Man did I rake it in this Christmas. I must admit that I was spoiled this year. I got pretty much everything I asked for. Highlights include a DVD home theater system, new messenger bag, fountain pen ink, and books galore [including cookbooks]. The extended weekend was quite tiring though. I arrived home Christmas Eve around 8, went to Midnight Mass at 11, got up at 6 for presents at home, drove to my aunt’s [arriving at 9:30] for more presents, drove to Fort Wayne the next day to my uncle’s for yet more gift unwrapping [and the purchase of my DVD home theater for 97 bucks] drove back to Noblesville the same day, home to Connersville the next morning, and then back to Cleveland on Sunday. I put near one thousand miles on my traveling count this Christmas. It was all worth it though, I ate plenty of fudge, prime rib, sugar cookies, apple pie, braised ham, butter cookies, vodka tonics, more fudge. I still havent gained any weight. In a few days time, at Stone’s New Years party I will continue to eat things. I’m also going to make a non-alcoholic wassail for the revelers.
I wrote this poem for my mom as a present.
I’d heard nothing but bad about The Last Samurai. I saw it last night and was entertained. What brought it down the most was Tom Cruise. The director, one Mr. Zwick, ended up putting a bit too much emphasis on Cruise, in narration, diegetic dialogue, and photo-montage. I got the distinct impression that the movie was mainly filmed as another chance for Tom Cruise to play dress-up and overcome his own personal demons on the way to conquering some real life baddies. [just like Top Gun, Far and Away, Minority Report, etc.]
The battle sequences were sweet, although the final battle wasn’t quit as epic as it was boring. I can only watch people get mowed down by muzzle-loaders, Gatling guns, and howitzers for so long before I start to yawn. I was most impressed with the performances by the actual Japanese who played samurai. Cruise did a poor job faking an understanding of the Japanese worldview. In typical Hollywood fashion, everything was a dichotomy. This doesn’t work too well when cast into an Asian setting. The clash between incoming Western culture and traditional Japanese way of life does not really come through. Of course, you can see it portrayed but I don’t buy it. Tokyo is modernized but the village Cruise fights for look completely unchanged.
Continue reading “The Last Samurai”
a man with
sits on a bus.
some dirty snow
at his feet
off the bus.
his knee hurts.
a woman with
in a bun
she has seventeen
pet cats — two
today is her birthday.
she is baking them a cake.
a young poet
has no TV
the phone and
he is alone. he
on Monday and
eats the leftovers
rat tracks in
Old Mother Hubbard’s
cupboard. no wonder
the dog left.
hung up all day
goes home to
the phone rings
but its not for her.
three children at play
two are cops.
i am the robber.
a habit is something that is considered rather constant i think. if you do something only once or once in a while then it is not a habit. a habit is something you do all the time — like rubbing a balloon on a cat or throwing toasters at things. my habits constantly change. or perhaps therefore i have no habits. or maybe i only have quasi-habits. Nuns wear habits but i dont have one of those either.
so to make a short story long, when i am not surfing the internet on a regular basis, i cease to surf the internet at all. and when i need to use it, i just use it for vaguely commercial purposes, or for info of whatever species it is that i am not informed of. or i’ll bring my lunch to work for a week and then not eat lunch at work the next week.
my morning habits have been the same for years however.
[excrete, shower, deodorant, dress, drink, brush teeth, rub balloon on cat]
i am a random crazy dorkish jackass son of a bitch [sorry mom] and i deserve to be bludgeoned with a rubber chicken for the things i’ve said and done to those i love. but in the end, any guilt or remorse is useless for all such deeds, and indeed, all deeds after all end in death.
that was a bit morbid. i should go wander into things now.
Continue reading “Habit”
I saw Return of the King [RotK] last night at midnight. I got to bed around 4ish and was at work at 7. I am writing this at approximately 20 past 9 a.m. on 17 December 2003. I am a zombie, so bear with if at times I sound a bit incoherent. There are also probably spoilers ahead.
The movie was damn good. I am most glad that I saw the extended Two Towers before RotK, because the extra fleshing it provided was quite helpful. I won’t delve into the standard huzzahs for the cinematography, CGI renderings, WETA creations and all that. Everyone already knows about how sweet that shit looks. Instead I’ll just touch on the high lows and instances of ‘I gotta think about that before I make a decision.’
Continue reading “Return of the King”
cleveland has been good for the muse. in the approximate month i have been here i have written around 5 poems and have jotted down a ridiculous amount of random things that sound cool. words have begun to lose their meanings for me again, and this is most definitely good, because i’ve to remember what i want them to mean. which doesnt make any sense and doesnt really need to. ive also been o’erwhelmed with new musical inputs. i stream my always and forever favorite radio station 97X WOXY from Oxford, Ohio and write down the random names of random bands that rok in random ways.
i have also discovered several people who are great sources for said input. im wallowing like a pig in shit.
For years, you asked me to write you a poem.
You who gave me life ? I cannot say no any longer ?
but do you know how hard this is?
Try to remember exactly how
I slept warm in your womb ? or the simple way
I brought you tiny fistfuls of wildflowers.
How difficult is it to recall? You taught me
that life is worth living just because it is.
How can I write to you who told me
All of the Things that Begin With M?
You built my character.
How many leaves raked and shovels full of snow
make a big enough pile of Thank You?
The greatest poem I ever heard was your ?I love you.?
For years, you have asked me to write you a poem.
The only one I really know is I love you.