Day 139

Today's words:

Passion
Oil
Farm
Cube
Salary
Estate

Farming's my passion
But if I hadn't struck oil
I probably couldn't have afforded to keep the farm.
Still, it's better than being some mindless cube
Servant, even though there's no fixed salary,
And I have no idea if I'll be able to leave an estate.

I guess I should do some estate
Planning, even though I've no passion
For those sorts of things. I don't have a salary
And who knows how much longer the oil
Reserves will hold out.  I might have to get a job in a cube
Farm.

Down here on the farm,
Or, as my brother calls it, "the estate,"
The only cube
You'll see is a bale of hay. We do have passion
Flowers, though, and they're lovely.  Just glad I've got the oil
Reserves so I don't have to scrounge after a salary.

Working for a salary
Instead of running this farm
Seems like slavery to me. Striking oil
Has allowed me to establish an estate
And to follow my passion
And not be imprisoned in a cube.

Sitting back, I drop a cube
Of sugar in my tea. I don't miss a salary
Because this is my passion,
This farm,
And the estate
I have due to that oil.

I'm not thrilled about all the pollution generated by oil
But without it I'd be working in a cube
All day, slaving for someone else's estate
While he paid me a meager salary.
Nope, this farm
Is my passion.

The oil revenues are much more than any salary
I could earn on a cube farm.
Here on the estate I follow my passion.

Day 138

Today's words:

Cheat
Briefcase
USA
Curl
Scream
Toothbrush

Finally watching Homeland on Netflix. Don't want to cheat,
But it's a bore.  This woman walks around with a laptop in her briefcase,
And she works for the CIA or something, fighting terror for the USA.
But mostly we just see her curl
Up in a ball, or scream.
We also see her use her toothbrush

A lot.  It's an electric toothbrush.
Good to know she doesn't cheat
On brushing her teeth.  She does scream
A lot, though.  Don't know what else is in her briefcase.
Once I saw her try to curl
Her hair, because I guess that's important in the USA.

There are other people who work with her for the USA,
But we don't ever see them use a toothbrush
Or curl their hair
(They're mostly men). Some of them try to cheat
The government. Everyone's got a briefcase
But she's the only one who get to scream

So much. I guess having her scream
All the time is supposed to show us how much she loves the USA.
Whatever.  And that laptop in her briefcase
Looks like some armored indestructible version, like her toothbrush.
And then she'll defy her bosses and cheat
And then curl up in a ball.

Sometimes she'll curl
Up and scream
When she's really been a cheat.
But of course she's doing all this for the USA
Because terrorists will take away our toothbrush
Privileges.  She'll slip the laptop back in the briefcase

And walk away. If she ever lost her briefcase
I'm sure she'd curl
Up around her toothbrush
And scream
Because the USA
Could fall into the hands of another cheat.

And that's pretty much the plot summary: briefcase, scream,
Curl up, bless the USA,
Use the toothbrush, cheat.

Day 137

Today's words:

Dinner
Indian
Joke
Lap
Passion
Immigrant

Another blind date - this time dinner
At an Indian
Restaurant. Fine by me - I like the food.  The guy, however, is a joke.
Definitely not my type. I stare at my lap
To keep from having to look at him. I'd like to feel some passion
One day. "So are you an immigrant?"

He asks. An immigrant?
Really? I want to leave this dinner
Now, but I control my passion
And stay. "Well, unless you're an 'American Indian'
"In this country we all are," I say into my lap.
How much longer will this joke

Go on? This joke
That isn't even funny. "Oh, I get it, so I'm an immigrant
"Too," he chuckles. He's dropped food into his lap.
 I have no appetite for the rest of my dinner,
But am thinking about dessert. Some Indian
Restaurants I've been to have passion

Fruit sorbet. "Oh, so you like PASSION
Fruit," he makes a joke
Of it. No, to him I'm just another Indian
Immigrant
Lucky to be out to dinner
With a successful creature like him, with food in his lap.

"Come here," he pats his lap,
"I can show you some passion."
I think I'm about to lose my dinner.
Now that would be a great punch line to this joke.
"The immigrant
"Barfed all over me in the Indian

"Restaurant. But she's Indian - 
"I thought she'd like the food. Instead she puked in my lap.
"Shows you can't trust an immigrant.
"I'll never understand their passion.
"They sure can't take a joke.
"That's the last time I take one out to dinner."

The next night I went alone to the Indian restaurant and had a passion
Fruit sorbet. I didn't need to stare into my lap, or laugh at a bad joke.
Yes, the immigrant finally had a decent dinner.

Day 136

Today's words:

Basin
News
Shout
Whisky
Evening
Cancer

He cleared his throat loudly and spat into the basin.
"Tell me some real news!
"Something to make me shout!
"Or else get me a whisky!
"The evening
"Is young and I could be dying of cancer

"For all I know." But he wasn't dying of cancer,
Despite the spit in the basin,
And as the evening
Wore on, he turned to the news
On TV, quietly sipping his whisky,
Pausing only occasionally to shout

At the TV.  He'd shout
At anything that annoyed him, or made him think of cancer.
That was his great fear - that and running out of whisky.
He kept the basin
Close by in case he needed to spit, and watched the news
At the end of the evening.

This evening
I'm going to be still.  I won't shout,
Whatever the news,
Even if it's about cancer,
And I'll leave the basin
Alone as I sip my whisky.

"Whisky
Can certainly help ease an evening,"
He said, and then spat again into the basin.
"And I know you'd give out a shout
"If you knew I had cancer,
"Wouldn't you? Wouldn't that be news?"

"News
"To me," I said. "Now give me some of that whisky.
"We're cancer-
"Free for the moment, so let's enjoy the evening.
"I'll give out a shout
"And you dump out the basin

"On the floor in front of the news on the TV. This evening
"We'll only drink whisky, and we'll shout
"Whenever we feel like it. Just keep the cancer in that basin."

Day 135

Today's words:

Fault
Tomb
Law
Entrance
Concrete
Seasick

So whose fault
Is it if we all wind up in the tomb?
What law
Says we need to seal up the entrance
With concrete?
The whole thing makes me nauseated, like I'm seasick,

Quite frankly.  And like being seasick
It takes a while for the nausea to dissipate.  It's like a fault
In concrete
Just waiting to break apart. Roll back the stone from the tomb
And free up the entrance.
It's not against the law

To do something different. I've studied law
Until I felt seasick,
But still needed to take those entrance
Exams.  If I didn't get into school it would be my own fault.
The library felt like a tomb
And I was encased in concrete.

But to give a concrete
Example is key in any law
Case, so I'd leave my tomb,
Feeling seasick
From studying, and try to find fault
With those for whom making a grand entrance

Was key.  But their entrance
Didn't harm anyone, and nothing was set in concrete.
It wasn't their fault
If they didn't study law
Like I did; they enjoyed life and got seasick
From actually going to sea, as opposed to living in a tomb.

And in my tomb
I barricaded the entrance,
Keeping out all others, while feeling seasick
At the thought of social interaction. Real life was too concrete
For me; I preferred to stay inside with my law
Books. That's my fault.

I missed a lot and we all end up in the tomb. That's the concrete
Reality of the situation. Yes I made my entrance into law
School, feeling seasick all the while, and now I know it was all my fault.

Day 134 - le jour de gloire est arrivé

Today's words:

Skylight
Prize
Fuse
Cemetery
Graduate
Wine

The moon streamed through the skylight,
Illuminating the prize,
Which would fuse
With the winner. But like whistling past the cemetery,
I was more focused on my desire to graduate
From beer to wine.

For wine
Illuminates everything, even the moon through the skylight.
When I graduate
I hope to win a prize
And not wind up in the cemetery
Like a penny in a fuse

Box. That trick never works. I refuse
To stop drinking wine
Even though it may speed my trip to the cemetery.
I'll still look up through the skylight
As I watch you bestow the prize
On some other graduate.

Yes, I'm a graduate
Of the school of hard knocks. And if I blew a fuse
Over this ridiculous prize,
It's only because you wouldn't let me have my wine.
There's a skylight
In the mausoleum down at the cemetery.

In that mausoleum at the cemetery
The graduate
Peers up through the skylight
Trying to fuse
His thoughts and deeds, while drinking wine
And thinking about the prize.

The prize
Was awarded at the cemetery.
Wine
Was served and the graduate
Was able to fuse
His two sides. The moon streams through the skylight

Illuminating the prize as the graduate
Stands in the cemetery. We refuse
To congratulate him as we sip our wine under the skylight.

Day 133

Today's words:

Spirit
Fare
Sneeze
Amplifier
Swing
Ladder

"What's your spirit
Animal?" she asked, casually jumping the turnstile to beat the fare.
I let out a sneeze.
"I dunno, a wolf?" A guy on the platform was fiddling with his amplifier,
Before taking a swing
At his guitar. A junkie perched on a ladder,

Observing the scene.  He slid down off the ladder
And approached the guitarist with some spirit
(For a junkie). He tried to take a swing
At the guitarist, but knocked into a "Pay Your Fare"
Poster to the side of the amplifier.
And then he let out an enormous sneeze.

But it wasn't a sneeze;
He puked instead and returned to his ladder.
Meanwhile, the amplifier
Seemed possessed by a spirit,
Spitting out all kinds of feedback. "Pay Your Fare,"
The guitarist sang, "Or you'll swing

"From the scaffold." I went to a particular swing
Club in Paris. Les Chandelles. Don't sneeze
Or you might miss it. One fare
On the Metro. Climb the ladder
Down to the dungeon. Show some spirit,
But not too close to the amplifier.

Because who needs an amplifier
At a swing
Club?  That's the spirit!
They say a woman's orgasm is like a sneeze -
Sometimes you get there and sometimes not. Like a ladder
To a goal. Now pay your fare

And get in line. Only those who've paid their fare
Will get next to the amplifier.
I'll climb the ladder
To the magic swing
And work on my sneeze,
If you know what I mean.  In spirit,

I'm still beating the fare, even though I swing
Both ways now, with the amplifier broadcasting my sneeze,
As I climb the ladder to the spirit.