Do Nonsense Threads Have A Genuine Role To Play

[JCSTREET]

in the poetic zeitgeisten

(wait till I'm finished Tara Schwarzwald)

I believe YES

I think nonsense threads promote lateral thinking--the crazy posts that accumulate can suddenly jolt one or other poet into a brief fugue which generates yet another poem to more enervate your tired reviwers who struggle on at all costs to meet their deadlines--drunk or not

Sit me down in a room full of colonels and brigadiers and I will mostly manage to restrain myself but sooner or later (Tourette-style) some irreverent witticism will escape my lips (which is why I have retired with no pension) (and I hae acteed out in friday afternoon press confs with good old Pierre Elliott too at times although he was not easy to master)

I am constitutionally unable to take anything seriously after more than 20 minutes of listening to the best and the brightest wittering on about this and that

(and it's been years since I've been partial to meds of any stripe)

SO.................

rubs his bearded chin in an only half-realized tic which is not sexy at all

well--lemme just bottom line this - I think Ken Kesey's Merry Pranksters just look like a bunch of accountants compared to the mayhem I am prepared to unleash

CarlieBear

(who eats mad cow beef and salmonella eggs just to "beef" up his immune system

(SOME POINTS TO PONDER)

1. Do you ever notice that government health officers have "flat affect" as we psychiatrists say

I'm just looking at one on the TV news (Ottawa) and she is totally fucking demented--absolutely falling out of her pram--flat nuts

(no wonder I have an aching need tenting my shorts--sheesh)

whatever happened to the tradition of mad poets--whatever happened to the tradition of rage and psychosis and ear-chopping

whatever happened to the priapic 75-year-olds whom--to the constant consternation of their families and loved ones and liked ones and sort of neutral ones - seduced a constant stream of maidens without surcease--without let or hundrance--who knew)

I am reminded of ROY - a retired English merchant seamen--short of funds in Montreal and living out his last days in a rather small apartment

unlike the modern southern English with their sleazy Thames Estuary accents (lots of elisions and glottal stops) which make you want to punch them in the face and cut them into pieces to be disposed of by the sanitary department) ROY attracted a constant stream of young maidens who lay with him at night in sandwiches--soothing down his sterterous breathing--his snoring--his 62-years-oldness--and who rolled cigarettes for him when he was too drunk to sit on horseback and do it himself and who went out onto the the streets to bring him whiskey, smokes and fresh oranges (not to fuck businessmen for money but to sell flowers as all respectable young girls did in that era)

this all happened under the auspices of DARWIN'S GAZEBO BAR AND RESTAURANT on Bishop street just across from the old CBC building - run by Wayne Pavey, David Wittman and the "PAKI" in some curious partnership

In those days I rode a 175cc kawasaki trail and would race up the side of Mount Rioyal in Montreal at 3am (closing time in Quebec) and ultimately fall off such that every time I tried to heave the bike off my my leg would sizzle against the hot exhaust pipe and I would expostulate cries of rage and pain as purple grooves that would never leave me were burnee into my thigh (but not my burnoose)

fortunately the police never found me, there was

no rubber hose work, no
telephone book head beating, no
metal garbage can over the head and beat it with stix (Tatha knows what I'm saying here)

MAXIMUM PAIN--MINIMUM MARKS WAS THE WATCHWORD OF THE OLD ORDER UP THERE ON DIVISION

 

[fawnie]

in the poetic zeitgeisten

(wait till I'm finished Tara Schwarzwald)

I believe YES

I think nonsense threads promote lateral thinking--the crazy posts that accumulate can suddenly jolt one or other poet into a brief fugue which generates yet another poem to more enervate your tired reviwers who struggle on at all costs to meet their deadlines--drunk or not

Sit me down in a room full of colonels and brigadiers and I will mostly manage to restrain myself but sooner or later (Tourette-style) some irreverent witticism will escape my lips (which is why I have retired with no pension) (and I hae acteed out in friday afternoon press confs with good old Pierre Elliott too at times although he was not easy to master)

I am constitutionally unable to take anything seriously after more than 20 minutes of listening to the best and the brightest wittering on about this and that

(and it's been years since I've been partial to meds of any stripe)

SO.................

rubs his bearded chin in an only half-realized tic which is not sexy at all

well--lemme just bottom line this - I think Ken Kesey's Merry Pranksters just look like a bunch of accountants compared to the mayhem I am prepared to unleash

CarlieBear

(who eats mad cow beef and salmonella eggs just to "beef" up his immune system

(SOME POINTS TO PONDER)

1. Do you ever notice that government health officers have "flat affect" as we psychiatrists say

I'm just looking at one on the TV news (Ottawa) and she is totally fucking demented--absolutely falling out of her pram--flat nuts

(no wonder I have an aching need tenting my shorts--sheesh)

whatever happened to the tradition of mad poets--whatever happened to the tradition of rage and psychosis and ear-chopping

whatever happened to the priapic 75-year-olds whom--to the constant consternation of their families and loved ones and liked ones and sort of neutral ones - seduced a constant stream of maidens without surcease--without let or hundrance--who knew)

I am reminded of ROY - a retired English merchant seamen--short of funds in Montreal and living out his last days in a rather small apartment

unlike the modern southern English with their sleazy Thames Estuary accents (lots of elisions and glottal stops) which make you want to punch them in the face and cut them into pieces to be disposed of by the sanitary department) ROY attracted a constant stream of young maidens who lay with him at night in sandwiches--soothing down his sterterous breathing--his snoring--his 62-years-oldness--and who rolled cigarettes for him when he was too drunk to sit on horseback and do it himself and who went out onto the the streets to bring him whiskey, smokes and fresh oranges (not to fuck businessmen for money but to sell flowers as all respectable young girls did in that era)

this all happened under the auspices of DARWIN'S GAZEBO BAR AND RESTAURANT on Bishop street just across from the old CBC building - run by Wayne Pavey, David Wittman and the "PAKI" in some curious partnership

In those days I rode a 175cc kawasaki trail and would race up the side of Mount Rioyal in Montreal at 3am (closing time in Quebec) and ultimately fall off such that every time I tried to heave the bike off my my leg would sizzle against the hot exhaust pipe and I would expostulate cries of rage and pain as purple grooves that would never leave me were burnee into my thigh (but not my burnoose)

fortunately the police never found me, there was

no rubber hose work, no
telephone book head beating, no
metal garbage can over the head and beat it with stix (Tatha knows what I'm saying here)

MAXIMUM PAIN--MINIMUM MARKS WAS THE WATCHWORD OF THE OLD ORDER UP THERE ON DIVISION

write a book..i'll read it!

 

[champagne1982]

Aha! Roleplaying,
the performers union will get you for this,
they're gilt guilds of guile and guilt.

(say that fast three times if you dare!
I just ended up gargling)

I kinda like the scenario of a briefing room,
the maple leaf insignia on generals' epaulets,
golden twinkles against the multi-coloured
shoulders of Canadian melded service.

But you do go on about being
a pet peeve of PET.
The brilliant power of youth
Maggie flashing pussay.

That opens up curtains to a stage
set in flower-power Montreal heyday.
With John and Yoko nude in bed,
surrounded by sycophants. The press
wanting to be a bug in the bed-in
of liers, liars and the laid.

Choose a role and nonsense
yourself outta that one?

 

[champagne1982]

Damned double post! I'll just use it to do a nana dance in honour of post number 800

 

[Tathagata]

I think you can guess my take on this....

 

[A Desert Rose]

Do Nonsense Threads Have a Genuine Role To Play

Oh, absolutely.

It's a playground for your mind, for your imagination and senses.

 

[lostandfounder]

Just letting the words flow out

Nonsense has a genuine role to play...let the words flow, don't censor them because they seem to have little or no meaning. Getting the nonsense out can clear your mind....or give you an idea that you didn't know you had.

Also....sometimes nonsense isn't nonsense. In Wonderland, Alice met some who spoke with logic of numbers, not of ideas (or did they?).

Nonetheless, Surreal is a wonderful thing sometimes...in carefully measured doses....and in that sentiment.....

Let flow thy words of logic less
than stellar reason shall permit
Offer up thy mental mess
With a dulled sword's wit