'the', a Tribute to Chaos Theory And Twitter

Michael Jackson Memorial site, maybe Elvis or the Beatles,

I wonder what the odds are of my grocery store selling an 8 inch springform pan?

Today, every time I feel the urge to complain, I’m going try to instead praise God. Ain’t He good?

Okay. You can be the guinea pig, I mean the first lucky person to try it,

Sorry I couldn’t help you guys out and buy anything… my sister’s 18th is tomorrow I’m broke!

This was the perfect morning to start my walk\jog!

At the dentist, ready for the torture,

108 days until the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon. If I don’t get it in gear I’ll never be ready. Must RUN more!!!

Isn’t that stating the obvious for most cases?

CREOpoint will be an essential part of the DNA of whatever the global CRE industry will be,

Christmas- and in the night we’ll wish this never ends, we’ll wish this never ends. I miss you.

Jace sounds pretty cool, Simon reminds me of Simon off Alvin and the chipmunks,

Starting the day early Bow,Teresa, both are travelling today,

Demi, congrats on the album well done! even though I’m in London I’m gonna find a way to get it.

Big up’s to for performing at Teddys tonight in Hollywood.The night was epic!!!

I have mooned at the postman. I think he was quite scared.

The Law of Consistency by Perry Belcher (Search Engine …)Morrissey + Doll & The Kicks @ Brixton tonight. Cannot wait.

In bed listening to vintage Stones right now, honky tonk.

The 165 on and off ramps on 94SB have REOPENED.

Which helps since they just closed the 94SB “C” off and on ramps Monday.



Is there any discernable poetry in Twitter? When he wrote ‘The Wasteland’, T.S. Eliot used many allusions to famous writers, philosophers and poets of the past and there is often unusual juxtaposition of the quotes as he follows his train of thought and develops his ideas. The ‘poem’ above draws on a similar principle in that it draws together various profound expressions of our current ‘Twitterers’. The method used for constucting this poem draws on my experience of producing class poems in one of my teaching posts, where individual children would in turn suggest what the next line of the poem should be. The difference here is that there may be no discernable theme to the poem, which is where chaos theory comes into the equation. In some ways, though, the unusual juxtaposition of the individual tweets is similar to the way in which children in a class vie with one another to construct the next line. The way in which these lines were put together is similar in that they appear in real-time sequence, in the order they appeared on my Twitter home page. Could this form of expression reflect the contemporary culture of our 21st. century. Like childrens voices in a class, the Tweets often come at us as voices shouting louder and louder to give expression to their feelings, thoughts and world-view in the hope that someone will here.

Like it or loathe it, it looks as though Twitter is here to stay for the foreseeable future. Does anyone see its potential as a source of poetry or a historical slice of our contemporary culture. I may try some further experiments, some quotable quotes as are evident in The Wasteland may emerge; Eliot saw the insertion of these as a way of keeping history and culture alive, is it worth doing this with our ‘Tweets’ or are they better read and quickly forgotten? By the way, the common thread in these Tweets is the word ‘the’, as you may have ascertained from the title.


A tribute to and celebration of Chicken Fricassee

Preheat the oven

to Gas Four. Put the onions

or shallots in a bowl,

Add just enough boiling water to cover them-

And leave to soak, soak, soak.

Meanwhile, rinse the chicken pieces well in cold, cold water,

And pat them dry with crisp, crepitating kitchen paper.

Melt-half, yes just half the butter with olive oil, that Oh so great healing balm,

In a large frying pan, yes that big!

Add the chicken pieces and cook on a high and elevated warmth, if not very heat itself,

Turning them occasionally, until a light, light brown suntan is produced all over,

Then, using a slotted spoon, yes one with holes in its surface,

Otherwise you may use tongs, transfer the chicken pieces to a large casserole dish,

Leaving the juices behind with a fond farewell for the moment.

Steps four to eight form an interlude where various things are done with flour, pan juices,

wine, which is blended in, A pot is covered, mixtures are boiled and bouquet garni and lemon juice are added,

The pot is left to boil for an interminable hour!

Using our friendly device, the slotted spoon, or failing that the ever reliable tongs,

remove chicken and vegetables to a welcoming warm dish,

Add the cream and 30 millilitres of parsley, oh, the comforting parsley, to the sauce.

Then you must whisk, whisk, whisk to conjoin the two lovers, parsley and sauce,

The seasoning should then be inspected, checked, adjusted, and set back on a rightful path,

But only if this is really necessary.

It is now time for the anointing of the chicken and vegetables, those unwilling victims, after which

The fricassee is christened with the remaining, lonely, yearning parsley who has been ignored until now.

The now whole, complete and satiated fricassee is to be joined in an offering with mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables.



Can the daily preparation and cooking of food be a form of poetry in its own right. In this poem I develop the plot in such a way that the characters appear unexpectedly, because we are not told beforehand the cast of charcters involved in the drama. Note the homage which is paid to the various ingredients and the correction and change which takes place in their lives, culminating in the final baptism of fire and offering of the transformed, completed, interwoven coagulation to the humble recipient who may accept the offering and find it pleasing or may reject it as something unpalatable.

If you are interested in the development of Twitter/chaos/computer poetry or the elevation of the mundane, do send me any comments or observations about this article.

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