No spoilers: it is school break week in New England and the McPuncherson family is on vacation
Butch:
It's very early.
Too early for me to write
A decent haiku.
[later]
Mhmm hmmm.
Palm trees. Ocean. Rum.
Restless children everywhere.
This is vacation.
Tropical paradise.
Beautiful sun, sand, surf and sea.
Blogmates would hate this.
Loothound:
Yeah, not so much. Why did I think that you were going to Holland?
Feminina:
Hate is a strong word.
One I reserve for squinting into the glaring sun while everything gets covered in sand that will still be showing up around the house weeks later.
But you enjoy!
Butch:
A main goal is to not have nugget or Mrs McP go home looking like a pork rind. Sun here is hot (we're 500 miles south of Hawaii) but there's always a breeze so you don't feel hot. Easy to forget sunscreen.
We're doomed.
And they speak Dutch here! Well, everyone speaks English, but the official language is Dutch.
When I saw the pool has a swim up bar, I thought "maybe….MAYBE, that would get my blog mates in this pool."
Loothound:
I know you mostly mean Feminina here, because I love the water. You'd have more trouble getting me OUT (especially with an in-pool bar).
Butch:
HA!
"Yes, guests, his name is Looty. He's been at that underwater barstool for seven years. We've given up asking him to leave."
They have underwater barstools.
Loothound:
Dangerous, that. How tempting would it be to NOT get out to pee?
Feminina:
So, so tempting.
This is only part of why I'm not going near it, however.
Butch:
Waaaaay ahead of you.
I kid I kid.
Or do I?
Feminina:
I'll stay away from the pool, and the sand. And the haiku.
For some reason I just cannot get haiku. I can easily write blank verse in iambic pentameter, should the need arise, but haiku just doesn't gel in my head. I always read it as a semi-random clump of short sentences. Though I guess I feel that way about a lot of free verse poetry as well.
OK, I guess the reason is probably that I studied blank verse in iambic pentameter and I never studied haiku, so not really a mystery.
I'm glad I had this little chat with my keyboard.
Butch:
Oh I'll go totally free verse once I get enough sun and rum. I tried to find my free verse ode to jet blue from two augusts ago. Couldn't. I was proud of that one.
We're going out for Brazilian barbecue, all you can eat meat tonight. Then I might go gambling. I think I'm actively trying to preview Femmys hell.
Feminina:
Yeah, you're really not selling me on this place.
That's cool. There are plenty of other places.
Loothound:
See, I just like haiku because it enforces brevity, which is the soul of something (according to someone). Also, the syllable requirement does a lot to create a poetic structure without a complex accent or rhyme scheme. Also, in my head, I imagine them in the voice of a very serious samurai reciting his death poem. It makes them feel very profound, if they're serious, and hella funny when they're not serious.
Yeah, keep your sand and casinos. Pool and rum are fine, though.
Feminina:
I think these days it's "brevity is the soul of memes and bumper stickers." But certainly the requirement to pare your thoughts down to minimal, key words is a good discipline.
For me it's hard to beat a good rhyme, but that does tend to feel old-fashioned. Also, a bad rhymed poem can be cringeworthy in a truly terrible way, so it's a dangerous game.
Loothound:
Yeah, I like rhyme, but it's gotta be right. Like you say. If I remember correctly, rhyme was considered a bit gimmicky by some poets. I seem to remember an old English teacher saying that Edgar Allen Poe would get zinged as not really a poet for some of his rhymes. The dig was that he'd simply invented a clever rhyming machine, or something like that.
Turns out, art needs to be done artfully, or something.
Feminina:
I feel like rhyme is sort of the pun of poetry.
It can be beautiful, smart, and well-done, but it's also 'easy' and has pretty broad appeal, and is therefore considered a bit lowbrow.
All sorts of class assumptions built into both of those evaluations, obviously.
Butch:
I figure, this trip, I'll scout Femmy's hell so, if the Christians are right and we're both screwed, we can switch hells and be eternally happy.
Feminina:
I think there are a few different logical issues with this plan, but you're on vacation, so never mind.
Speaking of things that happen in the years adjacent to death, however, I just noticed I'm getting banner ads for the AARP now.
I'm giddy with excitement. Finally I can look forward to getting something based on age!
Loothound:
Correction, DISCOUNTS based on age.
Butch:
AARP? You need a vacation.
Here's a poem. It's called "I ate too damn much."
I ate too damn much.
The end.
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