I just woke from a nap, and I had a strange and beautiful dream. I was sitting at a table in a very old, very grand library, and an old man seated nearby was explaining, with a thick Spanish accent, the nature of the library to another man. He said that it was a collection of miracles. He said, "listen closely to what I am about to read to you", and then he reached forward and pressed the "record" button on a cassette machine before him.
I don't remember exactly how it went went, but it was a short prose poem about the return of Jesus Christ.
"...and as He strode across the sky He was followed by His cats great and small, first black and brown, then grey, then white, and then red and blue and oh! every color, and together they boiled and surged down through the cool evening air and into the cool turquoise water and then they dwindled, faded, into darkness."
The old man says to the second man, "well, what do you think of that?" and the second man says (and I'm thinking the same thing) "well, it's not doggerel, but it's not great either, certainly nothing miraculous."
The old man reaches forward and presses "stop" on the cassette machine, and then presses "rewind". The tapes hisses backward to a stop. The old man says "the miracle isn't about how good or bad you might think this poem is, the miracle is that you understood it". He presses "play" and the machine repeats his performance as he reads us the poem in it's original Spanish.
"... y mientras caminaba a través del cielo Él fue seguido por sus gatos grandes y pequeños, en primer lugar negro y marrón, gris, entonces, luego blanco, y rojo y azul, y oh! todos los colores, y juntos subieron hasta hervir y por el aire fresco de la noche y en el agua turquesa enfriar y luego se redujo, se desvaneció, en la oscuridad."
Friday, November 11, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Maude Lebowski: What do you do for recreation?
The Dude: Oh, the usual. I bowl. Drive around. The occasional acid flashback.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Books
so they say only good wine leaves a stain
on the shirts put aside for memorable days
and your father never warned you about my habits
like my penchant for bad magazines and video games
they're the easiest problems to recognise
i'm the books you're tired of reading; stories all the same
and the mess between the covers never change
all these moments caught in paragraphs and frames
fade like perfumed lovers' clothes left out in the rain
all the change that's been collecting in my pockets
spent on gumballs, fake tattoos and gold plastic lockets
they're the everyday treasures you demonise
i'm the books you're tired of reading, stories all the same
and the mess between the covers never change
and the lights you don't want to turn off burn out all the same
and you'll stumble into the same walls, again and again
"Books", Rolf Klausener
on the shirts put aside for memorable days
and your father never warned you about my habits
like my penchant for bad magazines and video games
they're the easiest problems to recognise
i'm the books you're tired of reading; stories all the same
and the mess between the covers never change
all these moments caught in paragraphs and frames
fade like perfumed lovers' clothes left out in the rain
all the change that's been collecting in my pockets
spent on gumballs, fake tattoos and gold plastic lockets
they're the everyday treasures you demonise
i'm the books you're tired of reading, stories all the same
and the mess between the covers never change
and the lights you don't want to turn off burn out all the same
and you'll stumble into the same walls, again and again
"Books", Rolf Klausener
A WOMAN'S POEM:
Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man who's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong.
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's rich and self-employed,
And when I spend, won't be annoyed.
Pull out my chair and hold my hand.
Massage my feet and help me stand.
Oh send a king to make me queen.
A man who loves to cook and clean.
I pray this man will love no other.
And relish visits with my mother.
A MAN'S POEM:
I pray for a deaf-mute gymnast nymphomaniac with big tits who owns a bar on a golf course, and loves to send me fishing and drinking. This doesn't rhyme and I don't give a shit.
Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man who's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong.
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's rich and self-employed,
And when I spend, won't be annoyed.
Pull out my chair and hold my hand.
Massage my feet and help me stand.
Oh send a king to make me queen.
A man who loves to cook and clean.
I pray this man will love no other.
And relish visits with my mother.
A MAN'S POEM:
I pray for a deaf-mute gymnast nymphomaniac with big tits who owns a bar on a golf course, and loves to send me fishing and drinking. This doesn't rhyme and I don't give a shit.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Community Season 2, Episode 13
Community seems to be turning into The Annie Edison Show. I'm OK with that, I have a huge crush on Alison Brie, but it made for a weak episode this time. I do like that Annie lives above "Dildopolis", though. Really, I just wanted to post this cap.
A squirrel is spying on me
Hello campers! I'm back, for at least a brief while. I thought you might be interested to know about the squirrel the lives in my backyard and spies on me all the time. Seriously, it seems like every time I walk past a window this squirrel is sitting just outside watching me. He usually has a snack with him, like an acorn, or a winter-withered crabapple. I am his entertainment.
When I'm in the kitchen he's right outside on the patio railing, when I go to my bedroom he climbs up the tree and perches where he can get a good look at what's going on. If I go up the third floor I occasionally hear the clip-clop of tiny hooves (squirrels have hooves, right?) and look up to see him planted right in the middle of the skylight, showing off his gnarbls. Actually, I'm a little afraid of him.
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