Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Trumpet


Trumpet
by Marzipan P. Marmot

a trumpet has a bell
but you shouldn't hit it like a bell
it will dent

[photo: Wynton Marsalis]
____________

MARZ: But you have to explain this. It doesn't make sense.
...
This does NOT mean copy down everything I say!!!
[laughs; stabs your typist in the arm with a pen; hangs head when this has no effect]

THIS IS NOT EXPLAINING IT!

FREX: OK, so... explain it. I won't type it until

MARZ: YOU'RE TYPING THAT YOU WON'T TYPE IT!!!

FREX: [typing] [scerad,td.fd,g]ouf]p''[rbdft

MARZ: NOW YOU HAVE TO EXPLAIN THAT! Now there's even more to explain. STOP!!!
[hits back of chair of your typist]

FREX: [scerad,td.fd,g]ouf]p''[rbdft looks like it looks because I was typing with a pillowcase over my head, placed there by one Marzipan P. Marmot.


OK, really now. Here's what happened.

This morning, instead of writing my [Frex's] resume, I sat on the couch with Marz and made up a song off the top of my head. It was terrible and I don't remember anything except it ended with
"Juice, juice, juice, juice."

Then I quizzed Marz on the properties of brass instruments. (She plays trumpet.)

"Trumpet," she said, "has a nice color."

"What's the color?" I said.

And she said, "It's not a particular color, it's just a brightness, like glossy paint instead of matte."

I said I think I prefer the darker smokier sounds of, I guess sax and trombone.

"Tenor sax," Marz clarified. "That's what Captain Kirk plays."

Then I asked her to compose a poem about the trumpet, unpremeditatedlyish,
and the above poem was the result.


Photobucket

"Justin Bieber Playing Trumpet" from Gifninja.

1 comment:

Bianca Castafiore? said...

I'm not sure but I think.

What? Oh, right!

I'm not sure but I think THAT:

*unpremeditated poems are not composed,
*nor can unpremeditated top-head songs be made up instead of some other (presumed intentional) activity, such as resume-writing.

On the other hand, I know THAT:

*copying and transcribing are more meditated than not meditated, though the degree of impromptu extemporaneousness...

[Pssst! Hey, prof! YoooooHoooo! Yo, Bianca, anybody home...?]

Hmmm? What? Oh, right, right again!

Mostly, we ManorFolk wanted to remind you urbanites over there in AstronaveLand THAT:

*While it is important that "Baby... don't fear the reaper," proper love of life dictates certain precautions be taken against Marzipan P. Marmot,
*a tricked-out and Bona Fide Pest who, on occasion (usually ennui is involved), prefers Frank E. Cyanide to almond paste.

Oops, have an itch, must scratch! (= my blogging strategy)

Have a great one, Great One!