Today's Lunchtime Confection

The title of this journal entry refers to the fact that I wrote this poem today at lunch. Yes, I know I pushed my luck on both the rhyme and the meter in a few places. 

It's tough to get a good picture of Tuffy after sunset, with or without flash, but here are the two best attempts.  With flash, she's got those annoying greenish-white circles in her eyes, which can't really be filled in well.  Without flash, the picture comes out pretty dark.  Brightening the image only does so much, and results in wonky colors. 

Oh, and by the way, Tuffy is standing up in the poem. - Karen

The Mooch

Don't forget the dog! she begs,
With her anxious doggie eyes.
Her tail's almost behind her legs;
She'll flee from any loud surprise.

She knows exactly where she stands:
Next to her desired reward.
She gazes at my empty hands,
So close to the admired cupboard.

Her tail waves slowly side to side.
She smiles her anxious doggie smile.
I reach in, give her hopes a ride,
So she'll be happy for awhile.

"A while" is measured by the time
She's taking her small prize away,
Because she fears the doggie crime
Of theft should she just eat and stay.

She chews and swallows, and looks around
For any still-uneaten crumbs;
And when there are none to be found,
Then back to me my Tuffy comes.

More, please! my greedy doggie pleads.
Can't you see I'm starving here?
I sigh, and give her one more treat,
Because she is my doggie dear!

KFB, 10/24/05

I'm running on fumes tonight.  Last night I drove back to the office at 10 PM, and stayed so late that I surprised a night watchman. Then I blogged some more.  Am I insane? When I look at the clock and realize that four hours of sleep is no longer possible, that's beyond the pale, even for me!

Voting for the VIVI awards begins Tuesday morning, so instead of going to bed early I've started to make the rounds of the nominees in categories other than my own.  I've definitely seen some good journals with which I was previously unfamiliar, some of which I'll probably add to my alerts - later, when I'm feeling less overwhelmed.  So far, nothing has displaced one of my faves as the one I'll vote for, but it's early yet.  That may well happen, especially in categories in which I don't have a strong favorite. 

Thanks to everyone who has stopped by and posted congratulations, especially those of you who have started reading Meet Joshua Wander.  That means a lot to me.  If I don't post congratulatory comments in every nominated blog myself, I hope you'll all forgive me.  I'm not ignoring you, truly!  I'm happy for us all.  It's just that I really, really need to avoid taking on any more obligations right now, even the "obligation" to comment.  But I will look at every nominated journal, and give it a fair read.

Karen

Click here for links to more of my fiction and poetry.

That Unforgettable Trip

Just a slight exaggeration here....

Oh, that day?
Yes, I remember!
It was in August
(Perhaps November).
We went to Norco
(Perhaps Pomona),
And while at Denny's,
We used the phone, uh...
Who was the guy
That gave us the tip,
Who helped us to make
Our unauthorized trip?
We called him Deep Tram,
But was his name Mike?
Then we drove out and found
Scott's car (and his bike?);
He was just coming in
(Or going on break?);
I remember that moment
Quite well - no mistake!
The nicest tv star
I ever had met.
Yes, that was a day
I'll never forget!

KFB, 10/24/05

Links to more poetry and fiction

My Teen-Aged Alienation Comes Back to Haunt You

(Don't worry - the fiction entry will be posted later tonight. I just haven't written it yet.)

In a fit of inspiration and jealousy, I've decided to double up on the entries for a little while, so I can post some poetry without interfering with my usual scheduled variety. 

This first one is at least 30 years old.  I've never been able to find a copy of it from all those years ago, so I've pieced it together from memory, and perhaps improved it a bit.  Be assured that I no longer feel as alienated now as I did then - most of the time!  But there are moments, even after all these years, when I still feel like an outsider, looking in at people who don't know I'm there.

Window Taps

Do you see it?
That pane toward which they vaguely glance
Occasionally, at my louder taps.
Of course you do, astute, poetic mind!
Ah, but do they?
Do they
(Amid the chatter about what He said
And what to wear)
Notice that the window's there?
(Or dimly find protection in a second pane--
A cold storm window!)
Do they know the world outside,
Where I stand  tapping, gently tapping,
Desperately, silently,
Here I am, here I am?
They only see reflections in
This one-way mirror, silvered glass -
With intercom, so I can hear them
Gabble,
Gibble,
Geep.

It shouldn't matter;
Why should I
Care that Ed said this to Sue?
Would I rather gibble geep
Than play bright music of my own?

The music plays for me alone.
Its comfort cannot stand
In place of friendship,
Hands that care,
And looks returned
(Without the glass between).

Karen Funk (Blocher), circa 1974 - October 2005.

Fiction and Poetry, Already in Progress

 

Well, well,  well.  The VIVI nominees have been announced, and overall I'm very pleased.  Most of my favorite journals have been nominated in appropriate categories, and there are lots of other nominees that I look forward to checking out as well.  So far, I've been impressed with nearly everything I've seen.  Congratulations, everyone, on your well-deserved honors!

And yes, I'm also pleased for reasons of personal validation.  Musings from Mâvarin has received two nominations, both fiction related:

The second one is for the Joshua Wander serial:

Non-Mâvarin Fiction Entry: Meet Joshua Wander

Meet Joshua Wander
After a series of dangerous experiments and the death of his beloved professor, a physics student becomes unstable, in more ways than one!
Part One    Part Two   Part Three   Part Four   Part Five  
Part Six   Part Seven   Part Eight   Part Nine   Part Ten
Part Eleven   Part Twelve   Part Thirteen   Part Fourteen   Part Fifteen  
Part Sixteen   Part Seventeen   Part Eighteen   Part Nineteen 

I don't really expect to win, I'm telling myself, as an innoculation against disappointment later.   But if you've enjoyed Meet Joshua Wander or Mall of Mâvarin, my haiku or my other poetry, I'd really appreciate your vote!

For those of you who are just now sampling my wares, here's a handy link list to other fiction and poetry I've posted in the past year:

(Okay, this is fun.  Tonight, Google insists that I'm German!)

Mall of Mâvarin
My current serial is a non-canonical crossover story between Joshua Wander and the Mâvarin novels.  High school students from DeWitt, NY find themselves remembering their lives in another world. 
Part One    Part Two   Part Three   Part Four   Part Five  
Part Six   Part Seven   Part Eight   Part Nine   Part Ten  
Part Eleven   Part Twelve   Part Thirteen   Part Fourteen  
Part Fifteen   Part Sixteen   Part Seventeen   Part Eighteen 
Part Nineteen  Part Twenty   Part Twenty-One   Part Twenty-Two  
Part Twenty-Three   Part Twenty-Four   Part Twenty-Five   Part Twenty-Six  
Part Twenty-Seven   Part Twenty-Eight  
Part Twenty-Nine   Part Thirty   Part Thirty-One   Part Thirty-Two

Mâvarin Fiction Entries
These are first-person accounts (mostly letters and diary entries) from the characters in my Mâvarin novels.  I did them mostly as a writing exercise, to shed a little extra light on the events in the two novels.  (And yes, the other reason was to drum up interest in the books!) The ones listed below were posted in October, 2004:
A Londran Police Report
A Letter from Uncle Jamek
A Letter from Rithe Fost
From the Secret Diaries of Commander Wil Masan
A Letter from Fayubi 

Other Fiction:
Only one of the following is a formal short story.  The rest are oddball entries with fictional elements:
Seasonal Fiction: Snowflake
100 Things About Karen That Aren't True - and 10 That Are
The Frightful Beam of Light  / Day Tripper
Black Rose Kate, the Pirate Scribe!

Poetry and Songs:
There are more haiku here than I realized, plus a variety of other poetical pieces.
Almost Unassisted Poetry 
Here Lies Some Blocher
Christmas Haiku, Part One: At the Mall
Christmas Haiku #2 Retro Christmas
Meeting Nicholas Again for the First Time
My Low-Tech, Postage-Free Holiday Card to You All
Tuffy's Resolutions for 2005 - in Haiku!
Maybe I'll Post Something Cheerful Later Today
Radio!  Radio!  Right Now! 
Haiku Declaration
Haiku as Performance Art
My Teen-Aged Alienation Comes Back to Haunt You
That Unforgettable Trip
Today's Lunchtime Confection

 I was feeling a little guilty about only posting one fiction entry a week (usually), and poetry less often than that.  But it really adds up, doesn't it?  I do plan to step up the frequency of both for the next couple of weeks, but there will still be Weekend Assignments, photo shoots, and anything else I feel like posting.  Tonight, for example, I was going to write about the role of rhymes and errors in filling my head with junk from the past.  All things considered, though, I think I'll hold that entry for Sunday.  I'm determined to finally finish Mall of Mâvarin before the month is out, even if I have to say that "they woke up, and it was all a dream."  And I really hate that kind of cop-out ending!

Karen

VIVI Nominees:
VIVI Official Nominees, Part One
VIVI Official Nominees, Part Two
Submitted For Your Consideration...  (my suggestions, now moot, for nominating people)

********Later***********

I just finished checking out all the other nominees in these two categories, with the exception of one I've visited before.  (I'll be right there, Vince!)  They are as follows:

BEST FICTION/POETRY JOURNAL:
The Falling Apart - bjp555
Messages- jouell3935
Poetry Dance - auburndawn
Tidbits - octoberroots
TO GROW IS TO BE ANXIOUS - deabvt


BEST ENTRY OR SERIES OF ENTRIES:
"baby got back"
        Adventures in Juggling - nicurnmama
"Growing up Shelli (Part One)"
        Day in the life of Shelli D - dazeychic
"It's Just a Toaster..."
        In my opinion, and Yes I have an opinion on EVERYTHING - pixiedustnme
"Monday Makeover, Week #1"
        Simple yet satisfying - Annalisa135
"okay, so here's the deal"
        Random Ramblings... - xzasporated1
"Satan is a Manicurist"
        ChaseNKids - chasenkids
"The Wedding From Hell"
        Adventures of a desperately fat housewife - tillysweetchops

And mine, of course.

I've read some very good poetry in several places, true tales of comic misadventures that probably weren't much fun to live through, a proof of group generosity, heart-wrenching entries about an unimaginably horrendous childhood, and a reaction to an unexpected visual reminder of the death of a child.  Good stuff, all of it. (Well, there was one I stopped reading after a few paragraphs,  but I won't tell you which one.)  Go see for yourself!

But after you've read all this wonderful work by other people, I still want you to vote for mine.  Does that make me a bad person?   ;)

Karen

Radio! Radio! Right Now!

I'm on the radio in 20 minutes! Make that 4 minutes! 8 PM MST!

http://www.publicbroadcasting.net/kxci/ppr/index.shtml

If you miss it, check the KXCI.org web site for broadcast times of "A Poet's Moment." It's one of their mini-programs, and each show is broadcast four times. Remember, all times are MST.

If you don't want to hear my less-than-dulcet voice overdramatizing my best poem, then, well, never mind. But it's a cool station, regardless of whether you hear me on it. Where else can you hear Louis Prima, Woody Guthrie, Ziggy Marley, Stan Ridgeway, Fanny, blues, Tucson artists, electronica, obscure rockabilly, equally obscure psychedelia, and classic samba?

There will be another show, with another poem. I'll let you know when he gets that one scheduled.

Later....

You missed it already, didn't you? Yes, you did! Sarah heard it. I heard it. The rest of you missed it. I understand. You didn't get adequate notice.

Like Little Rabbit Foo Foo, I'm going to give you three more chances:

Wednesday at 1 PM MST
Friday at 2 AM MST
Sunday at 2 PM MST

All times are approximate. Tonight it aired 3 minutes before the hour.

Here's the poem, in case you want to read along:

Pilate’s Answer:

“...And All Ye Need to Know”

by Karen Funk Blocher

And when they thought they needed him

For all men's grand and trivial schemes,

They hunted, leaving women home

To watch him dancing at their doors.

The men would sometimes find him, too:

An ear between two whispered words,

A hand in dying, dancing flames,

An eye that blinked in time with stars.

Soon or late, they thought they spied

An ancient foot between two growls,

And grabbing by a withered toe

They dragged him to the stadium.

In the center was a stage,

That they from every angle might

Survey and study ageless flesh:

Now young, now old, forever strange.

And one by one they came to coax,

To scream, negotiate, threaten, bribe...

While he stood smiling, mocking all,

His mouth forever smiling, shut.

And much would some of them endure

Just to glimpse his shadowed face.

They sat on nails. They cut off ears.

They starved alone among the rats.

Then many, failing, came outside

To claim that they had heard his voice,

And used his name to justify

Their good, and bad, and mad ideas.

Others, quiet in their chairs

Would paint him 'til their hands were dust,

In somber blues, in burning reds,

In glorious fluorescent tones.

A child, a sphinx, a laurel crown,

A junkie, shepherd, quiet pond

They saw in him, and in his hand

A flower, pitchfork, candle, sword.

Each night the thwarted pilgrims left,

Some early, others staying 'til

Their eyelids pressed on reddened eyes

And legs could scarcely stagger off.

And finally, when all had gone,

Truth left the stage, invading dreams

And laughing, spinning changing lies

For men to follow, blindly grateful.

Karen

More for Scalzi and Mumsy, and If Mâvarinû Wrote Haiku

A Few More for Scalzi and Mumsy:

Pumpkin anything!
Strange that I should crave foods with
Jack O' Lantern eyes.

Cold comfort food soothes
Hunger, stomach pain and stress:
Ice cream first; then guilt.

Dolley Madison
Would be astonished to learn
About her snack cakes.

If Mâvarinû Wrote Haiku - Haiku from the land of Mâvarin:

If Mâvarinû
Wrote haiku, Fayubi would
Have three-line insights.

By the River stands
A monster, furred and fearsome;
Inside: confused boy.

Muddy water hides
Sandy bottom, swords, secrets,
But no missing friend.
.
Cool, sweet grass, wild smells.
A rabbit's near! Run it down!
Feral tengrem snack.




Large house, three stables
Do not teach twins to assume
Rule of Mâvarin.

In the Infinite
This world and the Afterworld
Are linked by spirit.

There she is. My face
Hovers over empty plate,
But I did not eat.

 

Art by Sherlock.
More about Mâvarin books and characters: www.mavarin.com

Karen

Deficient Haiku/Stand As Placeholders for Now/'Til I Do Better

You asked for it, John Scalzi:

Faithful snack machine
Sell comfort carbs, get me though
Accounting class stress!

What I need to eat--
For health; for peace in my house--
Is not what I want.

Raindrops came today,
Not enough to say "monsoon,"
But enough for hope.

Difficult problem:
Snacks and nature and meaning
In just one haiku.

I may try again
When sleep and food help my brain
To function again.

Karen

Tolkien Pastiches

 It's died down a bit now, but for several days a fun literary game was being played over on Teresa Nielsen Hayden's blog, Making Light.  The idea is to rewrite Tolkien in the style of another writer.  In practice, these pastiches tend to be based on specific works by everyone from Lennon & McCartney to Jane Austen, with Tolkien elements substituted for most of the original words.  The result is entertaining, and often quite funny.  Oh, and half the fun is identifying the source material of other people's pastiches.

I wrote about a dozen of these (I want to say "put together," since it's in effect a satirical rewrite of the work of others), and could happily have done a dozen more.  Nevertheless, I'm going to try to quit while I'm ahead.  Here they are.  Other people wrote more elegant, more literary, more clever, subtle and wondertful ones, but this is my blog so you only get the ones I did.  To see more, check out the link above, and follow the further links from there.

So.  What writers and works am I pastiching (is that a word?) here?

1.
It was a dark and stormy night.

In the Prancing Pony Aragorn son of Arathorn, wrapped in a weatherstained cloak, sat at his usual table and watched the hobbits tossing back beer and singing songs. Outside the inn clouds flew urgently away from the Shire. Every few moments lightning flashed through them, illuminating wraithlike shadows that rode toward their halfling prey.

The inn shook.

Wrapped in his cloak, Aragorn shook.

He wasn't afraid of the weather. --It's not just the weather, he thought. --It's the Ringwraiths on top of everything else. On top of me. On top of the hobbits doing eveything to draw attention to themselves.

2.
Once upon a time, a rather long time ago now, about last Saturday, Bilbo Baggins lived with his nephew in a hobbit-hole, under the name Bag End. 

("What does 'under the name' mean?" asked Merry.

"It means that the hillside was called Bag End, and he lived under it," said Gandalf.)

"Pippin wasn't quite sure," said Merry.

"Now I am," squeaked a voice.

"Then I shall go on," said Gandalf.

3.
The Red Book of Westmarch is a truly remarkable book. The introduction starts like this: "Hobbits," it says, are smallish folk with mind-bogglingly large, hairy, leathery feet. I mean, you may think you have trouble finding decent boots, but that's just peanuts to hobbits. Their feet are so big and tough that shoes themselves seem small and flimsy. Listen...."

After a while the style settles down a bit and the book starts to tell you something you might actually need to know, such as the fact that most of the Rings of Power were corrupted or destroyed, so if you should happen to find one, it is vitally important that you don't put it on.
 
4.
He dons the ring with nerveless hands
Close to the Eye in evil lands,
Lost to himself at last, he stands.

Gollum Frodo's exit stalls.
From fatal bite, o'er lava walls
With ring and finger, Gollum falls.

5.
One Ring! One Ring! Glowing bright,
Forged in fires of the night,
What immortal, lidless Eye
Now seeks thy grasping symmetry?

6.
Hobbits, go where I send thee.
Where shall I send thee?
I will send thee south and east
Where darkness falls and you the least,
Baggins, little bitty halfling
Will slip beneath his notice,
Hope, oh, hope of Hobbiton!

7.
In Khazad-Dûm did Durin's Folk
A stately treasure cave decree,
Which orcs and trolls soon overran
In caverns closed to dwarf and man
Far from the streets of Bree.

8.
Call me Mithrandir.

9.
Gollum leads you up to his stairway into Mordor
You can hear the orcs go by
You can stay entombed forever
And you know you’ve gone half-crazy
But that’s why you have to be there
And Sam feeds you out of dishes
Carried all the way from the Shire
And just when you want to tell him
That you cannot travel further
He takes you in his arms
And he lets his strong back answer
You’re not heavy, you’re his brother.

And we want to travel with them
And we want to read their tale
And we think we understand them
For the world in which we find them
Makes ours pale.

And Sauron was a voyeur when he sent out his nine Ringwraiths
He spent the last year watching
From Barad-Dur his tower
And when he knew for certain
That both elves and men were falling
He said, “All their lords will die except
The ones that heed my calling,”
But his dark power was broken
By a lowly injured Halfling
Never quite forsaken
You lost the Ring of Power
At Mount Doom.

(Chorus)

Now Sam leads you down to the base of the volcano
You can see the world is changing
By the dawn that’s late in breaking
And the eagles fly in beauty
To bear you and Sam to glory
And though you’re slow to heal, you’re with
The Ranger at his crowning
There are heroes from the Shire
There are men who are rebuilding
There are elves now looking out to sea
Who’ll sail away forever
And you too will be a sailor.

(Chorus)

10.
It was a long-expected party.
Suddenly, the host disappeared! The guests shouted. A gate slammed.
Suddenly, a Black Rider appeared on the horizon!

11.
I was out with Sam, my gardener. It was his year for following me around; he kept calling me Mister Frodo. He thought he was doing his duty by me. Gandalf’s fault. Ha, ha.

He’d cooked a couple of coneys for me, with herbs, no taters, reluctantly helped by Gollum, who’d since gone off on his own.

I’d eaten pretty good, but I was cranky. “Come on, you moron,” I demanded, “find me a way out of this wasteland.” 

[Note: this entry has been cleaned up with much less "vulgar" language than in the original. Sorry, HE.]

12.
“Repent, Gandalf!” said Saruman.
“Get stuffed!” said Mithrandir.

There are a few more of these in the comments below.

Karen