Saturday, January 31, 2009

"Oh the horse stood around, with his foot on the ground"

Droll blog.

Like many another borderline alcoholic, I am trying to use the hooch as a reward. Don't get up to a drink. Get up to a poem, or at least a beginning of a novel. Never mind the alchol bites. Produce. Produce anything. Then, at least you will have an excuse for your afternoon imbibling. You can use the drinking as a reward.

Ah, nice if it could come that way.

Harkens back to old Ezra Pound, who was not a drunk, but a madman who certainly had come to my impasse.:

For years he strove to resuscitate the dead art
Wrong from the start.

The dead art.
The dead art.

Must resuscitate the dead art
Ah, who the hell are you, Art?
Gave my life for art.
Laboured mightily, and seemingly produced a mouse.

Ah, there are palliatives.
Forty- ouncer of rum in the cupboard.

And yet, that's the reward, not the means.

Gotta try, gotta try.

Let's see. Another lead about the wigged-out professor.

Let's see now:

Something is happening to Professor Ilya Kovalenko.
It is happening Ilya Kovalenko, is happening, as he had always dreaded, happening to him in public, before students, yes, a public breakdown.
Yes, a crack-up on this glorious, but unnaturallly chilly high- level Mexican campus, with its stone arches and porticos among the flowering Bogainvillea and cultivated prickly pears, a jewel in the blue hills of Guanajuato, the cooling paradise of his new life.
Cooling indeed. For he had just received a "Dear Ilya" from his
Jewish wife.

Well, not bad, I suppose. All the style and at least one buzzword is there.
Can't--dare not--open with a dull paragraph.
But the hot ember is gone.
Artificial fire must come.
Cold fusion.

Never mind Art. Ron is my friend now.
That spic Ron Bacardi.

Talk like Hemingway.
Drink like Hemingway.
Heh. This, at least I can do.
Oh what a great friend I have in Ron.
He can so grease your optimism.
Not like that Ezra Poundoff.

But this is blasphemy.
Pound took a piece of crap like The Wasteland and made a poem for all time out of it. Never mind that piker Eliot. Eliot needed a fix.
I need a fix.

And so with that, cheers.
Raise a drink to yer.

"Oh the horse stood around with his foot on the ground
The horse stood around with his foot on the ground.
The horse stood around with his foot on the ground.
The horse stood around with his foot on the ground."

(Second verse. Same as the first....A litle bit louder, and a little bit worse):

"Oh the horse stood around with his foot on the ground
The horse stood around with his foot on the ground
The horse stood around with his foot on the ground...

Migod, I have broached the first part of a play here, maybe like like Equus

Now, why can't I write like that.

"Because you are a fucking drunk," says the shrink.

Ah. Guilt--edged advice.


Time to pop the cork.

This I can do.

Rally well.

Ein prosit!


Lana Gramlich said...

Lord knows "the system" sure drives a person to it...

Charles Gramlich said...

My family done give up on me. And it makes me fell oh so sad. The only one who'll even hang out with me is my dear Old Grandad. said...

Thanks Gramiches.

My friend Tommy the Commie and old draft dodger, says, "Look at what this society has done to us.!

Donnetta Lee said...

Much hand wringing going on. Maybe do a tit for tat all day long: one poem; one drink-one page; one drink-one post; one drink. And so it goes and so it goes and where it stops nobody knows. D said...

Well, I used to fool around with musical instuments. Picked up a guitar-like instrument called a tipple.
I tipple a lot.

the walking man said...

When the doubt rises I don't do compromises. Beam me up Jim I find the pickens to slim on this here planet Goddamnit.

So Uh Ivan when your brain is pickled would you send it my way so I can osmos me some is? said...

Aw shucks.

Anonymous said...

Straight thoughts 175
February 1st, 2009

Some “humanist” leaders, including some radio talk show hosts and many TV commentators, believe as a matter of faith that a baby conceived in the mother’s womb is not a human being until some undetermined time before birth. Even their name is inconsistent: they should be called “non-humanists”.

Their proposition of faith seems to have more popular success than the position of major religion leaders on life issues.

Major religious leaders are often criticized for “imposing their faith” on others. However, in the last fifty years, their moral leadership advocating the protection of human life has been found to match the current scientific knowledge about the unborn: They are human (46 chromosomes) and living (growing within the mother’s body with an independent brain, heart, circulation system, etc.).

We are witnessing an inversion of roles: the “humanists” are non-humanists by faith, while the main religious leaders are the real humanists, promoting scientific knowledge and the paramount value of all human life.

Because of the success of the non-humanist faith, some doctors get away with the Hippocratic Oath (literally get away with murder) and many politicians and judges can avoid exercising their duty: The first duty of government is protecting the lives of its citizen.

Those people, who attack religious leaders for their “arrogance” in opposing public programs for “reproductive choice” around the world, condone the current abortion holocaust because of their faith in “non-humanism”. While they are horrified by the thought of young mothers who could die from botched abortions, they blindly go along with the large scale extermination of their daughters by abortion. They are comparable to the middle ages fanatics, who burnt at the stake “witches” (or condoned their killing) because they “believed” in witchcraft.

Exposing the scientific ignorance of these non-humanists is the first step towards a more informed, less violent and more just society.

Giuseppe Gori
Leader, Family Coalition Party of Ontario. said...

Thanks Giuseppe.

Post-modernism gone mad.

I'm from the old school, where they told me a human being had 48 chromosomes and not 46.

Maybe it's the metric system.

Says Fred Dobbs, of Beamsville, (comedian Don Herron): "If God had meant us to go metric, he would have given us ten apostles."

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