Shaped like a disc,
you can eat it crisp.
Shaped like a torpedo,
eat it soft like Play-Doh.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
The air keeps threatening to have a truly seasonal crispness. It's like being in the company of a teasing flirt that you're really not sure you want to go home with. I'm reading old blog posts and basho and pointedly not packing for tomorrow. I've decided that's what mornings are for. Over the river, through the woods to grandmother's house. I am now the keeper of the sleigh in that story.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
methods of accretion of wisdom, or something like it.
Now do you realize
the hand that holds the knife
also scars?
What pains at night whisper
of coming storms?
the hand that holds the knife
also scars?
What pains at night whisper
of coming storms?
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Bearwulf
It's Big Game Week, the week when Stanford and Berkeley battle. This poem was written to the Eulogy for Bearial, the annual event when a teddy bear is impaled on a statue after a rewritten poem is read aloud.
Some things to know:
In ancient days, a thriving land
lay East of Eden, Big and Bountiful
Unspoiled by civilization, free of care and culture.
Then Oski came. That scourge of the scholar
that duke of the dumb, that lord of the loser
that hater of the holy, that flea-ridden fucker.
The bear built a giant university
that taught mapmaking and library science, general studies and evil.
And not just evil, but remedial evil.
For years it grew, sucking more souls
into its web of mediocrity and lies.
(And to this day, is free of culture.)
Enough was enough. It had to be stopped.
Our scene now shifts to Stanford University.
Home of our hero, who would take back that town!
He wore a shirt of silver with glints of gold.
And armed himself with a sometimes-stolen Axe
that once was his, and now is his
and will be his forevermore.
His name was Bearwulf, Killer of Bears.
He trekked to that temple of Ignorance and Idiots
called University of California, Berkeley Campus.
He yawped to that beast, "now Oski, you slut,
you mangy old mutt, your time is up."
The bear snarled and sneered and drew back his lip.
He leapt at our hero and the battle began.
Bearwulf attacked, and let fly his axe.
He swung and he chopped as the bear clawed and chewed.
His armor held strong, but the bear showed no signs
of wounds he'd inflicted. Then the bear bragged,
"I'm magic, bitch! No weapons can hurt me."
That's when Bearwulf knew how he'd beat that bear.
He let fall his axe, and grabbed the brute's arm.
With the strength of a thousand trains, he pulled and he pulled.
The sinews of Oski tried but they failed.
The animal now ended at the shoulder.
Our hero brandished his foe's former arm
and he hacked and he hacked at that amputee bear,
Out flew the guts and goo, the insides of a bear.
He covered himself in ursine blood.
Oski's eyes shut, the townspeople cheered.
Bearwulf rode off as they rejoiced.
His shirt was stained with the blood of the bear
and though he washed and scrubbed, the red remained.
And that's why we wear the Cardinal:
it's the blood of the bears, beaten with their own arms.
Some things to know:
- Berkeley is in the East Bay
- The winner of the annual contest takes possession of the Stanford Axe. Stanford won the last Big Game.
- Stanford's school color is Cardinal.
- Old English Poetry is written in a different style. It cares about accents, not syllable-counting, and about alliteration not rhyme.
In ancient days, a thriving land
lay East of Eden, Big and Bountiful
Unspoiled by civilization, free of care and culture.
Then Oski came. That scourge of the scholar
that duke of the dumb, that lord of the loser
that hater of the holy, that flea-ridden fucker.
The bear built a giant university
that taught mapmaking and library science, general studies and evil.
And not just evil, but remedial evil.
For years it grew, sucking more souls
into its web of mediocrity and lies.
(And to this day, is free of culture.)
Enough was enough. It had to be stopped.
Our scene now shifts to Stanford University.
Home of our hero, who would take back that town!
He wore a shirt of silver with glints of gold.
And armed himself with a sometimes-stolen Axe
that once was his, and now is his
and will be his forevermore.
His name was Bearwulf, Killer of Bears.
He trekked to that temple of Ignorance and Idiots
called University of California, Berkeley Campus.
He yawped to that beast, "now Oski, you slut,
you mangy old mutt, your time is up."
The bear snarled and sneered and drew back his lip.
He leapt at our hero and the battle began.
Bearwulf attacked, and let fly his axe.
He swung and he chopped as the bear clawed and chewed.
His armor held strong, but the bear showed no signs
of wounds he'd inflicted. Then the bear bragged,
"I'm magic, bitch! No weapons can hurt me."
That's when Bearwulf knew how he'd beat that bear.
He let fall his axe, and grabbed the brute's arm.
With the strength of a thousand trains, he pulled and he pulled.
The sinews of Oski tried but they failed.
The animal now ended at the shoulder.
Our hero brandished his foe's former arm
and he hacked and he hacked at that amputee bear,
Out flew the guts and goo, the insides of a bear.
He covered himself in ursine blood.
Oski's eyes shut, the townspeople cheered.
Bearwulf rode off as they rejoiced.
His shirt was stained with the blood of the bear
and though he washed and scrubbed, the red remained.
And that's why we wear the Cardinal:
it's the blood of the bears, beaten with their own arms.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
indoctrination of the young
So, this weekend I introduced Rowan to Jabberwocky. It all started off well enough on Friday, but by Sunday night, he was saying he was afraid of Jabberwocks with a note of true toddler concern. I tried to explain that so long as he had his vorpal sword (an upraised finger), all he had to do was go snicker-snack! (for best effect, should be accompanied with rapidly tracing an 'X' pattern on a small child's stomach. Chortling should result if you do it right.) As he digested this, it turned into 'if you see a Jabberwock, say 'snicker-snack' and then "Go away, Jabberwock!"'. I thought about going into in fact taking the Jabberwock's head, but decided that might cause more problems then it solved, at this point.
Anyway, this conversation went on while putting on pajamas. When we emerged from his bedroom en route to the bathroom for teeth brushing, we charged into the hallway yelling 'Snicker-Snack!' waving fingers in the air. He followed up with 'Go away, Jabberwock!'. He then turned to me, and said 'It burbled as it came, Daddy!'
Anyway, this conversation went on while putting on pajamas. When we emerged from his bedroom en route to the bathroom for teeth brushing, we charged into the hallway yelling 'Snicker-Snack!' waving fingers in the air. He followed up with 'Go away, Jabberwock!'. He then turned to me, and said 'It burbled as it came, Daddy!'
Thursday, November 13, 2008
On how editing a proofread document using Word's Track Changes feature is rather like the internal life of a Republican in this bold new era
Accept change.
Accept change.
Accept change.
Reject change.
Accept change.
Undo.
Accept change.
Accept change.
Accept change.
Accept change.
Reject change.
Accept change.
Undo.
Accept change.
Accept change.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
found food reviews, on lamb testicles at kabob cafe!
Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Found Fiction by Diane Williams: "A Dramatic Classic Leap"
(From her collection, It Was Like My Trying to Have A Tender-Hearted Nature, p59)
Most of my romances are like this, so that I must conclude my behavior produces the poor result.
I present my problem to nearly everyone I know well and there is no solution to my problem. They ask me, "How did that happen?" or they say, "This is not right." They want to talk to me about sex, what I should know about fortune-telling, how to think logically, how to improve my conversation.
I took to fluffing my speech with the details of the day, with some unrelated subjects about my health, my salary, with absolutely worthwhile questions on poetry and art.
I learnt that being partially helpful and light feels as if I am a dear, and, that whatever else I do I expel this.
Most of my romances are like this, so that I must conclude my behavior produces the poor result.
I present my problem to nearly everyone I know well and there is no solution to my problem. They ask me, "How did that happen?" or they say, "This is not right." They want to talk to me about sex, what I should know about fortune-telling, how to think logically, how to improve my conversation.
I took to fluffing my speech with the details of the day, with some unrelated subjects about my health, my salary, with absolutely worthwhile questions on poetry and art.
I learnt that being partially helpful and light feels as if I am a dear, and, that whatever else I do I expel this.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
RBS Lucky #13: Whim Tail
dung, a wee 'lil' hint of daisies and a _lot_ of saccharine Chantilly cream-flavored lollipops that seem to be placed at odd olfactory heights and distances around and across the room.
Oh, and really singed, almost bar-b-q flavor, baby mice hair.
Oh, and really singed, almost bar-b-q flavor, baby mice hair.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
RBS #9
my ride to work
breast milk, grass, hay, horse dung, leather, rotten wood, weed, exhaust, taco, sewage, salt, rubber, steam, nylon
breast milk, grass, hay, horse dung, leather, rotten wood, weed, exhaust, taco, sewage, salt, rubber, steam, nylon
RBS #8
mlk jr. sweat, skin, cotton, cornbread, baton handle rubber, german shepard fur, fire hose water, tear gas, sunshine
RBS #6
Fire Over Los Angeles #1: Outside Burnt trees, smog, car fumes, camillias, fertilizer, honey, and pot smoke.
Fire Over Los Angeles #2: Inside Overloaded air conditioner, stale coffee, sweat, toast, hummus, and a touch of warm laptop cord.
Fire Over Los Angeles #2: Inside Overloaded air conditioner, stale coffee, sweat, toast, hummus, and a touch of warm laptop cord.
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