10 Points on How to be a True Gentleman

(Some posts deserve to be resurrected, no matter how long ago I posted it. In this day and age, this one is especially timely and poignant. From April, 2003. I suggest you print it out and carry it at all times in your wallet, or billfold, when emergencies or difficult situations arise.)

10 POINTS ON HOW TO BE A TRUE GENTLEMAN

1. Always be gentle, polite, and speak kindly and nicely at all times
2. Never throw things
3. Moderate your nasty habits
4. Think, "I am attractive."
5. Remember to inculcate a feeling of modesty, and diligence
6. Never kick animals, especially at parks and nature preserves, or in front of children
7. Use spittoons if you chew, or a handkerchief if you use snuff
8. Avoid any kind of low drink such as Vermouth, or Gin that is sold in plastic containers, and soforth
9. Attend a Church occasionally
10. Do well, and fear not

A Short Story

It has been awhile, hasn't it? Looking at the budding trees, a space that will soon be a renewed wall of shivering green, I was thinking almost fondly of you. But I'm glad you're dead. And I'm glad I did it.

rude poem

i write this
rude
rude
rude
rude
rude
little poem

It was then when he realized suddenly

It was then when he realized suddenly, with a flash of private joy, that he was living in the midst of golden days...days that later in his life he would look back over, and feel pleasure towards, he'd feel even a profound reverence for these days. What he was doing now would warm his heart and bones as a lonely old man. He tossed the grenade into the foxhole and ducked before it exploded.

good/ a short poem

good
a short poem
i keep it
or i throw it away
that is all there is
to it

i threw a

i threw a
dime
into hell
and
someone spent
it
far below

A SUGGESTED INSCRIPTION

A SUGGESTED INSCRIPTION FOR
A CHEOPS NEEDLE OR SIMILAR
MONUMENT


I FOUND A RUSTED RAZOR BLADE
ON THE ROOFTOP
IN SLANTING RAIN

I ACCIDENTALLY BROKE A LIGHT-BULB
AND SCATTERED ITS GHOST
UNDER MY COUCH

I LISTENED TO THE LOVELY ARIA
SUNG BY THE FAMOUS
LOVELY OPERA STAR

THE PHONE RANG FROM TIME TO TIME
AND IT WAS THE WRONG NUMBER
OVER AND OVER AGAIN

AFTER IT WAS QUIET FOR A LONG TIME
I REACHED FOR THE RECORD
AND I PLAYED THE ARIA AGAIN

THE RECORD
DEVELOPED A SKIP
SO I GOT ONTO MY ROOF AGAIN

I TRIED TO
HUCK THE RECORD
HALF-WAY TO THE STARS

BUT IT ONLY FELL
SMASHING TO SMITHEREENS

IN THE STREET

ANNO DOMINI 1993

YOUR ASSIGNMENT

Study the effects of Typography on total strangers.

Lunch at the Beach (The Sand Keeps Piling Up)

Lately, every day Martin goes to the beach for lunch. He eats a few bites of his pathetic hand-made sandwich, with its runny tomato on top of sad baloney, then throws himself down face first in the sand, and cries. A bum who lives at the beach has gotten used to this routine and shouts encouragement from a sand dune away, "Yes buddy! That's it! Let it out! You're crying for the WHHOOLE world!" Martin pretends not to hear the bum. He gathers up the sand around him, to get comfortable, like gathering up covers and pillows. He does this as his tears dry. He does not remember, but he did this same repetitive soothing arm motions when he was a small infant. It made him feel better then, and it still does now. Meanwhile, sand is piling up everywhere, in Martin's pockets, his car, the office...there are small traces, trails of sand to the coffee machine, to Martin's front door...his coworkers don't know what to do, because he won't talk. Martin doesn't know what to do. So the sand keeps piling up.

Note on the Tao

the darkness
is Tao

it does not
swerve

it does not sit