Monday, April 17, 2017

Seasonal Anime Dropping Party: Spring 2017

My quadriannual ritual where I give new anime the three-scene rule.

FRAME ARMS GIRL
Apparently it's a card game anime or something.
DROPPED

SHINGEKI NO KYOJIN S2
The OP sucks, and the OP is the only reason to watch this.
DROPPED

GRANBLUE FANTASY
Lots of lights and sounds. A girly friendship or something. I don't care.
DROPPED

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

William Carlos Williams, with punctuation added and line breaks removed

According to Brueghel, when Icarus fell it was spring. A farmer was ploughing his field. The whole pageantry of the year was awake, tingling, near the edge of the sea, concerned with itself, sweating in the sun that melted the wings’ wax. Unsignificantly off the coast there was a splash, quite unnoticed; this was Icarus drowning.

So much depends upon a red wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater beside the white chickens.

I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox, and which you were probably saving for breakfast. Forgive me. They were delicious, so sweet and so cold.

A stand of people by an open grave underneath the heavy leaves celebrates the cut and fill for the new road, where a man on his knees reaps a basketful of matted grasses for his goats.

It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set match it it in the back yard. Those fleas that escaped earth and fire died by the cold.

Thursday, April 6, 2017

Undated poem, recovered from an old water-damaged notebook (poss. Oct-Nov 2011)

King Arthur's prophet Merlin
Once moved backwards in time, as we
once met the prophets' King
Met him backwards, first the stern,
Red, Terrible Redeemer
As he dons the robes of Armageddon
Overwhelming and swift, next
Meet the Lord in glory returning keys
Last powers and strength
Then watch the Lord withdraw
And from a distance steal your toil
Shoulder your burdens, lift your labors
Exalt you quietly. But the promise said,
Fire, and water, and the Spirit, as
miracles become commonplace
a freshly resurrected Lord
closely guides his apostles' acts
move quick, step fast, of course
this time would come
the grove's ahead
now walk softly, past sleeping apostles,
to Judgment Day.

Saturday, April 1, 2017

N-Words: When Your Metaphor Gets Away From You


Writing parables is a tricky business. No metaphor can survive intense scrutiny; if it could it wouldn't be a metaphor. When you do write parables it's good to write parables that don't undermine your point.

As part of an ongoing quest to locate a very strange short story I read in 2012 I've been getting my hands on various contemporary SFF short story collections. A story titled "N-Words," by Ted Kosmatka, caught my eye; I found it in Hartwell and Cramer's Year's Best SF 14.

It's told mainly in flashback, beginning with a funeral surrounded by protesters, cast from the Westboro Baptist division of the Straw Christian Agency. The narrator's sister wonders aloud what kind of people could do this sort of thing, and the narrator thinks to herself that you'd be surprised. This is a story about racism, and stories about racism are never about obvious racism. Kosmatka wants to make a point about real-life racism. This is important.