ALL OF US ARE CONTENT<title> <META name="description" content="the website of the poet anne boyer."> <META name="keywords" content="anne boyer website, anne boyer, poetry, anne boyer poetry, anne boyer writer, the romance of happy workers, good apocalypse, anne boyer's good apocalypse, odalisqued, poetry, anne boyer poetry, art is war, selected dreams, selected dreams with a note on phrenology, joan, the two thousands, the two-thousands, the 2000s, ma vie en bling, pussipo, flarm, pigtails, sunglasses, light tanning, artist, anne boyer artist, merzbow, money, animals, small animals, anne boyer, chapbook, anne boyer chapbook, mitzvah, coffee house, bloof, bloof books, effing press, effing, dynamo, social networking, internet poetry, i was a poet on the internet, joan novel, novel of everybody, universal novel, novel novel, twitter, tweetsome, charlemagne, charlemange, @anneboyer, anneboyer.com"></head><body alink="#336699" background="/water.gif"> <link="#000000" text="#000000" vlink="#666666"> <br> <br> <table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" height="167" width="845"> <tbody><tr> <td colspan="5" align="center" bgcolor="#ffffff" height="84" valign="middle"><img src="/mars.jpg" alt="header elbows and legs and knees" height="84" width="845"></td> </tr> <tr> <td align="center" bgcolor="#ffffff" height="18" valign="middle" width="152"><div align="center"><font size="2"><strong><strong><font face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><br> <a href="http://anneboyer.com/ALLTHING.html">artist yes</a></font></strong><font face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><br> </font></strong></font></div></td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#ffffff" height="18" valign="middle" width="197"><div align="center"><font size="2"><strong><strong><font face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><a href="http://www.odalisqued.blogspot.com"><br> research and $$$$$$$ </a></font></strong><font face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><br> </font></strong></font></div></td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#ffffff" height="18" valign="middle" width="177"><div align="center"><font size="2"><strong><strong><font face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><a href="http://www.anneboyer.com/CV.html"><br> curriculum vitae </a></font></strong><font face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><br> </font></strong></font></div></td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#ffffff" height="18" valign="middle" width="146"><font size="3"><strong><font face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" size="2"><a href="/koalas.htm" target="_blank"><img src="book.gif"></a> <br> helpful koalas</a></font></strong></font></td> <td align="center" bgcolor="#ffffff" height="18" valign="middle" width="173"><div align="center"><font size="2"><strong><font face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"> <a href="http://www.anneboyer.com/home?.html"><br> home</a></font></strong></font></div></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="5" align="left" bgcolor="#ffffff" height="21" valign="top"><table border="0" bordercolor="#333333" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"> <tbody><tr> <td bgcolor="#ffffff" height="741" width="2%"><font color="#ffffff">abaaa</font></td> <td width="96%"><p><font color="#000000" face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" size="3"><strong><font color="#990000"><br> A COMMON STORY </font></strong></font></p> <p><font face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" size="3"><br> <br> <font face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" size="3">Many of you can relate to my story. You have your story, and I have my story. But what is our story--a story written by the very society we live in? My story, it all began thousands of years ago, even before the moon was broken. Sadly, it is a common story today, or at least the first part is. It’s played out the world over. It’s the human venture, a story that, when you read it, you can say, “That’s my story, too.” <br> <br> The plot of my personal story follows the common story of humankind. The story is very different from what a lot of girls dream of when they are young—I always liked that script. The reason that I am telling my story is that I have so much information. If I had been asked a few centuries ago to tell my story I would have refused. And certainly, my life isn’t interesting enough to read about, but infants whose lips were touched by bees become great speakers, so I had to let go. <br> <br> I have a role in this narrative. Even disunity is part of the story—each generation shares at least one thing—and the sheer repetition of a common story may drum itself into the collective conscious, perhaps inspire researchers of pop literature and fans of modern folklore. This theory illuminates why I refuse to be forgotten. I thought that building this allowed me to throw things and that wouldn’t have worked if I were sitting up straight. <br> <br> Then it was dinner, maybe some sight seeing or night life, then off to bed. We were cleaning up our images. I just loved the pace. Life’s greatest inventions, including things like eyes, brains, Kev and I with Pizza Hut’s buffalo chicken pizza—well I’ve received a lot more. If the equation fits and C is variable, how does my work swallow jealousy and force life into my throat? <br> <br> I try to match many of the ordinary archetypes. This brings back a lot of memories. You got pregnant, and you knew there was a good chance your child would die. And the full-blown war divided everything in two and left barely a stone unturned. Struck with the white leprosy of poverty I knew enough of tragedy. The powers of capital have been around ever since, diluting the rights of workers. All around the world, when women started to speak, they just got heckled. <br> <br> I am not issuing an invitation to Holy War, but knowing that this was a universal story didn’t quite prepare me to transcend language, country and genre, as it was a universal story of the importance of the value and quality of a certain time and place. <br> <br> So I told my story over and over again. I told about the barn and the way we walked over to it. I told about the way they ended up putting a big fence in the way. I told about the tournament director who was lying down on a couch in the hotel room. <br> <br> And each time, the story was a little different. This was beautiful, a color and palette to investigate an issue that made my day, like a shadow-eating picture, and if my throat is pulverized it is because I happened upon a site and I wanted you to understand my house. I am broken and I need less of you. But I had to speak the truth. <br> <br> Now Louis looked up from the webpage. “Do you want any help, or not? I have other things to do than sit here and read.” And I braced for the response to my story, why I left the royal family, why I signed off for some reason and was not let back on. Soon my turn came and I knew. <br> <br> It is that truth that I want to share with you today in the hope that it will set you free. My agenda is sexuality. And I may sound the pessimist in declaring poor working conditions, but a few bright cases said to all of them: “I was walking along with my Joan today, where they probably wouldn’t go near, and in the lane It took every ounce of faith. There were days upon days of absolute, unending agony. I don’t care if I sound crazy.” <br> <br> And while writing this story I know it makes me sound like a little bitch. I am terrified that when I wake up I am not even going to lie anymore. It is difficult to do this. The judges said I have to speak the truth and I said, ‘I know nothing about that’, and they said, ‘You are lying!’ and I was. </font><br> . <br> <br> </font></p> <p><font color="#666666" face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" size="3"><br> </font> </p></td> <td valign="top" width="2%"><font color="#ffffff">aaaab</font></td> </tr> </tbody></table></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan="5" align="left" bgcolor="#000000" height="44" valign="top"><div align="center"><font color="#ffffff" face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" size="1"><br> All images and text © :D :D :D :D. Website design and production :D :D :D :D 2009. 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