Manscaping

Boyhood's wild masculine fantasies of conquering

"cannots" and "will nots" have lightning-lava tumbled

away from once carefree realities. I am tall,

but no pirate-viking-superhero-rock god.

I now lift pencils, furnish my home in Bed Bath & Beyond

knick knacks, and daintily sip white wine—

the capital paradigm repossessed my throne.

But last I checked during my morning's piss

I am a man, and like the towering Atlas,

a globe of testosterone rests on my shoulders.

My face is a cityscape for seizing back boyhood's

precocious demands to crash through the ceiling

of Aristotelian world views. Hair is the infinite ladder;

the war horn to scare away the ravens of Nevermore.

A Handlebar Mustache morphs lesser men into bare

knuckle brawling contenders; Friendly Mutton Chops

set one on equal footing with General Ambrose Burnside.

Circle beards, Soul Patches, Zappas and Anchors, all facial fluff

fortifies a man against melding among the "cannots" and "will nots"

of baby face persuasion. Release the envy of inner boyhood

because Charles Darwin understood what made the fittest.

(A poem for men who feel like their boyhood dreams of grandeur are gone. Repossess your throne!)

Cleopatra

A coy glance and come-hither wink lured

me to her spider trap. She sashayed around Bourbon Street

Blues Company with fine, rounded convex hips

to the beat of lulling sweet heat; sax and drums,

the theme to her crow-black bob and beguiling amygdaliform

eyes spelled my doom, but I slithered over

to her with no modesty or fluffy talk, armed

to the marrow with Bayou boast. She charmed me

with milk-moon complexion and a sloshing tray of test tube

trickery. I'll gift you a shot from my mouth: only five dollars.

Unlike Marc Antony before me, I meant to wholly conquer

this woman and her sweet fig lips; I refused to take bait

till she answered my crafted questions and fell mercy to my

scorpion venom, cruel little spider that she was.

Her favorite film: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Her favorite book: Norwegian Wood.

Satisfied, I knelt before her petite figure and took two shots,

and she reciprocated with a short, spirited conversation

over Jim Carrey's dramatics and Murakami's dismay.

Deluded by New Orleans' elysian whiskey patter I fell

prey to ancient desire and asked for her number.

She beckoned me to follow her through the throng

listening to sax and drums, her victorious arm held high,

balancing the tray. She never looked back and acknowledged me

as I pushed through those that parted for her. And I was fooled,

I knew all along yet troubled to continue chasing her like a puppy

desperate for love from its master. I rolled back out into the street

picking at my threadbare cunning and got lost

in her web that clung to my overcast mind and asp-poisoned blue wood.

(A poem about an interesting experience over the summer in New Orleans. To all those planning on going, be warned.) 

America Energy Independant a Reality?! What?

According to a report by the International Energy Agency (IEA), the U.S. is on the fast track to becoming the "world's biggest oil producer," and pretty soon, too. The country is expected to surpass Saudi Arabia by 2020 with a 11.1 million barrels per day compared to the latter's 10.6. My question is: Where did this come from all of a sudden? Our country has spent the last decade going on about how we need to be looking for new sources of energy, and with this report now in play, what will it do to that idea? What will become of our Toyota Priuses and Chevy Volts?

The method that is providing the country with this potential is fracking, which involves pumping down mixtures of sand, water, and chemicals at high pressure. Sounds neat. The number one question this will obviously elicit is: Will we go back to a Golden Age when gas cost less than a dollar at the pumps? Chances are that this is unlikely, and this "energy independence" won't look nearly as promising as I and everyone else would love to believe. All other stories about this report on the internet pretty much leave it looking as if this is excellent news for the nation, but Forbes doesn't think so; they've compiled a 10 Reasons list for why we shouldn't be breaking out the champagne and party hats. So before you all go out and start planting the seeds of this juicy development in the ears of all your friends and neighbors, I would suggest checking out the Forbes article because it's always good to know the negative effects of something that sounds too good to be true—this is one of those things. 

The Love/Hate Divide Over Cloud Atlas

Cloud Atlas is an ambitious film directed by the tripartite genius of the Wachowskis (The Matrix Trilogy) and Tom Tykwer (Run Lola Run). These directors set out to make a film that would defy the status quo of film-making, and they have brilliantly accomplished that.

The challenge of combining six movies into one with the same actors appearing as multiple characters is a daunting one, and it's by no means easy to sit through placidly. This film is meant to inspire and awe like a spectacle. And that's where the film has its problems. The movie itself is divided into three pieces: film, stage, and art. Cloud Atlas breaks several conventions to deliver something that would translate well on the big screen, which in my opinion it does splendidly, but for others it didn't. The gender- and ethnic-bending and story-switching is a lot to take in, but if one watches the movie as something that is beyond a movie, if one reflects on it as a film-stage-art hybrid, then I believe more people will enjoy the work.

A handful of the many characters in Cloud Atlas

It's unfortunate that the movie didn't connect with audiences, even with such an impressive cast attached (Tom Hanks, Halle Berry, Jim Sturgess, Hugo Weaving, Hugh Grant etc.), but I am optimistic that Cloud Atlas will go the way most under-appreciated movies go: cult fanaticism.

How can you not want to see Hugh Grant in this role?

I highly recommend checking it out while it's still in theaters. Take your significant other. The screening won't have any of the obnoxious patrons that tend to ruin most other movies, so it'll be something special to behold in dark solitude. Keep an open mind, and don't let the run time daunt you because the movie is engrossing from start to finish.