Tag Archives: nablopomo2013

Bandwagons, Flotsam / Jetsam

A good & lazy day

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Today I slept until 10. Then I watched the season 4 premiere of “My Little Pony.” It was both tense and exciting.

Other things I did today:

  • Finished “To Say Nothing of the Dog” by Connie Willis. It was like a time-travel Jeeves & Wooster mashup. It was a little slow-going at first, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

  • So I went to the library and picked up three more Connie Willis books (“The Doomsday Book,” “Blackout” and “All Clear.”).

  • We watched the “Doctor Who” 50th anniversary special, and it made me feel so many feelings.

  • Ate a lot of cashew brittle.

  • And now I’m watching the Mizzou game. M-I-Z …
    • Bandwagons

    Looking on the bright side

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    This morning I dropped a full bottle of shampoo on my pinkie toe.

    And then I discovered that the company that makes an integral component of our Top Secret Family Recipe went bankrupt, and the company that bought them no longer makes the integral component. (I may have cried on the phone to the representative of a snack-foods company.)

    And then the delicious pizza I was reheating for lunch burnt to a crisp.

    But at least I live in a world where things like this happen:

    Bandwagons

    A very terrible villanelle

    You’re probably familiar with the villanelle as a poetic form because of Dylan Thomas and “Do not go gentle into that good night,” which besides being a terrific example of the form is a really sad and lovely poem.

    The following, on the other hand, is

    A far cry from Dylan Thomas
    I will not write a villanelle;
    I’d rather curl up with a book.
    But I can’t think of a thing to write.

    November had me under its spell;
    its writing project I undertook.
    But I will not write a villanelle.

    Buzzfeed, Facebook and Jezebel,
    all distractions of which I’ve betook
    when I couldn’t think of a thing to write.

    November continues to compel
    me to churn out this gobbledygook
    but I will not write a villanelle.

    Pretty maids and cockleshells,
    an empty old sketchbook.
    And I can’t think of a thing to write.

    I never said I’d write them well,
    these poetic forms I’ve forsook.
    And I wouldn’t write a villanelle,
    But I can’t think of anything else to write.

    Somewhat related: Whenever I think of Dylan Thomas, I think of Simon and Garfunkel.