I’m Supposed to Use these Maps as a Prompt (by Ahmed Teleb)

 

Another writing exercise. Just another Monday night. We’re supposed to use these printed computer maps of “Beacon Hills” from various American cities.

What about the Revolution? What about the streets I began to grow up on? My grandfather liked to walk—a lot. He and I would walk all over the city when I was eight, when I was eleven, mostly east to west and back.

Tahrir (Liberation), Ramses, Mirghani

Mirghani, the Girls’ College, Alhorriyya (Freedom)

Alhorriyya, Omar Ibn Alkhhattab, Aabas Alaaqad

Aabas Alaaqad, Alaarooba (Arabism), Sixth of October,

Sixth of October, Salah Salem, Aabasia,

Aabasia, Ramses, Tahrir,

The Girls’ College, Oman Ibn Alkhattab, Horriyya, Heliopolis,

Masr Algadida (New Egypt), Aabas Alaaqad, the Citadel,

6^th of October, 23^rd of July, 1^st of February?

Our family, my aunts, my uncle, my parents, would call us crazy

resigned, in agony

hurt, heart-broken

unhappy, afraid

cautious, frantic

longing, desiring

envious, ashamed

guilty, guilty

insecure, overwhelmed

agitated, reluctant

resistant, alarmed

skeptical, incredulous

surprised, surprised

exhausted, weary

arrogant and grouchy

prickly, concerned

cross, enraged

turbulent, confused

uncertain, in pain

elated, excited

jubilant, overjoyed

ecstatic, in cheer

contented, good-humored

absorbed yet relieved

eager, invigorated

curious, amazed

proud, expectant

playful, upbeat

Tahrir means Liberation

Ramses another Page

I grew up on the corner of Althawra (The Revolution), Alhorriyya (Freedom), and Almirghani (Who was he anyway? An Italian?), around the corner from the Girls’ College.  Is that why I’ve always been so rebellious and subversive? Is that why reading those Constitutional Law cases in law school made me so sick to my stomach?

I checked-in with Cairo, as I’ve done every day this week, they say they’re fine.

They feel safe enough, they say, to walk in the March of a Million the next day.

I checked-in with Cairo, as I’ve done every day this week, they say they’re ok.

My uncle wouldn’t drive them across town East to West to Liberation Square.

I checked-in with Cairo, as I’ve done every day this week,

as I’ve never done before, to this day.

They say the government’s hired goons

from among the bored tourist-predators,

the guys who drive camels and even take pictures,

and from among the unpaid police officers.

They say the government’s paying salaries

only to those who take part in Pro-Regime demonstrations,

and that Aljazeera reporters are fair play.

I checked-in with Cairo today, they say they’re going back to Saudi Arabia before it gets any worse, and before flights are cancelled. They tell me, “there’s one advantage to living near the airport.” I know. I’ve lived near airports all my life too. I say.

This Post Was Composed on January 31, 2011 by Ahmed Teleb

Nod said, “A Poem Sprouts up into Loud Linear Viral Gasps of Sexy Orchards.”

The last scrabble match of twenty-ten was a cat and dogfight between Ashina (a nanny), Emily (a PhD in cellular Biology), Ahmed (an educator), and (of course) yours truly (a poetic bum). In the skirmish we tore our claws into the choicest grammatical filet mignon. The dead-things tenderloins generated waxed viral off the board with Tuner Pisco flying the jet up the stair and Quo Hun biding his time warring through tall cedar stands in the wadi.

An essential strategy to winning scrabble is knowing how to defend. Key to defensive posturing is learning the ninety-nine officially accepted two letter words. Soon, I will have them all memorized, but here they are should you too desire to be enlightened:  aa, ab, ad, ae, ag, ah, ai, al, am, an, ar, as, at, au, ax, ay, ba, be, bi, bo, by, de, do, ed, ef, eh, el, em, en, er, es, ed, ex, fa, go, ha, he, h, ti, hm, ho, id, if, in, is, it, jo, ka, la, li, if, in, is, it, jo, ka, la, li, lo, ma, me, mi, mm, mo, mu, my, na, ne, no, nu, od, oe, of, om, on, op, or, os, ow, ox, oy, pa, pe, pi, re, sh, si, so, ta, ti, to, uh, um, un, up, us, ut, we, wo, xi.

Go figure the board is warped
like iv

who knew all those q words
are officially accepted by scrabble engine

As you can see there are a lot of “aa” & “oh” words. The “q” words that do not require a “u” are also indispensable, because more often than not when you draw your tiles “q’s” are rarely followed by “u’s.” These bars of bullion that are worth remembering are: qi, qat, qis, qadi, qaid, qats, qoph, faqir, qadis, qaids, qanat, qophs, tranq, faqirs, qabala, qanats, qindar, qintar, qiviut, qwerty, sheqel, tranqs, qabalah, qabalas, qintars, qiviuts, qwertys, qabalahs, mbaqanga, qindarka, sheqalim, mbaqangas. Thus far, I have only about three of these "q" words on instant recall.

The endgame teemed with intrigue. I went out first playing the words tug and nu. It would have been even more glorious if I had won, but I settled for not dead last. I was pleased that Emily won. The final scores were Ashina 110 – 1 = 109, Ahmed 170 – 3 = 167, Emily 190 – 4 = 186, and me with a whopping 142 + 8 = 150 big ones. I was only seventeen points behind Ahmed. Seventeen points is almost like a victory over him. And the poems weren’t that horrible either. They were like the dishes a vegan would consume in Siberia by eating only the plants available in the environment. Scrabble poetry isn't the easiest pool of words to pen a pun from. If you are brave you can see them if you scroll on down and keep reading this loud leaking egg.

The words we played this time were equally challenging: jet, er / jo / door, job, sex / jobs, ef / xi / fie, tuner, quo, aa / ad, ropes / efs, do / or / nod, eh, on / na, stair / ehs, li / er / leak, hun, leaking, sexy / ye, pisco, viral, fir / pi, quoted, loud, wit, grove, za / aloud, aw, bides / grove, bi / in / in, jete / teem, fie, tug / nu—as you can see. I bet you, the reader, have already formulated a poem or tale of aw that you wish to deepen my mind with (as a comment below)!

The ehs of fie as written in the five minute cease fire following the war:

 



...hm...what can I do now...



Ahmed Screams Aloud in Grove Wars

groves war aloud

pisco leaking egg goo

jobs doors, ropes, toys

aa sex, na hun

nod hun, eh, bi bi

groves bid aloud za

aw fir quo fir? pro xi

do nod hun do nod

ropes ton quoted ton

groves teem a loud tug

fie fie aw na xi nu

aw jo, aw sexy, aw al tree

aw sexy jete' bo jete'

aloud, tuner aa

quoted aloud

a loud grove stair



Ashena's orginal (forgive me for editing it)



Ashena Quoted Hun

Tuner quoted aw-loud jet

Ton on Hun,

aw sexy

            bi-sex in roves

Viral sex, jobs, bids

Eggs in za

War in groves on

Stairs teem ropes

Aloud jete in a tug

Quo in aa al and re

Ix effs nu na     

Leak pisco in stairs

 

 



Emily's Poem (Shat...I did it again...I edited it)



Emily Viral Quoted

Sexy jobs by the ton

Tug ye leaking egg aloud

Aw….li…pi…xi…

Fie! Fie!

War ropes in groves

Pisco toys

On jete doors

Nod sexy hun

Er wit teems

Al stair efs

Quo fir

Tuner bids

William James’ Stab At Loud Viral Sex

Nod ropes Hun

A sexy door toy quoted war

Fie Jete’s in leaking viral groves

Al nods

Al bi-sexed a job on Hun

on the stair, Fie

Jete’s in leaking viral groves

Hun tugs a ton of Nod's eggs



Down in the corner, I went out by adding a "u," which formed the words NU & TUG



Now I bet you really are dying to give this try. I won’t stop you from recombining the words played into your own clay pot of poetry. The comment section is down here. Please, knock yourself out.

A Bloody Nave’s Oral Wet Slurp

 
 

Deep Words by Dan Handy

10082011 Scrabble Poetry Exercise requires your participation. Post your instant masterpiece at the bottom of the page (as a comment, thanks)!

The student-warriors present this week were Dan, Ahmed, and myself. I don’t have too much to say about the match this week other than that Ahmed was victorious again scoring 234, Dan finished with 195, and I came in dead last with 171 points.



Josh considers ordering the S.O.



Josh, another couch surfer, showed up too late again to play scrabble. Instead he was content to scribble geometric lines and patterns on a lacy napkin. He's a retired Microsoft programmer and creative musician. On a few occasions, Josh has composed, recorded, and mastered an album (of experimental music) in twenty-four hours.





Is Ahmed cheating? Is he planing his next play in the dictionary...hm..
...this must be why he usually wins...



I was close four plays in



my two big plays for 25 & 26 points





The spread was tight

 

...the writers exercise is at the bottom...





you get extra credit if you can read Ahmed's hand writing



Words Played: stabs, towns, grade / we / od / ta, get / tag / ode / wet, feigns, laying, zoo / of, bloody, owed / aw / ye / id, hid / he / en, offals, qat, qi / ni, nave, amen, tap / am / pe, tape / rend, peak / ad, yo / os, xi / in, qats / slur, pouch / slurp, oh / oral, taper / re / jeer, admit, vile, cut , zit, joy, mi

this is made of yarn



The Racer Café is an interesting joint. They serve good breakfast foods and the walls are a tribute to bad art. I spent a fifteen minutes photographing a few of the worst pieces. There are several portraits of Jesus (most are in the Obama room) and one of them, on the north wall, is composed entirely of easter peeps.

the cross eyed farmers union meets at the square





peeps jeer and rend the vile pouch

 






the peeping Jesus waits to be eaten
understanding follows digestion

 



The final layout of all but these four tiles: "I, R, U, & R."

 

For this entry, the assignment of the reader is to compose a short story or poem utilizing the words played on this board. There are plenty of rich words to utilize and you shouldn’t have any difficulty at all scrawling out a few lines. Please paste your masterpiece in a comment below.

Let's see if you can make the grade...

We Plow for Foxy Fox

The first scrabble match of the year was a success. Ahmed won by going out first. But in the second to the last play, Amy a language arts teacher at a Capitol Hill private school was up by eight points. I was so looking forward to a new winner. I was rooting for her. Her husband, Yven was also a good player he challenged Ahmed on OILPAINT and won, but the second time he challenged, the word BO, it didn’t turn out so well. Bo is an officially accepted scrabble slang word from the Arkansas, which means "friend, mate or boyfriend." If Amy used this word in a sentence it would be, “Yven is my bo!”


The final scores were Amy: 122 – 1 = 121, Ahmed: 128 + 1 + 9 + 24 = 162, Me: 105 – 9 = 96, Yven: 98 – 24 = 74. At least I didn’t come in dead last. Thank you Yven for challenging the second time and for not being able to play the Q or the Z!

We laid down some really rich words. Again, I had a great combination of letters that I couldn’t find a way to lay down. Vogue would have made a great contribution to this compilation of words: nosey, ee / ee / ye, yes / sir (this was my first play), fox, ill, foxy / ya, tower, slit, burnt, we / en / en, torn, sick, stuck, ah / hi, darn, wade, ut / um / mu, greet, paint / tut, dream, (oilpaint Ahmed’s word that wasn’t), plow / od, dream / pa, avoid, viler, gone / of / ex, lip, oil, bo / do, jo, an, nub.

Now for tale of how the fox plowed the poems:


Yven the Terrible the sick ill watchmen of the Tower of Vile


we Dream
wade yet avoid the tower
the burnt eyes of the watchman stuck to the nub of his lance
I plow the water

My torn chainmail lubricated by perspiration
The resident of the castle
viler than an ill hen
darn fox, should we greet

I feel worse than sick…
yes, tip of the dream.


---Yven (pronounced “Ivan”) 1/2/2011


Dream Nub 121


sir yes,sir, Princess Amy, we burnt the viler tower


Viler tower
we burnt
oh bo
ill torn fox,
sir ah, yee
ee
nosey ut
do tip, pa
avoid “hi”
yes, foxy ya
stuck en wade, darn hen,
an od plow
jo-
dream


--- Amy 1/2/11






oh Hen, avoid that ill gloom and that odd painted plow

 Od Painted Sick Dream
Bo, ye nosey jo
No yes sir, no
Avoid ill, its foxy towers

Torn, burnt, slit, stuck, sick nub
Tut, tut

Oh hen, we oil sick, j
Viler than vile
That od, burn the painted plow

Greet ex dream, ex dream mu
Ut ex nu, do pa mi
En em ee, um em mu


---Ahmed 1/2/11




     (1)


Mighty Wizzard of ill, my name is Bo, I am power.


Hi,
my name is Bo.
My ex is gone
ill
sick
tut, tut darn.

She was foxy!
nosey,
yes sir!
A real dream slit

     (2)

Avoid the painted slit
The tower burnt to a nub
Jo was viler than Bo


can't get more consonipated than this


In a dream
Ah Mu plowed for oil
Stuck
Torn
We wade

      the dream

---My two poems




we plow, we oil ahhh....ooo, oh yess..plow...foxy fox


oh yes….foxy fox
we paint a dream
ee – ee – ee
ah – ah – ah
yes foxy fox
oh yes
we oil
we plow
oh ya…we do…
foxy fox
            …we do…


--- Josh (the comer who arrived just in time to write a poem)



hmm...how can I be prophylactic in this next play



Experiments in Fudge Packing



A Fudge Packers Success Story

 I’ve had all these other posts planned to write. Another Scrabble Poetry post from a game played last Sunday; that awkward Rainbow Contra dance (sponsored by the LGBTQ community) I attended yesterday at Seattle's Historic Washington Hall (this dance I should explore as a philosophical blurb on that genderlessness twilight experienced before the child mind transforms into the adult mind; that moment when boy and girls first begin to have an inkling that there could be a difference between them); and then I could have written about last weeks poetry slam  where my friend Carla (a short story writer) competed for her first time--- she composed one of the best spiritual religious poetic narratives I've ever heard. Further, as a side note: love and religious poems are very difficult to do well (another possible future post).

However, with the rapidly approaching holiday madness and that intense drama to see how our glorious overlords would vote on (my fate) the continuance of the unemployment extension, taxes, and all that other DC anti-people war economic crap, I decided to write about my adventures in making holiday fudge. Below are two recipes I came up with (or modified) based upon a recipe I found while surfing the net.

I made four batches total, but only three turned out. The tastiest was the fruity booze fudge, but it didn’t set up properly. It had the consistency of a wet freestanding brownie. I would like to see if it were possible to perfect this into something that is chewy instead of pudding like. My question is this, can fudge be made without evaporated milk; can it be substituted for booze?



Loosely Packed Fudge


Fruity Booze Cake


1 (7 ounce) jar marshmallow crème (+ a few additional marshmallow’s)
½ cup maple syrup
½ cup evaporated milk
½ cup booze (rum / whiskey)
2/3-cup butter
3 cups dark chocolate chips
1 (4 ounce) unsweetened bar 100% pure chocolate
1 cup chopped nuts
1/3 to ¾ cup dried fruit




Put the butter, milk, booze, syrup, extra marshmallows, and marshmallow crème into a sauce pan on low heat (stirring constantly) until the individual marshmallow breakdown and blend into the mix. Add chocolate and stir more till the chocolate blends into the liquid creamy madness and then add the fruit & nuts. Then pour into your well-greased cooling pan and pray for the mixture to set up.

Freshly Packed Fudge

Bill’s Gravity Well Fudge


7-8 ounces of Kraft’s mini-Jet Puffed marshmallows (8/10 of a 10.5 ounce bag)
¾ cup dark brown sugar
¾ cup evaporated milk
1 tablespoon Sailor Jerry’s spiced rum
¼ cup butter
3 cups dark chocolate chips
1 (4 ounce) unsweetened bar 100% pure chocolate
3/4 cup chopped nuts (hazelnuts)
¼ cup dried cherries


Step one: grease cooling pan and gathered the ingredients.
Step two: put evaporated milk, marshmallows, brown sugar, rum, and butter in the pan and mixed the ingredients together
Step three: turned the gas stove on medium heat and kept stirring till the marshmallows broke down and dissolved into the mix
Step four: dumped the chocolate into the pan and stirred till everything gelled together and began to stiffen up.
Step five: mixed in the nuts and dried fruit.
Step six: turned off heat and dumped the chocolaty richness into the well-greased pan and covered it with aluminum foil.
Step seven: placed into the refrigerator and prayed for it to set up.




A Fudge Packers Success Story 2

Addendum...spin forward seven hours...wow...this piece of fudge is heavy, beautifully smooth like metal. I think I need to rename this hunk of chewy glassy richness from gravity well fudge to heavy black metal grunge. This tastes like how the gripping noose of Slipknot or the Black Magic nights of Slayer or the gothic girly band Tristania or the experimental metal band Byzantine or how those final gurgling warrior breaths of Neurosis tone in to my ear. After sampling a piece I felt the crushing gravity of it as I passed through the event horizon of a black hole.




Hopefully, my four nieces and two nephews will enjoy this fudge for Christmas better than the thoughtful gifts I gave them last year that they didn't know how to process (like uncle Bill's mixed metal cd; where I compiled all my favorite metal tunes for my oldest nephew; I thought it was time for him to stop listening to the pop, pop rock of Lady Gaga and enter into that driving maelstrom of masculinity and aggression experienced only within the realm of heavy effing metal).

Last thoughts: I'm wondering, if I had used one ounce less of marshmallows and molasses (like 1/4 cup) instead of the dark brown sugar, it might have turned out denser and more chewy like my very first try at fudge packing.


Merry Christmas