fine print
got me a drunk feel real bad vomiting woman here on our 1st wedding anniversary. as much as i drank over the years, it’s so odd to be here on the sober side of this equation. her 2 glasses of wine before going out to dinner, then 3 more at dinner put her way beyond her normal parameters. then she ordered this ice cream concoction for desert. i took one bite of it and went into shock - it was mostly high-octane rum. my body and mind recoiled, could feel it moving through my head. told her how strong it was, but she smiled and said she was fine. now she’s down to the nitty gritty fine print. fortunately the restaurant was 100 paces up the hill from our front door.
folk don’t realize drinking is like everything else - you gotta get in shape to do it. i practiced nightly back in my day, built up my skills, my tolerance. now after 16 years dry, i’d make a cheap drunk - that one bite of ice cream affected me. come april 21, i begin my 17th year sober. being on this side of the equation tonight makes me glad. my heart goes out to her because i been there, done that - over and over and over again. but she’s smarter than i was - she won’t be doing this again for a good while. it’s just that tonight she looked at the age-old question from the wrong direction - if 3 glasses of alcohol make me feel this good, won’t 4 make me feel even better?
On Reading Famous Tripe
As I went looking for a verse
By famous folk to light my way
I fell among words from a hearse
That turned my joyous heart to grey
Flowery flourish dripping tear
They fell like lead upon my ear
Why worthless words would one man write
O’er dense with dung of daffodil
Phrases rung from tedious trite
Of lonely clouds and vallied hills
Delicate as a lump of lard
Or doggy doo left in the yard
It taught me not to fame for verse
To flee the shallow for the deep
It seems the famous are the worst
To stink of callow they do creep
For William Wordsworth words worth less
The greeting card his verse should bless
- Steven B. Smith 3.19.2007
this was inspired by reading Wordsworth’s
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd -
A host of dancing daffodils:
Along the lake, beneath the trees,
Ten thousand dancing in the breeze.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay
In such a laughing company.
I gazed - and gazed - but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought.
For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
- William Wordsworth, England, 1804
there’s a sweetness and a lot of truth in his poem - and the words do dance off the tongue… but it is so bloody tritely written. we visited his cottage in northern england and sat in his garden seat of inspiration. i’ve read him repeatedly since then in a desperate but futile attempt to discover why he is considered one of the greatest english poets ever. the man writes american greeting card verse very well, but as for serious poetry, he’s as good as dick cheney is honest.
here’s a foto of kathy’s penis that she mentioned in the previous blog. maybe we can incorporate it into the dick cheney dick of the year award.
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