Archive for December, 2013

Wednesday, December 11th, 2013

 

Mahler’s Complete Symphonies
Poe’s Complete Tales
Lawson’s Complete Recipes
Cooper’s Complete Jokes
God’s Complete Mistakes

Tuesday, December 10th, 2013

 

The birds have returned. Are returning.
A sheltered coming of a season.
For all we say, we do think of some times.

Monday, December 9th, 2013

 

from Flirts in Skirts

Scene: the bathroom under a chap’s bed.

Jed: My trousers have acquired a dreadful disease.
Bud: Of a sexually transported nature?
Jed: Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Bud: Well, that’s very Elizabethan. Or Romantic. Or even Victorian. Perhaps it’s also Postmodern, come to think of it.
Jed: I transcend historical and aesthetic periods.
Bud: Sexually transported diseases, it goes without saying , are the invention of Satan. He invented them to put a dash of fear and restraint into the otherwise fun pastime of coitus.
Jed: At least it’s only my trousers.
Bud: For now. It will spread unless you take the appropriate action. I suppose Betty is to blame.
Jed: It could be Betty. Or Lorraine. Or Coco. Or Beatrice. Or Suki. Or Chantelle. Or the Anderson twins.
Bud: You are a man rabbit.

Sunday, December 8th, 2013

 

I like to watch cattle. The beauty of cows.
Steam rising from their flanks in the autumn sunshine.
The winter feed is in the sheds.

Saturday, December 7th, 2013

 

On the other
hand perhaps
nothing will
happen to break
this fragility.

Friday, December 6th, 2013

 

One day in the future all this will come back to haunt me
like when you open the refrigerator and see a supper you forgot to eat
and that night you are unable to sleep because you are trying to explain it away.

Thursday, December 5th, 2013

 

Even a moron knows how the way to get what you want is not by open warfare but by underhand politicking, and to woo a waif one has to be more subtle than the most subtle creature crawling in the dust.

Wednesday, December 4th, 2013

 

This afternoon we sat looking out at the trees,
and my eye wandered across to the bookshelf
and back to the trees and somehow there was a connection
begging to be made but I was all out of ideas and a little hungry.

Tuesday, December 3rd, 2013

 

With age comes not what you would call wisdom but what I would call an overwhelming inability to accept how you’re running out of time.

Monday, December 2nd, 2013

 

Tools rust from disuse.
Sometimes it is hard to leave the bed.
This place is frozen in time.