Monday, May 19, 2008

Mine Dearest Diary,

Today I awoke feeling especially pungent, but did little to remedy this conundrum. Thus, I went all day long smelling like baked fish and stale almonds. Passersby did not deign to comment, their sneers giving away their secret disgust at my body's--no doubt--offensive odors!

Stenchability aside, the day lingered on obstinately, as it always does on Los Days de Mon! What can one do to placate a raging case of the Mondays other than to bash oneself in the face with a refrigerated, processed ham roast or a sledge of mold-caked cheddar, fresh from the "rot drawer"? Little to nothing, says this Sea-Bottom-Scuttler!

So, bash my face, I commenced to do! The soreness dissipated slowly and I regained my footing toward the hot dog stand. There, I ordered upwards of 200 "little" (to call a foot-long hot dog "little"!) hot doggies, at once consuming their number, was by was and meat by meat.

How are you today, my diary? Oh, silliest of minds, I have been self-seduced into complete insanity! To attempt conversation with an inanimate object such as thee, mine diary, equates only to the finest madness! Forgive me this momentary deviation; allow me re-relevancy!:

The day now nears its end. Alone, I find my mental wanderings complete as ever in their irrelevancy; not to the immediate tome, but to the world stretching away from its pixils (alas! Far historic be the days when one could lament over the wicked seductions of the pen, ink, and parchment! For now our eyes weaken by the glare of screens, cruel in their accessibility and ease, to the strengthening of fingers!).

Alas and alas! My musings accumulate to great stretches of verbosity and garrulousness!

Until another day, mine dearest diary!

--Marcela O'Bean

One man's word, another poet's find..
enjoyed reading you.

THANK YOU, Madam Sharris!

Tarry here again upon the morrow and thou shall perhaps behold another tome cataloging these days, not in poetic form, I pray thy pardon, but in the weakest, most insipid prose!

WOW! Truly Intoxicating Read!

Oh Thou hot and zippy one,
Do not fret nor pine
Undoubebtly, we all shall hear,
Such wonders,grace our mind.
s

bumbity bump

nicely done

Thank you, my sweets.
_______________________________________________________

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Mine Most Sanguine Tome,

Upon the beginning of the day, my heart sored! What a grand day today was! I cannot divulge details, for they are too great and wonderful to repeat!

Farewell!

--Sandra Bob

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Today, I awoke to a violent explosion! I had left the window opened the night before, and a pterodactyl busheled its nest outside my window on the sill! Well, it was actually partially inside the window. When I woke up this morning, the beast became flustered at my stirring, and began attacking me! It got so angry, however, that it simply exploded in my face, so I had a pterodactyl beak embedded in my right arm! The surgery went really well, actually! I did not scream as much as I had planned!

Today, I plan on gettin' me hair cut! ARG! ARG! Anyway, I'm not a pirate. So, I will probably ask for the stylist to give me a fro of some sort, if possible, but if not, I will inquire as to the possibility of mullets: The most beautiful hair style of them all--In all the land of Canaan!

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

That line struck me the first time I read it! It hit me like a ship! Like a big ship! T.S. Eliot certainly wrote some interesting things--OH, to be a crabbity crab!! OH, to write as Eliot! Oh, woe unto me! Woe!

Anyway, I hope the rest of the day goes pretty good (well)!

With the utmost sloppiness,

Esmeralda Titus

U dont happen to be scuttling across the floors of silents seas do you? thats the kind of ragged claws id like 2 b (TS Elliot paraphrase)

Uhhhhh...yes. Basically, I made several random allusions to (and direct quotations of, as in my post DIRECTLY before this) T.S. Eliot's The Love song Of J. Alfred Prufrock throughout this thread and in the thread's title, for absolutely no reason at all.

coool Elliots' the greatest poet ever (except maybe ginsberg)
Ironically a large amount of his phrases were "borrowed" from famous legends like dante and shakespere so much of what is attributed to him, he didnt write

Well, Eliot DID make a lot of ALLUSIONS to other famous poets, but that does not make his work unoriginal or entirely stolen. It's not as if he copied other poets' poems verbatim; I don't think he'd be famous if that were true.

I mean, Eliot has been credited with writing some of the most stylistically unique poems ever; his style is not easy to mimic because it varies and stretches in so many odd and unpredictable directions. He was a genius, basically.

Not that I'm saying you disagree with that, but...just saying!

Had my attention good one

oh yes he was a genius i just meant that elliots' poetry had a similar quality to rap-mashups of today
Oddly enough he's also responsible for the poems that andrew lloyd webber turned into cats

Thanks, Texas Gal.

Uhhhh...Not sure if I agree with that one (simply because I loathe all-things rap, frankly, and adore Eliot, and mingling the two even by association makes my heart cringe). What do you mean by "rap-mashups"?

Really? You mean, Webber took a lot of inspiration from Eliot's poetry?

I mean this: in rap/hip hop many artists loop in phrases and sounds from other more well known songs, some to better effect than others, which is in effect what elliot did with the old masters' poetry
and yes Cats is based on Old Possums' Book Of Practical Cats

Loved it, truely mind working

I see. Gotcha. And that's a funny connection.

THANKS...Thanks, BluesPreacher!

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Mine most inanimate listener,

Ach, woe unto me! For the day hath fallen into distress and taken this writer with it! I am beset by confusion and doldrums, mine dear listener, and what will alleviate it? Oh, woe unto me!

This morning, when I hesitated to wake, the sun seemed to have brightened by summer and thus risen in intensity, making it difficult to sleep as long and deeply as I had intended! Mine rest has been broken--oh, woe!

I might go to MacDonald's later today, if time and convenience allows. Mmm. I have always passionately disliked Mickey D's, simply because their every morsel of food is laden with grease and beset by insipidity! Where shalt I dine? "Where shalt"!

I fear mine mood lends itself now to prolonged soliloquy: In this--mine most sordid hour--I find mine thoughts scuttling, scuttling at the deepest sea bottom, ragged and alone and moving--utterly, irreparably alone and moving without course! But it is here--in these isolated depths of water--I stay and am utterly meant to be, for this is all mine character's and being's propensity and home; Mine tenure; Mine preoccupation; Mine cellar...

Should I--in realization of this relentless state--bow to ennui and its harshest conclusion? Should I descend--as many of mine kin in all of history who have in this oceanic tome been buried--into what, unmasked, is death...?

NO, NOT UNTO DEATH SHALL I MOVE! For even as the sun twists and strands on the far above ocean surface, shall I strand and shall I, even when strewn across the great face of this rippling quagmire, be no less what I am and so no less given to life! It is mine to live for the purposes above even as I strain in the depths of crawling forward--through every heaviest forward.
_______________________________________

Time to go drink some coffee!

With renewed affection,

Penelope Wagglefeet.

Captain's Log, supplemental:

Never Mind!