paper bee

the brother returns home

Dennis is coming home Friday for a few weeks before he heads off to Sedona to get hitched! I've been trying to clean his room for him, but unfortunately, all the detritus of my life has overflowed into his room, so I'm afraid he's gonna have to be living amongst all of my excess clothes/paintings/books/broken lamps, etc.

"You know, time and space are essentially the same thing. So with Daylight Savings Time, do we save space as well? Because my closet is really crowded." — Dennis, circa 2006

I can't wait.

scrabble, anyone?

Lately I've been having a lot of fun with Scrabble. As in, I pick some of my favorite lines from poems, songs, whatever, and try to Scrabble-ify them. Some are impossible to do, but I totally nailed one earlier tonight:

It's hard to see, but it says "writhe and bear the fruit of screaming," and it's from Frank O'Hara's "For Grace, After a Party," which is one of my favorites:

You do not always know what I am feeling.
Last night in the warm spring air while I was
blazing my tirade against someone who doesn't
interest
me, it was love for you that set me
afire,
and isn't it odd? for in rooms full of
strangers my most tender feelings
writhe and
bear the fruit of screaming. Put out your hand,
isn't there
an ashtray, suddenly, there? beside
the bed? And someone you love enters the room
and says wouldn't
you like the eggs a little

different today?
And when they arrive they are
just plain scrambled eggs and the warm weather
is holding.

I'm easily entertained (obviously). I suppose I should be focusing on writing my own poetry instead of Scrabbling other people's poetry. Eh, blargh. Oh, and I found the bridge from my very very first fiddle, which was no longer than a longish knitting needle, and which I grew out of when I was 8 years old. It was in the Scrabble box. Weird. The GDAE I penciled on it to help me remember is still visible. I'm going to make a necklace out of it. Like I said before, easily entertained.