Written by: Cherie Black
I need a trainer, one who can explain
your lingo slowly. You see
I don’t know what Haven’t heard
from you in a while means
when I invited you
to see a movie two days before.
How am I supposed to construe
Something came up when you
were the one who asked me out?
What is That would be nice
when followed by quiet?
I strive genuinely to construct
understanding, but we will remain
in limbo with this confounding dialect.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Swinging it: A cut-up poem
Seventy bucks is a great price
on this mysterious island.
Behind the sequins, there's
no business like a debut
solo performed in rodeo.
Charmed and dangerous,
dance girls are practicing
(sunflowers start to grow
in this quick stint).
It's a regal competition
and I continue to do
everything to become
the local legend known as
Black Frosting.
on this mysterious island.
Behind the sequins, there's
no business like a debut
solo performed in rodeo.
Charmed and dangerous,
dance girls are practicing
(sunflowers start to grow
in this quick stint).
It's a regal competition
and I continue to do
everything to become
the local legend known as
Black Frosting.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Stop existing, begin living
A fifth old blog I saved from my MySpace account.
------
Stop existing, begin living: A Critique of Knocked Up
Written by: Cherie Black
I recall reading a Babysitter's Club book in which one of the main characters (I can't remember which girl it was – Stephanie, Marcy, Katie, Sweetie, Tom Boy, one of the those stereotypical teens) said that she disliked the movie My Fair Lady because Henry Higgins had the audacity to change Eliza Doolittle. Her argument was that there was nothing wrong with how Eliza lived, and it was just plain mean for Henry to criticize her life. Now obviously judging others can be taken to extremes, and truthfully, Henry Higgins isn't the nicest character in the world. However, this rational concerning Eliza bothered me. Up until Eliza meets Henry, she is somewhat ignorant of the conditions outside her own world and the opportunities that could be available to her. Though Henry's approach is harsh and, for the most part, he is simply using her towards his own ends, Eliza benefits from the experience, enough so that even she can recognize Henry's arrogance for what it is.
These values of making something of one's life and being willing to change for the better can be found in another movie as well… one that is arguably less sophisticated than the previously mentioned, academy-award winning musical. Knocked Up – even the title of the film gives away the stupidity which will ultimately be encountered… and actually to save space, for the absurdity is pretty pervasive, I will spare you the vulgar details and move on to the most surprising accomplishments of the film. (Don't ask either – I admit, even I laughed, but I know I would have reconsidered renting it if I had inside knowledge of the jokes ahead of time.)
Anyway, let me introduce you to one not-so-interesting character: Ben. A twenty-(or-maybe-thirty?)-something year old male who is perfectly happy downing beers, smoking pot, sleeping late, and updating his raunchy website (a database of sorts that lists all of the naked scenes in any one movie). Each day is the same thing over and over and over and over again. That is until he meets Allison, an accomplished woman who is celebrating her promotion. While at the bar, they both have too much to drink, one thing leads to another, and suddenly she is pregnant… and suddenly Ben finds himself questioning his life style.
The questioning however doesn't start at the source; rather it is brought to Ben's attention by those who surround him, especially the mother of the child. Though she likes Ben and finds him cute, she is not too agreeable with the idea that her child will be fathered by a man who can't even pay basic bills. The result is that he is presented with an unstated choice: stay as he is and have no contact with his child or change and be a father.
Now I can hear those out there – like the teenybopper, babysitter girl – say, "Wait a minute! He should be able to live his life, never change, and be a father as well. What right do we have to criticize?" Even Allison and Ben discuss this, and in the beginning of their forced relationship, she thoughtlessly reassures him that she's "not trying to change him." And at first, Ben does decide to maintain his bachelor type ways… but what's most interesting about this decision is that Ben finds he is no longer satisfied with those ways. He comes to realize the monotony of his life, changes, and becomes a man worthy of respect. This can be seen in those characters who disregarded him before. Towards the end of the film, he is a character to reckon with - he stops existing and begins living. Allison's controlling sister, her sister's wimpy husband, and Allison's crazy doctor all stop ignoring and begin listening.
Who in their right mind would want to return to the old life style when so much has been gained in the new? None that I can think of… and though this movie moves through slime with its grimy, chauvinistic jokes, it, nevertheless, manages a fresh and sparkling core: seize the opportunities given to better oneself even if the challenge comes from a crotchety English professor or a small, bundle of joy.
------
Stop existing, begin living: A Critique of Knocked Up
Written by: Cherie Black
I recall reading a Babysitter's Club book in which one of the main characters (I can't remember which girl it was – Stephanie, Marcy, Katie, Sweetie, Tom Boy, one of the those stereotypical teens) said that she disliked the movie My Fair Lady because Henry Higgins had the audacity to change Eliza Doolittle. Her argument was that there was nothing wrong with how Eliza lived, and it was just plain mean for Henry to criticize her life. Now obviously judging others can be taken to extremes, and truthfully, Henry Higgins isn't the nicest character in the world. However, this rational concerning Eliza bothered me. Up until Eliza meets Henry, she is somewhat ignorant of the conditions outside her own world and the opportunities that could be available to her. Though Henry's approach is harsh and, for the most part, he is simply using her towards his own ends, Eliza benefits from the experience, enough so that even she can recognize Henry's arrogance for what it is.
These values of making something of one's life and being willing to change for the better can be found in another movie as well… one that is arguably less sophisticated than the previously mentioned, academy-award winning musical. Knocked Up – even the title of the film gives away the stupidity which will ultimately be encountered… and actually to save space, for the absurdity is pretty pervasive, I will spare you the vulgar details and move on to the most surprising accomplishments of the film. (Don't ask either – I admit, even I laughed, but I know I would have reconsidered renting it if I had inside knowledge of the jokes ahead of time.)
Anyway, let me introduce you to one not-so-interesting character: Ben. A twenty-(or-maybe-thirty?)-something year old male who is perfectly happy downing beers, smoking pot, sleeping late, and updating his raunchy website (a database of sorts that lists all of the naked scenes in any one movie). Each day is the same thing over and over and over and over again. That is until he meets Allison, an accomplished woman who is celebrating her promotion. While at the bar, they both have too much to drink, one thing leads to another, and suddenly she is pregnant… and suddenly Ben finds himself questioning his life style.
The questioning however doesn't start at the source; rather it is brought to Ben's attention by those who surround him, especially the mother of the child. Though she likes Ben and finds him cute, she is not too agreeable with the idea that her child will be fathered by a man who can't even pay basic bills. The result is that he is presented with an unstated choice: stay as he is and have no contact with his child or change and be a father.
Now I can hear those out there – like the teenybopper, babysitter girl – say, "Wait a minute! He should be able to live his life, never change, and be a father as well. What right do we have to criticize?" Even Allison and Ben discuss this, and in the beginning of their forced relationship, she thoughtlessly reassures him that she's "not trying to change him." And at first, Ben does decide to maintain his bachelor type ways… but what's most interesting about this decision is that Ben finds he is no longer satisfied with those ways. He comes to realize the monotony of his life, changes, and becomes a man worthy of respect. This can be seen in those characters who disregarded him before. Towards the end of the film, he is a character to reckon with - he stops existing and begins living. Allison's controlling sister, her sister's wimpy husband, and Allison's crazy doctor all stop ignoring and begin listening.
Who in their right mind would want to return to the old life style when so much has been gained in the new? None that I can think of… and though this movie moves through slime with its grimy, chauvinistic jokes, it, nevertheless, manages a fresh and sparkling core: seize the opportunities given to better oneself even if the challenge comes from a crotchety English professor or a small, bundle of joy.
He had to be the king's daughter's son
A fourth old blog I saved from my MySpace account.
------
OF COURSE! He had to be the king's daughter's son: A Critique of Stardust
Written by: Cherie Black
Typical predictable with a new twist is how I would describe star-studded, sci-fi/fantasy Stardust, a standard tale of good versus evil and finding the love of your life. In an attempt to woo his teenage crush Victoria, Tristan (Charlie Cox) declares that he will cross the forbidden wall to bring her a fallen star, which happens to a lovely young woman instead of a lump of rock. Naturally, there are a few bumps along the way: Tristan is captured by pirates and duels a witch. But in the end, he matures into a man, marries the star, and becomes king of the peculiar kingdom he has been traveling (go figure, he is heir to the throne ;-).
Michelle Pfeiffer stars as the witch, and the role fits her well. This is part of the problem. The character is too easy for her; it's no where near the more challenging roles she's capable of. As a result, all of her acting mishaps stand out. For example, this witch is obsessed with being beautiful, so much so that she chooses to use some of the last fallen star she captured to firm the lines of her face… each use has its consequence, and immediately after the face lift, her breasts drop. This scene is supposed to be funny; however, though it is technically well-acted, the joke falls flat.
A similar issue occurs with Claire Danes, the fallen star. She can play the supernatural semi-damsel in distress to a tee. But, somehow, her character still seems stiff… The glowing hair makes her skin look yellow and cold, and in the end, we vote for her over the fascinatingly devilish Victoria simply because she is nice to Tristan.
Considering the abilities of both stars, one immediately wonders if the issue lies not with the actors but the story itself. Enter Robert De Niro – the saving grace of this film. As Captain Shakespeare, he delights and amuses. It doesn't matter if he is barking orders to his crew or prancing around his cabin in a tutu while singing opera. De Niro succeeds as the witty transvestite who is trying to protect his reputation as a rough-and-tough pirate. Our true hero!!
All in all, Stardust is a conventionally cute flick with enough sparkle to top the box office charts and then disappear within a year.
------
OF COURSE! He had to be the king's daughter's son: A Critique of Stardust
Written by: Cherie Black
Typical predictable with a new twist is how I would describe star-studded, sci-fi/fantasy Stardust, a standard tale of good versus evil and finding the love of your life. In an attempt to woo his teenage crush Victoria, Tristan (Charlie Cox) declares that he will cross the forbidden wall to bring her a fallen star, which happens to a lovely young woman instead of a lump of rock. Naturally, there are a few bumps along the way: Tristan is captured by pirates and duels a witch. But in the end, he matures into a man, marries the star, and becomes king of the peculiar kingdom he has been traveling (go figure, he is heir to the throne ;-).
Michelle Pfeiffer stars as the witch, and the role fits her well. This is part of the problem. The character is too easy for her; it's no where near the more challenging roles she's capable of. As a result, all of her acting mishaps stand out. For example, this witch is obsessed with being beautiful, so much so that she chooses to use some of the last fallen star she captured to firm the lines of her face… each use has its consequence, and immediately after the face lift, her breasts drop. This scene is supposed to be funny; however, though it is technically well-acted, the joke falls flat.
A similar issue occurs with Claire Danes, the fallen star. She can play the supernatural semi-damsel in distress to a tee. But, somehow, her character still seems stiff… The glowing hair makes her skin look yellow and cold, and in the end, we vote for her over the fascinatingly devilish Victoria simply because she is nice to Tristan.
Considering the abilities of both stars, one immediately wonders if the issue lies not with the actors but the story itself. Enter Robert De Niro – the saving grace of this film. As Captain Shakespeare, he delights and amuses. It doesn't matter if he is barking orders to his crew or prancing around his cabin in a tutu while singing opera. De Niro succeeds as the witty transvestite who is trying to protect his reputation as a rough-and-tough pirate. Our true hero!!
All in all, Stardust is a conventionally cute flick with enough sparkle to top the box office charts and then disappear within a year.
Being good is sexy
A third old blog I saved from my MySpace account.
------
Being good is sexy: A Critique of 3:10 to Yuma
Written by: Cherie Black
3:10 to Yuma is a feminist's greatest nightmare… and its greatest ally. The former is obvious and not requiring explanation… though I am going to explain it anyway. The women in this movie (a grand total of two) are objectified. They are manipulated and made to dance by their puppeteer male counterparts. It doesn't matter whether her eyes are green, outlaw Ben Wade (played by Russell Crowe) can still use the description as an avenue for influencing any woman. Within moments, she will both enthusiastically strip her clothes and promise to meet him in some far-off city or she will respond to his masculine worth instead of her husband's and need the reminder from the latter that she shouldn't listen to the deceiving comments. Yeah… the women in this movie matter only in how they move the male characters' stories along (try saying that three times fast!).
But… however… nevertheless… this film works like a cosmetic mirror (a recognized feminine object). The flat side reflects the obvious nature of society – overbearingly and destructively patriarchal. The concave side, on the other hand, magnifies the affect it has on men, the people who supposedly perpetuate it. Enter Dan Evans (played by Christian Bale). Society with its emphasis on the fit and cunning has deemed him pitiful. He is trampled by outlaws and law keepers alike. The epitome of what a patriarchal society loathes, no one gives a rat's ass about him.
Yet, by the end of the film, it is he and he alone who conquers. How does he do it? By answering to a higher call than being the fast gun in the west – being willing to die for what is right. This, friends, is the opposite of a patriarchal society, of a culture in which men are the most powerful, are the fittest, are those who survive everyone else at any and all costs no matter the morality of it.
I am a woman, and I love this movie. I understand the reasons behind feminism, and I recognize in the Evans character the answer to the patriarchal issue – the sacrifice of one's life for what is right… kind of reminiscent of another character… one who isn't fictional... one who is timeless… Now who might that be? ;-D
------
Being good is sexy: A Critique of 3:10 to Yuma
Written by: Cherie Black
3:10 to Yuma is a feminist's greatest nightmare… and its greatest ally. The former is obvious and not requiring explanation… though I am going to explain it anyway. The women in this movie (a grand total of two) are objectified. They are manipulated and made to dance by their puppeteer male counterparts. It doesn't matter whether her eyes are green, outlaw Ben Wade (played by Russell Crowe) can still use the description as an avenue for influencing any woman. Within moments, she will both enthusiastically strip her clothes and promise to meet him in some far-off city or she will respond to his masculine worth instead of her husband's and need the reminder from the latter that she shouldn't listen to the deceiving comments. Yeah… the women in this movie matter only in how they move the male characters' stories along (try saying that three times fast!).
But… however… nevertheless… this film works like a cosmetic mirror (a recognized feminine object). The flat side reflects the obvious nature of society – overbearingly and destructively patriarchal. The concave side, on the other hand, magnifies the affect it has on men, the people who supposedly perpetuate it. Enter Dan Evans (played by Christian Bale). Society with its emphasis on the fit and cunning has deemed him pitiful. He is trampled by outlaws and law keepers alike. The epitome of what a patriarchal society loathes, no one gives a rat's ass about him.
Yet, by the end of the film, it is he and he alone who conquers. How does he do it? By answering to a higher call than being the fast gun in the west – being willing to die for what is right. This, friends, is the opposite of a patriarchal society, of a culture in which men are the most powerful, are the fittest, are those who survive everyone else at any and all costs no matter the morality of it.
I am a woman, and I love this movie. I understand the reasons behind feminism, and I recognize in the Evans character the answer to the patriarchal issue – the sacrifice of one's life for what is right… kind of reminiscent of another character… one who isn't fictional... one who is timeless… Now who might that be? ;-D
Murdered by Flowers
A second old blog I saved from my MySpace account.
------
Murdered by flowers: A Critique of Aronofsky's The Fountain
Written by: Cherie Black
Death is life. It's difficult to imagine how one could complicate such a simple concept; however, Darren Aronofsky takes the cake in his film The Fountain. Set in three different periods (1500 A.D., 2000 A.D., and 2500 A.D.), the story follows Tom (played by Hugh Jackman) as he attempts to conquer death, first by seeking the tree of life, next by discovering a cure for a brain tumor, and then be traveling to the heart of a dying star.
Thirty minutes into the film, it becomes immediately obvious what Tom needs to discover: not the solution of death, but the acceptance of it. One can only truly live if one is willing to die. However, the viewer must wait another hour to see this revelation take place.
And in that waiting, the viewer is subjected to seriously irksome characters. Take, for example, Izzy (played by Rachel Weisz) the main reason for Tom's obsession. In 1500 A.D., she is Tom's queen and he is her conquistador. As his queen, she commands him to protect her from those who would oppose her by seeking the tree of life. If he is successful, she states that she will be his Eve and that they will live together forever. (Not a bad offer right?) But in 2000 A.D., she, as his wife, explains to him that she is no longer afraid of dying and that her death will bring about new life (a tree can be planted over her grave). This is a far cry from living forever.
In my opinion, Tom's attachment to Izzy is what sets him off his rocker. She sends him so many signals that the poor man can't function properly. This is evidenced by the finest scene in the film: when Tom, out of grief for the loss of his wife, begins tattooing himself with an ink and quill set that she presented him with on her deathbed.
To make matters worse, Aronofsky's chosen vistas are horrendous. If he wanted to convey the celebration of life while lived and death well-accepted, he selected poor colors and backdrops. The characters are faced with blacks, browns, and putrid whites and yellows, not to mention skulls, tubes, and furry trees. If I lived in such conditions, I would be begging for escape. "Open window here I come – GOODBYE LIFE!!"
Overall, if a person desired to talk about life and death, they would be better served by Mitch Albom's book Tuesdays with Morrie, an amazing nonfiction work that allows its reader to connect on a personal level with its characters. Yes, 192 pages does take up more of one's time than a 96 minute movie; however, instead of the far-removed, tedious tale which The Fountain offers, the stimulation provided by the act of reading would at least benefit the brain through exercise and potentially lengthen one's life…. er, yeah…
------
Murdered by flowers: A Critique of Aronofsky's The Fountain
Written by: Cherie Black
Death is life. It's difficult to imagine how one could complicate such a simple concept; however, Darren Aronofsky takes the cake in his film The Fountain. Set in three different periods (1500 A.D., 2000 A.D., and 2500 A.D.), the story follows Tom (played by Hugh Jackman) as he attempts to conquer death, first by seeking the tree of life, next by discovering a cure for a brain tumor, and then be traveling to the heart of a dying star.
Thirty minutes into the film, it becomes immediately obvious what Tom needs to discover: not the solution of death, but the acceptance of it. One can only truly live if one is willing to die. However, the viewer must wait another hour to see this revelation take place.
And in that waiting, the viewer is subjected to seriously irksome characters. Take, for example, Izzy (played by Rachel Weisz) the main reason for Tom's obsession. In 1500 A.D., she is Tom's queen and he is her conquistador. As his queen, she commands him to protect her from those who would oppose her by seeking the tree of life. If he is successful, she states that she will be his Eve and that they will live together forever. (Not a bad offer right?) But in 2000 A.D., she, as his wife, explains to him that she is no longer afraid of dying and that her death will bring about new life (a tree can be planted over her grave). This is a far cry from living forever.
In my opinion, Tom's attachment to Izzy is what sets him off his rocker. She sends him so many signals that the poor man can't function properly. This is evidenced by the finest scene in the film: when Tom, out of grief for the loss of his wife, begins tattooing himself with an ink and quill set that she presented him with on her deathbed.
To make matters worse, Aronofsky's chosen vistas are horrendous. If he wanted to convey the celebration of life while lived and death well-accepted, he selected poor colors and backdrops. The characters are faced with blacks, browns, and putrid whites and yellows, not to mention skulls, tubes, and furry trees. If I lived in such conditions, I would be begging for escape. "Open window here I come – GOODBYE LIFE!!"
Overall, if a person desired to talk about life and death, they would be better served by Mitch Albom's book Tuesdays with Morrie, an amazing nonfiction work that allows its reader to connect on a personal level with its characters. Yes, 192 pages does take up more of one's time than a 96 minute movie; however, instead of the far-removed, tedious tale which The Fountain offers, the stimulation provided by the act of reading would at least benefit the brain through exercise and potentially lengthen one's life…. er, yeah…
I would rather love a person than a city
This is an old blog of mine I saved from my MySpace Account.
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I would rather love a person than a city: A Critique of Paris, Je T'aime
Written by: Cherie Black
One of the best aspects of a vignette is the opportunity it provides to see how good an actor really is. Limited by time, an actor's ability will either shine, stimulating the viewer with an authentic performance, or it will tire, making the viewer realize that they had just lost six more minutes of sleep :-D
In Paris, Je T'aime, we receive the best of both worlds. Eighteen vignettes in 113 minutes…. Sometimes the brief scenes are perfect, imprinting a story with beautiful lines upon the viewer's mind – like the vignette entitled "Bastille." After three years of adultery, a husband discovers that his wife is dying from cancer. In an attempt to make her last days special, he ends his relationship with his mistress and completes his wife's favorite activities (attending matinees, bargain-hunting, and reading novels aloud); then just before she dies, he recognizes, "By acting like a man in love, I became a man in love again," a confession that is provoking, begging the viewer to reflect on their own life.
However, more often than not, the vignettes flop… especially the ones with the famous actors. "Quartier Latin" features Gena Rowlands and Gerard Depardieu, and the acting in it is stiffer than a wet shirt dried in below freezing temperatures. The only thing left to fall back on with such poor acting is the story, and obviously this is where the film falters. Because of the rapidity of each scene little to no connection can be made with the characters; thus, the viewer feels so far removed one wonders: what is the point?
So what is the point? As the film title states: Paris, I love you. Unfortunately, this seems to be the solution of each character's problems. Getting a divorce after more than fifteen years of marriage? It's OK – I am in Paris, and I love Paris. Want your windows broken by a crazy model? Sure, I am in Paris and I love Paris. Spend all of your time watching someone else's baby instead of your own? It's alright; I am in Paris and I love Paris. As a tourist, do you want to get manipulated and then beat up by a local, love-struck couple? Yeah, baby, bring on the pain. It's all part of Paris, and I LOVE Paris (although I must admit, this one was actually pretty cute – then again, how can anyone go wrong with Steve Buscemi?).
In the end, Paris, Je T'aime is almost as bad as the cliché "What happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas." It is just a little artsier and classier.
-----
I would rather love a person than a city: A Critique of Paris, Je T'aime
Written by: Cherie Black
One of the best aspects of a vignette is the opportunity it provides to see how good an actor really is. Limited by time, an actor's ability will either shine, stimulating the viewer with an authentic performance, or it will tire, making the viewer realize that they had just lost six more minutes of sleep :-D
In Paris, Je T'aime, we receive the best of both worlds. Eighteen vignettes in 113 minutes…. Sometimes the brief scenes are perfect, imprinting a story with beautiful lines upon the viewer's mind – like the vignette entitled "Bastille." After three years of adultery, a husband discovers that his wife is dying from cancer. In an attempt to make her last days special, he ends his relationship with his mistress and completes his wife's favorite activities (attending matinees, bargain-hunting, and reading novels aloud); then just before she dies, he recognizes, "By acting like a man in love, I became a man in love again," a confession that is provoking, begging the viewer to reflect on their own life.
However, more often than not, the vignettes flop… especially the ones with the famous actors. "Quartier Latin" features Gena Rowlands and Gerard Depardieu, and the acting in it is stiffer than a wet shirt dried in below freezing temperatures. The only thing left to fall back on with such poor acting is the story, and obviously this is where the film falters. Because of the rapidity of each scene little to no connection can be made with the characters; thus, the viewer feels so far removed one wonders: what is the point?
So what is the point? As the film title states: Paris, I love you. Unfortunately, this seems to be the solution of each character's problems. Getting a divorce after more than fifteen years of marriage? It's OK – I am in Paris, and I love Paris. Want your windows broken by a crazy model? Sure, I am in Paris and I love Paris. Spend all of your time watching someone else's baby instead of your own? It's alright; I am in Paris and I love Paris. As a tourist, do you want to get manipulated and then beat up by a local, love-struck couple? Yeah, baby, bring on the pain. It's all part of Paris, and I LOVE Paris (although I must admit, this one was actually pretty cute – then again, how can anyone go wrong with Steve Buscemi?).
In the end, Paris, Je T'aime is almost as bad as the cliché "What happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas." It is just a little artsier and classier.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Clashing at 5:00
Your question, Mom, is dinner
ready yet? irritates me
like a burnt steak I HAVE to chew.
There is no time to explain
why sausage needs to be boiled,
only that it should be.
Don't
argue.
If you'd done it two hours ago -
when
I'd
asked -
we'd be eating
and you wouldn't be waiting. But no, you chose
to play baseball with Mark.
So, yes! You will remain
hungry another thirty
minutes and stay away
from the kitchen until I say
all
is
ready.
ready yet? irritates me
like a burnt steak I HAVE to chew.
There is no time to explain
why sausage needs to be boiled,
only that it should be.
Don't
argue.
If you'd done it two hours ago -
when
I'd
asked -
we'd be eating
and you wouldn't be waiting. But no, you chose
to play baseball with Mark.
So, yes! You will remain
hungry another thirty
minutes and stay away
from the kitchen until I say
all
is
ready.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
My Bucket of Water
You poured in your self
deprecation (I'll never be
anything but a mechanic), stirred
in the family abuse (He's
a loser wearing silver chains), dropped
in your low income wage (I can't
afford the Ford 100) and topped it
off with past history (I'd push
my previous girlfriends to break
up with me so I didn't have to).
Setting it down with an adorable
shrug, you asked You want it?
I picked up that bucket without hesitation
used the water
for a shower and nearly froze
trying to dry off.
deprecation (I'll never be
anything but a mechanic), stirred
in the family abuse (He's
a loser wearing silver chains), dropped
in your low income wage (I can't
afford the Ford 100) and topped it
off with past history (I'd push
my previous girlfriends to break
up with me so I didn't have to).
Setting it down with an adorable
shrug, you asked You want it?
I picked up that bucket without hesitation
used the water
for a shower and nearly froze
trying to dry off.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Today I will...
Today I will ask you how
you are even though I know
you will scowl
and
be
short
(Fine). Today
I will smile when you enter
though I know you
will not acknowledge me
and will plug into
your white headphones. Today
I will remind you I can help
while I watch you spread yourself
over the table, and I will
listen as you tell me I don't
need your
assistance. For today is the same
as any other day - I am here
and am waiting for you to say Yes
you are even though I know
you will scowl
and
be
short
(Fine). Today
I will smile when you enter
though I know you
will not acknowledge me
and will plug into
your white headphones. Today
I will remind you I can help
while I watch you spread yourself
over the table, and I will
listen as you tell me I don't
need your
assistance. For today is the same
as any other day - I am here
and am waiting for you to say Yes
Monday, March 1, 2010
Salt and Saffron
Too much of him initiated
a stroke but not enough
made a person dehydrated.
Really, the only way he could
be served was with saffron,
for she, in even the smallest pinches,
complimented him.
I remember when he sprinkled
himself all over the office. His granulated
figure distracted clerks
from their calculated charts. We were
ready to kick him out, but she calmed
his spasmodic zest with three words
(Tour the store) and channeled
his enthusiasm into sales. Customers became
enamored with him
and purchased bachelor’s chests.
Unfortunately, saffron’s content to remain
orange became pungent to him.
He wanted to be known as salted
not saved. So he left her for basil,
a terminal cluster that surrounded
him and made him obvious.
a stroke but not enough
made a person dehydrated.
Really, the only way he could
be served was with saffron,
for she, in even the smallest pinches,
complimented him.
I remember when he sprinkled
himself all over the office. His granulated
figure distracted clerks
from their calculated charts. We were
ready to kick him out, but she calmed
his spasmodic zest with three words
(Tour the store) and channeled
his enthusiasm into sales. Customers became
enamored with him
and purchased bachelor’s chests.
Unfortunately, saffron’s content to remain
orange became pungent to him.
He wanted to be known as salted
not saved. So he left her for basil,
a terminal cluster that surrounded
him and made him obvious.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Ex-man
Written by Carl McKinney and Cherie Black
He is a bottom feeding
tube worm, surviving off toxins.
Like a fish absorbing oxygen,
he soaks up kisses
and spews out lies. Never seeing
light(only dark), he thinks
he’s righteous for consuming
noxious matter yet does not realize
he produces the same that he takes.
Filled with blood, he plays a human
but contact persuades he is
a frigid maggot, merely
living
from one moment to the next.
He is a bottom feeding
tube worm, surviving off toxins.
Like a fish absorbing oxygen,
he soaks up kisses
and spews out lies. Never seeing
light(only dark), he thinks
he’s righteous for consuming
noxious matter yet does not realize
he produces the same that he takes.
Filled with blood, he plays a human
but contact persuades he is
a frigid maggot, merely
living
from one moment to the next.
Friday, February 5, 2010
The part-time commuter
Sometimes she takes the commuter train to make herself feel better. She spends an hour each morning on her Benny and Hizzen dress, French twist and brown mascara, but whenever she arrives at work, her efforts never seem to make a bit of difference. There is always someone younger, looking scrumptious in a Nicole Miller with hair tied in a small knot. Whenever it gets to be too much, she winks at Harley, her chauffeur, who passes her the gray, calf-length raincoat stored in the trunk and meets her at the station on the other end of town.
The first ten minutes of the ride always surprise her. No one recognizes her as Laura, the sexual matron from the Quiet Hours soap opera, and unlike her rare trips to the grocery store or Nordstrom, she is left alone. But then she looks at the brief cases and the laptops and remembers that these travelers work during her daytime performance and she begins to relax.
She observes the gentleman to her left who is taking notes as he holds his Blackberry. On the seat next to him, his Toshiba is resting open to Word, and she can hear him murmur numbers every now again as he loosens his tie. She notices the redhead who is wearing a Wal-Mart vest, reading an English literature anthology and tapping her foot faster than the train could possibly travel. She sees the haggard man who has the New York Times open to the business section and who is concentrating so hard she is sure he will give himself a headache.
And she breathes in and out and thanks the powers that be that she gets to return to her set in the morning, where Vanna, Dot and Kyle, her three trusty make-up artists, will paint her face for her next scene with Richard – her character’s younger lover – and she will once again disappear into a fantasy world where she has the power to do what none of these travelers can: escape reality.
The first ten minutes of the ride always surprise her. No one recognizes her as Laura, the sexual matron from the Quiet Hours soap opera, and unlike her rare trips to the grocery store or Nordstrom, she is left alone. But then she looks at the brief cases and the laptops and remembers that these travelers work during her daytime performance and she begins to relax.
She observes the gentleman to her left who is taking notes as he holds his Blackberry. On the seat next to him, his Toshiba is resting open to Word, and she can hear him murmur numbers every now again as he loosens his tie. She notices the redhead who is wearing a Wal-Mart vest, reading an English literature anthology and tapping her foot faster than the train could possibly travel. She sees the haggard man who has the New York Times open to the business section and who is concentrating so hard she is sure he will give himself a headache.
And she breathes in and out and thanks the powers that be that she gets to return to her set in the morning, where Vanna, Dot and Kyle, her three trusty make-up artists, will paint her face for her next scene with Richard – her character’s younger lover – and she will once again disappear into a fantasy world where she has the power to do what none of these travelers can: escape reality.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Yeah, you city boy, the seats bounce worse
than worn shocks, and okay, the rug has been boot-painted
with mud. And sure, when the person behind you whispers,
you can't tell if that was part of the movie
or not. AND yes, while we watch Robert Downy Jr. dive
from an open, forty foot high window, we shiver in our winter coats
as if we were the ones who landed in the cold oceanic water.
But where, stranger, are you gonna purchase a ticket
for $3.50 a seat? And where, outsider, are you gonna be greeted
by a clerk who knows where you work? AND where,
foreigner, are you going to sit next to the same family
who attends the Methodist church with you every week?
Not there,
only here.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Oh, the "whoas" of the family horse
My gut tells me to stop
this trot, to rest
and eat the flake. But I am
not bomb-proof. When my bridle
is pulled too quick,
I turn rogue. I can only
carry so much on this back
of mine, and though I so
want to be the easy keeper, I can't
if you make me bear every
backbiting comment this herd
neighs. So please, give me room
above the bit and eventually
I'll be less barn sour.
this trot, to rest
and eat the flake. But I am
not bomb-proof. When my bridle
is pulled too quick,
I turn rogue. I can only
carry so much on this back
of mine, and though I so
want to be the easy keeper, I can't
if you make me bear every
backbiting comment this herd
neighs. So please, give me room
above the bit and eventually
I'll be less barn sour.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Roastaroma Football
With each sip I take, the sun bounces off my mug and forms football-shaped light rings that hover over my roasted carob tea (otherwise known as Roastaroma). I write during the commercials of the Ravens and Patriots wild card game. Phrases like "All you need is love" from a McDonald's advertisement infiltrate my brain, and I briefly agree that any competition is enhanced when it is shared with those I am close to. Instead, I am alone and have to call my friend George just to be able to share my awe over the Ravens' defense. In the first quarter alone, they sacked Brady and intercepted passes. Highly unexpected, especially considering that the Patriots have never lost a playoff game at home. I want this to be a game I can later brag about having watched, so, even though my motto forever remains "I love to watch the Patriots lose," I cheer them on when they score a touchdown. I admit, in ways, this bragging right is a small compensation for what I'd really like: having my friends and family join me in my exaltations.
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