One Hundred Years of Attitude

The poem half belongs to the reader.

The poetry, the novel. Writers shepherd things into place, they are just words after all. The reader does half the lifting. But once they start gorging on films of literary origin, the teeth of the imagination begin to rot.

Consume the processed product of someone else’s imagination? Take the sirloin in pill form why don’t we. No gristle to pick from your teeth. Literature ignites the imagination, that’s what reading does. Watching a flickering screen, it is numbed. The imagination is anesthetized. But by all means, let Neflix make a Game of Thrones out of Garcia-Marquez, what could go wrong? Youth are remaking the world as we speak, it is not ours any more, us old farts. I worry about all the wrong things.

I have attitudes that mean nothing to anyone but me. They are like my children. I give them names and watch them grow up. Weep when they do poorly in school, or start stealing cars. It is a derangement I hold dear. One Hundred Years of Solitude will no doubt become the Breaking Bad of magical realism. It does not touch me. I have already built my own copy of that world.

Ever so slowly, I rise, and applaud.

The Bourne Perplexity

honed skillsets
every move precise
deeply ingrained, every how
but not a trace of why
the headaches
he can remember everything
but who he is

identity is a mystery
for the trained assassin
and the shift worker
alike

look at what they
made you give

Film Haiku No. 3

Rounders (1998)
Matt Damon, Edward Norton, Gretchen Mol, #spoilers

~

a dodgy friendship
ensnared by his loyalties
missteps and hard knocks

~

an interest in law
interferes with his calling
this hold’em genius

~

Teddy’s cookie tells
that ace could not have helped him
he flops a nut straight

Starfish Enterprise

Star Trek: Reboot
Grudge. Against. The Federation.

Dear Hollywood,

Did you really just give us the same basic story three times in a row? Whiny, pathetic little galactic Bond villains lashing out at the Federation? You revived the crew of the original Enterprise, younger, shiny and beautiful, perfectly cast, and you give them nothing interesting to do but exchange body blows with bad guys on a blue screen of perfectly rendered CGI just like every other soul crushing superhero reboot?

Star Trek TOS was a formative thing in my young television watching life, so when I saw you flirting with the idea of returning to the spirit of the original show, with younger incarnations of the original cast, I did get a little excited. There was always a sense of awe and wonder in those old episodes, and they out-shone everything else on the tube in those days. The show’s startling originality is something I’m afraid that you will never have the guts to pursue, and the irony is bitter as you pick away at the bones of something truly original and use the scraps to produce shit. On behalf of Gene Roddenberry I just want to say, fuck you, Hollywood. Louis CK is right. You just make shit. You are a machine that spews shit.