Here You Will Find…

A mind in which a decision was made,

today

in the faces framed and hidden by tint

speeding by, expressionless,

only hints

perhaps of a life lived, perhaps of an existence.

May not the worth

save that which entertainment gives,

be all that ties us to this earth.

May not the price,

save that which being takes,

be all that others know of our quarrels,

for in those reflexions that pass we see,

our essence in vicarious triviality.

NS

This poem was written in the wake of a strange day sat aside a freeway being watched by thousands of uncaring, unhelpful eyes (save for six, the owners of which I thank dearly and endlessly!). It inspired me to do something that feels – and you’ll attest to this if you’ve ever tried it – quite strange. To write and then read about yourself in the third person. This is where I’m reading it: http://closedencountersofthe3rdperson.blogspot.com

Regards,

Nathan Charlton-Salwowski.

Thatching the Abbott - A Major Brown K. Rudd

I've decided to loosen my grip on my dignity, and start posting everything. Everything including silly little dittys like this...

A short ode to uncomfortably unwelcome change:

Welcome to bizarro world my friends and fellow apes,
I'm afraid this scent wont clear any time soon,
...
Here, shit smells Lilac lovely and you remember the future,
uncanny?
you know what passing that felt like before
only no more enema, just this;
a nice,
long,
Good Book

Noah's unwelcome this year,
Father A's made some revisions,
he's no fan of boats,
...
This brings one to wonder, though
what the runner thinks of swimmers?
for they're who he'll get, along with his sinners.
He dislikes fibre optics,
and wants to outlaw chopsticks,
with bright lights and tax hikes,
big wheels digging yet bigger holes.
...
Let's all sigh as one,
...and hope this will all blow over.

The Picture of Dorian Gray: Surprised to see books still being burned.

Woe is me, and a day defining discomfort is the one that settles in my stomach having seen this trailer. It would seem, while Oscar Wildes' "The Picture of Dorian Gray" is a novel undoubtedly worthy of a film adaptation, that an entirely unsuited team of producers has sunk their greasy and prodigal claws into this; such a richly written piece of literature of unfading philosphical relevence.

It took only a 'teaser' of two and a half minutes to discourage me from ever seeing it, I say teaser, but it felt more like a slow witted bully pummelling my literary heart of beloved hearts with stone fists of contemporary idiom and jargon carved by unimaginative egoistic corporate hands. I may be wrong, as it has been more than a year since I've read the book, but I challenge you to find the lines "If I told you, I'd have to kill you" when Dorian is referring to the secret behind his apparent immortality, nor "Let's raise some hell", spoken by Lord Henry. Now in most book to film adaptations this would only present a very minor nuance, but when the adapted book is a work of one of the greatest and most respected orators, conversationalists and raconteurs to have ever lived, on both page and in person, well, I hope you might see my problem with deviation from the archetype.

There is, I admit, small praise to be bestowed. Though only to the casting crew of this travesty, I'm afraid. Ben Barnes (Gray) is, I suppose suitably attractive, though I always pictured Dorian to have been fairer haired, and Colin Firth as Lord Henry was a respectable choice. We can be thankful at least, that they're actually English, this time.

So, if any of you who read this, few though you may be, are a fan and humbled worm of Wildes' works like myself deem this watchable, let me know. Help mend my confounded heart.

NS