Tihmmnmmish's Very Laid-Back Summery Poolside Threadcast

[UnderYourSpell]

I used to remember many of the old British money system, when I as over then as a boy. Do Brits also deal in Euros or is that just on the continent? We wife is Austrian, and I think their shilling is now history - all in Euros. Money conversions can be frustrating. One time in France my sister and I wanted to try out our French and buy some bread for our lunch. Unfortunately we had old francs (which had become centimes, I think) and didn't have enough money. Fortunately Dad came to our rescue as we were totally confused.

No Euros here you have to go over the English Channel (or under it!) before euros start

 

[hmmnmm]

Sometimes it's hard to remember the individuals to whom you can successfully impart your brilliantly composed witty banters, and those individuals on whose ears and into whose minds your brilliantly composed witty banters fall with a simple mute thud.

Night before last I was struggling with some lead guitar lines, which has been frustrating since the rest of the music is fairly simple, and I come up with bits that aren't so bad in places but in others has been an unexpected challenge. So I wondered if a couple beers might help loosen things up, so I went and got a six pack of Miller longnecks.

I only drank four, but the next day it felt more like I'd drank a dozen, don't know why, because while I don't drink near like I did some years ago, I didn't expect such incapacitation from just four little longnecks.

Ended up crawling back into bed and slept the afternoon and evening. Got up at ten pm. I also continue to entertain a nicotine habit, and noticed the pack was low, and the local store closes at midnight, and I was pretty sure I'd be up past midnight, so I decided I better go get some.

Most of those who work at the local store know me and my buying habits well enough by now that I can walk in and hold up one finger and they know to hand over a pack of smokes. If I hold up two fingers that means one for me and one for my wife. Sometimes we have a running tab that we pay at the end of the week or every other week. Lots of times whoever's there gives over the smokes and grabs the pad and looks to me for verification to which I can simply nod an affirmative.

Well this was Saturday night. And late. And I guess they get busy and flustered, and the owner was behind the counter, and probably feeling harried. But I was able to hold up two fingers and she knew what I meant, but when it came time for the financial transaction, I made a motion with my hand to indicate scribbling or writing, like this was going on the tab, to be satisfied later. Well, I guess that wasn't as clear as I expected. She sought verification, spoken verbal verification, to which I assented.

Then she says something about that she really wanted just simple english. I don't remember her exact phrase, but her meaning was that I should have just spoken, "two packs and we're writing this down." Well, late Saturday night, who knows what sorts of people stumbled into the store all night. So I figured she could use some brilliantly composed witty banter, maybe help lighten her burdens. So, having taken the smokes and about to depart I said, "Muchos gracias," which was followed by a very small but very awkward moment. Sensing that my brilliantly composed witty banter faltered in the process from myself to the store owner, I tried again, except this time omitted the 'muchos', and just said, 'gracias' along with what I hoped was a facial expression to help the witty banter find welcoming arms. But it was ill-received. She just repeated that she really preferred plain simple english.

I was a bit disheartened, and was tempted to nurse a small grudge, but I have to put myself in her place. Trying to run a small store like that with a bunch of weirdos coming and going all night... that would try anyone's patience.

Anyway...

 

[Epmd607]

Sometimes it's hard to remember the individuals to whom you can successfully impart your brilliantly composed witty banters, and those individuals on whose ears and into whose minds your brilliantly composed witty banters fall with a simple mute thud.

Night before last I was struggling with some lead guitar lines, which has been frustrating since the rest of the music is fairly simple, and I come up with bits that aren't so bad in places but in others has been an unexpected challenge. So I wondered if a couple beers might help loosen things up, so I went and got a six pack of Miller longnecks.

I only drank four, but the next day it felt more like I'd drank a dozen, don't know why, because while I don't drink near like I did some years ago, I didn't expect such incapacitation from just four little longnecks.

Ended up crawling back into bed and slept the afternoon and evening. Got up at ten pm. I also continue to entertain a nicotine habit, and noticed the pack was low, and the local store closes at midnight, and I was pretty sure I'd be up past midnight, so I decided I better go get some.

Most of those who work at the local store know me and my buying habits well enough by now that I can walk in and hold up one finger and they know to hand over a pack of smokes. If I hold up two fingers that means one for me and one for my wife. Sometimes we have a running tab that we pay at the end of the week or every other week. Lots of times whoever's there gives over the smokes and grabs the pad and looks to me for verification to which I can simply nod an affirmative.

Well this was Saturday night. And late. And I guess they get busy and flustered, and the owner was behind the counter, and probably feeling harried. But I was able to hold up two fingers and she knew what I meant, but when it came time for the financial transaction, I made a motion with my hand to indicate scribbling or writing, like this was going on the tab, to be satisfied later. Well, I guess that wasn't as clear as I expected. She sought verification, spoken verbal verification, to which I assented.

Then she says something about that she really wanted just simple english. I don't remember her exact phrase, but her meaning was that I should have just spoken, "two packs and we're writing this down." Well, late Saturday night, who knows what sorts of people stumbled into the store all night. So I figured she could use some brilliantly composed witty banter, maybe help lighten her burdens. So, having taken the smokes and about to depart I said, "Muchos gracias," which was followed by a very small but very awkward moment. Sensing that my brilliantly composed witty banter faltered in the process from myself to the store owner, I tried again, except this time omitted the 'muchos', and just said, 'gracias' along with what I hoped was a facial expression to help the witty banter find welcoming arms. But it was ill-received. She just repeated that she really preferred plain simple english.

I was a bit disheartened, and was tempted to nurse a small grudge, but I have to put myself in her place. Trying to run a small store like that with a bunch of weirdos coming and going all night... that would try anyone's patience.

Anyway...

I swallowed a bug

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Now I appreciate that American humour (it's even spelt differently!) is different than English humour (spelt correctly!) but do none of you ever appreciate 'dry' humour? I often go into American chatrooms and on the whole they are a pretty good set of guys but dry humour goes right over their heads and I have to explain in fine detail what I said before any of them get it and laugh ....... some never do!

 

[hmmnmm]

Well comedy/humor is hard art anywhere. Especially stand-up. A mere minute can be a loooong time if you're bombing. And there's the risk of really really pissing somebody off. Tough job. I salute good stand-up comedians.

 

[wildsweetone]

I swallowed a bug

so much depends
upon

a can
of fly spray

filled with deadly
aerosol

sitting
on the kitchen bench.


sorry, WCW poem has been bugging me lately.



i'm torn between painting and writing poetry and neither is getting done. *sigh*

anyone read Poisonwood Bible? a friend recommended it to me recently and i'm absolutely loving the writing (and the storyline). going to have to find more novels by this author.

 

[EroticOrogeny]

I swallowed a bug

Reminds me of an old song about a woman who swallowed a fly.
I don't remember it all, its one of those like the 12 days of Christmas that repeats the previous lines each round (not sure what that's called).
Some lines I remember 'I don't know why she swallowed the fly'.
Spider is next, which 'wriggled and tickled inside her'.
It ends with 'She swallowed a horse - she's dead of course'

 

[UnderYourSpell]

There was an old lady who swallowed a fly
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - perhaps she'll die!
There was an old lady who swallowed a spider,
That wriggled and wiggled and tiggled inside her;
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!
There was an old lady who swallowed a bird;
How absurd to swallow a bird.
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!
There was an old lady who swallowed a cat;
Fancy that to swallow a cat!
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird,
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!
There was an old lady that swallowed a dog;
What a hog, to swallow a dog;
She swallowed the dog to catch the cat,
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird,
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!
There was an old lady who swallowed a cow,
I don't know how she swallowed a cow;
She swallowed the cow to catch the dog,
She swallowed the dog to catch the cat,
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird,
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!
There was an old lady who swallowed a horse...
She's dead, of course!

I've just submitted another Riddle me Ree just for you lol

 

[EroticOrogeny]

Thanks for posting the rest of the poem.
I knew the sequence of animals, but not all the rhymes.

And I'll be looking forward to your next riddle me ree!

 

[hmmnmm]

i'm torn between painting and writing poetry and neither is getting done. *sigh*

wish I could help you, but I just can't relate cuz I never had that problem (ha ha)...

how about switching them around? paint a poem or write a painting?

 

[hmmnmm]

oh and thanks for the note on my little morsel. Weird or not so weird, because that thing was not really 'written' or composed or labored over. It was one of those very rare times where it just popped in my head, while out walking with the dog. There's several deer that hang around the neighborhood, sorta half-tame and half-wild, sorta cute, sorta nuisance... once in a while I berate myself because I feel I oughta be able to sketch with words what I see, like one of the bucks; it's like a clear easy shot; but for all the times I've had to visually study it, I still can't get it. So that's when that short phrase popped in my head. I adjusted the ending for dramatic effect, multiple interpretations...

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I have a confession to make and you can tell me to sling my hook if you want but ....... well Hmmnmms darlin' I don't understand you poetry I understand when you deliberate in here but not when you do it poetically. I'm awfully sorry

 

[hmmnmm]

nothing to be sorry for Annie

 

[wildsweetone]

oh and thanks for the note on my little morsel. Weird or not so weird, because that thing was not really 'written' or composed or labored over. It was one of those very rare times where it just popped in my head, while out walking with the dog. There's several deer that hang around the neighborhood, sorta half-tame and half-wild, sorta cute, sorta nuisance... once in a while I berate myself because I feel I oughta be able to sketch with words what I see, like one of the bucks; it's like a clear easy shot; but for all the times I've had to visually study it, I still can't get it. So that's when that short phrase popped in my head. I adjusted the ending for dramatic effect, multiple interpretations...

i don't find 'buck' weird at all. i completely understand it. in several meanings. that's what made me love it. i know ex hunters who would understand it. both ways. with this poem, your 12 chosen words, make 1000. and the various images it conjures, for me, just make it that much more interesting. especially seeing as how there's not one solid object in any of those 12 words.

I have a confession to make and you can tell me to sling my hook if you want but ....... well Hmmnmms darlin' I don't understand you poetry I understand when you deliberate in here but not when you do it poetically. I'm awfully sorry

i used to feel like that and i berated myself for a very long time over not understanding poetry of people whose work i thought i should understand. may never have the gift they have, but certainly at least should be able to understand what they're saying.

all i can say is that i kept reading - lots. and kept writing - lots. and understanding came for me when i'd grown enough.

there are still some here whose poetry i can't fathom. sometimes 1201 will put up an 'odd' sounding poem that has me scratching my head for months. i've learnt to read it, to walk away for a while and then one day to come back and re-read. and sometimes, somehow, in the interval, i've learnt something (god knows what), and occasionally can find understanding. for me it's just all part and parcel of the journey. *smile*

 

[hmmnmm]

had it happen several times that I knew there was no consciously clear meaning, or wasn't even really concerned about a consciously clear meaning (sometimes just playing with sounds & such, experimentation, sketching, etc), but meaning (often multiples) came later. It's like some subconscious need to speak and if you deny it and stuff it back in its box it just looks for another opportunity; if you let it speak it may not make clear, easily interpretive sense, even to the writer, but it might do so later; cures or clears or something, like the first splashes of soda water or alka-seltzer... fizzy and fuzzy and cloudy, but it clears up... not always of course. But sometimes.

 

[hmmnmm]

then again sometimes nothing else quite better brightens a poetic day than a few minutes focally dedicated to overkill.

 

[hmmnmm]

Another angle: I have tremendous admiration for cartoonists, and I think animators must get to have some of the most fun a person should legally be allowed. But I can't draw. Also, once in a while I wonder how much fun it might be to study sculpting. Think of all the Things and materials you could play with. I think about it and get really excited but never proceed beyond the excitation. If I ever did take it beyond excited thought, a fear arises that the first attempts (at least) would be discouraging, and if I ever got beyond that anything I might make would probably not resemble any easily recognizable thing.

If I think of poetry as poetry only or even prose/fiction, the actual interest is often so-so to be honest. But if I think of poetry/prose as playing with animations, where stuff like proportions can be stretched and fucked with; and playing around with all sort of odds and ends, materials, feelings... I also love music and can play some guitar but I'm well aware that my abilities there might be considered average on a really good day....

so if I take these (and a few other) areas I'm greatly attracted to but can't really do so well, and apply them to composing of words, whether poetic or prose or prosy poetic... then it gets pretty interesting. Nothing ever really comes to a place that could be called finished. Just a bunch of buckets full of scraps, but it's incredible fun to grab a random scrap and play with it, or mate it to another scrap, see what happens with different combinations. Just playing around. That's pretty much it.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Phew glad my sanctuary is still here I had to say it because I read you poems but I never comment and although it probably never entered your mind I was still worried that you might think I hadn't bothered!! I would hate to hurt your feelings with ignoring as it's one of my pet hates. Yell at me if you must at least I can yell back but please don't ignore me lol I needed a teensy bit of sanctuary yesterday, you see I read this cool palindrome poem called Doppelganger and thought oh that's different I can do one of those and it went down like a lead balloon even got told it wasn't a palindrome but I don't see how mine is any different apart from being shorter. Sooooo I have got a teensy sulk on lol

 

[hmmnmm]

Phew glad my sanctuary is still here I had to say it because I read you poems but I never comment and although it probably never entered your mind I was still worried that you might think I hadn't bothered!! I would hate to hurt your feelings with ignoring as it's one of my pet hates. Yell at me if you must at least I can yell back but please don't ignore me lol I needed a teensy bit of sanctuary yesterday, you see I read this cool palindrome poem called Doppelganger and thought oh that's different I can do one of those and it went down like a lead balloon even got told it wasn't a palindrome but I don't see how mine is any different apart from being shorter. Sooooo I have got a teensy sulk on lol

A few extra thoughts came last night and now you tempt a few more.

I think the whole Lit/Internet phenomenon takes a good new/bad news form from head to toe. Actually at the end of the day the good probably outweighs the bad. Probably the most appealing aspect is the opportunity you get to stake out personal territory and you can do whatever you want with it. I find that alone to be incredibly amazing and irresistibly alluring. You can build, you can farm, you can mine, you can garden, and you're not limited by climate or culture or anything. You can turn your territory into an ocean or blast off into space or get purposefully lost in a dark dense pine forest... the possibilities are endless, and that's what attracts me.

Now, on the other hand, if anyone can stake their own territory and do what they want with it, then anyone can come along and give you their opinion about what you're doing. Say you're interested in growing groves of words, some poetic and others more prosy. Maybe some sections you experiment with hybridizing/blending. Maybe for the most part most of the fun is figuring it out on your own, but you also occasionally peek in a book, or go on a sightseeing tour, and jot a few notes, incorporate any and everything into your word groves.

Well, say another comes along who really knows their word groves: they could be of any shade of personality. Might be persnickety critics and use harsh words to tell you how hideous your word groves are. You can respond by telling them it's not their word grove, it's yours, and they can just mind their own business, and then later maybe think about what they said and realize you don't have to follow them to the letter but maybe apply smidgens here and there.

Another might be more liberal and encouraging and you strike up a friendship and go visit each other, hang out, have coffees and beers and joints, ideas get traded in a casual atmosphere. Maybe your word groves become even more hideous but in a good way.

And there's zillions of degrees in between.

So, you have complete control over what to publicly present at any stage of incompletion or completion or clarity or warpage. But you have no control over who might happen to come by at any particular moment or what experiences they carry or even what mood they might happen to be in.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Do you know I luv you lots?

 

[hmmnmm]

quit that now

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Shan't .... can I be your platypus?

 

[hmmnmm]

great word isn't it: platypus

 

[UnderYourSpell]

was tempted to put platypussy but didn't

 

[hmmnmm]

mammalian, amphibious, feathery swimmer's headgear... what a work... a one word poem.