How To Disappear Completely

it's like smoothies for adults...

Christmas passed with cheer on the Funke Farms. Gone are the days when we woke up at 6am and jumped on our parents' bed. These days our parents come and jump on our beds. But at least we have Christa to keep us all on track. Otherwise we would never get around to opening gifts. We would simply putter round the house, enjoying the fresh coffee and eggnog (did you know that pouring eggnog in hot coffee causes some sort of chemical reaction? at least, the coffee threatens to boil over for a brief moment; makes me wonder if we should be mixing these drinks so early in the morning), and nibbling on stollen (I'm telling you, those Dutch might claim superiority, but nothing beats being German on Christmas morning).

Some highlights included receiving an anthology of bad poetry. Make that very bad poetry. Anna and I agreed that it was rather fortuitous that the poetry was clearly labeled, otherwise we might have been tempted to like some of it, and then where would our aesthetic taste have gone? To the dogs, I'm telling you. We need clearly defined boundaries or we'll never know what we like.

However, I did agree with the book's assessment of the Victorian genre of "baby talk" poems. Not only are they extremely hard to read (much like the "dialect" poems of early 20th century American poetry) but they are all about angelic children who cheerfully live horrific existences: "The Happy Little Cripple" would hardly fly in a politically correct anthology today.

Here is another gem lifted straight from the book:

"The Most Anticlimatic Poem
It is no easy task to take a dramatic subject and, through a line of ill-conceived verse, rob it of all drama whatsoever. Yet this is what the very bad poet does. The more advanced very bad poet takes it one step further--writing about a banal subject and descending to the more banal with a thud.

from The Grand Rapids Cricket Club by Julia A. Moore
When Mr. Dennis does well play,
His courage is full great,
And accidents to him occur,
But not much though, of late."

Best bad poetry title: "Lines Written for a Friend on the Death of His Brother, Caused by a Railway Train Running Over Him Whilst He Was in a State of Inebriation." I suppose the only difference between this and Hilaire Belloc is that the latter was intentionally comedic whereas the bad poet was not...one can but love the cautionary tale... ("And that, children, is why you always leave a note!" ~Arrested Development)

I also watched The Devil and Daniel Johnston, which might have been a mistake on Christmas day because it was rather depressing. But fascinating, if you are into music, mental illness, artistic creation, or a combination of all three.

And we had margheritas in the evening. As my mom blended the ice, mix, and tequila together I remarked, "Hey, it's just like smoothies for adults."

Currently listening to Into the Woods soundtrack...Next up is The Apple Tree soundtrack. In high school, my mom was involved with this musical and so she sings the songs to us on occasion. Especially this one, which makes me smile...

What Makes Me Love Him?