• vcr day •

I’m looking at a stack of movies.(Whup, I’ve been “organizing” again… does it never END?)
I’m thinking about a VCR day.
Come to think of it, I’ve never seen Notting Hill. Can you believe it? (I’ve, finally, I think, pretty much gotten over my aversion to what’s-his-name; I hear Julia Roberts gets (got) good reviews, but I’ll be the judge of that. (My mom had a thing about ‘her mouth’. I couldn’t see it, “What, ma, it’s UPSIDE DOWN??!!” I’d speculate.
What she’d say, I couldn’t make out, something about a horse, I think…but I digress.)
Oh, man. Frantic. Paris, France, International Intrigue. Harrison Ford and Betty Something…I met her, once, at an elevator landing. It was on the fritz. The elevator. You know, for a little woman, she could make a big sound. Still, though, thoroughly nice, to the core, to be sure, and neat as a pin, and, “Oh, my,” (as my Gran used to say,) “She’s no bigger ’round, than a MINUTE!!”
BUCKLEY. Betty. SEE!!?
I knew I’d get it, eventually. (Not exactly one for the quick comeback. I shall be the first to admit it. Insult me at midnight, and I shall have devised such a Retort of Devastation that you’d just better be glad that I didn’t come up with it ’till three, when you, like most sane folk, are somewhere safe, neatly tucked in bed, and sound asleep. But, I digress.)
Wow! I haven’t seen The Mummy since forever. (I wonder if the CGI will ‘hold up’, and, oh, heck, I haven’t been really, really bugged, by what’s-his-name, the fake Tarzan dude, in years. I don’t think I’ll even get nauseated, just looking at him, and that’s before he speaks…as I once may have done. See? That’s progress.
What? Moulin Rouge!!? God, I love, that, what’s-his-name, that Brit, Jim Broadbent, I think (see, I could just look at the box, but such is the ethical aspect of my views on ‘research’, it these days of, “Cause I said so.” Hey, I grew up in (such) days….”Don’t bother me with the FACTS son!” Oh, dear, I’m getting all verklempt, just thinking about it, it’s like Old Home Week.)
I love Broadbent’s voice, and style, and seamless expertise, whew!!
Oh, man. Casablanca…forgive me, I think I may have got a little light-headed, there.
Where was I, oh, yes.
How I used to adore a VCR.
And, as to movies, and whot-not, I’ve got too many to count. How I’ve loved them, over the years. I’ve been away, too long, I feel.
So, why not, maybe…renew an old love affair?
But then (this may need a re-think), there’s…what’s-his-name…
~ Tim Burchfield
11/12/17

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• it’s hard to remain angry in a zen household •

My ‘get up and go’,
has apparently absented the building,
leaving no forwarding address,
and has taken the dogs,
most of my collectibles,
and what remained
of my ‘speaking’ relatives, with,
and I’m not sure I don’t
feel the better for it.
Damned ‘get up and go’,
who needs anything
so ambulatory anywhoo!
Not me, and that’s for sure!!
If I never see it’s delicate,
fleet-footed ferret face
again, it will be too soon!!
(I would slam a door, here, but,
I have installed all ‘pocket doors’,
in my comely abode,
so I’ll just quietly slide this one
until it slides snugly into its
snug little ‘pocket door’
‘landing pad’.
Sorry.)
~ Tim Burchfield
10/6/17

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• lonely •

I love that word,
lonely.
Even as a misnomer,
it’s a myth.
But a myth that gives credence
to a feeling
that is a first indicator
of an open mind:
the one on the other side
of your head.
Feed it. Listen to it.
Ask it what it wants,
to feel happy.
It will speak in dreams,
and impressions,
and (sometimes) songs
and other voices.
The word is a signpost
of an open line,
a siren song,
a gift.
~ Tim Burchfield
9/21/17

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• imagine a world of ‘good listeners’ •

(Would it really be all that much better?)
My parents didn’t think so,
and I think they were right.
We, too, have an important job to do.
‘Ignorers’ of the world, unite!
~ Tim Burchfield
9/19/17

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• experimental archeology •

Friend, ‘Fitz’ told me
the ‘oil’ of the husk
of the black walnut (nut)
makes a very good (wood) stain.
This is my attempt
at extracting the ‘black gold’
with
(no, not ‘Nerds running wild!’)
curiosity-driven,
sensible,
austere,
‘experimental archeology’.
~ Tim Burchfield
9/1/17

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• storm courage •

It’s funny how stoic we can become
when we are scared for someone.
I call it, ‘storm courage’,
which, I suppose, I learned
as a little one.
“Worrying won’t accomplish anything,”
I heard myself saying.
“We’ll just have to wait for news,
at this point; until then,
there’s nothing to be done.”
But you do, (worry) anyway,
but inwardly, and don’t let on.
Why do we do that?
Where does it come from?
Maybe we think if we give in to fears,
so readily, at the mere suggestion,
when disasters do come,
that we’ll lose our heads
while in the midst of one.
Or scare the kids with a suggestion,
of a negative outcome.
I’m not sure, it’s a strange phenomenon.
But it’s set in me, now,
like DNA, like a tribal rite,
like a religion,
and, so, as a matter of course,
I pass it along.
~ Tim Burchfield
8/26/17

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