josh kleinberg emailed me and asked for a short play. i sent him a short play that is not in any book and now it is up at slingshot. read it here.

if you want to read more short plays, buy CLONE, i will sell it to you for the price of shipping (five dollars u.s., like ten dollars outside u.s.)

UPDATE: if you video tape yourself throwing up and saying the name of either of the next two books coming out, i will give you both books for free. throwing up or injuring yourself in some way, maybe standing in front of a bathroom mirror and just cutting your chest open. two free books for whoever does this.



hello. i have some copies of I AM GOING TO CLONE MYSELF THEN KILL THE CLONE AND EAT IT. if you want one, email me and make me an offer. (hint: i will probably agree to sell it to you for the price of shipping, wink wink). you can pay me for it too though. i will use the money to pay for food, and probably i will go to baskin robbins at four in the morning and buy an ice cream cone too and then walk out into the parking lot and eat the cone, feeling like i am missing something or someone but not quite sure what or who. you can also buy the book from the publisher if you click the link above. i read the book again and i still like it. it seems like i was in a better mood when i wrote it, compared to right now and the time in between. i am writing a full length play now. i am pretty worried about the strength of my front teeth, they hurt bad because i tried to prove to someone that cats like it when they get picked up by their necks and then i picked a cat up with my front teeth to prove it. sorry if you think this post blows hard ass. i will try harder. who have you disappointed today. if you look hard enough i think you will notice many many instances. jk, everything is fine. i fooled you.

also i would hope you might read this.



THE SELF ESTEEM HOLOCAUST COMES HOME (six gallery 2009) is at the printers and i am waiting for the proof. it should be out soon.

meanwhile, here is a tentative plan to save mother earth. but i'm going to need your help!



new PAX AMERICANA is up. i have a poem in it. it is called HEIL ME.

also: click on these lines __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


i had a dream that my current self encountered my three-year old self in an empty room, and my three year old self had down's syndrome and was screaming at me.

also: here are two pictures of people that i've changed to make meaner-looking.



you can read a new noah cicero book in its entirety on his blog. the post is titled BEST BEHAVIOR.



chris higgs mentioned MORON CULTURE on his awesome blog.

i have an extra copy of BE NICE TO EVERYONE (ml press). BE NICE TO EVERYONE is one of the plays from the forthcoming book THE SELF ESTEEM HOLOCAUST COMES HOME (sixgallery press). i am willing to get rid of BE NICE TO EVERYONE for whatever you offer (need food money (scared, this is the first time i've tried to sell something except for when i was younger and tried to sell my turbografix 16 to my neighbor (later i watched my younger brother hit the same neihbor in the head with a rock and then the neigbor fell facedown into a puddle in the alley).

also, if you go to school for theatre, or if you teach theatre, or if you are in a theatre group, and you maybe want to perform some of the plays, email me and i can email you the pdf and/or physical copy when they become available.

here's a video of people performing a different play.

i will have copies of I AM GOING TO CLONE MYSELF THEN KILL THE CLONE AND EAT IT soon. (when i put the garbage in your mouth i hold your mouth closed so you can taste the garbage).

here's a map to my place in case you want to shoot me and/or steal my paper towels and/or play mortal kombat 3 with me and/or just stare at me:

and remember:

climbing the staircase that still needs to be built, you use the people around you for wood.

climbing the staircase that still needs to be built, you mistake the people around you for wood.


There was a man in the commons area and he had his face over a grill, heat distortions waving over him.

His feet were gone, and in their place, blood-caked and hacked-up ankle bones brought to crude point.

These he navigated in placement like stilts.

These, leading up to his smiling face, held close to the heat.

He laughed and held his head over the grill until a crack ran the middle of his face, from forehead to chin.

Its happening was quick, red beneath, followed by the almost invisible curing and curling of the skin around the wound with cellophane quickness did this do.

He stood up laughing, touching the split.

He said—Uhhh.

He licked at the crack and the four pieces of his lips.

Him said—Don’t you just love it. I think I’m going to keep it—Him said.