Excrescences
- At May 14, 2007
- By Bob Howe
- In Blog Posts
5
From today’s Get Fuzzy:
I am bloated with steamy wondrousness. My poems are not so much written as they are excreted.
Really, I couldn’t have said it better myself.
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We shouldn’t fool ourselves into mistaking the world as we experience it for the world as it really is.
The two are related, but the relationship is complicated, and it’s real work to figure it out.
@Popehat We're never going to change their hearts and minds if we treat this kind of conduct as a bad thing.
Oscar Hokeah's blog post: Debut Novel: CALLING FOR A BLANKET DANCE https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/21549394-debut-novel-calling-for-a-blanket-dance via @goodreads
“the…novelist, who seeks to confer or receive amusement from his labours, may, without presumption, apply to prose fiction a licence, or rather a rule, from the adoption of which so many exquisite combinations of human feeling have resulted in the highest specimens of poetry.”
Jeff Bezos being lionized by rote, thoughtless coverage for going to space privately, decades after we did it first collectively, speaks of the ethos of an age: we've come to venerate what we do alone and sneer at what we do together.
Let's reverse that.
https://the.ink/p/what-we-do-alone-and-what-we-do-together
keikaimalu
Didn’t know you wrote poetry. 🙂
eleanor
Sweetie, it was not in your best interest that I saw that first sentence.
admin
Let’s just say Donald Hall isn’t losing any sleep over my output.
admin
But I thought you liked the steamy wondrousness! And wasn’t that a Barry White song?
eleanor
That’s not the point. Just imagine this: It’s late. You’re almost asleep. The dog is at your feet, a cat is on your head, and a redhead is next to you. That’s when, from out of the darkness, an entirely too cheerful voice exclaims “Steamy wondrousness!”