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Some men who are either insecure or haven’t got much of a life obsess and fiddle with their looks and their grooming. But in extreme cases, their grooming obsesses right back. Such is the case with my moustache. It has declared its wish to die by my hand.

I have not shaved it off yet. Time will tell.

suicidal mustache

some facial hair portends a doom

u never learn until u groom. u

inch the scissors toward the mess

could be a trim would suit it best.

it SPEAKS. “why, you condensate flea

don’t TRIM me–SHAVE me. A B C

And DO ME IN.” that plaintive screech

leaves Mary weeping in her niche.

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Yesterday on Central Avenue about a half-dozen enthusiastic young people were holding signs promoting Proposition 127 and solar power, and denouncing State Attorney General Brnovich, who they claim is in the pocket of Big Power, also known as Arizona Public Service, or APS.

APS has been running a scare ad saying that when California enacted a similar law it COST, not SAVED, consumers money on utilities. But Arizona is not California. And the cost is for compliance, which A PS would bear, and they don’t want to. For decades they’ve been gouging their customers, applying for rate hikes as if they were going broke, then using some of their ungodly profits for various investments, some only peripherally linked to providing consumers with safe, affordable electricity. A great deal of their petty cash goes to putting people like Brnovich in office to rubber-stamp their policies. And the number bandied about for what they’ve spent fighting Prop 127 is $29 million.

So the beck with their corporate greed. Go Solar!!

YES 127

YAY to solar. Get ‘er dun! 1

Energy for me and you. 2

Sunshine from Heaven! 7

NO Brnovich

Nix the corporate boob. Nada the darkmoney goober.  Negative the bought Baboon. Never more to this zoo.

Omit from our TV odd toadies who say sí sí, outing palm for Big Electric. O for a corp-creep dispelling Heimlich!

 

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So tempted to use SIKH as the right acrostic bookend, but went for Simple, because me. Perhaps another time. These things–for every one I end up with, I leave a few variants undone. This one is its own variant: it can be either “Find and ye shall seek” or “Find and Yes Hall seek.” I kind of like the notion of Yes Hall.

Find & Ye Shall Seek

Folk are tanned with sunshine’s rays

Inventory then appraise

Needle haystacks lift and poke

Days pass and befuddle folk

PS: This page was inspired by an increasingly panicky search for my mother’s vehicle registration renewal form. I excavated a megapile of paper where it wasn’t, then looked to the left of the card table and saw a corner of it peeking out from where it had no business being. Relief! But a second later I realized I didn’t know where emissions testing was being done lately. Another search must ensue. Find and ye shall seek.

 

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Many of my friends (and otherwise) regard me as a purveyor of bad puns. (Guilty.) But were I to live ten lifetimes,  I would never come up with as many puns, bad or not, as has Piers Anthony, creator of Xanth, which is shaped like Florida but partakes of Earth and many other realities.

I first became aware of this gentleman via The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction in the early 70s, which published his short story “Wood You?” My arrogant teenage self thought the story, about an improbable wood-splitting contest, was stupid, with overflogging of certain joke-concepts and an array of putrid puns.

What I missed was that it was also magnificent, arresting storytelling. After well over 45 years it is the ONLY story in that issue of F&SF that I remember–with the possible exception of Avram Davidson’s “Selectra Six-Ten,” which may have been in that issue as well.

I won’t transcribe the acrostic poem I wrote on this page. It is an array of stupid puns with zero magnificent storytelling. But it, and this post, serve as a memorandom (pun intended) to myself to later do the same decent job on Anthony that I did on Theodore Sturgeon about five years back, including a well-rendered portrait.

Trivia: Mr. Anthony has punned every month of the year. I say Inktober, he says Octogre. Let’s call the whole thing Fun. Rhymes with Pun. What Piers Anthony has taught me is that a play on words can help a person be Playful.

In the film version of JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR Pontius Pilate, played brilliantly by Barry Dennen, fleers to the mob: “Behold the man! Behold your shattered king!” The mob sticks to its guns: “We have no king but Caesar.” Pilate rages: “You hypocrites–you hate us more than him!” The mob doubles down: “We have no king but Caesar. CRUCIFY HIM! CRUCIFY HIM!”

“Ecce” is Latin for Behold. “Voilà” is French for Behold, in a way. And “Looky” is also a loose Behold, though “Looky here” is more common, at least the last time I lookied.

Behold the acrosticizations of variants of Behold.

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Here are the texts of the two acrostic poems:

Be (Ecce) Hold

Battened hatches don’t preclude an interjective Oh

Barleycornish cornucopia may yes a no

Ectoplasmic outbursts of an undeveloped soul

Even as we speak convince some fools that Crap is Gold.

voilà/looky

volunteers camp out in sheol

outlined chalk in Orange day•glo

indicate the urge to stay–o

ladle up that special k

à la carte reveals a way

 

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It is the 18th of October, A.D. 2018, 4 PM Mountain Standard Time. I am just south of Indian School Road on Central, at Yoshi’s, a little fast-ethnic-food restaurant whose slogan is “Have a Rice Day.” I’ve just had their Dragon Bowl in the Beef incarnation, so I am full of spicy roast beef and rice and carrot slivers and onion rims and bell pepper chunks, plus thin-sliced marinated ginger which is one of their offered condiments. I washed it down with Pepsi from the fountain.

Here in the American Southwest, if you say “Omma go get some neat,” you think you said “I am going to get something to eat.” So today my double acrostic pokes fun at my Southwestern accent.

Some Neat

Sí is Yes & No is Nein

One may say I’m hai to dine

Minor Food Gods, hear my plea

Elevate me to a T

Sí is Spanish for Yes, Nein is German for No, and Hai is Japanese for Yes. Hai is meant to be a pun on High as well. To be High is to be elevated with the help of chemistry, or romance, or life’s pleasure.

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My daughter and I are both fans of David Bowie. In this image I have three lines from his classic song “Space Oddity.” They are encased in three roughly circular shapes, which mark the vertices of a roughly equilateral triangle. Such a triangular dot array is mathspeak for “therefore.”

The oddness of this image is contrapuntally offset by the evenness of the two acrostic, with their identical rhyme and meter schemes. There is also an odd sort of evenness in the balance of the image’s composition. I owe an awareness of balance to a certain Professor Scott of the University of Arizona, who used paintings by Daivd (French; roughly pronounced “dah-veed”) and Poussin (French; roughly pronounced “poo-san”) to make his case for balanced compositions.

Odd & Even

Omnibuses never flee

Digits victorize with V

Definitions carve a plane

& a meaning may remain

Even & Odd

Evanescence of the s&

Volitionalized Marlon Brand O

Everlasters never did

Nor heroes in the curtains hid

I leave you, friendly readers, with the happy notion that you may dismiss any confusion you get from the image, or the poetry, or my notes here, with this simple thought: it’s SUPPOSED to be Odd. 🙂

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Last night the Muse whispered “Inktober is nigh.” So I froze a frame from JURASSIC WORLD: FALLEN KINGDOM and sketched Bryce Dallas Howard quickly in pencil, then did a do-over with the ink from a Papermate Flair pen. I’d left plenty of room for minimal acrostic poetry. Two things occur when regarding BDH: Actor, and Woman. With WOMAN as the end word the poem, though minimal, can end with a triplet, if we cheat a little by hotwiring the last line with the indefinite article “A” from the end of the fourth line. The final form of the poem is a couplet and a triplet, in ultra-minimal iambic biameter, including such elements of stage plays as Scrim and House Lights, and such (for me, anyway) Woman-associated words as Silk, Rousing, and Lift. And the total word count, including the acrostic title, is 20.

But is it smooth as a downy forearm? Does it read as easily as the pep talk in HENRY V? Let’s present the words with no line breaks and see how it reads.

Ah, yes, the show can lift you so through silkscreen scrim old houselights dim–a rousing hymn.

My muse holds up her verdict: 9.2. Far from perfect, but great dismount, and it stuck the landing. 🙂

Uh oh. She’s holding up another number for the portraiture: a dismal 6.7. 😦 Thank Goodness this was the prelims, and not Inktober itself!

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Sam Rockwell is an Academy-Award winning actor. Norman Rockwell was an illustrator who championed civil rights, most famously in a portrait of grade-schooler Ruby Bridges being escorted to a sanctioned-by-law non-segregated class by four hefty enforcers from the U. S. government. In contrast to these two gentlemen, George Lincoln Rockwell was the hate-mongering head of the American Nazi Party in the 1960s. On the laptop screen behind my drawing is a scene from the ROOTS saga featuring Marlon Brando as the Nazi Rockwell, who would have fit right in at that infamous rally in Charlottesville.

Here are the words to the quadruple acrostic:

See, some surnames make it rain and snow
And two fellows with a row to hoe
Make Art crafty on a carousel
And for our emotion’s sake excel

I drew Sam Rockwell from a freeze-frame from WOMAN WALKS AHEAD, starring Jessica Chastain and Michael Greyeyes. I drew Norman Rockwell from the canvas-sketch detail of his “Triple Self-Portrait.” I wouldn’t waste a gram of graphite drawing George Lincoln Rockwell, unless it was absolutely essential to do so for an image’s sake. Turns out it wasn’t in this case, so I cheerfully excluded him.

How this blog post came to be may be summed up, though it is one LONG summation, by this Facebook post I wrote on the 28th of June, between the sets of asterisks:

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Spooky coincidences…I just found out via a post by my friend Anthony Ortega, son of my fellow GHS grad and good friend Joy Riner Taylor, that Harlan Ellison has died. Tony said that it was ironic because he’s just been going over Ellison’s work.

Oddly enough, I’d been thinking about Harlan Ellison too. About a week or two ago I looked him up on Wikipedia to see if he were still alive (he was born in 1934).

Spookier still is the last 24 hours. I was thinking with sadness about the suicides of two good friends of mine, one in 1986 and one just this year. And there had been something in the news about suicide being a trending thing. And then the thought popped into my head: “We have got to watch ourselves.” Then the acrostic poet in me realized that the words WATCHING and YOURSELF both have eight letters in it, and I could do a double-acrostic poem about self-preservation using those words. And probably should: it could be much more meaningful than the hooey I usually crank out. (Just kidding, Folks.) (With a little grain of truth.)

Why is this SUCH a spooky coincidence? Well, Harlan Ellison was for the most part the opposite of a suicide–he once demanded open-heart surgery pronto, feeling time was of the essence. The phrase “DO ME” was in his demand to the doc, according to his own account. And they Did Him, and he lasted another 20 years. And in his career he wrote dozens of books. Two, during the Nixon era, were about television. They were THE GLASS TEAT and THE OTHER GLASS TEAT. And there were sequelae of those, of sorts, with a column in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, later put into book form, and later yet extended with a series of YouTube videos. And here the spookiness hits home. My acrostic poem, conceived before I learned of Harlan’s death, will be WATCHING YOURSELF. Harlan’s series was called HARLAN ELLISON’S WATCHING.

****

Since the post I’ve attempted the acrostic three times. Here’s the first try:

We do not tend to put our dirty laundry on display

And when our feelings darken, they may travel incognito

The hope is that the mood will lift if it is left in situ

Concealment is unwise but it so hurts to peel a layer

How desperately vulnerable modern times have made us

In fact the woe and pain make ending it almost attractive

New hope arises when we offer gentle love for all

Gained wisdom comes when mindfulness puts guardrail by the cliff

That was a brainbuster. I almost went with it but felt it missed the mark. On to Try #2:

When purpose yields duality

And makes for an imbroglio

Then Life sneers, Yeah? The Same To You

Canasta, craps, chemin de fer

Hold Doom just like a blunderbuss

If action is evocative

Now we may wax Neandertal

Glyphs mark our bets, no call, no bluff

That try suffered from loss of comprehensibility, straitjacketed as it was by the acrostic. Good try though it was, it was necessary to try, try again.

That led to this final version:

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Here are those final-draft words:

Well, I fear we’re going Ka-Blooey

And if you can argue, please do

This school is called Letspreserve U

Commitment & Shame make a pair

How fell is Depression, whose heirs

Inflict themselves Harm, unaware

Now, please–one more round for us all

Good mindfulness works–let’s be off

One last little spookiness. I went to Goodreads to look at the book jacket for HARLAN ELLISON’S WATCHING. The intro paragraph is Ellison’s style. If he didn’t write it, some damn good pasticher did. Whichever, the last two sentences address friendlessness (first sentence) and self-preservation, which is the theme of this page. Word for word, here they are: “As an essayist, he has no equal; as a film critic he has no friends. Take care.”