Monday, December 22, 2003

Shipped more this morning. No more orders today so maybe the lull that I've been anticipating is upon me.
Got such a backpack full of books at the library that it hurt my back all the way home.
Got a letter from my loan people that almost meant that I missed my payment for the first time ever due to their incompetence. But I called them and straightened them out. Assertiveness!
Seeing how the day was going I decided that I'd save the larger portion of inputting inventory for tomorrow and go to the comic book store. I'm two collections into the Scary Godmother series now. It's dark fun, just how I like it.
I took Charles to work, then came home and made my version of Surf and Turf. Elk steak and shrimp with Tabasco soaked rice and peas.
At the Liquid Den reading tonight Lob called out for me to read a poem about Elvis. I didn't have one about Elvis, so I wrote one for Lob right after the reading.

for Lob
By Reverend Paul Mathers

Most people don't know this, but Elvis sold something for his talent.
He sold his non-existent time.
He sold the time betwixt his death and his judgement
which is why he has staying power.
He's reliving his life in a loop right now
Or most of it anyway.
The parts we remember.
Every time he takes the codine and sits flab on 1977 toilet
he remembers that first televised appearance when the cameras bisected him
and he starts over from there.
Tonight he just happens to be reliving the worst night of his life.
Pricilla had drifted into cold fish eyes
before Elvis enters limo for late performance
and tiny Lisa, when told she couldn't go with once again,
stamped her foot and said, "I hate you, Daddy."
His disciples are asleep in the next room.
Elvis flops on televise lit bed
and acts like praying
while he waits for pill to hit king blood
and tries and fails to pass out again
before he remembers that it's all uphill from here.


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