Saturday, December 10, 2016

The Beehive - Poem: The Boy from Duluth AND Omelet

What we're listening to - Beastie Boys - You've Gotta Fight For Your Right to Party.

Image result for beastie boys     Went to bed last night at 4 am since I was polishing some stories and poems to submit.

I certainly did not feel like writing my story for The Hive, but, Plantation Tea in cup, walk upstairs to write.

Where to start? I wanted to have a conversation between two women taking place at a few different coffee shops.

After about three minutes, I knew where to start. "You're late," she said. "Damn geese," I said. "Walking in the middle of the road."

That was it. I had my two characters - Louisa and Angie.

90 minutes later I was finished. Luckily on one of my breaks I'd made my lunch - a packet of salmon laced with chopped onions, raisins (which were sitting on the table,) and mayo and mustard.

Will read the comments on GIRLFRIENDS after I go up to my Reading Bed after bloggin.

Rem brought me two magazines he subscribes to. He's a very good critic.

Martha bought this pancho at her fave thrift shop. She brought two poems.

Hey! Would you mind if I shut off the Beastie Boys? Sounds like sandblasting.

Rem read the last chapter of his book Today's the Day. Many good amusing lines. It ended with an ellipsis...

"I'm not ready for the book to end like dat," I said.

"Remember, it's a dream," he said.

Good lines included "unplugging the vacuum cleaner" in the last chapter, which meant to me Rem's unplugging his computer from writing the story.

The Hive all railed against Trump's cabinet picks.

Rem lent me
 The Atlantic and The Nation.

The Nation's cover screamed How to Fight Back and was made of paper, not a glossy cover.

For godssakes we can't fight back! He won the election and you can't go back in time, like the Stephen King book which tried to undo JFK's assassination.
Rem lent me this collection of film noir. Am guessing I watched 80 percent of em on YT.

Yoo hoo! Linda where are you?

Imagine this is a good photo of Linda.

She expanded on her story about The Webb Family. Mom Caroline is jealous of daughter Arachne. Mom's husband Biff has bought Arachne numerous gifts. Arachne however is gonna leave home.

Lots of violence between the two of them.

Martha's sciatica is all better. She did exercises she found online and showed us one of em - on your back, knees to chest, knees to chest. I also did that when I had sciatica. Now I only have excrucating hip pain when I first wake up. Do my exercises and within an hour feel 80 percent better.

Forgive me for writing one of the most boring blog posts ever. Boring, to me, is a cardinal sin.

Image result for angelo italian restaurant southampton pa   Scott and I met his family at Angelo's in Southampton, PA.  Shockingly we got there first and sat at the reserved table in the middle, where everybody had to squeeze around us.


Quick note: take a look at the above word - awkward. What an awkward looking word. That statement was worth boring you for the past five minutes.

Rob, dyou still read this? Give me a hint. Turn into a bird and tap on my window. I'm waiting. Rob!

So, I sat down at table. People were bumping into me. I moved. And ordered hot coffee.

Really good. Three cups. Thank you Pietra, blond-haired wife of the owner. They're from Sicily which is near Africa. Her family still lives there and she and Andre own a house there.

Visions of visiting.

Image result for small house in sicily

Image result for bottle of wine

From B's house I brought home two candy bars her Argentinian family sent her. She told me they were less sweet than American candy bars.

Here's the full array at her house.

I tackled the TITA when I got home.

Lemon-flavored biscuit. Marvelous! Very fresh. Crunchy. I'll tell her on FB. Only 18 grams of carb.

I do not know what to do with Rhodesia. See, how good I am at avoiding sweets? Sometimes.


He did what he wanted
the boy from Duluth
a melting pot in the
heart of the country
them with their wide vowels
and quarts of hospitality.

His hero Woody Guthrie
was dancing to death in
a nursing home up in Brooklyn
Bob, with the heart of the
heartland, visited
and stayed.

Religions, he had a few.
He was a man whose
mind roamed free,
free as the mustangs
riding wild on the Plains.

Ever seen the man's eyes?
Blue as the sky,
which loves him
as the original
he is. Call him
Adam. Anansi. Arjuna.

Call him to Sweden
to visit the king.
He laughs as he scribbles
new lyrics in bed, then
scratches an itch
with his long toenails.

Thank you kindly, he thinks. Thank you.

We never know when "beshert"
will sweep us under her wings.

Oh, have it your way,
eat your omelet with
a spoon. The day is
bright, I've already
been to the compost
heap. No one's touched
Scott's brown rice
grown stout with
boll weevils.

Of course we'd eat it
were we starving like
our comrades across
the sea. Ever wonder
what rabbit stew
would taste like?

Not to worry. The bushy
tailed Mr Fox feeds them
to his kith and kin in
the middle of the night.

Turn on the radio when
you hear Brer Rabbit howl!

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