tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58120712011-09-28T14:21:10.358-07:00From here to there and back again, or the journey from top to bottom and side to side. An eclectic blog for reviews and poetry. Television, film and theater with an occasional random choice.the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.comBlogger6951100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-64039982461950102222009-12-27T18:37:00.000-08:002009-12-27T19:06:02.475-08:00

Paradox, and awry we go . . . . again. BBC, 2009.Don't get me wrong. Emun Elliot can glare at a computer screen with the best of them. Dark and brooding, self-enamored and closed. Alas and alack, another good concept miscast and misplayed in oh so many ways. I can suspend belief as well as most, but as a threshold, not throughout. The supposed reaction to photos downloading from space depicting

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-78159664541521641072009-12-27T10:56:00.000-08:002009-12-27T18:37:41.573-08:00

Stargate Universe, Defying Gravity2009 has not been kind to sci-fi. It's been the year of the great forgetting. Writers, producers, directors - cumulatively discarding the very essence of sci-fi's attraction. Gone are wonder, amazement, awe. We've been given in their place soapy dilutions; story arcs that forget to tell a story; characters that are neither introspective nor dynamic, merely boring

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-60357630412099449232008-09-08T19:37:00.000-07:002008-09-08T20:18:01.001-07:00

chasing the tranceold ladies, swaying, clappingmoving to that strange unseemly rhythmblue hair, silken, unnatural hairpraying in the dimmery of the daydone chasing lost souls, are they?sit down where the old men hunkerpolished pews, flickered candlesas they watch their womenchase the trance, watch theirtongues call jesusholy, holy, what a fine diversionkeeps me satisfied, keeps me warmain't no

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-55868795372541455862008-09-03T22:54:00.000-07:002008-09-03T23:20:27.374-07:00

feeling the calllooking at pictures, watching them fadeas black into gray, white is no clearerwhen days are gone longyes, momma used to jitterbugin skirts with no pleats, hershoes gone to goodwill, sunday mornphotos of picnics, iced tea and stained laceyes, watching them fadei can rock by the mirror, as afternoon slides, tap my toes in thesummer blown dust, watching them fadegone autumn, gone

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-77830760199633083062008-08-13T18:01:00.000-07:002008-08-14T21:27:04.425-07:00

davey and mewell, davey and me, we'vebeen cryin' in our soupsittin' on our old brown stoolsoh, i was laughin' in the twilightsaddin' in the sunall roun' yesterdaycome fiddle with me, sallymusic makes a ghosttwangin' strings n poundin' keysain't a drummer in the citygot a thing up on this ladoh, but davey and me, we'resad to seejelly beans n brown marshmallowscrispy from the fire, thentake me

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-54378132965057976672008-06-30T20:28:00.000-07:002008-06-30T21:18:28.512-07:00

life, no. 1sittin' with that old man, causing bout the daylaughin' at the lies we've toldthat is a joyous juice he makes,swirlin' brown and smoky, snakeywith a stingi got two brown feet, tired fromrunnin', good for just the two-stepand a lazy eye for nights gone darkmay be you've seen me, chasin' fliesout in the garden, lightnin' in theairyes, lawdy, i'm out sittin' with the oldman, but we've no

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-52466403152628474152008-06-30T19:26:00.000-07:002008-06-30T20:02:17.547-07:00

Canadian Idol, Season 6, Result night top 24Finally, we've emerged from the mire of bad, worse and horrendous to find our Top 24. And their opening performances left everything to be desired. I twitched, squirmed and nearly despaired as I watched one melt-down after another. Of all the seasons of American, Australian and Canadian Idol, this was the worst beginning by a landslide.But a miracle has

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-30960967570837117922008-05-14T20:33:00.000-07:002008-05-14T21:25:03.764-07:00

scattered, in the windi've gone down from heavenmade some wings of saltcan't you smell the ashes scattered ?just like honey in the windyou've been walking for the sundownold black hymnal singing choirasking jesus for a favormomma's child gone worn and frailyou liked your dresses blue in flowerssoft from drying on the lineold hot sun done made you crinkledain't that just the way of things?i've

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-76966304624755149982008-05-06T21:31:00.000-07:002008-05-06T21:55:55.881-07:00

the floathe was an immoderate man, choking d-flats intohis steel horn, riffing down ill-tempered a-sharpsugary crusty donut shaped violationshe throned those iron steps scratched outfrom his bedroom window, splayed his toesshook his arms to free the juicelistening down, waiting out the breathing thatstole a few half-chordal splutters, squint-eyedo-ing his lips to mimic back a fewmaybe he'd coda

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-21272514822384591442008-05-05T20:14:00.001-07:002008-05-05T20:14:57.759-07:00

i have a windowi have a window, made of old stuff, grayed out in the sun, wherei can make my spying, safe and full-up with the warm of day,and it never shadows my careful eye, never leaves me opento the hardness lying by, it is a window special to my taste,obedient to my ways, i am become here preciousi have a savory flavor, and i may cause with you, bring youarias from the world away, pander

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-15707759832019975022008-04-30T20:33:00.000-07:002008-04-30T20:56:15.997-07:00

jimmygentle jimmydied tonight8:04 pm is nearly darknot black in mourningsoft with gray, rich in shadesbut i'll go walkingheel to toecareful where the streetsbend unliti'll jump across the alleywayshiding jimmy's dreamsall full up with feari may be buttrust is trust, all wrappedin care, i think i dolove smoky liquorbrown or gold, caughtby moonlightthen we'll speak bout gentle jimmyor dance the

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-9436048565800767892008-04-12T11:42:00.000-07:002008-04-12T12:43:38.316-07:00

the hot house flowerleg crossed over knee, with fine display oftan socks, loose and overwashed socks, j c penneyseason 1974, no doubt recovered, no doubtdiscarded, or are they beige?he may be seeking treasures, in his boldblue pant, belted closely, firmly held, may beon the chase, pale arms sheltered in a triumphof the clorox corporationas he sits, long fingers tap tap tappingsome times paused,

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-62955062848992942842008-04-12T10:42:00.000-07:002008-04-12T11:27:42.002-07:00

Have you become 'Idolized' ?Does American Idol throw a switch in our otherwise useful, sometimes perspicacious, minds? Has there been some managed and robotic response programmed into the judgment area of our brains? Ponder these probing questions as you sip your double fat free soy lattes, chai teas, sake pomegranate fruities. As your probing inquirer into all things pop or frivolous, I, of

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-34684932680830853032008-04-11T10:44:00.001-07:002008-04-12T10:41:13.744-07:00

American TV - what ARE you thinking?Interesting gradually morphs into mediocre. And then, oof, slides into the Big Yawn. So goes CBS with its aging concept crime shows: Numb3rs, Criminal Minds, CSI-Miami.We've never minded the formulaic. It's a comforting and comfortable approach deeply imbedded in pop culture. Its origins are far from humble - the Greeks made ample use of stock characters and

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-60417859448896471302008-04-11T10:42:00.001-07:002008-04-11T10:42:48.378-07:00

Vaudeville, Ethel Merman and the revival of the 'Big Note'There's a visceral response to the big, long note - perhaps held precariously - that seeks its outlet beyond the confines of a theater. It can overshadow a raw, unkempt performance. It can erase the ouch of off-key, badly timed phrasing. It is the KO at the end of a mismatch, but the KO of an expected one-sided loser.Unfortunately, it's

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-29552670877681435192008-04-09T20:32:00.000-07:002008-04-09T20:54:24.905-07:00

losti'm gone lostmercyand i'm gone out of dreamsain't i?yes, i say i been travelinfar off places, causeyou love your bitsof sweet romancelovin butterflies, darkerflowers, glowin in the shadeso i kiss you full of mysteriesdon't i?breathless, you sit and listenand for you i'll shape some wordsround, fullsome, and cut awaythe bitterbut i'm gone out of dreamsbeen flowed over, lyin in the sunnear

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-66108064491467270752008-04-02T21:21:00.000-07:002008-04-02T22:36:35.712-07:00

i ami am the healing manoh lordy, full of comforti amand you have fallenout of grace, and lie therehungry, butwere you ever just an angeland i am never blindedin the darki am the comfort manoh lordy, full of healingi amsitting in your windowdrinking full of scenthardlydo you think to weaveand bind me, sorcel mewith magicksi am the dancing manoh lordy, jealous in the hoursi amso call out, call

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-3356054048945145222008-03-18T22:47:00.000-07:002008-03-18T23:25:22.569-07:00

ifchurchy boys, wauling down on 7th streettappy with some hymnals, and jumpingwith their fever, oh lordy, if my old graypants, ifbut i don't listen to the whispering of the sonno sugah, don't make absolution, shining atthe greyhound stop, smiling to the cadillacsclicking nickels, in my old gray pants, ifyoung sammy ran with the hard cap fellaswhile his momma rocked, jumped up to a polkaand sang

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-8318759370475012822008-03-12T20:28:00.000-07:002008-03-12T20:43:54.485-07:00

bees and honeyhoney, i'm sweet as melted buttersee the slippers on my bedroom floortossed, crisscrossed, cause i like my toesall barebrown from swimming in the old maid pondrustling with the willows, fancyingsummer kisses, or was i howlingto the moongone ragged memory tales, jimmy-jaggedmade up tales, telling stories like mydaddy, passing through the windowsdark in nightain't girls that pretty,

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-63532809769971638502008-01-05T17:56:00.000-08:002008-01-05T18:09:09.358-08:00

Primeval, ITV, Season 2, with notes on StargateFinally, we're just days away from the first episode of season 2. Considering the broad disappointment of the current television season in general, this is much more than just a good thing. Saturday, January 12th at 7pm is the day and time to clear your obligations, pre-order your favorite delicacies and cheer, bravo, ole or huzzah.Nearly every

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-61272875650705766332007-12-25T21:38:00.000-08:002007-12-25T22:08:38.218-08:00

noel, no. 3eddie done the slips, fell with the slidesrocking with the shiver, all blinded in his winterwhitegone, check it off, some list grown shortand slashed, wrack it slowly, pencil finallyfinelyedge him into goodwill, dodgy wear-washedcast-me's, as we laugh against the dollar rackbadlyand try to guess the potions, anxious oily lotionscremes from overstock, warehoused somewhere bywalgreensis

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-57671282779943884742007-12-24T15:20:00.000-08:002007-12-24T15:50:03.362-08:00

the long but not drawn noel, no. 2i'm gone long, drawn out like sheepdog runningjust a lopsided and bluesy boy, maybe shoutswhen the night gets long, do igot still some hopscotch, do i, and make scratchjenny, or she is suzy, surely a bit of laughinglady, ready for her rompsling this new day, quilty all of older stuffscause when she wears old jasmine oilsblinds me sure enough, do iif you're

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-79894768986739199312007-12-04T16:47:00.000-08:002007-12-04T17:26:20.973-08:00

mystery song, no. 3dark talking fellas, do they make their whispercorner standing fellas, slying and lookingready to be a thief, and watch their brown eyesturn bluesing-song blues, humping and thumpingfoot tapping stuff, just made for fools, for hearthunting strangers making their timeout of timejesse, come back from your travel, cause theclouds are gone hard, thick with some heavywailsi find

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-24780245223011300242007-11-28T21:30:00.000-08:002007-11-28T22:53:14.020-08:00

a thiefnight, splattering red across my windows, and we'retired, this night and me, waiting, wearied downby sour whiskey, twisty and dancing in tosses,by turnsdeceitful lover, is my night, false hour by hourstealing minutes, and i feel it stalking, lurkingprowling, hoping to creep into my bed, but ihave no room therei sing some small romances, don't i, while i amliving this life, surprised some

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-53692166283095732042007-10-16T07:30:00.000-07:002007-10-16T07:34:06.728-07:00

A few selections from days gone bysusiesusie sells her socks, but only after church, down bycharlie’s gate, and only to the catholic boys, cause theyhave dimes and pennies, pockets full, and blushes on their cheeks, and when the moon has slipped away, thedoors have darked and shut to strangers, she skips acrossthe pastor’s lawn, makes her prayers, sly with promise sly with woman twists, sings

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-18717077053502740322007-10-01T21:52:00.000-07:002007-10-01T22:08:28.672-07:00

an extended haiku in a-minor, riddleheartsmuscular organssolitarythey move yettheir murmurs give uspauseyou're alonebutdo you knowi can takeeverything

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-14677054647208880852007-09-27T12:11:00.000-07:002007-09-27T21:38:09.661-07:00

From the ongoing Songs of Childhoodmystery and hot chocolateshared rooms, narrow beds and unquiet placesnight wise sounds that easily tormentraw breaths, loosely opened windows bringcoldwhen alien, exotic noise ratchets on thoseuncomforting walls, brickey and dustyodd uneven row upon row, crumbledsometimesfrank walks on stone floors, jimmy onwood, both on the look, the watch, makingtheir summons,

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-79399246372409263992007-09-25T13:05:00.000-07:002007-09-25T13:24:17.860-07:00

A tidbit from songs of childhoodthe boy at the dooran orphan is an orphan, though he smilesvery properly, turning his mouth, twistinghis lips, a mimic of strangers who stareas he worries of tears, of rips and worncreases, hiding a spot where his supperhad flownhe has flight in his fancy, sitting by doorsreading of birthdays, of candles, surpriseof gifts everlastingof waking at Christmas, ice

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-5032824800792256722007-09-20T12:40:00.000-07:002007-09-20T12:41:16.555-07:00

sammyare you sleeping, silly sammy, here by highway 95, lyingon the daisies, warm beneath the august sun, are you dreaming,little fella, miles from all the city's ash, getting comfortswhere you may, but i never took you for a country lad, neverknew you found some pleasures far from boylston by the bay,or has your daddy sent you roaming, off to chase your troublesfar away, have you finished with

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-73970006793280622007-09-18T12:22:00.000-07:002007-09-18T14:01:46.405-07:00

the storyall this story, word by word, breathed outstarted in, punctuated in hands gone shakingcommas derelict, periods haphazardly strewnminor jitterbugs of sics, et als, loopy tries formisdirectionillustrated with no. 2's, henna, ungainly pasticheof upper caps, italicized with fervor, all this storyparagraph by paragraph, set adrift in life raftfashion, hopes set afloat but not for

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-64896609493051483302007-09-17T13:09:00.000-07:002007-09-17T13:59:28.590-07:00

no. 3, from songs for women who would be waywardtonightblues fisted, old steel guitar, so he stomps his feetand calls, hello honey, buckle up cause you will be my babytonighthe makes a wicked laugh, strumming, hummingand southern caterwauling gives him thirsty planstonightbut he likes his hair red, watches girls grow oldershake their skirts, tip toe by him slowly, and give himscentsgin is for the

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-71744177045385745142007-09-14T17:26:00.000-07:002007-09-14T19:34:56.266-07:00

rulesthere are rules for an orphan, written by machinetaped or tacked, hammered and nailed, here thereby windows and doors, gentle remindersstrong aversions, principles for living with some usesome purpose, to clear the doubt that might becloudingfor an orphan may have an expectation, as hewaits up in the window, watching cars, countingpassers by, searching faces for some kindnessfor some

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-3699354328796891222007-09-14T16:43:00.000-07:002007-09-16T12:10:40.341-07:00

the booka book can lay confusion, across the bed, as youwait for trees to blossom, watching wally walk awaythat prince of roamers, sensing summer's warinessready to search for duty, for use and purposewhere he'll soon forgetbut you've lost yourself, bits and shamblesweakened as the days come forced upon youit's a bitter thing, to know spring as you dothrown upon the breaking grasses, greenerthan

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-47328684680402089052007-09-11T21:21:00.000-07:002007-09-12T14:19:58.172-07:00

the wordshe won't say the word, and reads that tattered bookturns the pages, yellowed-brown, worn by otherfingers, worried by other eyes, a strange and curioustale of children, somewhere far and wondrous, besiegedby danger, that she knows full wellor does she know the word, unheard here whereshe hides, unformed by gentler mouths, unfiercemouths, as pages turn, where oaths are madeshe knows untold

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-50368837955133817492007-09-11T13:27:00.000-07:002007-09-11T13:56:12.233-07:00

from the songs of childhood, #7the orphanan orphan is an orphan, even whilethe trees go bare, even whilethe curious peek, they peerquizzing and probing, seekingproblems to be curedhis window is for keepinghard at bay, prowlers making roundshauling wonder on the back, pocketsfull of temptations rare, bedeviledbeads and trinketsan orphan never sees the ocean, orponders with the crows, never playsat

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-89744258961899393162007-09-04T12:07:00.000-07:002007-09-04T12:43:19.774-07:00

the long forgetblues, and when we want to dance, we dancelost that small, that little bragging love somewherebehind, a few steps back, a 2-step to the sidei wave my hand, make music while i'm hangingnext to you, think about the day slipped slowthink about my silly promisesi can quick steal words out of the air, evenfrom the sky, from dangly tunes, lopsided lyricsleave my inspiration ragged, and

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-83545640150551208702007-09-03T11:32:00.000-07:002007-09-03T19:04:58.176-07:00

the answer to everythingwander loosely, through this topsy, somewhatturvey and ramblesome day, cause there arewonderments to be found, left out on the sidewalkmaybe discarded, maybe simply lostit may not be commonly known, as known asiberian expletives, kazhak mortal curses, it may not besimply understood, like dynamic field theorythat a penny found is a penny compoundedby luckand under the guise

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-50164229580980754692007-08-28T10:42:00.000-07:002007-08-28T11:02:45.024-07:00

San Francisco chronicles, Day 1I'm an inveterate wanderer of San Francisco's neighborhoods. It's my favorite summer pastime - grateful for the cool, dry days and grateful for the many local coffee houses, restaurants, parks and oddities. Farley's on Potrero Hill, Jumpin' Java on Noe (in the Castro) for the wi-fi obsessed, It's a Grind on Polk Street are some of the many stopping points for a day

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-53463763525754513492007-08-27T22:19:00.000-07:002007-08-27T22:44:20.291-07:00

K'ville, Fox, 2007I've watched the pilot, now it's your turn. Go to Nola.com, click in the appropriate spot, and join me next week for a discussion. This much I can say: they've made an honest effort to capture New Orleans from a local's viewpoint. Until then, pizza and beer.

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-57693969583266071622007-08-27T19:28:00.001-07:002007-08-28T21:50:12.583-07:00

no title possible, no. 7redemptionwhat price do i payfor a liara thiefa gentle mani spell remorseslowlyletter by lettersounding the vowelstasting the reasonsswim slowlythrough these confusionsor tread upon the waterwhat end is salvationfor i hear thatcomfort lies therebut don't knowwaitingwhile the sun exhaustsclothed in the graythat succumbs to nightredemptionwhat price can i pay

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-24563336264910940952007-08-27T17:57:00.000-07:002007-08-27T18:29:52.951-07:00

don'tdon't slow me down, try to catch me i don't thinkyou can, i'm bounded down my alley ways, sniffingto the boulevard where beamers fly, caddies finnedin '59, bullet snouts consume the air, burn the windif you canor try to touch or solve me, resolved as i am tochasing cars, wrapping me a future with a clarityor try to mystify, arouse the streetsome ladsshaking down their quarters, begging down

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-30467969116527533022007-08-27T11:31:00.000-07:002007-08-27T12:43:53.549-07:00

facesunderneath this day, some thing's gone missed, butmy foot taps reggae, sand songs are come, confusedas they seem lost, drifted here to my special placewhere i snuggle coffee brews, swirl a bit of mysticmumbo jumbo for the fanswait, they are expectant, looking as if i could composeoracle pronouncements, life altering hymn tunessnap my fingers for electrical fires, thunderous clamoreager

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-44787944062205583592007-08-26T11:59:00.000-07:002007-08-26T12:34:58.250-07:00

taking your pollmarriage breaksoopsare your shoulders wide enough to make theblame game ?spin the wheel, sling the questionscovet this, pander thatwhen the best is a split decisioncut and diced by impartial middle yearsomeonesrehab is of dubious advantage to anold clubber like yourselfwartorn, cheesy, a casual smoocherwhere the lights tell no taleshappiest in a corner of no returnfoggy, powdered

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-80389458651174299182007-08-24T10:38:00.000-07:002007-08-26T11:58:43.869-07:00

the fatherpromises are made, between fathers and sonsas the womb grows closed, ear pressed to heartwaiting for the tides of birth, the clamor and newnessshuffling strangers move across the shifts of daybringing and awakening, crowding flowers cut in primepromiseshere where the torrents move incautiously, troubledby the anguish felt beyond the wall, curiously graystrangely green, permeable to

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-72715269209463986612007-08-23T11:43:00.000-07:002007-08-23T17:09:37.428-07:00

underi smile at funerals, some times, and take the opportunity toponder, oratory selections, incomprehensible chants of celibatemen, wearing wool, clouded by perspiration, strange undergarmentsdressed with rumor, gossipy under-breath speculationand struggle beneath the weight of an old man spenttravestied, spilling woozy memories in no order, somedisorderyou can see my steps in the turned dirt,

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-76661146520507388962007-08-21T10:11:00.000-07:002007-08-21T10:51:41.421-07:00

from the urban storm, #2avenues cross streets cross alleys cross boulevardscross lanes with a mathematica grid intensityalways leading me some where, often abstractlycause i am digitally challenged, make the eye of myown stormand find this problematic need for order, for graphicawareness a 74 degree down side of urbanitynarrow tenacious shuffleboards for holding houseswith some order, but

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-81144621748451711182007-08-20T11:44:00.000-07:002007-08-20T22:59:58.738-07:00

from the urban stormnoise random fluid spiky and punctuated, but i have a deadlinescheduled outage when i trivialize into an after noon's downtimescheduled for musing, perusing, for crossing legs on the avenuefor critical contemplation of the passers by, dissection by astuteanalysis, separating layers of fashionista wargear by designersocial impact, sexual innuendo, power grabs of talon shoed

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-33175740936335417292007-08-18T11:39:00.000-07:002007-08-18T22:24:56.362-07:00

dedicated to Kleave me rocking, little jackey, back back where you belongno room in this room for tepid conversation, not while i've beenmemorizing zola, understanding things gone wronggrasping for some sort of revelation, though i've beensnoozing since the dawnyou give a shaky start to any morning, snatching wordsbefore they're done, finishing my songs with your clatterybeat, making false

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-51263264802923409932007-08-17T11:29:00.001-07:002007-08-18T11:39:01.510-07:00

my cornerbacked into my favorite corner, dreaming pizza dreamsgoat cheese frolics on a bed of pesto, drizzled to a whole wheat crustup against this yellow wall, artsy and articulate, but i don'tdrink mocha, or sprinkle chocolate, don't find satisfactionwith my nutmeg freshly ground, i am so spellbounddraped in nonchalance, jagged with pretense smelling youacross my little haven, where memories

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-80935375921427171072007-08-16T11:29:00.000-07:002007-08-16T23:23:37.924-07:00

strange summer daysstrange summer days, click your heels, snapyour fingers if your drift is toward almond milkchai latte, wonder if the mango left the treeof a civil estate, a worker's paradise, wonderbout cold war benefits discarded, crammedbewildered when the tele heads protect their ownbut dancing down on haight, out of sight ofa golden gate, we can find a protest suitablydirected, agreeably

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-59654258448815418292007-08-15T13:37:00.000-07:002007-08-15T14:17:58.799-07:00

the under standergot it, understand it, finallyhard day rays, shifted directly from the sunlike to laze down on my knees, cookingthis 4pm like a cholesterol bathyes i am a fool, sitting here in the rawsmiling to the passers bynodding sympathetically, lickedby poodles, snarled by dachshundsjuggling counterfeit quartersanother attention grabbing ployof which i have a fewsenorita with your samba,

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-74424005313886268882007-08-14T11:11:00.000-07:002007-08-14T12:01:16.605-07:00

to Michael Chabon, where ever you may beadventure, misadventurelike all our great adventures, it began to fail as soonas heel touched ground, toes pointed forwardour determination alone was a sliver of doomawkward threads that refused to intertwinebut aren't we ever warriors? bold in executionflawless with a keening wail toward triumphuntil, of course, we start the race, pushourselves away from a

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-51119002089290807462007-08-13T21:46:00.000-07:002007-08-13T21:52:20.295-07:00

Flash Gordon, SciFi, 2007. Season 1, Episode 1Mr. Johnson, you've set blonds back 50 years. Where shall we start? Nowhere, because this series is not worth the time it would take to write the review. An absolute bomb, or 0 stars out of 4.

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-88582941236771551832007-08-13T21:15:00.000-07:002007-08-13T21:20:18.605-07:00

John from Cincinnati, HBO, 2007.What can be done, my most faithful of readers, to bring about a renewal of my favorite series? Employing techniques learned from those scalawags in the Weasley family, it's come to my dismayed attention that a loss of nerve has occurred at HBO. Wiccans, demonists, soothsayers and gris-gris masters, please heed our call!It was a gas, this 4 star series.

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-51704458106843987072007-08-13T11:20:00.000-07:002007-08-13T12:05:19.742-07:00

jimmyjimmy, was james only yesterday, suddenly fluidfound out by an uncasual observer, noncasual suddenly lustedbut only after borrowed flannels, worn gray t's hadfound their way his way, bringing some other person's wayinto his lifehis soft face was acquiring definition, by this roundabout journey, by this most involving circuit of clothestaken, given then worn in his idiosyncratic wealth

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-88886045135887964542007-08-12T10:21:00.000-07:002007-08-12T11:19:21.374-07:00

supper at the greyhound stationsupper at the greyhound station, momma leo's quichecontemplating benches, and the scratches, and the tearsrips of conversation, salty tangy air, but supperhas a special place in that box on main at 3rdsteel containers for possessions, numbered fora final count, tripped with locks that eat your quarterscoffee black, grim determination for her apple pieas we listen to

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-75245693319871017852007-08-11T11:36:00.000-07:002007-08-11T12:08:39.592-07:00

sharinghe's sure to have secrets, that brown haired boysitting in his hunched and sloopy waycrossing and uncrossing pale tufted legsshowing thready bare, garnished with ripshis pants found somewhere on a dollar rackand i believe his thoughts go rollingsometimes bouncing awkward unfinishedwhat does he know ?we share the worn wood floor, scratchedsplotchy but cool to my toes, warm to mywintry way,

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-6260644085365803672007-08-10T11:21:00.000-07:002007-08-10T11:52:44.102-07:00

Fallen, ABC Family, 2007.Let's revisit this odd new series about Nephilim and hit-squad, black ops angelic teams. It's not that the premise is inaccurately researched (within the world of television writers, at least) but that the execution is so bizarre and borders on the ludicrous.Angels, ostensibly sent by God, hunting Nephilim as if they were wild game or intrusionist terrorists. Actually,

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-22698161239681701492007-08-09T12:25:00.000-07:002007-08-09T12:49:10.455-07:00

Damages, FX, 2007. Season 1, Episodes 1-2.Glenn Close channels Bette Davis. Hmm, a bit of Gloria Swanson when she dons those incredible sun glasses. She is a larger than life, crowd-'em-off-the-screen diva. Television ain't seen this kind of star power in some time. In fact, her wattage blasts any other actor unfortunate enough to be in her presence right off of the small screen. Ted Danson has

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-32289380372980363702007-08-09T11:45:00.000-07:002007-08-09T12:25:07.429-07:00

Sunshine, 2007, DNA Films et al. Director: Danny BoyleWriter: Alex Garland (28 Days Later)Sci-fi -ya'll know I'm a fan, except of the SciFi Channel original movies. And this reminds me of a bigger budget, more audacious project from the same folks. Take an abandoned factory (or closed environment, such as a spaceship), kill off the cast one at a time. Spice it up with a little existential

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-87296198343544821112007-08-09T11:17:00.000-07:002007-08-09T11:45:29.160-07:00

Fracture, April 2007, New Line Cinema/Castle Rock EntertainmentDirector: Gregory Hoblit - our lad from Primal FearStory & collaborative screenplay: Daniel Pyne - of the very good remake of Manchurian CandidateScenario: stopped at the favorite corner bar for some good comfort food. First rate meatloaf, freshly mashed potatoes, draft Belgian beer. Watched Fracture at the bar, commiserating with the

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-86341850707094476102007-08-07T21:47:00.001-07:002007-08-07T21:55:43.607-07:00

the fortunei will soon be gone, if thosewaves come to shorefallen, and i won't get backon these feetsoonyou once said that theshore meets the sea, somewherenow that i've told youthat i'll soon be gone,any words for mesome things are best forchildren, small tearsdrying flowers still ontheir stem,bedeviled, perhapshalf eatenhe's been watching me,squarely, evenly, withoutreservation, or do i needto

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-34506484819332166092007-08-06T21:58:00.000-07:002007-08-06T22:04:47.492-07:00

waitingtell me, what i need to knowis there a yessomewhere a noas i waitfor the dawn to redand the rainwait for a windwait for the falltell me, as the hourswalk on byi can sit, rocking as i dodrinking mud brown whiskylaughing, as i doback and forth, waitingfor a yesor a no

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-63165061453077702332007-08-06T20:21:00.000-07:002007-08-06T20:46:57.310-07:00

marriageah, marriagerequested, required, thievedsimple and sunnymarriageevery ceremony a blissful affairbut why can't we be contentedwith slowly ripened peachescrushed pomegranate seedsbleeding out their juicesfeeding to our satisfactionoh, nofrenzies of deliberationnurtured written memorandafrilly little scalloped dressesfollowed by sessions of avoidanceanalysis, at 200 an hourall in preparation

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-76188216098701995372007-08-06T11:56:00.000-07:002007-08-06T12:40:52.054-07:00

who ?who stands there knockingshushing out secret little whisperssome sly traveler, gone lostmay be distraughtwho thinks i have some trustto giveor brings me some sort ofindiscretionwho doesn't know those dayshave all been usedsince scattered, herethere, left on slippery roadssome where awayrap rapping, and i hear a shuffleof anxious feet, soft andunprotected feet, brown froma prying sun, where

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-29297219779638341242007-08-01T22:42:00.000-07:002007-08-01T22:53:31.261-07:00

Idle thoughts on the summer offerings.Mad Men, AMC, 2007. Season 1, through episode 2.Tell me, those with memories of the 60's, is this an accurate depiction of the times? Non-stop smoking, drinking, coarse chauvinism - on the part of the men, anyway? Women were eternally 'girls' to be laid, casually and opportunistically? This is a dark series, yet stylish and compulsive. You won't find a Beaver

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-64048006931541710152007-08-01T22:35:00.000-07:002007-08-01T22:42:13.556-07:00

Burn Notice, USA, 2007. Season 1, Episodes through 5.Aww - c'mon. We had such high hopes. Unreasonable expectations, it turns out. Scripts 101 could turn out a better product - at the Dusty Bend Junior College. We did note, did we not, that the 'creative' team was a bit suspect? Prescient, yet again.This baby is tired, tired, tired. Each week worse than the preceding. It's running with a 1 star

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-83907202126445774852007-08-01T21:57:00.000-07:002007-08-01T22:03:21.211-07:00

an extended haiku schmaikuyou have a perfect lifehot houseflowerscent-aliciousflush and powerfullbut you don't knowhave you lookedfor me?

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-17226861130408405962007-08-01T17:35:00.000-07:002007-08-01T19:41:15.474-07:00

here in indianai see no end, can't see those stepsthat finally take me somewhereout beyond this summer heatblowsy and yammery on a tuesdayafternoonyou have certain expectations, crosslegged, brown ankles, shiny kneescreases by your mouth, nearly erasedfrom the fullness of those lips, i'm tipsydistractedno sugar here, sugari traipse around from wall towall, blinded by a shimmery sunfrying eggs out

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-46894133251724249702007-07-30T11:00:00.000-07:002007-07-30T17:04:43.406-07:00

the shotgun houserain, sitting in my old shotgun housemaking time with my roof of tintapping, pushing some little steps inthat silly dance i loveand dreamingbaby boy, you can stand outside my doorall through the nightyawling and hollering, fierce in yourgoodwill jacket, worn down to thecotton fluff, ragged like your tonguewhiskeyed and slickbut don't scare away my mailmancause the world comes

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-10149203226157575842007-07-25T22:09:00.000-07:002007-07-25T22:26:46.717-07:00

rememberi'm harbored by an ailing, a dwindlinggone shrunken, and i am so muchlessi've made my fight, day break punchescrippled hands, smirks like slapsup on mewake up, wracked in restless turnhard twist, jiving in the darkalonehow did this get inside of me, strikeme, push me down on that dusty floorbrokenticks and tocks, crafty old alarmsboozy yawling between the hours5amgive me some explanation,

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-30954649897561056912007-07-25T18:38:00.000-07:002007-07-25T18:47:22.851-07:00

Bionic Woman, NBC, 2007. Season 1, PilotAnother Canadian import, another remake. There will always be a slot for a series with a young, attractive woman who runs, fights and jumps with video game abilities. The young male market seems to endlessly thrive on the familiar if it's aggressive and loud enough. There's nothing new or particularly interesting here. You've seen it, yawned through it and

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-88392824272419413042007-07-24T20:19:00.000-07:002007-07-24T20:42:08.457-07:00

Mad Men, AMC, 2007. Season 1, Episode 1: Smoke Gets in Your Eyes (Wed., 7/25/2007)These are self-generated buzz words from the silver and gold towers of Madison Avenue. Year: somewhere east of cave men and west of indulgence. A time before there were women, only girls. Much smoke and many cigarettes. Drinks at the office and openly crass behavior, at least among the boys.Graphics and titles are

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-75910531621060152952007-07-24T17:12:00.000-07:002007-07-24T17:28:22.843-07:00

days of summeri've taken, in these days of summerto some small and idle thoughtswriting notes upon the waterfraught with curlicues, and flourishesdeep into the mystery of the 4th street pondbut i cannot keep at baythe jiggling minutes, of the hoursslipping, slidingand when i turn to read your nameit's gone, and so i wonderif by walking backward, stepby step, collapsing into secondsthat might

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-63894754783202615532007-07-23T21:40:00.000-07:002007-07-23T21:56:46.992-07:00

The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Fox, 2007. Season 1, PilotBreathe a sigh of relief. It seems Fox may have succeeded in re-imagining our beloved Terminator series. Beloved, of course, if your heart's fancy tends to explosions, chases and much gunfire. Lena Headey ain't bad in Ms. Hamilton's role as mom to a savior. And this new series seems to have played a part in Mr. Dekker's withdrawal from Heroes

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-9590715565114517442007-07-23T19:08:00.000-07:002007-07-23T19:22:59.311-07:00

Pushing Daisies, ABC, 2007. Season 1, PilotSomewhere, somewhen, somebody saw Big Fish one too many times. Lee Pace is fine as a man who can resurrect the dead - be it wasps, dogs, strawberries or persons of interest - but there is a stifling amount of voice over. Endless, monotonal voice over.The promise that I saw in the concept, and the promise that I saw in the cast, is executed with a

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-76231887874922766552007-07-23T12:23:00.000-07:002007-07-23T22:01:31.826-07:00

Chuck, NBC, 2007. Season 1, PilotWell, now. In my limited firmament a star is born. Meet Zachary Levi, slacker supremo and everything that's lacking in Reaper. But also meet Chuck Bartowski, a fledgling and potential threat to Mr. Donovan in Burn Notice. And to think that this is on NBC - who'da thunk?Chuck is funny, well paced and good to the last drop. Cross your fingers (and your toes) that

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-9487290949362268232007-07-23T11:18:00.000-07:002007-07-23T20:58:07.642-07:00

Reaper, CW, 2007. Season 1, PilotInteresting premise gone wrong. Oh, well. Mr. Harrison, in the title role, is indeed the embodiment of a Hollywood idealized slacker. He's given all the accoutrement needed to carry out his preordained existence except a personality. But the truly egregious error is casting Tyler Labine as a sidekick. You may remember him, unfavorably I'm sure, from Invasion. He

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-36394594792835923322007-07-18T22:59:00.000-07:002007-07-18T23:22:05.656-07:00

The Blues Just Ain't Goin' AwayTraveler, ABC, 2007. Season 1 Finale: The Exchange.Talk about going out with a bang. The series dipped and curved, went up and down, but found its groove. It also gave us a doozy of a cliffhanger ending. Should we take this optimistically and expect a 2nd season? I've gotta leave a yes vote for the lads and lasses who make these decisions. I'm still a bit

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-41875775146265430582007-07-17T21:05:00.000-07:002007-07-17T23:12:18.581-07:00

More Blues, Cause It's Still SummertimeRandom, but hardly idle, thoughts on the entertainment choices we still have. So let's start with . . .Sanctuary, Webisode 5. It's the little things that are our undoing. And cumulatively, little things keep me from enjoying Sanctuary as I should. We've covered this ground before, but at least there's now a developing storyline and not just discontinuous

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-52084637134832231172007-07-16T23:09:00.000-07:002007-07-16T23:46:16.085-07:00

The Summertime BluesJust a few notes on this off-off season of television. Kyle XY, ABC Family, has been on a downward spiral in his sophomore season. It's now a teen melodrama and a 1-1/2 star effort.On the other hand, Traveler (ABC) is picking up steam. An extended conspiracy riff that is actually doling out clues and aiming for coherency. Well, coherency may be a tad effusive, but it's at

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-18164320777761718712007-07-16T21:51:00.000-07:002007-07-16T22:10:24.062-07:00

Transformers, Dreamworks, 2007. Director: Michael BayMany uber-geeks spent many lunar cycles pounding keyboards to create this extended chase scene. If words like megatron and optimus prime cause your heart to race, or at least flutter, then hurry, hurry to the mall cineplex. You can get high on tooth enamel-dissolving liquids and sugar products with a side order of nachos. You will be in a

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-41549698245207055942007-07-11T21:19:00.000-07:002007-07-11T21:42:52.926-07:00

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, 2007, Warner Brothers. Director: David Yates. 138 minutes.I'll touch base again later on this newest Pottermania. Of the 6 published books, this is the one that's most difficult to bring to film. Overwritten, overly burdened with teen anger and angst, it has been brilliantly translated to a work that flows seamlessly. My hat's off to Mr. Goldenberg's

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-79021484020995551442007-07-07T16:24:00.000-07:002007-07-07T16:57:36.244-07:00

Burn Notice, USA, 2007. Season 1, Episode 2: IdentityWe were patient, a bit eager, and now Charlies' Angels has finally begun. Oops, I mean Mission Impossible. Or is it MacGyver plus 2? I'm so confused. But one thing I do know is that Ms. Gless is wasted here. Isn't there a fine for misuse of talent?Chalk up another entry for that most coveted viewing segment consisting of males 9-15; perhaps

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-73474193621535203032007-07-04T21:11:00.000-07:002007-07-04T22:22:21.607-07:00

Fallen, ABC Family. A Special Event in August 2007My remark about vampires must have been prescient, because I have acquired and viewed this oddity and the angels are much less angelic than you, my faithful ones. In fact, they're rather like winged assassins from a Japanese cult film. Or vampires. But this is about angels, fallen and otherwise. Hit-men angels who pursue nephilim, of which our

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-67069764677940643212007-07-03T20:12:00.000-07:002007-07-03T20:30:08.731-07:00

ripelet it all begin, little sweetnessyou've led no kind of life that wouldmake a mother proudthose broken lilies have a pungentscent, a heady flavor, near too ripefor somelike you, aren't they?too ripe, too rawflagrant with their giftsthey push aside thoselesser flowers, tosspromise into the winda bawdy floozy that smirksout in my gardenbefuddles any one gone lostgone roaming in thedarksome

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-75053597055909275042007-07-02T22:05:00.000-07:002007-07-02T23:22:08.958-07:00

John from Cincinnati, HBO, 2007. Season 1, Episode 4: His Visit: Day 3 (1st aired 7/1/2007)Puccini has been channeled at long last. Verismo has been reincarnated through John. We have gloriously long passages of recitativo and fully orchestrated arias. But unlike La Boheme, I laugh to a state of ignominy. These episodes are viewed privately, unobserved and with the finest wine my modest budget

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-5663398914386134712007-07-02T19:40:00.000-07:002007-07-02T19:53:19.932-07:00

Fallen, ABC Family, Debuts 8/4/2007.Oh, Vancouver, you've done it again. He's half human and half angel. Naw, it ain't me. It's 25 year old Paul Wesley (hmm, Wasilewski was too hard to pronounce we're told) getting what might be a break in the lead as an 18 year old high school student. If you'd like the official premise take a peek at ABC's website. Angels have never been as popular as vampires

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-48360412332946129162007-07-02T18:58:00.001-07:002007-07-02T19:37:58.112-07:00

The 4400, USA, July 2004 - Present. Season 4, Episode 3: Audrey Parker's Come and Gone (1st aired 7/1/2007)This series turned the corner tonight. It's been wading through very murky water at the start of this 4th season and it's been thematically ambiguous. Well, the water's clearing and our prospects are brighter.This is a series that I've sometimes struggled to like. It's also one that I should

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-12302283836996469102007-07-01T16:15:00.000-07:002007-07-01T22:39:42.857-07:00

Burn Notice, USA, 2007. Season 1, Episode 1: Pilot (1st aired 6/28/2007)It's finally here. You've shown a lot of interest in this new series, so is it worth it? Mr. Donovan's Michael Weston is a bit of MacGyver (with a gun) but channeled through Mr. Anderson's Jack O'Neill. If you understand this characterization rigmarole then you're every bit the TV geek that I've come to admire.We have Miami,

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-4134619027764062392007-06-30T23:36:00.000-07:002007-06-30T23:55:01.973-07:00

Top Chef, Bravo, 2006 - Present. Season 3, Episode 3: Family FavoritesRethink, recreate a lower cholesterol version of American family classic dishes, such as chicken ala king, meatloaf, tuna casserole, etc. Update, re-imagine! Yes, readers, I'm still watching the now estimable Bravo offerings. Well, one of them at least.They've found the formula that makes their kitchens dramatic and fun. No

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-38359323215507324432007-06-30T21:17:00.000-07:002007-06-30T23:35:16.407-07:00

Canadian Idol, CTV, 2003 - Present. Season 5, Episode 7: Top 22 Results Show (1st aired 6/27/2007)Aye? If we were to have a face-off, or a playoff, between the American and Canadian Idol shows it would be a mismatch. Bland and predictable on one hand, edgy and indie on the other. No need to actually write which is which, is there fans? My notable exception would be Blake Lewis - congratulations

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-53200693378800431252007-06-30T20:56:00.000-07:002007-06-30T21:09:24.838-07:00

Sanctuary, Webisode 4Laughable, though certainly not by intent. Ms. Tapping's accent has not improved. Why she determined it necessary is also not clear. Although the series begins in Victorian London there were many Canadians and Americans abroad during that gilded period.Midway through this episode a holographic testimony from a previous aide? assistant? gives some admonition, some

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-63560261683449664032007-06-26T17:02:00.000-07:002007-06-26T18:06:33.408-07:00

whitesilver bells, cockleshells, rhymes withsunday, skittered next to saturday, whistlingdown the pastor's lane, hiding neathsweet summer's dress, cause whitewill fool the neighbors, speaks of goodgirls, speaks of lovemay fool her daddy, sitting in thekitchen, waiting for the oak to givehim shade, waiting for his tears to drymay fool old cross-eyed henry, waitingfor his corn to grow, and the

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-43867011600408728072007-06-25T19:36:00.000-07:002007-06-25T21:57:32.033-07:00

John From Cincinnati, HBO, 2007. Season 1, Episode 3: His Visit: Day Three (1st aired 6/24/2007)Aww, it's no secret that I love this show. I'm gonna leave you a snippet of the script to ponder:Our intrepid threesome goes over to close the door to the haunted unit #24 in the motel . . .(Barry Cunningham) "Do you hear the dead man singing within, gentlemen?"(Ramon Gaviota) "I'm half deaf from the

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-42217713370671705242007-06-25T18:36:00.000-07:002007-06-25T19:07:38.308-07:00

The 4400, USA, July 2004 - Present. Season 4, Episode 2: Fear Itself (1st aired 6/24/2007)Xenophobia: fear or dislike of strangers, or the unknown. Something we're all acquainted with, though acknowledged reluctantly, if at all. And then there's a commitment to the rules of the game. The old even playing field. Just what is it that The 4400 is trying to say?Oh, yes, it has a message. It is a

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-1647132480736200042007-06-25T17:49:00.000-07:002007-06-25T18:31:36.566-07:00

colorssusie sang off in a key of pink, shewoulda been sugary, some where thatsusies have been cherished, butall women, used to be little, used to begirlsread hegel under neath its blueno, gray no, ashy no, washed away sunread j.collins under neath mrs. jones'favorite lamp, sipping in her delicate waygordons gingathered billy's hisses, no hurrahswaited for his kisses, no danger therecause susie

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-87200815781360713062007-06-23T20:01:00.000-07:002007-06-23T20:06:24.881-07:00

Hidden Palms, The CW, 2007. Season 1, Episode 4: What Eliza Beneath and Episode 5: MulliganWho's watching this series? I made it through Ep. 4 but only 20 minutes in to #5 I threw up my hands, questioned my integrity and sanity, and said, "Enough." No more, readers. Another series is being discarded by your favorite.This is simply bad television. Let's rate it a bomb and move on.

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-58454295591270886942007-06-23T17:53:00.000-07:002007-06-25T17:49:49.511-07:00

jumpin'that old sun done gone back, little babyorange, all frilled up in red, hotit makes me hopcause this concrete street's no goodbut for cookingand my feet's baremaking little shuffles, bopsstraffin' with the briars, with thesandspurs, with the shellsthrown out from the seabroken, sharp and angryi'm crissed and crossed with cutsbloodied like them war boysrunning, howling and given oversome eat

the Bayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16832091735845679580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5812071.post-48396422198376487832007-06-22T19:45:00.000-07:002007-06-23T08:07:40.799-07:00

what do we need ? no. 3making angelsi have some small placeto sit, and cross my legsbrewing little coffeesi have my collection of subtle beansfound far, stolen may bewatch my singular smilei cast around old heady glamourshere, in my small placedo you notice that i tilt my headall alistened to the musicsi prefer these wrapping momentswhen i toss my shoesfree my toes for tappingstretch them wide

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