Category Archives: Silly

November Writing Challenge #11

. . . going by date, since I certainly haven’t written every day. See what can happen if I get a character?

Cast:

a poet/professional football player with an eating disorder

a therapist

 

Setting:

A therapist’s office—two chairs, a desk

The therapist is sitting behind the desk when the poet enters. There are items on the desk, pencils and so on. During the scene, the therapist periodically picks something up and fiddles with it.

 

Therapist: Sit down, sit down.

Poet: Thank you. sits

Long silence.

Therapist: So. What do you want to talk about?

Poet:  Food. I mean, food, really. I want to talk about food.

Therapist: Say more.

Poet:  Well, I mean, I like it. I really like it. I eat it all the time. I have to, for work. I mean, I play football, right, so I have to stay bulked up. So I eat. Food. Steaks and chops and all like that. Bread. Donuts. Cake. Hamburgers. Ice cream. My favorite is chocolate but I like cherry and peach and chunky monkey and strawberry and even sherbet. Lemon, orange, lime. That mixture, you know, that’s striped together. You can scoop it out in your bowl so it looks like a rainbow. Salad—not as much salad as I oughta, but some. Just lettuce and tomato is the best with French dressing or blue cheese. Hotdogs but with just mustard, no relish. French Fries. Pie. Apple pie is the best, but rum raisin is pretty good. And date cream. And coconut cream. And banana cream. Pumpkin if it’s not canned. Mincemeat on Thanksgiving, but not with ice cream, and peach. And. . .

Therapist: It seems to me that you talk about food.

Poet:  Right. You’ve got it. Once I start talking about food, I can’t stop. I mean, if I even think about it, right, I start talking about it. Baked beans. Macaroni and cheese. . .

Therapist: interrupting  I see. I see. Your job is football. I recognize you, as a matter of fact, and I’m a fan, but that ought not to affect our work together. Unless, of course, you have a problem with that.

Poet:  I don’t. Really. I mean, everybody who watches football knows who I am, so I’d have trouble finding a therapist who doesn’t know who I am. And even if they don’t watch football, there are those mustard commercials I do. You know where I eat hotdogs like it’s a test of some kind and one is plain, just in a bun, you know one of those soft kind of buns, not the whole wheat ones. Those are weird. If you’re going to eat a hotdog, you shouldn’t bother with whole wheat, unless you’re having a tofu hotdog but those are gross so why bother. And they say that a bunch of them even have meat in them anyway so what’s the point. And one of the hotdogs has relish and mustard and the other has just mustard and I always say in the commercial that I like the one with plain mustard the best, and I do, really. Relish kind of interferes with the taste of the hotdog, but mustard enhances it, if you know what I mean. Especially that red pepper relish. . .

Therapist:  interrupting  I understand that you also write poetry.

Poet:  I do. I kinda like to have that as a sideline, you know. It gives me something to think about when I’m working out. Words. How they go together. LIke hotdog and mustard. Hotdog and mustard. Hotdog and mustard. Hotdog and mustard. . .

Therapist:  I see. So do you write poems about food. . .

Poet: interrupting  I most write about food. I like the way food words go together. Brown bread and butter. Turkey and stuffing. Potatoes and gravy. Pancakes and syrup. Bacon and eggs. Steak and eggs. BLT. That’s one of my favorites. BLT. BLT. BLT. BLT. BLT. ..

Therapist: interrupting  I understand. What is your past experience with food? When you were a child, for instance?

Poet: I liked it. Mom says I was, like, always a good eater. A good little trencherman she said, whatever that means. She used to cut up hotdogs and put them into baked beans and I liked those. And chicken a la king. I like the sound of that, too. A la king. A la king. A la king.

Therapist: I can see that. So you always had enough to eat growing up?

Poet: Oh yeah. Mom was a good cook. Good mac and cheese, good hamburger casserole, good meatloaf. With baked potato and squash, usually and pie for dessert. And peanut butter sandwiches on homemade bread. With honey. Or jam. Or jelly. Or fluff.

Therapist: How long have you had this problem? Talking about food?

Poet: Is it a problem?

Therapist: Is it? I assumed that’s why you came to see me.

Poet: No! Why would that be a problem? No, I came to see you because my girlfriend wants to break up and I’m pretty depressed about that. We’ve been together for, like, five years.

Therapist: What are the reasons she gives for breaking up with you?

Poet: Communication. She says we have a communication problem.

Therapist: And how do you respond to that?

Poet: Well, I tell her that I don’t think we do. We go out all the time for dinner and talk. Chinese food, Mexican, sometimes Thai, but I don’t like that as well, and she doesn’t like Indian as much as I do because it’s too hot for her, even if she only gets the mild. Good old diner food sometimes, you know, hot turkey sandwiches with cranberry sauce and some pickled beets on the side. And sometimes we go out to breakfast. She always gets just yogurt and granola, though, so I don’t see the point. And I like sausage gravy on biscuits. Or sometimes three eggs over easy, or a cheese omelet with white toast. And sometimes. . .

Therapist: What does your girlfriend like to talk about?

Poet: Oh, well, she talks about plants. She grows a lot of plants. African violets and things. Ferns. Those hanging ones with the shiny leaves. Stuff like that. She talks about those all the time. They need water and stuff. Fertilizer. But she doesn’t have a garden outdoors. Just house plants. Nothing she can eat. But she has room, and sometimes I’m like, “Hey, you could like grow spinach and broccoli and lettuce and tomatoes and all like that. Grow your own stuff for BLTs except the bacon part. I really like that combination:  BLT, BLT, BLT . . . .

The therapist slowly gets up and extis, while the poet happily repeats BLT until the curtain comes down

 

November Writing Challenge #3

The dumbest so far:

 

November Writing Challenge #3

Scene: If I knew how to do sets, I’d have some kind of backdrop that makes the pinhead (spotlight) look like it starts out the size of a real pinhead. But I have no idea how this could happen.

 

Cast:

two scholars, in doctoral robes

Angels—dancers—enough to fill a spotlight that covers the whole stage

Lighting guy—barely visible above the stage until the end, when he/she is spotlit him/herself

 

The scholars stand stage right.

Scholar One:  How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?

Scholar Two: I have no idea. Has anyone ever asked them?

Scholar One:  I don’t think so. Hm. Shall we try? pulls a pin from hat and holds it up

Both Scholars (shouting): How many of you can dance on this?

The shout echoes and echoes while the lights go out and the Scholars exit.  A small silver-white spotlight appears on the stage. Dim lighting elsewhere. The angels enter, stage right, in a line. One moves into the spotlight and dances. The light is just a little bit too big—clearly two angels could dance in it. The next angel in line is invited into the spot and the dance goes on—in a tight formation. This continues until the spot extends to the edge of the stage. The angels waiting in line should be like anybody waiting in line:  checking fingernails, stretching, texting, talking on phones, whatever. When the stage is full—and the angels are all fairly annoyed:

Voice of a Scholar, loud and echoing from the wings:  So, how many of you can dance on the head of a pin?

An angel:  (shouting toward the ceiling) How big is the damned pinhead?

Lighting guy: How big do you want it?

Curtain.

ORNITHISCHIANS

ORNITHISCHIAN BEHAVIOR

~after Bird Behavior by Donald & Lillian Stokes

 

 

Tyrannosaurus  Rex:  

AUDITORY DISPLAYS

Song

A rapid, rising bubbly song with a bounce.  Distinguished by a “Bibble-bibble” at the end of each sequence.

Males only

CONTEXT  On territory at beginning of breeding season

  Calls

Twigger-Call

“TWIG’GER-TWIG’ER-TWIG’GER-TWIG’GER”

Male or female

A low buzzy call with a strong accent on the first syllable.  May be repeated up to five times, growing louder and higher each time.

CONTEXT  On territory at beginning of breeding season by male;  by either male or female when nest is approached.   Occasionally while hunting, when prey is scarce.

 

Peel-Call

“PEEEL, PEEEL,  PEEEEL”

Male or female

Soft, high-pitched, each syllable distinct.

CONTEXT  During courting behavior, between parents and young during feeding.

 

Bibble-bibble-Call

“BIBBLE, BIBBLE”

Male or Female

Bubbly, rapid, rising and falling in pitch.  May be repeated many times.

CONTEXT  Between male and female during mating, also during nest-building and between members of a flock while hunting.

VISUAL DISPLAYS

See-sawing

Male

Front feet are held out to the sides to aid balance while the dinosaur alternately raises and lowers his tail and head in see-saw fashion and shuffles his feet to turn slowly in a circle.  Usually occurs on rise of ground.

CALLS  Twigger-call or Song

CONTEXT  On territory at beginning of breeding season, and for a few days after arrival of females.

Display Fighting

Males

Two males bang the tops of their heads together while gnashing their teeth and scrabbling at one another with front feet.  Very rarely results in injury.

CALLS  None.

CONTEXT  On territory, after one male has challenged another.

Horizontal Fluff

Male or Female

Stretched in a horizontal posture, the dinosaur fluffs its head feathers.  The mouth is open.

CALL  Twigger-call

CONTEXT  Given when another T. Rex approaches nesting area.  Occasionally directed at other dinosaur species as well.

Side Hop

Male or Female

Dinosaur with food in its mouth hops sideways toward another and passes the food.

CALL  Peel-call or Bibble-bibble-call

CONTEXT  A courtship behavior initiated by the female.  If the male accepts the food, she waits while he finds and brings a piece of food to her.  If he does not accept it, she may try again, but will generally leave his territory and approach another male.   Also occasionally between a mother and a fledgling.  Observed on rare occasions between two females.

Necking

Male and Female

A mated pair rub heads and entwine necks while clicking teeth

CALL  Bibble-bibble-call

CONTEXT  Before and after copulation

Begging

Male or Female Young

Arms are held at sides and fluttered up and down while the dinosaur leans forward with its mouth open wide

CALL  Peel–call

CONTEXT  Given by nestlings and fledglings when they receive food from parents.

 

BEHAVIOR

Territory

Size:  2-4 Square Miles

Main Behaviors:  See-sawing, Twigger-Call, Song

The size of a T. Rex pair’s territory depends upon the availability and variety of food sources.  The male begins to claim a territory late in the dry season by standing on a hill or ridge of ground near the center of the desired area and See-sawing, while giving Song.  Usually there is little competition, but occasionally another male will approach the See-sawing male while its back is turned and begin See-sawing without Song.  When the intruder’s presence is recognized by the first dinosaur, a Display Fight generally ensues.  The vanquished dinosaur will back away from the victor, who immediately continues See-sawing and increasingly loud Song.  Females within the area watch these behaviors closely and initiate courtship immediately after Territory is established.

Mating

Main Behaviors:  Side Hopping, Necking, Peel–Call, Bibble-bibble-Call

Once the male has established a Territory, an interested female will approach Side Hopping.  If the male reciprocates, Necking and copulation follow very quickly, and continue for several hours.  Females may travel great distances before they find Territories that are satisfactory and males that will accept them.  This appears to be the case especially when food is scarce, perhaps acting as a control on population.

Nesting

Main Behaviors: Horizontal Fluff, Twigger-call

The nest is built by the female alone, while the male watches to keep intruders away with the Horizontal Fluff display.  The female scratches a rudimentary hole in the dust, and lines it with grass stems and dead fronds.  Between five and twelve pale blue oval eggs are laid at the rate of one or two a day, and brooding begins after all eggs have been laid.  The male shares brooding, and the non-brooding T. Rex will generally leave the area to hunt.  Because eggs are one of the favored foods of carnivorous dinosaurs, nests are guarded closely.  Observers have not seen a T.Rex consume eggs of its own species if the nest is guarded, but an unguarded nest, though very rare, is considered fair game.

Nestlings and Fledglings

Main Behaviors:  Side Hop, Begging, Horizontal Fluff, Peel-Call, Twigger-Call

Eggs hatch within a few hours of one another, usually during a two-day period.  Nestlings are covered with fine dull gray feathers, which fluff out within a few hours.  The nestlings are  brooded by the female only, while the male hunts.  He feeds the female first, bringing her large pieces of meat, then regurgitates a semi-digested “Tyrannosaurus Milk” to the young.  Commonly only three or four young survive this stage, since competition for food is vigorous.   After six or seven days, the young begin to leave the nest for short periods, but never stray far.  The male then takes his turn guarding the young, freeing the female to hunt on her own.  Both parents Feed.  When the young are hopping about strongly–in about ten days–the parents lead them away from the nest, in single file, with the female (usually) in the lead and the male bringing up the rear.  Along the way, both parents hunt small game and bring it live to the young ones who attempt complete the kill.  After another week, the young generally hunt well enough on their own to venture short distances away from the parents, but the parents are still watchful, and remain so until the young are nearly full grown.  During the entire period, the young are protected from predators by the parents, first by warning calls, then by direct attack, if necessary.  However, once the young are half-grown, the only serious threats to them are environmental.

Group Behavior

Main Behaviors: Bibble-bibble-Call, Display Fighting (among males), Twigger-Call

After the nesting season is over, the T. Rex family groups stay together until mating season begins again.  They hunt, sometimes cooperatively.  When food is abundant, there is no competition between family groups, but in times of scarcity, both sexes may give the Twigger-Call, and males may engage in Display Fighting. Just before sunset, they settle on a rise in the land, often an old nest site, and the young run around for an hour or so until nearly dark, at which time the family group huddles together for warmth.

Near the beginning of the following dry season,  the juveniles lose all but their head feathers and leave their parents.  Each group of siblings will stay together for another year.  They may form larger flocks with one or two other juvenile groups.  When they reach sexual maturity at the age of three, these flocks disperse and the young dinosaurs go off alone to find their own Territories and mates.

MANNERS FOR GENTLEMEN

MANNERS FOR GENTLEMEN

A gentleman should never question a lady’s poems.

~Ray Hudson

 

A gentleman always pours wine for a lady

so that the fire under her skin

will not set the alcohol ablaze.

 

A gentleman always precedes a lady into a crowd

to shield the innocent

from the power of her gaze.

 

A gentleman always seizes his hatbrim when a lady passes

so that the whirlwind that follows her

will not carry it off into the street.

 

A gentleman always opens a door for a lady

so that she may have her sword arm free

to vanquish the villans lurking behind.

(This is also why he carries her packages.)

 

A gentleman always walks on the streetside of a lady

so that she may, with a white-gloved finger,

tap into place any loose bricks

in the foundations of civilization.

 

A gentlemen always follows a lady into a carriage

so that he will not be in the way

if she must stun the driver, seize the reins,

and gallop resolutely toward the invading hordes.

 

 

ATLANTA REVIEW, fall 2008

TOURISTS–a bit of autumn doggerel

TOURISTS–a bit of autumn doggerel

 

He lingered beside the covered bridge,

while his wife sat in their red auto.

The car with its Lousiana plates

blocked the road while he took the photo.

 

I welcomed him to Vermont. Why not?

They’re everywhere you go.

I’ve stopped being hostile, or even annoyed

(but I live in New Haven, not Stowe).

 

One time in Ireland, I entered a pub,

and everyone there stopped their talking.

And once I admired an old French church

while bereted men stood smoking and gawking.

 

I walked down the street in a small Polish town;

women parted their curtains to peer.

It’s good to be kind to the strangers we meet

since we’re all of us tourists here.

TO THE PLASTER PEOPLE

TO THE PLASTER PEOPLE

 

Plaster People

Wipe Feet!

Do not go in Gallery!!

Clean up downstairs

and exit Out Back

—sign in the hallway outside sculpture studio, Castleton State College

 

Among the paintings,

installations of true Art

the Plaster People blunder,

powdery tracks wrecking

the good carpet,

powdery fingerprints

defacing all that is

canonical and clear.

 

One can’t have them

scattering their dust,

clouds and billows,

the stuff of stars.

 

The Plaster People in their

poofy hordes trample

up from the foundations.

They have buried

every civilization in turn.

Oh, look on their creative

struction, and despair!

 

A friend who teaches at Castleton hung this sign up in the Arts Center there.

GASTROLITHS

Traditionally, the rich partook of diamonds

in the drawing room just before dinner.

Butlers filled and passed the heirloom lith-bowls

made of ebony or jet, and subtly shaped

to show to advantage the clarity, the fire.

To employ a family crest or other personal symbol

has always been considered execrable taste but

at State and Embassy functions, it has not been uncommon

to see one’s country’s flag displayed in coloured gems

on a small rectangular tray above one’s service plate.

However, since good cheap synthetics are available now,

many discriminating people have turned to laser-shaped obsidians

imported from Armenia or Greece, or hand-knapped flints

from paleolithic sites in Middle Belgium or Southwest France.

A small monogram may be engraved on each.

 

The newly rich debate the merits of river stones

from the Amazon, the Volga, the Nile.

They choose colors that match their decor,

shapes that complement their latest dinnerware,

textures that enhance the dining experience.

They arrange the stones in individual dishes

garnished with rose petals or eucalyptus leaves,

or on polished boards of exotic woods, or in perfect shells.

They are careful to select compatible wines.

 

Vegetarians, Progressives, and others of that ilk

use organic pebbles which they gather from pure sources

in local mountains or deserts  and pile in pottery crocks

or scatter in fountains of filtered rainwater.

They select and swallow a few any time of day,

whenever they feel the need.

 

The poor grab whatever they can get:

broken cement, beach glass,

a handful of winter gravel

left over on the edges of the road.

 

 

 

MP  May 16, 2008

HOT FLASHES–an “old” poem

~response to a young poet 
who thought the subject “too pedestrian” for poetry

“Hotflashes” are not pedestrian–not
dull colorless drab humdrum lackluster stodgy uninspired
“lacking in liveliness, charm, or surprise” —
but rather pointed, chromatic, vivid, symphonic, flavorful, fresh, animating.
What better way to describe the quality of heat flaring out from core to face
like the melted innards of Earth vented from volcano,
like wildfire scorching shabby unkempt forest,
like blowtorch, blastfurnace, bunsen burner under ore-filled crucible,
melting out iron, silver–who knows?–even gold,
like hot air roaring, filling the bright bag of a balloon drifting slow
above orchards, over fields of ripened corn.

Certainly they are not lacking in liveliness?
Isn’t it fun to watch us frantically fanning,
opening our collars, rolling up sleeves,
peeling off sweaters like aged strippers gone mad?
Our bedmates awake amazed as we flap the sheets,
throw quilts on the floor, frighten the cats.
We leap up to open windows, let in the blowing snow.
And surely no cosmetic can equal the charming girlish flush
a hotflash paints across a tired face?

Or is there anything but birth or love or death
that can surprise us more?
What is happening? we cry.
We’re barely accustomed to fertility,
and now it’s gone with the scirocco.
It took us so long to grow up, and now, in a flash (or two),
behind our mirrors we see not our mothers’ but our grandmothers’ faces
gaping in wonder at the astonished old women staring back
with eyes that are strangely, still, our very own.

Dec. 11, 2000

SOME RIDDLES

What is yellow and never stops talking?
Who hides his last name under a train?
What color is a hippopotenuse?
What does a walrus do in the rain?

What did the granny say to the lion?
Where do elephants go to sneeze?
Why did the fishmonger write a sonnet?
If it’s a Tuesday in April, who hid the cheese?

Can Earth revolve yet make no motion?
What did the chicken sing to the sky?
Knock, knock.  Come in, if you’ve a notion
and tell me specifically:  how does time fly?