Poetry and Giveaways

Last night was another attempt at purging the old closet out. Finally gone to the recycling bin are my old college notebooks; xeroxed copies of old Chinese scripts that I will never read again. Week after week of handouts; remnants of my past lives. Out in the alleyway. It feels good.
One of the boxes in my closet is filled to the brim with old VHS tapes. Now, as I have no means to play these tapes, and no intention of acquiring such a means, I thought I'd offer them up here, to any who want them. So, without further ado: my old collection of videos. If you want any (or all) of them, simply drop me a comment or email me straight at recoveringmale@gmail.com, and they shall be yours.

(I'll do my best to come back to this entry and X off names as they are claimed)


Rushmore
Pump Up the Volume
Blue Velvet
Dangerous Liaisons
Manhattan
Dead Poets Society
Wonder Boys
Kenneth Branagh's Hamlet
Ghostbusters
Ferris Bueller's Day Off
Fawlty Towers (3 random episodes)
X-Men
Big Trouble in Little China
Your Friends & Neighbors
Braveheart
Heat
Alien Trilogy (box set)
The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert
Shine
Leaving Las Vegas
Othello
Purple Rain
Nirvana: Live! Tonight! Sold Out!
Eagles: Hell Freezes Over
Monty Python & the Holy Grail
Monty Python's Life of Brian
Sleeper
Beverly Hills Cop
The Silence of the Lambs
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Cape Fear
Radiohead: 7 Television Commercials
Radiohead: Meeting People Is Easy
Al Pacino's Looking for Richard

Wow. That offers a somewhat telling glimpse into what I used to spend most of my time doing...

also, a few stray books that need a home:

3-volume set about The Swing Era
The Beatles Anthology

Get 'em while they're hot and sticky!



Now, as I hinted at before, here's something of a poem.


What of Spring?
Already the muck of cherry blossoms dot the streets.
Can I not import Kate for at least one bikeride under their streamers?
still Low is playing
and the rain is coming down.
I can wait.

I'm looking at an unfinished book
silent and still
as static as Roman ruins
I'm looking at my bandaged finger
one small ambassador of the ever-breaking body
but like Wolverine I clean
patch
and move on.
The body is a better healer than most give it credit for.

If you're reading this, maybe I finally let go
maybe I made it to the far shore
and found something my hands could not malign
nor my mind destroy before I even begin
like the drums I sold
or the corpses of the unused instruments.

I hate these cryptic communiques.

I would face my enemies on the field of war
so I can at least see their faces
when I take
them
down.



Alrighty folks. Back to the trenches.


~D

The Weakerthans - Everything Must Go!