blurbs

i am in the biography

- tao lin / May 2, 2006 10:15 PM

It is going good, then she lets you know she has social problems. I can relate.

- noah cicero / May 2, 2006 10:16 PM

i yelled 'fuck' at five-year-olds across a river

ellen yelled 'cocksucker'

the five-year-olds were teenagers and they yelled 'shut the fuck up' and 'fucking retards'

i yelled 'sorry'

i stepped on ellen's head and climbed the ledge

- tao lin / May 2, 2006 10:25 PM

i just thought of a flying squirrel flying and missing the branch and falling on the ground then laying there for a few minutes very still.

- ellen / May 2, 2006 10:54 PM

i have horrible images of hamsters walking, five hundred hamsters walking, and walking slower and then walking slower and then very slowly stopping and laying down and making the sounds of five hundred hamsters laying down

- tao lin / May 2, 2006 10:56 PM

ellen todl me tot blurb her book and make nmaoney tyupoes so right nowa i am typing voery fast and straem of oscnoisncuness stylei and wahtever it hink int oredner to make manyt ypoes

- tao lin / May 2, 2006 10:57 PM

i am about to eat a nut bar

- tao lin / May 3, 2006 7:27 PM

Young Ms. Kennedy has replaced the need for sex with her genius. There is no more sex. There is only her book. And feet which all the big lit boys should get ready to kiss.

- sean / May 5, 2006 2:33 AM

Book, what book? I don't see no book. Where is the book?

Oh that book, the one she said she'd never write-- great book, too bad she never wrote it.

It's great, you should read it sometime.

No, I don't have a copy I can loan you, buy your own.

- Billy The Blogging Poet / May 7, 2006 10:02 AM

ellen,
you are a little weird, and a lot twisty, and made of stranger flowers than most other people. but i like it all very much.

p.s. you have the same first name as my mom. i like that too.

- katy / May 7, 2006 11:13 AM

i am still looking for a new dress.

sunflowers.

- gene / May 10, 2006 10:41 PM

fourteen lemon nut bars

- tao / May 18, 2006 2:57 PM

if you memorize these poems and proceed to fall from your bike, it will still hurt, but not so much as if you fell from the bike without knowing the poems.

- nick / May 27, 2006 7:01 PM

i saw my ass

- taoq / June 2, 2006 11:07 AM

Haven't finished reading this yet, but this HAS to be the highlight for me...

"i used schutzhund methods of training to teach the duck to attack on command. we went on a killing rampage that lasted three days. we killed many small children and received the nobel prize for our achievements."

- P. H. Madore / June 10, 2006 11:22 PM

the other day i went to the laundromat and i was the only one there. it was cool and quiet and it smelled fresh and clean. i thought i would like to be here by myself for a long time, just like i would like to spend a long time in ellen kennedy's book.

- h.c.w. / June 15, 2006 2:33 AM

i try not to stand on my own side during an argument

- rylan / July 17, 2006 7:47 PM

oh i thought these blurbs were closed. i thought it was something you read like on a page and i guess in a book if i was reading blurbs i could just write mine on the page but, it wouldn't count as much.

i have read this book at least 5 to 6 times in the past 2 days.

- arynne / July 30, 2006 12:59 AM

I am interested-
and today I thought of the 42nd floor of the glass box and remembered I still haven't left, but wish to tell others to get out NOW.

- Ryan / February 21, 2008 1:37 PM

This is my favorite Bear Parade eBook.

I love Ellen Kennedy. I feel OK after I read this eBook or her blog.

- Jeremy / February 24, 2008 7:37 PM

spirit of the pen

- brussel / May 17, 2008 5:06 PM

i use to have a pet flying squirrel. it thought that i was it's mother because i rescued it when it was very very young from the clutches of a cat. the squirrel liked to go up on windowsills and then dive down my friend's tops whenever they came near him. it was funny for a while, but what most people don't realize is that flying squirrels have talons so they can attach themselves onto trees when they are tired of being in the air. and these talons are very sharp. anyways, one day the poor squirrel flew from the windowsill into my toilet and drowned. i was very sad.

- katie pedersen / May 30, 2008 10:55 AM

when I walk around my spaceship i always get a bit nostalgic. like i want to go back to my livingroom and be told by my mother to turn the tv off. i think she's late. i should have turned it off earlier.
now there's the spaceship and it's just there you can feel it.

- jack / July 16, 2008 2:57 PM

I lay in my bed, on my back with my
eight month old laptop on my stomach,
reading odd poems and listening to
Glorious by Muse. Being the person
I am, I wonder about something (can't
remember what it was now), exhale,
and stop breathing. Thirty second
slowly tick by and I finally gasp for
air. I exhale again and stop
breathing again. I realize I feel an
odd pulse in my midsection. My laptop
gently bobs up and down to the odd
pulse. A muscle twitches in my left
leg. I slowlyinhale the stale air of my
small room, exhale, and stop breathing.
After a second, the pulsing starts. I
wonder what could be the cause of
this, this odd pulsing in my body.
I repeat: inhale, exhale, stop. The
pulsing starts up again. My muscles
twitch. I soon realize that the odd
pulsing is coming from my chest,
behind my breast bone. My heart. It
beats. My head swells as it tries to
get me to inhale the stale air, but
I'm to fasinated by the pulsing of my
heart.
It beats! It really beats! I
think to myself. I make up a tune to
the rhythm of my heart, though, it is
rudely interrupted by the annoying
ache of my lungs, the swelling of my
head. I just simply ignore it. I
restart my tune. And what a joyous
tune it was. After a while, I notice
that the ache my lungs has vanished.
The swelling feeling, too. I'm glad,
until I look up and see myself staring
up at myself. I look rather empty and
pale. I wonder when a mirror got on
my ceiling. I look behind me, just to
realize that there is no mirror on
ceiling. That my surroundings are
still the same. I reach toward the
reflection, but stop when I
notice my hand. It's rather
transparent. I look back at the
reflection. It looked at me,
wide eyed, the pupils so dialated
that the brown-grey iris are just
thin, thin bands lining it. Then it
clicked.

"Man! Damn it all!"

~N.J.W

- Nao Wilson / September 28, 2008 10:02 PM

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