local architecture

This magnificent house in one of the neighborhoods in my corner of the world deserves a haiku, no? It’s magnificent and marvelous.

oh, house on the hill,
with your quaint and mystery,
kindly let me in.

Haiku? Thank You. #4

There will be haikus, yes, but first, a few updates. It’s been a while, Kitten Heel Marvel.

And heeeere come the bullets…

• So there was an earthquake on the East Coast yesterday. Yes, the preceding sentence was typed. An earthquake. On the East Coast. I happened to be at work, went through utter confusion and a few nervous breakdowns when it happened, and ran like the wind to get out of the building. Yes, the preceding sentence was typed. I ran. Like the wind. Later, much later, I learned that I should have stayed in the building and gotten under a desk. Somehow, getting out seemed natural. Anyway, following said earthquake, enter bedlam. It took me THREE HOURS to get home on the Metro and I learned the following: it’s not always Metro’s fault when chaos and/or mild disaster strikes. There are a lot of stubborn, unlistening, priggish, immature, ridiculous people out there. And most of them rode the Metro yesterday. Ugh.
• I got a new ‘do. And I loves it. It gave me a much-needed boost. Quite honestly, I’d been looking a bit like a wild-haired zombie lately. This happens. Going through the motions, stressed out, kinda blue—all of which do not inspire new hairdos and updating the looks. So I’m happy for the boost. I’m happy to be forced to maintain an actual style and removing the option of throwing on a headband and being done with it. So yay for little changes. And yay for a new stylist who listened to me, made some awesome suggestions, and gave me a great overall experience.
• Got to visit the bestie this past week for a nice respite and vacation. Tons of fun, lots of vacation eating, good, grand times. More updates on the trip itself will come on The Lonely Passport. I just have to say, if I haven’t said it before: I just adore the bestie. There’s really nothing like a good friend.
• Fall is in the air. Fall is in the air! I can feel it. The boots are coming…
• I’m writing. A lot. This is a good thing. I’m a weirdo, so I won’t elaborate on the plotting and characters and all that. Suffice it to say: I’m writing…
• I saw this movie:
• And cried like a baby. It was moving, touching, hilarious, thought-provoking, and dignified the book version. Absolutely wonderful.
• I also saw this movie:
• And loved it. Well done and thrilling popcorn fare. And Andy Serkis, the guy who does all the motion capture stuff for these movies, deserves more accolades for his work. Excellent.

Bullets end here. Just a tiny update on what’s been going on. Now, without further ado, a haiku (intentional rhyming). In honor of yesterday’s event:

earthquake

is that an earthquake?

feet failed me before, not now–

the new Flash Gordon.

Haiku? Thank You. #3

On this Haiku Wednesday, I decided to feature a haiku written by a certain poet. That noise you’re hearing, dear reader, is my contented sigh…

Japan by Billy Collins

Today I pass the time reading
a favorite haiku,
saying the few words over and over.

It feels like eating
the same small, perfect grape
again and again.

I walk through the house reciting it
and leave its letters falling
through the air of every room.

I stand by the big silence of the piano and say it.
I say it in front of a painting of the sea.
I tap out its rhythm on an empty shelf.

I listen to myself saying it,
then I say it without listening,
then I hear it without saying it.

And when the dog looks up at me,
I kneel down on the floor
and whisper it into each of his long white ears.

It’s the one about the one-ton temple bell
with the moth sleeping on its surface,

and every time I say it, I feel the excruciating
pressure of the moth
on the surface of the iron bell.

When I say it at the window,
the bell is the world
and I am the moth resting there.

When I say it at the mirror,
I am the heavy bell
and the moth is life with its papery wings.

And later, when I say it to you in the dark,
you are the bell,
and I am the tongue of the bell, ringing you,

and the moth has flown
from its line
and moves like a hinge in the air above our bed.

Haiku? Thank you. #2

leave

an interesting hope

that dashed quickly to the ground.

time to leave it be

me

i do this always,

these delusions of grandeur.

come back to earth, me.

alone

return to the start.

alone again, naturally,

the solo shadow.

man

remember dashed hopes?

please don’t reach out to me, man–

can’t have it both ways.

Haiku? Thank you. #1

New

a hearty welcome,

new boy on the horizon.

no more quiet time.

Healthy

food that is healthy

never tastes that good to me

but I must suffer

Spring

my dearest springtime,

when i ache and thirst for change—

you bring allergies.

Writing

my muse goes away

on extended vacations

no return address.