Termites and good ideas

The latest on the search for a house- we settled on one, got an agreement, and just had the home inspection done yesterday. It looks like termite damage, which will need to be repaired, apparently not by us; there's a codecil in the contract that covers unforeseen things like that. With a little less than a month on our apartment lease, it's kind of coming down to the wire. But having said that, I'm really not too worried about finding a place to live. At least, not yet.
In other news, there's a really great idea someone sent me a link to, so I'll pass it along. It's a blog of audio files- you can call a phone number and record a poem, which will then be posted on the blog. The link is http://1000voices.blogspot.com Pretty cool! Enjoy the spring weather,

Zombie Dreaming

Stumbling up the steps
in formulaic repetition,
zombie-like, the
mind elsewhere
Chrome-bright dreams, I
feel like I'm
drifting, dreaming of better days
Truth is, I'd still be in
the Travelling City
if I could find my way back

Experiment #213-Bubba Ho-Tep

This week's cinematic treasure is Bubba Ho-Tep, starring the late Ossie Davis and Bruce Campbell, of the Evil Dead films. This apparently was based on a short story of the same name, but I haven't yet come across a copy. I'd be interested to read it, though.
This film goes from a bizarre premise to a more bizarre plot. It centers around a very old and decrepit Elvis Presley, now whiling away his twilight hours in an equally old and decrepit Texas nursing home. Also in the cast is Ossie Davis as (I kid you not) JFK. Guess they wanted to avoid typecasting... The cast is joined by an undead Egyptian mummy with a penchant for cowboy boots and big hats. Hence the film's title. The mummy survives by sucking out the souls of the rest home's residents, but occasionally still needs to make the occasional head call to the home's bathroom. If this sounds weird, it is. But I would highly recommend this film if for no other reason than the Hollywood- style heroism. Predictably enough, it's up to Elvis and the Prez to duke it out with the mummy and save the rest home. The film tries for dumb slapstick humor, and succeeds every inch of the way. The scene of Elvis fighting a giant beetle with a bedpan and silverware is a classic. It's every bit as laughable as it sounds. But the film is really well done, and a great soundtrack rounds it out. Fans of the Phantasm films, be sure to look for Reggie from these films in a cameo. Did this guy ever have hair? Two thumbs up for originality and a creative plot.

Evening Comes Late to Elm Street

Evening was coming on, the
town's best hour
Sun setting at the far end
of the street, painting sky in
Brilliantly subdued shades
On the balcony, hot
espresso, conversation
"They make a specific wrench for
that, you know,"
The gently kind old man, my
companion on cool
October night, we
Watch leaves turn

Good Friday

I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, or for that matter the night before that. We did, however, manage to get a deal on a house up in Enfield, CT. We close in a little under a month. Plenty of time to get all our junk together and get it moved over. The house needs paint and a few alterations to the kitchen, mostly for the sake of convenience. Actually, I'm looking forward to the project, and leaving it up to my wife to pick out all the colors for the rooms. I can get it onto the walls easily enough, but when it comes to aesthetics, I'm a little lost. So now, pending the mortgage being finalized, (fingers crossed, not that there's any major blemishes on our record) and getting the inspection done, (fingers not crossed quite as tightly), it looks like we're good to go. So now, I'll try and get some rest tonight. Not anything to do with stress, which would be the obvious cause of insomnia, but rather too much to do and not enough time to do it. But isn't that always the case?

Blue, Not far from Cobalt, CT

Monday afternoon,

the sky glowing on an otherwise

dreary gray dull day-

I reach up, over the

rooftops, billboards, highways

To brush away a tiny

wisp of cloud-

Fingertips come away

covered in blue dust

from the

sunlit sky's day

"Why did you resign?"

Strange how little things like that can get stuck in your head. One of my favorite TV shows has always been The Prisoner. It deals with a person who resigns from a position of some importance, and who is privy to sensitive information. The exact nature of what he knows is never explained, and largely becomes irrelevant as the show progresses. The hero is kidnapped and brought to a place identified only as The Village, where he is constantly asked to disclose all the information he has. Being naturally resentful of this, he does not, and continues to keep silent. The questions of his captors then come down to just one thing- why did he resign his position? The result is a battle royale of wills, with every psychological trick in the book tried out on him to get him to break down and talk. But upon closer examination, this question becomes one more of self-justification- why are you that which you are, and why do you do what you do? The hero does not accept this society he has been thrown into, and therefore refuses to provide any answers. So it got me to thinking- why am I what I am? To whom do I owe allegiance, and to whom do I justify myself? Do I need to do that, or do my own actions speak for themselves? I would like to think so, but in the process of self-examination I find that there is always something lacking. If this can be put into definite terms, it is either something to fix or something to live with. But to whom I make these justifications remains a mystery, kind of a nebulous idealized self; what I could be. Or it could be the source of endless psychological nitpicking and endless headaches. What happens happens, and happens for a reason. Ours is not to wonder why, ours is but to do and die.

Rose Red

Taillights fade, rose-

red on the

twilit road-your

departure, and I am

smiling at the rearview mirror-

Snap on the radio-

Buck Owens

Why is every parting

Not as kind?

Saturday at the Movies

I figured I'd try something different today- I can recall, as a boy, being glued to the tube every Saturday afternoon to catch the afternoon horror flick on channel 20. Hey, we didn't have cable, and down here in the Crypt, we still don't. More to do with high cable prices than finances at this point, I'm happy to say, but that's largely incidental. The point being, your humble friend and Crypt-keeper has seen more films than is good for him, so I figured I'd pass on my brain-melting hours of film watching for the discerning viewer. Though my primary area of expertise is horror films, I'll try my level best to keep it interesting. So here goes...
Today's film is the effects-driven Skinned Deep. Definitely not for everyone, those Fangoria fans among us are definitely in for a treat. This almost makes up for the horrendous acting and complete absence of a plot in this cinematic stinkbomb. It has all the typical elements of the stock horror film- family of freaks in the middle of nowhere, nigh-idiotic family that stumbles into the middle of things, and sole surviving heroine. At this point, the film descends into the depths of "holy crap, that's dumb." We are introduced to a roster of bizarre characters, and I personally was unsure if I should be laughing or not. Plates, played by the definite talent in this film, Warwick Davis, late of the Harry Potter films, uses (you guessed it) plates as a projectile weapon. You really have to see it to get the full effect of a short man winging plates at people. As this suggests, some of the scenes are pretty hilarious, intentional or not. But apart from the phenomenal prosthetic makeup effects and really dumb stuff, this movie is pretty much nonstop blood and gore, and not a lot else. I won't give away the ending, as I'm almost certain I fell asleep watching this anyway, but suffice it to say, if you like this kind of film, (and you know who we, I mean you, are) be prepared for laughs and a good time checking out the really outstanding makeup effects. I'll try and keep this a weekly thing, unless everyone completely hates it, in which case it's back to the drawing board. But at any rate, I'd advise passing by this one if horror films aren't your thing. If they are, then prepare for a treat. Oh, and watch out for older women sticking things on your foreheads. Enough said.

In the Valley of the Kings

Quickly I arose and descended

from my point of vantage

Entering the thronging crowd, the

knowledge that I had a

Vital part to play, yet

not knowing or

understanding what it was...

Around me on all sides the

crowded bazaar, the laughs and

Calls of strange-clad men and women,

Deep into those shadowed recesses of streets

Where sunlight never penetrates the gloom

Smoke, hanging, forms a pall above

doorways, darker still

Onwards, borne by some

strange impulse beneath

Awareness, on I went, joined

Silently by others

Bent our steps together, always

Man the unit, never

Man the masses-

To that place we went, together but alone

To that place we came, from winding streets and shifting sands

We were there

Fun with the Rocket-Powered Spice Rack

When I left the house this morning the ground was covered with snow, and it was coming down pretty hard. By that afternoon, the sun was shining and the snow was gone entirely. Go figure. The search for a house still goes on, but as everyone keeps telling me, and I actually believe, deep down, it'll all work out in the end. Tomorrow we go back to the fray, as the last house we put in an offer on didn't fly. But we shouldn't lose hope.
Tonight's poem I actually did not write any of. It's kind of an experiment, cobbled together from various bits and pieces of dialogue from twenty or so different Red Meat comic strips. Consider it artistic license. I had a good laugh writing it, anyway. And the comic strip's pretty funny, too.

The Red Meat Dialogue Diatribe

"What did we learn today?"
"I hate you, Milkman Dan!"

"Does this mean you don't validate parking?"

"But here in Mayberry, we just don't talk to gun-toting redneck amphetamine freaks that way."

"Not if you use a long enough piece of floss, dear."

"It was worth it, though. That dead clown was the funniest thing ever."

"Well... now that I've snapped my pelvis in half, I can hardly feel my back pain."

"I knew them radioactive zombie girls shoulda had pajamas."

"Oh, that must be that 'human head that refused to die'. I put it in there this morning while I was cleaning out the attic."

"Oh. I was afraid it might be a squirrel or something."

"Please get back under the porch before one of the neighbors sees you."

"You're a thoroughly repugnant mechanical bastard."

"Okay, three dollars and I still get to throw the oranges."

"I can only bow to your superior bastardry. Have a pleasant, relaxing weekend."

"At least I'll never have to wonder what a mummy tastes like."

"See? That wasn't so hard to say, now was it?"

"I need to grab my Skynrd tapes and my denim vest."

"Finis"

Truck-Mounted Milk Catapult

And so life goes on. I came across an interesting article, calling Buddhists to task about activism and compassion. It's easy to talk about being compassionate, but to really get out there and do something is another matter entirely. The article focused also on activism and protesting, and how Buddhists tend to avoid these types of things as a whole. And in many ways, this is true. The point the writer makes is that protesting and activism is "anti"-something, and kind of creates an us-and-them mentality. I'm reminded of that sage of the funny pages, Pogo-"We have seen the enemy, and he is us." But if someone has an idea that they think will work better, they should bring it into the public forum to both get new perspectives and feedback on it. It's easy to get really angry, both on an individual and social level, and there's a place for that too- this can create the motivation for change and further development. But simply being angry is not enough. If this anger can promote new ideas and development, and motivate us to right wrongs, then it is a useful force indeed. If it results in vengeance and violence, it may not be the best course of action. If we protest a wrong, we should avoid creating a wrong ourselves. I can recall the protests in NYC prior to the invasion of Iraq. There were a lot of really angry people there, but also a lot of ideas. And in this day and age, I think it's ideas that will make or break the world. So that's all from the soapbox tonight.

On the Streets of Providence

Well, this isn't so bad,

stalking the streets of Providence

Compelled to return by the

stark fist grinding

ceaselessly

Against the rusted metal soul

This isn't so bad, but

wait till the Devil comes by in

his motorboat-

Bird implies flight,

thoughts of the key lead

to knowledge of the jail, and

I am free again, to

spin the painted wheels,

In time growing weary from

Keeping their constant motion

Hands blistered from constant wear-

Regardez moi, je suis le bateleur

settled, grounded, rooted

The streets become my world,

Tonight is mine alone.