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Oct. 2nd, 2011
No cats out there, which isn't so strange in itself, but there was also an appreciable bit of food left on the plate, and I didn't put out that much. They should've finished it easily.
Incidentally, it's a shade cooler. We're reading 65 degrees, which is the coolest I've seen yet.
Incidentally, it's a shade cooler. We're reading 65 degrees, which is the coolest I've seen yet.
cake and coke again
Oct. 2nd, 2011 08:35 amI cannot believe myself. After cheating yesterday and enjoying a three-coke day, I decided to skip the cereal and go with the cake and coke again.
Okay, this isn't terribly surprising, but I am sooo asking for it.
I guess I am kind of depressed, seeing my poetry aspirations fall apart again. Now I see that the only way I can ever care to try my own poetry is if I lose easy access to computers and the Internet, in which case book-blogging would be lost to me, since I need some serious word-processing facility to make that work, with all that typing of book-text. And, of course, I would need something more than just reading books. And I don't think simply journaling with pen and paper will be able to do it for me anymore. Then would be the time for shitty poetry.
Okay, this isn't terribly surprising, but I am sooo asking for it.
I guess I am kind of depressed, seeing my poetry aspirations fall apart again. Now I see that the only way I can ever care to try my own poetry is if I lose easy access to computers and the Internet, in which case book-blogging would be lost to me, since I need some serious word-processing facility to make that work, with all that typing of book-text. And, of course, I would need something more than just reading books. And I don't think simply journaling with pen and paper will be able to do it for me anymore. Then would be the time for shitty poetry.
"Into the Void"
Oct. 2nd, 2011 09:50 amI cannot believe the TV critic gave "Into the Void" three stars. It's practically porno and with a lot of sleaziness, even if it does have that high-brow existentialist angst about the absurdity of life.
Not that I'm complaining. I would hope this is a sign of things to come. It's just funny. Maybe he was more impressed because it was a Sundance offering, and so he wants to demonstrate that he appreciates art.
Not that I'm complaining. I would hope this is a sign of things to come. It's just funny. Maybe he was more impressed because it was a Sundance offering, and so he wants to demonstrate that he appreciates art.
June 1, 2003, Sunday, 1357
Oct. 2nd, 2011 10:59 amMonk takes a break from his novel. He falls onto the bed in the corner of the theater. Monk hates this heavy-headed wooziness that is part of his life, feeling certain that it isn't normal -- the way it keeps his energy-level real low, keeping him down. Simple Tree shouts for him from behind the door in the kitchen. He returned last night. Monk picks himself up and goes after him, thinking that it's the computer, smirking that maybe he forgot again how to call a program up from the tray, even after being reminded again last night.
It's not about the computer. Tree is washing his clothes before he has to go back to work tomorrow. The washing machine and dryer are in a cut-out room through the theater. He wants to pour in some softener in the machine. Tree is very happy and triumphant that he timed it perfectly, as the machine had just begun the rinse cycle. Monk says, "When you do something enough times, you develop a real knack for it."
Pop nods and smiles broadly, "Yeah!" Monk says, "When you first started doing this, it would have been impossible." Monk is referring to when Stormy Dreamer was alive and doing the clothes for him, and Tree laughs nodding.
When Monk closes the door behind him, he sees that Pi and Daimon are there. Pi is smiling, "It's not as nice as it was, is it? No longer having the freedom of the house."
Monk shakes his head, "No, it's not. It's especially annoying not having unfettered access to the computer, even if my Blurty life is no longer what it once was, however briefly."
Daimon casts a knowing sardonic smile, "As you know, there wouldn't be a computer if it weren't for him. Indeed, you wouldn't have a home."
Monk brushes past him, "Nor a pot to piss in. I know, I know!"
Pi changes the subject, "What was that about when he shouted for you last night? Before that business about how to use the trays."
Monk is sitting on the dresser, getting ready to dive back into the concluding chapters of the book, "He wanted to show me Raymond's obituary on the Port Lavaca paper's website." Monk shakes his head, "I have a hard time believing how special he thinks that is. I didn't look at it that carefully. Maybe it had his name in it."
Pi pouts, "Ah, I think it's sweet!"
Monk nods, "I know."
===============
October 2, 2011
Simple indeed. A bit of the child. At least there is a sweetness in his nature, if a bit overly ego-centric, selfish. At least he is not heavyhandedly brutish.
It's not about the computer. Tree is washing his clothes before he has to go back to work tomorrow. The washing machine and dryer are in a cut-out room through the theater. He wants to pour in some softener in the machine. Tree is very happy and triumphant that he timed it perfectly, as the machine had just begun the rinse cycle. Monk says, "When you do something enough times, you develop a real knack for it."
Pop nods and smiles broadly, "Yeah!" Monk says, "When you first started doing this, it would have been impossible." Monk is referring to when Stormy Dreamer was alive and doing the clothes for him, and Tree laughs nodding.
When Monk closes the door behind him, he sees that Pi and Daimon are there. Pi is smiling, "It's not as nice as it was, is it? No longer having the freedom of the house."
Monk shakes his head, "No, it's not. It's especially annoying not having unfettered access to the computer, even if my Blurty life is no longer what it once was, however briefly."
Daimon casts a knowing sardonic smile, "As you know, there wouldn't be a computer if it weren't for him. Indeed, you wouldn't have a home."
Monk brushes past him, "Nor a pot to piss in. I know, I know!"
Pi changes the subject, "What was that about when he shouted for you last night? Before that business about how to use the trays."
Monk is sitting on the dresser, getting ready to dive back into the concluding chapters of the book, "He wanted to show me Raymond's obituary on the Port Lavaca paper's website." Monk shakes his head, "I have a hard time believing how special he thinks that is. I didn't look at it that carefully. Maybe it had his name in it."
Pi pouts, "Ah, I think it's sweet!"
Monk nods, "I know."
===============
October 2, 2011
Simple indeed. A bit of the child. At least there is a sweetness in his nature, if a bit overly ego-centric, selfish. At least he is not heavyhandedly brutish.
Still itching on that jailbait theme, I actually checked out Stickam... lord, how long has it been? I remember checking it out on the laptop, about when we first got it, and that was it. How long have we had the laptop? It couldn't be that long, I guess. Anyway, I don't have the patience to fish out something a little edgey on there.
Ah, To Be Tone-Deaf and Dumb
Oct. 2nd, 2011 02:12 pmI cannot even tell in this guide-to-poetry book
the stressed and attention-whoring syllable
from the unstressed and easy-going bloke,
much less glean the way of that half and half fellow,
the ambiguous, bi-textual secondary stress -
and just forget about stresses versus beats!
Obviously, if I should ever feel so giddy and artsy
to versify and write as if my words should be sung,
I will have to trudge along on limping blank verse,
unmetered, unrhymed, unmusical, unimmortal and blah,
with my all resting on just the cut of the line -
how I break a sentence and stuff a clause
or leave a word or two dangling along and clanging
and failing, and always failing...
-- e. e. monk
the stressed and attention-whoring syllable
from the unstressed and easy-going bloke,
much less glean the way of that half and half fellow,
the ambiguous, bi-textual secondary stress -
and just forget about stresses versus beats!
Obviously, if I should ever feel so giddy and artsy
to versify and write as if my words should be sung,
I will have to trudge along on limping blank verse,
unmetered, unrhymed, unmusical, unimmortal and blah,
with my all resting on just the cut of the line -
how I break a sentence and stuff a clause
or leave a word or two dangling along and clanging
and failing, and always failing...
-- e. e. monk
June 1, 2003, Sunday, 1938
Oct. 2nd, 2011 05:31 pmMonk claps the little hardback shut and slaps it down on the dresser, hopping up on the dresser himself and taking up his cup of ice water. Pi says, "Wow, that was pretty nice. Very romantic."
Monk swallows some water, "I enjoyed it. A nice little read."
Daimon asks, "Would you call it a 're-readable'?"
Monk shrugs, "I think that I would re-read it sometime. It's not a book that I would read every year or so. But I can see myself picking it up again in another three or five years, when I'm in the mood for a tortured love affair -- and a lot of deep brooding."
Pi pouts, "What didn't you like about it? Don't you love the bluesiness? The dark humor? All that romantic longing?"
Monk says, "I guess that I didn't think that it was dark enough. I think that Swift went out of his way in drawing the platonic romance between George and Sarah. An essential premise to the story is that George falls so deep in love with Sarah that he waits ten years for her to finish her prison sentence. I just don't find it believable. I mean, he is supposed to fall that deep in love with her because of her knees!?" Monk holds his arms out in incredulity.
Daimon chortles, "Now, Monk, you should know as well anyone what a woman's knees can do to a man!"
Monk shakes his head snickering, "No, I at least need some thighs. Actually, a pretty good helping of thighs."
Pi playfully stomps about, "Seriously, I think that idealism is what makes the book great. I don't think that Swift went out of his way. I think that's the point. That platonic relationship really stands out against all the other sordid relationships that make up the narrative. All the other relationships in the book are of that REALISTIC quality, with people just getting what they can like dumb animals. Here at the center of the book, you have this pure love affair between the protagonist and Sarah. Against that sordid backdrop, this love affair brilliantly shines in all its aching beauty."
Monk drops his head smirking, "I'm not surprised by that. It is more of a woman's book. But, yeah, it was a nice little read. I said that I would probably re-read it . . . sometime. Just not very soon." Pi frowns, folding her arms across her chest.
Daimon asks, "Are you set on another book for next weekend?"
Monk shrugs, "Not really. I was thinking about re-visiting Dostoevsky's "Demons." It's been a while since I've dived into his work. But I'm not sure. I'm about to begin Shelby Foote's "Civil War." In the interest of getting through that majestic trilogy with some expedition, I'm thinking about collapsing my reading routine, maybe reading him on both weekdays and weekends, or at least spending some weekends on it. I won't know until I begin it. If it's pretty heavy going, then I'll keep it for weekday reading. You know how much I like to keep my weekends fun."
Pi shouts, "Yeah, FUN, yeay!!!" She holds her arms out in victory, her tits welcoming.
===============
October 2, 2011
"Light of Day" again. I think I have mentioned it much more than it deserves. But I was basically right. It was a bit over five years, but I did come back to it, and enjoyed it like a good first-time read. I don't think I'll be reading it again though. In fact, I hope never to mention it again.
Monk swallows some water, "I enjoyed it. A nice little read."
Daimon asks, "Would you call it a 're-readable'?"
Monk shrugs, "I think that I would re-read it sometime. It's not a book that I would read every year or so. But I can see myself picking it up again in another three or five years, when I'm in the mood for a tortured love affair -- and a lot of deep brooding."
Pi pouts, "What didn't you like about it? Don't you love the bluesiness? The dark humor? All that romantic longing?"
Monk says, "I guess that I didn't think that it was dark enough. I think that Swift went out of his way in drawing the platonic romance between George and Sarah. An essential premise to the story is that George falls so deep in love with Sarah that he waits ten years for her to finish her prison sentence. I just don't find it believable. I mean, he is supposed to fall that deep in love with her because of her knees!?" Monk holds his arms out in incredulity.
Daimon chortles, "Now, Monk, you should know as well anyone what a woman's knees can do to a man!"
Monk shakes his head snickering, "No, I at least need some thighs. Actually, a pretty good helping of thighs."
Pi playfully stomps about, "Seriously, I think that idealism is what makes the book great. I don't think that Swift went out of his way. I think that's the point. That platonic relationship really stands out against all the other sordid relationships that make up the narrative. All the other relationships in the book are of that REALISTIC quality, with people just getting what they can like dumb animals. Here at the center of the book, you have this pure love affair between the protagonist and Sarah. Against that sordid backdrop, this love affair brilliantly shines in all its aching beauty."
Monk drops his head smirking, "I'm not surprised by that. It is more of a woman's book. But, yeah, it was a nice little read. I said that I would probably re-read it . . . sometime. Just not very soon." Pi frowns, folding her arms across her chest.
Daimon asks, "Are you set on another book for next weekend?"
Monk shrugs, "Not really. I was thinking about re-visiting Dostoevsky's "Demons." It's been a while since I've dived into his work. But I'm not sure. I'm about to begin Shelby Foote's "Civil War." In the interest of getting through that majestic trilogy with some expedition, I'm thinking about collapsing my reading routine, maybe reading him on both weekdays and weekends, or at least spending some weekends on it. I won't know until I begin it. If it's pretty heavy going, then I'll keep it for weekday reading. You know how much I like to keep my weekends fun."
Pi shouts, "Yeah, FUN, yeay!!!" She holds her arms out in victory, her tits welcoming.
===============
October 2, 2011
"Light of Day" again. I think I have mentioned it much more than it deserves. But I was basically right. It was a bit over five years, but I did come back to it, and enjoyed it like a good first-time read. I don't think I'll be reading it again though. In fact, I hope never to mention it again.
that book on poetic rhythm
Oct. 2nd, 2011 06:07 pmI fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up...
I paid over thirty dollars for that book on poetic rhythm. And I understood that it was going to be about scansion and counting stresses and all of that, but having it in my hands, I see it as another technical manual that just glazes my eyes and doesn't even get read. I'm just skimming it now, having spent this much and hoped this high.
Though, it has gotten me centered more about what to expect with blank verse, which was entirely incidental, a passing aside, before going on to the real stuff, the poetry that dances and sings.
Still, I am thinking of blank verse as highly conscious prose-writing, and that may be very useful to me. And, to be sure, I would do what little I can to jazz it up, being at least mindful about rhythm as well as the balance in my sentences, the weight of my clauses, and maybe keep an eye out for rhyme-seeming sound, to give it a little musicality.
I paid over thirty dollars for that book on poetic rhythm. And I understood that it was going to be about scansion and counting stresses and all of that, but having it in my hands, I see it as another technical manual that just glazes my eyes and doesn't even get read. I'm just skimming it now, having spent this much and hoped this high.
Though, it has gotten me centered more about what to expect with blank verse, which was entirely incidental, a passing aside, before going on to the real stuff, the poetry that dances and sings.
Still, I am thinking of blank verse as highly conscious prose-writing, and that may be very useful to me. And, to be sure, I would do what little I can to jazz it up, being at least mindful about rhythm as well as the balance in my sentences, the weight of my clauses, and maybe keep an eye out for rhyme-seeming sound, to give it a little musicality.
library trip tomorrow
Oct. 2nd, 2011 06:56 pmI got the green light for my library trip tomorrow, the first of the new season. I asked Pop if I could count on his five dollars, since I am running that thin on money after getting that poetry book, and he gave me ten dollars.
I still have my beard and mustache, but I'm thinking I can take care of it tonight easily enough. I even have finished with Sully's posts already. I have the whole evening.
I still have my beard and mustache, but I'm thinking I can take care of it tonight easily enough. I even have finished with Sully's posts already. I have the whole evening.
the next-door neighbor
Oct. 2nd, 2011 08:45 pmWhat is the next-door neighbor doing with the dog. For some time, it has sounded a bit rough, like he is training the dog to be mean.
Is it just a coincidece that the dog no longer wants his snack, though the dog still comes to the fence and is friendly, even sweeter than before, and it's like the dog still wants something, but what can it be? I've even brought cheese that was ignored in turn.
Is it just a coincidece that the dog no longer wants his snack, though the dog still comes to the fence and is friendly, even sweeter than before, and it's like the dog still wants something, but what can it be? I've even brought cheese that was ignored in turn.
my first trip downtown
Oct. 2nd, 2011 09:40 pmShaved as well as showered. It is usually a bigger deal, if not quite like the butterfly breaking free of the chrysalis, at least a little like a snake shedding its skin. But my first shave only feels like I'm already in the middle of a long routine. Is this because I no longer have the least expectation of looking good with my relatively smooth face? Maybe my face has finally become simply a fact of life, and a falling, fading fact at that.
Regardless, I am still anxious and excited about my first trip downtown and my first dish of chicken fried rice, like I'm an eager undergraduate going to his first real job interview. It's never an easy thing for me to leave the house, much less travel across town. It is always an uncertain trail through the wilds full of perils and traffic and muggers. Nevertheless, even if money and romance are not out there for me, there is still the shiny lure of new books and better food.
Regardless, I am still anxious and excited about my first trip downtown and my first dish of chicken fried rice, like I'm an eager undergraduate going to his first real job interview. It's never an easy thing for me to leave the house, much less travel across town. It is always an uncertain trail through the wilds full of perils and traffic and muggers. Nevertheless, even if money and romance are not out there for me, there is still the shiny lure of new books and better food.