Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Tepid day, late April

Work and the world are going by –
Rita makes a paper butterfly.

– Leonard "Keen Observer" Blumfeld (© 2011)

Razor edge of time poetic reporting from the workplace.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

A Japanese E-Novel

"Oh but Hiroto, where's the draft of the novel you promised for today?"
"Sorry, Louise, I've been preoccupied with looking for a life partner, and you know that it's not easy for us expatriates."
"Yes, you've mentioned it before."
"It's taken away my serenity."
"Your serenity?"
"Yes, and I can't write without. Neither can I without a life partner."
"But I thought you'd found one."
"Yes, I thought I'd located one, from Osaka. But it turns out she expects me to pay for her health insurance. That would be like a thousand euros a month."
"I see."
"No, you don't see, Louise. Ever since Fukushima there have been so many Japanese women just waiting to leave the country. All in search of eligible expatriate bachelors like me. Airline stewardesses, for example."
"Then it should be possible to find someone else."
"I'm writing e-mails every day."
"That's why the novel is not progressing, I imagine."
"I'm not serene, I'm not within my senses, Louise."
"You could turn your e-mails into a novel. In a modern day revival of the epistolary novel."
"It's an idea."
"You could weave your weapon collection into it, and your knowledge of martial arts. Start emphasizing these in your mails to the ladies."
"I sold all my weapons on E-Bay. However, I bought myself a saxophone."
"Jazz is all right, too. You could call your e-pistolary novel Akiko and the Saxophone Man, or Health Insurance Rewarded."
"Why that?"
"It's a takeoff on Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded, the beststelling novel in letters of all times. You told me your flame's name was Akiko. And there's the health insurance issue, you said."
"Exactly. But I'm not willing to pay a thousand a month. Not for any woman."
"You won't have a problem with that, Hiroto, once your novel gets published."
"Thanks, Louise. Some of my serenity may be coming back. You've given my creativity a new direction."
"Keep cranking out those e-mails, Hiroto. One hundred and eighty pages of draft in a week?"
"It's a deal, Louise."

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2012)

Based on a true story. Contains draft, locate and serenity from 3WW.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Hype is hard to justify with a growl

I walked over to the table where the shaddy sheeplegger had just sat down.
"What can I do you for, sir?"
Sheepleggers from the planet of Arce generally seem to react well to some sense of humor. Not this one:
"If I'z in the mood fer yokes, kitty, you'll knew it. To-die iz not wanna doze dies. Quet me some of yer hype, and makes it snoppy, will yer?"
With its huge amount of calories, artificial colorants and flavorings and transfatty acids, hype is one of the favorite slops on the menu of the Latter Day Survivors of the Universe Café, where I happen to work.
I could not suppress a growl, which is my natural feline reaction when rubbed the wrong way.
"Quet yer thin arce quoin, kitz, befer I grab ye by yer frilly tail."
"You try that, Mr. Sheep, and you'll have a few claws in your shaddy fur."
"Ye quet me that hype, or I'll choinge my moind and werk outta here unfad, and ye ken ferget my tipz."
I hissed, as it is our feline custom, and walked away to fill his order.
Unfortunately, customers are few and far between nowadays, ever since that terrible war between the Cats of the East, the Gnats of the West, the Rats of the North and the Bats of the South. It's gotten so bad that we now have to serve those we used to eat. It's gotten so bad that I'd probably have to justify my catty behavior towards this horn-shoed oaf from the planet of Arce to my boss, that big-balled ape from the planet of Farce.

– Leonard "Looking towards the Future" Blumfeld (© 2012)

Written around growl, hype and justify from 3WW.

Monday, April 2, 2012


My inbox in white
exuberant bloom this spring
as never before.

– Leonard "Florescent" Blumfeld (© 2011)

Written for One Single Impression and inbox.

The inbox is a variety of box distinguished by its small, fragrant white flowers.