Friday, February 22, 2008

Black is the color of my true love's mood


Ivan has got the flu and is is drinking again. Drinking till de debbil is burned out of his frenetic bod. Trying to blog unders such conditions is nigh onto impossible. He rolls a bowling ball through this particular bowling alley in hell , and is soon trapped under the oddity of his own ten-pin ball, his opening paragraph.

Wherever you go, people are after your immortal soul--a damn precious thing to lose.
In the case of us men, especially us wanderers it's usually a woman: " I will give you anything you want. I am sentient. I am a planet attracted to you. I can produce a flower for you , even out of of rock."


Well. When you have crows and ravens whistling though your head like that, it's time for another drink.
Gotta stay happy and not let de debbil take you soul.
Oh Daddy!

I swear the Klan is after me.

Oh brother, where art thou?

They don't like Roman Catholics either.


I'm so black. From a song, The Klan:


From down the hill the riders came

Jesus! it was a crying shame

To see the blood upon their whips

And mark the scarlet

of their lips


Oh sister

Lift my bloody head

It's not easy

to be dead


Oh brother

Won't you stand by me

It's not easy

to be free


It is black history month.


I am drinking black Domorerra rum.


And strange thoughts come my way.


One is somehow black.

Like Hal, the computer out of the genius movie, 200l.


"I am coming apart, Dave. I can feel it Dave."

I can feel it.

33 comments:

TomCat said...

Ivan, whatever you're on, my friend, share! ;-)

ivan@cretivewriting.ca said...

Tomcat,

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

"You mean your're going to have all that stuff and not share it with us?"

Hee.

Anonymous said...

Hal became comfortably numb.....it's something to reach for......


..........................

ivan@creativewrtiting.ca said...

Anonymous,

I think I know who you are, doll.
And thanks for commenting.

Anonymous said...

Grow Your SmallDick...

* ROCK SOLID hardness that feels bigger, wider and fuller (to you and to HER)
* THROBBING powerful blood flow to thePenis
* ALL-NIGHT staying power

You can't go wrong. It's doctor and herbalist endorsed
It's used and recommended bySex industry professionals

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Oh yes, yes,

I want this product. No problem.
You have a live one! :)

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Middle Ditch said...

You can't be that ill! Your still blogging!

Ivan, would you like to write an episode of Middle Ditch? If not, that's ok, but you are a good writer. If yes, I'll be back a little later and fill you in.

Anonymous said...

"Folly and error................
...............................

Just as a lustful pauper bites and kisses
The scarred and shrivelled breast of an old whore,
We steal,along the roadside,furtive blisses,
Squeezing them like stale oranges for more..........."

Baudelaire

black is black, down to the very blues...wayfarer,keepest thy faith...even Bojangles got new shoes

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Middle Ditch,

Flattered, Monique.

But it looks like I'll be under the weather for a while.
I didn't look after my teeth properly, and I'll probably be in better shape once they're fixed--seems to affect the entire organism...mushy food.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Anonymous #3,

Baudelaire did that too?

Last time I had a girlfriend while lonely and homeless, I wanted to play "spoons" in bed, but she just said, "Get away from me", and "You were snoring."
I guess I'm mixing apples and uh...oranges?

Lenny Bruce: "When you're in that shape, you'd f*ck mud.
"Yeah. Mud!"

Josie said...

Ivan, you need to get better.

Fast.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Josie,

The evil witch has turned me into a newt.

Hope I get betta!

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

p.s. to Josie,

Nice pic!

Monique said...

Maybe another time eh?

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Monique,

Definitely another time. I would be proud to contribute to your "Middle Ditch" play.

I am, as Australians, might say,
"chuffed" at the offer, though the last time I wrote a play the cast who read it said, "Could we do it during intermission?"
LOL.

ea monroe said...

Ivan, I'd love to read an episode you'd write for middle ditch!! Hope you get well soon and pass the "good stuff." ;-) ~Liz

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Liz,

Yeah, the good stuff.

I mistook this comment for an email and just sent you a reply that way.
Gotta get a grip,
grip. LOL

Burning out the old lobes; gotta get off this machine for a bit, I think.

need a drink.

benjibopper said...

at times like those i like to pretend i'm a photographer.

coincidentally i'm writing about the brown spruce beetle these days. any subject for a buck. (though i'd prefer a buck a word.)

fear not, the ides of march are on their way.

and don't forget what justin rutledge said about vienna:

'the hookers there read boudelaire atop the cobblestones'

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Liz,

My site does do mysterious things to me.
And I do some wacky things to it as well.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Benji,

Paris hookers read Baudelaire?

Smart little f*ckers! :)

Donnetta Lee said...

Black mood, black thoughts, black drink. Actually, black is a good color. Keep your accounts in the black. And there are all kinds of accounts to keep.
Donnetta

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Wisdom.

Charles Gramlich said...

Booze is like a hatchet. Trims away the deadwood. Blazes the trail. Smooths the bark. Leaves blood and brains behind.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Charles,

On the booze, yep.
So many brain cells lost, though hooch is a great enemy of the blues and it seems to inhibit fatigue.
Strange how it doesn't seem to affect the "reptilian" brain--how to get home, how to recognize other "reptiles" and how to find food.
The operative cognitive abilities seem almost indestructible, though Lord knows I've been hit over the head in many a bar fight.
...And many times by a spanking-clean Senor Ron Bacardi.

ea monroe said...

Hi, Ivan. I received your email from my comment. I emailed back but the email was returned -- the mail administrator said you didn't exist!! ~Liz ;-)

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Liz,

Oh-oh,

You Quarks are forever asking me to produce my autobiography somewhere.
We have finally been helped by the mail administrator:

THE TOTALLY UNTRUE STORY OF IVAN...?

Hee.

Inside our hands, outside our hearts said...

Ivan... all I can say is DAMN! You need a hug? I would gladly give you one. I too have been sick, so I understand how you must be feeling. Perhaps we should crawl into bed and stay warm together? Ha!

Get well Ivan.... I love reading your mania. It makes me feel at home. Now sit down and I will share my book of Baudelaire with you, as well as a drink. You know he is one of my favorites, just like you.

Soft love,
T

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Hi "Anonymous",

Woo Hee!

As I used to have to confess to the priest at Catholic school,
"I think I've just had a pollution!"

Sexy thang.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Looks like the Quarks and Ms. Va-Va-Vavoom--are pulling old Ivan out of his funk.
Hm. Bathos. Is that something you dive into? Like a hot tub?

Monique said...

Ivan, ten to twelve pages, double space as in radio, fx if you need it, use any character you want, but not John and if you want to, create another character just for that episode. Don't feel pressurized though. I have all the time in the world. You can do it in ten years time if you want to.

How do you make the sound effect of a car crash when you are inside of said car?

Hug

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Okay,

Something's up here.

Bee rattling arund in my crash helmet.

The sound of crash inside the car?
Crash of cymbal, with pianoforte stopper.
At least that's what I felt and heard when I got badly smacked in Arkansas. Knocked me cold.

Monique said...

I'll keep that in mind. But what is a piano stopper?

ivan@cretivewriting.ca said...

Monique,

I've got to cut down on my drinking.
For a writer, the message sent can not be a message misunderstood.

The piano-stopper: It's that tear-shaped felt piece inside the piano that stops a note from sounding.

A drunken story goes with this.

Explorer Amudsen, faced with open water while on an ice floe, wires to London: "Send three punts and a canoe."

Answer comes back: "Well, we got the young ladies all right...you are coming in garbled though...What's a panoe?"

Seriously, I've got to get off this stuff. :)