Algorepoetgenic Verbal Warming (and other pieces of temporal magnificents)

I woke up this morning anxious to see what I might have blogged yesterday, only to discover that I never posted. I know I had an unending string of brilliant thoughts fueled by the after-effects of anesthesia for a minor out-patient thingy... I just can't remember what they were. According to my wife, I was like the "is this real life" YouTube kid on his ride home from the dentist.

I'm pretty sure the Michael Jackson Jesus juice - milk of sleepnezia put me on a much higher plain of thought, but alas! these pieces of temporal magnificents have dissipated into the etheral atmospheric vapors alongside Al Gore's poetry.

Speaking of Gore's poetry: You may be one of those Algore poetry deniers, but I assure you - "It's not a question of debate. It's like gravity; it exists."



Some call it "junk poetry", but I call it algorepoetgenic verbal warming.

Vapors rise as
Fever settles on an acid sea

OK, this paints an EXACT word picture of what happens to me after that second bowl of chili. And to think that for a few more uncounted hanging chads, this man could have been our president! *sigh*

At least Vanity Fairs' Mark Hertsgaard gets it!

21 lines of verse that are equal parts beautiful, evocative, and disturbing... It’s odd that none of the reviews of Our Choice have mentioned this poem... The result is a surprisingly accomplished, nuanced piece of writing. The images Gore conjures in his (untitled) poem turn a neat trick: they are visually specific and emotionally arresting even as they are scientifically accurate.

I think Hertsgaard just had a Gore crush leg shiver.

One thin September soon
A floating continent disappears
In midnight sun

OK, I suspect I know who else has been dipping into the demerol. The point is, the beauty of Gore's prose tends to take on a different meaning for all. Like multi-facets of the same diamond. For me, that last verse is a continuation of the chili theme, with "September" symbolizing "bathroom", and my toilet as the "midnight sun". You can figure out the rest.

The shepherd cries
The hour of choosing has arrived
Here are your tools

Tools? Pass the two-ply old growth! (courtesy of dr. hirkimer)


In conclusion, I just found notes of my drug-induced thoughts from yesterday. Huh! I coulda swore I was on to something... but it now eludes me. Here's a sample. It goes on for several pages.

All work and no play makes DaBlade a dull boy. All work and no play makes DaBlade a dull boy.All work and no play makes DaBlade a dull boy.All work and no play makes DaBlade a dull boy.All work and no play makes DaBlade a dull boy.All work and no play makes DaBlade a dull boy...