foto by smith
lady k has abandoned me – went off to spend the day with a girlfriend. hmmm, wonder what she’d think if i spent the day with a girlfriend. actually i do – i spend every day with my girlfriend, who’s fortunately also my collaborator, my companion, my wife.
so, being abandoned, i resorted to my old pagan ways. went down to lucky’s for an egg n cheese croissant sandwich and a big tall strong dark coffee. read the daily pain dealer, something i used to enjoy every morning, but don’t anymore – after traveling and reading deeply beneath the schemes, the local newspapers seem no-newspapers. even lost my love of the morning comics page. i find i am not as i was.
then i toked a couple tooks and blogged. i have a serious blogging addiction – in krakow poland i sometimes blogged 3 times a day. love to write, just don’t always have words worth.
and finally, as she’s re-bonding with her friend, i’m re-bonding back with my old smilth of guilty pleasures – i found in a drawer a copy of The Cosmic Man, 1959. “OUT OF THIS UNIVERSE! – The Cosmic Man – Is IT TRUE? Are creatures from space watching us NOW?” stars John Carradine, the man who apparently appeared in every movie ever made between 1930 and 1990 ( actually, he was in 336 movies and tv episodes in those 60 years of film ). it gets an imdb.com user rating of 3.8 out of 10 – which is fair. the movie’s fun, so sweetly gentle in its simplistic moral world of creams and greys. the bad guys aren’t really bad, just morally confused and afraid. the crippled kid in the wheel chair is walking by the end, while his lonely sad but good mother who lost her man in the war has found a new man in square-chinned good-hearted good-guy scientist who likes and understands crippled kids.
been a long time since i watched a bad film all alone. they’re more fun and easier alone because i don’t feel any guilt for the other’s suffering.
we each got to read 2 more poems from the stage of the beachland ballroom tonight for susan channing’s going away party. she was spaces gallery director past 22 years. poets don’t often get actual stages.
the 31 minute video of our reading last night ran out of time and cut short the last minute or two of the raucous explosion of hooting and laughter as i recited this final poem:
Pumpkin Time
You know what time it is?
It’s pumpkin time.
No, not pumpin time
Pumpkin time
cuz at midnight
everything turns into
a pumpkin
and the mice run away
Now midnight you also might
be pumpin pie,
depends on what yer doin
at the time
Somethin
you might be fuckin
might turn into a pumpkin
So you fuckin pumpin
pumpkin pie
reading may be seen at The Literary Cafe‘s poetry site
foto by smith