How tasty was my cereal this morning

Wordless Wednesday

Zapping the remote control

Zemi, one of the characters I met during my time zap travels.

These are some of the places and times where blind zapping curiosity took me …

Zap: Ah, it’s mighty damp here, I’ve got sweat running down everywhere after just a sec, and it’s so misty I can hardly see a thing … and what’s this ugly furry creature there that’s eying me from the front (or back?) of its furry head … about 27 feet tall … and feet on both sides of the foot if that makes any sense … now marching towards me through the swampy terrain … don’t like his/her approach …

Zap: I’m in a desert on some planet … surrounded by insect-like robots about 100 times the size of the biggest terrestrial insects … what the hell are these guys doing? … I see, they’re sifting the sand for something … gold? plutonium? planetarium? … I feel hungry, nothing edible around … better leave before they discover me and put me through one of those sifters ...

Zap: I’m in Charles Dickens’ room, looking over his shoulder as he’s scribbling on and on about Mr. Micawber … he gives me a distracted look, but doesn’t really register … let him work … I love David Copperfield the way it is, no sense in interfering …

Zap: I’m in a trench … soldiers that look like frogs, literally, they’ve got these things over their heads that make 'em look like … my God, let me get out of here before there’s a poison gas attack …

Zap: What are these four gigantic columns around me? And that above me – is that someone’s gigantic belly? And those egg-shaped things the size of helicopter cabs … are those balls? Don’t let that plesiosaurus or whatever sit down (on me!) while I’m looking for my RC in the grass …

PS: I made it back home – to my own modest time, my own modest place – as you might have guessed because I managed to survive and post these exploits.

– Len “Time Zapper” Blumfeld

Written for Sunday Scribblings' #100 prompt "Time Machine"

Synonyms for never

• one of these days
• eventually
• when I get around to it

This topic came up as a result of listening to a piece by Bill Frisell (from "Nashville") in which the lyrics "One of these days I'm gonna sit down and write a long letter" are repeated again and again.

Please feel free to add any other never variants you can think of.

– L.B.

See you lator

I still likes my amplificator
but now also wants a magnificator
before heading down to the equator
with my magnanimator
to avoid the torpiditator
with his pet alligator,
an eradicator
by trade, a voluminator,
pollutinator,
terrificator
and terminator by effect.

– Len "Procrastinator" Blumfeld

Note
That one came out of the blue. I only felt exhausted and depleted when I started a list of words, existing and invented, ending in -ator. Now I feel much refreshed. Ain't that sumpin'!

Haiku2 for me

oops just noticed
that i also work for the
other the people

There is a blog – memes at angrygoats – that generates haikus from the contents of blogs. I had the one above created from World So Wide. It's interesting what a computer can do with one's words.
Try it out on your own blog – it's fun!

– L.B.

P.S.: To be working for the other the people – I kinda like that.

A poem for Soni

A late entry for Totally Optional Prompts' request for a 'romantic poem.' I have a romantic streak (perhaps it's only sentimental – someone who should know told me there was no romantic bone in me), but usually write about other people in any love stories I write. Well, this one is all about me myself I and hopefully not too embarrassing.

For Soni

A lightning bolt of pure joy struck
as our eyes and then hands met
that evening at the puja.

It made me wonder for a split second
whether both of us had tied hands
with the wrong ones –
you with your scowling bumbling boyfriend,
I with my pretty preening wife.

Now my wife has left for good,
and your boyfriend did finally get a job
in far-away Cologne.

The image of your radiant dark face,
set off so beautifully by your thick white sweater,
the feel of your small, courageous hand in mine
have been alive in my mind for months.

And yet I do not call.
Could one intense moment I felt
mean something?
Were you struck like me?

Heated imagination, I tell myself, hogwash.
And might never know for sure.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Message in a bottle

The Teach at Work of the Poet tagged me for Mimi's Message in a Bottle meme. The picture above shows my very simple 3-word message.

Here are the rules for participation in this meme:

You are about to send a virtual Message In a Bottle across the Blog Ocean. Leave a message in the sand or on the bottle. Write anything you wish. Be a pirate or a poet. Serious or silly. Anonymous or not. What message would you like to send out to the universe?

1. Compose a message to place in your virtual bottle.
2. Right click and SAVE the blank graphic below.

3. Use a graphics program of your choice to place the message on the picture.
4. Post the Message In a Bottle meme and your creation on your blog along with these rules.
5. Tag a minimum of 5 bloggers - or your entire blogroll - to do the same. Notify them of the tag. Your virtual bottle will remain afloat in the blogosphere ocean for all blogernity (that's a Mimism for blog + eternity.)

So, if you are tagged by me, go over to Mimi's and ADD your site to her Mr. Linky list and place your blog's name and url in a comment HERE TO LET MIMI KNOW YOU'VE COMPLETED THE MEME. Mimi will add it to the master list of message bottles. Email mimiwrites2005 at yahoo.com if you have questions. Participation is optional. Just remember she has a dungeon ... and some of you are STILL there from the Band Meme. Have fun!

I'm tagging:
Fourbourne @ Fourbourne
Myrtle Beached Whale @ Myrtle Beach Ramblings
Gautami Tripathy @ Rooted
Tumblewords @ Tumblewords
Laura Scarlett @ Laura Scarlett

Intrepid little bird

Intrepid Little Bird (2006)
Acrylic on kraft paper

Inspire Me Thursday's proposition for this week was:

Action Painting

This week let us be inspired by Action Painting, a “style of painting in which paint is spontaneously dribbled, splashed or smeared onto the canvas, rather than being carefully applied.” Think Jackson Pollock, the American Abstract Expressionist painter who was fond of huge canvases on the floor, applying paint with a stick or other objects, using a ‘drip’ technique, walking around the canvas, being ‘in the painting.’

I was immediately reminded of a series of paintings I did in 2006, for which I partially used a drip technique. What I call "Intrepid Little Bird" above is just a small section of a larger painting done with a combination of dripping and rolling.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Dread, dread

Meeting with "superior" coming up this afternoon – some fundamentals will need to be discussed.
I'm working for two teams. She heads one of them and doesn't like the fact that I also work for the other. The people in hers are more problematic.
I hate sitting between chairs!

In sleep

In sleep mysteries rise,
mysteries rise in sleep.

Towards morning especially
mysteries rise in sleep.

Air lifts and sudden dives
rise in the morning in sleep.

Corridors and blocked passages,
dimly lit dives rise in sleep.

A forgotten name and a rose
this morning rose in sleep.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2008)

Note
Written in response to Sunday Scribblings' prompt

#98 - Sleep (and/or Teeth)

Sorry about the missing teeth. None have risen in sleep lately.

The form I'm using here is loosely based on the ghazal.