Friday, October 24, 2008

Sunday Scribbling #134: Bragging Rights


THOSE I DID NOT SLEEP WITH

not Karen Carpenter

not Condaleeza Rice

not Ella

not Stevie

nor Little Stevie either

not Colin

not Cheney

not Nancy Wilson

not Mose Allison

not Van

not Dylan

not Sting

not the Righteous Brothers

not the Everlys

not Cher

certainly not Sonny

not Atom Egoyan, while we’re getting all Armenian about it

not William Carlos Williams

not Gertrude

not Alice

not Perry Como

not Marmaduke

not Lennon or McCartney

not the Modern Jazz Quartet

not Stanley Turrentine

not Wayne Shorter

not Jaco Pastorius

not Joni Mitchell (yes, I’m probably the only one)

not Pat Metheny

not Oprah

not Dr. Pill

not the Mormon Tabernacle Choir

not Blake

not Eliot

not Pound

not even Rikki Ducornet

or Donald Fagen

I lost all their numbers

Elizabeth Bishop, it would have been easy

the only boy in a class of four

reflex genuflector

a virgin without condoms or MFA

such are the wonder daze

Lowell, too

Phil Levine was outraged

I just walked out

I knew frenzy up in smoke

I was looking for the door

But the madman was checking the windows

14th floor, that ain’t pretty

Now, get this, it’s not a moral thing

certainly not the vision thing either

I’m blind as a bat

Governor Edwards next door, if he was running against them

he would have said, I slept with them all

in the lap of luxury he shits where he eats

me, it’s a quandary, a conundrum

it brings out the sandra in me

i start wearing berets

my voice slides up an octave or two

i prowl tattoo parlors late at night for full body frescoes

black Madonnas on my xiphoid process

HEB candles burning down my sighs

friend of mine, her list includes Duke

not the futzy cowboy, but the A Train

I’m not even sure Mother Theresa could have pulled that off

pretty socks over pretty ankles

long slender toes in leather slippers

hound’s-tooth bathrobe at the piano, you’ve got one hell of a serenade

i don’t care how indigo you’re feeling

what future geniuses were not begot?

[Image: Bed of Dreams: Kathy Ostman-Magnusen]

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34 Comments:

Blogger Stan Ski said...

When you consider the mistakes others have made, then bragging about what you've not done (rather than failed to do) is fair comment.

12:42 AM  
Blogger Rob Kistner said...

if you've not slept with zappa and all his mothers -- then you have no bragging rights... ;)

"I am the slime cummin' outta your radio..."

This piece you posted had wit, and a nice edge -- I was drawn in to the end... well done

3:55 AM  
Blogger Rinkly Rimes said...

Next time write about the ones you have slept with! Would the list be as long?

5:57 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Stan: I appreciate the distinction.

Rob: You're absolutely right: this is a list of those I would not have: Zappa and his MOI would not have me. What does that say about them?

Rinkly: What do think this is? Kiss and tell? It might not be longer, but it just might be wider.

6:29 AM  
Blogger anno said...

Not even Elizabeth Bishop? The reserves of steely will you must possess!

I loved this response -- it made me laugh, and, well, I always like to laugh.

7:30 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

anno: Nothing steely about it in the least. Such were my priorities my senior year, I walked out of classes by EB and Robert Lowell. "I ain't workin' that hard, this year." I shoulda "slept" with 'em both, though truly, RL's energy was that of a black hole.

Now Ducornet? That was steel.

7:58 AM  
Blogger Beth said...

I read this last night and laughed out loud. What a lovely take on lists and how we measure the past, with twists of name and time and place that bring surprise. Of course, Elizabeth Bishop. I loved the inclusions and the exclusions, every one, and ending so masculine with begats. May you sleep warmly in peace. And I checked out your posted artist. She paints mermaids.

11:33 AM  
Blogger Devil Mood said...

heheh this is really good!
Silly me, I hadn't read the title for some reason, so I read it twice with a different interpretation each time. ;)

11:37 AM  
Blogger Autrice DelDrago said...

OMG I loved the beginning! I can brag and say that I went to bed with the Cramps. haha. I enjoyed your Scribbling.

12:56 PM  
Blogger B. Roan said...

I believe this will be the most unique post of all. Thanks for a good laugh. BJ

1:33 PM  
Blogger Linda Jacobs said...

I love this! I coudln't stop reading it!

1:43 PM  
Blogger alister said...

You’re a delightfully complicated being, Mr Genius. You went to Walden’s Pond because you “wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life,” the birds and the bees, the pollen, and all. And look what happened! The list of nots is long so that you have some left over to love the likes of us, testing the climate to take a journey to steal Saturn. As for me, my spirit hovers over Fine Line Tattoos in Mesquite where I got my first two. Ask for Mike.
missalister

7:33 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Beth: Thank you for the blessings and the appreciation. It all started as a goofy office conversation and went on from there. There really was an Ellington "abstinent."

9:41 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Devilish One: I skip titles a lot, probably because my own so often DO NOT signify. Glad you had some fun, both times.

9:44 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Autrice: I live to scribble, and your "Cramps" comment cracks me up every time I read it.

9:45 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Glad you joined the fun, BJ.

9:46 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Thank you, Linda. You can stop reading now.

9:48 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Alright, Lady A, swell the braggart's head bigger than it already is. These allusions to Saturn: you're not going all Sun Ra on me now, are you? I believe it's indeed a fine line for you, Mistress Avatar, but I also believe they ain't enough Texas to ever provide enough hover-land for your Big Sky Spirit.

9:52 PM  
Blogger b said...

I could say "set it to music and it would be perfect"...but why mess with a thing that sings on it's own.

b

1:00 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

b: I'll let you burn the soundtrack: just no P Como, and certainly no Duke: wouldn't want to tempt fate twice, now would we?

1:10 PM  
Blogger anno said...

Thanks for stopping by -- I enjoyed hearing from you.

You might not have been quite so happy to have me around last Friday, though, if you'd known that my first strategy when playing chess, is to clear the board of one or two pieces (sacrificing even my own!) just to have some room to move around. Get the game down to just a few pieces, though, and then I'm good for going in for the kill.

About teaching math... I fear that if people figured out how much fun it is, more would be trying to do it. That's why most of us walk around with dour expressions on our faces afterwards, and we never wear our red dancing shoes to work. Like that mother baking Rice Krispie treats while locked in the kitchen, we want other people to imagine that we suffer.

Writing teachers, though? Now there's a job that takes real character. They are the few who number among the truly sublime!

1:41 PM  
Blogger alister said...

Aw man you sure know howta make one o’ those heart glows happen :-) About Saturn… Naw, Paschal, it ain’t nothin’ as big as that, but I’ll give you a big hint ;-)

2:54 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Ms A: That is one fine painting (and series), is it not?

May I just say, while we're getting all allegorical, that your palindromic rave was a very fine piece of Swiftian Sun-worthy subversion.

4:36 PM  
Blogger Tammie Lee said...

Myyyy goodness, this comment list is quite the addition to your chuckle out loud poetry. I love your take on this proooompt. And I must agree with:
You’re a delightfully complicated being!

6:06 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Tammie: Glad you're having fun. I don't know about that complicated part: I'm just an inveterate goofball.

8:18 PM  
Blogger Tammie Lee said...

goofball eh, so glad you are having fun!

9:32 PM  
Blogger anno said...

That old transformation artist Death sounds like a good match for the Snake and the Scorpion in your chart. And, I'm not sure why, but it seems like a good match for the poetry you write, as well.

I have a fair amount of Scorpio in my chart, too. Surprises everybody. Must be outweighed by being born in the year of the Dog. So it seems that I'm not a real Scorpio.

P.S. I'm not a real math teacher, either. I just pretend to be one on Mondays. And then I spend the rest of the week thinking about it.

7:01 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

anno: As Forrest's mother would say, "Scorpio is as Scorpio does." (Ironically enough, Forrest's actress mom and I share the same birthday.)

It's all in the attitude and aspiration: not everyone aspires to be a pointed crustacean. Subversive math teacher? I'd say you qualify.

8:23 PM  
Blogger rebecca said...

I've not slept with them either although you can add eddie veder and Clive Owens (*sigh*) to my list to name a few - although a girl can dream, n'est pas?

As usual, your writing and creativity blows my mind - where on earth did you come from? You are not of this world ;)

11:02 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Rebecca: Good to hear from you, my friend. No other worlds, I assure you. Like all good little crustaceans, I just crawled out from under a rock. And it wasn't even Mr. Eliot's red rock. This part of the world, more likely limestone rock.

5:34 AM  
Blogger lili11 said...

I like this very much. Enjoyed it. Thanks for posting. You call yourself Murat11. Makes me wonder - why 11? Hey, I'm lili11 ...

10:02 AM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Lili11: Glad you enjoyed the post. Murat is my middle name; the eleventh month is my birth month.

10:12 AM  
Blogger San said...

I like the way this poem moves from the piled-up catalog of those not slept with to the broadened stories of ever-more-elaborate circumstance, ever-more-elaborate silk scarves.

Out of a hat.

3:05 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

San: Nice to have your words back over here at the campfire. Always welcome and affirming.

Hats off to you, sister.

3:42 PM  

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