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Michael Manner and I were English majors at Plattsburgh State before the days of email, before the days of the fax. Indeed, the modern technology of the time was floppy disk computers, and the CD was quickly replacing the cassette tape. Manner and I have kept in touch through the years and when we are together we often argue and bicker like a married couple about love, fear, greed, envy, lust, hypocrisy, music, cats v. dogs, words et al. I think the only thing we ever seem to agree on is that chocolate milk is the greatest invention ever. But enough about me, Manner is a freelance computer consultant living with his mangy, blind cat in Williamsburg Brooklyn, NY. His love of poetry dates back to when dinosaurs roamed the earth and he first heard the words “ugga bugga” uttered by a passing Neanderthal woman. He’s been writing verse since the Iron Age and one day hopes to be cited in the OED. His fave comic book hero is Batman. Despite all this I think is is a truly talented poet and have asked him to post some poems on this blog. You be his judge.
Spill the molten crust.
Spill – Spill vaporic waste.
What slaughters sea beneath a falling crawl –
what burns what cannot burn.
What cracks black and orange like conquered flesh.
What spews bile becomes soil – scarring the offing
Behind smoke white as the whale. There is no difference –
Both create – both destroy – what lives dies. All is wasted;
And all either stone or mist.
Michael Manner and I were English majors at Plattsburgh State before the days of email, before the days of the fax. Indeed, the modern technology of the time was floppy disk computers, and the CD was quickly replacing the cassette tape. Manner and I have kept in touch through the years and when we are together we often argue and bicker like a married couple about love, fear, greed, envy, lust, hypocrisy, music, cats v. dogs, words et al. I think the only thing we ever seem to agree on is that chocolate milk is the greatest invention ever. But enough about me, Manner is a freelance computer consultant living with his mangy, blind cat in Williamsburg Brooklyn, NY. His love of poetry dates back to when dinosaurs roamed the earth and he first heard the words “ugga bugga” uttered by a passing Neanderthal woman. He’s been writing verse since the Iron Age and one day hopes to be cited in the OED. His fave comic book hero is Batman. Despite all this I think is is a truly talented poet and have asked him to post some poems on this blog. You be his judge.
The Counsel
Not just when I’m alone (all one),
but during sunset on the beach - for instance.
As if the counsel is innate within us all -
avoiding the full appreciation
of perfection’s instant -
is profligate.
A sophisticated regret flows
towards the absence of her hand,
or my arms around her waist,
any waist really,
Because the light,
the sky’s nacred shell, and the mythology of the ocean
and its depths
will be gone in minutes.
And the memory, without having tangible reference, will be as subtle as the ache.
We are already half way to May and it just dawned on me that April is National Poetry Month. Last year you may remember the OUP blog featured the Buffalo Poets (an unruly band of anarchists and beer swillin’ poets, i.e. friends of mine). and while I adore the Buffalo Poets and their continuing mission to bring poetry to the masses with their NYC area readings, I have decided it might be nice to hear from another one of my poet friends who has a completely different style of writing this year. Michael Manner and I were English majors in a state school in Upstate NY before the days of email, before the days of the fax. Indeed, the modern technology of the time was floppy disk computers, and the CD was quickly replacing the cassette tape.
Manner and I have kept in touch through the years and when we are together we often argue and bicker like a married couple about love, fear, greed, envy, lust, hypocrisy, music, cats v. dogs, words et al. I think the only thing we ever seem to agree on is that chocolate milk is the greatest invention ever. But enough about me, Manner is a freelance computer consultant living with his mangy, blind cat in Williamsburg Brooklyn, NY. His love of poetry dates back to when dinosaurs roamed the earth and he first heard the words “ugga bugga” uttered by a passing Neanderthal woman. He’s been writing verse since the Iron Age and one day hopes to be cited in the OED. His fave comic book hero is Batman. Despite all this I think is is a truly talented poet and have asked him to post some poems on this blog. You be his judge.
Lust
It seminates from the chill of dawn.
Cast from bell buoy to shore
Through an otherwise silent fog.
Boil, Breach and Boom
Between the fetch and shiver.
We pant in the swell
And melt into sand and spume.
Candle-bloom dusk coils into night.
Settling into tranquil certainty, drifting
in the after flash –
when clouds hide in November and
raindrops fall like parachutes.
For today, I put "Harlequin Valentine" up at last FM for free. (The reading from Telling Tales, not the one from Fragile Things.) I'll kkep it downloadable for a few more days.
A cautionary tale about dealing with Hollywood studios, (Disney, in this case, bt it could be any of them) and a lesson that needs repeating over and again. There will be no net profit. Ever. A movie could have cost two million to make and grossed two hundred million and it will still never show a profit.
Got this from a friend of mine and supposedly it's the leak of a draft or outline (or whatever they call it) of a nerd thriller by Neil Gaiman, written under the pen name 'Rian Sato', as he wanted to take this into a direction somewhat different from his other writing (kind of like the Stephen King - Richard Bachmann deal).
Some intern at Gaiman's agency (Writer's something, forgot the name friend told me) was tasked to read through the text again for any obviously British English diction conflicting with Rian Sato's assumed American persona (guess they were well stocked with coffee at the moment and nothing needed to be xeroxed), but instead nabbed the file, took it home and then bragged about it online on some messageboard. Of course nobody believed him, intern threw a fit, board responded "POST PROOF OR STFU" and then the dude really posted the file. When everybody started ridiculing him for the danger he put himself in and serious screw-up he committed, he got scared and pulled the file again while begging everyone not to share it, but...
...well, here it is.
Which is kind of funny in a dozen different that's-not-how-the-world-works ways, but mostly seems a rather sad and desperate attempt by someone to get their book read. ("Haha! You liked it when you thought it was by Neil Gaiman, but really it is by me!")
At the Stardust afterparty I ran into someone who looked exactly like Mark Millar did the last time I saw him, only this gentleman was about, oh, 17 years older. He writes about the fun he had at http://forums.millarworld.tv/index.php?showtopic=73753&st=0
Over at http://www.quickstopentertainment.com/category/comics-in-context/ Peter Sanderson is now four essays in to his dissection of The Eternals. I think my favourite moments of these essays (as an author) are the bits where I read something Peter says and think "I didn't expect anyone ever to notice that." My second-favourite bits are the moments where I go, "Oh. I never thought of that. Bugger."
Oh, and a word from our sponsor: my short story collection Fragile Things is now out in paperback, with an Olive-and-dayglo-Orange-coloured cover.
(And on Amazon, I just noticed the Audiofile review of the Fragile Things audiobook I'd never seen before, which I am posting here because I'm much nervous about my reading than I am about my writing, and a review like this one made me grin.
Master storyteller Neil Gaiman begins this collection by introducing many of the stories, his introduction proving to be a story in its own right. Gaiman's performance aptitude matches his writing ability, as each tale resonates with subtlety and insight. Every character, no matter how brief his or her appearance, receives impeccable attention vocally and textually. And every word of narrative shines. Listeners new to Gaiman will be surprised by the variety of literary genres in this collection, from fairy tales to crime to romance and even science fiction. Gaiman steps nimbly through each, offering a shadow of meaning here, a barely perceptible nuance there, a punch of anger or a featherbed of sweetness where needed, leading his audience through 10 hours of the best listening of the year. R.L.L. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award
There.)
0 Comments on Leftovers mostly as of 10/9/2007 11:01:00 AM
