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bear parade

yesterday i was talking to myself...
by ellen kennedy

this is the third book in the bear parade series.

ellen kennedy is a person. she lives in a house. her cat is named luna. she is a gardener. she carries lemons around like babies and people stare at her. she eats asparagus. she walks in a river. she walked next to the river once and saw an ant drowning in a puddle and tao lin was there and they saved the ant with a rubber boot and a stick.



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

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.


- 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
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

"Man! Damn it all!"


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

subject: why life is unbelievably stupid

once i heard some good things about miranda july, and someone mentioned the name of tao lin in connection with the name of mirandy july (i can see why now). i wanted to read something by tao lin, who i thought at the time was much more of an established professional or something. more like miranda july. but since i was wrong, there was never anything by tao lin in the bookstore and anyway i couldn't decide whether it would be under T for tao or L for lin since it's an asian name and i don't know which name is supposed to be the first name, or whether the first name would be the last name even if i did know. (now i live in hungary.)

anyway, i forgot all about tao lin for something like 3 years, and then one day i was writing something and trying to randomly invent an asian-sounding name and my brain allowed me to write "tao lin." but something made me decide to look up whether someone or something with this name already exists to make sure it was an okay name to use. why did i do this? i have never invented names before, let alone asian names, and if i had i wouldn't have looked them up! i remembered about tao lin because i had invented his name on accident.

then today i decided to finally look something up about this tao lin and read a couple of his stories and then started looking at the other people he linked to in his blog, which included ellen kennedy, and i read a couple of her stories and read her biography on bear parade and read the comments to this biography.

now i have to go back in time and write about how i used to talk to some person online and we would read each other's livejournals and then i met this person in real life and he gave me a copy of his poetry signed in blood but then he called me a cunt because i wouldn't give him a blowjob. this person was the person called "sean" who commented on the biography of ellen kennedy something about feet, which is how i knew it was the same person.

anyway if you see sean please tell him it was me who left that amazing comment on his livejournal a couple months ago and that he is the one who is the cunt.

but the point is that my first name is also ellen, which is why i am angry now because if i ever publish anything or whatever i will have to change my name.

i hate the internet.
don't approve this.

- nothing / October 28, 2008 9:16 AM

I think this made me think I'm not as crazy as I thought. Or maybe that I'm not as crazy as I'd like to be or to think I am. Probably it just filled out some of my time, but I think I'd read it again, so there's that.

- Robert / January 3, 2009 5:40 PM

Should "nothing" return:

I know who you are and that you are cruel and delusional. The event you described transpired a long time ago, sweetie. You sound like a stalker. No man enjoys that, especially Sean, who's mine. It would be in your best interest not to leave him additional "amazing" (God help you) comments or speak to or about him in any manner whatsoever. Good luck in your attempt to "ever publish anything or whatever," you fucking bitch.

To the administrator:
Posting this comment would be appreciated, though I apologize for the outburst. As a fellow writer, I mean no disrespect. Just looking after my own.

- DH / February 25, 2009 8:55 PM

I read the parts in Ellen Kennedy's book about killing children and initially thought, "That sounds terrible." Then I realized that I've killed pretend children, before.

In real life, I will never kill children. I doubt Ellen Kennedy will ever kill children, either. I would feel sad and guilty and be sent to jail where I would feel even more sad and guilty. Also, children are a lot smarter then they let on and very sensible even if it's in a way that's only sensible to them.

When I used to work in Chipotle, parents would come in with their children. These children would run around the table, scream at each other, and leave rice and ground cheese on the floor. They would grab cups and not say please. When I swept the floor or picked up the cups, I would make up different children and hit them. Sometimes, these pretend children would end up dead. Their pretend parents would be very relieved. They would say, "Our pretend child went to pretend school and teased weaker, smaller pretend children that looked a lot like you. Killing that child on your part was poetic justice. Good job." Then my Chipotle manager in real life would say, "Why are you smiling while sweeping? That's pretty weird. Are you laughing at something? Are you laughing at me?"

If I ever kill pretend children again, I will see if their blood is another color besides red. Ellen Kennedy sounds like she knows what she's talking about. I once saw Starry Night when I was in New York. I would like to make a copy of it but with more blue paint. Maybe I could make the cypress tree in the foreground a Chipotle.

- Gillian / March 1, 2009 9:10 PM

i like this book

- ryan manning / March 20, 2009 8:21 PM


- Rose / April 2, 2009 3:44 PM

good job.

- johnny / April 21, 2009 9:46 PM

Dude, woah, this drama between "Nothing Ellen" and "DH" and "Sean" is like it's own fuckin' book. I was googling myself and came across my comment from a long time ago. I was googling myself with the word fuck attached. A writer I respect had concerns and wanted to make sure I wasn't ever going to say I'd like to fuck her.

- P. H. Madore / May 5, 2009 6:10 PM

Ellen Kennedy is a person. She makes poems about stuff. She sliced-up avocados. She stands on her lawn and pretends she's the Lincoln Memorial. She transforms into a blue gelatinous substance and merges with passing joggers.

- John / May 11, 2009 8:30 AM

this is great. i would buy yr book
but i dont have money. $$$

- simon / February 17, 2010 2:57 PM

i like this a lot
does everybody know everybody on this blurb
i hope not

i am

the way this is written reminds me of apples

- joy / March 9, 2010 12:18 AM

what seems more comfortable to you?
laying in big sur,
or laying in the lovely nests of hypertext ya'll make?

- m.a. / May 27, 2010 9:24 AM

I read your poem and smiled :)

- Spongyhamster / July 17, 2010 9:29 AM

yer poems are great, deepening.

sat outside a movie theater for 30 minutes comfortably thinking abt a single poem. the one with the hamster that feels bad and opens in a shower.

it was good i had that to think abt.

- yes, you / July 29, 2010 9:33 PM

yeaah, I read and imagined all stories

- serj kirchano / November 30, 2010 1:35 PM


- anonymous / June 7, 2011 5:47 PM

you are nurishing to me. please write more..

- anonymous / July 27, 2011 4:03 PM