Monday, December 31, 2007

Now and then / an Elvis variation

Now and then
there’s a fool such as I

Now and then
there’s a clown such as I

Now and then
there’s a wise man such as I

We do get together
now and then

Some of us fools, clowns, wise men
such as I

To be foolish, clown around
and crack wise

– Len “Not the King” B.

Note
In response to the "Now & Then" prompt at Sunday Scribblings, I chose the lighter "now and then" version to inspire me.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Preparing for breakfast with Frank

It’s all quite hectic,
there must be music on the turntable
(his beloved late French classical stuff)
before he enters the bathroom to shave,
only to come out at irregular intervals
to drop me a witticism in the kitchen or,
later, on the balcony, where I’m sitting
with something to read. To make some
sort of a point, like, “Look, I’m busy
even though you’re here and we both
know that you’re a full-attention kind
of guy.”

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2007)

Note
For some reason I tried to picture what it would be like to have Frank O’Hara over for breakfast.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

A look out the window

Change is imminent in the form of an office move. The streets, buildings and sky I see through this window I will most likely never again see from here.

  • KFC with its corner towerlet and oversize colonel serving container on top
  • The power plant with its gigantic chimneys, not all stark grey and white in a postmodern industrial improvement attempt – yes, there are steel green and pale lilac parts
  • The new Penny Market with its aluminum diner design and neatly outlined parking spaces
  • Beyond it the pale olive green and drab grey of a car plant, with the giveaway star circling above
  • More industrial building layers with pipes, windows, chimneys
  • The Kart-o-Mania rink
  • Life: flags fluttering, cars driving by, dropping and imbibing people
  • Late November: big, slow-moving clouds, white and grey, with fuzzy windows to blue sky

That's it for now.

Monday, November 5, 2007

A green light day

I
love
it when
lights turn green
as I cross and things
go my way. No red lights now, please.

– Leonard Jaywalker Blumfeld (© 2007)

Cautionary note
One green traffic light a day doth not make (as a single swallow a summer doth not make) ...

Friday, October 26, 2007

Everests looming up ahead

Today's Astrocenter horoscope said:
If this month were a mountain, today is the day you would plant your flag on its summit. But before you go back down into the valley, it might be wise to take a look at the path you took to get there, and ahead to your future, especially since you may be a little depressed about not reaching even higher peaks. Not everyone can climb Mount Everest. Perhaps you are in training for an even higher climb to the top!
Is there any truth to it?
  • There's some truth, but more about the "little depressed" part.
  • I definitely feel like I'm in training. Most of the time. Like just about everyone else.
  • Today's summit feels like a minor mountain pass at most. But there are a few hours left to climb higher, right?
  • I'm definitely not in flag planting mood. What flag?
  • Should I worry about lack of oxygen with the peaks looming up ahead?

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

I am another

Je suis un autre
– Arthur Rimbaud

I
am
anoth-
er, one with
cruel blue eyes, with
cool hardness. “Who are you?” – I could
not tell at that mo-
ment. Anoth-
er had
come
in.


– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2007)

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Early, early morning

Late night out with my son who just came back from a year in Malaysia and Singapore.

It's great to have him back (or at least nearer).

So many things to talk about. It's like he left yesterday and we resumed yesterday's talk.

Shamanism in Hinduism, the God greeted in the German 'Grüß Gott' as well as 'Namaste'.

Sartre's grasp of Man's contemporary loneliness, but without a spiritual, universal, historical or future perspective.

And zillions of other things we touched on.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Hiatus

No posts in about two weeks ... no time, never the right mood.

But oh did time fly by!

On heavy, heavily plied but swift wings, with lots of upheavals and downheavals.

Much too fast to grasp.

To be mostly deleted for soothing numbness.

And that's the statement for today and the past weeks.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Take your evil measurement

For all those who, like me, always had the misconception they were practically saintly...



You Are 30% Evil




A bit of evil lurks in your heart, but you hide it well.

In some ways, you are the most dangerous kind of evil.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Unforgotten by my spammer friends

Today, I received spams from:
  • Healthy Cleanse
  • Roscoe Belcher
  • Gay Benjamin
  • Simone Shea
  • Dorothy Combs
  • Aubrey Browning
  • Rosalie Phillips
  • Tina (Tina who?)
  • Specialists in Foreclosure
  • Cash Advance
Couldn't go on yesterday to thank them all for their special messages. This morning, more came in from:
  • Rosalinda V. Currie
  • Rosalinda X. Currie (must be sisters, maybe even twins?)
  • Louis Porter
  • Dion O. Glass
  • Dion K. Glass (Dion O. and Dion K. are the poor suckers that married the Currie twins, no doubt)
  • Darla Lehman
  • Rigoberto Serrano
And what did they all have to say? Well, the Currie twins had news about one part of male anatomy that they want enlarged (Dion O. and Dion K. must be lacking in that department), while Louis let me in on his philosophy regarding drug buyers' needs and wants ("When individuals ask for their treatment they commonly seek the following ...") and Darla had me puzzled with the following statement:
Message subject

www.peoplemultiply.cn?

%CUSTOM_END

But Rigoberto had the best news of all of them:
Your your credit report doesn't matter to us!

If you OWN real estate and want IMMEDIATE cash to spend ANY way you like, or simply wish to LOWER your payments by a third or more, here is the deal we can offer you NOW (hurry, this deal will expire TONIGHT):

$270,000+ loan

Well, perhaps the news of the worldwide credit crunch crisis hasn't reached Paraguay yet (I like to imagine that Rigoberto hails from there), so this true financial helper shall be forgiven.

Thank you all, my spammer friends.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Praying for the angels

I forget to pray for the angels
and then the angels forget to pray for us.
– Leonard Cohen ("So Long, Marianne")

Now would the angels really do that?

If biblical and other sources are correct, there is a finite, rather small number of angels. They must be very powerful to remember each one of us. And they must be in all places at all times.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

So what fib no. 3

A
man's
climbing
up a rock
with a giant tooth-
pick. A green-headed pink turtle
with yellow spots lies
flat. So what?
is what
you
say.

– Len "No Nonsense" Blumfeld

All once again based on closer observation of my immediate office surroundings (Chris' workplace).

Monday, August 27, 2007

Why do I get that sinking feeling ...

... even though my horoscope is great?

H: You have a kind spirit.
I: I have, it's true. In fact, some people have told me I tend to be too kind to the wrong people.

H: Although you sometimes focus too much on your career, you try to do good for other people.
I: I often think I should have focused more on my "career" – then I'd really have one. But yes, it's true, sometimes I'm a real do-gooder.

H: Today you might need to step in and be a good citizen.
I: All right, if it has to be!

H: Someone around you might be suffering, and they could use your help.
I: I know at least two people who love to tell me about their suffering and who always proclaim they need my help.

H: You might need to loan someone money so that they can take care of a pressing need.
I: As long as it's no more than a couple of bucks. Ain't got that much more myself.

H: Or you might chat with someone who has had a lot of emotional stress lately.
I: Being one who has had a lot of emotional stress lately myself, we could exchange laments.

– Len "It's All In The Stars" Blumfeld

in response to a prompt from Sunday Scribblings.

Friday, August 24, 2007

Looking around collage

The people across from the office have two yellow and one blue plastic flowers attached to their bathroom window. It is the bathroom window because it is made of that rough-textured glass that is no-see-through.

I'm sure the whole wide world has been waiting to read this.

On to other, equally notable things.

On my absent colleague's cabinet there are two miniature Mercedeses, one maroon, the other silver. One's stuck in sort of a tupperware bowl on a sheaf of papers, the other one on what looks like some sort of ramp. Black plastic. Neither Mercedes looks very happy.

The subprime rate mortgage crisis keeps throwing its weight around. Now it turns out that even the oh so successful on their own Chinese were hoping to make a fast buck on another bubble that was supposed to keep growing forever and that was mostly based on loans that should have never been given in the first place. Idiocy thy name is banking.

Darshini David wore bright orange yesterday. Big buttons again, even though the collar was less pronounced than usual. Made her upper body look humongous. I'd been looking forward to her daily appearance, but BBC did not put her on. Rico Hizon from Singapore, a man of vast knowledge, enigmatic smiles and succinct wording (albeit also guilty of some overuse of personal address interjections), was left out as well.

BBC World News has been showing the same AT&T formula 1 whine car racing commercial for weeks. Something about "ultimate speed," "enhanced performance" and "innovative solutions." Leaves me panting every single time. AT&T would be well advised to axe their commercial scribes for abundance of originality.

And oh the big business world is still complaining about the credit crunch that prevents them from sinking trillions into questionable megadeals.

In Bangladesh the police is sent after students that have been proclaiming loudly what everyone has known forever – niffy, inept, self-serving government. Not so different from most governments. More about this on Global Voices.

Oh well. Time to get on with work.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Louis L'Amour Country

Oh
to
be in
Louis L’Amour
country: big sky – crisp
air – checked shirt – back on saddle –
sipping black brew from
metal cup.
Dogies
low-
ing.


– Len "Office Cowboy" Blumfeld

How'd this one come about? Through an excursion to romance country (Saoirse Redgrave's Write that Romance! blog) and coming upon a Louis L'Amour book cover there. Instant sprouting of the cowboy stereotype material seed stored in my mind into a fib...

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Dear new diary

Written as suggested by Sunday Scribblings:
The prompt for this week is: Dear Diary.
Shhhhhhh... are your secrets deep and dark or wistful and whimsical? Do you have a character that you need to flush out by writing some diary entries? Is there something your twelve-year-old self wants to say? Do you have a silly secret crush? What needs to be written in a beautiful book and locked with a tiny gold key?

Here goes...

Dear new diary,

I’m starting you to turn a new leaf, swearing to be radically honest about the person to be recorded here. For a few minutes being.

First off, what are my motivations?

1. I want to be read, that’s why I’m participating in a blog thread. So I’m like a spider in a way, spinning a web to trap potential readers. Except that the overall web has been woven before. I’m in a chain of webs, so to speak.

2. Why not be radically honest once in a while? Even though I’ve had my share of radically honest attacks and have always come out radically honestly different, this has not worn off all my inclination to radical honesty. I’ve noticed that radical honesty – my own or others’ – is not necessarily free from strings. There might be vanity involved – Look how radically honest I can be! – or sickness with one’s own perpetual lies to cushion up one’s existence. Can we really stand the truth about ourselves? Can we admit to being greedy, stingy, stupid, envious, evil, hopeless, hopeful, befuddled, spaced out, sick, perverse, all that? Not that we are all that all the time, of course. But some of the time or the majority of the time everyone is a bit of this, a bit of that. Even though some of it might be well-hidden under so-called good intentions.

3. After this theoretical preamble on virtue and vice, let me delve into today.

  • I’ve already managed to be tired and not listen to some of the things my beloved held forth about. That’s why I can’t even remember the topic of her holding forth.
  • I’ve already ruminated about a friend – how strenuous she can be, how hectic, how difficult in her relations with others (including me). Although I tend to go to great length with her in trying to smooth things over. To explain her misconceptions benevolently.
  • I’ve already suffered from self-doubt, thinking that, if closely examined, people will quickly find out that I’m not all that wonderful. (Have I given you any reason to believe I’m wonderful so far? No, I don’t think so.)
  • I just thought about wordiness. I’m usually a man of few words. I can put things in a nutshell, but often others want more effusion than a nutshell. They want at least a big, big coconut – stuffed and overflowing. I’ve been accused of being simplistic because I’m usually happy with simplified interpretations of things. Makes life so much simpler sometimes.
  • I’ve already white-lied. It’s that cushioning I mentioned before. Cushioning things up for others, but also for oneself.
  • Worry: the truth will inevitably shine through!
  • I had too much for lunch. Not only that, I ate two more chocolate-covered rice cakes shortly after lunch.
  • Now I’ll have to go get coffee.
  • More reason to worry: I am doing things I am not getting paid to do.

Dear new diary, that’s it for now, some time in August of 2007, in the middle of the week. I can look out from underneath the shutters and see dense white clouds moving along the stark contrast of a uniformly sprayed sky. Just thought you needed to know that for environmental completeness.

PS: I'm fighting with some Blogspot formating issues. Sometimes Blogspot does something different every time you save the same post.

Gacela of the three dark pigeons

Three dark pigeons were sitting on the ground in a triangle.

“I am chest,” said the first one.
“I am beak,” said the second.
“And I am eye,” said the third.

The first one was another,
the second one could not speak,
and the third one was none.

Three dark pigeons were sitting on the ground in a triangle.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Unavoidable note
This is what you get when you walk over to Penny Market for a frustration snack and notice three pigeons seated in the parking lot. Brings up memories of García Lorca's Gacela de las palomas oscuras, and your mind starts playing around...

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Elucidative Ad Sense

In my previous post I used the word "elucidative" without being quite sure whether it really exists. To verify, I did a Google search and landed on a Free Dictionary by Farlex page that promised help.

Alas, the page had little elucidation on the elusive elucidative, but wisely knew what people who search for the word might actually need:

HD Endoscopy
Endoscopy cameras utilize HD to improve clarity and visibility.
www.hd-endoscopy.com

Prevent Server Down Time
Pre-emptive Support - 24/7 Identify problems before they occur
www.bea.com/wls

What Is Metaphysics?
What Metaphysics Means / Courses University Of Metaphysical Sciences
UMSonline.org/CourseDescriptns.htm

Thank you, Ad Sense, for understanding my needs in such a precisely targeted manner. I'll definitely check out the true meaning of metaphysics the next time I have a few hopefully elucidative moments. Whatever that may mean.

Should I worry about blogspot server down time, though? Enough to identify problems before they occur? Would endoscopy help?

Monday, August 20, 2007

Small world

In
the
line at
Kentucky
Fried Chicken: Naked
white globe in crown of tousled hair.


– Len "Bad Food" Blumfeld

I admit it, I went to KFC for lunch. Well, all the people I usually have lunch with are either on vacation or were out. Still I looked over my shoulder to see if anybody caught me.
Before I entered, I spent a while reading up on the footnoted ingredients they use at KFC. Quite a list! Flavor enhancers in various combinations with phosphate and colorants, to name just a few. Even their corn cobs are artificially colored. Having slung down my flavor- and color-enhanced chicken product, I came to the conclusion once again that neither I nor anyone else should be caught at KFC – dead or alive.

Anyway: When waiting in line, the hindhead of the gentleman in front of me inspired me to the above fib.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

A Kenneth Patchen Love Poem for Poetry Thursday



Oh now the drenched land wakes;
Birds from their sleep call
Fitfully, and are still.
Clouds like milky wounds
Float across the moon.

Oh love, none may
Turn away long
From this white grove
Where all nouns grieve.


– Kenneth Patchen

(from "The Love Poems of Kenneth Patchen", City Lights Books, 1966)

Posted for one of the last Poetry Thursdays to take place.

Note
To readers not familiar with this great and underrated American poet and novelist, I recommend the Wikipedia page on Patchen as a start.

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

So what fib no. 1

Lunch
with
sausage
and Indian
spice was good. So what?
you ask. Where is your gratitude?


– Leon B.

Note
As the number in the title indicates, more of these are intended to come.*
The idea goes back to Richard Brautigan and his green pepper/salad bowl so what poem quoted in Poems like untucked shirts.

*Readers are left with three or more options: joy, indifference, horror, ...

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Darshini David’s wardrobe

Dedicated to her

She
loves
her big
buttons and
collars and has sets
of them: mauve, beige, red, turquoise, etc.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Notes
This is in reference to BBC news presenter Darshini David, who seems to have a distinct predilection for tops with oversized collars and plastic buttons. She has at least four of these in different colors. Where does she get them?
Can “etc.” squeeze through as a one-syllable word? I hope so. (It certainly would have one syllable if it were pronounced “ets.”) If not, the purity of the venerable fib form is compromised here.

Blood, sweat and tears

Not
quite
so bad:
Sweat, no blood,
no tears. Just dry eyes
from screen slog. For daily bread. For
others, yes and no.
Daily toil.
No end.
Yes,
no.

– Leonard the Screen Gazer

Friday, August 3, 2007

The merest touch of her

Poetry came by again last night
to drop something off.

I spend too much time
without Poetry but don’t

want to be too insistent
in calling her over.

What did she drop off?
A locket I can’t seem to open.

But I’m not worried. It
sits on my desk with

a silvery half-smile
and reminds me of Poetry.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Note

This is my belated contribution to Poetry Thursday's invitation of August 2.

I was working hard on inspiration (see previous entry To squeeze tears out of a rock) and found it in a line read on Poetry Thursday itself:

“Poetry keeps me company and sings me lullabies. Poetry is making moments, little moments, into brushstrokes.”

Thursday, August 2, 2007

To squeeze tears out of a rock

Can it be done?

Or is it a mission impossible?

(I'm trying to come up with a poem for Poetry Thursday – currently vacationing and without topic suggestion – and feel quite rocky and unpoetific.)

Doesn't necessarily have to be tears, either.

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Office still life

The face of the house across is brightened to a stark near-white by the sun coming in from the southeast.

Yes, it's that house with the leisure area on the garage, the terracotta pot array supplemented by three bright green plastic watering cans.

There's a bright red Fiat Cinquecento on the window sill.

If I crane my neck, I can see some bright red flowers on corn stalks.

Corn stalks?

– Len B.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

An orange nudge

I don't think the weather knows about the forecast.
– Len the Weatherman

It's true; it was supposed to be bright and warm today (and was preparing to be until 10 minutes ago), but now it's greying in, and I can even hear distant thunder in my imagination.

Friday, July 20, 2007

It's lunch time ...

and I'd rather be across the street where, on the garage roof, there is a cozy arbor with a comfortable-looking white plastic table and chair set among terracotta pots with various flowers and plants, including, as far as I can tell without binoculars, bamboo and pink hortensias.

It's a still life. Nothing moves over there, unless you count a slight tremble of leaves from barely noticeable air movement.

There are voices through the connecting door from the office next to mine.

I am in two worlds.

CB, Tolstoy and bottle rumor and sigh

While Charles Bukowski said that great literature,
like Tolstoy's "War & Peace," bored him and lacked that
something special he was looking for, that moxie (?!?),
it could be surmised, based on some known facts
about CB, that plain and simple bottles held a lot of that
something special. Alas: to each his own. May God
give us poor poets moxie.

Listen to CB ramble off his scatological gospel:

Thursday, July 19, 2007

The final there's nothing to say fib

When
there
is noth-
ing to say,
there is nothing to
say, and that's final. That's it.

– L. Blumfeld

Need I say more?



Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Do not try at home

But will it blend? That is the question.

See for yourself what the smoothie button did to an innocent I-Phone.


Isn't the networking among employees of a big corporation amazing? This video was shown to me by a colleague, who had it from another colleague, who probably had it from another one, etc.

Latest blabla from the life front

  • It is stiflingly hot in this office,
  • despite two fans working away
  • under the desk.
  • The blinds are down,
  • keeping glare out.
  • I had too much coffee today,
  • my head is under pressure.
  • My back's had about all the sitting it can take.
  • I should report this to somebody.
  • Ha! Many such things would have to be reported.

It could be worse - it could be like this.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Bengali literature

Bhaswati Ghosh has a series of highly recommendable posts on/with Bengali literature in her At Home, Writing blog. The majority of the texts posted are in her own translation from Bengali.

Monday, July 9, 2007

Don't let the sun ...

"Hey!
The
sun's out."
"Quick – catch it
before it conceals
itself again." Alas, my net
failed. Big yellow slipped
through the mesh.
Some warmth
lin-
gers.


– Len B.

It's been difficult to catch a glimpse of sun this cold, rainy July...

This poem is a poetified retelling of what happened this morning.

Later on, under the shower, I tried to think of songs having to do with the sun, and came up with the Beatles' "Here comes the sun" and "Don't let the sun catch you crying" (don't know who did that first, but I like the live version by Rickie Lee Jones).

Technical note: For some reason Blogger won't let me enter a title in Firefox. In IE, however, it is possible. All in all, I'm still struggling with IE 7. Who told Microsoft anybody wanted it this way?

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

114 days in captivity

He
was
held for
one hundred
and fourteen days by
people who would now and then say
that they might kill him. "It was hard
to imagine going
back to nor-
mal life
a-
gain."

– L. Blumfeld

Note
Today, journalist Alan Johnston was released after almost four months in captivity by the Army of Islam. This seems largely due to mounting pressure exerted on this extremist clan by Hamas.
The 2nd part of this fib is a quote from Alan Johnston after he was freed.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

The drat fib

Drat,
drool,
this is
not cool. Will
another dawn break
tomorrow? You betcha it will.

– Leon B.

Note:
An accurate end-of-day statement.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

The I feel bad in unison fib

I
feel
bad. She's
turning her
eyes away and slinks
by. My mood slumps and time slinks by.

– Lenny B., from the office front

Friday, June 15, 2007

Love of the common people

I was going to write a fib on the theme of little sister crying (because my wife's little sister cried for hours after losing a computer password), when the memory of this song popped up in my mind. I'd first heard it sung by Nicky Thomas (a reggae number that came out in 1970), then had it on a record in the version performed by Waylon Jennings, which is much weaker. Anyway, it's a great song about little sister's tears, and I scrapped the idea of writing a fib about it.

Love of the common people
Livin' on free food tickets
Water in the milk from the hole in the roof
Where the rain came through
What can you do?

Tears from little sister cryin'
'Cause she doesn't have a dress without a patch
For the party to go
Oh, but you know she'll get by.

She is livin' in the love of the common people
Smiles from the heart of the family man
Daddy's gonna buy her a dream to cling to
Mama's gonna love her just as much as she can, she can.

It's a good thing you don't have the bus fare
It would fall through the hole in your pocket
And you'd lose it in the snow on the ground
A walking to town to find a job.

Trying to keep your hands warm
But the hole in your shoe let the snow come through
And it chills to the bone, boy
You'd better go home where it's warm.

Where you can live in the love of the common people
Smiles from the heart of the family man
Daddy's gonna buy her a dream to cling to
Mama's gonna love her just as much as she can, she can.

Livin' on dreams ain't easy
But the closer the knit the tighter the fit
And the chills stay away
You take 'em in stride family pride.

You know that faith is your foundation
And with a whole lotta love and a warm conversation
And plenty of prayer
Making you strong where you belong.

Where you can live in the love of the common people
Smiles from the heart of the family man
Daddy's gonna buy her a dream to cling to
Mama's gonna love her just as much as she can, she can...

(Written by Ronnie Wilkins and John Hurley)

Here's the song performed by Nicky Thomas on Youtube – good sound quality, but only a static picture:

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

From the office work province

  1. The blinds are down, there's a welcomingly mild sun out there. Most people have gone out for lunch. It's peaceful here in the outpost of a gigantic company.
  2. I suffer from time elapse anxiety syndrome (TEA).
  3. Do many people suffer from this disease?
  4. Symptom: feeling that time is slipping by without you getting urgent things done.
  5. This symptom makes me nervous.
  6. Until I succumb to the next "what's so important that it really needs to be done in the overall scheme of things" mood.
  7. Those moods are philosophical and soothing,
  8. but they don't get anything done.

Yours from the office grind Len B.

Monday, June 4, 2007

Inspired by a chanteuse

A
nerv-
ous lithe
slip of a
singer – small titter
monkey, cheeks clenched, on swaying branch.

– Len B.

Friday, June 1, 2007

A painting

To-
day’s
will be
three-colored:
grey, ox blood, sleet. It
will feature rain, people cooped up
inside, the mood of
endurance,
no
spark.

– Len Sparkles B. (© 2007)

Sunday, May 27, 2007

More green, more pastoral

All in green my love went riding

All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the merry deer ran before.

Fleeter be they than dappled dreams
the swift sweet deer
the red rare deer.

Horn at hip went my love riding
riding the echo down
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the level meadows ran before.

Softer be they than slippered sleep
the lean lithe deer
the fleet flown deer.

Four fleet does at a gold valley
the famished arrows sang before.

Bow at belt went my love riding
riding the mountain down into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the sheer peaks ran before.

Paler be they than daunting death
the sleek slim deer
the tall tense deer.

Four tall stags at a green mountain
the lucky hunter sang before.

All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
my heart fell dead before.

e. e. cummings

From Tulips and Chimneys, 1923

Cf. Still life with tulip and chimneys written by my alter ego.

Pastoral fib

Moo
waits.
She does
not stray, not
one bit. One sylla-
ble words do it simply better.
Oh but she has strayed.
By one blade,
one shade
of
green.

– Len Blumfeld (© 2007)

Not only elegies can be pastoral. The blues can be ("Milk Cow Blues"!), and so can fibs.

Afterthought
Had this in green originally to go with the pastoral theme and the blade/shade of green. Changed it to Allgäu cow color because green on black is a harsh contrast that did not match the meekness of the intended cow.

An immodest proposition

Shouldn't you, like, show some involvement in the real world? Like occasionally at least?
This could have been said by my friend Karraine, a confirmed Californian, even though it's me saying it now while muzing – once again – about the purpose of writing in general or my writing in particular. You see, I'm one of those occasionally self-destructive, morbid, tormented souls* who go back to point zero at times to question the very ground they stand on, aka the validity of it all.
Like, shouldn't we all be working and earning something instead of doing useless stuff like writing?

What do you mean by writing anyway? Are you like some published guy? Like Dan Brown?
– Len B.
... in a somewhat grey Sunday morning mood on an overcast Sunday.

*This again could have been a quote from Karraine.

Rebuttal
But I did situate myself in some reality recently, by watching last night's soccer match between VfB Stuttgart and 1. FC Nuremberg. To see (Jeronimo Baretto) Cacau cry on the bench about his team losing, perhaps as a consequence of his red card removal from the match.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Blogger & Firefox

Blogger and the Fire Fox
Play ring around the rosies.
What a bunch of posies!

Put together Mother Goose, Blogspot and Firefox, and you get this ... or an endless cycle of log-on attempts. It's very much like watching the window of a front-loading washing machine. So, sorry to say, I've been forced to use MS IE Explorer to log onto this blog for several weeks.

Anybody out there who knows why this is happening and how it can be stopped???

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Masks

Prompt from Sunday Scribblings:
Masks. Literal: making or wearing masks for Halloween, Carnival, Mardi Gras, the theater, any other masky occasion. Or, you know, psychological: a mask you wear, that you hide behind; the face you present the world, or that you present just to one person. Happy scribbles!
M. asks
crazy but wily Marianne
who says she knows such sadness
behind masks,
the perfect housewife, for example,
the perfect mother,
she cannot run far enough
when she gets that queasy feeling
around the kidneys
that somebody’s tailoring a mask for her

M. answers
NO MORE MASKS
I’m sick of hiding
It’s tough enough coming into myself

Pipes in cheerful Maurice,
who just the other day
first wore his ski mask,
then his diving mask
and finally his chameleon mask at a party

Why wear that last one?
M. asks
You are a chameleon in real life,
take on whatever color surrounds you,
reflect any mood,
mold yourself to anything

Why not?
says Maurice,
masks are perfect mirrors
of whatever’s going on
at the time

And that can never be avoided

I am a permanent mask,
perfect incarnation of circumstance and time

– Leon Blumfeld (© 2007)

Friday, May 18, 2007

Mists gave way fib

Mists
gave
way to
full-bodied
blue sky, with languid
white animal clouds drifting by.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

From an office

Here I am back home again,
I'm here to rest.

All they ask is where I've been,
knowing I've been West.


– Tim Hardin (from Black Sheep Boy)

... quoted not-so-golden not-so-black-sheep-boy Len, home from the windy North Sea coast. Sad to say, I haven't come to rest (but do we ever, unless it's for that final rest in peace) but am in an office for work. Things happen to be very quiet here, so I can take a minute for blogging.

Quiet, in keeping with the outside: a quiet cloud cover, hardly a sound in the building, the occasional bird chirp through the tipped window.

Thursday, May 3, 2007

A duo

I. Nobody knows him

This man
is doomed.
Noone
will ever
know him
for the
wonder-
fully
mediocre
poetry
he wrote.


II. Everybody knows him

And
nobody
knows him
for real.
He wrote
“The
Achiever,
A Poem
In Eight
Acts,”
which
became
famous
because
of the
unspeakable
seventh
act.

– Len Blumfeld

Wednesday, May 2, 2007

The trepidation rumor

It has been said
that trepidation is unnecessary,
but what other stage
quite so disquieting is there
between serenity, calm,
uncertainty and gloom of doom?

– Leonard Blumfeld

Invigorable note
The trepidation in the signature to the preceding fib demanded to be expounded on. The above rumor is an attempt to do this.