Quote of the Day
"A man takes contradiction and advice much more easily than people think, only he will not bear it when violently given, even if it is well-founded. Hearts are flowers. They remain open to the softly falling dew, but shut upon the violent downpour of rain."
--Jean Paul Richter
_
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Friday, May 27, 2005
Random Acts of Poetry
Random Acts of Poetry
Psalm to the Night
The dark is my refuge; it hides me well.
It whispers strange advice about moths and ink:
thoughts spinning webs full of ornate secrets
and sleek lies, like soft fur.
It tastes of moon powder or dry milk, smells like the rain-soaked earth
and coffee grounds. Planets fill the sky with holy sequins,
so many tiny mirrors, bright and indifferent; I am made of dark matter.
Cold fingers massage my limbs as the hours drift by like slow ghosts, and I shiver
and do not sleep. I welcome no morning when life hurts.
Shadows offer safety from buzzing tubes of laboratory light
and shelter the candle flame still flickering within.
_
Psalm to the Night
The dark is my refuge; it hides me well.
It whispers strange advice about moths and ink:
thoughts spinning webs full of ornate secrets
and sleek lies, like soft fur.
It tastes of moon powder or dry milk, smells like the rain-soaked earth
and coffee grounds. Planets fill the sky with holy sequins,
so many tiny mirrors, bright and indifferent; I am made of dark matter.
Cold fingers massage my limbs as the hours drift by like slow ghosts, and I shiver
and do not sleep. I welcome no morning when life hurts.
Shadows offer safety from buzzing tubes of laboratory light
and shelter the candle flame still flickering within.
_
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Like, what? Beatnik play discovered
Beat me
I've never read much Jack Kerouac--just The Dharma Bums and The Subterraneans--but I read recently that a lost play by him has been discovered in a dusty warehouse in this very city. The title is--what a surprise--Beat Generation, and it will be published in October. "It details a day in the drink and drug-fuelled life of Kerouac's alter ego, Jack Duluoz," according to the BBC. I look forward to reading it, or seeing it performed, as I have some affection for the Beats. Just about everything in recent history that could conceivably be called countercultural can be traced back to them, I suppose: rap, punk, "spoken word" in all its permutations. When I read something at the local open mic, I'm conforming to some kind of, like, beat stereotype, I suppose--me with my goatee and black jeans. So it goes on. The beat goes on. Ughh. Now I won't get that stupid song out of my head all afternoon . . .
_
I've never read much Jack Kerouac--just The Dharma Bums and The Subterraneans--but I read recently that a lost play by him has been discovered in a dusty warehouse in this very city. The title is--what a surprise--Beat Generation, and it will be published in October. "It details a day in the drink and drug-fuelled life of Kerouac's alter ego, Jack Duluoz," according to the BBC. I look forward to reading it, or seeing it performed, as I have some affection for the Beats. Just about everything in recent history that could conceivably be called countercultural can be traced back to them, I suppose: rap, punk, "spoken word" in all its permutations. When I read something at the local open mic, I'm conforming to some kind of, like, beat stereotype, I suppose--me with my goatee and black jeans. So it goes on. The beat goes on. Ughh. Now I won't get that stupid song out of my head all afternoon . . .
_
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Quote of the Day: When the President Talks to God
Quote of the Day
"When the president talks to God
Are the conversations brief or long?
Does he ask to rape our women's' rights
And send poor farm kids off to die?
Does God suggest an oil hike
When the president talks to God?
....
When the president talks to God
Does he fake that drawl or merely nod?
Agree which convicts should be killed?
Where prisons should be built and filled?
Which voter fraud must be concealed
When the president talks to God?"
--Conor Oberst, "When the President Talks to God"
Well, Dylan he's not. But this song was performed on The Tonight Show (!) earlier this month. Who says no one is writing protest songs today?
You can read the complete lyrics and download the song for free at: onegoodmove: When the President Talks to God
_
"When the president talks to God
Are the conversations brief or long?
Does he ask to rape our women's' rights
And send poor farm kids off to die?
Does God suggest an oil hike
When the president talks to God?
....
When the president talks to God
Does he fake that drawl or merely nod?
Agree which convicts should be killed?
Where prisons should be built and filled?
Which voter fraud must be concealed
When the president talks to God?"
--Conor Oberst, "When the President Talks to God"
Well, Dylan he's not. But this song was performed on The Tonight Show (!) earlier this month. Who says no one is writing protest songs today?
You can read the complete lyrics and download the song for free at: onegoodmove: When the President Talks to God
_
Monday, May 23, 2005
Word of the Day
Word of the Day
amyloid (adj)
containing or relating to starch; starchy
"These shirts are too amyloid!" exclaimed Dr. Klaxon. The laundry staff looked mystified.
_
amyloid (adj)
containing or relating to starch; starchy
"These shirts are too amyloid!" exclaimed Dr. Klaxon. The laundry staff looked mystified.
_
Friday, May 20, 2005
Connections: packing a "weapon"
Connections
Seen on the street today: a curly haired little girl in a pink party dress, maybe 4 or 5 years old, waving a green "light saber" at everyone she passed and wearing a big smile. I hope she wasn't a sith. It reminded me of my son dressing up in plastic (knight in shining) armor a few years ago and waving a toy sword at people in the local park. They either laughed, which annoyed him, or pretended to be terrified . . . I often wonder how many people--adults--are walking around with real weapons. Apparently, in Florida, you don't need a license or permit to carry a handgun, unless it is concealed. And a new law there allows gun owners to use deadly force against perceived attackers, even if they have the ability to flee. According to the Washington Post, "prosecutors must automatically presume that would-be victims feared for their lives if attacked." Incredible. I've never carried a weapon, unless you consider a pen knife to be one. (They sure do at airports.) I did have a cap gun when I was a kid, though, and enjoyed firing it at other callow cowboys. I think I was on the Dark Side then.
_
Seen on the street today: a curly haired little girl in a pink party dress, maybe 4 or 5 years old, waving a green "light saber" at everyone she passed and wearing a big smile. I hope she wasn't a sith. It reminded me of my son dressing up in plastic (knight in shining) armor a few years ago and waving a toy sword at people in the local park. They either laughed, which annoyed him, or pretended to be terrified . . . I often wonder how many people--adults--are walking around with real weapons. Apparently, in Florida, you don't need a license or permit to carry a handgun, unless it is concealed. And a new law there allows gun owners to use deadly force against perceived attackers, even if they have the ability to flee. According to the Washington Post, "prosecutors must automatically presume that would-be victims feared for their lives if attacked." Incredible. I've never carried a weapon, unless you consider a pen knife to be one. (They sure do at airports.) I did have a cap gun when I was a kid, though, and enjoyed firing it at other callow cowboys. I think I was on the Dark Side then.
_
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Stupid Star Wars Humor
Attack of the Groans
"A tremor in the underpants. The last time I felt this was in the presence of my old master."
Could lines from classic Star Wars films be improved by substituting the word underpants?
_
"A tremor in the underpants. The last time I felt this was in the presence of my old master."
Could lines from classic Star Wars films be improved by substituting the word underpants?
_
Photoshop Beatles 1962-70
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Wrong Number
Wrong Number
The phone rang at 5 AM. My wife answered, since the phone is on her side of the bed, but it woke both of us. The side of the conversation I heard consisted entirely of questions like "Who are you?" "Who are you trying to reach?" and "Why are you calling?" -- each repeated a couple of times. It seemed to go on and on. I couldn't decide, in my groggy state, if it was a wrong number or not. "Who was that?" I mumbled after my wife finally hung up. "The U.S. Army," she said. "Somebody with a heavy accent. They said they were coming to pick me up." "Oh, great," I said. "They're shipping you to Iraq. They're not even waiting for people to sign up anymore." Obviously, a wrong number. I went back to sleep, but not before wondering who it was they were really calling. I imagined some kid waiting out there in the pre-sunrise dark, nervous about embarking on a journey with no guarantee of a return ticket.
_
The phone rang at 5 AM. My wife answered, since the phone is on her side of the bed, but it woke both of us. The side of the conversation I heard consisted entirely of questions like "Who are you?" "Who are you trying to reach?" and "Why are you calling?" -- each repeated a couple of times. It seemed to go on and on. I couldn't decide, in my groggy state, if it was a wrong number or not. "Who was that?" I mumbled after my wife finally hung up. "The U.S. Army," she said. "Somebody with a heavy accent. They said they were coming to pick me up." "Oh, great," I said. "They're shipping you to Iraq. They're not even waiting for people to sign up anymore." Obviously, a wrong number. I went back to sleep, but not before wondering who it was they were really calling. I imagined some kid waiting out there in the pre-sunrise dark, nervous about embarking on a journey with no guarantee of a return ticket.
_
Monday, May 16, 2005
Word of the Day
Word of the Day
aboulomania (n)
pathological indecisiveness
Chocolate or strawberry? Cursing his aboulomania, Sylvester continued to stare at the ice-cream parlor's menu.
_
aboulomania (n)
pathological indecisiveness
Chocolate or strawberry? Cursing his aboulomania, Sylvester continued to stare at the ice-cream parlor's menu.
_
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Random Acts of Poetry
Random Acts of Poetry
Child
She knew she could
give form to him,
a stalwart silhouette,
even a uniform,
and teach him
all the proper movements.
He would be her diamond,
brilliant and fortunate:
a gift waiting to be opened.
She slept at night
with the shining heart
of a tiny sovereign
beating in her body,
feeling a small wheel
kneading her loaf of desire
as it rose in her belly.
She dreamt
He would be a dancer on a rope,
high above death,
till her fine line was gone.
He would laugh, then cry out,
but wear a sober face,
like some dead
president on a coin.
_
Child
She knew she could
give form to him,
a stalwart silhouette,
even a uniform,
and teach him
all the proper movements.
He would be her diamond,
brilliant and fortunate:
a gift waiting to be opened.
She slept at night
with the shining heart
of a tiny sovereign
beating in her body,
feeling a small wheel
kneading her loaf of desire
as it rose in her belly.
She dreamt
He would be a dancer on a rope,
high above death,
till her fine line was gone.
He would laugh, then cry out,
but wear a sober face,
like some dead
president on a coin.
_
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
