Thursday, February 08, 2007

Dorks Riff And You Have Walt Whitman To Thank For It


A transcription of an IM conversation from this morning NOT edited for spelling, grammar etc.


Flannery: How you doin'?


Big Orange: 咻~~~(一陣冷風吹過,好冷喔~~)

Big Orange: 啊~~~那會怎樣(台語)!

Big Orange: how you?


Flannery: so far so good


Big Orange: actually, yes.

Big Orange: I love Dr. [name withheld]

Big Orange: no swelling, no pain


Flannery: cool


Big Orange: didn't even FEEL anything during the operation thanx to the IV valium!!


Flannery: awesome


Big Orange: oh, and old tech is still good tech.

Big Orange: that is, an old fashioned ice bag is a wonderful thang.

Big Orange: and a helluva lot cheaper than those chemical ice packs.

Big Orange: hehehehe///


Flannery: true


Big Orange: I woke up with a half poem in my head.

Big Orange: I'm trying to see if I can write it.... wanna see what I have so far?


Flannery: sure


Big Orange: Come gather ‘round, pull up a chair, and listen my friends

To a tale about my most recent event

a happening that made my heart most content,

the cutting of my vas deferens.

Flannery: oh, jesus


Big Orange: I thought I'd try covering ALL the blogs...

Big Orange: so you like it so far??

Big Orange: I'll work on it.

Big Orange: can I send it to you for editing??


Flannery: I feel like I've been listening to a reality show about your vasectomy!!!


Big Orange: yup!

Big Orange: you get the play-by-play AND the colour commentary!

Big Orange: hehehehehehe!!

Big Orange: I told Doc a lil' bit about it and he thinks there is much material to be mined therewithin.


Flannery: I think I could do my phd on the subject; my knowledge is so intimate


Big Orange: ESPEICIALLY when I told him that the MD's office was an old HOUSE

Big Orange: AND that four old, old guys were milling around the porch and coming outside, all walkin' reaaal funny and bent over.


Flannery: I'm done picturing your balls and the workings therein


Big Orange: one old motherfucker could barely walk-- like he'd been repeatedly KICKED in the balls-- and was wearing an eyepatch!


Flannery: well, you are in the south

Big Orange: I seriously thought about chickening out for a moment there.

Big Orange: well, yeah....


Flannery: well, you are a big chicken


Big Orange: that's troo...

Big Orange: remember the surgery in "Batman" where the Joker got patched up??


Flannery: not really

Big Orange: well, there we go.


Flannery: why don't you ask Doc to edit your poem?


Big Orange: hehehehe.

Big Orange: OK.


Flannery: let me know when you are moved to write about flowers...or ovaries


Big Orange: anyway, valium is wonderful.


Flannery: word


Big Orange: I could write about ovaries.

Big Orange: there's a new sterilzation process for wimmin-folken that doens't involve surgery.

Big Orange: is that interesting to you?


Flannery: nope

Flannery: oh, wait...new wardrobes?


Big Orange: no... falopian tube implants

Big Orange: you wanted to know when I was moved to write about ovaries, but when I ask if you're interested, you say nope.

Flannery: do i contradict myself? then i contradict myself! I am vast; I contain multitudes


Big Orange: you know, a whorehouse would contain multidudes....


Flannery: a food court contains multifoods


Big Orange: a naturist camp contains multinudes...


Flannery: a bi-polar person contains multimoods


Big Orange: a college frat house on keg night contains multispeweds

Big Orange: aaaand Christian churches at Lent will contain....

Big Orange: uh....

Big Orange: multiescheweds


Flannery: a vegas wedding chapel might contain multiwooeds


Big Orange: a mass jail break would might produce multieludes....


Flannery: A model-maker would collect multiglueds


Big Orange: back to the whorehouse: MULTISCREWEDS!!

Big Orange: a hair salon: MULTISHAMPOOEDS!!

Big Orange: an orthodox Jewish Synagogue: MULTISNOODS!!

Big Orange: a Hollywood movie set: MULTICUED!!

Big Orange: a room full of pathological liars: MULTIDELUDES!!


Flannery: a bad movie: multibooeds


Big Orange: a thorazine clinic: MULTISUBDUEDS


Flannery: hee!

Flannery: a house with many fireplaces: multiflued

Flannery: many flashers: multilewds


Big Orange: a whole collection of carnival sideshow barkers in the same room....

Big Orange: ::ahem::

Big Orange: MULTIBALLYHOOED!!

Big Orange: back to the prison break: MULTIPERSUED!!

Big Orange: a dozen soup kitchen cooks would be MULTISTEWED

Big Orange: so would a roomful of drunks...

Big Orange: ah! 25 cubist painters in the same room: MULTISKEWED!!

Big Orange: how did we overlook the lawfirm: MULTISUED!!

Big Orange: or a quadrouple rainbow: MULTIHUED!!

Big Orange: a middle school: MULTIATTIDUDE!

Big Orange: an outdoors/watersports sports store: MULTICANOED!!

Big Orange: a pig farm manure pit: MULTIPOOED!

Big Orange: same thing with a Disney Store....

Big Orange: MULTIPOOHED.


Flannery: hee!

Flannery: or many cagey people: multialludes

Flannery: or saturday mornings; multicartooned

Flannery: racetraces: multivroooms


Big Orange: hehehehehe!!


Flannery: or ren-faire people: multipantalooned

Flannery: or shipwreck survivors: multimarooned


And then Big Orange had to lie down.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

If I Could Be Anywhere

I'd jump into my calendar's panoramic photo
Of the Ménara Pavillion.
I would make my way to the edge of the balcony
Of the sandstone structure
On the edge of a square-acre pool
In Marakech.

The hem of my turquoise linen gandora
Will graze around my bare feet
As the warm breeze plays with my hair
And melts the frost of winter away
From my heart, my bones, my blood
In Marakech.

My eyes drink in the blues and purples of the sky and water
The incongruity of palm trees and pine
My toes soak up the heat of the stones
As I descend the stairs to dip them
In the mountain's waters
Of Marakech.

I'll learn the language
And use my tongue to
Speak and taste
Foriegn things
And bend my neck to listen close
In Marakech.

For now I keep my back to the window
And the brutality of winter
I Swallow pride
I Feign interest
I daydream
Of Marakech

CAULKING THE CRACKS

I've not written a poem
in 8 1/2 weeks.

that's not like me.

I should correct that...


...Oh, maybe I have.