Friday, August 22, 2008
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
gosh, and there i was
all worried to be
showing my 3-year-old
in that first batch of movies
i ever bought for her.
beloved nannies flying away,
cackling wicked witches,
bad guy threatening to kill little redhead. . .
at none of these did she flinch.
but that innocent little show
about the boy and his red balloon?
worry & tears
turned to flat out hysterics.
why was he letting go of his balloon???
no words to console.
the movie had to be cut short,
for fear of forever traumatizing
by the little boy who just wouldn't
grab that dang balloon.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
from Dorothy Parker's
"Why, thank you so much. I'd adore to.
I don't want to dance with him.
I don't want to dance with anybody.
And even if I did, it wouldn't be him. He'd be well
down among the last ten. I've seen the way he dances;
it looks like something you do on Saint Walpurgis Night.
Just think, not a quarter of an hour ago,
here I was sitting, feeling so sorry for the poor girl
he was dancing with. And now I'm going to be the poor girl.
Well, well. Isn't it a small world?
And a peach of a world, too. A true little corker.
It's events are so fascinatingly unpredictable,
are not they? Here I was, minding my own business,
not doing a stitch of harm to any living soul.
And then he comes into my life, all smiles
and city manners, to sue me for the favor
of one memorable mazurka.
Why, he scarcely knows my name, let alone
what it stands for. It stands for
Despair, Bewilderment, Futility, Degradation,
and Premeditated Murder, but little does he wot.
I don't wot his name, either; I haven't any idea what it is.
Jukes, would be my guess from the look in his eyes.
How do you do, Mr. Jukes? And how is that dear
brother of yours, with the two heads?
Ah, now why did he have to come around me,
with his low requests? Why can't he let me lead my
own life? I ask so little--just to be left alone
in my quiet corner of the table, to do my
evening brooding over all my sorrows.
And he must come, with his bows and his scrapes and his
may-I-have-this-ones. And I had to go and tell him
that I'd adore to dance with him.
I cannot understand why I wasn't struck right down dead.
Yes, and being struck dead would look like a day
in the country, compared to struggling out a dance
with this boy. But what could I do?
Everyone else at the table had got up to dance,
except him and me. There I was, trapped.
Trapped like a trap in a trap.
What can you say, when a man asks you to dance
with him? I most certainly will not dance
with you, I'll see you in hell first.
Why, thank you, I'd like to awfully,
but I'm having labor pains. Oh, yes,
do let's dance together--it's to nice
to meet a man who isn't a scaredy-cat
about catching my beri-beri.
No. There was nothing for me to do, but say
I'd adore to. Well, we might as well get it
over with. All right, Cannonball, let's
run out on the field. You won the toss;
you can lead.
Why, I think it's more of a waltz, really.
Isn't it? We might just listen
to the music a second. Shall we?
Oh, yes, it's a waltz. Mind? Why, I'm
simply thrilled. I'd love to waltz with you.
I'd love to waltz with you. I'd love to
waltz with you. I'd love to have my tonsils out,
I'd love to be in a midnight fire at sea.
Well, it's too late now. We're getting under way.
Oh. Oh, dear. Oh, dear, dear, dear.
Oh, this is even worse than I thought
it would be. I suppose that's the
one dependable law of life--
everything is always worse than you
thought it was going to be.
scripted by o charm at 7:35 AM
Monday, August 18, 2008
i only remember doing it once.
one hot summer evening
for an fhe treat
so many moons ago.
back in the days
when the backyard's garden plenty
was on our kitchen table daily.
oh, how i dream of
such a blessing now. . .
but i'll never forget
that delectable dessert
dipped in sour cream and brown sugar.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
mounds of paperwork
months of running here
a passport full of russian visas
a truckload of red tape
and i left this
jewel of a passport office
wiping my brow
with a stamp in my passport
my first step in getting that
russian green card.
plenty of work ahead.