allthumbs Posted January 27, 2003 Posted January 27, 2003 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. "Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!" He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought-- So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One two! One two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" He chortled in his joy. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. Quote
Dru Posted January 27, 2003 Posted January 27, 2003 The History Of One Tough Motherfucker he came to the door one night wet thin beaten and terrorized a white cross-eyed tailless cat I took him in and fed him and he stayed grew to trust me until a friend drove up the driveway and ran him over I took what was left to a vet who said,"not much chance...give him these pills...his backbone is crushed, but is was crushed before and somehow mended, if he lives he'll never walk, look at these x-rays, he's been shot, look here, the pellets are still there...also, he once had a tail, somebody cut it off..." I took the cat back, it was a hot summer, one of the hottest in decades, I put him on the bathroom floor, gave him water and pills, he wouldn't eat, he wouldn't touch the water, I dipped my finger into it and wet his mouth and I talked to him, I didn't go any- where, I put in a lot of bathroom time and talked to him and gently touched him and he looked back at me with those pale blue crossed eyes and as the days went by he made his first move dragging himself forward by his front legs (the rear ones wouldn't work) he made it to the litter box crawled over and in, it was like the trumpet of possible victory blowing in that bathroom and into the city, I related to that cat-I'd had it bad, not that bad but bad enough one morning he got up, stood up, fell back down and just looked at me. "you can make it," I said to him. he kept trying, getting up falling down, finally he walked a few steps, he was like a drunk, the rear legs just didn't want to do it and he fell again, rested, then got up. you know the rest: now he's better than ever, cross-eyed almost toothless, but the grace is back, and that look in his eyes never left... and now sometimes I'm interviewed, they want to hear about life and literature and I get drunk and hold up my cross-eyed, shot, runover de-tailed cat and I say,"look, look at this!" but they don't understand, they say something like,"you say you've been influenced by Celine?" "no," I hold the cat up,"by what happens, by things like this, by this, by this!" I shake the cat, hold him up in the smoky and drunken light, he's relaxed he knows... it's then that the interviews end although I am proud sometimes when I see the pictures later and there I am and there is the cat and we are photo- graphed together. he too knows it's bullshit but that somehow it all helps. Quote
sk Posted January 27, 2003 Posted January 27, 2003 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. "Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!" He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought-- So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One two! One two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" He chortled in his joy. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. that is lewis carol Quote
rbw1966 Posted January 27, 2003 Posted January 27, 2003 When I was young I had no sense. I stuck my dick in an electric fence. It curled my hair and tickled my balls and made me shit in my overalls. Quote
Dru Posted January 27, 2003 Posted January 27, 2003 What luck! The southern valley Make snow fragrant. I know they arent 5-7-5 but thats cause of translation! A autumn wind More white Than the rocks in the rocky mountain. From all directions Winds bring petals of cherry Into the grebe lake. Even a wild boar With all other things Blew in this storm. The crescent lights The misty ground. Buckwheat flowers. Bush clover in blossom waves Without spilling A drop of dew. Quote
minx Posted January 27, 2003 Posted January 27, 2003 i didn't know it was so tough to translate canadian to american Quote
sk Posted January 27, 2003 Posted January 27, 2003 i didn't know it was so tough to translate canadian to american LMAO Quote
Dr_Flash_Amazing Posted January 27, 2003 Posted January 27, 2003 What are you talking aboat, eh? It's tohtally complicated, eh. Quote
pope Posted January 27, 2003 Posted January 27, 2003 Crimpers and slopers and long waits in iso; The stretch in my lycra that helps me to dyno; The beta I'll need for the crux underclings.....these are a few of my favorite things. A bolt by my feet and my knee and my shoulder; Some obnoxious music to play when I boulder; Apparel that matches my colorful slings....these are a few of my favorite things! Quote
Dr_Flash_Amazing Posted January 27, 2003 Posted January 27, 2003 Crimpers and slopers and long waits in iso; The stretch in my lycra that helps me to dyno; The beta I'll need for the crux underclings.....these are a few of my favorite things. A bolt by my feet and my knee and my shoulder; Some obnoxious music to play when I boulder; Apparel that matches my colorful slings....these are a few of my favorite things! Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Viva the 80's! And for the new age: Toothbrush and chalkpot and crashpad so cushy Prana short-shorts show off crag-betty tushy Warm up on Magic Lite, then go send Kings ... these are a few of my favorite things! This game rocks. Quote
catbirdseat Posted January 27, 2003 Posted January 27, 2003 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. 'Twas Plymmig, and the Beamsey sheets Did gybe and spinnake o'er the beach, All burgee were the mizzen beats And the stay tack outreach. Beware the jurygaff, my son, The cleats that jam, the shrouds that stretch, Beware the trimaran, and shun The clumptions cataketch. He took his tiller luff to deck Long time the distant main he sought, So ruddered he by the gallefry And anchored there athwart. But as in clewsome fend he keeled The cataketch with forestay guide Came riding through the gale and heeled, All reefed upon the tide. About! About! and in and out The plimsoll mast went log-a-smack! He left it barred, and planing hard He jibbed, abafting back. "And has thou slooped the cataketch? Port to my helm, my boomish bouy! O freeboard horse! O transome course!" He portled in his joy. 'Twas Plymmig, and the Beamsey sheets Did gybe and spinnake o'er the beach, All burgee were the mizzen beats And the stay tack outreach. A luff Lyric of Vertue and Boaty by Merton Naydler (David Lewis; The Ship Would Not Travel Due West, Chapter 8) Quote
COL._Von_Spanker Posted January 28, 2003 Posted January 28, 2003 Am I a shallow brute if 99% of poetry bugs the hell out of me? I like books and bukowski though. Quote
sk Posted January 28, 2003 Posted January 28, 2003 I like certin poems and some poets. but mostly I prefer prose. I don't gereraly care for short stories either. although there are exceptions. Quote
Dru Posted January 28, 2003 Posted January 28, 2003 i like good writing and dislike bad writing. i read a lot of books like 5 a week. i dont have a TV and live alone, thats my secret. Quote
allthumbs Posted January 28, 2003 Posted January 28, 2003 right on dru 1. hustler 2. penthouse 3. playboy 4. chic 5. club international Quote
COL._Von_Spanker Posted January 28, 2003 Posted January 28, 2003 I like certin poems and some poets. but mostly I prefer prose. I don't gereraly care for short stories either. although there are exceptions. David Sedaris=Good Short Stories Quote
Dru Posted January 28, 2003 Posted January 28, 2003 there's reading in those mags? pictures dont count as reading or do you mean "Busty Brandi, 21, 48-26-32, likes unshaven mountain climbers, snafflehounds and horsecock. Turnoffs include Lycra and bolts. Future plans include soloing Reticent Wall." Quote
rbw1966 Posted January 28, 2003 Posted January 28, 2003 I like certin poems and some poets. but mostly I prefer prose. I don't gereraly care for short stories either. although there are exceptions. David Sedaris=Good Short Stories Raymond Carver=GREAT short stories Quote
allthumbs Posted January 28, 2003 Posted January 28, 2003 there's reading in those mags? pictures dont count as reading or do you mean "Busty Brandi, 21, 48-26-32, likes unshaven mountain climbers, snafflehounds and horsecock. Turnoffs include Lycra and bolts. Future plans include soloing Reticent Wall." wackers unite Quote
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