October 14th, 2001

S&G 1

What's your favorite cheese?

I think my new favorite cheese is candlelight poetry. :) Especially when slightly intoxicated, really tired, and giggly.

Brad and Nick came over last night... I had a totally different picture of what Brad was going to be like - on the phone, he said "we don't know what we're going to do yet" and by "we" I thought he meant him and several adoring LiveJournal minions. But it was just Nick, which was mucho better.

So anyway, we went downtown with the intention of finding some cool bar, but we ended up walking a big loop around the northern part of SW Portland and coming back up to Ringlers (under the Crystal Ballroom) and having a pitcher of beer (for them) and a Grapefruit Cosmopolitan (for me - I'm so much more sophisticated - or prissy, one or the other). Then we went to Gypsy on NW 21st Ave and more beers (and this time a "Gypsy Orchid") was had. Thank goodness for cheap dates - we retired to my apartment for lack of anything better to do at only about 11, and were buzzed just enough to actually WANT to play Scrabble (which Vladimir, suddenly comfortable around strangers, loped across and ruined, but it was OK because the board was locked up anyway) and write poetry by the light of my candle-filled fireplace. What follows is a whole lotta poetry by giggly me and buzzed boys.
S&G 1

The poetry, in order of occurence...

BUNNY RABBIT
by Brad Fitzpatrick, © 2001

Cute Bunny Rabbit
White.
Hopping.
Red Devil Eyes.

Why do you avoid my hay?
Hard I did work,
cutting it from the fields,
yet now you run.

Your hiding place.
Safe
Dark behind the auburn chair.
I know where you are.

But I respect you,
Stay safe,
The hay in mouth unforced.
I'll just run away.

My safe place.
My corner.
And now we look eye to eye.
One day, bunny.

***

HEARTBROKEN
by Brad

The red head.
That little punk.
Why does she prefer him?
Secret texts.

He reads.
Intently.
Complaining of spelling
Understanding it not himself.

Let's remove him.
Erased.
Nick who?
Now all is well.

The blue sweater.
Harboring warmth.
Purple flowers.
Dying slowly.

Is this what you want?
Everything?
Uncompleted.
Searching always.

***

Scrabble
by Nick

Words. Letters. Blocks.
No Vowels.
English.
Stupid language.
So many imaginary words.

Double points.
With a Z.
Neat!

Not my turn.
Waiting.
Do not use my space.
Still waiting.

At last
a time to spell
a time to score
Winning.

Games.
Do I fear losing?
Do I seek victory?
No.

***

DISSED
by Brad

Hurt.
Insinuations of 4-year-old behavior.
Tonight I'll cry.
Bed like an ocean of tears.

But I cannot swim,
Not tonight.
Sadness impairs my mobility in salty tears.
Sinking deeper.

Where are the mermaids tonight?
There will be no rescue now.
The ocean floor awaits.
The room spins.

Hope of recovery distant.
Who will pump all this water out?
Soggy walls.
Soggy heart.

Salt in arteries.
McDonald fries never so.
Steamboats goin nowhere,
An old arch overlooks.

From here I see everybody
And nobody.
Will they all treat me so?
Where's my blanket?

It's warm in there.
But lonely.
Again I cry myself to sleep.
Again I drown.

***

(And now, for haiku. Brad and Nick thought that my "modern" haiku, which doesn't stick to the general haiku rule of 5-7-5, was dumb. So we started writing "real" haiku.

***

Brad:
Fuck tha motern shit.
Five seven five iz da bomb.
Bitches, rephrazent.

Meg:
I don't like haiku
I cannot count to seven.
I must be SO DUMB.

Brad:
Who stole his wee brain?
Disassociative thoughts.
Pains of too much crack.

Nick:
Making fun of me
It makes me cry many tears
Fuck you, poetry!

Meg:
Hamburger helper
Bachelor food at dinner-time
Wish I had a wife.

Brad:
Lacking a penis,
Contemplating womanhood.
Wish I were a guy.

Meg:
Everything, nothing.
Thinking really hard about
Poetry bastards.

Brad:
Whoz da bastard, yo?
I'ze all about spitting rhymes.
Shit! Haiku don't rhyme.

Nick:
Not my turn again
Artistic Mutherfuckers
Poetry Bitch please!

Meg:
Quivering noses
Lethal hind legs, claws and teeth
Dracula bunnies!

Brad:
Megan Cassingham
How I do envy her so,
Wordier than I.

Nick:
Megan's Apartment
Keeper of the evil bunny
Forsaken Dwelling

Meg:
Late-night poetry
Litterbox among candles
It's so romantic!

Brad:
No candles on MAX
Disappointment returning.
Sweet fragrance now gone.

Nick:
Poor little bladder
Why must you pee so often?
Bathroom break again.

'Meg:
Amusement park rides
Are not nearly as much fun
As my blow-up bed.

Meg:
I don't mean to hate!
But it's just so easy, dear! (I changed that last syllable to protect the innocent Nick, ha)
You're so hateable.

(This one I wrote in Japanese characters after the one that Brad tried to write but didn't know any Japanese so he failed miserably. I'll just Romanize it since I can't type in characters.)
Meg:
Hai, suki desuka?
Iie, suki ja nai desu.
Ii, tenkidesu.
(Loosely translated, it carries this deep, prophetic meaning: "Yes, do you like it? No I do not like it. Good weather.")

Nick:
Hablo Espanol?
Me juevos es muy grande
Es un fiesta.

Meg:
Portlandia's up
The Willamette River's down.
I'm in the middle.

Meg:
Easter bunny's fake.
Watch me fuck a stewardess.
There's no Santa Claus.
(That's a joke from Gypsy... sorry if it made no sense. It did to us.)

Brad:
Incredible fun
Yet north I mus now return.
Homework death awaits.

***

What followed was a few crude cave wall drawings of large animals being shot with arrows, a picture of the cavemen's wheel which somehow turned into a deviled egg, and a big "paprika" scrawled over the unfortunate animals heads.
S&G 1

Oh yeah...

...forgot to say that when I tried to catch Vladimir last night, he drew blood. That's the first time he's ever done that before, and it was in front of guests. What an exasperating child. He got me with a claw, probably; right on my left thumb's joint. I bandaged it all night and now I'm trying to type with the bandage off so it'll dry out and it feels really odd.

The end.