The Thirteenth Warrior

It made Omar Sharif quit acting for a while. The public didn't spend their money on it. Panned by Roger Ebert, belittled by Rotten Tomatoes, regretted by Michael Crichton, this is still one of my favorite movies.

In the late nineties and early 2000's, there was a rash of books and movies about Beowulf. At least that's when I read and saw some of them. The ones I liked best were John Gardner's Grendel, and this Michael Crichton-spawned movie. The worst one was a "sci-fi" take.

I wasn't surprised that "The Thirteenth Warrior" was not popular. Whatever prompted studios to make such films is what was surprising. I wonder what percentage of the population would admit to having read Beowulf. "I had to read it in college." I had to read a lot of things in college, and some of them I hardly even cracked a book on. Paradise Lost, for example. All you have to do is listen to lectures and take notes, and read what you like. I liked Beowulf, and Vladimir Kulich as  Buliwyf was a work of art.

I am not hidebound.

Today I ate a soft-boiled egg. With a spoon.  Aargh, what was I thinking?!

Flash Once More

Yesterday I read Flashman, the first of the novels in this series, and it was worse than the second one (Royal Flash) which I had read before.

Harry Flashman is a spin-off character from Tom Brown's Schooldays by Thomas Hughes. It's very hard to find anything to like about him. In fact, it's impossible. He started out bad, and he gets worse. The books refer to actual historical events, and are so honest and politically incorrect, I'm surprised there's not a periodic Flashman-book-burning. If more of the "right" people discovered them, this would probably happen.

George MacDonald Fraser, Flashman's author, wrote:

"My forebears from the Highlands of Scotland were a fairly primitive, treacherous, blood-thirsty bunch and, as Robert Louis Stevenson once wrote, would have been none the worse for washing. Fine, let them be so depicted, if any film maker feels like it; better that than insulting, inaccurate drivel like Braveheart."

(Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-506219/The-testament-Flashmans-creator-How-Britain-destroyed-itself.html#ixzz3B2eHFTlD
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One wonders if he had in mind the incident of "courtiers" chopping Mary Queen of Scots' secretary to pieces in front of her. Mr. Fraser died in 2008, a reminder that so many remarkable things took place in the past while I was muddling around unaware. If I could write like that man, I'd be rich as old Jay Gould. Or someone would have shot me earlier.

"Travelers must be content."

This is a photo we took of horses in the New Forest. Sorry camera, right? I enjoyed being in England, but now and then, I couldn't help recalling Touchstone's complaint in As You Like It:

"Ay, now I am in Arden, the more fool I.

When I was at home, I was in a better place,

But travelers must be content."

***

I was so glad to see Jed this weekend. I miss him when he's not here. Saturday evening we went over to Susan's and watched two very good movies on her big TV: Kevin Spacey and Gabriel Byrne in "The Usual Suspects," and "The House of the Spirits." Then Saturday Pat joined us for lunch at the good old Cracker Barrel, where I chowed down on chicken and dumplings and a whole bunch of vegetables. Reading the dessert menu, I almost succumbed to "baked apple dumpling," but really couldn't hold another bite. I said the next time I come to Cracker Barrel, I'm going to eat dessert first.

***

Last night I watched a movie about Peter and Paul. The role of Nero was played by a young Julian Fellowes! I Googled it, and sure enough, it was the creator of "Downton Abbey."

Horrible Books

Yesterday I received two more "Flash" books from Jed, with a note: "Mom, these are horrible books." I agree, but I can't wait to get into the first book in the series. I cropped the picture to cut out some of the horror. I don't know why it won't copy right-side-up. Somehow, these books remotely remind me of "Black Adder." R. Atkinson would make a perfect Flashman.

The sky was clear last night, and I did see a few Perseid meteors. Four, to be exact, in about 20 minutes of bending over backwards. I thought the osteoporotic concavity of my back had changed into a convexity, but it's okay this morning.

Maybe I meant the "convexity" had changed to a "concavity." I guess it depends on whether you were standing in front of me or behind me.

Yesterday, someone down the street put a piano on the curb. It's sort of rickety-looking, but Ramey went down there and asked about it and the man said it would play. We worried about it, but didn't know what to do.

I really do need to get a job. This lifestyle is reaching the point of ridiculous. For instance, this morning I got up about 7:00, emptied the dishwasher, drank a Coke, and went back to bed and slept till 2 p.m. And it's only Wednesday.

What have I accomplished in 15 years of "free time" in retirement? I've published little chapbooks for me and Ramey, and a longer book of my poems. Written a lot of poems, but not as good as the ones I wrote when I was working and "didn't have time." Wrote another novel (#3) and figuratively put it in a drawer. Realized my life-long ambition to own a piano--this gives me a lot of satisfaction, although I can't play it.

I haven't become any better housekeeper than I ever was. I made one quilt, a wall-hanging that Susan had machine-quilted for me. Went to a couple of Oxford-Shakespeare conferences in Atlanta and DC. I've got a loose-leaf binder at least 3 inches thick, full of research notes for a book about Shakespeare, most of which I did before I retired.

Maybe they'd let me be a door-greeter at Walmart.

This morning I dreamed about beautiful Jenny, standing up in the saddle, trick-riding horses.

This morning I proofread the manuscript and added the Acknowledgments. I sent a copy to Jed before I proofread it, so he will get a few typos and such.

Now I've got to find something to eat, and then wash all my dirty clothes. Life gets tedious, but it's worth it.

Rain

(clip art)

Well, Patsy did a little rain dance yesterday, and we had a lovely shower. Brief, but refreshing. Of course, it started just as I stepped out the door to go to the store, and ended as soon as I was home and back in the house (wet).

 

On Project Runway this season, there's a female fashion designer who lives in Birmingham, Alabama, and the judges have just about adopted her. She has already won two out of three challenges. The first one was a pink print dress with unhemmed skirt and sleeves, and the second one was a pink knit shift hung about with slinkies made of shiny paper. Tim Gunn looks like he wishes he were somewhere else.

If it's Wednesday, I'm hungry.

My lunch is warming in the oven. Yesterday I made Sister Susan's cheesy-chicken-pasta casserole, and managed to save enough of it for lunch today. Of course, I reduced the recipe at least by half. Good eatin'. Thanks, Suze.

This afternoon I'm going to finish the manuscript for submission to Neg. Cap., if it takes all night.

(P.S. - I did finish it, all except for the table of contents and acknowledgments.)

New Book in the Mail

In today's mail I received a copy of the Georgia Poetry Society's 2014 Anthology. (I wish our ASPS Sampler could be this nice.) Couldn't figure why I got it, because it doesn't have a poem by me in it. But found that it has the three winning poems in the contest that I judged this spring, "The Mnemosyne Award," plus a biographical blurb of me. These are three of the most beautiful previously unpublished poems I've seen in a long time. Wish I could copy them in my blog, but I don't know if that's permitted or not.

The first place one is by a gentleman determined to keep on writing, no matter what happens.

The second place poem is like a fairy thing out of A Midsummer Night's Dream.

The third place winner is probably my favorite, though not as technically impressive as the first two. It's by a lady promising to give her companion any three extravagant things he wants in exchange for two tiny paintings and a Nevada sunset.

*

I've been thinking of a book consisting of selections from my blog. Like "Seven Years of Something-or-Other." The publishing concern "She Writes" is sponsoring a contest for a book of memoirs. I wonder if blog posts could be called memoirs.

Grandmother Goose

I think I've got all my crazy poems together and sort of adjusted for the book to submit to Negative Capability Press. The title will include "Grandmother Goose" in some way.

I was thinking the manuscript had to be 75-100 pages long. But checking the website, I see it's 50-125 pages. So that gives me more room, or less, whichever I decide. The site said the winner will be given an opportunity for revision before publication, so I'm thinking just throw them all in there, including some Alabama Limericks and "The Rime of the Absent-Minded Manager." Maybe some of them will hit the target.

*

My cupboard is 9/10 bare, so I have to go to the store sometime today. Or just keep on eating cereal and one-day expired milk.

*

The grass is turning brown, and leaves are falling like snow from the water-oaks. I need to get my weird sisters to do a rain dance.

Sing-Along

This is what I gave Pat for her birthday. She admired them once, so I thought she ought to have them.

* * * * * * *

At the poetry meeting Monday night, after I sang an introductory couple of stanzas, some members of the group joined in singing "No Jam Today," and everyone sang the final chorus.

* * * * * * *

The soul selects her own society,
Then shuts the door;
On her divine majority
Obtrude no more.

Unmoved, she hears the carriage pausing
By her low gate;
Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling
Upon her mat.

I've known her from an ample nation
Choose one,
Then close the valves of her attention
Like stone.

-- Emily Dickinson

Tracy-Hepburn Movies

Yesterday I watched "The Seventh Cross" on TCM. Spencer Tracy was, as usual, almost paralytic. But it was a pretty good movie, largely because Hepburn wasn't in it.

I couldn't get to sleep for most of the night, but when I finally did, I slept (and dreamed crazy dreams) until India called me a few minutes ago to remind me of Pat's birthday, which I had forgot for the first time in my life, probably. But now I'm up and running.

*****

Pat's birthday cake was prettier than this, but I forgot to take my camera. We had a lovely time at her b.d. celebration.

One day this week, Pat took half-a-dozen copies of my poetry book to the library to make a little sale display of it. She said if anybody bought a copy, they would put the payment in a little drawer for me to pick up later.

WDG grocery occupied only half of the old Food World building, but now Ace Hardware has filled the other side of the building.

This morning I dreamed I received a notice that Ace Hardware had received a package addressed to me, but the store was located in Pell City. Major anxiety, because I didn't know if whatever old car I had would make it to Pell City. But Jed (about age 8) and I set out, and when we got there Jed lay down on a couch in the lobby while I went to collect the package. A saleswoman showed me a small mailbox-size cabinet in a wall and said that was where they put packages they received. I opened the cabinet, and found it was really a small box full of sawdust, but feeling around, I pulled out a crumpled up package that had been crammed in under the sawdust, and it was some copies of my book. Then when we left the store, my car had disappeared.

Popeye, the Sailor Man

One of the sad things about getting old is the inability to get rid of all the old tunes in your head.

"I eats all my spinnish,
I fights till I finish..."

The Nick of Time

January and July are close months for me financially, because GEICO takes half of my annual car insurance out of my bank account. This month I had to pay to get the piano moved, and some other crises which I don't remember, and then yesterday the thermostat stuck. A guy came and replaced it; the new thermostat was still under the parts warranty, but the service call plus providing for future service calls ran over a hundred-fifty. So I was biting a fingernail, wondering how to live on $15.16 until the end of the month. But this morning I checked my bank account online, and--incredibly!--my SS check arrived a week early!

*

 

 

A while ago, I noticed out the kitchen window a cloud formation that looked like a chimney with smoke spiraling out of it. Of course by the time I got back with the camera, it had changed into a duck.

No Jam Today

In an email message from Joan, she suggests that we write a song for the next poetry reading. I probably won't write a new one, but I could take (and sing) "This Old Fox" or "No Jam Today."

No Jam Today: A Holiday With Moose the Cat
[Examples of jam: 1. Traffic jam. 2. Writer's block. 3. Extreme difficulty. 4. Impossible people.]
[Melody: "Genevieve, Sweet Genevieve"]

O Moose, I say!                                                  

Oh, frabjous day!
Come out and play–
No jam today!
Tomorrow jam,
And yesterday,
But now I say,
No jam today!

Oh, listen, Moose,

To what I say:
We’re on the loose–
No jam today!
No gum, no glue,
No sticky goo,
No ham, no spam–
No jam today!

Once in a way,

Some jam’s okay,
But when we have
It every day,
We get so tired
Of jam, we say,
“No way, Jose!
No jam today!”

Though they may pass

The pot our way,
We’ll shake our heads,
We’ll smile and say,
“No, thanks–we had
Some yesterday–
No jam today!
No jam today!”

CHORUS: No jam today! No jam today!

                  No jam today! No jam today!
                  Tomorrow jam, And yesterday,
                  But now I say, No jam today!

*

I think I'll make some veggie skewers for lunch. And maybe warm up the leftover steak and gravy I made yesterday.

 

*

Today was Flora Cage's birthday. She would have been about a hundred and ten.

Working Again.

Yesterday I printed out about a hundred old poems that have never been published--most of them never won a prize, for good reason. I printed them so that I could sit at the kitchen table and see if I could make them funnier, crazier, or less politically correct.

The down side is, I'll have to retype the whole mess into a new manuscript.

This is for Miss Sue's poetry book contest. If I should win (ha ha), she's welcome to wrestle with them and torture them into any shape she wants. Just so they get into print and the world greatly notes and long remembers that I spent seventy-odd years trying to entertain it.

Royal Flash

All I can think to say right now is, Thank you, Jed, for leaving that book here, even though I said I wouldn't read it. I didn't read the dedication page until I had finished the book, or it would have spoiled the surprise for me. Of course, I tumbled right away to the similarity of people and place names to The Prisoner of Zenda, but didn't really get it until the adventure was well under way, and not totally until the end. I liked Rudi better than Rupert of Hentzau.

I see there was a movie of it in 1975, and old Oliver Reed played Bismarck. Most gratifying, the note about Hawkins (Anthony Hope).

*

P.S. Flash is no Rudolf Rassendyll, but he has a pretty good heart.

It's a Mad World, After All

Negative Capability Press in Mobile is sponsoring a poetry book contest with a substantial prize. I thought, why not get together all my crazy poems, such as "Blam! Pterodactyl Time!" and "The Dance of the Ceiling Beams," enter them, and see what happens. So I went through the volumes on the computer, and found there are nearly a hundred of them, just about the right size of a book for the contest. All but ten of the manuscript poems must be unpublished, and I picked a few from Oak Mountain Echoes and The Lightness of the Dark, that sound a bit crazy, to include. If I write any more for this project, they'll probably be based on the crazy dreams.

The title will probably be It's a Mad World, After All. But it may not.

*

Every day, I try to have a dish of fresh vegetables. Yesterday it was a large cucumber/tomato salad with ranch dressing, along with my chicken and dumplings. One day I had three veggie skewers--squash, onion, tomato, bell pepper. I think I have enough to make those today.

*

Another project I'm thinking of is throwing a contest, either verse or short-short stories, sponsored by Rowan Wood Press, with a small entry fee which would convert to prize(s).

 

"A Lesson Too Late For the Learning"

Seems like every year I plant some flowers, strictly observing the package directions of "full sun." Then along about July, it doesn't rain and doesn't rain, and the flowers that are getting ready to bloom turn into brown sticks.

*

The bob-tailed squirrel is the only one I've seen on the lawn for several days.

Guess I need to go to Walmart and buy a bunch of sprinklers, hoses and stuff.

*

I dreamed I was driving with my eyes shut, and when I opened them, I was on the way to Mama and Daddy's house in Dunnavant. But the pavement turned into a gravel road, and then just plain dry dirt, and came to an end in front of a shack with a little girl playing in the yard. So I turned around and drove and drove, and finally realized I was lost.

C.G.J. would say the little girl was me.

*

My 2010 or 2011 picture (on the blog) looks like a fat lady. I guess I was about 30 pounds heavier. Reminds me of what Flora Cage said once: "I'd rather be a little overweight than look like an old prune."

T.S. Eliot: "Teach us to care and not to care. Teach us to sit still."