Tuesday, October 31, 2006

CRISPY'S FRIDAY, SATURDAY, AND TUESDAY AS RECALLED THROUGH THE FRIDAY, SATURDAY AND TUESDAY JOURNALS OF CRISPY FLOTILLA

FRIDAY

Spent a terribly long time drawing a grape gave up and opted for the orange belly button with cascading stars instead

Watched a flock of birds ascend, vortex-like, over a bank, looking like bats

Swallowed a mosquito riding a bike (I mean, I was riding a bike)

Listened to someone reading a poem about Opera and blood in Russian

Ate a chocolate truffle shaped like an ancient pyramid


SATURDAY

Considered how beautiful key limes and white chocolate sound together

Discovered that Graham Nash, not Stephen Stills, sang Marrakesh Express

Discovered that Darwin floated asparagus in his bathtub

Asked a man named Rudy what I would look like riding a bicycle called the Rockabilly Boogy

Wondered if lions could be nice to anyone like they were to Joy Adamson

Today the clouds came out of nowhere

Today my paper airplane didn't fly

Said, “today may be roast beef, but tomorrow will be almond apricot tart”


**

TUESDAY

I thought it was an accident, but now I have walked towards policemen putting people into handcuffs TWICE

I will never learn to spell Talouse-Latrec

The easiest costume to design in a sloppy way is Peter Pan’s

Bowls made out of orange skins are only sold during Orange season

Psychedelic music is filled with tears, but that is a new way to look at it

In the 50’s, the blue sky had a grey glaze to it, like a sort of custardy desert


all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006

HOPELESSLY GAUCHE

HOPELESSLY GAUCHE

Were I to look at old movies–young men running through fields of barley–and let’s say all the color has faded because the movie is so old. If I started to cry, would that be hopelessly gauche?

OR WOULD YOU DATE ME

If you thought I was sensitive when I looked at the movie and cried?

BUT ON THE OTHER HAND

What if you asked me why I was crying?

I DON’T THINK IT’S A GOOD IDEA

If you ask me why I am crying. I am allergic to barley.

STILL

Hey, I am not allergic to looking at barley. Faded colors make me sad.

BUT HONESTLY THEY DON’T MAKE ME CRY

Faded colors don’t. You do. You were nearby
when I saw the movie. Guess what?

I LOVE YOU

You make me cry, so next to me. By the way: who do you suppose those young men were in the movie?

COULD THEY BE YOU

Not possible, woman of my dreams. Perhaps they are me as you imagine me looking at the images of me and crying as the colors fade and you are so far away behind the camera. I see you right there.

MAYBE

You are listening to Pink Floyd.

FUN FACT

They used to be called ‘The Pink Floyd’

PERHAPS THERE IS ONE THING YOU SHOULD KNOW

It concerns the door knob that is shaped like a hippo

OH

The house is so empty, and filled with colors

ALL THE TIME

I am only talking about love

ALL THE TIME

I am only talking about you

NEVER

Will I not

ALWAYS

will I do


all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006

Sunday, October 29, 2006

NEW POEM

INSANITY: I like it!

UNFORGIVEABLE: hitting a peach tree with a gun

SOFTLY SPINNING: I wish I were!

GEM: not to be confused with ‘gin’

GEM & TONIC: a great idea! I had a dream once

FERTILE SOIL: my/yr love for you/me and so on

TRAPPED IN A WORLD OF MADNESS: I hope not! Also, a great ska band heaven

HOSTILITY POSSESSES MEN’S HEARTS: but it’s really not so bad. I once saw a man pick up a girl and carry her across the street and she was laughing


all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006

EVERY MAN FORGOT HE WAS A SOLDIER AND FLED ...

a line from Herodotus


Has there ever been a tale of greater sorrow told?

Yes. Defenseless box turtles on the busy streets. Deer lost in the woods. A man trying to be chipper when he falls down and sprains his angle and he is 80 years old!

The men who flee are not 80 years old. They have so much to live for!

But they do not have being soldiers to live for. They have fled. Imagine a box turtle. Or a lost deer in a battlefield in the woods. You cannot! That’s OK–there’s no reason to. Let deer be deer, turtle be turtle, the old man the old man, and so on. But ‘on so on’ must stop before the soldier, because, fleeing, they aren’t what they were. Why, they’re not even what they are.

all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006

NO, I HAVEN'T SEEN IT.

Pumping his little legs on the bicycle,
Daymond could hear the stories of
Maria Antoinette in the countryside
as deer and rabbit cautiously made
their way out into the road

A younger, more frivolous Marie
Antoinette would not warn the animals
of danger, danger that such roads might
reveal. She would say, instead: “Come
play with me,” and might even add,
“my sweet” – but oh the horsecarts,
and someday, the trucks, trains and
cars – oh, them too.

A more prudent Marie Antoinette would be
more, well, prudent. But then again there
never was a more prudent Maria Antoinette.

The deer glisten in the a.m. dew.
"Pardon me, monsieur,” Marie Antoinette
apologies, doefully. “Did I step on your
toe?” You know you did. Hey! He says, She
is quite a looker, and now, I understand,
as he watches her climb the stairs,
quite single.

all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

THE PALPABLE AND FLEECY NIGHT TERRORS OF CRISPY A LA MODE

THIS GUY HAUNTS MY DREAMS!








No, seriously, he doesn't. Don't worry about it. Wait! What did you say? He haunts yours?


all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006

Sunday, October 15, 2006

CRISPY PLAYS DARWIN, after a fashion


BEAGLEMANIA


I have discovered the pleasant ritual
of placing delicate plants on the dresser
near the large window in my bedroom

The window faces whatever direction
that might be which receives no sun
throughout the day

The plants do not have a long and prosperous
life there. Often I say to them: “If I were you,
I would consider a move somewhere. Perhaps
some place sunny and warm. It would do you
a world of good.”

But do they listen?

Never. Except, perhaps, the orchid.

One day, during the winter, it jumped
off the counter after I slammed the door
as I called you a terrible name. Falling
to the floor, it was only able to scatter
a small amount of its soil as the breeze
flowed through the window, which it did
only for a moment and when the door
slammed again and I called you another
terrible name–more terrible than the first.

I consider, as of this day, the orchid to be
the bravest and perhaps smartest of all
houseplants, although orchids would not
agree that they are houseplants.

And the orchid, its seed scattered, did not
live long. What else is new? As I dreamed,
I saw you lift your head off the pillow, and
keep it there until I looked at you and said

“What have I done?”

Then you smiled and put your head down
on the pillow and rested, closing your eyes.
“What did I do?”

But orchids don’t have eyes.

all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson & Charles Darwin, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006

••

please note: any resemblance between Charles Darwin and funny looking white bearded scowling Charles Darwiny-looking guy in a wine colored jacket or coat in keeping with the style of men's fashion during Charles Darwin's final years is purely coincidental

CRISPY SOLICITS YOUR OPINION: you know crispy–is this the bike for him?



all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson and various images by Electra Cruisers of Benno, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006

CRISPY REFLECTS ON HOW EVERYTHING THAT IS OLD IS NEW AGAIN, ESPECIALLY IF THE OLD IS OLD JAPAN AND THE NEW IS NEW CARRBORO, NORTH CAROLINA


In the very old days of Old Japan,
when a charismatic royal prince
chose to follow his destiny, he
would often have an affair with an
uneducated daughter of a peasant
fisherman in a rural village faraway
from his kingdom, and he did so,
with impunity, accompanied by a
royal servant who followed his
bidding without question, such was
his loyalty and faith in his charismatic
young prince. Such was the order
of the day.

My day begins with a chocolate bar
from the convenience store. It doesn’t
matter if the cashier is uneducated,
a peasant, a woman, or even knows
how to fish: if I follow my destiny
as I see it, there will be a rumpus.


all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006

Thursday, October 12, 2006

TWO HUNDRED MOVIES

I have seen 200 movies
this year. I thought I would
count them. When I did,
I multiplied that number by
50, so that adding them up,
except perhaps for those
first two years or so, I could
say, fairly safely, that I have
seen 10,000 movies so far.
They were all pretty good!
I would have to give
my life two thumbs up.

all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006

WHEN BOB DYLAN SAID, OR PERHAPS IT WAS BILLY THE KID, I ALWAYS GET THEM CONFUSED...


I am beginning to wonder what I named this 'Hello Melodies.' Sometimes I have to think back and wonder exactly what made me write the usually two words that I write when I am writing a title for a piece, especially one that has a title but doesn't say anything else. I am guessing that, since there is nothing to say, I am opening up the front door and welcoming someone musical into the house. I hope its a nice waltz or a polka that is jaunty.

**

Postnote: When Bob Dylan said, 'It's getting dark / too dark to see' I think he meant Hello. Then of course there was this beautiful melody. 'This is the story of Hurricane,' (1975) said Bob, and then something about the police or something. I think then he started saying that Indiana Wanted Him and Lord He Won't Go Back There. Everyone loves to say that no, you're wrong, that was R. Dean Taylor who wouldn't go back there, but anyone who has ever heard Bob Dylan imitate a police siren immediately recognizes his trademark sound, while R. Dean Taylor only used to tape the sounds of police sirens when they stopped him to ask him what the hell he was doing. Mostly, in Indiana. In 1971. With curly long hair. Sounding nothing like Bob Dylan.


all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006

LEMON TREES ARE VERY PRETTY, BUT NOTHING COMPARES WITH LEMON PLEDGE, BEAUTY-WISE

There is so much that you can tell from a man from looking into his eyes: some might say his heart, his soul, his dreams, his regrets. But it's really true that everthing has to be perfect: I would recommend dimming the lights, putting on a selection from
Montovani’s ‘In a Latin Mood’ (’Cielito Lindo’–highly recommended), pouring a glass of 2000 Vosne-Romanée Aux Brulées Domaine Leroy, lighting a pleasing fire in the fireplace, and then, oh, what the hell. Keep lighting things. Why stop now? Drapes and floral arrangements go up in a jiffy, and dressers and ottomans do too, especially if you clean them regularly with a petroleum-based cleaning product, such as Lemon Pledge, or one with a piney-rich, pleasing aromas such as Murphy’s Oil Soap.


all artwork, except likenesses of Lyndon B. Johnson, by Crispy Flotilla ® 2006
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