Back Hair and Mannish Things

I am always surprised by shit like this, but shouldn't be. Do you, like me, suffer from Robin Williams-grade back hair? Then the MANGROOMER is just the gadget for you. As the ad says, now I can shave my back in the "privacy of my own home". Like, who the !#$# would consider doing it anywhere else? Let's see, cut grass, trim hedges, embalden (my word) my back.

Cotton for Pres

The similarities are shocking.

Kobe's Lesson in Comebacks

Hey Kobe, here's a witty comeback for you.

Celtics down 24 in the 3rd but they comeback to win.

Off the Charts Witty

Definitely headline news. Kobe Bryant has a witty comeback. I have one for Kobe: "The Jerk Store called, and they're running out of you." (Thanks to GC for that one.) See, the cleverness of it is that Schilling plays for a team other than the Yankees. See? Get it? A rival team.

Let's Hear It

Up to my alligators in eyeballs this weekend with freelance writing, and I LOVE IT. Yeah, thank you busy Gods. Thank you for throwing a small measure of purpose and income my way. I went running today to take a break from work and listened to several songs, new to me, on the iPod. So, if you are an 80s music freak like me, please check these songs out - there is something in each that reminds me of 80's alt. I thinks you will be XXXXX happy.

Bitches in Tokyo - The Stars
Love & Death - The Stills
Love You More - The Hours
What a Waster - The Libertines
Speed Date - Arab Strap

Believe in ....

Gimme a break. McCain co-ops Obama's theme, changes a word, calls it his. How sad for him.


Obama
Change We Can Believe In

McCain
A Leader We Can Believe In.


Regardless, neither candidate is very original with their slogans. See below

Hot Chocolate
I believe in miracles, where you from? you sexy thing.

Fox Mulder
I Want to Believe

Dennis Rodman
Why should I try to make you believe the things I believe in?

Theodore Kaczynski
I believe in nothing.

Happy Birthday Rainer Walker Woodruff

Rainer, our first son, would be 10 today. What a big boy. Miss you dearly kid. Rainer Walker Woodruff, June 4, 1998 - July 14, 1998.

Sonnet Sequence, George Santayana

To. W. P.

I
Calm was the sea to which your course you kept,
Oh, how much calmer than all southern seas!
Many your nameless mates, whom the keen breeze
Wafted from mothers that of old have wept.
All souls of children taken as they slept
Are your companions, partners of your ease,
And the green souls of all these autumn trees
Are with you through the silent spaces swept.
Your virgin body gave its gentle breath
Untainted to the gods. Why should we grieve,
But that we merit not your holy death?
We shall not loiter long, your friends and I;
Living you made it goodlier to live,
Dead you will make it easier to die.


II


With you a part of me hath passed away;
For in the peopled forest of my mind
A tree made leafless by this wintry wind
Shall never don again its green array.
Chapel and fireside, country road and bay,
Have something of their friendliness resigned;
Another, if I would, I could not find,
And I am grown much older in a day.
But yet I treasure in my memory
Your gift of charity, your mellow ease,
And the dear honour of your amity;
For these once mine, my life is rich with these.
And I scarce know which part may greater be,--
What I keep of you, or you rob of me.


III


Your bark lies anchored in the peaceful bight
Until a kinder wind unfurl her sail;
Your docile spirit, wingèd by this gale,
Hath at the dawning fled into the light.
And I half know why heaven deemed it right
Your youth, and this my joy in youth, should fail;
God hath them still, for ever they avail,
Eternity hath borrowed that delight.
For long ago I taught my thoughts to run
Where all the great things live that lived of yore,
And in eternal quiet float and soar;
There all my loves are gathered into one,
Where change is not, nor parting any more,
Nor revolution of the moon and sun.


IV


In my deep heart these chimes would still have rung
To toll your passing, had you not been dead;
For time a sadder mask than death may spread
Over the face that ever should be young.
The bough that falls with all its trophies hung
Falls not too soon, but lays its flower-crowned head
Most royal in the dust, with no leaf shed
Unhallowed or unchiselled or unsung.
And though the after world will never hear
The happy name of one so gently true,
Nor chronicles write large this fatal year,
Yet we who loved you, though we be but few,
Keep you in whatsoe'er is good, and rear
In our weak virtues monuments to you.

Doot Doot Doot Lookin Out My Back Door

I spy Whit leaping around in a puddle he made with the hose. Mud lucious and puddle wonderful indeed.

Rice Rejects McClellan's Book ...

and Pebble Lake Review rejects yours truly.

I just don't get it.

Tides of My Hair, Where I'm Pendulous & Dank, and Coughing Up Dark Bits are among my best poems ;)

Review of Sam Hamill's Measured by Stone

My review of Sam Hamill's new book is up on Rattle now. Have a look.

Carruth Haiku

A few haiku from Hayden Carruth ...

Why speak of the use
of poetry? Poetry
is what uses us.


Ah, you beast of love,
my cat, my dove, my spider
-- too late I'm natured.


A hard journey. Yes,
it must be. At the end they
all fall asleep.


Your tears, Niobe,
are your children now. See how
we have multiplied.


So be it. I am
a wholeness I'll never know.
Maybe that's the best.