Strange Land
Robert Maughan
The tree is old, and now John tells me
it is dead.
I visit the farm
whenever my travels take me north,
closer to a strange land;
my friends born to it,
he a farmer's son, and she one of five girls
made and matured in the country.
They are gentlefolk,
strong as they need to be, naturally kind.
Life and death
their daily experience,
not as mine,
a news story, or carefully staged funeral.
My friends are killers too.
I have seen John shoot a dog,
a big old black dog hurting from an endless disease.
John said, 'Veterinarian has stuck him enough.'
I visit the farm when I can
and next time the old tree will be gone,
pulled down and sawn for firewood.
When my friends welcome me again to their hearth
I will warm my hands,
letting the flames touch me.
CasualTee
tell the difference? Does it matter?
Joshua P. Hill
Nicely done--the tree metaphor is deftly handled, and the voice rings
true. I found "Strong as they need to be, naturally kind" particularly
apt and true.
I haven't forgotten your post about Blake, BTW--it just requires a
more extensive treatment than I've had time for these last few days.
Josh
Kevin Taylor <nosp@m.ca.ca>
>To me, this is prose with line breaks. Am I right? Am I wrong? How do you
>tell the difference? Does it matter?
>
>>STRANGE LAND
>>
>>The tree is old, and now John tells me
>>it is dead.
The Tree is dead ...long live the Tree!
Actually this is pretty prosaic. Arbitrary line breaks. Bland. Banal.
But your question about whether it can be un-called poetry is as good
as it is unanswerable in any kind of absolute terms. Who knows.
And as to whether it matters or not... who cares.
Had the message been poetry in and of itself, then form would have
become meaningless and the question, unecessary.
Answer your question?
Kevin Taylor
Vancouver BC Canada
My poetry~
http://www.geocities.com/Paris/Bistro/8066
"Poetry is a means to a certain kind of knowledge, and there is a certain kind of knowledge to which it is the only means."
---Archibald MacLeish
CasualTee
*I* care, or I wouldn't have asked the question. :)
Kevin Taylor <nosp@m.ca.ca>
>>And as to whether it matters or not... who cares.
>
>*I* care, or I wouldn't have asked the question. :)
>
Well you said earlier...
>To me, this is prose with line breaks. Am I right? Am I wrong? How do you
>tell the difference? Does it matter?
Perhaps I should just have said... it does not matter in the grand
scheme of things.
The poetry should have been in what he said and not simply how he said
it. The way in which he would have led you to the poetry (your poetry)
is what you experience as the form and in the technical odds and ends.
Those things are there because they have proven useful to getting the
reader / listener to the essence.. the experience of the poetry. But
they are not the poetry in and of themselves.
That bit of metaphysics should have some here foaming.
Anyway, if you didn't experience the poetry in what he was
communicating then that may be due to a problem in application of
those technical bits and pieces whereby your attention is drawn away
or else sticks on something and the essence is missed. Or else it
wasn't there in the 1st place and you just have a bunch of technique
masquarading as poetry. Sometimes it might actually work. In this
instance it didn't do anything for me. There wasn't anything
technically too messed up... my attention wasn't forced. It read well.
The author is quite able to write.
But another reason comes to mind. The author may not have written this
with you or me or the next fellow in mind. Could be that it represents
a veritable epiphany for someone else. But I suspect that if it does,
it is a very narrow audience that would enjoy that result. So it's
elitist (as is the author at times) or it is a miss. I hold with the
latter.
Robert Maughan
CasualTee <casu...@aol.com> writes
>To me, this is prose with line breaks.
To me also - written as ordinarily as it was possible to write so the
ordinary subject would not be obscured by poetics. Transcribed directly
from notes - which I invariably write in prose. I own the right to call
it poetry. It was rejected three times in what I thought might be it's
natural home (once by 'The Countryman' which was particularly hurtful)
and it eventually published in a brash inner city mag. I'm a city boy,
by the way, and I wouldn't presume to poeticise the country.
RJM.
Robert Maughan
Kevin Taylor <no...@m.ca.ca> <po...@intergate.bc.ca>
>That bit of metaphysics should have some here foaming.
Goodness me, Kevin, how you stroke yourself, as usual. Your metaphysics
or my metaphor are incidental. The poem is earthbound.
RJM.
Joshua P. Hill
<r...@etymon.demon.co.uk> wrote:
>I'm a city boy,
>by the way, and I wouldn't presume to poeticise the country.
>
> RJM.
Robert,
Bein' as we-all's on th' topic o' countrifyin' potery, I'd be curious
to know what you think of this.
Josh
Porky's Sonnet
"It's time," said Father with his dust bowl eyes,
And there was no arguing with that look,
Which said, old Porky's fat enough, he dies;
And so we got the knife, cup, rope and hook.
"Now Father," Mother had so firmly said,
"You know how much the children love that swine!"
But he'd rolled over in the old brass bed;
Next day, she told us children not to whine.
Sad little eyes watched blood fill up the cup;
We girls all cried, the boys most held it in.
The butcher came, and put old Porky up
In barrels, though the tanner took the skin.
And Mom served Porky sausages that night;
But even Father couldn't bear to bite.
CasualTee
>>>And as to whether it matters or not... who cares.
>>
>>*I* care, or I wouldn't have asked the question. :)
>>
>
>Well you said earlier...
>
>>To me, this is prose with line breaks. Am I right? Am I wrong? How do you
>>tell the difference? Does it matter?
>
>Perhaps I should just have said... it does not matter in the grand
>scheme of things.
>
>The poetry should have been in what he said and not simply how he said
>it. The way in which he would have led you to the poetry (your poetry)
>is what you experience as the form and in the technical odds and ends.
>Those things are there because they have proven useful to getting the
>reader / listener to the essence.. the experience of the poetry. But
>they are not the poetry in and of themselves.
>That bit of metaphysics should have some here foaming.
CasualTee
>>To me, this is prose with line breaks.
>
> To me also - written as ordinarily as it was possible to write so the
>ordinary subject would not be obscured by poetics. Transcribed directly
>from notes - which I invariably write in prose. I own the right to call
>it poetry. It was rejected three times in what I thought might be it's
>natural home (once by 'The Countryman' which was particularly hurtful)
>and it eventually published in a brash inner city mag. I'm a city boy,
Robert Maughan
Joshua P. Hill <XXjos...@mindspring.com>
>I'd be curious
>to know what you think of this.
>
> Porky's Sonnet
Best I can do is comment - it's very likeable and sonnetlike. Sorry,
mate, I don't do crits., I'm not qualified. It's all one way with me.
RJM.
Robert Maughan
CasualTee <casu...@aol.com>
>it just didn't strike me as poetry.
I understand - not to pursue you on this - but the argument
about (against) line breaks falls down when poetry is recited.
I have never had an audience complain about line breaks.
RJM.
Joshua P. Hill
Hey, thanks anyway. Though if qualifications mattered, this group
would be as quiet as alt.conservative.fundsforthepoor.
Josh
Robert Maughan
Joshua P. Hill <XXjos...@mindspring.com> writes
>Hey, thanks anyway. Though if qualifications mattered, this group
>would be as quiet as alt.conservative.fundsforthepoor.
Quite.
RJM.
Kevin Taylor <nosp@m.ca.ca>
<r...@etymon.demon.co.uk> wrote:
>
> CasualTee <casu...@aol.com> writes
>
>>To me, this is prose with line breaks.
>
> To me also - written as ordinarily as it was possible to write so the
>ordinary subject would not be obscured by poetics. Transcribed directly
>from notes - which I invariably write in prose. I own the right to call
>it poetry. It was rejected three times in what I thought might be it's
>natural home (once by 'The Countryman' which was particularly hurtful)
>and it eventually published in a brash inner city mag. I'm a city boy,
>by the way, and I wouldn't presume to poeticise the country.
OK. If it is prose with line breaks as you say (and I heartily agree)
then what makes it poetry?
Robert Maughan
Kevin Taylor <no...@m.ca.ca> <po...@intergate.bc.ca>
>OK. If it is prose with line breaks as you say (and I heartily agree)
>then what makes it poetry?
Delivery.
RJM.
Mop
Mop
--
June's Guest Poet: Dale Houstman
June's Feature: The Popol Vuh Translations
http://www.go-get.co.uk/gopoems/
ButtonPresser interview & AAPC FAQ
http://www.go-get.co.uk/gopoems/aapc
Robert Maughan <r...@etymon.demon.co.uk> wrote in message
news:kkfUhkAY...@etymon.demon.co.uk...
Dale Houstman
Robert Maughan wrote:
>
I'm not qualified. It's all one way with me.
>
There's a lot of truth in those two lines.
Dale Houstman
"Kevin Taylor " wrote:
>
>
> Perhaps I should just have said... it does not matter in the grand
> scheme of things.
>
>
Yes, but nothing matters in "the grand scheme of things." People don't
live in this grand scheme much, they live in a swirl of rules and
dreams. If we lived in the grand scheme we wouldn't write at all; what
would be the point? In the grand scheme all of human experience is but
dust and ashes. Depressing consideration...
DMH
Robert Maughan
Mop <m...@go-get.co.uk>
>Yes, but delivery is very hard to hear on a newsgroup
Oh? Perhaps you mean it's very hard for you? You mean on the screen,
of course, on the page. You are unable to hear the poetry you read.
How sad.
You won't hear this -
The Scribes
I never warmed to them.
If they were excellent they were petuant
and jaggy as the hollow tree
they rendered down for ink.
And if I never belonged among them,
they could never deny me my place.
In the hush of the scriptorium
a black pearl kept gathering in them
like the old dry glut inside their quills.
In the margin of texts of praise
they scratched and clawed.
They snarled if the day was dark
or too much chalk had made their vellum bland
or too little left it oily.
Under the rumps of lettering
they herded myopic angers.
Resentment seeded in the uncurling
fernheads of their capitals.
Now and again I started up
miles away and saw in my absence
the sloped cursive of each back and felt them
perfect themselves against me page by page.
Let them remember this not inconsiderable
contribution to their jealous art.
S.H. from Sweeney Revivivus.
RJM.
Robert Maughan
Dale Houstman <dale.h...@gte.net>
>Robert Maughan wrote:
>>
>I'm not qualified. It's all one way with me.
>>
>There's a lot of truth in those two lines.
You're as perceptive as a mole. You think I should have lied? Pretended
competence? You should consider the possibility that your ignorance is a
disadvantage not a qualification. You should also consider a career as a
shelf stacker. You won't need balls for that either.
RJM.
Dale Houstman
Bobby,
You're quick to anger, and so it can only be regretted that your
intelligence is not as handily spurred, in order that you might have
something to harness. As it is, you appear to be just a pony's ass.
DMH
Robert Maughan
Dale Houstman <dale.h...@gte.net>
>You're quick to anger, and so it can only be regretted that your
>intelligence is not as handily spurred, in order that you might have
>something to harness. As it is, you appear to be just a pony's ass.
Anger? I wonder if you utter these meaningless homilies of yours to
edify your congregation or to save me from myself? Either way, pal,
you're in the wrong pulpit.
And read some Hemingway, see if you can't get a grip of simple prose.
Or Wodehouse. Or Bill Bryson, for chrisakes. Anyone but Rimbaud. You'll
only fuck up your already limited powers of thought by reading someone
else's symbolism, or systematic 'disorientation of the senses'. The idea
you have (and utter in embarrassing detail) that talent/art/ is made of
contrived experience, is, well, ludicrous. You take up a text and you
make up a poem. I have to say, I've been dining out on your 'interview'
for days, and this extract particularly has them rolling in the stys.
DALE: I don't have "subjects" - I never search for a language to clothe
some preordained meaning in. I am suspicious of meaning and of easy
answers, and remain more comfortable in suspense. I will chase emotional
"tones" and scraps of intrigueing phraseology until they (or often I)
fall into exhaustion, but this fails as often as not to [sic] net poetry.
The poem coalesces from my intuitive sense of form (archetype) and my
emotional tenor (daily experience) just as dream will. It is amazing it
works as often as it does.
In other words, bereft of original thought, you regurgitate random text
in a 'meaningful' way. What a fucking brilliant wheeze! Nothing to say,
you say nothing. Curiously, the poems I have read of yours are not quite
like that, but are rather sweet. Beyond India, particularly dulcet, but,
your 'product' is exactly what you pretend it isn't. Jolly nice poems by
a 'wandering soul' (my parens). And it's 'mangos' by the way. You really
must insist on proper editing for serious matters like 'interviews'. Over
at Moppet's house. Else your credibility, as I say, is in the toilet, and
you do disservice to 'beginning poets', when solemnly pronouncing - 'You
say nothing about this ocean, this person, this boat, these stars that I
couldn't think up on my worst night after a drinking bout.' Well, quite.
And what the fuck is a 'drinking bout?' Do you go in motley?
You're confusing day to day intercourse in Usenet newsgroups with tenure
at some august seat of learning where students come from far and wide to
throw themselves at your feet and hear the word. Behold the electric guru
contemplating his navel from the inside.
RJM.
Dale Houstman
Robert Maughan wrote:
>You think I should have lied?
Of course not Bobby; it is obvious you don't have the art to lie, since
you appear to think "poetics" is a mask for reality, rather than a
portion of its very substance processed through grace. You sleep
fitfully amongst those who feel "art" is about some aspect of your
childish (or yahoo) notions of "truth" or "reality." In other words, my
little BooBoo, you are an aggressive sentimentalist. You are
continuously confusing your feelings of inadequacy with your inadequate
storehouse of available thoughts and blurting out mangled versions of
such junior high witticisms as "gaping cunt" and "throbbing member,"
while (at the same time!) attempting to assure us (and thus your own
shriveling self) that you are "normal" by telling us of your "history
degree" (which you know can be earned by any person not entirely on the
nod or recovering from a brain-stem accident), or of your wife (whom I
can only assume has been on the receiving end of your elegant and
humorous "cunt" phrases), or of your grandchildren, who shall some day
learn to hate you for the hollow little blowpipe you are. And then you
will die clutching your "throbbing member" and I'll hunt you down and
piss vinegar into that cardboard coffin the little ragmuffins stuffed
your corrupted corpse into.
Or maybe not.
DMH
Joshua P. Hill
are in the middle of a flame war. That's more trouble than I took,
here or in the silly debate over whether your poetry was too prosaic.
Seems to me you could at the very least have held off until a more
appropriate flaming opportunity.
Hell, it's all getting kind of tired, anyway--about as compelling as
me making fun of Martijn because he has a "j" in his name.
Josh
carmen
> Behold the electric guru
>contemplating his navel from the inside.
>
I'm going to be a 'I-don't-have-time-right-now-to-answer-but'
I've read that sentence many times, lately, on this ng, I suspect is a fashion;
so I don't have time right now to answer to so many unventilated statements
but I didn't want to miss the opportunity to tell you
how annoying you start to be, Rubber Maunder.
First, don't mention Rimbaud just like that, above all with the word
symbolism right after, please.
Next, to save you from your erroneous consideration, know that
Dale never never never contemplates his navel from the inside;
he is always impeccably groomed an wears suits which
show off high, full breasts, tiny waist and wide hips.
His navel, it could be said to be his one dissipation,
an amusement in the cinematic portrayal of his unbearable intemperance.
carmen
Dale Houstman
Robert Maughan wrote:
>
> Dale Houstman <dale.h...@gte.net>
>
>
> And read some Hemingway
I have, and your prose isn't in the same league by a long shot. Don't
flatter yourself Booboo. As for "simple prose" I must say (in all
honesty) you've nailed the simple part down just fine.
.> Or Wodehouse.
I have. Very droll fellow, although for comic writing I prefer Perelman.
Just a preference.
> Anyone but Rimbaud. You'll only fuck up your already limited powers of thought
I think any grandfather who regularly uses versions of the phrase
"gaping cunt" is no one to go about speaking of limited powers of
thought, especially as I haven't seen an original or interesting line
from you in a century or two. you seem, on the whole, to me quite
stupid, and are hoping to fill that gaping cunt called your brain with
attitude and a vulgarity quite lacking in redeeming wit. You are, quite
possibly the worst writer who thinks he's a good writer I have ever
seen, and if I wasn't too kind to point out the other obvious signs of
your continuing disability and flaccidity, this note would be a lot
longer, you would get sleepy in your granddad's armchair, and your
grandchildren would steal your memory medicine once more.
> you have (and utter in embarrassing detail) that talent/art/ is made of
> contrived experience, is, well, ludicrous.
That may well be, but since I don't actually say art is made of
contrived experience and never mention talent, your statement must refer
to someone else. Lose your drugstore reading glasses, gramps?
> You take up a text and you make up a poem. I have to say, I've been dining out on your 'interview'
> for days, and this extract particularly has them rolling in the stys.
It's "sties" Babu. since you're into these trivial moments...
>
> DALE: I don't have "subjects" - I never search for a language to clothe
> some preordained meaning in. I am suspicious of meaning and of easy
> answers, and remain more comfortable in suspense. I will chase emotional
> "tones" and scraps of intrigueing phraseology until they (or often I)
> fall into exhaustion, but this fails as often as not to [sic] net poetry.
> The poem coalesces from my intuitive sense of form (archetype) and my
> emotional tenor (daily experience) just as dream will. It is amazing it
> works as often as it does.
>
> In other words, bereft of original thought, you regurgitate random text
> in a 'meaningful' way.
No, my little Bobo; I said I don't use "preordained meaning" which
implies I find meaning as I compose. This by the way, my tiny Bimbo, is
a common element of many writers. I shall never be alone, while you will
soon have no one who can stand you. I smell your rot already. Also if
you had the intellectual courage (and could get the cap off your
rum-laced Geritol bottle) you would note that I believe heartily in
rewriting and composition. It is again quite common to initially write
in a "white heat" or without a leading theme, searching for motifs and
characters and tropes to emerge. This is so common a technique that your
not knowing of it leads me to believe that your reading of prose is as
wretched as your writing of prose; frankly I previously felt this to be
unlikely.
> Nothing to say, you say nothing. Curiously, the poems I have read of yours are not quite
> like that, but are rather sweet.
Which, my trifling Bamboo, proves my point precisely. Since the poems
work, and since I composed them in exactly the way I said in the
interview, your protests to the contrary are made irrelevant by your own
admission. If you're going to aim for an intelligent thought, at least
try to take your foot out of your mouth before you shoot yourself in it.
A very sad performance, little Buddy.
> And it's 'mangos' by the way.
First, see "sties"bove, then: look in the Random House. It's "mangoes"
dimbulb. If you're going to insult someone upon the trivial point of a
misspelled word, try to use a dictionary before you open your "gaping
cunt." You might hurt your credibility. Oh, you might be interested, my
little Bubba; this spelling of "mangoes" is there because I did compose
the poem using a George Orwell book. He spelled it that way too. But he
was English, what could he know about the language compared to you, a
grandfather with the mind of a disappointed junior high school glue
addict? Quite a combination personality you've erected there, Boozy.
Your wife must be extremely disappointed also, ever since your
"throbbing member" has been dedicated more to strangers on the ng,
rather than to her "gaping cunt."
> And what the fuck is a 'drinking bout?' Do you go in motley?
You can't afford a dictionary on Social Security? bout = period,
session, spell. does that help? Also, since the phrase "drinking bout"
is common usage, you should have been able to pass it better than your
last meals-on-wheels.
>
You are an avergae writer, but a terrible human. And (considering the
immense contortions you went through in this letter over non-existent
errors) you are a very bad thinker. I recommend a CAT scan and a
complete neurological exam. That thing you call your brain appears to be
nothing but an aneurysm waiting to put you down like the dog you are.
Bye bye little Buggy
DMH
Redclay 6
he is always impeccably groomed an wears suits which
show off high, full breasts, tiny waist and wide hips.
His navel, it could be said to be his one dissipation,
an amusement in the cinematic portrayal of his unbearable intemperance.
carmen>>
i dunno quite whatchu talkin bout here, but i think i want his phone number.
carmen
Redclay 6 wrote in message <19990612183335...@ng-ca1.aol.com>...
he's a kind of androgynous, but a marvellous one,
and doesn't do anything for free
is that ok with you?
carmen
carmen
Redclay 6 wrote in message <19990613001422...@ng-cn1.aol.com>...
>he's a kind of androgynous, but a marvelous one,
>and doesn't do anything for free
>is that ok with you?
>
>carmen>>>
>
of course!
carmen
Redclay 6
aquar...@my-deja.com
of these friends, 'born to it,' ' Life and death their daily experience,
not as mine, a news story, or carefully staged funeral.
Good, strong voice...
Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
Share what you know. Learn what you don't.
Chuckk
> implies I find meaning as I compose. This by the way, my tiny Bimbo, is
> a common element of many writers.
Two things-
1) I've discovered the joy of that. Most of my poems that I've gone
back and admired were ironically products of writer's blocks that I
tried to push through; I started out writing stuff that was utterly
dumb, not pointless but redundant, unnecessary. Then I added twists or
whatever so that the middle part was necessary in a way it never would
have been had I known the end when I wrote it. (a pretty good
description of my thought processes).
2) Can I be Rambo?
-chuckk
--
http://www.paonline.com/chuckk/ -TOUCHED CHUCKK'S PAGE OF incongruity...
Robert Maughan
Dale Houstman <dale.h...@gte.net>
>> And read some Hemingway
>
>I have, and your prose isn't in the same league by a long shot.
My prose? Did I say it was in the same league? I suggest Hemingway's
prose is an exemplar for writing in this medium. For you. For anyone.
Same league forcrsakes. My hero.
> Don't
>flatter yourself Booboo.
I don't. I'm at pains not to.
>As for "simple prose" I must say (in all
>honesty) you've nailed the simple part down just fine.
That is exactly the point. Simple = not complicated or embellished.
> Or Wodehouse.
>
>I have. Very droll fellow, although for comic writing I prefer Perelman.
>Just a preference.
>
Never mind the comic, check the prose. I like Perelman too. Difficult
not to like anyone who wrote Marx Brothers' scripts. Or graced the New
Yorker. Or had the good taste to die in London. He too wrote prose that
has not had an influence on yours.
>> Anyone but Rimbaud. You'll only fuck up your already limited powers of
>thought
>
>I think any grandfather who regularly uses versions of the phrase
>"gaping cunt"
I use them regularly? You have used the phrase endlessly in these
exchanges.
>is no one to go about speaking of limited powers of
>thought, especially as I haven't seen an original or interesting line
>from you in a century or two.
You see what I mean. Embellished. Without 'in a century or two' you had
written simple prose.
> you seem, on the whole, to me quite
>stupid,
(I thought I called you stupid first - not stealing my ideas I hope).
I can be quite stupid, I agree, like any mortal. Although, as you know,
I do have a history degree.
>and are hoping to fill that gaping cunt called your brain
There you go again.
>with
>attitude and a vulgarity quite lacking in redeeming wit.
Well, that's one third true. Redemption is not really an issue though.
>possibly the worst writer who thinks he's a good writer I have ever
>seen,
Why do you conclude that I think I'm a good writer? I write for money.
Not at all the same thing. Worse, I write for anybody's money. But the
really awful thing is, I've been doing it for thirty years. I shouldn't
have let the capitalist system corrupt my principles. Should've become
a career deadbeat, like you.
> and if I wasn't too kind to point out the other obvious signs of
>your continuing disability and flaccidity, this note would be a lot
>longer, you would get sleepy in your granddad's armchair, and your
>grandchildren would steal your memory medicine once more.
Oh.
>
>> you have (and utter in embarrassing detail) that talent/art/ is made of
>> contrived experience, is, well, ludicrous.
>
>That may well be, but since I don't actually say art is made of
>contrived experience and never mention talent, your statement must refer
>to someone else. Lose your drugstore reading glasses, gramps?
You don't say so, true - my conclusion from what I read is that it is
what you believe etc. It's how argument works. You say that I say that
I think I'm a good writer. I never say it. See?
>> You take up a text and you make up a poem. I have to say, I've been dining
>out
>on your 'interview'
>> for days, and this extract particularly has them rolling in the stys.
>
>It's "sties" Babu. since you're into these trivial moments...
That's RIGHT. Thanks. And it's Booboo. Stick to your last.
>> DALE: I don't have "subjects" - I never search for a language to clothe
>> some preordained meaning in. I am suspicious of meaning and of easy
>> answers, and remain more comfortable in suspense. I will chase emotional
>> "tones" and scraps of intrigueing phraseology until they (or often I)
>> fall into exhaustion, but this fails as often as not to [sic] net poetry.
>> The poem coalesces from my intuitive sense of form (archetype) and my
>> emotional tenor (daily experience) just as dream will. It is amazing it
>> works as often as it does.
>>
>> In other words, bereft of original thought, you regurgitate random text
>> in a 'meaningful' way.
>
>No, my little Bobo; I said I don't use "preordained meaning" which
>implies I find meaning as I compose.
Well, yes, that is what I said you do. You regurgitate in a meaningful
way. Rather, you 'compose' meaningfully. Makes me feel so humble. I sit
down, I write.
>This by the way, my tiny Bimbo, is
>a common element of many writers.
Nah, I don't think so, sweetheart. A few writers perhaps. Most writers
beat themselves up over their original thoughts and try to convey THEIR
meaning.
>I shall never be alone, while you will
>soon have no one who can stand you.
You mean here? That may well be true. 'No one' can go fuck themselves.
I'm not interested in ingratiating myself with this group or any other.
I don't have an invented persona to offer.
>I smell your rot already.
You drama queen you. Nice pose though.
>Also if
>you had the intellectual courage (and could get the cap off your
>rum-laced Geritol bottle) you would note that I believe heartily in
>rewriting and composition.
Rum? I'm not that kind of mick, pal. Never touch the booze. I have no
doubt you believe heartily <embellishword< in rewriting and composition.
I'm pleased for you. Why do you need to tell me?
>It is again quite common to initially write
>in a "white heat" or without a leading theme, searching for motifs and
>characters and tropes to emerge.
Gosh. Yes, well, you do seem determined to make my point... in passing,
a trope in music is an embellishment.
> This is so common a technique that your
>not knowing of it leads me to believe that your reading of prose is as
>wretched as your writing of prose; frankly I previously felt this to be
>unlikely.
It is a technique, certainly. Frightfully artistic, too. You're talking
about your poetry when you mention this technique. But my prose. OK. I'm
sure you have a point. I'm afraid I don't take writing poetry quite that
seriously. I'd never publish if I did. The trouble with the small press
is that editors do rather like a poem to fit their readership. I gotta
say, I'm a tart when it comes to poetry. I'll do it for a tenner. I'm
not sure about the States but in the UK poetry magazines are usually
edited by hard bitten pragmatists with a subsidy to keep. And don't
talk to me about audiences. I don't read much, I get the giggles, but
I have a highly trained team of thespians who do it for money. Well,
for a part in my annual low budget blockbuster drama. I think you
have to face the fact that Usenet is just another venue.
>>Having nothing to say, you say nothing. Curiously, the poems I have
>>read of yours are not quite like that, but are rather sweet.
>Which, my trifling Bamboo, proves my point precisely. Since the poems
>work, and since I composed them in exactly the way I said in the
>interview, your protests to the contrary are made irrelevant by your own
>admission.
Protests to the contrary of what? I'm taking the piss out of your pose
as poetry sage. I really do think your poems are rather sweet. I posted
a couple of short ones inspired by your teachings just yesterday. If my
memory serves, little Moppet called them (yours) 'wonderful poems'. I'm
not sure I'd go that far, but, as I say, they are cute. How you wrote
them with your head up your arse is a feat in itself.
>If you're going to aim for an intelligent thought, at least
>try to take your foot out of your mouth before you shoot yourself in it.
I like that one, too. I would have said, 'take both feet out of your
mouth so you have a bigger target'. See? Not just repeating the tired
old joke but search for a 'motif' and nail the fucker. No charge.
>A very sad performance, little Buddy.
I dunno. I think it had it's moments.
>
>> And it's 'mangos' by the way.
>
>First, see "sties"bove, then: look in the Random House. It's "mangoes"
>dimbulb.
I don't have Random House. I'm sure it's 'mangoes' in every dictionary.
I'm equally sure it's 'mangos' also. But I'm not going to check! See how
that works? 'stys' was definitely a blind error though. I admit it. Com-
pletely missed the 'Y' so keen was I to get in the pig reference. There
is only one 'sties'. And it's 'above'. In addition a bove is a cow.
>If you're going to insult someone upon the trivial point of a
>misspelled word, try to use a dictionary before you open your "gaping
>cunt." You might hurt your credibility.
There you go again. My credibility as a spellchecker is at risk all the
time. That bloody magnifying glass does my head in.
> Oh, you might be interested, my
>little Bubba; this spelling of "mangoes" is there because I did compose
>the poem using a George Orwell book. He spelled it that way too. But he
>was English, what could he know about the language compared to you, a
>grandfather with the mind of a disappointed junior high school glue
>addict?
I am interested. Orwell spelled it that way too? Not the other way? I
can't believe it. What a choice the man made from the two alternatives
available! What could he know about the language, the fool? That there
were two spellings, I'll bet. Long time since I read Orwell. Lemme see,
you 'composed' your poem from reading My Country Right or Left from the
Collected? He was at the BBC then. Indian Section. Also wrote brilliant
journalism. Horizon, Tribune, and The New Statesman. Edited Tribune, if
I'm right, during the war. His prose is vividly evocative, I think, and
his exactitiude in the use of language is telling. 'Down the Mine' is a
beautiful prose piece. From Inside the Whale in case you want to get it
out of the library and do another poem. What a curiously sterile way to
read great literature. I wonder what you would do with Coming up for Air
or Down and Out in Paris and London. Or Keep the Aspidistra Flying. The
Road to Wigan Pier might throw you, but I'm sure you'd get more than a
few mangos out of Burmese Days. Did I say mangos? I meant mangoes. But
then, you gotta ask. With my disappointed glue addict's mind - what do
I know from English literature?
> Quite a combination personality you've erected there, Boozy.
>Your wife must be extremely disappointed also, ever since your
>"throbbing member" has been dedicated more to strangers on the ng,
>rather than to her "gaping cunt."
Alas, so true, so very, very true. And don't think she hasn't brought
it up.
>> And what the fuck is a 'drinking bout?' Do you go in motley?
>
>You can't afford a dictionary on Social Security? bout = period,
>session, spell. does that help? Also, since the phrase "drinking bout"
>is common usage, you should have been able to pass it better than your
>last meals-on-wheels.
Bloody hell, you're thick. "Drinking bout" is NOT common usage, you
literal minded dipshit. It's exactly NOT a phrase used, except perhaps
in jest, in day to day speech, or indeed in day to day posts in Usenet.
It's an affected style of speech or writing. You very rarely hear anyone
say, 'Boy, did I go out on a serious drinking bout last night.' Hence my
question, "Do you go in motley?" Motley = a variegated garment formerly
worn by jesters. OED. I think your lack of education is cruelly apparent
but you can do something about that, you know, even at your age. I quite
like the meals-on-wheels joke. Did you mean after or before?
>You are an avergae writer, but a terrible human.
I will have this burnt into my gravestone, with corrected spelling of
course. You, on the other hand will have as your epitaph, the legend,
There Goes One More Semiliterate Deluded Arsehole.
>And (considering the
>immense contortions you went through in this letter over non-existent
>errors) you are a very bad thinker.
A very naughty thinker, mate. Get it out of your arse. There are two
ways of spell ... never mind. Immense contortions? One mango pounce?
Get a grip.
>I recommend a CAT scan and a
>complete neurological exam. That thing you call your brain appears to be
>nothing but an aneurysm waiting to put you down like the dog you are.
Good god. You're a brain surgeon as well! Professor of Poetry at the
University of Usenet, Lexicographer to the Stars, Head Literary Bozo,
quondam Rocket Scientist AND NOW THIS! It's a fucking privilege.
RJM.
Robert Maughan
Joshua P. Hill <XXjos...@mindspring.com> writes
>Hey, Robert, Dale was honest enough to defend you even though you guys
>are in the middle of a flame war. That's more trouble than I took,
>here or in the silly debate over whether your poetry was too prosaic.
>Seems to me you could at the very least have held off until a more
>appropriate flaming opportunity.
>
>Hell, it's all getting kind of tired, anyway--about as compelling as
>me making fun of Martijn because he has a "j" in his name.
Oh?
And the debate is whether my poetry is too mundane, if you don't mind.
Wait a minute, no, the mundane debate was about the Blake poem. This IS
the prosaic debate. As you were.
RJM.
Robert Maughan
Dale Houstman <dale.h...@gte.net>
I think maybe not, sweetheart.
It's true I don't have the art to lie. I do have some small talent to
lie for money, sure, but to lie about something like qualification to
criticise other people's poetry ... No.
I think YOUR poetics is a mask for reality. The reality being that you
are a pretentious wanker. Poetics is NOT processed through any kind of
grace. Poetics is the exercise of critical intellect. You have to have
intellectual worth. A deep knowledge and understanding of the laws of
poetry. These laws are not holy writ. They are tools used by the critic
to examine the writing of poetry. The critic is not a teacher by comm-
ission but by exposition. Poetics, in reality, is simply that branch of
criticism that deals with written poetry. More simply, poetics is the
practice of poetry by anyone with a pen.
It's quite true that my childish, I would say childlike notions of
truth and reality are at one remove from art. I don't practice art. I
don't fool myself, or attempt to fool others that I do. I don't know
that those who do feel anything about art would make me sleep fitfully
amongst them. I sleep like a body. Not sure what this means -
>You sleep fitfully amongst those who feel "art" is about some aspect
>of your childish (or yahoo) notions of "truth" or "reality."
But I gather it means I'm an aggressive sentimentalist. Anyone who can
call me a sentimentalist of any kind has definitely seen that romantic,
emotional side of me no bastard will believe I possess try as I might to
convince them. Touching, really. Where were you when I needed you? Con-
fusing your inadequacy with ineptitude, I bet. Like this -
>You are continuously confusing your feelings of inadequacy with your
>inadequate storehouse of available thoughts and blurting out mangled
>versions of such junior high witticisms as "gaping cunt" and "throbbing
>member"
Versions? What versions? I like writing them just as they are. Not as
much as you do, though. You can't seem to stop. And where do you get off
accusing me of assuring you that I'm normal? God forbid. You're really
in a state about education, aren't you? Surely the majority are educated
to degree level (depending on age of course) in these lit. groups? It's
certain that those who aren't are not as sensitive about it as you are.
After all, you've had a bee in your bonnet since, months ago, in a post
elsewhere about surrealism and art, I said, 'I can't comment, my degree
is in history.' Quite why you took this so badly I'm at a loss to know.
Nobody in this ng would have known if you hadn't told them. Repeatedly.
The thing is that I assumed at the time from your bold assertions that
you were at least an M.A. and very likely a learned Ph.D. with a chair
in Compleat Knowledge of Everything at the U. of A. I gotta tell you,
pal, I WAS recovering from a brain injury when I sat my exams. I'd been
playing cricket the day before and headed the ball by mistake. Easily
done. If it's any consolation to you my alma mater turned me down for
a Master's ten years ago because my first degree wasn't good enough.
Fucking cheek.
My wife would kick my arse into the next county if I so much as raised
my voice. You appear to be extremely confused by the dynamics of this
medium. This is Usenet, an electric agora, a shopless mall. It's the
only zoo I know where the visitors get to tempt the seals with titbits
and kick their heads in.
Corrupted corpse - I wish. I'm on a fruit and water diet, mate.
RJM.
Dale Houstman
Redclay 6 wrote:
>
> Dale never never never contemplates his navel from the inside;
> he is always impeccably groomed an wears suits which
> show off high, full breasts, tiny waist and wide hips.
> His navel, it could be said to be his one dissipation,
> an amusement in the cinematic portrayal of his unbearable intemperance.
>
> carmen>>
>
> i dunno quite whatchu talkin bout here, but i think i want his phone number.
Call Robert Maughan, although you may wish to wait until he gets back
from purchasing a dictionary with his food stamps, and visiting his
pedo-oralist in an attempt to get his Doctor Dentons out of his creepy
manhole.
Also, while I am both old enough and shapeless enough to have breasts of
a type, my waist is as bloated as Little Rubber Manga's cerebral
prostate which obstructs the full flow of his cognizance, while (oddly)
allowing the thin gruel of his pointless bile to pass in a full stream
over his own foot which he then (and only then) wedges tightly in his
mouth, which is on that head he stuffs up his pony's ass in some bizarre
attempt to get at the "mangos" that he purchased from the pigs in his
local "stys."
Dale
"I Feel Pretty, I Feel Witty..."
Dale Houstman
Rubber Magnet,
>
Your last reply was such a self-humilation that any sane man would
either apologize for shooting off his mouth without preparation and
cause, or just slide away like the slug you are. To go on allowing you
to use your aggression in place of your intelligence is to be cruel
quite beyond either my desire or ability. Your credibility is shot, my
little Bauble, and the frail bubble that was Bobby Em has been burst.
You should not have made such a pony's ass of yourself so loudly. It has
now gotten so bad, that suspicions of Alzheimer's or some other
corruption of the mental faculties are arising. Go to anger management,
and then pray that some medication might rebuild your intelligence to
some level of competence. Nothing this side of the grave will restore
your "status" and it is to be hoped that your wife still loves you, or
(as I suspect now) can at the very least pretend to put up with your
odious buffonery.
Of course, you shall saunter along, believing that your humiliating
self-defeat never happened (and we know denial is probably your one
saving grace at this point), but just as people will often turn
nervously away from scenes of other's embarrassments, I must turn away
from yours. Your continued presence makes many cringe now I fear, but
you may delude yourself that their shiver of shame for you is the
trembling of their fearful respect. Your best friends will never tell
you of your graceless tumble. And I cannot stand to stay in this arena
that you use to shit on your own body. As your anger grows your
character shrinks.
Get the help you need.
DMH
Dale Houstman
Sad...
DMH
Redclay 6
Call Robert Maughan, although you may wish to wait until he gets back
from purchasing a dictionary with his food stamps, and visiting his
pedo-oralist in an attempt to get his Doctor Dentons out of his creepy
manhole.
Also, while I am both old enough and shapeless enough to have breasts of
a type, my waist is as bloated as Little Rubber Manga's cerebral
prostate which obstructs the full flow of his cognizance, while (oddly)
allowing the thin gruel of his pointless bile to pass in a full stream
over his own foot which he then (and only then) wedges tightly in his
mouth, which is on that head he stuffs up his pony's ass in some bizarre
attempt to get at the "mangos" that he purchased from the pigs in his
local "stys."
Dale
"I Feel Pretty, I Feel Witty...">>
boy, you know how to sell it, done you.
Joshua P. Hill
<r...@etymon.demon.co.uk> wrote:
>
> Oh?
>
> And the debate is whether my poetry is too mundane, if you don't mind.
>Wait a minute, no, the mundane debate was about the Blake poem. This IS
>the prosaic debate. As you were.
>
> RJM.
Sorry about that--had my threads confused. I take back everything I
said. Hell, I take back everything I _didn't_ say.
Josh
Robert Maughan
Robert Maughan
Dale Houstman <dale.h...@gte.net>
>Rubber Magnet,
Run out of B words, I see. Curious business this resort to diminutives
and nicknames. Maybe someone can do the psych.
>Your last reply was such a self-humilation that any sane man would
>either apologize for shooting off his mouth without preparation and
>cause
My last reply was such simple prose, pal, and I assure you I feel no
humility, never mind any humiliation. You keep telling me that I feel
this and you did that to me and I'm sure it makes you feel better. It
makes me feel sorry for you, sure, but not enough to care about your
delusion.
>, or just slide away like the slug you are. To go on allowing you
>to use your aggression in place of your intelligence is to be cruel
>quite beyond either my desire or ability.
That's true. You rather lost it in your previous post, so I suppose you
better prepare the way. SLUG? Cheek. Pony's ass, I can understand. There
is absolutely no question you lack the ability, but I'm sure you have a
burning desire to be cruel without the ability. Kick a kitten, get it
off your chest.
>Your credibility is shot,
With whom? I'm a known troll. And you're a known arsehole. At least I
pay my way with poems. Even wrote two using your methodology. The books
were 'The Houseplant Expert' by Dr.D.G. Hessayon and Brewer's Phrase &
Fable. Poem Bud and ... something Dream, I forget.
>my
>little Bauble, and the frail bubble that was Bobby Em has been burst.
Nah, I'm here for you, pal. More diminutives. And your back on the B
words. Strange business.
>You should not have made such a pony's ass of yourself so loudly.
Loudly? Mate, I'm the quiet pony's ass type. It's kind of a reversal of
roles - I'm the quiet pony's ass and you're shitting yourself.
> It has
>now gotten so bad, that suspicions of Alzheimer's or some other
>corruption of the mental faculties are arising.
Fucking hell! Is there no specialization in the medical profession you
are NOT qualified in? I'm thinking of the fees. You must be LOADED! No
wonder you don't have a career. Dr. Dale Houstman. Has a ring to it, I
must say. Waydaminit. You're not going to tell me you're a gynecologist
as well? Dr. Dale (Open Wide) Houstman.
>Go to anger management,
>and then pray that some medication might rebuild your intelligence to
>some level of competence.
Anger management again already - what can I tell you? This huge grin on
my face (it's that last joke did it - I'll be all right in a minute) is
humour mismanagement? Nah, you won't get it.
>Nothing this side of the grave will restore
>your "status"
Status? Status? What fucking status are you on about? Status where? In
Usenet? Are you kidding? There's no status here, only states of play.
>and it is to be hoped that your wife still loves you, or
>(as I suspect now) can at the very least pretend to put up with your
>odious buffonery.
Good lord. You're fixated, mate. Herself thinks all this stuff is big
kids toys and rather silly. And how right she is. You're really having
a hard time differentiating between Usenet and life as it is lived on
the planet earth.
>Of course, you shall saunter along, believing that your humiliating
>self-defeat never happened (and we know denial is probably your one
>saving grace at this point)
Nah, I think you've completely won everything, mate, by your strategy.
I'll miss you, but at least I'll know you cared. You'll remember not to
confront me again, won't you? Should I visit another time, trolling as
usual. Tsk. What a way to behave. You're right about the sauntering,
though. Tell you what - I'll let you have three posts to three other
people in this thread telling them how horrid I am and how you did
this to me and how you did that to me and how you've triumphed over
evil and so forth, but if you get out of your pram, I'll come back
and fuck you over.
>, but just as people will often turn
>nervously away from scenes of other's embarrassments, I must turn away
>from yours.
Of course you must. Sure. Absolutely you must. It's a scene of such
embarrassment it's embarrassing. You turn away now ... but cover your
ass, cutes, or I'll throw another one in yer.
>Your continued presence makes many cringe now I fear
Many? There's no one here but you, me, and the chickens, mate. Why are
you so concerned about what adults may feel? You some kind of ... oh my
god! You're a ... I can't believe it.
>, but
>you may delude yourself that their shiver of shame for you is the
>trembling of their fearful respect.
Mate, look, I don't want this to come as a shock to you ... but you
can't tell when people are shivering or trembling, only that they're
writing. You see how that works?
> Your best friends will never tell
>you of your graceless tumble. And I cannot stand to stay in this arena
>that you use to shit on your own body.
Some of my best friends are a bunch of graceless bastards themselves, I
gotta tell you. You should see this place on snooker night. Of course I
quite understand you have to go. It's late, or early, or Sunday. Really,
I understand.
>As your anger grows your
>character shrinks.
>
Anger again ... you're a treat, mate.
>Get the help you need.
>
Oh sure, as if your professions aren't up to here with work already.
I'll get help all right yeah that's what I'll do get help sure somebody
call me a doctor.
RJM.
Dale Houstman
Redclay 6 wrote:
>
>
> boy, you know how to sell it, done you.
Who done you?
DMH
Dale Houstman
Rabid Maggot,
Your public parade of ignorance continues, but we won't call them floats
cause yours sank. You (being quite dense) will go down quickly but
probably never be aware that your boat has been capsized by the very
"throbbing member" that you once used as an excuse for wit, later as a
whip for your witlessness, and lately as a wipe for your pony's ass.
And we were all witnesses to your witlessness.
I knew you had your head up your ass, but I really never imagined you
would eat yourself from the inside out...
What a maroon...
DMH
Robert Maughan
Dale Houstman <dale.h...@gte.net>
>Rabid Maggot,
>
Oh, come on. Rotting Minge. Rectal Mucus. Renal Mildew. I mean Rabid
Maggot? Or is there a b/g "motif" in there? God knows I wouldn't put
it past you.
>Your public parade of ignorance continues, but we won't call them floats
>cause yours sank.
Blimey. Double meanings and single metaphors and everything. Ignorance
of what exactly? My float sank and here I am ... parading you in public.
So I'm ignorant of good manners I suppose. Tsk. Usenet, eh? People just
won't behave like you want them to, nearly.
>You (being quite dense)
Look, I'm getting sick of you stealing my "motifs". I've already called
you thick, so you can't call me dense. See? No good slightly varying it.
Get your own ideas. Cheap bitch.
>will go down quickly
Oooh. You SHEIKH!
>but
>probably never be aware that your boat has been capsized by the very
>"throbbing member" that you once used as an excuse for wit,
No, no, no, you cack brained wuzzock. The "throbbing member" goes down
your neck. Of course it could hole a boat, easily, but that's not the
point. NOT THE POINT! Geddit? Jeez. How do I do it?
> later as a
>whip for your witlessness,
A WHIP? Look, mate, before you go further with this - there's no way
I'm going to meet you, right. Let's get that straight. STRAIGHT! Will
it never stop? Hole a boat with my whip! Mapplethorpe had nothing on
you, pal.
> and lately as a wipe for your pony's ass.
>
Lately as a whoop for my pony's ass, mate. I can sling my throbbing
member over my shoulder, fuck myself in my pony's ass, pull it out of
my mouth, the member not the pony's ass, boink you right in the head,
AND tie a knot in it when it comes out of YOUR arse still throbbing.
I don't think you'll be disappointed.
>And we were all witnesses to your witlessness.
>
We? I keep telling you. There's no one here but you and me. You're my
stooge, see? This is a double act. And don't think I won't be watching
for you to steal THAT "motif". I've already put you in the stand up.
>I knew you had your head up your ass,
There you go AGAIN. You might at least let a few posts go by before you
nick my "motifs" god damn it. What's more, I said you had your head up
your arse twice.
>but I really never imagined you
>would eat yourself from the inside out...
No, you wouldn't. Imagination is something you choose a book for; it's
an "intuitive act". You use the book as "fodder". Right. Imagination
would cause your fucking brain to implode.
>What a maroon...
>
Oh perfect. Fucking fireworks. Pervert.
RJM.
pete...@my-deja.com
Dale Houstman <dale.h...@gte.net> wrote:
>
>
> Bobby,
>
> You're quick to anger, and so it can only be regretted that your
> intelligence is not as handily spurred, in order that you might have
> something to harness. As it is, you appear to be just a pony's ass.
>
>
You're a fucking dickhead.
r
pete...@my-deja.com
Dale Houstman <dale.h...@gte.net> wrote:
> Dale
> "I Feel Pretty, I Feel Witty..."
>
You may feel it, son ...
pete...@my-deja.com
Dale Houstman <dale.h...@gte.net> wrote:
I recommend a CAT scan and a
> complete neurological exam.
I've had both those things (the computer tomography is fairly
inconclusive, so it was followed up by MR), so I'm in a position to
inform you that you are an idiot.
> Bye bye little Buggy
>
> DMH
r
Dale Houstman
pete...@my-deja.com wrote:
>
> In article <3762D978...@gte.net>,
> Dale Houstman <dale.h...@gte.net> wrote:
>
> I recommend a CAT scan and a
> > complete neurological exam.
>
> I've had both those things (the computer tomography is fairly
> inconclusive, so it was followed up by MR), so I'm in a position to
> inform you that you are an idiot.
I can only fathom that this "position" you are in involves a certain
wedging of your kopf up your copro.
DMH
Michael Stephens
pete...@my-deja.com wrote:
>
> In article <37621611...@gte.net>,
> Dale Houstman <dale.h...@gte.net> wrote:
> >
> >
> > Bobby,
> >
> > You're quick to anger, and so it can only be regretted that your
> > intelligence is not as handily spurred, in order that you might have
> > something to harness. As it is, you appear to be just a pony's ass.
> >
> > DMH
> >
> You're a fucking dickhead.
>
> r
Let me know when we start talking about each other's mothers so I can
join in, okay?
ms
Dale Houstman
pete...@my-deja.com wrote:
> You're a fucking dickhead.
>
Man! That's clever. I printed it up and showed it to all my friends down
at the dockyards and they all laughed and said "He sure showed you!" I
think they were most impressed by your combination of "fucking" and
"dickhead" (something I am sure almost noone's ever done quite as
elegantly as that), and the way you went to all the trouble on logging
on and typing out something that would normally take an average
elementary school student all of five seconds to come up with. It just
seems so post-modern to utitlize all that technology to reproduce
bathroom scribbles. Is this the height of your intelligence and art, or
are you holding something back to reveal to us in the next millenium? A
daring mimicry of a fart joke? A stunning reproduction in black and
white of the classical "I am rubber, you are glue" routine? Also, are
you this quick and witty in person, or do you have to have the
contemplative calm of your inner cybersanctum to create these pithy
ripostes?
We are all impressed...
DMH
Michael Stephens
Boy, I know I am. What would have even been more impressive is if he had
taken the time to create a graphic to attach to his comment, say a
depiction of a fucking dickhead. Something with eyelashes perhaps, or a
pair of Groucho glasses with a fake nose. But perhaps that's asking for
too much.
ms
Dale Houstman
It is wrong to expect a literary genius to also be a graphic virtuoso
Michael. I know; one is always waiting for that perfection, in which all
the arts (plus some we haven't invented yet!) come together in a melange
of the marvelous and the muscular. For the moment, let us be thankful
that such a giant cares enough to share his pith and ginger with us, the
undeserving yet patiently awaiting fans of his timeless wisdom and wit.
I know his family must also be saints, to be willing to share such a
presence. May the walls of Valhalla (or at least the local high school
bathroom) be awash with his stunning phrases, which slowly (but surely)
guide us towards our long-lost Eden of Edam. Sweet Cheeses!
DMH
Michael Stephens
Dale Houstman <dale.h...@gte.net> wrote in message
news:376D0CAB...@gte.net...
>
> It is wrong to expect a literary genius to also be a graphic virtuoso
> Michael. I know; one is always waiting for that perfection, in which all
> the arts (plus some we haven't invented yet!) come together in a melange
> of the marvelous and the muscular. For the moment, let us be thankful
> that such a giant cares enough to share his pith and ginger with us, the
> undeserving yet patiently awaiting fans of his timeless wisdom and wit.
> I know his family must also be saints, to be willing to share such a
> presence. May the walls of Valhalla (or at least the local high school
> bathroom) be awash with his stunning phrases, which slowly (but surely)
> guide us towards our long-lost Eden of Edam. Sweet Cheeses!
>
> DMH
Indeed and alas. (Or alas and indeed.) I wait and wait for the Messiah, the
One Who will Guide Us. This isn't him then, huh? Ah well, dashed my hopes
again. Still, I did learn something from this. "Fucking Dickhead." Think
I'll have it tattooed somewhere on my person.
ms
cheddar late than never
Dale Houstman
Michael Stephens wrote:
>
>
> Indeed and alas. (Or alas and indeed.) I wait and wait for the Messiah, the
> One Who will Guide Us. This isn't him then, huh? Ah well, dashed my hopes
> again. Still, I did learn something from this. "Fucking Dickhead." Think
> I'll have it tattooed somewhere on my person.
>
It is feral haiku, or (as I call it) hackoo. We all have something to
learn from it.
Have it needled into your foreskin. This will hurt, but will somehow
help you to recall in finer detail the impact of such a primitive, yet
exquisitely post-romantic spurt of graceful gracelessness.
Ah! The leaves are falling! The winter of our disinfectent is icummen
in...
DMH
Michael Stephens
>
>
> Michael Stephens wrote:
> >
>
> >
> > Indeed and alas. (Or alas and indeed.) I wait and wait for the Messiah,
the
> > One Who will Guide Us. This isn't him then, huh? Ah well, dashed my
hopes
> > again. Still, I did learn something from this. "Fucking Dickhead." Think
> > I'll have it tattooed somewhere on my person.
> >
> It is feral haiku, or (as I call it) hackoo. We all have something to
> learn from it.
>
> Have it needled into your foreskin. This will hurt, but will somehow
> help you to recall in finer detail the impact of such a primitive, yet
> exquisitely post-romantic spurt of graceful gracelessness.
>
Oh but it's a good hurt. Too bad that I already have that area tattooed. (I
thought Heidi would have told you.) But I do have an elbow open. Is this
worth an elbow?
ms