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Pix: Extra photos from Lovecraft's 1916 poem "Providence Amateur Press Club (Deceased) to the Athenaeum Club of Journalism" in Harvey, Illinois.
A. Down the Rabbit Hole...
B. And into the Dark Web.
C. Ossian, greatest ancient bard ever?
D. Now, this is the proper setting for a Southern ghost story...
E. Fear of the darkness come to life!
F. When you know something really bad is about to happen...
G. And, when you don't suspect a thing...
H. That's All, Folks!
(Thanks, Porky.)
End.
Pix: Extra pictures from PAPC (Deceased) to the ACJ (Part 1).
A & B. Two beaches along Rhode Island's shore.
C & D. Either the evolution of a gag cover or one heck of a coincidence!
That's a cover from the long lamented but professional fanzine The Crypt of Cthulhu.
"In strange eons, even death may die."
Bring Back the Crypt!!
E. A modern AI(?) picture of Ye Olde Racist Writer, H. P. Lovecraft - smiling.
Brr...
That's the third time that smiling has come up concerning Howard this week!
Is that like celebrities dying in threes?
End.
Pix:
A. Lovecraft's idea of a lordly poet - something he'd never achieve.
HPL's fame would come but, after his death - he died thinking he was a failure...
B. "Forbids us to laugh."
C. "Horribly rough & unmanly as well."
D. Bard of the Undead.
E. Bard of the Apocalypse!
F. Moliere's funny "Bungler."
G. "Give vent to my smile..."
Intro: This is the 6th of 6 poems that HPL published on October 1916.
Title: "On Kelso the Poet¹."
Text:
Poor Kelso the Poet, defending his verse,
Forbids us to laugh, since we're like² to write worse.
Sure, 'tis horribly rough & unmanly as well,
To sneer at a bard³ whom you cannot excel!
But, I'm thinking, myself, that although I am told
That my rhyming is bad & my manner be old⁴,
It would hardly be difficult, dull though I be,
To prove I'm not quite such a bungler⁵ as he.
So in spite of his warning, I must, for a while,
Give vent to my feelings by cracking a smile⁶!
Notes:
1. "Kelso" is presumed to be one Guy H. Kelso, a member of the Providence Amateur Press Club, this was a short- lived amateur writer's 'circle' that was affiliated with the main UAPA.
He was a carpenter whose poetry was disliked by Lovecraft & the other club members.
2. "Like", here, is a poetic shortening of "likely."
3. Bards are Celtic poets & historians, roaming ancient Ireland, Scotland, Wales & Gaul (France).
4. 'Old' was Lovecraft's manner of writing.
His style imitated the formality of British writers from the 1800s.
Being that he was a big Anglophile, that shouldn't be much of a surprise.
But, as an amateur journalist, he went a little power mad - promoting that archaic style & forbidding the use of modern slang & phrases!
He even wrote a condescending how- to writer's guide that discarded with natural & realistic dialogue.
He further asked would-be writers to avoid reading modern books & totally rejected popular writing styles - except for the pulps.
Not good advice for anybody.
But then, HPL was a bit of a dilettante - with a few great ideas & the inability to learn from those who wrote beyond his own style.
His mind, when writing, was ever in the past.
Yet, he was a good host - quite up to date on the events & politics of his day.
Go figure!
5. A "Bungler" is someone who does accomplish things - but, badly done...
They're either, careless or just stupid.
The worst of them are incompetent & useless all of the time!!
6. Smile!
Brr!!
That's twice in one year that HPL has written about smiling...
(See "The Smile" - earlier on this same page & good luck on finding it!)
Next: Extra photos & research.
Perfect as perfect comes.
Each strand of hair numbered with care
Forever on his heart
As palms your name engraved
From whence thou came from, the doting refrain, ‘very good’ cease not
Precious to him, the apple of his eye
Mindful of you, will take care of you till silver streaks the bristles gather
Backstage tings #sisterhood #communityradio #poetry #BlackGirlMagic #PAPC (at The Red Rattler Theatre)
Pizza and Pop Culture || Clint & Steve
Toppings. Which toppings did Steve want to put on the pizza? With everything that’s been going on -- looking for Bucky, taking down HYDRA, calming down riots, and getting engaged -- he found that he was spectacular at failing to keep in contact with people. He should know better than to waste the time that he had, knowing that it could disappear so quickly. All he has are excuses, and he knows that he can be better than that. Steve and Clint has had a few online correspondences, and while this would mark the first time that Steve is visiting Clint’s apartment, he could say that he’s already met the roommate. (It was a very interesting meeting.)
With an extra-large supreme combo pizza in one hand and a liter of cola tucked into the crook of his arm, Steve made his way up to Clint’s apartment. A few of his neighbors had given him the side-eye, but he figured that it must have been because he was a new face. Yeah. That’s it. Not because he was a tall, blond white guy with enough pizza to serve a party full of guests.
Steve sighed. He wasn’t any good at the socializing thing, but he was good at the getting caught up on pop culture thing. In fact, he would like to call himself an expert. People had thrown suggestion after suggestion at him, sometimes at his request and sometimes at their solicitation. So, Steve had choices. One of the ones he had particularly been interested in was Back to the Future, yet the film was blocked because of the science. Steve was 99% sure that he could get Tony to revoke the ban, but it was more fun to watch it behind his back to later make references to it. (His fiancé would come around to watching it with him again anyway.)
He knocked on Clint’s door, hoping the archer wasn’t too sore to move.
Noches.
Y es que es en las noches cuando más le extraño, porqué sé que como yo, usted está aguardando que el tiempo se detenga, que pueda cerrar los ojos y al abrirlos su cuerpo esté junto al mío, sus mano rodeándome y mis manos recorriendo su cuerpo.
Son en noches como esta, en las que más pienso en usted, porqué sé que como yo, usted está observando el cielo por la ventana, escuchando el sonido del cigarro quemando en medio del silencio de la noche, y conteniendo las ganas de hablarnos el uno al otro. Ahogándonos en iras, inundándonos con pensamientos... Cegados por el orgullo.
¿A caso somos tan estúpidos como para no darnos cuenta que es ese maldito orgullo el que nos ha alejado, y el que nos hace herirnos a cada momento? Por mi parte ya lo he intentado, he dejado el orgullo a un lado por un momento y he decidido escribirle esto. Estas líneas en las que solo busco mi redención, solo busco un camino a casa. Un camino a sus brazos.
Ahora, amada mía, no pido más que abandones tu escudo de la indiferencia y me hables como en su momento lo hicimos. Solo pido que me permitas ver una vez mas esos ojos en los que tanto amo perderme, solo pido que me permitas contemplar esos tus labios que me estremecen con cada movimiento que hacen.
Solo pido que estés junto a mí esta noche.
Huge shout out to all of Kenny Robertson's sponsors! Great fight Kenny! @franchisecustoms @supportachamp #PAPC #StanleySteemer #UFC175 #ASA
