On Writing Poorly

Okay, I'm thinking about writing something of greater length. I'm not quite shooting for the novel length like my friend and fellow writer John Schellhase (who is planning a novel currently). However, I was thinking about writing a Short Epic (note the irony). Here's the deal, though: I'm torn between actually writing it in verse like with traditional heroic epic or furthering the genre-based irony by writing a Short Epic in Prose. This is ironic, of course, because epics are typically neither short nor in prose. I think I'm a better poet than fiction writer, so I imagine that writing in verse would be to my advantage. However, I wonder if it would just be funnier as prose. Right now, I'm leaning towards prose.

Nonetheless, by summer's end, I hope to have completed The Georgead: A Short Epic (in Prose). I aplogize in advance to any Bush-sympathizers and/or Republicans who have happened their way upon my blog. The idea is to write a parody of the Bush administration setup like a classic epic. I would, of course, make Bush the sort-of antihero of the story--parodying several traditions of epic literature. The idea is to set the story on a smaller scale. I was thinking he would be Chief of a large fictional village. John Schellhase suggested doing something totally off-the-wall and having the whole epic be about army men (the little green ones). I don't know what I think about the possibility of his idea becoming my reality, but I will say that it is intriguing at the very least.

Your moral support would be greatly appreciated.

**EDIT: I am truly hoping that this project doesn't turn out like the short film that I planned on writing/directing with Cameron Heger last summer.

Nazis, Crashing Cars, TVs on Radios, and Some Kids from the Cold War

So, this was a pretty eventful day on my trip to Columbia, MO.

11:00 - Lunch at this cool mongolian grill called HuHot. It's pretty sweet.

12:15 - Go to watch a Nazi march.

12:45 - First Nazi sighting. It's pretty scary.

1:00 - Riot almost ensues, so it's now really scary. It's okay, Riot Police got it under control.

2:00 - Finally sit down to watch a recording of the Hog game...hallelujah, we're going to the championship.

5:00 - Go check out this cool bar/coffeeshop--Columbia's version of The Common Grounds.

6:00 - Dinner at this great cajun restaurant called Jazz, complete with seating in the VIP room and a jazz band.

8:30 - Car wreck. I was in Ubben's car, and George rear-ended us. It was a little bit crazy. Everything will be okay once we figure out exactly how we'll get home tomorrow (the suburban has been decommissioned).

9:30 - Finally get the Suburban towed. We're finally off to the show (an hour and a half behind schedule).

10:30 - TV on the Radio takes the stage and rocks the house.

12:00 - We high-tail it over to a different club to see if we can catch Cold War Kids.

12:05 - We get to see the last few songs of Cold War Kids from outside the door. It was cool (and free).

Well, that was eventful. I ate at two great restaurants, was involved in a car accident, saw a jazz band, sort of saw Cold War Kids, and watched TV on the Radio play a killer show. To top it all off, we witnessed a freakin' crazy Nazi protest (complete with people protesting the Nazis). Unbelievable. I'm spent.

**EDIT: So, we figured out how to get home. We're renting a mini-van from Enterprise.

A new poem...

Here's a poem that I've been working on for a couple of weeks. It's pretty cynical and completely sarcastic. If you're a Republican, you'll probably hate it. Just a short warning, I'm not even going to dignify or respond to any sort of ideological rebuttal on the comments. I might read them, but I won't care. If you don't agree, stop reading and keep your lips sealed. If you hate the poem for strictly poetic reasons, feel free to share. Also, if you have any stylistic suggestions, I'd love to hear them. I've though pretty hard about the punctuation in this, so I would love to know what you (avid poetry reader) think about the punctuation. Well, now that I've said way too much about the poem, here it is:

If Jerry Falwell Were King...

We could all sing songs of praise,
For there would be no more gays--
To mock us in contempt or spite,
With pleas for marriage or for rights--
if Jerry Falwell were King.

And no children would die by operation;
They'd all die from the starvation
Capitalists inact upon the poor--
Which we would try to help no more
if Jerry Falwell were King.

We'd have no need for war again:
We'd make the whole world American--
With hands on hearts they'd stand to praise
Truth, Justice, and the American Way--
if Jerry Falwell were King.

But we could finally live in peace--
Enforced by the Religious Police.
We'd have no more need for Jesus--
By law, we would all be sinless--
if Jerry Falwell were King.
(2/14/07 to 2/27/02)