first night back in town
this place looks like a hotel room
feels like you’re just passing through, and in a way you are
the television set, cable connection, and internet signal all add to this
plus, the pictureless walls and empty hangers
the lonesomeness, and the dim voices from on the other side of every wall
the return to a web-log
the roaming lust
the lateness of the night, etc.
much belongs to leaders
Rufus the Knight: A Cautionary Tale
Rufus is a foolish boy, and a boyish fool.
Rufus inherits a sword, shield, and suit of armor one day, and he praises his good fortune. He wears the suit and carries the shield and brandishes the sword until his muscles do not move. After some weeks Rufus finds when he awakes that he is strong indeed, and so decides to test his gifts against the wild wolves which are afflicting all the towns nearby. And to each one in turn peace and justice are brought down by Rufus. His triumphs earn him knighthood from the king of the region, who also enriches him with gold and land—and the hand of his daughter in marriage. By now a year has passed since that fateful day of inheritance, and now the green eyes of the neighboring kingdom are anchored in the harvest of prosperity Rufus’ doings have sown.
On the anniversary of his decision Rufus wakes from troubled dreams to a strange clamor being raised from below his chambers. Urgent knocking falls on his door as he rises, but he is drawn away to his balcony by cruel noises from the town. What meets his eyes bends his knees, and makes him despair: a host of foreign knights outfitted for battle have been deployed, and are laying waste everywhere they go. Finally his servants break down the door and implore him, “My lord, your lands are aflame. Your gold is stolen—and your wife, the princess, is slain. War is upon you!” With wet cheeks Rufus turns and bewails his bad fortune: “Curse the heavens, that such days of woe should visit me unprepared in my young age!”
A hot wind, screams riding on it, blows through the broken window of the town chapel and tears open the Bible there to the Book of Job.
And Rufus, with his sword, shield, and suit of armor, is a fool.
a smile was gleaming on your face, but it felt like a feather on your lips
you let it slip off for a second, just to feel what was underneath it
just to feel what was hidden by you under the brush of an
and it felt awful to let up, it felt awful to breathe real
and you knew that the face you had been holding looked as awful as it felt
that bad spirits truly look like themselves when they pretend to be the better kind
that devils look like devils when wearing angel’s feathers
and you felt like hell
your heart twisted in you, like leaping flames, like writhing snakes
you were tortured inside yourself because, and you realized as you let go for a moment
that you had already gone, that you were already far away, called there by siren voice
and the angel song turned to tuneless despair, falling down on a deaf soul
you felt the wickedness of your staying
you felt wrong and were tortured
because out of yourself came up the knowledge that you had no love for this
no love for those around you anymore, no love for yourself or God
you had only the love of the idea and the love of leaving to it
the love of living for it instead, and it had you there with it
but you were here alone, cold and furious
then you lifted your lifeless arm and replaced the mask
you wandered the room, waiting and aching for the next second closer to departure
and you looked forward to it, and out to yourself, and wanted only to be whole again
not forked like a dragon’s tongue, not two-face, not dead
you wanted to live and not in hell, but in the heaven where you felt called
and the disconnect and the dissonance came from your silent inaction
the darkness of mind and the blackness of humor were the result
for you were in debt to the jealous gods, who want blood
who so gave you ecstasy that you might kill yourself
inspiration is that gentle torture
You’re saying out loud, “Oh,
I’m so sleepy that
My eyes feel salty and
My hands feel heavy.” Yeah,
You’re so sleepy.
So, so sleepy.
This commercial seems to be entirely in the style of Wes Anderson’s “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” … huh.
But thank goodness the advertisers included strong, obvious signals of due credit in this homage paid to a kids movie and its director.
And thank goodness that the same company which distributes Anderson’s films and rakes in revenue over them, treats the source of its inflow with courtesy. (Too often one sees businessmen taking on the manner of back-alley pimps, and severely exploiting their capitalized media; not Netflix!)
Instead of misappropriating art, it’s evident in the piece above that this company is a cut-above. Thank goodness Netflix makes more than money off art, it makes art!
Thank goodness the company that has almost single-handedly reduced the business form of the local video store to a paragraph in the pages of recent history, and made millions from it, has the tact to spend its competitive dollars on decent advertising!
Thank goodness: or else somebody might get mad!
(Rhyming) Words of Wisdom
You’re hungry again (and again and again and again).
Gee, it’s like a cycle or something … a vicious, delicious cycle.
And voracious too, or you are. And capacious too, or your stomach is.
And what you’re saying is, indeed, veracious, but
You’re erring on loquacious. If you
Want to be sagacious, as well as
(with respect to your body’s desire) efficacious—
Hell, if you want to be vivacious!—
You shall eat. And about that fact, you’ll be pertinacious,
Tenacious even! But don’t be rapacious, or audacious!
Or you’ll be overfed, and eventually fat.
You’re so hungry that it feels like
Your stomach is swallowing itself, and like
Your stomach is gulping down air
Just to eat and drink something
No bueno :(
Go get something real for yourself!
You’re superhero tired.
You’ve been up for more than twenty-four hours,
Which isn’t healthy, but
You spent most the night laughing with your friends,
Which is healthy. So,
It all balanced out, right? Well…
Not quite. But it’s bedtime anyway.