Sometimes when I have music playing and I have to leave the house, I leave it on anyway. It's as if I say "amuse yourself while I'm out." I think my house is better for the music being left on. I did it this morning.
I'm going on a prune bender. Prunes are delicious. You should eat them more often. I think I'll have one now. Yum!
Clouds, daffodils, mountains, lovers, children, trees: these have all had things written about them. But what about gutters, nose-picking, scowls, dandruff, swamps, turtles, toads, mud and, yes, even broccoli? Poems about these things are not so popular. Poets have got a lot to answer for.
When I went to work yesterday, it was hardly cold at all, and the sky was a monotonous blue. Then I got in and found M and R saying to one another "Bring on spring! Bring on summer!" Please. It's bad enough that winter's ending without having to think about the coming heat-death. I hate summer.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Tim, your links stink, you fink!
- John Bangsund's Threepenny Planet
- Broken Biro
- Poetry 24
- Superlative scribbles
- Kirstyn McD!
- Rorrim a tsomla almost a mirror
- More Sterne
- Sterne
- Cam the man from the Dan.
- Too hot to Raaaaaaandallllllll!
- Erin's Excellently Everlasting Effervescements!
- Slammy Infamy
- Hail Paco!
- Baron Blandwagon, purveyor of cyberbunnies, hawker of Roger Corman, and Misruler of the Multiverse
- The Bolta. Aiyeeeeee!!!!!
- Bad Apple Audrey
- The cartoon church
- Sir Martinkus
- A Zemblanian abroad and at home
- A hodge podge of hotzeplotz
- THE SLAMMA!
- Jottlesby's nottings, or should that be Nottlesby's jottings?
- The Snarking of the Hunt
- Jazzy Hands
- David of Metal City
- David the Barista
- The Blogger on the Cast Iron Balcony
- Be an Opinion Dominion Minion!
- Mel...
- ... and Fel
- His brilliant career - from whale sushi to crumbed prawn
- Jo Blogs
- Yet another Tim
- Croucherisms...
- Was two peas, now three peas
- Desciopolous!
- ... Still Life - now with extra rotating cats!
- Erin...
- An Amazingly Awesome Australian Ampersand!
- Blink and you'll miss 'er
- Red in the land of the tigers!
- Wire of Vibe
- Chase him, ladies, he's in the cavalry!
- The Non-palindromical Editrix in Germanium
- Old Sterne
- Gempiricalisations
- TonyT
- The briefs...
- ... and the brieflets
- The Purple Blog
- Blairville, lair of all that is wicked and perfidious
- The enticingly acronymical CSH
- EXTREEEEEEEME WYNTER!
- Mark of California
- Jellyfish
- Silent Speaking
- Lexicon the Mexican
Email: timhtrain - at - yahoo.com.au
Blog Archive
-
▼
2008
(316)
-
▼
August
(33)
- Comments about unrelated but terribly important ma...
- Smarmy doggerel Saturday
- Where's Wally - the existential version
- Four playlets
- Reader quiz! Can you spot the spelling mistake?
- Drip drip
- If Napoleon did it, why can't I?
- Ooh, we're deep today, our Edith
- Animals that work with humans!
- Fillums schmillums
- The process of natural rejection
- You can't get much smaller than that
- Smoker's voice
- Now he belongs to the ages, again
- Less-than thrilling adventures with dubious morals...
- Pitchers at an exhibition
- Red Bullshit
- I give it five stars for the gigantic amoebic plas...
- Spirit of dumb
- Take a fillip from Phillip to make Philip
- A point
- Respectable scientific analysis of a common problem
- Emission by emission is the leading cause of emiss...
- Rub the screen for luck
- Historical record of events of pressing concern
- Complaints and feedback to the Department of Badness
- Repression by spoon
- Whoring Selling Australia
- Headlines from the Identity Theft Times
- Bigfoot shmigfoot
- Short story
- Two poems about clouds
- No title
-
▼
August
(33)
8 comments:
The influence of one N Cavenagh on your eating habits is becoming all too apparent.
If N and I share an enthusiasm for the eating of prunes, then that's all to the good, but I assure you, it's an independent addiction.
Would you like a prune?
Prunes are disgusting.
Winter is miserable.
I vomited while being made to eat prunes and custard as a small child. Haven't eaten prunes since. My mother had the good sense to never serve them to me again.
T.S. Eliot wrote about gutters[1], and W.H. Auden about nose-picking[2]. So it's not as bad as you think.
[1] Preludes, 1917.
[2] Tell Me the Truth About Love, 1938.
True, but I'll not be satisfied until they rename buttercups and butterflies guttercups and gutterflies.
I guess there's always gutter journalism.
And I had no idea prunes could cause such a reaction!
Having a pet makes the whole leaving things on thing seem a little less crazy..even if the pet is only a fish.
at last i know where i can find
a friend a soul a mate
together we can stand and sing
it's summer that we hate
holding hands in common joy
swishing past the grate
dancing round the fireplace
it's summer that we hate
and when they point and smirk our way
when giggles test our fate
never fear for we know best
its summer that we hate
with matching scarves
it's ne'er too late
to join in honest outcry
its summer summer summer summer
its summer that we hate
Sooooo, you're going to get a bit tetchy about the whole global warming thing then Wanderer?
Post a Comment