I watched you drive by /
yours eyes — once on me — forward /
the road your lover.
Filed under Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
And that’s the way it is….
Three guys are sitting at a bar.
First guy: “Yeah, I make $75,000 a year after taxes.”
Second guy: “What do you do for a living?”
First guy: “I’m a stockbroker. How much do you make?
Second guy: “I should clear $60,000 this year.”
First guy: “What do you do?”
Second guy: “I’m an architect.”
The third guy sits there quietly, staring into his beer, and then the others turn to him.
Second guy: “Hey, how much do you make per year?”
Third guy: “I guess about $13,000.”
First guy: “Oh yeah? What kind of stories do you write?”
[Editor’s note: Last figures I heard was that the average writer makes less than $15,000 a year from his or her writing. Must be something more than money driving people to write. What drives you?]
Filed under Monday morning writing joke
Stroke of Genius
by David E. Booker
O’ gods of justice and of light
Pause to consider this poor man’s plight.
He stands erect, with chain saw there
In place left best for underwear.
He yanks the cord with all his might
Hoping to overcome his limpid plight.
The motor chuffs; the man’s abrupt
Wondering loudly why nature interrupts.
He tugs and tugs and tugs once more
Imploring the gods: implore, implore.
Sweat from his face is running down
And he wants to toss saw to the ground.
Yet, one final time he assails his plight,
Stroking and stroking with all his might.
The engine coughs and sputters to life
Then its biting causes him new strife.
Putting something sharp where he ought not to.
Filed under Freeform Friday, poetry by author
scraps of the morning /
tired moon, tart breeze, hollowed dreams /
a mirror’s blurred face.
Filed under Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
April 18 – 20, 2013
Basic information:
Southern Lit Alliance
3069 Broad St., Ste. 2,
Chattanooga, TN 37408
web: www.SouthernLitAlliance.org
Phone: 800-267-4232 or 423-267-1218
Thursday, April 18 – Saturday, April 20, 2013
Celebration of Southern Literature
Filed under Writing Tip Wednesday
A writer died and was given the option of going to heaven or hell.
She decided to check out each place first. As the writer descended into the fiery pits, she saw row upon row of writers chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they were repeatedly whipped with thorny lashes.
“Oh my,” said the writer. “Let me see heaven now.”
A few moments later, as she ascended into heaven, she saw rows of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they, too, were whipped with thorny lashes.
“Wait a minute,” said the writer. “This is just as bad as hell!”
“Oh no, it’s not,” replied an unseen voice. “Here, your work gets published.”
Filed under Monday morning writing joke
The blathering idiot stood in line for a job interview. He had finished writing his campaign memoir, but so far had found no publisher to accept it. His old job at the candy factory was no longer available. And his off again / on again girlfriend Zoey said she was not going to date a man without a job, even a former candidate for the highest office in the land.
So, here he was in line, down to his last ten dollars. After waiting an hour and half, he was about to be interviewed. If he didn’t get the job, he didn’t know what he was going to do.
“Next,” the woman in the office called out.
The guy who had just finished interviewing stepped out of the small room and past the blathering idiot. His face was ashen. His eyes wide, drool at the corner of his mouth.
“Next!” the woman was louder and more insistent.
The blathering idiot hesitated, unsure he wanted to step inside.
When he did, she immediately reached up and snatched his resume out of his hands.
“Don’t like to read them beforehand,” she said. “Like to feel the vibe off the paper as I look you straight in the eye. The paper can lie, but you can’t.”
She glanced over his resume, raising an eyebrow when she read something in particular. She then slapped the resume down on her desk.
“So you ran for the highest office in the land?”
The blathering nodded slightly.
“Well, did you?” She stared right at him, though he felt like it was more right through him.
“Yes,” he said.
“So, did you win?”
The blathering idiot wondered if it was a trick question. If he had won, would be here, standing before this woman, too scared to sit down? Or would she be the one who might be sweating and too scared to sit down.
“No,” he said finally, “I did not win.”
“Thought not,” she said, her voice gravelly, maybe from too many cigarettes. She had that sharp cigarette smell about her. Some smokers wore like perfume. “Don’t know anything about his Pro-Accordion Party you mentioned, but it wouldn’t have matter. I didn’t vote anyway. Waste of time.”
After a moment, the woman looked up and said, “You can go now.”
“But you didn’t ask me any other questions.”
“My vibe tells me you’re lying.”
“Lying?”
“Yeah, like a politician.”
And there he was, branded for being a lying politician and he hadn’t even won the election. He’d probably never be able to find work now.
Filed under blathering idiot
In our continuing quest to revisit a classic, or even a curiosity from the past and see how relevant it is, we continue with The Devil’s Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce. Originally published in newspaper installments from 1881 until 1906. You might be surprised how current many of the entries are.
For example, here are definitions for Absurdity, Adherent, Administration, Admiration, and Admonition. The Old definitions are Bierce’s. The New definitions are mine or somebody else contemporary. The new definitions can also be simply examples of The Devil’s Dictionary definitions. From time to time, just as it was originally published, we will come back to The Devil’s Dictionary, for a look at it then and how it applies today. Click on Devil’s Dictionary in the tags below to bring up the other entries.
OLD DEFINITIONS:
Absurdity, n. A statement of belief manifestly inconsistent with one’s own opinion.
Adherent, n. A follower who has no yet obtained all that he expects to get.
Administration, n. An ingenious abstraction in politics, designed to receive the kicks and cuffs due to the premier or president. A man of straw, proof against bad-egging and dead-catting.
Admiration, n. Our polite recognition of another’s resemblance to ourselves.
Admonition, n. Gentle reproof, as with a meat-axe. Friendly warning:
Consigned by way of admonition,
His soul forever to perdition.
Judibras
NEW DEFINITIONS:
Absurdity, n. A statement of belief manifestly inconsistent with one’s own, but accepted none-the-less as truth because it has been spoken of often enough by enough commentators and talking heads so as to make it real.
Adherent, n. A follower of an absurdity (or several) who has not yet obtained all that he expects to get from his or her absurdities. For example: Those who say they want less federal government involvement in their lives while living in a state that gets more in federal money than it pays in.
Administration, n. An ingenious abstraction in politics, designed to receive the kicks and cuffs due to the premier or president.
Example: In the news: On December 7th of last year, the Administration hung a banner on an air craft carrier announcing that the war was over. “Mission Accomplished,” it read. When asked about this today, the straw man said, “I never said that.”
Admiration, n. Our polite recognition of another’s resemblance to ourselves, up to and including our own adherence to the same absurdity. “He’s a man I’d like to have a beer with,” one voter said in remarking why he voted for the teetotaler running for office.
Admonition, n. Gentle reproof, as with a meat-axe. Friendly warning.
Damned by Fox news admonition,
His liberal soul forever to perdition.
The Adherent was advised of the absurdity in believing everything the Administration said. But the Adherent’s admiration knew no bounds, and then he became an abomination and received the highest compliment: an admonition from those he admired.
Filed under Devil's Dictionary, Photo by author
Hope is a flower /
blooming in those rare moments, /
filling quiet needs.
Filed under Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Booker's Blog 