insomnia

 well, it's 430 in the morning. I've already been up since 3. i tried to fall back asleep in my leather recliner but it was no-go. so i turned on the lamp to write a haiku, thus:

shopping mall Santa

arrives in a blizzard of

artificial snow.

i thought after that maybe I could drift off to sleep, having accomplished an amazing artistic feat. but no, my spirit was still restless and my legs twitchy, so i turned on the lamp again and went into the kitchen to make a casserole.  we made spaghetti yesterday evening at 5, but only one measly person showed up for it, so i used the leftover spaghetti pasta in a tinfoil casserole dish with canned chicken and canned peas, covered with cream of chicken soup and sprinkled with lots of garlic powder -- it's cooking in the oven right now, and I hope . . . i hope . . .  that when it is done my troubled spirit will be at peace, knowing i can offer it to our neighbors and friends at noon, and that then maybe i can get another hour or two of rest before church.

our church starts at 830, and sometimes amy and i are hard put to make it on time. because we have gotten into the habit of staying up until midnight most nights. watching JAG on DVD. we're on season seven right now. i started out not much caring for the series, but now i'm invested in the characters, especially the cranky admiral.  and when you go to bed at midnight it's hard to be up at 7 to get ready for church.  luckily, they still have Sacrament Meeting here in the apartment building in the afternoon, so if we do miss morning services we can always go in the afternoon.

the casserole needs another 20 minutes, so that's how much longer i'm going to write this insomnia memorandum/memoir.

Amy has been busy with her H&R Block studies for the past several weeks.  she's learning how to do small business taxes. this requires her to read reams of boring detailed studies on small business tax cases and then get tested on them. sometimes she aces the test, and sometimes she has to take them several times before passing. it means a significant pay raise for her, so she's determined to get qualified, even though she gets a bad headache at the end of the day from looking at the computer screen all day.  she is also practicing on her euphonium most every day. she's renting it to buy from a local music store downtown. 50 bucks a month for a year and a half. 

right now we manage to get to the temple each Thursday for an initiatory session. that's about all i can do nowadays, since i need to use the bathroom about once an hour.

i occupy my time with poetry, when there is no paid writing work to do. we have been lucky for the past several weeks -- after a two month drought we are now rewriting 3 or 4 articles each day. the extra income is very helpful in paying down my credit card and buying organic food for amy.  i am craving fried or baked chicken all the time now, and there is a mexican market down the street that sells chicken quarters for 69 cents a pound, so i want to stop there on monday when we get paid and buy about ten pounds of cheap chicken to roast up each day, a little at a time.  with a bag of yellow yukon potatoes, which i like to roast by the dozen in the oven and then eat them cold or diced and reheated all week long.  we still get lunches at the senior center, or rather we will be doing so in November.  i stopped getting the free lunches this month because they just tasted lousy, being mass produced cafeteria food. but november's menu looks pretty toothsome, with lots of swedish meatballs and meatloaf.

my health remains about the same.  i had a flare up of ankle trouble a few weeks back, and had to just sit around the house doing nothing, waiting for the swelling to subside.  i got new eyeglasses a while back, and went cheap so they're not bifocals -- i have to take them off when i read or even sing the hymns in church.

getting back to my poetry.  i've stopped emailing it to anyone and instead tweet it out to about 25 journalists each day.  the ones that either like it or retweet it.  don't tell anyone, but i can usually knock out a set of rhymed verses or a haiku in about ten minutes -- but i'm afraid if my fans find out how quickly i can usually do it they'll think it is facile and of no depth (which it probably is) and will stop liking & retweeting my work.

i still daydream about getting an offer from the New York Times or the Wall Street Journal to write a daily poem for their newspaper. i like to imagine my byline in such an important newspaper and how good that would make me feel -- a circus tramp without a college degree who winds up a world-famous writer for a big newspaper.  ah well, what's wrong with dreaming?  without it, where would santa claus be or the easter bunny?

i'm beginning to plan what i'll eat for breakfast in a few hours. if there's time for it.  my stomach is always finicky in the afternoon and evening, so breakfast is the only meal i can really enjoy. we've got lots of buttermilk pancake mix, but i never seem to find the time to make 'em.  amy will make them anytime i ask her to, but she is so busy right now i feel shy about asking her to do it for me.

maybe i'll put on a pot of rice . . . no, no, i think instead i'll just have scrambled eggs with buttered toast. we've got some nice liver sausage from the farm up in Idaho, which i can put into the scrambled eggs.  but i'm going to take some aspirin right now and that will probably mean i'll be too groggy to cook anything before church.

the old clock on the wall tells me it's ten to five, so i'll turn off the oven and let the casserole cool off until noon. and try to close my eyes and close down my mind for some more rest.  amy always sleeps soundly right through the night. how i envy her!

take care, my little chaffinches, and be good -- and if you can't be good at least be Republican!   love, dad.

Verses, what else?

 

From paycheck to paycheck I'm living today.

I guess that is now the American Way.

Inflation has gutted my salary so

I'm eating no hamburgers, only some crow.

The future looks bleak, but there's one thing for sure --

being a pauper's the new sinecure. 

Today's Verses.

 HAIKU

moonlight pouring down

against a distant black tree --

dogs bark at nothing.

Eating croissants ought to be

elegant and fancy-free.

But those crescents flake away;

never in firm shape they stay.

Then they turn into a blob,

making me look like a slob.

more to follow . . .

 

 

Kim Jong-un a rocket fired,

then his own prestige admired. 

His missile over Japanese

landscape traveled with great ease.

Tokyo, unlike the Buddha, 

took umbrage at that hijo de puta. 

 

The market is in turmoil;

stocks and bonds may soon decline.

The bankers are uncertain;

their pronouncements sibylline. 

Inflation's running rampant

 

and the Fed won't compromise.

The only thing that's certain

is an order of french fries.

 

 

 

 

Narrative Poem: The Magic Haberdasher and Other Stories.

 

On a street near the river there was, and sometimes still is, a haberdashery shop.

It has no online store.  It's windows are dusty and remote.  The door is painted a lumpy green and creaks horribly.  Inside it smells like a small town grocery store, with undernotes of lilac vegetal. There's a large dull gray metal plate screwed into the middle of the tired wooden floor.

 Behind the counter drifts a mustache attached to a man. He works on the mustache when no customers are around, peering intently into a mirror while trimming with small silver scissors and applying macassar oil. He wears a bright brass badge that reads: 'Cuthbert Tobble.' The man, though, has never admitted to anyone that Cuthbert Tobble is his name. He tells everyone who comes in: "Just call me Benchley."

 

One day a neat little man wearing rimless glasses came in to ask: "Have you cambric handkerchiefs, that have been calendered?"  

"Right this way" replied Cuthbert, or Benchley.

The display case was an antique,with Russian isinglass windows. In it were bandannas, pocket squares, chamba rumbals, and plain white kerchiefs. But as the man approached the case he suddenly sprang back in revulsion.

The case was black with crawling, vibrating flies.

"I've changed my mind" the man said hoarsely, then walked swiftly out the door.

 Cuthbert, or Benchley, was nonplussed. He'd never seen so much as a single fly in the store before.

He pulled out the fly swatter and went to work. But since flies have such a high flicker fusion rate, he failed in making a significant dent in their numbers.

Using a powerful electric fan, he blew the flies off the case and out a nearby window.

By then it was time to close the store.

At home he listened to the mantel clock tick until it ran down, then went to bed.

Where he wondered how Steve Harvey got to be so popular.

 

Submissions

 

 

 sept 25.  2022.

blue mt arts

like a thin cat's tail, the night air curls around us -- where are the blankets?

 

Sludge of pumpkin seeds

spilled on cold crisp newspaper --

a quiet fall night.

 

the chives all dried up --

potted pale ghostly brown straws --

ignoring the rain.

 

 

a red EXIT sign

nailed to an apple tree trunk

points to brown windfalls

 

 

rain on the sidewalk --

a brown leaf floats, then settles --

where are the brown ants?

 

 sept 26  2022

nature has such eyes

as see when even blinded --

and they do not blink

Recent Verses

 

Comic-cons and cosplays are a fad that makes me frown.

Because, you see, for quite some time I've been a circus clown.

Funny caps and crazy gear I trotted out for chortles;

I never thought myself to be those comic book immortals.

Now when I get dressed in large red shoes and baggy trousers,

people want to know where they can play me on their browsers!

There's nothing that a banker

likes better than to raise

their int'rest rate to levels

that worry and amaze.

The only math they practice

is multiply and add;

leaving all us gudgeons

to wander barrel-clad.

My wife and I grow older

and our manifest concern

is independent living

as our frailties we spurn.

We enter second childhood

and ride off on Harley hog --

fleeing further fading

by backpacking all through Prague.

Mr. Putin likes to bully

with his threats both wild and woolly.

Eaten up with grim insanity,

he defends his urgent vanity

by suggesting atom bomb

will resolve his Vietnam.

my networking is rather rough;

I never know what kind of stuff

to post for influential chums

that won't mark me as from the slums.

are fart jokes any good at all?

or how to rob a shopping mall?

I might suggest my kidney stone

requires a small privy loan . . .

I'd rather shop at Tiffany's

than any groc'ry store.

The prices are more moderate

and do not make me sore.

Eggs and meat and cheeses

are extravagantly marked;

the more I look upon them

the more chance I will infarct!

The Great Salt Lake is shrinking;

a puddle it will be.

A parking lot we'll make it

(that ain't hyperbole!)

The West is getting hotter

than you-know-where, muchachos --

twill only be a fit place

Critique of Henri Cole's 'Figs.'

 Overnight the figs got moldy and look like little brains --

or Ids without structure -- that say something dark

about our species not really laying down a garden

but living out the violent myths.

An insect chorus, almost diaphonous

in a neighbor's yard, says something, too:

'American began in tall ships that glowed from within,"

but, for the wretched, it still wretchedeth every day."

As the bright day goes around the sun,

why do our days grow

more aggressive and difficult?

Why do the world's shadows

come so close

as its wonders beckon?

Cole has a distinguished career as a teacher. Too bad he was never a newspaper reporter with a hard-hearted editor looming over him. Had that been the case, Cole would have sent those two awful lines about tall ships to the chopping block. They break up and distract the poem. Placed in the middle of an otherwise intriguing piece, those two wretched lines were probably meant by Cole to actually contain the real meaning of the whole poem. Or perhaps they are meant as a verbal collage; if so, they do not succeed in adding anything to this particular piece of art.

The whole subject of figs, of course, is fraught with sexuality. But Cole elects to be didactic and obscure. So if you'll excuse me I'm going for some fig newtons and a glass of milk in the kitchen.

Cole and supporters, please feel free to repeat this rejoinder about the above critique. On your social media accounts and elsewhere:

"Mr. Torkildson fails as even a poetaster in his own versifying. It's only natural he should want to cut ineffectual capers around the towering literary achievements of  Mr. Cole."

Morbius: Give This Movie A Miss.

 

The box office performance of Morbius


Title:Morbius

Daniel Espinoza is the director.

written by Matt Sazama, Art Marcum, Matt Holloway, and Burke Sharpless

Availability: April 1, 2022

Marvel Universe on Sony is available in the country.

Cast: Tyrese Gibson, Jared Harris, and Jared Leto

the PG-13 rating

Category: Action

Budget for box office data: $75,000,000.

Columbia Pictures, Marvel Studios, Arad Productions, and Matt Tolmach Productions provided the funding.

International box office: $89,207,071 Domestic box office: $73,793,072

Synopsis

A good vampire is impossible to subdue.
especially when he is a respected physician who takes medication to treat his weak blood.
Unfortunately, the treatment is worse than the condition, and the doctor unwittingly turns into a neck nosher.
an undead.

There are others who want in on the action because vampirism is a trend.
They are able to consume some of the potion, allowing them to swoop in and deliver lethal hickies.

The big magilla comes out at the end when the good doctor defeats the bad guys and learns to live with his vampirism by repeating each evening as he emerges from his coffin, "Every day, in every way - I vant to suck your blood, blaah!" However, since this film is a part of the Marvel universe, there has to be a big magilla about it, with bats, blood, and blondes thrown together willy-nil

And are the bad guys, the bloodsuckers who have no remorse, actually dead?
A brief shot in the movie's conclusion implies that you shouldn't stake your entire future on it.
Thus, a new sequel is created.


The lackluster response to Morbius at the box office does not prove that people have no feelings for vampires.
Instead, it demonstrates that viewers are still picky about Count Dracula and his family.

We know what we want in a vampire, and when we don't get it, we usually leave the theater like cemetery fog rather than watch a dull retelling of the same old tale.

Because, let's face it, without a consummate performer like Christopher Lee or a pixie director like James Whale, the vampire motif becomes tedious.

It might be instructive to take a look back at what those old fogies created before there were blue screens and when the Breen Office was still in power. YouTube has some of the old Universal vampire movies up and running (until the copyright lawyers catch up to the posters).

There are the character actors first.
Not the big names; do you believe Clark Gable would be discovered dead sporting a widow's peak?
however, that army of specialized actors who oozed weirdness with every breath, like John Carradine and Lionel Atwill (or lack thereof.)
Sure, Matt Smith and Jared Leto can emote, but can they slither?
Doubtful.
Additionally, they don't have the ghoulish sense of humor that the undead and their henchmen enjoy using before wildcatting a jugular vein.
The characters were overly serious and stereotyped, which is largely the fault of the script writers.
The cast plays Morbius as though they are all suffering from a severe hangover.
Who knows, maybe they did with that kind of dreck staring them in the face every day.

The background music is another crucial component of a vampire film.
Due to their lack of sound, vampires do not prowl around like the Frankenstein monster or howl at the moon like the wolf man.
Therefore, the music must convey something about the vampire's hopeless immortal despair.
In the 1940s, Frank Skinner and Hans J. Salter produced truly monstrous music at Universal Studios.


Well, it's just a vampire movie, after all.
Right?
Some mindless entertainment to block out the outside world for a while.
Let's avoid overanalyzing it.
In addition, when you consider the cost of a movie ticket and a box of popcorn, movie theaters themselves are the real bloodsuckers!

Box Office Revenue

With a $75 million production budget and a worldwide box office that was 2.2 times the production budget, Morbius made $73,793,072 domestically and $89,207,017 internationally.

In its opening weekend, Morbius played to 4268 theaters and earned $39,005,895 (52.9% of the overall gross).

The movie received a domestic audience of 4268 theaters and received a domestic share of roughly 45.3%.

After dominating the box office during its opening weekend, Morbius dropped to second place the following weekend and experienced a -58% change in earnings by the sixth week. The film ran for a total of 10 weeks, earning an average weekend domestic gross of $53,597,201 based on an average run of 4.3 weeks per theater.

Morbius was released internationally to a total of 23 nations, with Mexico, the United Kingdom, and France serving as the film's three largest markets, with lifetime gross totals of $8,080,155, $8,043,226 and $500,000, respectively. 

Pink Sauce

 

What is pink sauce? Tell me true!

Is there merit in this goo?

It's for dipping, marinades;

and for TikTok mass charades.

Do not treat it as a joke --

you'll be labeled as un-woke!

 

A free bowl of chilled Thai noodles

 

Several people have told us, as if it were an accusation, that we said we wouldn't be serving any meals during the week, only on weekends. Well, for the most part that's going to be true.

But today Tim had a flashback to his days as a missionary in Thailand, and recalled fondly a dish the Thais loved to make ahead of time to serve at parties or whenever they didn't feel like cooking in the evenings.

So he decided to make a big bowl of it today to share for free with anyone who'd like to try it tonight at 5 p.m. If you're uncertain, please come by for a little sample, to see if you like it!

CHILLED ASIAN NOODLES WITH CHICKEN

Here's how it's made:

Parboil ramen noodles. Drain and rinse in cold water. In a large bowl combine the noodles with diced chicken, diced celery, diced onions, and diced pineapple. Mix thoroughly. Add a dressing of seasoned rice vinegar, pineapple juice, and mushroom flavored soy sauce. Mix again. Chill in the refrigerator until serving time. Garnish with cilantro and honey roasted peanuts.

Doesn't that sound scrumptious? And all you have to do is show up at our door with your own bowl at 5pm!  First come, first served.

The Torkildsons. Apartment 115.  Valley Villa. Provo.  Utah.