I wonder what people did in New England before television and Facebook? I guess they read books to pass the slow winter hours… or wrote letters… or practiced the piano…
Category: Haste and leisure
“Blurtso shares a meal with friends”
“Blurtso looks at the cars” (I)
Look at all the cars,
and the people facing forward,
living in the future.
“Blurtso parrots Papa” (IV)
The terry-cloth towel hung from the hook to the left of the sink. It was stained with old blood that had dried and new blood that had not. The blade of the razor rested on a bar of soap and its handle rested on the sink. The basin was streaked with remnants of stubble and soap.
Nick returned to the kitchen when he heard the coffee. He turned off the flame and poured the thick liquid into a small cup. He added a teaspoon of sugar and stirred it with the spoon. He felt the salt air blow through the window. He could taste it on his lips.
Jim will be waiting, he thought, taking a sip from the cup. He was glad he had somewhere to go. Glad he had a reason to shave. He took another sip and picked at a crumb on the table. Any reason is enough, he thought.
“Blurtso watches the cars” (I)
Look at all those cars, hour after hour,
day after day, lifetime after lifetime.
“Blurtso parrots Papa” (II)
The people were standing until they sat down. The sunlight through the window was bright on the floor. It fell on the side of Jim’s shoe and cast a shadow on his other shoe.
A bell rang and a person he couldn’t see went somewhere he couldn’t see.
The dust on the floor remained on the floor and didn’t hang in the air. The people that were sitting began to lie down. The shadow from Jim’s shoe stretched to the cuff of his other leg.
A bell rang and a person he couldn’t see went somewhere he couldn’t see.
“Blurtso does Hamlet” (II)
Alas, poor Yorick, an excellent pie did he make.
“Alex does Richard III”
A donkey, a donkey! cried Alex. My kingdom for a donkey!
Tally-ho!!!
Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer
by “BlurtZo de la Brava Espada”…
“A friend in winter”
The wind is rising, said Pablo. Yes, said Blurtso, the wind of winter. It’s good to have a friend in winter, said Pablo. Yes, said Blurtso, very good.
“Blurtso does Hamlet”
To eat, or not to eat,
—that is the question—
whether ‘tis sounder for the stomach
to suffer the pricks and pangs
of outrageous hunger and resist,
—and by resisting, shrink this swollen shape—
or to indulge, and then sleep,
for after that indulgence, the sleep that’s
sure to follow spawns decrease of increase,
and makes of energy lethargy’s fool;
to eat, and sleep, and fatten as we dream!
Ay, there’s the rub; for in that fatness of form
what dangers may lie—the
hypertensive extinction, the diabetic
demise—must give us pause to consider
the view of a sugary grave;
yet what burro would not exchange
a future pleasure aloof,
for a present pleasure ahoof?
‘Tis a consumption devoutly to be wished,
when one of his stomach might its quietus make
with a baked pumpkin!
Thus do cravings make cowards of us all,
sugaring over the dieting hue of resolution
with sweet-scented cinnamon
and graham-cracker crust, and with this,
best intentions turn awry, losing,
in the act of consuming, the name of action.