Chaos Theory #3

Twain got it right...

Twain got it right…

My cat is the love of my life and the biggest PITA I know. I can’t get him to stop tearing up the furniture despite having every type of catpost that Man has ever built. In a couple of weeks I am getting new furniture… again.

You may say a cat uses good grammar. Well, a cat does — but you let a cat get excited once; you let a cat get to pulling fur with another cat on a shed nights, and you’ll hear grammar that will give you the lockjaw. Ignorant people think it’s the noise which fighting cats make that is so aggravating, but it ain’t so; it’s the sickening grammar they use.
– Mark Twain: A Tramp Abroad

Wine isn’t a simple thing.  The complexities of the grape itself draw me in while the emotions and the sure physical reaction hold me. I’ll drink wine with hamburgers but I feel wine with my soul.

Pungent ripeness provoking
lips to quiver in anticipation of that first sip.
Sumptuous flavor, velvet like a lover’s touch;
sliding over the tongue, down
the back of the throat.

The fiery trail of the vine wends
its way through the body; rousing
images of flesh wrapped around flesh,
dreamers slaking their thirst from
an over-flowing font. Fingers delve
in reaching for the source; quivering
ripples begin to expand outward.

I reach for fulfillment, eager for the
culmination the last drink will bring
only to be flung back to reality;
trembling hands grasping an
empty bottle.

Epicurean Fantasy, Poetry the Write Way ©2000

There is far too much going on in my brain at the moment. I can’t get a lock on which path to go running down. Sometimes I think it would be easier dealing with the blankness of writer’s block 320px-Kilroyagain.

“The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life…. This is the artist’s way of scribbling ‘Kilroy was here’ on the wall of the final and irrevocable oblivion through which he must someday pass.” —William Faulkner, interview with Paris Review, 1956

I use to ride dirtbikes when I was young. The crazy things we do when we’re kids! There are times that I am pretty sure I was wilder than the other young people I knew even though I hid it well.

“Lizards?” he said. “If you think we’re in trouble now, wait till you see what’s happening in the elevators.” He took off his Brazilian sunglasses and I could see he’d been crying. “I just went upstairs to see this man Lacerda,” he said. “I told him we knew what he was up to. He says he’s a photographer, but when I mentioned Savage Henry — well, that did it; he freaked. I could see it in his eyes. He knows we’re onto him.”

“Does he understand we have magnums?” I said.

“No. But I told him we had a Vincent Black Shadow. That scared the piss out of him.”

-Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, ©1971


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