“When the Fish People come,” the General said, “you’ll want to have ice nearby. Lots of it. In this heat, the Fish People can overpower you like that!” He snapped his fingers.
Suzie scribbled a quick note in her pad and circled it:
“Ice.”
* * *
“When you get to Earth, start decomposing right away,” David FishPeople told his class. “Your smell will reduce their ability to resist. The sooner you start to decompose, the easier it’ll be on our troops.”
The students nodded, and Daphne FishPeople spoke quietly into her digital recorder:
“Decompose.”
Cecil Vortex
This poem is with stupid
We were so lucky to be kids right there in the sticky sweet center of the golden age of t-shirts
Mall-store walls plastered to the sky with receding rows of iron-ons -- too many to pick just five
And when one of my older brothers wore that shirt that said: "I'm so happy I could just shit."
Well I was that happy too.
We were so lucky
to be kids
right there
in the sticky sweet center of
the golden age
of t-shirts.
Mall-store walls plastered to the sky
with receding rows of iron-ons —
too many to pick just five.
And when one of my older brothers
wore that shirt that said:
“I’m so happy I could just shit,”
Well I was that happy too.
The Lactating Detective
She’s a stay-at-home mom pulled back into the biz by circumstance.
“Who stole the binkie?”
“I’ll tell you who stole the binkie.”
“He stole the binkie!”
The “Pale Fire Deathmarch” Pause That Refreshes
One week from today, the PFDM kicks off. Job one for this week: make sure you have yourself a copy of so-called “Pale Fire.” Job two: don’t read Pale Fire! Oh, you can read the cover copy. And you can read the spine. Please, read the spine. But as we learned with the GRDM, one of the biggest challenges in these DMs is not getting too far ahead o’ the pack, so be sure to leave them innards alone.
Over the next few days, getcher booties polished and yer canteen cleansed. Shake out the old pup tent. Next week: we ride!
Three perspectives on my lost wallet
My four-year old daughter:
I thought it was under the couch and
I also tried to look for it everywhere, but
I was having so much fun that
I couldn’t find it.
So it was very sad that you lost your wallet.
My wife:
Well, I was perplexed that we couldn’t find the wallet anywhere in the house.
I was worried that you were so depressed about it.
I felt blue about having more paperwork. And then,
when Chris showed up with the wallet,
I was so happy, I gave him a hug.
Me:
I want to thank everyone.
This has been a wrenching experience.
And now, I’d like to take watch TV.
Catch the game.
Eat a big chocolate model of my brain.
Shaved My Beard
I shaved my beard today so, hopefully, we can put our feud aside.
You thought I was making fun of the ’70s, but I wasn’t. I love the ’70s.
That’s why I wore the beard in the first place. Can’t you understand?
It was starting to tear the block apart, our feud.
People were taking sides. Mostly they were taking your side. And that made me angry.
So I yelled at your cat. So I took your mailbox.
So I rubbed my butt on your car. So what, right?
Really. I mean, we’re grown ups, you and I. Look: I shaved my beard.
Let’s get on with our lives.
Don’t
Don’t think of it
as me
eating your sandwich.
Think of it as
your sandwich
hiding inside me
for a day or two.
Sanity
Rising to greet you.
Pulling out a chair.
Licking clean your plate.
Sanity bread crumbs sticking to the side of
your mouth your chin your shirt until
wiped away soft backhand skin.
Sanity letting you sit down first.
Beached and bleached into blue-white seashell fragments.
Crushed and sprinkled over a wide path.
Then sanity taking a nap.
Spin
There’s a bench by the Santa Cruz merry-go-round
where you can sit and watch the brass-ring jockies
as they spin past at high speeds
watch their faces shift from
crazed release last miss to
tight mad joy next shot
hook swinging into view
watch hands pull back
fingers snap from
loose, curved noodles to
crooked
ready
reach.
“The Pale Fire Deathmarch” Exhortation!
A few weeks back, we wrapped “The Gravity’s Rainbow Deathmarch,” in which some 13 or 14 of us went screaming across Pynchon’s notoriously challenging uber-book.
Mark yer calendars. Two weeks from today — on May 31st — tanned, rested, and ready, we’ll be starting up Deathmarch 2. This time out, we’re tackling something a wee bit lighter and a whole lot shorter. By its rep, Vladimir Nabokov’s Pale Fire is a wild, one-of-a-kind read. Anthony Burgess says it’s a “brilliant confection.” Mary McCarthy, never one to be out done by Anthony Burgess, says: “This centaur work, half-poem, half-prose . . . is a creation of perfect beauty, symmetry, strangeness, originality and moral truth. Pretending to be a curio, it cannot disguise the fact that it is one of the great works of art of this century.” And various folks I know who’ve already read it say: “Great stuff!”
Here’s how the PFDM works: every Tuesday, I’ll leave a short post here on the site. If you’re reading along, drop by and post a comment — something insightful or erudite, random blather, or just a quick “hey now!” That’s it — that’s the whole deal. The book looks like a great ride. And the whole adventure should take around 7 weeks or so.
All are welcome — good friends, new acquaintances, and outright strangers. And yes, my old enemy, my nemesis: The Man with Five Hands: you are welcome too. The Big Idear is to use the momentum of the pack to get into books we might otherwise miss.
There are two main bargain editions online — The Everyman’s Library edition (an inexpensive hardcover) and the Vintage paperback. Either will work — I’ll include page references for both when we set our weekly targets.
And say, if you’re thinking of marching along, why not be here now and practice commenting at this very moment, by leaving one on this very thread. As an added bonus, it’ll help us get a rough head count so we know how much food and water to pack in. Metaphorically speaking.
See you out on that winding road…. -CV