Monday, August 31, 2009
As can a tone of voice, a squint, a moue.
But only if one sees it and, as such,
Has grown up watching for this kind of clue.
Do fluent texters even know they miss
Ironic looks or hostile postures when
They tune out conversations "to get this
One message" in a meeting? This has been
Cast in the Wall Street Journal, just today,
As something Generation Y must learn
To deal with, but I'm not so quick to say
That it's just "those durn kids" worth our concern
In this regard. Attention is sliced thin
In everybody's life. Look ye within.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
And slightly stale; no one to speak with here
In Wyoming, but it has not gone cold,
Not yet. I try to keep it, but I fear
I've lost too much. I still read like a child
(Traditional not simplified) and now
Some Chinese lit is bound for me - how wild -
A new friend's sending me some Xueqin Cao!
The Story of the Stone will soak my brain
In 18th century China. He knew not,
My friend, that Chinese language was a main
Field of my college studies. He just caught
The drift of how my mind works -- and I am
The more amused: his blog draws Chinese spam!
The greens and browns of it stand out so well
Against the steely dome above. Before,
A clear sky held me firm under its spell,
My eyes turned up and lost in all that blue,
The lazy drift of clouds holding my gaze.
With that distraction gone, I turn down to
The Earth around me, taking in the plays
Of heightened color. Then, too, there's the scent
Of misty rain, and of the moistened soil
And vegetation. This is what I'm meant
To know today, which nothing now can spoil.
A drizzly morning's bike commute lays down
A tone for my day: bliss in which to drown.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
I'm still a-sonnetizing for them as
It nears a close. Today the birthday grind
Doth claim one Brandon Ford, a scribe who has
A taste for things that grind and splatter up,
For scream queens -- and for sentimental songs.
Yeah, like most ghouls, at heart he's just a pup.
With sweet marshmallows - that's where he belongs.
(You see how well he's fooled me?). Quite all right.
Ain't never been a single-facet star,
Not even one who frightens one by night
Like cold Polaris in Lovecraft-y tales,
Whose baleful glow leaves one biting one's nails.
Exception: I'm a total Netflix fan.
Yes, Hulu means I don't miss all the fun,
But laptop-watching's not part of my plan.
This means I've not seen Fringe, though I'll amend
That in September when it comes out in
A DVD set. This sounds like a blend
Of X-Files and Repairman Jack: pure win!
And I see Leonard Nimoy's in the cast.
So Barton Morse, who dared me here to write,
An homage to a show I'm too harassed
To watch until it's mailed to me one night
Next month, I must say thank you; I have made
A priority of it now -- nay, crusade!
For pointing out a thing that's truly hawt:
Both Geo Hrab and his fair partner, who
Already easy on the eyes, have got
Classy new looks! The Maestro grew some hair;
Not on the pate (thank Bog), but on his face
(And yes, that makes him Evil Hrab), right where
It should be. And MsInformation's grace
Is stunningly enhanced by cute new specs.
Applause is due them both, I do agree!
Though crashes may result as rubbernecks
At their most fav'rite crosswalk bend to see
Them as they ward off those fools who would press
That button. This could all be quite a mess!
So #filmswithbrent must do, sadly, as well.
Our head-man think's he's got to go create
And learn Down Under. Sure he will excel,
But time zones are a challenge even now,
As Wyoming and Pennsylvania
And California, Oregon allow
Just barely what we do. Look we to the
Future of our film-watching and we must
Now figure in Australia! This we will
Once Brent is settled in and got the dust
Of travel off him, we'll resume the thrill
That is live-tweeting good films, for all love,
Until then we must keep the thought thereof.
Yectara as a tutor's mighty fine,
She made his zero-gee lessons a treat
As only she could do. Somehow, supine
Again, though, was not how she seeks to meet
Her first day with Pepito on her ship.
Dressed up at last and gazing at the stars,
Yectara says "Let's take a little trip!
How would you like to see the Face on Mars?
Or I know - there's this thing I love to do
Whenever we're near Earth. Just grab that wood
And ropes and call the boys to come with you.
And meet me at the shuttle." This sounds good!
And so Pepito hastily complies
And gathers up the needed, strange supplies.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Acanthoplus discoidalus has got
A rival for the title of most cute
And gruesome defense. Fresh news it is not
That this guy has this capability:
Victorians knew of it, but we've now
A better guess on methodology.
He swings his ribs right up and out, is how
He first reacts, then comes some poison goo
To flow into the wounds these spears create
In any creature's mouth that tries to chew
Him up! Sometimes this ends in cruelest fate:
Death to the snacker! The newt itself moves on
Unscathed; even the rib-holes heal anon.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
That film director's name, thanks to Nicole,
In my book evermore. And as to how
This happened? I can't say I know the whole
Sad story, but that's quite all right on a
Sad Saturday at work, stuck without light
(Outvoted on the dimmer switch, then, yay,
A flicker in the tubes meant an outright
Shut off!). Now as I sit here in the dark
I wonder what my "twist" ending will be.
One task light's shorted out; perhaps a spark
From the one left will bring my woes to three?
Or suddenly I'll find out that my chest
Is bioluminescent? T'would be best.
Friday, August 21, 2009
As Christian Weihs and I have often joked.
There's Robert Musil, Christian and, um, phew!
The rest are all Hapsburgs, as best invoked
In histories. My favorite is clear:
Christian is fun to talk to o'er the net,
Has taste in books and stars and, never fear,
In people, too. And I am not done yet!
The funny that he brings is super-sly
And often in a language I don't know
But closely parse; one day I'll have to try
To learn it right and will one day do so.
O Christian Cryo-Tank, happy birthday!
Go out and celebrate as best you may!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
We poets love our science; now there's proof
In Richard Holmes' latest, lovely book
The Age of Wonder. No one kept aloof
From gaping at balloons, or from a look
At where the Herschels found Uranus through
A telescope of William's own design,
His sister Caroline at last getting her due
For all she did to help. And there's the fine
Example Joseph Banks' trip set for all.
Erasmus Darwin, Wordworth, Shelley, mine
Own fav'rite, Byron, were all kept in thrall
As these discoveries were made and I'm
Only on Chapter Four! There's still more time!
Mac Tonnies makes the internet more strange
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Has yielded up results that could support
Panspermia, the notion that the stew
From which we're made just could be an import
From outer space. Yes, found was some glycine,
Without which many proteins cannot form.
And lest you think that this can only mean
Contamination -- you're not even warm!
The Carbon therein has one more neutron,
Than what we mostly find down here on Earth.
We're stardust, perhaps also comet-spawn,
Enough to inflate anyone's self-worth,
E'en if, as may well prove to be the case,
It turns out we've got relatives in space.
It's Jeremy Bouchard, who took it on
Himself, with friends, to draw them up a plan
To open up a comics shop. I've gone
Right off the rails, so happy, since I found
That place and met him there. And since I did,
It's rare a book or movie comes around
That I love, that won't make me call out "Kid,
You've got to see this!" And he often has,
Because he's sitting next to me, right there,
Conveniently. So, Jeremy, whereas
Today's your birthday, and because I care,
I proffer birthday spanks in sonnet form,
And my regards, eternal, real and warm.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Of torpor and of loathing do I speak.
A Sunday afternoon at work can take
All that I have and leave me feeling bleak.
It's August, but this morning bore a chill
That froze my breath in mid-air as I rode.
One tire was slightly flat, I think, which will
Make bike-riding much harder, as I showed
Myself anew. Hours later, I'm still spent,
And listless, filled with hatred ev'ry time
A task occurs, or question. Like cement
Undried this day pulls me down; it's all I'm
Aware of at this point; I feel its weight.
Oh MAN, three hours to go yet. That's just great.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
To set some science fiction. District Nine
Proves this in spades as refugees from space
Are rescued there, where echoes of malign
And human stories linger. Mix in crass
Bureaucracy and mutual disdain,
And we start up a film that has some class:
Intriguing hints of darkness with a vain
Protagonist it's hard to like, but then
Explosions start and gunfights and we've lost
The thread of mystery. I'm not sure when
A buddy pic took over at the cost
Of giving up on exploration of
How these poor creatures got there, for all love!
A running joke as we waited to hear
The Bad Astronomer doing his thing
On Coast to Coast in March of this fine year!
That's how Ian O'Neill entered my ken.
And now I know there's more to him than stars.
A fine DJ and bunny-lover when
He isn't writing articles. It's ours
To thank him on his natal day, today,
For all the fun he's brought, this crazy guy.
I think of him when weird news comes my way,
And always when I look up at the sky.
So happy birthday, Ian, you cool cat.
Now I recall... something about a hat?
Friday, August 14, 2009
Seems omnipresent for a substance which
Has been suggested may cause neonate
Male babies' poor development. That's some glitch,
As miscarriages, too, occur. It serves
As plasticizer; medical gear needs such,
For blood bags, tubes, to help them hold their curves
And shapes. But is it oh so very much
To use in these something that, should it leach
Into a mother's bloodstream won't result
In men with smaller penises, who'll reach
With lower sperm counts once they are adult
That many fewer eggs? Tell me it's not
A most nefarious Viagra plot!
"Now dress yourself," his erstwhile bedmate bade,
Her cooing tones perhaps not quite so sweet
As those had lured him to this pass and made
An abductee of him. Was it deceit
That brought him here? Or was it just plain lust?
He eyed her cybernetic limbs, could not
Decide. A lover capable of rust
Is not what he'd have looked for, though, he thought,
She's pretty in a post-industrial way.
She beckoned then, contralto, "Come with me."
As he complied he found to his dismay
That while he'd really love to go and see
What she would show him, he would have to learn
To move when gravity's not a concern!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Until one looks it up and quickly learns
Of how her bites and habits long have spurred
The spread of a disease that in its turns
Kills millions of us ev'ry year. For most
Of history, at least that while we've known
Malaria is spread by this one host,
We've tried to kill mosquitos ere they've flown
To share their protozoans - though sometimes
Quinine's been pressed into this ageless fight
(Best served with gin, in tonic with some limes).
But now a newer method's come to light:
Transgenic work on skeeters makes them less
Hospitable to malarial pests!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Write down these lines at work and watch the clock.
Tomorrow, Fronday, quickly shall pass by,
My last workday this week. How it shall rock!
On Suesday I do all my chores so that
My Sednesday might pass without a care
(For Sednesday is when I go play and chat
With friends down at the pub, whoever's there).
Then Sursday is my quiet time. I plan
The week's priorities, go shopping, then,
I finish anything that I began
On Suesday but left undone. Once again
Does Mriday roll 'round, and I'm off to work.
With three days off I mind not: it's a perk.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
A few years diff'rence can prove quite a gap.
As time speeds up it's harder to engage
An older or a younger soul whose map
For territories we traverse may bear
Much older or much newer ref'rence points.
To say naught of the things which make one care.
Then, too, one may leap, one on creaking joints
May get along more slowly. In this case
To love is even more an exercise
In using one's imagination than
Already is the case. If one is wise
One sticks to one's own kind but there's no man
Or woman who is wise in love -- to which
Fact we owe all that makes us such a glitch.
Just for your page; now for you I've a task:
What I want most in life's to see your face
Beneath a foil propeller beanie. Ask
Not why it's so; I no longer recall
Just how this project really got its start
(Though I know that it's my fault, after all).
My wish is true; it comes straight from my heart.
And such a little thing I do request:
Here even are instructions for just how
To build the hat. You can make up the rest!
As long as there's a spinner 'bove your brow
When it's all done. You think sonnets are free?
Now off to work. You've got 'til half-past three.
Pepito's job, to make them up and serve.
But there was something 'bout the lady's voice
Vibrating in his ears, that stirred each nerve.
And so of course he wound up in her room,
With memories he thought he'd long recall:
Her kisses and her sighs, her strange perfume,
And smooth and fluid moves. He was in thrall.
Then suddenly the earth began to move
(Again, he might have snickered to himself)
And she came from the bathroom, and said "You've
Just joined my crew: your spacesuit's on the shelf."
And what he'd thought were lovely silver tights
Proved her real legs. 'Twas just one of those nights.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
These two uncommon creatures I've been dared
To put in this, my sonnet for the night:
Ramphastidae and tauntaun. Are you scared?
But toucans (as Ramphastidae are called)
Are birds and thus the dinosaurs' grandkids
(Removed some generations), while the bald,
Unlovely tauntans, living on the skids
Of Hoth, ice planet, reptomammals are.
The latter are made-up for Star Wars Two
(Or Five if you buy into that bizarre
Asynchronicity); the former flew
First through my childish thoughts as cereal pimps
And only in the zoos are mine to glimpse.
Of all homebrewed and funny videos,
An innovative maker who won't quit,
Whose family's fair game. That's how it goes
In Michael Bekemeyer's colony.
His wife writes great romances; he writes, too,
And daughters, lil' Elise and mad Molly
Will surely grow up well and go pursue
Some int'resting careers. As childhoods go
Theirs is well-documented. Just look here
And check out :60 Seconds and you'll know
That Michael's got a family to cheer
Us all. So happy birthday, dearest Mike.
And Let Us Make This Thing just as you like!
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Until you've got a lovely purple pulp.
Next get four cups of sugar from your stash
Cook with the berries till it's gone - Oh, gulp!
You're halfway there! Remember, though, to stir
While on the heat; the sugar must dissolve.
The ginger, crystallized, comes next - of her
You need two tablespoons - this will involve
Some chopping fine beforehand. Mix that in
Along with 1T lemon juice and one-
Half teaspoon of ground ginger. The pectin,
The liquid kind, 3 ounces, follows. Fun!
Pour into freezer jars and let it stand
A day, then you can freeze or serve. How grand!
Saturday, August 1, 2009
That Little, Brown invented a new style
Of publishing: the podcast novel. Mind,
We all had thought this happened quite a while
Ago. But Sarah Shrubb insisted they were first,
Which makes us ponder what it is that we
Were hearing at Podiobooks. The worst,
Of half-assed Google searches, sure, would be
Enough to prove this wrong. I'll bet Bi Sheng
Would be just as surprised to learn that Herr
Johannes Gutenberg had baldly wrung
A claim to type invention; ah, but there
I stray into rank silliness. We know
'Twas Morris, Sigler, Jeffrey made it go.
For one short week before semester's start,
Near twenty-one short years ago, unknown
To one another till, oh be still my heart,
The one TV on campus happened on
A movie we both loved, ripe for in-jokes
(The second Indy Jones). Though both withdrawn,
We bonded over Indy's flailing coax
To be compaired to Paul Atreides' fit
In throes of spice-trance. When that got a laugh
I knew I'd found a friend! I did not know that it
Would be a friendship that we'd have for half
Our lifespans thus far and still going strong.
Mark Delsing, happy birthday and live long!
Raindrops on Kittens
- An Experiment in Chronology and Method Comics Making by Paul Laroquod
- Escape Into Life - A Marvelous arts & culture webzine
- Field Notes - Made in the U.S.A.
- George Hrab - musician, blogger, podcaster, skeptic
- Heroes Only - My friendly local comics/games store
- Isoban's Journal - Illustrations, AudioBoos, Videos, More Geektastic Goodness Than You Can Handle
- National Public Radio - my source for almost everything
- Podiobooks - Awesome free audiobooks of all genres
- Posthuman Blues - A Feast of Forteanity & Futurism by Mac Tonnies
- The Goblin Market - A Podcast Novel by Jennifer Hudock
- The Invasion & The Zombie Chronicles - Innovative zombie fiction by James Melzer