Dilettante sounds alarm on Dickinson #754

Amherst, MA — Has Emily Dickinson been the victim of a grand literary negligence?  A local hobbiest in Dickinsonian studies is claiming that poem #754 “My Life had stood — A Loaded Gun –” has been misquoted in the literary record for eighty-seven years due in part to a loss of freely available laudanum in pre-war London.

“Look at the poet’s original manuscript,” squealed 0.001% famous artist Theo Fadel through a megaphone outside the Emily Dickinson Museum while waving a facsimile of the poet’s original draft. “It’s My LIVE! Come on! Quit saying It’s My LIFE, which is a Bon Jovi song — Doesn’t anyone know the difference?” Ms. Fadel acknowledges that a real academic may have already noticed, somewhere, but being an amatuer herself, how should she know? She does know that no one has come around to fix her books.

The Charlottean hopes not to be shut down for reprinting this modest sample of the original in the interest of literary truth. The manuscript is owned by Harvard University, as opposed to the American people.

The original manuscript actually does say “Live” and not “Life.”  The word live was exchangeable with the word life, archaically. A docent edging his head from a museum shop window suggested to Ms. Fadel that the original editor of 1929 believed she had tweaked the poem into modern English. Throwing a handful of hemlock cones the amateur scholar snapped through her megaphone, “How do you people get these jobs? Emily Dickinson IS modern English. What’s to tweak?”

A yard squirrel spitting mary-gold petals from its mouth spun on its heel to add, “And live has everything to do with a loaded gun. Why would she NOT use a word that means explosive as well as life when describing the position of life force between the material mechanicals of this world and an ultimate reconciliation with eternity? Why not?”

“I suppose,” ventured the docent, “that the v of live enables a phonetic gesture towards the word love what with Loaded directly beneath supplying the ohhh sound and tons of her poems bind the measures of living life and love.”

A cyclist illegally speeding across the museum grounds hit an exposed oak root and shot over his handlebars onto a small pile of gravel and loose teeth. Raising a bloodied face he smiled, “Love, even Harold Bloom knows that when Emily uses the word Master she’s invoking a geometry of Romantic Love, in one or another reality.” The cyclist refers to lines 13 through 16:

“And when at Night — Our good Day done–/ I guard My Master’s Head–/ ‘Tis better than the Eider-Duck’s/ Deep Pillow– to have shared–”

“Enough!” shouted Ms. Fadel. “Okay, so some publishing people made a mistake in 1929, in Londonia. Between the banning of Lady Chatterley’s Lover and The House at Pooh Corner, people were fagged out. Minds were blown. Understand? And has anybody yet recovered from the loss of unregulated laudanum? We can forgive the reckless disregard of one of the greatest poets of the English language, but for the love of God after 87 years of misprint after misprint could we just fix it?!”

Ms. Fadel is drafting a bill for the US Senate that would mandate the US Postal Service to print millions of adhesive backed v’s in a variety of fonts and ship them worldwide to all owners of print copies of poem #754. “I’m also asking for millions of O‘s,” she added, “because a yard squirrel who knew Monique Wittig has just pointed out a problem in line 10 where a capital O has been disfigured into a U.”

Read a transcription of “My Live had stood” here.


Vulcan Ambassador tours Micro-Gnome villages

A micro-gnome salutes the Vulcan ambassador who is currently on tour in East MicroGnomia. Pyrograph courtesy of T. Reen Fadel and MicroGnome Media.

MICROGNOMIA — Not for Vulcans this region where violet stems are lumber and money grows in tiny magical chamber pots at the ends of garden sprinkler rainbows — until now.  T’ikun-tok is the new and first ambassador from the planet Vulcan to MicroGnomia. She is crawling across the region on her hands and knees in a goodwill tour, passing out gourmet fungi while passing the Vulcan Peace. Villagers at first confused have quickly learned  to “make the Vee thingy” in hope of a chanterelle tossed their way.

“She rolled me a white truffle the size of my head” exclaimed Seamus  O’Sark whose last name means “honorable beetle” in Vulcan. “I can curl my tongue too! But she dinna give me anything for it.”

The Vulcans long ago gave up their elving ways and can neither mine nor manufacture humor and cuteness.  “It’s impossible to create successful ad campaigns for useless kitchen appliances and unnecessary medications without something cute and maybe funny”  explained Spockton Hulala, a Vulcan trader now based in Carbon Creek, Pennsylvania. Vulcan is one of the Milky Way’s largest manufacturers of single cup coffee makers and repositioned pharmaceuticals, neither of which can be sold to Humans without the use of hypnosis. Industry experts have long warned that without a reliable source of buffoonium the Vulcan economy will collapse.

Buffoonium is an inexplicable element used in hypnotic constructions. It saturates the ground in all of MicroGnomia. “Every citizen of MicroGnomia is a miniature buffoonium mine” quiped Ambassador T’ikun-tok, “We want to be friends.”

“Is this a sincere overture to law abiding trade,  or is it the start o’ an invasion?” shouted a small figure in a fancy jacket atop a tall, swaying tower of twigs.

O’Sark lightly scraped a tooth across his truffle then paused. “She’s an awfully big boned lass” he ventured as the Vulcan ambassador moved along down the tiny highway, “but look how she’s got the ears of an angel.”


Full steam the Chemical Wedding

Thank you, you 1,327 lovely people who funded the kickstarter for fancy shoes and ribbons on John Crowley’s the Chemical Wedding by Christian Rosencreutz , and for a very nice pie from the Florence Pie Bar.  Small Beer Press will deliver the book this fall. There are go-go dancing robots, because it’s illustrated by Theo Fadel.

A mechanical sheep charges full steam ahead for John Crowley's "the Chemical Wedding by Christian Rosencreutz"
An ecstatic mechanical sheep runs a little jig. She is now able to wear these shoes on fancy pantaloon editions of the Chemical Wedding by Christian Rosencreutz to be released this fall by Small Beer Press.


Princess Leia Wagon Wheels Finally Explained

The Princess Leia LEGO wig and the writings of Carl Jung are two products that can improve your brain health. They are manufactured by the first and second happiest countries in the world.


UPSTAIRS COLLEGE — Local researchers have discovered that Princess Leia’s iconic cinnamon buns hairdo is modeled on two large holes in the human brain. “The braided wheels are actually a volumetric analogue of the lateral ventricles” explained Dr. Noname (no-Nah-may). “We all have them. They are part of a system that washes the brain with special brain juice — the brain’s bidet. It’s most active when we sleep. This cosmotological analogue boosts it’s performance.”

But how to sleep, or do much of anything, with two party donuts strapped to your head? “Some other person wears them, Carrie Fisher or me, not you” said Dr. Pinky Leiago. “You see them on someone else and unconsciously imagine them on yourself.  At a deep level you remember your own lateral ventricles. You feel good about them, not consciously, but the ventricles know you’re thinking about them and they do their job a little better. It’s not unlike a gentleman  seeing an F-Dodge-Ram-500 pickup truck and being unconsciously reminded of his organ. Princess Leia Organa’s donuts work in a similar way.”

Upstairs College has submitted a brief on Organa’s Donuts to the Jung Institute in Zürich. “It’s new broken up ground” said Dr. Leiago. “We think Zürich will agree that Organa’s Donuts should be included in the official cannon of Jungian archetypes.”


Treasure Trove!

Bowls and practice boards created at Turn and Burn, Theo Fadel’s weekend introduction to woodturning and pyrography at Snow Farm.

WILLIAMSBURG — A stunning horde of fine woodcraft was discovered over the weekend.  It was well concealed within dusty old chunks of poplar wood at Snow Farm, a craft school nestled in the Ancient Western Massachusetts hill towns.  Four fine woodworkers made the discovery, some of whom did not know they were woodworkers until Sunday.

“I’m so happy” remarked one artisan. “It’s a real treasure” said pyrography and  woodcrafting  guide Theo Fadel, “The Black Forest is so much larger than most people realize. Pockets of it regularly appear at places like Snow Farm where people are hunting for lovely artifacts. The fairy undergrowth often tosses up a lovely horde like this marvelous set of bowls from within its roots . . . just like that.”

The discovery was coincidental to Turn and Burn, Theo Fadel’s introductory workshop on woodturning and pyrography conducted the same weekend at Snow Farm.