Poetry

pic_poetry
Originally uploaded by alflamont.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
No. For sonnets I hear, are quite gay.

As in fact, is most poetry. I don’t mean “Gay” homosex, I mean “Gay”…well gay. My major issue with poetry is that too often it’s inflicted on the unsuspecting. If you were a teenager and experienced any sort of angst, then no doubt you dabbled in poetry. What of it? Have you reread your deep introspective words? Have you gone back to that mental state and cringed in horror at your pubescent self? Good god! Why must people continue the sophomoric practice of shoving their quatrains down other’s throats? I will admit to some exceptional poetry, masters who manage to paint pictures vividly enough as to inspire, but isn’t most poetry in its essence, absolute ass? Doesn’t adult poetry (Yeah, let’s just dismiss the ranting of children altogether and get to the meat of this) always reek of smugness and literate snobbery? I suppose more than poetry itself, I am opposed to the poet. In a moment of exuberance, we may all commit some rhyme to paper. However, it is the self- centered smug brute, under the guise of depth that erupts his babblings for the rest of us. In the end, reading other people’s poetry is like smelling their farts. You are glad they feel comfortable enough around you to release it, but wish they hadn’t anyway. Please keep it private.

Oh god, please let it be true!

A St. Pat's chat with my Irish pen-pal

Debs says:
what'll i get in for dinner tonite?

Alf says:
Corned beef and Cabbage

Alf says:
Shepherds Pie

Alf says:
A block of lard Covered in beans and "Sauce"

Alf says:
Irish Cuisine...mmmmm

Debs says:
ewwww

Debs says:
im thinking scrambled eggs

Debs says:
not in the mood for cooking

Debs says:
ok im going home

Debs says:
have a fun night

Debs says:
expecting lots of gossip tomorrow

Alf says:
Ok..

Alf says:
Hey!

Alf says:
Happy St. Pat's

Debs says:
haha yeah sure

Debs says:
celebrate it for me

Erin go Bragh!

Well, here we are again. Once more the Feast of Saint Patrick lands on us, and once more I do my bit to balyhoo the patron Saint of Ireland.

Now, many of you have guessed that there is not a scrap of Irish in me, yet I've feted this tiny Holiday to such an extent, that very often I'll receive calls from friends and family, who consider it MY holiday as much as anything else. Add to that, my longstanding support of Irish Republicanism, (Mick Collins Style, not Eamon Devalerra), and i'm sure the puzzlement grows.


Why would I adopt all this nonsense? Why is St. patrick's day and Ireland so important?

Many of you know, I am a bit of an Anglophile. TV, Film, Literature, Government, History, i love it all. Stiff upper lip, tally-ho, pip-pip, old-bean, etc. etc. I am as familiar with many aspects of British culture as I am American, and yet I will forever fault England in its treatment of the Irish.

In the Irish struggle, I have been forced to second guess Blighty, and all that I love about her. For all the civility England has displayed throughout its history, the treatment of the Irish, and in particular the belittlement of Catholics by the English for the last 800 years, serves as a constant reminder to me that even those things that I hold dear must be constantly reexamined. It brings me comfort to stand in solidarity, with my Catholic Brothers and Sisters, and go arm in arm with a people who were for a long time, very brutally oppressed.

I will forever love England, but I cherish the reminder, that even a great, progressive "civil" power, can be corrupt and unfair. In times like these, I think it's a lesson well remembered.


God Save Ireland, and Happy Saint Patrick's day to all!

Ides rather be fishing...

I know it's been almost a month since I posted. My apologies. We can say that Pilot Season has come and gone, and I am still alive and managing to keep afloat.

On this beautiful and sunny day, we all take a moment to cry out our literacy and recall Julius Ceasar, as he was stabbed to death in the Roman Senate, exactly 2050 years ago this very day. And what of it? Who gives a flying fart about some la-de-da Eye-Tai who lived so long ago, and wore a skirt? Well, take a deep breath... do it. I'm serious, just take a big breath, you'll thank me for it.

Look, this post is a lot more meaningful if you play along so humor me and breathe deep.

Didja?

Ok, I'll assume you did. Even if you didn't, as long as you haven't shuffled your mortal coil in the last few minutes, you have shared in Ceasar's final breath.

"Whaaa?" I can hear you all saying with googly eyes, and a slight annoyance, wondering where the deuce i'm going with this.

Here comes the Math:

The average breath contains around 10 to the 22nd molecules of air.

The approximate number of molecules in the atmosphere is about 10 to the 44th

Therefore: The molecules from Caesar's last breath have dispersed evenly through the atmosphere and their number has remained relatively constant.

I can hear the scoffing. Just consider this:

Caesar's breath molecules / Total air molecules

10 to the 22nd / 10 to the 44th

1 in 10 to the 22nd

You are saying,"That's a HUGE NUMBER, and Alf is an ass for drawing us through this for such a small chance that we just shared a breath with Julie C"

Ye of Little faith.

10 to the 22nd * 1/10 to the 22nd = 10 to the 22nd / 10 to the 22nd = 1

In fact, it is highly probable that you get one of Ceasar's final breath molecules in every breath you take.

Aha! What a roundabout and nearly meaningless way to find a connection to Ceasar, right? Well, just consider that with every breath you take, you are in fact, inhalin molecules disperesed by every living person, through history in its entirety, that you are forever joined to all humanity simply by existing and breathing. It suddenly becomes more beautiful huh?

I take great comfort in the thought that I breathe and live my friends, family, heroes, country and planet as i sit here in front of my computer ready for another day at work, and ponder how much it sucked to be Ceasar, on a sunny March 15th, 2050 years ago.