Vacation Time Kicks In

Well, the time has finally come for me to NOT WORK for a little while!
I love it I love it I love it.
Such a rare occasion for me.
In fact, the main reason I am writing this blog right now is just to announce that someone else is working where I'm supposed to be working right now and it's not me because I am HERE, on luscious Vancouver Island totally -- NOT WORKING!
Enjoying a cup of coffee out on the deck with the sun beaming in, and Mt. Baker off to the left of me, as a background. CRAZY GORGEOUS.
Enjoying a really terrific book I started reading on the flight over here. Bel Canto by Ann Patchett.
Seriously now, if you have not read this book, dear Reader-Friend, you must make a point of watching for it.
Pick it up. Trust me, it's wonderful.

Now, on the Bookpuddle-Trivia side of things, I have a question.
Why is it that every time I travel anywhere on a plane, the razor blades miraculously detach themselves from the...... razor-blade holder thing?
I'm not kidding, this has happened so many times that I now know for sure that I am not imagining it.
This time, when I left home and packed my things, I took special note of the fact that my Gillette Mach3 Turbo-style shaver blade was firmly attached to the handle. Clicked in there, ready for use.
But again, as I unpack to use that Mach3 on my barb-wire face, the dang blade is separated from the handle. Free-floating in the nether regions of my...... cosmetics bag!
This is not a joke, I am being 100% serious. I am really wondering if anyone out there has an answer to this dilemma.
Does some sort of airport official root through my suitcase, go into the shave-kit and deliberately un-click the razor blades from their little holster?
If so.... why?
Or does the air pressure from where the bags are stowed do this somehow?

Oh well, I better go now and play with some of the local wildlife.
This little girl here, her name is Zoe [Greek word for "life"].
She's my sister's Yorkshire-Silky Terrier, and she definitely has a lot of life in her.



For a disturbing example of what we [sadistic] Western Canadians consider FAIR PLAY, click HERE.
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Splash du Jour: Monday

Have a great Monday!
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Different Shelves: A Saturday Poem

Different Shelves

Brown cried out, Hey, I'm a movie all of a sudden,
did you hear? Heard, saw and slept it, said Rowling,
adding, Sorry Dan, but the popcorn was more exciting!
They never quite translate, I find, opined Patterson.
Bug-eyed and scary slick, King shouted from a stack,
I am still the king, you fuckers! Hah, sneered Clancy,
prove it, Bangor-boy! A grinning Grisham asked no
one in particular if they had ever seen a 1990's hit-list.
Meanwhile, filing her nails, Danielle Steele turned to
her right and quietly vomited something green onto the
left shoulder pad of an unsuspecting Anita Shreve.
Three aisles down, a peace was in progress.

How happy is the little stone that rambles in the road
alone, and doesn't care about careers, said Emily to
Edna, who agreed, adding, Life in itself is nothing,
an empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. Browning
looked to them both, nodding, That damnable racket
yonder causes me to rue my birthday, girls. Just then,
as Rupert Brooke was about to speak, a hush, allowing
only the hum of a ceiling fan, fell upon everyone --
listening. How can my Muse want subject to invent
while thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
thine own sweet argument, too excellent
for every paper to rehearse?

c. Ciprianowords Inc. 2009

Splash du Jour: Friday

The Russians actually sent a dog into space. They had to fire up a Frisbee first, but they did it.
-- Craig Ferguson --

Have a great Friday!

Dreams are a Wildworld

I am usually quite tired after a hard day at work, but tonight I am even more tired than I usually am.
That's because I was awakened in the wee hours of the morning by a weird dream, and I couldn't get back to sleep very easily. No sooner had I finally conked out again when my alarm went off anyway, and I had to begin the "snooze button" ritual.
All in all I could have used a lot more sleep.

In the dream I was at my older brother's place and we were all playing with their new puppy, this cute little milk-breathed thing. Cuter than a little sack of hamburgers it was!
Thing is, their existing dog, which was this big Irish Setter sort of beast (Like Clifford from the kid's books) was not equally impressed with the puppy. (In reality, they do have a dog, but it's just a little Shi Tzu, so where this big red dog came from I have no idea).
Anyhoo, Big Red was severely jealous of all the attention being given to this new puppy (understandable) and so my brother's wife Laura was constantly scolding the larger dog.... are you getting the picture?
Big Red would capitalize on every opportunity to harass the puppy.
This intense monitoring of the larger dog's desire to eat or maim the puppy was a full-time affair and (horrors)... somehow in the dream all of a sudden I became in charge of the scenario.
I was left alone with these two dogs. Everyone had gone out and the maintenance of Big Red was my responsibility.

In real life I abhor the needs of dogs. Like they always have to be taken for walks and stuff like that. I much prefer cats. They just sleep, and occasionally vomit.
So, eschewing my duties and seeking verisimilitude even in my dreams, I promptly fell asleep on the couch.
In a sort of semi-wakeful state I could see that Big Red was watching me intently, to see if I had really fallen asleep. He was literally salivating at the possibility of pestering the poor helpless puppy with impunity.
It's hard to describe, but I could see him eyeing me, and yet I myself was sleeping.
Just to be sure I was down for the count before he started in on his shenanigans, Big Red sauntered over to me and commenced bonking me on the nose with his paw.... BONK BONK BONK!
And the weirdest thing is that in my dream the big dog was actually saying "DING DING DING!" as he did this.
The words were coming out of his dog-mouth and I could hear them and the bonking grew so intense that I actually woke up in real life, in my bed, at about 5 a.m. this morning!
The dream was over, but so was my sleep!
I got out of bed and walked around a bit, and then finally settled back in.

About 20 minutes later, still fully awake but in the darkness, I heard a scratching and pecking sound on the ledge of my bedroom window. I'm on the 14th floor and the urban pigeons roost there. I don't know what they do in those wee hours but they do tend to make quite a racket. They hop around and stuff or have pigeon-sex or something. They were just beyond, behind the curtain. My eyes were closed.
Next thing I know I hear a TAP TAP TAP....... TAP TAP TAP.
It's my cat Jack, who has jumped up there and is tapping away at the birds from an open area where the curtains are not quite closed. His claws are clicking away at the glass.
The sound was so similar to what I had been hearing in my dream, this "DING DING DING" and always in triplets like that, that I immediately realized Jack had probably been up there previously [like say, just before 5 a.m.?] and been tapping away exactly as he was now doing.

Dreary-eyed at work today I thought of something interesting though.
The dream I had dreamed ENDED with the tapping, the bonking, the dinging!
It did not BEGIN with it.
Hence, I began to randomly extrapolate and theorize on the significance of that.

If, in fact, Jack's tapping away at the birds on the ledge "inspired" my dream [which I think is quite likely] it follows then that the processes in my sleeping brain actually created a story to FIT that impetus.
Remarkably, a plausible story involving antecedents was invented [perhaps even in a split second, in other words, while the real-world tapping was in progress] when the only thing that had any valid basis for existence was the CONCLUSION of the story.

What I am theorizing here is that if the tapping on the glass was the motive force through which my dream evolved, then it formed itself in retrospect.
Faced with an ending, it sought a beginning.
And I find that, quite frankly, amazing.
I would love to speak with someone like Steven Pinker about this.

Now, having said all of this, the weirdness of my dream may not involve my cat and the sex-pigeons at all.
It may have more to do with the fact that just before I went to bed last night I ate an entire Octomom-Style Family-Size can of Trader Joe's Lentil Soup.
That's gotta do some brain damage, no?

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Splash du Jour: Thursday

With a novelist, like a surgeon, you have to get a feeling that you've fallen into good hands -- someone from whom you can accept the anesthetic with confidence.
-- Saul Bellow --

Have a great Thursday!

[NOT SO] Famous Firsts

Some novelists hit the jackpot with their first publication.
For instance, J.K. Rowling goes off the proverbial charts with Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in 1997.
Other examples could be William Golding's Lord of the Flies (1954), Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye (1970), and F. Scott Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise (1920).
But how many of these overlooked or lesser-known first published novels can you pair with their authors?

Really give it a fair try, as in, WITHOUT CHEATING.
And then post in the comments section how many you got correct.

1) Crome Yellow (1921)
2) Poor Folk (1846)
3) Player Piano (1952)
4) The Voyage Out (1915)
5) Grimus (1975)
6) Jonah's Vine Gourd (1934)
7) The Town and the City (1950)
8) Cup of Gold (1929)

The answers can be found HERE.

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Splash du Jour: Wednesday

Have a great Wednesday!
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Now Ah've Hooditawl!

Hey, coming to you LIVE, from Starbucks!
Well, now I have surely "heard it all" as they say!
Apparently several GPS companies have approached.... no, I can't even say it just yet.
Let me put this blog in neutral for a bit.
OK, the way I understand it, those GPS systems that speak to you in your car, navigating you to your destination -- isn't the whole idea supposed to be clarity?
A LESSENING of the confusion as you drive, so you do not have to consult a map or really even think all that hard about where you are going?
Exactly.
The whole premise behind these wonderful gadgets is to HELP YOU GET SOMEWHERE WHEN YOU DON'T QUITE KNOW THE DIRECTION.
Well, apparently several GPS companies have approached BOB DYLAN to be the new voice-over for their systems.
BOB DYLAN!
Yes.
To me.... isn't this sort of the equivalent of posting signs like the above all over our streets and roads?
Can you even imagine?
You're driving along and then -- "Ohhh... tunnleff'a the.... or mebberight, no. Leffa the...'sa one-way DAMN, no, leff, naw right a'theness' cone-uhh!

Click on the sign!

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Splash du Jour: Tuesday

Have a great Tuesday!
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Splash du Jour: Monday

The most technologically efficient machine that man has ever invented is the book.
-- Northrup Frye --

Have a great Monday!

Our Daemons: A Saturday Poem

Our Daemons
(dedicated to Philip Pullman)

When we fought, they cringed.
We didn’t always notice, we were busy,
otherwise engaged.
Caught in the jaws of our arguments.

But in the corners, and opposite, shivering,
quivering, pupils darting, our essences,
looking this way and that, the best
things about our Eachness, our Dust --

Oh, how I was adept at conjuring
greater sins than the current. And you.
How you glared, causing me to wonder
at the origin of the moisture in your eyes.

-- committed murder or love.

c. Ciprianowords Inc. 2009

The Sawyer Antidote

Sometimes when I am feeling [what is the word]..... angsty?
No.
Unsure? That's not quite right either -- umm, unsettled?
BINGO!
Unsettled-ish!
Sometimes when I feel this way, it is only a "children's book" that can bring me out of the doldrums.
I'm not kidding.
And so, the past few days, as I have read [for the first time, believe it or not] Mark Twain's The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, I feel I have come around to actually NOT wanting to run out into the street and attack a slow-moving bus with my head!
There's just something about it.
Children's books, I mean.
When I read one, I could jump a fence!

I love them. They remind me that taking the adult-world a bit less seriously from time to time is not only OK, but it is downright essential.
Try it.
Are you feeling at all like you've been prematurely buried? Like someone is throwing dirt on the box and you're inside there saying "HEY! I'M FRIGGING ALIVE OVER HERE!"
Try reading The Wind In The Willows or something.
Or any of the [supremely excellent] William Horwood sequels.
Try some of Moley's sloeberry wine.
It will knock you right the hell out of your doldrums, trust me!
It'll learn ya what's what, and what's whatnot.

And then, when you're all better, flick on some terrific Canadian music!



Exit the warrior, today's Tom Sawyer,
he gets high on you.
And the energy you trade,
he gets right on to the friction of the day!
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Splash du Jour: Friday

There was a time in my life when I would not have known a religious quotation from a raccoon.
Then I grew very fond of religious quotations, and thought them profound.
The past decade has found me shaking my head from side to side far more often than nodding up and down. Religious ideas have become, by definition, banal. Vapid. Bromidic.
Why is this?
I feel that the answer involves the fact that I am less willing to stand on that once comfortable platform of Prior Assent.
That place where we convince ourselves it is OK to believe what we are about to hear, because of what we have previously been told.
Today, nowadays, what interests me most is what I haven't heard from anyone.
-- Cipriano --

Have a great Friday!
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Say Something Civil

"What do you even mean by saying that Bookpuddle is 'real boring' lately!
Do you not know that the creator of Bookpuddle is going through
a very stressful time right now?
His H-A 12-Step Recovery Support network [Hamburgers Anonymous]
has pretty much given up on him.
His breast-reduction surgery has backfired. Again!
The poor man is wallowing in Old Milwaukee!
Now go to your room Hubert, and don't you come out of there
until you can say something civil, about this poor,
dear, dear man. This Cipriano of ours."

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Splash du Jour: Thursday

Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does.
-- Huckleberry Finn, to Tom Sawyer --

Have a great Thursday!

Splash du Jour: Wednesday

If I come back as an animal in my next lifetime, I hope it's some kind of parasite, because this is the part where I take it EASY!
-- Jack Handey --

Have a great Wednesday!

Splash du Jour: Tuesday

They thought it was a Doberman Pinscher.
But no.
It was a Doberman POINTER!

Have a great Tuesday!

Splash du Jour: Monday

This is just.... impressive.
I love this clip.
And what I love most is not the catch.... it's that little flip of the cap as she trots back to her Ballgirl station there.
This is priceless footage of the once-and-for-all fact that women are better than men!
Watch that trot!



Have a great Monday!
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So Refreshing...

Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in.
-- Mark Twain, Preface to Tom Sawyer --

Just a bit of an update here on my Reading Exploits.
It is seldom, and I mean an extremely rare occasion for me to bale out on a book.
But I did so, today.
I could not finish William Golding's The Spire.
I'm sorry Mr. Golding. I tried.
I tried to concentrate. But you lost me!
Perhaps I should not say more than that this was a book that did not appeal to me... the more I read it.
I stopped reading at about page 185 of 223.
Think about that for a minute. I could not even endure the last 17% of a novel?
No.
I could not.
Shouldn't that most often be the best portion?
Yes.
Exactly.
I did not care what happened to that damn spire at this point!

Sitting there in the Starbucks, I just happened to have The Adventures of Tom Sawyer in my backpack.
[One must always have a backup plan!]
And wow! I am just LOVING this book!
This kid is just a wild wild hoot! He is ten bags of mischief!
Reminds me of when I was young and similarly demon-possessed.
Digging into Twain [I wonder if he's related to Shania?]..... umm..... digging into this terrific book after where I've been for the past few days, ahhh....
It's like landing a big ol' bass free-casting, after days of fruitless trolling.
It's like tipping back a frosty-glassed [it's gotta be red] Kool-Aid on a hot summer day!
Or better yet, for us older kids.... an Old Milwaukee!

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The Promised Land: A Saturday Poem

The Promised Land

I did not ask for this. Nor did I question
my role as ladder-holder. But I now fear
my eternal destiny.
If Motive be judge, I am safe, and
innocent as yesterday's sparrow, hatched.
But let Desire hold the gavel.
This wizened vulture did not circle twice
before descending in his spiral,
toward that which was above.

For as you climbed the steps, so did I.
And my gaze fell upon that which should
not be seen unless shown.
The land of milk, oh yes, and honey.
My trembling hands upon the rails shook.
And my eyes, longing to weep,
seemed [wickedly] unable to do so.

c. Ciprianowords Inc. 2009

One Man's Junk...

... is another man's treasure!
Hey, with a blog-title like that, I'm probably going to get a few hundred hits here from people that were NOT EXPECTING TO SEE DISCARDED FURNITURE!

When I say, "one man's junk" I'm referring to literal garbage.
But seriously.... what is wrong with people?
They throw out such great stuff.
I have found some of my best stuff in the garbage, in the parking garage downstairs.
Like for instance, my bed sheets. My cat. Many great meals. Stuff like that.
My stall at #74 is wonderfully positioned so that I have to walk right past the huge garbage area to get to the elevators.
Remember when I found that excellent Modigliani?
WELL...... tonight, I'm walking by and here is this perfectly awesome bookshelf.
And not one of these cheap jobbies with the wobbly-assed backside.
No way. It's heavy. Well-constructed, and not a scratch on it. I seriously aggravated my own "junk" hauling this junk into the elevator.
Now!
TO BUY ENOUGH BOOKS TO FILL THIS THING!

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Splash du Jour: Friday

Have a great Friday!
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Splash du Jour: Thursday

The optimist says, "The glass is half full."
The pessimist says, "The glass is half empty."
The rationalist says, "The glass is twice as big as it needs to be."

Have a great Thursday!

The Oldies

I don't know what it is about me and OLD BOOKS lately, but really... I have some kind of strange hankering after the oldies!
Just last evening I finished reading Saul Bellow's (1964) Herzog.
If I wasn't so tired right now from a grueling day at work, a day when I was literally dreaming of Old Milwaukee [and I don't mean the city]... what I'm trying to say is if I wasn't so tired and half-drunk right now, I would write a real essay about this Herzog book.
Seriously, the book was fantastic.
But I couldn't sleep very well last night.
I kept getting out of bed and eating stuff, and I also browsed my bookshelves, checking out all the wonderful unread stuff that lurks in there.
The above picture reveals just one wall of my apartment!
I have a lot of old books. One of my Tolstoy volumes has a publication date of 1885.
You can't have that one. Even after I'm dead.
There's something about that old...... oldness, that I am really enjoying lately, in my reading.

So, last night, while eating a severely late-night casserole, I picked out this little novel by William Golding, The Spire, and started reading it.
So far so good! Quite in"spire"-ing!
[I need sleep. Or another beer maybe....]
All I really know about Golding is that I really loved his debut novel, Lord of The Flies.
As I sat on the poofy chair at Starbucks after work tonight, I noticed that The Spire was also first published in 1964, like Herzog.
Wow, back then I was but a mere lad of one! As in, one year old.
And with Lord of The Flies. I was like MINUS nine-years-old.
I just think it is neat sometimes, reading good stuff like this [Golding also a Nobel-Prizer, like Bellow] to stop and realize that these words have been in print my entire lifetime. Something neat about just now, in my dotage, getting to them.
Having this many books in one's place -- it sometimes feels like living in a Library.
And I like that.

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Splash du Jour: Wednesday

Have a great Wednesday!
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Why I Am Depressed

Well, in Why I Am Depressed news, last night my favorite rock and roll band of all time had a show right here in my city, and I missed it.
While the stage at Scotiabank Place was shaking with the opening rumblings of Runaway Train, I was sitting at a Starbucks reading Saul Bellow.
That's dedication [to fine literature] folks!

Right now as I type this, I am playing one of AC/DC's more mature pieces on my iTunes.
Of course I'm referring to Caught With Your Pants Down.
And just last week my #2 favorite band, Tool, was playing just a couple hours drive from here, in Kingston.
Was I at that show?
NO!
[Cipriano.... don't tell me. You were at Starbucks again?]
GUILTY AS CHARGED!
I guess you could say that for me, AC/DC currently stands for Always Constantly Drinking Coffee!

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Splash du Jour: Tuesday

Every night I have to read a book, so that my mind will stop thinking about things that I stress about.
-- Britney Spears --

Apparently, she likes to read while driving, also!

Have a great Tuesday!

Splash du Jour: Monday

If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country.
-- E.M. Forster --

Have a great Monday!

Whatcha' Readin'?

The above picture is a compilation of what I have been reading, the past few weeks.
Overall, it's been an enjoyable time in the books.
I find [for whatever reason, unknown to me, but I am going to officially blame ABJECT LAZINESS as the culprit].... where was I? Oh yeah.... I find that that lately my desire to "review" and/or otherwise go on and on about what I am reading, has waned.
It has waned.
I'm lazy.
And yet, what is my blog called? Isn't it something like BOOKpuddle?
Supposed to be about books?
And yet, lately, every time Jack hacks up a unique-looking hairball, I find myself thinking, "Wow! I should blog about that!"
PUKEpuddle!

Some of you have probably long ago lost hope in me.
You say to yourself, "This guy does not even read anything! He should call his blog........ RANDOMpuddle!"

But I assure you.
When I'm not working, eating hamburger, sleeping, and...... [other stuff I can't mention here]... I am READING!

Here is my brief review of the above collage:
The Hotel New Hampshire -- Irving. Mmmmm.... delightful. Funny. Crazy. To use the word "typical" when talking about something Irving writes, does not have a negative connotation. [At least for me.] This book is CLASSIC, quirky, eccentric Irvingism! As "God" allows, I shall yet read all of his works. [Irving's, not "God's"].
The Innocent -- McEwan. You either like him, or you hate him. [See some of the blog-responses to my McEwan allusions if you don't believe me]. I choose to like him. And this book was simultaneously suspenseful and weird as hell. Well worth a purchase. Or, if you are cheap like me, a Library rental.
The Cement Garden -- McEwan. Older, and less good than The Innocent, but still pretty good. I may be biased though, after reading things like Atonement, Enduring Love, Saturday, and On Chesil Beach, Ian McEwan could write a novel called "For The Love of God, Do Not Read This" and there'd I'd be...... ass-deep in it!
Breaking The Spell -- Daniel C. Dennett. The author looks like Santa Claus. And [like Santa]... he knows what's what! He does. This thing is not fiction. But it's about fiction! To know what I mean, you must note the subtitle --> Religion As a Natural Phenomenon. Of all these here, I would say it is the most essential read in the photo.

Well, UNTIL you get to that fully erect one there.
That's the one I'm still dealing with.
WOW!
Saul Bellow.

Who peed kryptonite in this guy's Corn Flakes?
The book is called Herzog, and there are not words for me to describe how much you should read this book.
I have become a disciple.
Only have a few pages to go. But I am a convert!

Drop me a line here at Pukepuddle!

Tell me what you are reading. And add a brief thumb's up, or thumb's down.
Or, in lieu of this, at least direct me to a photo of something your cat recently hacked up?
Cheers!

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Due: A Saturday Poem

Due

Wind blew in today, a bad one.
Some said twister.
I was playing snooker at Sing-Loo's.
He sells single cigarettes to all ages, for five cents.
We heard nothing. No ripples in my draft.

Three blocks over, Mrs. Ludder's roof left town.
And the cross on St. Brigid's skewered
Jim Blidwort's Holstein.
Rack 'em up, Eddie.
That cow was due for the abattoir.

c. Ciprianowords Inc. 2009

Where Have I Been?

The past few days have found me shnozz-deep in what I am already concluding to be an amazing book.
Saul Bellow's Herzog.
Published in 1964. I was a few months old then.
You know, you "discover" an author like this, and you just have to wonder where you've been in the interim.
You realize, the world's been spinning.
Clocks have been ticking.
Calendar pages have been flipping, torn aside, replaced entirely, every January.
Niagara Falls has been... falling.
Wallpaper's been peeling.
And I have not read this man, until now?
What the HELLOW is wrong with me?

SAUL BELLOW IS AMAZING!
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Splash du Jour: Friday

What literature can and should do is change the people who teach the people who don't read the books.
-- A. S. Byatt --

Have a great Friday!

Splash du Jour: Thursday

On the one hand, [men] will never experience childbirth. On the other hand, we can open all our own jars.
-- Bruce Willis --

Have a great Thursday!

Career Anxiety

Surely you have 17 minutes?
I would like to share with you this really great videoclip where one of my favorite authors, Alain de Botton discusses the topic of career anxiety.
As most of you will recall I have recently read the excellent book, The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work, and this lecture [filmed just last month at the TED Conference] is a wonderful condensation of so many aspects of Alain's current focus on work, vocation, career, success.
What is it that we are most commonly asked when we meet a new acquaintance?
Isn't is something like "What do you do?"
As in, "for a living?"
For some of us, mentioning what we do for a living may indeed serve to adequately describe our personalities best.
But then there are others, [and I myself am among this latter group], whom you would get to know much quicker, and more accurately, were you to ask me, "What do you love to do when you are not working?"
Give Alain de Botton 17 minutes of your time.
Listen to a wonderfully witty, erudite examination of the topic --> SUCCESS.
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Splash du Jour: Wednesday

I think of novels in architectural terms. You have to enter at the gate, and this gate must be constructed in such a way that the reader has immediate confidence in the strength of the building.
-- Ian McEwan --


Have a great Wednesday!
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Splash du Jour: Tuesday

Ford announced they made a profit of $2.3 billion over the past three months. I think it's because people responded to their new slogan "Ford: We're not General Motors."
-- Jimmy Fallon --

Have a great Tuesday!
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Splash du Jour: Monday

I was in the pub yesterday when I suddenly realized I desperately needed to fart. The music was really, really loud, so I timed my farts with the beat.
After a couple of songs, I started to feel better. I finished my pint and noticed that everybody was staring at me.
Then I suddenly remembered that I was listening to my iPod.
-- Maxine --

Have a great Monday!

Love: A Saturday Poem

Love

Displacing loneliness is not a patented process.
Loneliness-B-Gone, aisle 5 at Wal Mart.
But if it was, that part of the store, inches lower
than "Cosmetics" to the right, would be eroded.
The tread of buyers -- the lineups at the till.

The inventor, somewhere in Tahiti, exploring
possibilities over the cell phone, says Talk to J.F.
about setting up that dedicated check-out line.
Throws a Blackberry into the water, as Gullermo
comes around with another three mojitos.

None of this happens, while it does. Reality
outstripping fiction, just like in a good novel.
There is nothing as remarkable, yea, as marketable
as the constancy -- the presence, the attention,
the is-she-there? Is-she-there? of your --

c. Ciprianowords Inc. 2009