thanks to the computer

a little poem with that title (the subject of this blog) caught my eye tonight, and though i am far closer to being ready to sleep for the night, i thought i'd pass it along. it's by Charles Bukowski. "Hank." he wrote a lot of good poems, a lot of bad ones, and most of them were not the kind of poems you'd read to anyone under the age of eighteen... and - like me - he tended to have a slight disinterest in the proper use of the key.

basically the poem is about his nifty new computer, and how it pleases him - and how it probably kept some of his other work hidden - once electrons passing on data to the screen, and then no more. a little easier than the wastebasket, and a lot more permanent. no second chances if you aren't saving backups, and don't have access to undo what you've done.

anyway - just hadn't said hi lateley. getting a new job at work (cool), but i'll have to leave you in suspense with that for now, as i only feel like typing the poem and going to bed.

'thanks to the computer' - Charles Bukowski

you write a bad poem and you just
press the "delete" key and watch the
lines vanish as if they had never been,
no ripping pages out of the typer,
balling them up and tossing them into the
wastebasket.

the older I get the more I delete.
I mean, if I see nothing in a work, what
will the reader see?

and the computer screen is a tough judge,
the words sit back and look at you,
with the typewriter you don't see them
until you pull out the
page.

also, the keyboard on a computer is
more efficient than that on the
typer, with the computer the thoughts
leap more quickly from your mind to your
fingers, to the screen.

is this boring?
probably.
but I won't delete it because it isn't boring
me.

I am in love with THIS MACHINE

see what it can do

now let's get back to
work.

---------------------------------

hmm. in contrast, here's something i typed up a few years ago - and no, i had not read this back then. (i just bought this book a few months back)

(wow, and i used the shift key for abouut eight letters) ... btw, i in no way consider this a masterpiece - it's just a dumb poem i wrote, and maybe it will entertain you a bit. written in 2002, around march.

--
Swing you crazy levers, swing.
so sad is it that so many have forgotten you.
'word' can never replace this feel, and Hemmingway would never have typed as much (whether you like him or not) if he was using a PC.. or maybe he would have drunk less...
i'll try to tell you later, after another drink or two.
so, sitting here now,
neat scotch
radio on
npr - i have these stinkin audio plays - they are good sometimes, but a real bitch when i am just wanting some background noise while i type (other than the ever pleasant ding letting me know that yet another page
is done) unless
i
outsmart it ...i don't have to play the ding
as long as i stop
soon enough.
but sooner or later i forget to stop, i get in a frenzy, and then bam!!
another ding... but that's okay, i really do not mind the ding letters eeerrr... dings... come to think of it, I do not know that I have ever gotten a ding letter of any sort. i guess you could call it a ding letter when undue purversity told me that i was not their type of student, and sent me packing. but i will show them (hopefully :) engineering was not my bag anyway.
but don't tell them that it could actually not be someone's bag.
that would be sacrilidge... at least for it to be said out in the open air - like at halftime at mackey... i don't think Gene or his wife would care however.

I have to fix the typewriter just a bit more, just a bit more tweaking.
one last line before I do that though.
nicely,
perfect,
sweetness.

-----

hmm. i'll be like Bukowski tonight and not hit delete even though I am thinking otherwise.

have a good day, and take care.
.jason