ebullition: [eb-uh-lish-uh n]
1. A sudden outburst of passion or emotion.
2. The state of being ebullient.
3. The act or process of boiling or bubbling up.
4. A rushing forth of liquid (water, lava, and such) in an agitated state.
Damage all the things you know to see them whole again.
Break a leg on the walk of shame to gain the luck that washed away.
breathing new life into a dead corpse.
Breathing new visions into the blind.
Just throwaway words this time.
A call to arms.
A farewell to furor.
If only we could all breathe a sigh of relief.
The best is yet to come.
A few weeks ago I went to see the new Kurt Cobain biopic Montage of heck, complete with kiss of approval from his estate. I really loved the film even though it was grueling to watch. The animations are superb. The art Kurt made truly came to life. The music obviously superb. It was a film I think you only need to see once though. It was a very difficult watch. To see a boy who was so unhappy about everything and refused to change any of his behaviour to make it better. To see a man clearly completely intoxicated in front of his young daughter even Courtney asks him if he wants his daughter to see him like that. He clearly was a very troubled man and I was almost embarrassed for him to watch this movie. It was too much. Too personal. Too hard.
Should I get married? Should I be good?
Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustus hood?
Don’t take her to movies but to cemeteries
tell all about werewolf bathtubs and forked clarinets
then desire her and kiss her and all the preliminaries
and she going just so far and I understanding why
not getting angry saying You must feel! It’s beautiful to feel!
Instead take her in my arms lean against an old crooked tombstone
and woo her the entire night the constellations in the sky-
When she introduces me to her parents
back straightened, hair finally combed, strangled by a tie,
should I sit with my knees together on their 3rd degree sofa
and not ask Where’s the bathroom?
How else to feel other than I am,
often thinking Flash Gordon soap-
O how terrible it must be for a young man
seated before a family and the family thinking
We never saw him before! He wants our Mary Lou!
After tea and homemade cookies they ask What do you do for a living?
Should I tell them? Would they like me then?
Say All right get married, we’re losing a daughter
but we’re gaining a son-
And should I then ask Where’s the bathroom?
O God, and the wedding! All her family and her friends
and only a handful of mine all scroungy and bearded
just wait to get at the drinks and food-
And the priest! he looking at me as if I masturbated
asking me Do you take this woman for your lawful wedded wife?
And I trembling what to say say Pie Glue!
I kiss the bride all those corny men slapping me on the back
She’s all yours, boy! Ha-ha-ha!
And in their eyes you could see some obscene honeymoon going on-
Then all that absurd rice and clanky cans and shoes
Niagara Falls! Hordes of us! Husbands! Wives! Flowers! Chocolates!
All streaming into cozy hotels
All going to do the same thing tonight
The indifferent clerk he knowing what was going to happen
The lobby zombies they knowing what
The whistling elevator man he knowing
Everybody knowing! I’d almost be inclined not to do anything!
Stay up all night! Stare that hotel clerk in the eye!
Screaming: I deny honeymoon! I deny honeymoon!
running rampant into those almost climactic suites
yelling Radio belly! Cat shovel!
O I’d live in Niagara forever! in a dark cave beneath the Falls
I’d sit there the Mad Honeymooner
devising ways to break marriages, a scourge of bigamy
a saint of divorce-
But I should get married I should be good
How nice it’d be to come home to her
and sit by the fireplace and she in the kitchen
aproned young and lovely wanting my baby
and so happy about me she burns the roast beef
and comes crying to me and I get up from my big papa chair
saying Christmas teeth! Radiant brains! Apple deaf!
God what a husband I’d make! Yes, I should get married!
So much to do! Like sneaking into Mr Jones’ house late at night
and cover his golf clubs with 1920 Norwegian books
Like hanging a picture of Rimbaud on the lawnmower
like pasting Tannu Tuva postage stamps all over the picket fence
like when Mrs Kindhead comes to collect for the Community Chest
grab her and tell her There are unfavorable omens in the sky!
And when the mayor comes to get my vote tell him
When are you going to stop people killing whales!
And when the milkman comes leave him a note in the bottle
Penguin dust, bring me penguin dust, I want penguin dust-
Yes if I should get married and it’s Connecticut and snow
and she gives birth to a child and I am sleepless, worn,
up for nights, head bowed against a quiet window, the past behind me,
finding myself in the most common of situations a trembling man
knowledged with responsibility not twig-smear nor Roman coin soup-
O what would that be like!
Surely I’d give it for a nipple a rubber Tacitus
For a rattle a bag of broken Bach records
Tack Della Francesca all over its crib
Sew the Greek alphabet on its bib
And build for its playpen a roofless Parthenon
No, I doubt I’d be that kind of father
Not rural not snow no quiet window
but hot smelly tight New York City
seven flights up, roaches and rats in the walls
a fat Reichian wife screeching over potatoes Get a job!
And five nose running brats in love with Batman
And the neighbors all toothless and dry haired
like those hag masses of the 18th century
all wanting to come in and watch TV
The landlord wants his rent
Grocery store Blue Cross Gas & Electric Knights of Columbus
impossible to lie back and dream Telephone snow, ghost parking-
No! I should not get married! I should never get married!
But-imagine if I were married to a beautiful sophisticated woman
tall and pale wearing an elegant black dress and long black gloves
holding a cigarette holder in one hand and a highball in the other
and we lived high up in a penthouse with a huge window
from which we could see all of New York and even farther on clearer days
No, can’t imagine myself married to that pleasant prison dream-
O but what about love? I forget love
not that I am incapable of love
It’s just that I see love as odd as wearing shoes-
I never wanted to marry a girl who was like my mother
And Ingrid Bergman was always impossible
And there’s maybe a girl now but she’s already married
And I don’t like men and-
But there’s got to be somebody!
Because what if I’m 60 years old and not married,
all alone in a furnished room with pee stains on my underwear
and everybody else is married! All the universe married but me!
Ah, yet well I know that were a woman possible as I am possible
then marriage would be possible-
Like SHE in her lonely alien gaud waiting her Egyptian lover
so i wait-bereft of 2,000 years and the bath of life.
We have entered the Christmas countdown for another year. I really dislike this time of year. It seems to make people cranky, self centered and easily annoyed. I also resent buying presents for people who are only interested in seeing me on one day of the year because we happen to have similar DNA strains. But the one thing that makes up for this being able to play Santa Claus for children.
Henry has a haul of Minecraft goodies this year including some of the Lego. He is mad on Minecraft [and so am I so I don't mind buying it]. He also has some Lego and rather fun Minecraft pajamas.
Holly is my little music nut. She loves listening to music and dancing, I have gotten her an easy to operate cd player so she can listen to music whenever she wants. Holly also loves craft so I got her a Doodlebear. Holly is also born on Christmas day which makes this time of the year even more hectic for us. We got her a wooden play kitchen this year. She loves playing in the kitchen and has a great selection of play food. I also got her the new Shaun the sheep dvd. She loves Shaun.
Daisy is not yet one year old and has been lucky enough to inherit a rather lot of baby toys from her brother and sister. She is very hard to buy for. I have found some bath toys and a copy of the Mem Fox classic Where is the green sheep?- complete with green sheep toy. I am planning of getting her the carrot toy from Ikea because she is rather fond of him.
And what do I want for Christmas? A night alone with my husband would be nice. I miss just being with him. There is always so much to do at home now. There never seems to be a moment just for us. But I guess that comes with having young children and eventually they will grow up and it will be just us again, cuddling on the sofa, holding hands and wondering when the kids will pop in the visit us again.