'E'

"?"
~ Twittering

*

"5:30 pm Twitter.
...god to see you back.
...got to get a bit of sleep
(long night) ...be back later. ..oille crank out more stuff f4r' u"
~ Raving

"oille?
Where's my nap sack?
Raving, see you here! And tell M.Ellen we require cantaloupes!"
~ Twittering

*

*Schizoaffectives?

~ I time to time give it some thought.
.... don't know much about it.
The description is rather close to ADD in the 'raw' sense."
~ Raving

"O, just put on your Levis ~ Bring some bricolage,
But salad's raw, although the carrots, yes,
Cooked."
~ Twittering

"I suspect
That it's hard to tell."
~ Raving

"Not at all!"
~ Twittering

"When I look back on the situation
Retrospectively, it's the 3 people that I KNOW
Have ADD that pretty much 'collar' the diagnosis.
They are every bit as zany as me in their own sort of way.
... When I look at the people,
Here
I also see that similarity."
~ Raving

"Who cares?"
~ Twittering

"Tell me more about
Schizoaffectives."
~ Raving

"No!
To the State of Fugue we must now go! Tally ho ~
Giddy up!"
~ Twittering

*

"Hey, buds!
I said, Who Cares?"
~ Twittering

~ Who Cares ~

"In 1937, George Gershwin
Asked Balanchine to come to Hollywood
To work with him on Samuel Goldwyn's
'Follies.' Tragically,
Gershwin was felled by a brain tumor
Before he completed the ballet music
For the film. Thirty-three years later,
Balanchine choreographed

'Who Cares?'

To 16 songs Gershwin
Composed between 1924 and 1931, including 'I Got Rhythm,'
'The Man I Love,' 'Embraceable You,' and 'My One
And Only.' Kay's orchestrations draw
Extensively on Gershwin's own piano arrangements
Of his songs. Balanchine used the songs
Not to evoke any particular era
But as a way to portray an exuberance
That is both broadly American
And charged with the distinctive energy of Manhattan."

http://www.nycballet.com/repnotes/whocares2.html

*

"Excalibur,
That you?! If so, where's
Your member? Or have you forgotten?"
~ Twittering

"Janie! <----> Zany

?

more, perhaps?
please
maybe
huh"
~ Raving

"Huh ~ Or
Zoe?"
~ Twittering

"m'more please, sir"
~ Raving

"No Sir
Am I. Your turn
Next serve! Me, I gotta go, I gotta shower, yes, me, I
Gotta get uptown, and all
Around town, my hounds, my ballet, yes, we're still
Auditioning ~ So know! Come on down
If you're a horny, fancy [Psst! Mr.
J? You know, like, Hey!]
Prancer ~ Justice, Kap
That!"
~ Twittering

*

~ * ~
___________________________________________________
Fay Ray
(1984-1995)

Here Ye! Hear Ye!
Calling Ms. Fay back from Dog Heaven ~
___________________________________________________
* CASTING CALL *
___________________________________________

~ A New Ballet ~
___________________________________________
"Horny Hounds Prance ~
Around Town, Just a Wilde Ballet"
___________________________________________
~ Choreographers ~
*G. Ballanchine * L. Kirstein * DonVon*
___________________________________________
Please send & post relevant experience,
Eg, theatrical, dance, training, obedience,
& any other perts.
___________________________________________
A Morning Wood Production
Shakespeare's Globe Theatre
West Edge Off Center
___________________________________________
* Dogging Arts * Fogging Minds * It's a Star *
___________________________________________

*

~ Twittering ~

~ * ~

"My
Address Book [1 of them]
Is The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Title page ~
'Messenger Delivering a Ham Sandwich to the King,'
Illustration by John Tenniel
[1829-1914]. From 'Through the
Looking Glass and What Alice
Found There' [London, 1887]
By Lewis Carroll.
Gift of Miss Fairchild Bowler, 1965.

Opposite ~
'Fish Footman Delivers an Invitation from the Queen
To Play Croquet'
Illustration by John Tenniel
[1820-1914]. From 'Alice's Adventures in Wonder ~
Land' [London, 1886] by Lewis Carroll.
Gift of Miss Fairchild Bowler,
1965. Ms.
VK McCarty ~
Hey! Ms.
Elaine McGarity ~ aka, New ~
Hey!"
~ Twittering

"Like these?"
~ p fogg

"Messenger, but not the footman."
~ Twittering

"Nothing speculates the note's enclosure
Better than a perfumed scent
Lingering in the wings. Your letter's flight
The impulse to unravel or address
A new message committed to memory ~
Bound fast in engraved relief. Bedtime brings the answer
Into the night table's light. These same stories
Unfold around our favorite parts, crinkled cotton
Sheets of dialogue. Time to address the point,
Or read myself asleep ~

Caroche ~ A grand horse-drawn carriage
Used on ceremonial occasions.

*

Quoted message said:

From 'The Crosse'

By John Donne
(1573-1631)

WHO can blot out the Crosse, which th'instrument
Of God, dew'd on mee in the Sacrament?
Who can deny mee power, and liberty
To stretch mine armes, and mine owne Crosse to be?
Swimme, and at every stroake, thou art thy Crosse;
The Mast and yard make one, where seas do tosse;
Looke downe, thou spiest out Crosses in small things;
Looke up, thou seest birds rais'd on crossed wings;
All the Globes frame, and spheares, is nothing else
But the Meridians crossing Parallels.
Material Crosses then, good physicke bee,
But yet spirituall have chiefe dignity.
These for extracted chimique medicine serve,
And cure much better, and as well preserve;
Then are you your own physicke, or need none,
When Still'd, or purg'd by tribulation.
For when that Crosse ungrudg'd, unto you stickes,
Then are you to your selfe, a Crucifixe.
As perchance, Carvers do not faces make,
But that away, which hid them there, do take;
Let Crosses, soe, take what hid Christ in thee,
And be his image, or not his, but hee.

~ love of first line ~

"Something like, 'put her
On the shelf,' would be my guess.
Push her aside."
~ Giger
Desires And Longings

"Au contraire ~ Ginger,
Counter! Memories,
Dreams, reflections, also, yes,
Questions. Quest
Or cope. For the rest,
I must only hope...ET still
Want to go home. Where's my pup?"
~ Twittering

"Don't you know?"
~ Agent

"No."
~ Twittering

Perchance,
The sheep meadow,
....So chasing dreams,
O memories...

"...our periodic table
By the reflecting pool."
~ Mum

"Sniffin, lickin,
You ~
Our love of first lines
Rhymes, too."
~ Twittering

"A Corona Light,
Some Doritos, guacamole, too,
We'll order."
~ Mum

~ * ~

*
~ * ~ Grande Rounds Series ~ * ~
_________________________________________
* Dogging Arts * Fogging Minds * It's a Star *
_________________________________________

*

"That explains my philosophy to just
'Let it go' wherever,
And whenever you need to. In your pants, at work,
At the dinner table like Steve Martin in that movie?
'Can I go potty?
Sure dear, go ahead.'
And his face turns red as he strains,
Then he goes 'ahhhhh....."
~ Fabulust

"Naughty!"
~ Twittering

~ * ~

$%^&*()_Quertty? Pretty byrdie!

*

"So how would you explain this?"
~ Brunibus

"Explain what?"
~ Twittering

*

" ~ Boo!

~ * ~

The Alice Poem

"Would you tell me please which way I have to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the
cat.

æ Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

A brilliant digression (see etching, page 36) took us by surprise
In a game that complimented (complicated?)
A starry night's constellation æ You realize,

You're drafted æ of recast narrative, deftly under-rated
Until we pause, look around, smell the fragrant cuisine.
A dinner party (Appetizer), guests explain! The soufflé impersonated

A deflated croquet player, as I chased a red ball (Alice said so!), an
extreme
Masquerade. The Garden Course (here's your mallet) graduated our
progress
Into smaller steps (decant the wine). "Come," I mean,

"Let me read you a starlit passage." A reason to digress.
Disembarking the lawn, we hailed the Page, framed with gold-leaf
Borders of verbena, primrose, and ivy. I redrafted the page, I
confess.

It was all for a kiss. A simple belief,
As we huddled (cuddled) upon a cushion, merely to leaf
Through our storybook, banishing yesterday's grief,

Kindled stars into literary relief (turn the page).

æ Virginia Hooper

*

Notes for
The Pool of Tears

"It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again,
and looking anxiously about as if he had lost something..."

æ Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

The last remaining light between me and the designated helper
Who came to sit a moment, enjoy the view,
Mentioned again why she'd bothered to keep a journal
Of all these changes that refuse their home. Makers rarely know the
difference,
But readers often do.
We stalked the tip of the island,
Or rather, the end of the land, where a curled arm wrapped inward,
As a chambered nautilus folds inward
Toward the heart of the matter.
We called it a Victorian Dream,
As you brought the storyline with you, despite your insistence
That it was my story. But don't you see, I explained,
Your story became mine. And now I sit to read it back to you.
Now I sit to write it for you. Will you hear me? Will you listen to
me?
Will you want me, still, as you once wanted me,
One summer's dream ago?
A special kind of journey says,
Wait another day,
make it easier on the heart to leave.
Guests arrived between cocktails and dinner,
As the tide curled farther inward, and the fire lit the interior.
You've seen grand waves. But now you prefer a more subtle rhythm,
Enough for a daily trip across the bay, as you knew the place by heart,

Kept it close to memory, wrapped it (and me) in a tissue-thin layer of
time.
The goal described a leisurely stroll along the shore's edge.
Well, do you want it, you asked me,
As I moved toward the door.
Simple memories, like this one,
Linger on in the air, hang above us, as a clouded moment
Begs for clarity, despite multiple meanings assigned over time.
That's where I headed, after you closed the door, left me wondering
What happened next.
A fluffy white dog ran to greet me.
I struggled with my baggage, as I entered the cluttered waiting room,
Waiting for you to empty my mind of all this clutter,
Asking you to redecorate the space,
Refresh my interior with something Zen and clear as water.
The new definition of your life starts here. A prompt
For the moment.

Minutes away by foot, you answered easily,
Even now. Delighted by the scene,
I slowly turned back to the story, where dinner was served.
The conversation flowed as we lingered by the pool.
The narrow road wandered back,
And I carefully recorded a view of the Pool of Tears,
As each time I fell into its depths, my memory washed clean,
As a body in need of refreshment.
The Pool of Tears
Was restored as a seasonal resort. Each corner anchored
By a grand limestone monument to tears shed in inclement weather.
A source of community pride, you explained to me, a gallery of historic
homes
Revived for the simple pleasure of leading a small crowd
Through a brief narrative glimpse of what made us shed a tear.
Oh look, I cried, the Pool of Tears
Is visible through the colonnaded walkway.
The brochure offered just enough description to fire our imagination.
After much indecision,
I chose a step back farther in time,
Still looking for what I anxiously forgot.
What's not, what is? What's now, what's
Here in now in Morning Wood,
Where all I love, where all love me, where all's here,
Here with me...

~ Q ... Q ... Q ... Q ... Q ... Q ... Q ... Q ... Q
.... Q ... Q ... Q
WWWWWWWWWW^*!
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

"Mum?"
~ Twittering

"Yes, Twitty?"
~ Mum

"What's
That?"
~ Twittering

............... * !

"O, that?
Just the nightbat ~ Out and about in the light of day...."
~ Mum

"O.
Imagine that."
~ Twittering

..|***\........................~ (@:> *

"And, O, Twittering! Look over there ~
Tyche's got something for you..."
~ Mum

"?"
~ Twittering

*

"5:30 pm Twitter.
...god to see you back.
...got to get a bit of sleep
(long night) ...be back later. ..oille crank out more stuff f4r' u"
~ Raving

"oille?
Where's my nap sack?
Raving, see you here! And tell M.Ellen we require cantaloupes!"
~ Twittering

*

entry formate

Jehovah god

espn= -1 (6) 0 (6) 1
me (1) hee hee hee

"entry formate

Jehovah god

espn= -1 (6) 0 (6) 1
me (1) hee hee hee"
~ Exter Carefull

"O, you mean ~ The Rocky
Horor
Picture Show, over at Ye Old Exeter Theatre,
The corner,
Newbury and Exeter Steets, after
Mid-Night, on Friday nights?"
~ Twittering