It's Been a Long Time

You know you haven't been blogging, when people actually ask, "Why haven't you been blogging?" Sure, it takes about 2-3 weeks before anyone notices, but it's nice to know that they do. Well, it's been 2-3 weeks of nothing. In August and September I blogged non-stop, almost a post every other day. Then October came. I got put on a new work assignment and it's been no more blogging ever since, or rather a post every 10 days. Piss-poor production if you ask me. I couldn't even start a legitimate blog war to keep me motivated to maintain my blogging presence during this excessive work spell. Oh Blog War, why fore hath thou beseeched me? Would that even make sense in Shakespeare's time? Doubtful.

Sure, I've been busy, a lot of us have been, but that's not the only reason for the scaled back productivity. I found another outlet. No, it doesn't involve glow sticks or animal sacrifices. I've been writing...wait for it...poetry.

This is the moment when you laugh at me, if you haven't already, but hear me out. I'm not just writing any ol' poetry. This isn't some Longfellow (see above) or Walt Whitman junk. This is hard-boiled, matter of fact, Charles Bukowski meets a nihilist with a conscience meets Jonathan Ames meets Shane Black (screenwriter of Lethal Weapon, The Long Kiss Goodnight, The Last Boyscout, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, etc.) meets Marcus Aurelius (not really) meets Jeff Goldblum ("No one could have predicted Dr. Grant would suddenly jump out of a moving vehicle....See? Here I am now, by myself, talking to myself--that's Chaos Theory!" and yes I just Googled: screenplay Jurassic Park and found the entire script in less then the time it takes me to say "Say hi to your mutha for me!") meets...you get the point. This isn't your grandmother's poetry. This isn't your United States Congressman's poetry. This is your poetry. The poetry of the streets.

If life had a soundtrack and that soundtrack had a favorite book of poetry, then this might be that favorite book, or top 25.

I figured, why not post some, since I've been working on it so diligently this past month. If you like it, cool. If you don't, cool. It's like Jeff Goldblum said in Jurassic Park: "I'm simply saying that life--finds a way."

I call this first one, Laundromat:

Dropoff Service: 50 cents/lb.
That's what the sign
says at
my laundromat
I dropped off a couple bags
about 18 lbs.
The chart behind the counter said,
18 lbs. = $13.20
Umm.
That's not
50 cents/lb.

I call this one, Guy on the Subway:

It's packed in here
riders squished from hoof to handlebar
the more people get off
the more get on.
I'm pushed up against someone
trying to keep my book
open
with one hand. Not succeeding.
The douchebag in the brownish-gray pinstripe
suit with matching light
blue shirt with brown stripes is
wearing sunglasses
as if he's
not
riding
underground. He leans against the doors.
Not reading a thing.

And this one I call, IHOP:

The guy at the table next to me was
apparently
punched
in the face.
The purple-red, broken, blood vessel ring
skimming his right eye like a half moon
could be
from nothing else.
He's eating an omelette filled
with steak, covered in cheese served with a side
of corned beef hash.
The whole time I'm wondering,
who hit him? over what? should I
hit him?
The girl he's with is also eating
an omelette.
I'm having pancakes.

That's it for now. Welcome to Sunnyside Lowdown, where poetry happens!

Jared