February 28, 2006
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The Daily News
The Raven, Gustav Dore
How it pours, pours, pours, In a never-ending sheet!
How it drives beneath the doors! How it soaks the passer’s feet! How it rattles on the shutter! How it rumples on the lawn! How ’twill sigh, and moan, and mutter, From darkness until dawn.
–RossiterJohnson, Rhyme of the Rain
1 Besides his own mother, I’m guessing I’m the only guy ever to have quoted Rossiter Johnson. You expected Poe, didn’t you?
2 Yesterday. Yeesh. It poured. And poured. Ask Rossiter Johnson; he’ll tellya.
3 Here’s what San Jose looked like after rehearsal, when it cleared for a brief stint:
pretty darned poetic, don’t you think?
4 I got home and collapsed again. I think my body is trying to break its all-time record for snoozing. Battling through this year on a rainy Monday is no small task, and I fell to the temptation to drift off into a deep sleep. Mondays can do that, especially when you know you have to go back in and face Tuesday.
5 Especially with the rain, which I’ve mentioned already. That’s twice now with especially, so you’d best sit up and take note.
6 In fact, I wanted to go to my chamber and play a piano piece to rain, to create music that mimics perfectly the poetry and grace of a dark, rainy afternoon, and of all the pain within my being, screaming to get out!
7 So I dressed in all black, lit a candle, listened to the lilting, poetic rhythms and plipping beauty of the raindrops, and moved off to my chamber, with the full intention of putting this down in words, and in song!
8 The rain was screaming all my pain; my pain was imprisoned; thoughts haunted my entire being. “I must needs away to my chamber in order that I may compose my masterpiece!” I shouted, seemingly to nobody!
9 Like a moaning wraith, I drifted through the rooms of my abode, a melancholy presence with indeed, a story to tell, and with other restless souls gently to touch, and to reach!
10 I finally reached my chamber door, when it dawned on me that I have no chamber door! It dawned on me that I have no chamber period! I have no PIANO! Calamities!
11 I noticed this when I reached my chamber door, only to realize I had no chamber door! I just said that!
12 I looked about, only to see that my house was without seven gables, there wasn’t a raven in sight, and, of a sudden, I felt compelled no longer to end sentences with exclamation points!
13 So I made a fat sandwich instead, and crashed out on my couch, and turned on the T.V., kicked off my old shoes, and wiggled my toes so they jumped alive like sea otters in warm socks.
14 I thought of Edgar Allan Poe, and how amazingly grief-stricken he was, and had to ask myself, “Why, man, why?”
15 The answer came to me in a dream. Poe materialized like his own mythical raven. I looked up, and goofed on his forehead.
16 Poe’s forehead was 11 inches across. That explains his brooding angst, as well as the bust of Caesar. I mean, check this:
I sell hats. He’s a size eight.
Hands down.
No wonder he was so sad.
Poor fellow was Melon-choly.
m’bad.
17 That mug is at LEAST 11 inches acrosst by my measure.
18 Haha! Acrosst. I have a neighbor that says stuff like that. Acrosst. The guy kills me!
19 Anyway, I decided then and there just to finish my fat sandwich and count my blessings.
20 Every now and again, I do that.
21 Don’t trip.
22 It’s raining. It’s Tuesday. Deal with it.
23 Haha!
24 And…uh…Rossiter? Don’t quit your day job, dude.
25 Nevermore, man. I gotta love it.
26 It’s raining. It’s Tuesday. Make someone laugh today.
26 Peace.
“He lived rich, but he died Poe.”
peace.
~h~
