Valentine's Day Redux

I wrote a Valentine's Day blog a few years ago that I liked.  I'm reposting it here for your enjoyment. 

You see, today I was overwhelmed by the vomit inducing commercials and such for this wicked of wicked days.  This put me in a foul mood, so I ate like a pig and felt sorry for myself. 

So to make amends for my naughtiness, I'm annoucing it publically so that I will shame myself into not doing it again. 

And without further ado, here is my old blog post:

The coming day of darkness


Valentines Day...has ever there been 2 words that I find more distressing with every passing year. If you tried to guess why, you're probably right.



When I was younger it seemed so harmless. There are the heart shaped candy, which never tasted great but were fun to read. I've always enjoyed reading and eating, so I thought they weren't too bad. I also rather liked the cards we gave out at school. Who knew what cartoon character or celebrity would be wishing me the best of love.



When the cards stopped coming the day quickly lost it's appeal. I still enjoy the cards in stores, especially the ones for the kiddies, but that's where it ends. Maybe it was that 2 of my former girlfriends thought January was a great month to ditch me, making February rather lonely. Who knows?



- There are 120 single men (i.e., never married, widowed or divorced) who are in their 20s for every 100 single women of the same ages.(odds are against me)


- 2.2 million marriages take place in the United States annually. That breaks down to more than 6,000 a day. (I've never liked weddings)


- 54- 57% of American women and men, respectively, are 15 or older and currently married (includes those who are separated).(sure, rub it in)

- There were 22,022 florists nationwide in 2003. These businesses employed 113,270 people. (so on the bright side it brings employment)


Maybe Valentines Day came from a Roman traditon. "To begin the festival, members of the Luperci, an order of Roman priests, would gather at the sacred cave where the infants Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome, were believed to have been cared for by a she-wolf or lupa. The priests would then sacrifice a goat, for fertility, and a dog, for purification. The boys then sliced the goat's hide into strips, dipped them in the sacrificial blood and took to the streets, gently slapping both women and fields of crops with the goathide strips. Far from being fearful, Roman women welcomed being touched with the hides because it was believed the strips would make them more fertile in the coming year. Later in the day, according to legend, all the young women in the city would place their names in a big urn. The city's bachelors would then each choose a name out of the urn and become paired for the year with his chosen woman. These matches often ended in marriage." Thanks for the info History Channel! This is a sorta gross sounding event, but I think I'd like it more then what we have now.


So, right now the only plus for me not ever having a Valentine of Valentine's Day is nobody gives me chocolates. I'm not fond of chocolate, never was.


~Dickon

Something so wondeful gone horribly awry

This is the second blog that I've written around the midnight hour.  It's not recommended.  See, things that I find fun and interesting now, probably aren't so fun when looked at with the benefit of a good nights sleep.


Well, it's time to share my poetic side.


The first poem was written for my good friend Amanda.  She worked on Thanksgiving day cleaning dishes.  Not exactly festive I thought.  So, I wrote her this:


Amanda's Poem




The sweet Amanda is like no other
spent Thanksgiving working at The Muddy Rudder
Everyone thought the food was delicous
while she was back there cleaning dishes.
You know she's a living Cinderella story
scrubing up from the chicken cacciatore.
It's such a treat to talk to her online.
If she was a tumor, she would be benign
She touches me deeply, when inclined,
like a proctologist friend of mine


I rather liked how it turned out, and yet, when I recited it to my Mom, she had concerns about the ending.

Then tonight I shared this story with my cousin Mal.  She offered some wonderful insight(as well as supplying the delectable word "deploring " for part 2).  So now without further ado,  I give unto you Part 2!


Amanda's Poem Part 2



I faced my mothers deploring gaze
once she read that final turn of phrase.
This ditty while just a simple lark
had been colored by the last remark.
To my cousin I then related
this story of becoming berated.
She then said to ignore this censure
for my Mom isn't always so pure!
See, Mum's boggle score became affluent
by brazenly spelling "flatulent".


Why must I write these things you ask?  I answer with my own question.  If I don't, then who will?


As a bonus I'll share one of my chicken poems.  Sure you probably heard it before, but it's free so stop complaining.


The Chicken Scratches on My Heart



Beautiful chicken that I doth see
Remember when we met down at KFC?
It was you who brought me out of my shell
and now I have fallen under your spell
When you left me I was like a capon
Sad and sterile with no reason to go on
I lost my pluck, my feet only shuffle
what did I do to cause your feathers to ruffle?
My mouth waters when I smell you near
and your even better with chip and root beer
Come to me, my fowl of perfection
You warm me up just like an infection

Dickon's guide for the brain fried.

Sometimes it can be too much. You know it. I know it. That guy over there knows it. How can I cope when my world is fragile and it's so windy outside?

Well, I'm glad I asked. It's a interesting question. I mean, daily life can be vexing. Quite often I wonder what other people do to unwind. Maybe I should ask those other people. I usually don't ask. OK, I never ask. It seems too intimate a question. That's a special time. Not something to be exposed to some uncaring and crass individual.(If you happen to be uncaring and crass, stop reading now. The rest of you, keep reading but watch out for those other guys.)

Here's what I do. First I take a deep breath because I'm not sure I want share my private time with you. I mean, what have you done for me lately?...Oh? Well, in that case I guess I should tell you.

I remember hearing once "Music soothes the savage beast". Well, that's just not true. The quote actually is:

"Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak." -William Congreve.

When I found this out, the quote was much more exciting. I mean, who would want to be mauled by a savage breast? The only possible hope of shelter from this barbaric storm is by listening to some of my favorite songs.

Some of my favorite songs:

1. Light & Day- The Polyphonic Spree(I recommend watching the video from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind that goes with it)

2. Yume no Shima Shinen Kouen - Susumu Hirasawa(I have no idea what the words mean, but it's beautiful)

3. Palms of my Hands-Million Year Echo(who is that magnificent singer?)

4. Change-Blind Melon(everyone loves this song. I just decided that)

5. Tranquilize-The Killers(maybe just hearing the title helps me relax)

There you have it. The first step. I would tell you more, but after listening to these songs I'm just too unwound. Sleep is my next venture.

Do you have any songs that you listen to, when the breast tempest is raging?

giving peas a chance,

Dickon