:31 pm
The sky darkens
and fuck me, I want
to love you.

5:37 pm
30 cent ramen
and Tiger Woods
losing.

6:29 pm
Girl in front of me
pulls out orange juice
and paper towels.

7:22 pm
Two dollars -
I get a pepsi 
for dinner.

8:42 pm
Like cub scouts -
talking bullshit
in a circle.

9:55 pm
Falling asleep on
a cuddly lady who smells
like banana.

10:58 pm
Discussing the artistic
process and childhood trauma
with laughter.

11:17 pm
Cars speeding
by me and I'm
walking faster.

The End

Ok, I think that turned out ok, definitely some of them are crap, and others are worse, and most are senryus instead of haikus but barely anyone knows the difference these days so who cares, right?
Hope you like them.

Fire it up (WARNING: PRETENSION!)

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Hey,

I'd like to take this opportunity to talk about a dude named Jack Kerouac. I should probably be writing this post tomorrow, since that would be the 40th anniversary of his death, but I just found that out a minute ago, so it doesn't matter. Besides, I have something special and Kerouac-esque to do tomorrow, so it kind of fits?
Anyways, in case you don't know, Jack Kerouac was an american writer of the Beat generation. What does this mean, you ask. It means he did a lot of drugs, got a lot of drunk, travelled a lot, wrote a lot, and just dug everything. He also didn't believe in editing or rewriting. That's what I want to focus on. I write a lot of poetry, I focussed on it through out high school, and am taking a course on it now that I probably think about more than any other course. The thing about poetry, though, is that it's a necessity to be a perfectionist, and to tighten every single word and every single line until it's shiny. There is no room for mistakes in poetry, there is no room for accidents. This annoys me, this isn't how I want to work. I want to be kind of Pollockian, if you know what I mean, though I don't know what I mean when I say that. Actually, I do, so never mind. The way I see Jackson Pollock's work is that the whole painting is one big mistake, but the process of making the mistake and the painting invokes a message as it is. That the mistakes made on it were preordained by the subconscious or the soul or whatever, and were there to invoke greater truth than it could before. And this is how I want to work, this is how I want to write. I do my best when I write what's off the top of my head, and don't worry about how it works or the structure or anything. I'm not saying that editing destroys the soul of a piece, but many times, editing gets rid of the original intent, because the original intent is in the original words, and could not be in any other words. 
So that's how I feel about editing. But even Kerouac edited and tightened his words, because Kerouac is the only american master of haiku. Even though he mostly wrote senryu, a similar but distinct form that concentrates on people rather than nature, Kerouac basically invented the american haiku. Kerouac looked at the classic haiku, and he decided, not without good reason, that the traditional 5-7-5 haiku bullshit could not work in the west. The original intent of a haiku is to displace a tiny snapshot of a tiny scene. Most traditional haiku have what my prof calls a "haiku moment", a moment when the entire theme of the poem is flipped on its head. A friend of mine wrote the following haiku, which is really more of a senryu, but whatever: "A little girl in/ a white dress plays with a kitten/ - flips his upside down." This has the "haiku moment", but I don't really agree with the "haiku moment". One of the things about haiku is that it's free of irony and poetic trickery, and the "haiku moment" is poetic trickery and irony. It's dishonest. Anyways, Jack Kerouac's haikus are everything a haiku should be. They are small, concise, and beautifully written. 

Another inspiration for a long time for me has been webcomics. There is one webcomic called pictures for sad children, which is the saddest and funniest thing in the world. The creator, John Campbell, is a genius, and every year, for a month he does hourly comics. Meaning every hour he will draw a little cartoon about what he did. I was looking at these today, and bemoaning the fact that I am not an artist, and I in fact have very little talent that way. Or not very little, but little. I can, however, write.
If you can't see what I'm doing here, I revoke your deduction license. 

I am going to, starting tomorrow, do hourly haikus. It'll be posted on this site, and hopefully they turn out ok. I'm not sure how I'm going to do this, maybe do one week straight every month, or do one day a week, or something, who knows. 
My main reason for doing this, however, is not for the hourly comics tradition. It is because Kerouac's magnum opus, On The Road, is a brutally frank and upfront, unedited book of his travels, that doesn't exclude anything. At the same time, Kerouac's haikus represent his best work, and a poetic eye not always present in On The Road. I am hoping to combine these two aspects of Kerouac's writing. 

Wish me luck.

-Lee