Thursday, November 26, 2015

The undulation haiku

An undulation
through the wall – sufi music
or vacuum cleaner


– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Note
Again the truth and nothing but the truth as it happened a while ago. Considering that this musical event did not last very long and did not develop, I now suspect that it was indeed the vacuum cleaner run at low speed to pick up a specific moderate mess and not the alaap of an Indian music piece.

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Work

I’ve been coming twice a week to clean this illustrious writer’s house – thirteen or even fourteen years it must be. He used to meet people, have interviews, appear on TV, particularly after the success of his one and only novel The Deserted Planet, which, as you know, also became a movie everyone went to see. That was probably about ten years ago. He had a big party to celebrate his 70th birthday – I was there to help out in the kitchen. Lots of VIPs – writers, the mayor, people from politics and cinema. His ex-wife, that well-known anchorwoman. And then a gradual decline set in, fewer people came, he stayed home most of the time. Eventually he would no longer go on his habitual hour long walks. And now, sadly, his speech is as jumbled as his thoughts. His niece is taking care of him now, is getting paid for it and in control of everything. And stingy. He’s become haggard because she skimps on his food – while treating herself to fancy meals downtown with her boyfriend. He moved in a year ago. The slick, lecherous type. Has his eyes glued to certain parts of me whenever he’s around. Once he told me, when handing me my money, “You know, Felicidad, I love Latin women. A lot. There is something so exotically sensuous and seductive about them.” I keep the job because of the old man, who mostly sits in the living room now, staring out of the window.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Written around illustrious, habitual and jumbled from 3WW.

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

The outside the bar on a November morning haiku

She holds her warm cup
as if it were a gift from 
the gods of autumn.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Note
Based on an observation from this morning. Being smokers, Mona Lisa and her Indian companion were outside and shivering while I was enjoying the warmer climate inside.

Thursday, November 12, 2015

The grace haiku

Sitting in the sun,
watching the turtles play in
the warmth of the sun.


– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Note
The truth and nothing but the truth a few minutes ago when this came to me and I went upstairs to write it down. Italian sun in the middle of November...

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Sweet music from next door

Her heart is full of
love and longing for someone.
Heavy metal gone.


– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Note
The truth and nothing but the truth about the teeny neighbor. May this soft phase last! It’s definitely easier on the ears.

Thursday, November 5, 2015

Suzanne

Suzanne takes you down to her place by the river
– Leonard Cohen

Today, Suzanne mused again sentimentally on her blog about washing and its close relationship to loving and longing, hanging up bunches of unnatural things for drying. As if the sun would ever get to them down there by the river.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Notes
Mixed media – digestion of a poem about washing found on a blog and XOR operation with Leonard Cohen's song Suzanne. By the way, Leonard Cohen was the one who gave half of this pseudonym, the other half coming from Franz Kafka.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

The Donald Trump haiku

Billions and not
a thing to sell. Billions.
No trump, none at all.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Note
Some people appear to have it all. Well, maybe in the bank. Other than that: nothing at all.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Final

Rose's jabs at me while we were having our weekly candlelight dinner at the Oasis, that place of Nouvelle Cuisine fine dining and excessive pricing, seemed a bit labored or even makeshift.

"There's something wrong with your jabs tonight, love," I said during a break.

She took her time chewing a morsel of boeuf whatever.

She cleared her throat; this was always a bad sign.

"My jabs, as you so conveniently call my part of our conversation, have come to an end. I'm leaving you."

"Don't tell me it's Julian Dent."

Julian Dent was her posh and good looking dentist. I'd long suspected that something might be going on there.

"No. It's not."

She took a sip from her glass of Merlot and savored it.

"Someone I know?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Your brother."

Now that was the final jab. Like one with a knife. And it had come easily from her, sounding neither labored nor makeshift.

She rose quietly and walked out of my life.

– Leonard Blumfeld ((c) 2015)

Written around jab, labored and makeshift from 3WW.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

The thanks but no thanks haiku

To Elsie and her dog Chihuauzer

Thank you for your grrrr
picture. I know you love your
dog. But I do not.

– Leonard Blumfeld ((c) 2015)

Notes
All too often dog owners are so enamored with their furry friends that they assume everyone else loves them just as much (or should). Barking, penetrating and unwelcome interest, sniffing, showing teeth, planting paws on someone's chest are just a few choice items of dog behavior not everyone appreciates.
Disclaimer: I do not know anyone named Elsie, nor do I know a dog named Chihuauzer. However, I did know someone years ago who had a mutt resulting from the union of a chihuahua and a schnauzer and proclaimed that his dog was therefore a chihuauzer.


Sunday, October 18, 2015

An excerpt from an interview with Anna K., actress

“I hate smoking, especially Lucky Strikes.
And I hate kissing – or worse –, especially old lechers like [name omitted], my so-called romantic partner in my most recent film.
Ha!
Both make me vomit, and that’s not a good thing to do in front of the camera.”

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Disclaimer
Some names have been shortened or suppressed to avoid legal issues.