Wednesday, September 03, 2014

Poem for Wednesday and Renfaire Joust

Year of the Amateur
By Cathy Park Hong

        Recall the frontier when the business
of memory booms, when broadbands uncoil
        and clouds swell with sticky portals, amassing
        to a monsoon of live-streams.
        Burn your chattel to keep the cloud afloat
so its tears can freeze to snow.
        The voice flatlines in this season of pulp:
The artist makes miniature churches out of drain pulp,
The Indonesian rainforest is pulped,
the last illuminated gold leaves are pulped so we
        gather and watch an otter nom nom
sweet urchin to a pulp.
We laugh softly.

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Tuesday was a catch-up day in every regard, which was fine because I had so much to do in the house that I had an excuse not to go outside in the ongoing muggy weather until evening. I was a week behind on laundry and have not made a dent in various cleaning projects in more than a week. I also did a bunch of computer research and other things too boring to report. We had thunderstorm warnings all day, though the rain did not arrive till evening and between storms we had a lovely sunset-hour rainbow. It is, however, still pretty warm and very muggy.

We had dinner at CPK with Angela, Karen, and their husbands, after not having seen them for weeks despite living 15 minutes from one another because our summers have been so crazy. Then we came home and watched ABC's Making of 'Frozen' special, which put myself and Cheryl in the mood to watch an animated movie, and since she couldn't find her copy of Frozen, we watched The Road to El Dorado instead. Speaking of Europeans in the New World, jousting at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire on Sunday:


No matter how dignified the Pennsylvania Renfaire ultimate joust appears at the start...


...it always ends with a brawl and a fire around the castle.


This is because there tend to be explosions during the final tournament.


Guess which knight rode in to the music from Thor?


And he was defeating the defiant knight who wanted a fight to the death till things started blowing up.


Young, hot King Henry VIII (think The Tudors, not the Tudors) had to step in personally.


After all, pretty much all his knights had been knocked out by one of the explosions!