Stevieslaw: Hi. It’s Jeff.

 

A little bit true.  We were online booksellers before Amazon came in.  We made money first, but they seem to have had a better business plan.

“Hi. It’s Jeff.”
We started in our basement. They followed a few years later in their garage. We both sold used books on line. That was as close as we came to being Amazon.
They knew very little about selling books. Jeff would call a few times a day. “We’ve bought thousands,” he asked. “How do you price them?”
“We use the industry recommended technique,” we explained patiently. “Get five large garbage cans. Label the cans $5 through $25 by fives. Line them up with the lowest price nearest you and toss the books into the cans. Mark the books that miss, “rare.” For those, pick a price that makes you smile.”
Jeff was on the cover of Young Entrepreneur. In the interview, he described his garbage can method for pricing books. Not a word of thanks. We sent him a copy of “How to Win Friends and Influence People,” by Dale Carnegie. Do you think he read it?
“I bought a mess of musty books,” he whined. “What do I do now?”
“Put the books in a bucket of cat litter for exactly 30 hours,” we told him generously. “Then shake them out, flare them open, and direct a strong fan on them. After precisely two weeks, you must set them out in the afternoon sun. An hour or two should do. Then throw them out.”
Jeff did an interview on CNBC. When asked about musty books, he whispered “cat litter.” We did not get a mention. We sent him a musty copy of Catch 22.
“Condition is driving me nuts,” he practically screamed. “How do I describe condition?”
“Everything is very good to someone,” we said kindly. “Label the ratty stuff “scarce”and sell it high.”
Jeff was interviewed by Time Magazine, the week before his IPO. He fielded the book stuff with aplomb. “Everything is very good to someone,” he said of condition.
We sent him a 5 ton crate of old German family bibles—the only books that no one, ever, has been able to resell.
That Sunday, Jeff had an ad in The NY Times Book Review. It read: “Incredible find! Free old German bible with any order over $100. While they last!”
“One swell deal,” we thought, and were almost tempted to order.
Jeff only called once again. “I’ve decided to become a re-reseller,” he said, sounding happier. “I’ll let people like you deal with the booky stuff and I’ll just take a commission.”
“I hate books,” he said and hung up.
We helped make Amazon what they are today. No finders fee. No thank you. Not even a gift card we could use to buy back that slightly musty copy of Catch 22, which is ratty enough to be rare.

Posted in gang gang dance, Humor, parody | Tagged , | 2 Comments

Stevieslaw: Soul on Ice

I am doing some research into the happenings of 1968, a truly terrible year, with the thought that it might cheer me up about the present. I came across this quote from Eldridge Cleaver in Soul on Ice. Perhaps, it’s deja vu all over again.

“It is not an overstatement to say that the destiny of the entire human race depends on what is going on in America today. This is a staggering reality to the rest of the world; they must feel like passengers in a supersonic jet liner who are forced to watch helplessly while a passel of drunks, hypes, freaks, and madmen fight for the controls and the pilot’s seat. —ELDRIDGE CLEAVER, Soul on Ice, 1968”

Posted in gang gang dance, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Stevieslaw: My poem, Triangles, is up at Eclectica

The Jan/Feb edition of Eclectica is just up and my poem Triangles is in it.  Here is the link to the entire issue:

http://eclectica.org

And here is the poem:

Triangles

You and I
speak
of Euclid,
of geometry
and quickly
find our way
to triangles.
You say
“the sum of
interior angles
must equal
180 degrees.”
“And yet,”
I remind you
needlessly,
“triangles
manifest
in infinite ways.”
“Equilateral,”
you say—
“with oddly
equitable sides.”
“Surely rare,”
I add.
“Right triangles,”
I proclaim,
and usher
Pythagoras in—
the old Greek
quaking in his
timelessness.
We three
recite
the rigid
law of squares
and marvel
at the birth
of trigonometry.

Yet you seem
more interested
in oddish angles—
and delight
in scalene,
acute,
and best of all
obtuse.
“Moreover,”
you point out,
while donning
galoshes,
“even those
with two arms
that grow
boundlessly
cannot exist
without a third,
though it may shrink
to nearly nothing.”

“And, if
it vanishes,
what might
you call
the two remaining
sides?”
I ask,
of the resulting
emptiness.

 

Posted in gang gang dance, Humor, poetry | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Stevieslaw: Exceptionalism

 

Political? Perhaps.

Exceptionalism

I only managed a single bite,
before I passed it on.
We passed so many things on then–
wine and weed and one another.
I think we thought it noble.

No one knew the name of that exquisite cheese.
Wealthy parents had sent it from France
and the package was as forgotten
as yesterday’s friendships.
But that single taste
stayed with me, it seems,
although in those days,
we had no trouble parting with anything.

I felt it was my taste of the highlife.
A sliver of the very best.
Have you lived the highlife?
Every whim attended
with silence and precision.
We thought in our innocence
that we would change the world.
Perhaps, we have.
But, I thought we’d make it better.

I searched for that odd talisman
while cobbling a life
I seemed barely involved in.
But, I had no name
and my description matched
a hundred different cheeses.
And anyway, why would you care?
Why should anyone ever care?

Posted in gang gang dance, poetry | 6 Comments

Stevieslaw: Card Players at Ekphrastic Review

 

My poem “The Card Players” is up today at Ekphrastic Review.   Here is the link:

http://www.ekphrastic.net

And here is the poem:

The Card Players

Each night, these three—
Nathan, Henri and Charles
make ritual of rummy.
“To pass the time,”
they might offer,
should they so honor your question.
Henri, in beige, so often wins,
the others call him master.
His word is law in all things agricultural.
Poor Albert, skilless,
watches wordlessly,
drawing comfort from his pipe.

I paint and sketch
And daily dream I hear—
“Paul, won’t you play?”
“Yes,” I say in a wink.
My spattered hands somehow
completed by the cards,
I sit with hat drawn deeply down
to hide my thought-filled eyes.
I play with verve and brilliance.
I am gallant in my dream.
But the invitation never comes—
and its lofty cousin, acceptance,
never finds its way to me—
to poor Cézanne,
the master of rejection.

 

Posted in gang gang dance, poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Stevieslaw: The Joy of Home Ownership

Stevieslaw: The Joy of Home Ownership

We had a candlelight celebration at the house last night. We had a high temperature of -4 this weekend and not a single pipe froze—what a difference a year makes.

We did have a small problem last week when the sewer pipe clogged up again. It does that three or four times a year. Roots from an old maple tree grow into the clay pipes and start the stoppage. It seems strange since we removed the tree about 12 years ago. Ronnie, from Unplug You, was right on it—after just a three day wait. It really makes you think about the joys of indoor plumbing.

The front walk is buckling. Come spring, I need to get someone to dig out the concrete out and repave it. While they’re at it, I might as well replace the clay pipes underneath, although I’ll miss talking to Ronnie.

The windows in the bedroom no longer close completely. Funny, that seemed fine in the spring. And the lighting in the back bathroom is apparently set to flicker. Bulbs—including those that are supposed to last forever, give up the ghost after a day or two.

I’m starting to get concerned about the sinkhole in the yard. It’s growth is definitely accelerating. The side door to the garage is no longer closing and the whole structure has an odd lean. I’m thinking I may be parking in the sinkhole by next summer.

Oh, we repainted the basement—just before the toilets overflowed because the sewer pipe backed up. The good news is we have left-over paint.

The dishwasher went out of warranty and whack this week. It works as long as you wash the dishes first by hand. We bought it about the same time we bought the fridge—which is shedding little plastic parts all over the kitchen floor. The downstairs freezer decided it was a closet.

I got an “only warning” last week for not cleaning the sidewalks sufficiently after the last snowstorm. Next time it snows I suspect they will fine me. It’s only $50. That’s much better than the price tag ($1500) for the water I used after a garden hose (never kinks, never leaks) split open this summer. It was hidden behind some bushes that weren’t suppose to get more than 3 feet high. I didn’t know it was spewing water until I sunk to my knees in the muck that was once my lawn.

I could go on and on, but you’re probably still wondering why we had a candlelight celebration last night.

Powers out.

Posted in gang gang dance, Humor, parody | 9 Comments

Stevieslaw: What Bobby Told Us.

What Bobby Told Us.

There is a school of thought that would have you drink a cold drink in the cold to warm you up, drink a hot drink in the heat to cool you down,  and play some serious blues music when you’re blue to cheer you up. I’ve tried it and I’m not sure I can recommend it, but for various reasons I have been reading up on the truly miserable year that was 1968–Vietnam, the assassinations of King and Kennedy, and the political rebirth of Richard Nixon—I could go on.

I don’t believe my reading has made me feel any better about 2017, but as a reward for my research, I came upon a statement by Bobby Kennedy—a hero for my generation, who was shot down in his prime.  I imagine sending his statement to Washington—to the Trumps and the Ryans of this world and watching their reaction.  Do you think they would  get it?  When I think of what we are missing in America right now, I find the words a perfect summary—so here they are:

“We will find neither national purpose nor personal satisfaction in a mere continuation of economic progress, in an endless amassing of worldly goods. We cannot measure national spirit by the Dow Jones Average, nor national achievement by the Gross National Product. For the Gross National Product includes air pollution, and ambulances to clear our highways from carnage. It counts special locks for our doors and jails for the people who break them. The Gross National Product includes the destruction of the redwoods and the death of Lake Superior. It grows with the production of napalm and missiles and nuclear warheads. . . . It includes . . . the broadcasting of television programs which glorify violence to sell goods to our children.

And if the Gross National Product includes all this, there is much that it does not comprehend. It does not allow for the health of our families, the quality of their education, or the joy of their play. It is indifferent to the decency of our factories and the safety of our streets alike. It does not include the beauty of our poetry, or the strength of our marriages, the intelligence of our public debate or the integrity of our public officials . . . the Gross National Product measures neither our wit nor our courage, neither our wisdom nor our learning, neither our compassion nor our devotion to our country. It measures everything, in short, except that which makes life worthwhile, and it can tell us everything about America—except whether we are proud to be Americans”

 

 

 

Posted in gang gang dance, Humor, parody, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Stevieslaw: Revision

Revision

Some are irreparable.
It’s as if you snatched them from the bargain bin
at Eddie’s junkyard by the train tracks.
Still, you try the tried and true
Elmer’s glue and duct tape,
shims and string—double knotted.

You ask your friends’ advice.
They gawk and stare
and try to sound hopeful.
They talk of home remedies
vapor rub and sitz baths,
little yellow capsules
that helped their cousin’s cousin
cure one just like yours.

Cannily, you set it aside,
in that hard to reach cupboard in the kitchen,
as if proximity to Campbell’s chicken soup
could cure its commonplaceness,
dispel its warts, heal its wounds,
and make it sing with joy and sorrow.

Too often,
there is nothing for it.
You dress it in all the finery you can find,
pancake on your sister’s makeup,
lipstick and a new do,
and push it out the door.
Gamely, it limps along beside you
trying so terribly hard to smile,
in the judgement of the light of day.

Posted in gang gang dance, Humor, poetry | 4 Comments

The Birth of the Blues

This was to be a short poem cycle. Perhaps, it will get there.

The Drabble's avatar

vines-2935678_1280

By Stevieslaw

A weathered vine
made taut
through an accident of ice
moans
in the wintry wind.

View original post

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

warmth on the winter solstice.

Nice. Let kind words abound.

beth's avatarI didn't have my glasses on....

“one kind word can warm three winter months.”

~japanese proverb

painting by: alisa black – ‘a winter’s day’

View original post

Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments