Monday, November 25, 2002

Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter

I was reading the book Night Watch by the criminally ignored writer Sean Stewart a few years ago and the poetry of Li Po was featured heavily in the book. Ever read any Li Po? I have found his poetry to amazing in that its tone is that of poems you can read today in any poetry journal. You can't read
or Homer and make that connection.

You are probably thinking right now, what's the point? I was searching for a clever way to make you want to read Li Po. I failed. I am shamed and I apologize.

The reason that they killed him there, and I'm sure it ain't no lie, Was just for the fun of killin' him and to watch him slowly die.

Martin is really pissing me off right now. He is sitting next to me while I am doing chat reference here in the work room. He is very negative and if doesn't watch it, I am going to kill him. Slowly, with a dull spoon. Why is he talking to himself when there are two other people in the room? You should only talk to yourself if you are alone or if you are swering at one of your cats. He types like a girl. His watch is too big. He is writing an email to someone in Tech services. The only way to effectively communicate with those people is to go down there and stomp some ass. Major ass. Stomp ass like a group of drug dealing eight graders coming across some grade schoolers.

In case Martin has a safe fall on his head on the way to his car after work or something equally unexpected happens, I want to assert that I was just kidding about killing Martin. I have never killed another human being since Vietnam. I got all that out of my system then. After that slaughter of the pre-school daycare full of suspected VC children I really didn't have the need to really ever kill again. I did because it was easy. I just didn't have to. I could take it or leave it like a homeless guy and soap and water.

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