Catchy

Hey there, all...

Here's a nifty link I've been directed to. I really liked it, so I'm going to post it here.

http://www.ericblumrich.com/idiot.html

I'm probably going to get a lot of flak for this, but whatever. People made fun of Clinton and the world survived, so viva la free speech! :) Not really meant to be taken as a thought-provoking diatribe, and the songwriting definitely leaves something to be desired, but damned if that hook ain't catchy! :) Exactly what you expect of a punk song.

Poem: Stumbling Over Sarah

I felt like being tragic.

Overall, I'm kind of happy with it, though there are a lot of things that need changing. The third stanza is almost completely bunk, but eh...I've been having problems with ending poems well.

****************************
Stumbling Over Sarah

"Sarah!"
He screamed this over and over
on the corner of Allendale and West,
startling the early morning joggers who circled around him
because he made them uncomfortable.
He kept screaming until he lost his voice
and then he whispered, over and over,
until the street got dark and his sob-like shivers
took the form of words from him.
Then, he thought her name, over and over,
incanting a summons he half-thought, half-dreamed
she would answer.
But she never came.
Later, after he had been visited by dew
and the sunlight relieved the streetlamps,
after his legs did not feel frozen anymore,
he stumbled across the sunrise,
wiping away some saliva that had collected on his chin.

Eating did not exist anymore
and the diner he stumbled into was a carnival
of life and sound and autumn grease
that had been something alien for the past few months.
Here, coffee was made for watching cream cloud
and eggs were made for getting cold
because they achieved a texture that held his attention.
Sometimes he would imagine meeting her all over again
in this very same booth
and he would think, "Ah, a girl who gets those jokes!"
and "She hunts for hallucinations in the sunrise, too!"
and her hair would be so beautiful under cold sun and diner-lights;
she would remind him of his favorite sweater
and it would hurt so bad
he woulc catch himself crying and wanting to curl,
and his stomach would tell him
"You shouldn't have tried that egg."
At last, he would admit defeat
and stumble once more to sleep off a hangover
that just stayed with him.

His world was one of microvision,
a scent of oranges in a dumpster
or a flash of lint on green fabric.
Each had its monsters and its meaning,
more than he bargained for,
all parading down his head until the vertigo came
and he felt drunk once more.
These things dogged him until he was weary
and some more until his throat was cracked
and still more until none of that mattered:
he would run and they would chase him,
and that was the way of things.
Once in a while, his feet would take him back
to Allendale and West,
where a window shade held a forbidden oasis.
Once in a while, he incanted her name
and she would never come.
And he would stumble, and stumble, and stumble...

I'm Going to Wichita

Hey there, all...

Zen Comics 2 came into the Bookshop today...guess who snatched it up before it even made the shelves? I feel vaguely guilty, for some reason. :)

Almost cried on the bus stop today while reading Steppenwolf. Harry Haller has a moment where everything comes together and he is truly, joyously happy. It was beautiful. Hesse has now joined Peter Beagle and Ray Bradbury as my favorite authors. More on that later.

So I finally got my comics fix for the month; Morrison and Audley(?) turned in subpar efforts on New X-Men and Uncanny X-Men respectively, but I guess off months are allowed. Cyclops was shaping up to be pretty interesting before he started having this whole mental breakdown thing, though.

Anywho, Fables came through in a pretty big way. The second chapter of "Storybook Love" offered quite a few surprises, and I was very pleased with it. One of the best were saved for the end, when the comic *really* started getting a surreal, fairy-tale groove. :)

Basically, Snow White and Bigby Wolf (get it, Bigby...heh, never mind. :)) woke up from an enchantment placed on them in the middle of the woods. They hurry to their car, get a blowout and crash. Snow makes it out OK, but Bigby takes a broken arm. He makes Snow White set it, shifts into wolf form and pretty much runs the show from then on.

I never quite got what people saw in wolves. I mean, they're *nice*, I do like them, but I never saw the extra oomph that made people fall in love with them. I think I've got it now, though. :) Bigby is an incredible character; cautious, but decisive, cunning and quick. He carefully considers just about everything he can before making a decision, and once he's made it, that's it. He's got his shit together. The clincher comes when Snow White settles in on his back (in wolf form, he's the size of a large pony); he says, "Hold on tight, Snow; there's no way you can possibly hurt me."

My knees buckled. :)

Apparently, for the past few months Bigby has been coming on to Snow pretty hard, and she wants explanations. So, here she is, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by an enormous wolf who's getting set to tell her a good old-fashioned fairy tale by the end of the issue. I can't wait for next month. :D

I also talked about Hemingway and Shakespeare with a wolf before work this morning, and that...helped. :) There's something about macrophiles who are passionate about books that's intimidating and alluring all at the same time. <:) Anywho, that's it for me, I promise; dinner with some guys after work, and more than likely I'm going to start editing "Donna" when I get home. Oh, and see about what's going down with Mustsy.