Experimenting with Roman numerals , day Xiii

The best bit of writing so far today ... author unknown :

... surgically repaired left big toe .

5 words strung magically to form a wonderfully scintillating sentence ! Enjoy the day .

Experimenting with Roman numerals , day V+V+double I

The following is a review on the soon released movie from Flex-I-ped Pictures , Mister Pill .

Warren Warmong’s view on selfishness is complete in this , his masterpiece breakthrough movie , that no other construct on it is required . It is a done deal . The movie is Mister Pill and it is Warmong’s first full length directorial effort .

At first , it is hard for us to understand what is so bad about Mister Pill , played by newcomer Harmon Puiser ; but the fearful glances of his staff at the office start us to wondering . At his Spartan home, a dark empty place , the staff of one is seen sitting stiffly in a white kitchen -- the only room of the house with any light and any furnishings .

His all consuming selfishness is displayed in an extremely anal means when he puts out a birdfeeder and sits with a glass of wine to watch the birds flock in and feed . The trees on the property are set well away from the high walls and every season as the trees grow higher , the wall is stacked higher to stop the neighbors from enjoying their loveliness . Finished with his glass , Pill collects the remaining bird seed and hides it away . If he isn’t around to watch the pretty songbirds then they won’t be allowed to eat the seed that he provides .

When Pill holds on office party , a troupe of children from the neighborhood , held to bay outside of a tall block wall , are employed to bring couches and stuffed chairs out of a spacious dance hall . The same hall that is only ever used by the lord of the manor . He hires a girl just for the evening that the hall is empty of chairs and with a stool and a set of glasses and a pitcher of water -- brought in by the lone servant who is then dismissed for the night (presumably so she cannot have the opportunity to enjoy any of the opulent furnishings) -- the two spend a short evening dancing , sipping at water , and we never see if anything further happens . But we do see the woman leaving ; is it early morning before the sun is up or late evening with a backdrop of streetlamps thronged by gnats ? Flipping through a stack of bills , she doesn’t appear overjoyed by the amount of the payoff and turns to knock angrily at the front door , but thinks better of it and storms off . Her employer , pimp? , probably will learn of it .

We gradually begin to piece together the story of a selfish man who has driven every person that loved him -- he has loved no one -- away by his pettiness . His office staff is ever rotating , but he is fine with that because it keeps the payroll low . His longtime assistant is a pudgy little man who has no life and suffers through the long days for little pay . But the work is not demanding , his boss rarely speaks to him but leaves post-it notes almost everywhere . Murly , the assistant , picks up a lean envelope of twenties every Friday and spends his weekend at the bowling alley , where he leisurely bowls game after game and downs one mug of beer after another for hours at a time . He is friendly with everyone he crosses but never has a meaningful conversation . He eyes the other patrons , makes an effort with the snack bar girls , but always bowls solo and leaves the alley alone . We wonder if he saves enough money out of the envelope for rent or sustenance for the following week .

The director , Warmong , shoots the scenes in a very muted tone , almost black and white , and from a low position , especially when Mister Pill is the subject . The sets are nothing special . They are extreme boredom . Even when Pill allows his house to be comfortable it is not inviting . Pill is filmed from the angle of a chair sitter while the office staff lingering with glasses of champagne is filmed from behind a lofty staircase or a chandelier . The furnishing is deeply colored and stands out garishly to the blank walls and pale wooden trim of the grand staircase where Mister Pill spends much of his time sipping a glass of something he has poured for himself from a hidden reservoir .

The ending is fast and unforgiving , but we aren’t really surprised , just shaken by the violence and then saddened for the players that are left behind to live with their preordained actions . No court could find them innocent , even if justice was undoubtedly served .
Warmong has a style reminiscent of the old French masters , from the odd angles to the restless postures and lone performances . Very rarely are two actors seen on screen together -- everybody seems to be alone , especially in the presence of Pill . He seems to separate everyone from himself and the force emanates from his person and affects everything and everyone around him . Even at the dinner table everything seems to stand alone . Nothing ever touches . The dance scene may be the only exception (other than the ending ), and it is by contrast a stark visual moment ; almost glutinous .

If this is any indication of Warren Warmong’s movie prowess , then I am looking forward to his next effort , but hoping for a more lively and engaging story . While this movie is thoughtful and very well acted and filmed , it left me wanting for a ending just a bit less despairing . Walking out of the theatre into the bright afternoon was a contradiction that took a few moments to get my head around … immediately I ducked into a neighboring coffee shop and sought the darkest corner so I could slowly warm to the optimism that the day promised . Better to see this one as a matinee , folks , then to leave the theatre dark and cold and shivering in the car on the way home , even when the night is warm and muggy .

Experimenting with Roman numerals , day XI

We join this review in progress….

…painting said to be brushed with eucalyptus leaves . If that is so , then it appears that the artist chewed the leaves along with a deep red Chianti , then vomited onto the canvas -- gobs of reddish pulp . It was a fine example of Glorp art . Cutting edge , maybe , but would you hang it on your wall ? The painting may be an original K’Narpol , but I don’t see the Louvre making a bid for it .
Remember , Jonas K’Narpol was the first of his age to render “Dogs Playing Poker” . The story goes , he actually envisioned common working servants relaxing in the kitchen and playing games with table scraps . Considering that a bit mundane he went with costumed dogs instead -- the dogs representing the working class , and later the upper crust -- by following generations of painters -- as the dogs became better dressed and smoked cigars and had their own servants : usually cats or a scantily clad beer wench .

Untitled , by K'Narpol .

Obviously , K’Narpol was an artist ahead of his time , even beating out Warhol by several hundred years when he painted Copernicus using a pixilated pattern of galaxy clusters surrounded by the depiction of uncorked absinth bottles . His smiling sister Lisa , an early work that hung over his mother’s headboard until her death , was eerily enigmatic , and a stranger picture of clouds melting onto a faceless man’s bowling hat also seemed to foreshadow later artists’ works .

Coincidence or plagiarism ? Most art historians say the former because , it seems , K’Narpol was never a popular artist and until this late date never formally discovered . While his works are now eagerly sought after , they until recently never left the artist’s studio or the walls of his mother’s home . More than 200 K’Narpols have since been catalogued and the majority have been compared favorably to the peers of his age, the familiar masters of the era : Rembrandt , Aardvark , XJS , LaTrek , Kirk and Dr. Spock .

Flower in Progression, #1

Mr. Man , Guy , that celebrity so-sayer , says of Jonas , “With a name like K’Narpol he ought to be awful ; you know , bad . But he’s good ! We particularly enjoy his fruit period .” Guy’s only complaint is a lack of decent framing , as many K’Narpols come without . “A great painting shows even greaterness by how it’s framed , and there is a certain lack of closure knowing that K’Narpol never considered this end , this punctuation .

The lack has saddened Mr. Man , it seems . * Flower in Progression, #2

Most critics disagree with Guy Man . One deduced that K’Narpol worked to a beat , with a full drum kit and a pierced head hunter .

Whatever the setting , Jonas K’Narpol left no noted or eyewitnesses ; he must have led a startling nondescript life . It is possible that his models never even realized they were being painted . Perhaps he arted by memory . That would make his pieces that much more amazing . They’re cool ; they’re neat ; they’re worth a look . Go see-um and look too .

*Ask Guy .
Guy Man , Mr. Man , is not in reality a man but a panel of sea creatures . Namely they are cuttlefish , plankton , and a sea anemone . The panel is learned and traveled and currently reside in a flat overlooking a loft occupied by a yeti who actually knows a wealthy woman with an apartment and a terrific view of Central Park . She prefers hairy men , not so much wetslimyinvertebrates . FlowerProgression, #3

Experimenting with Roman numerals , day X

according to the garden gurus , July is a good time to divide the iris's , and since it is now August , i guess it's probably too late .


But my irises are a bit overgrown , that is to say they are spreading out in ways i don't appreciate , which is to admit that to tell the truth , i don't really think much of my irises and i think "forget dividing the irises" ; maybe perhaps I'll just rip them out and be done with it .




Have you got any of these irises ? Ripping them out is not as easy as it sounds ... but it is easier then changing the air filter in a late model vehicle .


so here i went tonite ripping and digging and moving rocks out of the way and ripping and digging and etcetera with the ripping and such and i imagine i didn't get it all and I'll probably be seeing some more irises next year ... but that is OK .


next i looked over to the weeping mulberry and William Shakespeare's head peeped out at me and said "What ho !" I gotta tell you , that tree could hide a multitude of dead playwrights . It is a young tree , but really getting a head on its shoulders . No kidding , it's going to town !

I thought it might be nice if i could see its trunk and maybe some of plants over its roots ... so i started to give it a little haircut , and so the story unfolds :

'clip clip clip' , that's the pruner .

'hey , this is one long branch' : me .

'hi-O , Tom ; that's a ten four but not your buddy-fuddy-wuddy' : that was a little man that lives in my garden and he sings , mostly when it is raining , and he plants weeds in places that are hard to get at .

'oh , hi , little man , i haven't seen you at all this summer ., only your weeds ; what other mischief have you been up to ?'

'ha ha , you say that like it's a common misconception that i am from planet eleven , Willameena Rubby Rubby , caught your cold ! I put a weed behind that big bush !'

'You devil ! that bush in the corner ? Do you know how hard it will be to get back there and pick that weed ?'

'Emmee weenie ! One hot dog for my post bunny...funny . Fresh ! And it's a thistle , too , you whamalammathingammer ! Buddy buddy , who got ya muddy !???'

'Why a thistle ?' i hate thistle. 'You know I'm going to have to spray that ... those things are hell on wheels ... ' , of course they are spreading constantly from the neighbor's yards .

'looney , ka-floony , watch out my mama-wamma has a waffle and she's not afraid to use it , loose it : sick 'em fido -- hey , get a goat !'

'Thanks for the advice .' sure , all i need is a goat that will eat my garden , and probably leave the thistle .

then it started to sprinkle a little , which isn't all bad , because the lawn is turning brown . Of course , it wasn't good either , as the little man only knows one song and that's 'Tiny Bubbles' by Don Ho . http://www.blogger.com/www.youtube.com/watch?v=_MXgc8wzfC4&feature=related

Shakespeare tries to stuff mulberry leaves into his ears , but it's hard to do with no hands , and he says , "egads , methinks the imp doth protest too much !"

Experimenting with Roman numerals , day V + V subtract I

I apologize for all the stupid stuff .

I've been talking to some people , or maybe they are imaginary people , but they have the craziest ideas about living .

You know how some people will say about other people , "They're kind of different," ? well , according to these people i have communication with , EVERYBODY says that about everybody else .

yea , yea , i know ! It's true . So take a step back and try to look at yourself from some whacko's side of the street and see what they see .

My splenic nerve has been in constant communication with me for 14 years , now . It speaks to me mostly in dark places ; it makes me see fruit bowls in odd circumstances . Sometimes there are monkeys , too , and they are always throwing the fruit into corners and wearing wooden bowls over their heads , so i can never see their eyes .

Also , i'm thinking of trading in my lawn mower for a goat . Not for the reason you're thinking of , though .

Not that i don't care about the environment , or gas prices , or the exercise issues : Of course all those things are imp-ortant.

Here's the best reason : To annoy the neighbors ! The same neighbors who play loud music and let their dogs bark all night and poop on your lawn . The neighbors who party too late and set off fireworks when you are asleep and park in your spot and throw beer bottles over the fence . The neighbors who are unfriendly to the point of not only not smiling and waving and borrowing a cup of sugar , but instead they spew foul language and exude foul odors and steal your newspaper .

I'm not sure how a goat will upset this sort of person , so it's a stupid idea . Never mind .

I like potato chips . It has got to stop . But what is a good substitute for potato chips ? I ask you ; i ask all my friends , all my imaginary earthly cohabitants . What is better than a chip ?

Nothing .

pathetic .. that's all for that .

... these are some monsters that i know . They enjoy sitting and veging and being lit up .

Experimenting with Roman numerals , day IIX

There is a place , somewhere , where everybody has but the one finger and they can curl it around and point it and make it do all sorts of things that mean all sorts of different things . In that place they point at one another's faces and wiggle their finger . In that place they can itch a scratch or pick a nose . In that place dialing a phone still isn't easy , but everyone has push button these days ...


That place is a sad place ; having one finger makes it awfully hard to write a poem .


Another worm poem , because this blog is for the worms :

On a day full of menace the clouds cast a gray
Pall oer the lawn of a trim wormette called Fey
That crawled past the shoots of grass tall as the pines
From the nor‘ western woods ere fond away times…
A year ago spawned of slime eggs under dirt
That she squirmed away from and topside as alert
As a newborn could be she denied that blue jay
Until now, season’s hence, a feast on her birthday…
Sweet, sweet
Bon appetit


Today may count as a continuation of the last post , as it may possibly be stupid , but I am recently having a problem distinguishing between stupid and unstupid .

Experimenting with Roman numerals , day VII .

I think I will just write some things that are stupid , then maybe comment on the stupidiousness of the things .


I'm pretty sure that I can come up with something relatively stupid .


As for toads , they are surely obnoxious and there ought to be a rule against allowing them access to the public libraries .


I know , I know ; seeing eye dogs ARE allowed inside of public buildings , as long as they are actually leading blind people around , but not if they are playing Frisbee with the kids . I have NEVER heard of a seeing eye toad , or frog .


However , if the toads can actually read , then an exception might be made . This could be left to the discretion of the librarian . Now , that is pretty much settled .


Speaking of libraries , why can't they offer more books that I might want to read . Often I go in and just can't be motivated to pick up a book . Maybe there should be more pamphlets because they are lighter and quick to read . At night you could have your snack and brush your teeth then read your pamphlet and fall asleep . It is too much trouble to open up a book of a lot of pages then be too tired to read more then a paragraph when you look ahead and see the next chapter is two or three pages away and your eye lids are drooping and 'oh hell , Jughead will still be there tomorrow , zzzz .' More pamphlets , and maybe some bubblegum cards . And funny horoscopes and obituaries for fake people and little dogs , too .


And little dogs are more convenient than the bigger ones for lots of reasons . #1 : little dogs eat less and can't jump up and knock a person over just because they walk in the front door . Big dogs on the other hand can not only lick your face when you are standing up , they can also grab your burger right off the counter top or even off the grill . And if they can do that they can take your car keys off the top of the fridge and drive around .


#2 reason is not required because #1 reason is enough for never , ever needing to have a big dog , unless you are a farmer and need a big dog to eat more of the food that you a growing , which will help to increase prices to us consumers , and also so the big dog can drive the tractors around .

And #3 reason isn't really sufficient . There you have it , 3 reasons for having a little dog ; I'll be thinking there might be more , comments are welcome from little dog haters who just hate the littler dogs because they are little . I know you are out there , little haters !

Do you hate vomit ? Many people have phobias ; some are afraid of tall things or being enclosed by cardboard boxes . I am phobic of spiders jumping off the ceiling onto my head , or out of boxes onto my head , or off of tall things onto my head , and vomit . Also , i will never leave my socks out doors because a spider would probably get into my socks and then jump onto my head at some conveniant moment .


O.K. No more supid stuff today , don't want to use it all up at once .

Here's another sort of stupid cartoon instead ; sorry if it's not as stupid as the rest , I got tired .