In Which Is Considered Chronoleptic Tense

While now we talk of future selves, I beg
O Paul, that when you do come to berate
The man you are today, you will not peg
The me who types these lines. This present Kate
Encourages your folly, reckless, wild,
And will be Past-Kate anyway when such
Event occurs, and will have seemed a child
Compared to Future-Kate - oh no! For much
As River and the Doctor might, I've tripped
A chronoleptic trigger! But indeed
We had to have blamed future Paul, who skipped
The niceties of diary-syncing, need
For retro-recognition trumping couth.
He'll make her cry in their shared retro-youth.

Sonnet Dare: In Which Is Considered The First Appearance Of The Master

You think the Master is a scary foe

As Jacobi and Simms have played him? Ha!

As first he did appear, when Delgado

Brought him to life, his powers had no flaw.

A glance and you were hypnotized and quick

To try to blow the Doctor up, despite

Your loyalties. This was no parlor trick.

He was that awesome; t'was pointless to fight,

And if you did, he gave you creepy toys

That made you dumb somehow, so you would bring

Them in the house, e'en though such obvious ploys

Should never work: An ugly, funny thing

That's on the mantle for a while, then, ouch!

It sinks its fangs into you on the couch!

In Which I Muse On IFComp 2010

It's voting time in this year's contest, and
There still are games I haven't played, but that
Won't stop me rating what I did. Some bland,
Some very near unplayable (Oh, drat!),
And some that started strong but finished poor -
These I shall not call out here, but of those
I've played and liked, I'd say there's three or four
Which stand out. Some have had scenarios
Beyond inventive; others made me laugh;
Still others challenged, in the best of ways,
My faculties. While there's a bit more chaff
Than I'd expected (I'm new to this craze),
That makes the good ones shine.
Now one more game with Paul, then vote by nine!

Lines Written Circling Pearson International Airport

It's not good-bye, not anymore, not now

That Twitter keeps us well and truly linked,

I tell myself, yet fail to keep my vow

That I would never cry. As such, I blinked

Back tears when parting from my Paul at last.

I shall return next spring, and meanwhile there

Is much to start and finish. Art thoughts blast

My brain; creative mainlining and care

In choosing how we spent this visit means

The well is truly full; work beckons; we

Collaborate and have our own tasks. Scenes

From gleeful planning sessions, setting free

Our wild imaginations boost my cheer,

But I'll not see my loves until next year.

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In Which My Harvest Incurs Merriment

A bifurcation 'twixt us has been found:

As we traversed the traffic islands, I

Did something that elicited a sound

From Paul I'd call a gasp of shock, caused by

My plucking from a tree some traffic fruit --

A mere crabapple, which I ate. I smiled --

I love them so, and it was fresh, to boot!

'Twas yesterday that happened. Now, beguiled

By this so-shocking tale, my Pete and Paul

Amuse themselves exchanging recipes

(Or concepts therefor); and that book we'd call

A Traffic Fruit Compendium. With ease

Comes traffic jam and traffic fruit tarts, and

We'd better stop; it's getting out of hand.

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In Which I Share An Ecomium For A Secret City

I love Toronto; it's already known,

But there's Toronto and TORONTO, dig?

What I love best's the Laroquodal zone,

The Secret City Paul inhabits. Big

And lushly vegetated traffic isles,

Underground commercial PATHs that are

All but deserted after hours. For miles

We traipse through spaces unknown to those car-

Fixated types, those nine-to-fivers, those

Who see no use in emptiness. We find

A post-apocalyptic vibe just flows

Through all and find it sweet. The cast of mind

That lets us so enjoy it is a gift

That lets our transit seem joyous and swift.

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Sonnet Dare: In Which Paul Is Locked In Combat Motal

The gauntlet falls, a ringing, mighty thud
(Though really it's just Laroquod when he
Pulls out an indispensable wee dud,
His iPhone, and doth quest for some 3G).
"Lieutenant Gorman, do something!" he cries
(He's dubbed it thus for reasons I'll make clear;
The reference is Alien). How his eyes
Do narrow as his brow knits, and the fear
Doth grip me as he starts his kluge. He must
Because some crucial apps choked in a sync.
His firmware needed upgraded. The bust
Is that the new OS doth truly stink
On older iPhones. Lo, he entertains
Whene'er he tries to use his extra brains.

In Which A Nation Is Born

Cry havoc! Let the cone of silence lift.

We're starting our own nation, Paul and Pete

And I, and there has been a tiny shift

In foreign policy, and it is sweet.

Our military briefings go like this:

Your main objective's ice cream, but if you

Should happen, on the way, on terrorists

And feel impetuous, by all means shoot.

As long as you don't let it interfere

With ice cream acquistion! T'was inspired

By one cool documentary -- sweet tooths

Just apres film played some part, too; we're wired

Just right to so respond to simple truths

As shown in How To Start Your Own Country.

And yes, our border's open, so feel free.

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In Which We Travel The World From Within A Very Small Space

A rush line's odd enough - much time to chat

With much like-minded strangers -- and one does --

A-trading tips and thoughts on movies that

We've gleefully discovered. And this was

Just part of what has made this day surreal.

Today began in Kyrgystan, then went

To Lappland for an odyssey (I feel

That was my fav'rite). Then lunchtime we spent

Exploring modern Congo - quite a tour!

But we weren't done with travl'ling; Uruguay

Was our next stop, and then, just to be sure

We'd hit another continent, our way

Took us at last to Hong Kong. Viva TIFF

(And thanks for fodder for this sonnet riff).

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Pondering the Toronto International Film Festival

I'm spoiled for choice, yet find as I check o'er
The offerings at TIFF this year that, while
I'm gasping lots and saying "ooh!" the store
Of what I must see there is small. I smile.
Once Winterbottom's next* would be the first
Upon my list, but I know it will be
An offering that I can catch, at worst
Within a few short months on DVD,
If not in theaters in old Cheyenne.
That's true of most; film fests are diff'rent now.
We've many options in this age; I can
But choose based on what will be coolest big,
Or what I want to see with Paul, you dig?
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*Sonneteer's note: I still may have to make for that film while there. The combination of Winterbottom, Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon is damned nearly irresistible Kate-Bait.

In Which We Happily Reprogram One Another

The list just grows; we're all compelled to share

What we love with our chosen family

Of course we want the source code, well aware

That we can do it, too. This week must be

The one most overwhelming info-dump:

Read this, watch that, you'll love it, add it to

Your list. When we're apart, you'll feel a lump

Rise in your throat, but really, working through

This subculture we've just created here

Will ease it. What has formed me now shall cross

The barriers between us, never fear!

We're always just a thought away. Though loss

Is how we came together we all gain.

It's wonderful to share a heart and brain.

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In Which The Line For Fan Expo Is Long And Entertaining

FanExpo is a show e'en ere it starts.

The line to enter ends up Blue Jays Way,

And as I walk, I see what's in the hearts

Of many a fanboy and girl. Today

I passed a Picachu, a Brundlefly,

A ghostbuster, all standing in the sun

And sweating in their costumes. But, oh my,

The moment I loved best, that was most fun:

Paul has a press pass and he's got a stamp

But just convinced himself that it was gone --

We're sweaty -- and while yes, his hand was damp,

Like blue stigmata, it is higher on

His wrist. And even Batman panicked, fell,

But we all saved him, which is just as well.

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In Which Are Considered @Laroquod's Many Alter-Egos And The Utility Thereof

As I came out from customs, wondering

How I would recognize my Laroquod

(Chameleonic, he) was I to cling

Dependent on the pics on my iPod

(Where I had made a spotter's guide)? Oh, no.

A list of Paul-plegangers served me well:

There's Alan Moore, Walt Whitman, Karl Marx, lo

(Some say the Unabomber -- I can't spell

His name, so I won't try, and anyhow

They're wrong on that score)! I knew him on sight!

This morning, too, a street dude called him -- now,

Don't laugh too hard, Kate, though it's hard to fight

That urge -- Haille Selassie! Paul, be proud!

Your avatars are awesome. Say it loud.

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In Which... In Which... In Which...

My last day ere vacation's finally here,
And really, it could not have come too soon.
Already I can taste the good stout beer
I'll quaff with Laroquod that afternoon
Three days hence. Now, my head a-spin with plans
And trying to catch up the time I lost
In dealing with some other crap -- these spans
Of time I've wished away I'd now accost
And put to sterner purpose, if I could.
I'm still not packed and would keep having dreams
In which I've left my passport home. Not good!
But such is ever my state when it seems
I'm soon to be a-traveling. My head
Has done the work my body now must dread.
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In Which I Get My Lamp!

You're in a cave, it's dark, what will you do?
GET LAMP, that's what! This film both made me smile
And stirred old wistfulness; the timeline through
Which we are taken largely took place while
Computers were unheard of where I dwelt
(Excepting those typesetting beasts employed
By newspapers). You'd best believe I felt
Deprived as I read how others enjoyed
Computer gaming in those early days,
How stories weren't just read but lived by those
Who solved their puzzles in ingenious ways,
How smart people were having fun! "But," crows
My fav'rite pusher "It is not too late!
(I paraphrase)" And thus he's sealed my fate.

G20: In Which Another Side's Story Is Considered

(Click here to view the original photo by Paul Laroquod

Behind the shields and masks, there still were folk
Who did not drool with eagerness to ply
That riot gear, who sought not to provoke
Nor terrorize the people who did eye
That gathering with distrust, ire or fear,
And exercised their right to say so when
G20 came to town. It's been a year
That's taught us all to rethink what has been
A default notion: our leaders are right
And those who might oppose them, simply mobs,
Unruly, dangerous, and on the fight.
Some of them are just real, working-class slobs
Whose job today put them in a phalanx
Arrayed against democracy. No thanks.

In Which I Am Doubly Powerless

South Africa's a strange place for to seek
Some comforting distraction from my cares,
But coasting toward the end of this crazed week,
That's where my thoughts have rested, and my stares
Have fixed upon. Today, Toronto boasts
A protest crowd of thousands, which contains
My Laroquod among the marching hosts.
He's safe, I know, but craziness there reigns.
So football's been my balm, despite our loss
To Ghana, whose Blackstars I like to cheer
When they're not playing us, at least. The gloss
Of this great tournament's not faded, clear?
But now I cannot help but spend the day
A-willing all the bad march stuff away.

In Which I Speculate On Causality

A victory for our Team U.S.A.

Another one for England; wait, there's more:

The grand release of George Hrab's Trebuchet,

The waking of the Cloverleaf beast, or

Paul Laroquod's titanic struggles with

His crummy RSS feed reader and

Some buggy LamdaMOO verbs, or a fifth

And stranger cause: those vuvuzelas. Land

Is sensitive to their vibrations, too,

I have no doubt. Perhaps, though, it was all

Of these, mayhap some odder causes (true:

These all are pretty weird already; call

Me crazy if you wish) did cause to shake

The ground beneath the shield: CanadaQuake.

In Which I Choose The Perfect Time To Catch Up On Freakangels

Webcomics do amaze; variety
Of type, content and talent, it's all there.
But of them one will e'er stand out for me:
Freakangels! I've been tearing out my hair
Just knowing I had gotten so behind
That it would take a day to catch up. So,
Today seeming a perfect day, I find,
To do something my birthday boy would go
Quite crazy for, I went back to the start
And read up to the present! One great dose --
Exhilaration! O, bestill my heart,
Especially where the story's gone! I'm close
To screaming right out loud, though I am still
Down at the day gig. I must mute my thrill.

In Which My @Laroquod Is Now One Year Younger Per Our Agreement

A time walker's a hard man to pin down,

But in this world at least, today doth mark

An anniversary. He's been around

A bit, my Laroquod, and did embark

Upon his journey on this day back when

The moon bore not our footprints quite yet. He,

Has mastered certain skills that other men

Have only dreamed of, and he brings to me

Things new and old I've never seen before

(That queue deformer), and I never might

Were not for him. And there is so much more

I'd tell you but it's more fun to incite

Him to show you himself, pull off his cowl

And let him loose. All I can say is: HOWL!