maid yourself

A poem.


my problem has always been

in the
execution.

the execution.
touching it up again and
can’t leave it alone,
critical of the tone
again,
it’s that execution.

keeping it up with poor health
poor people
poor job,
poor me –
one thing slips and
that cascading effect is a
direct result
of
poor execution.

poor contributions.

no waving.
not that guy in shades staking claim at the
smokers’ pit again,
or the shady area in front of the recycling.
i’ve had forty years to perfect the act
of blowing it totally
in the execution.

the execution.
and i like to sin.

it makes me feel good

feel something when i know i’m not winning,
easier than pulling myself back up
to simply submit,
walk away with the neighbours coming

than to execute.


400 Words on: Thunderbolts* (2025)

or, “$180 and Not $180-Million”:
A spoiler-free mini movie review.


1 out of 5

Marvel’s “Thunderbolts*” is lustreless – not just in its “New Avengers” advertising, or its ragtag group of antiheroes: accrued from a roster that studio boss Kevin Feige himself, ironically, would call “homework.”

A lifetime ago, I made an uncouth script pitch for a cop movie to a university girlfriend, with its villain a serial rapist. She asked why it was so important to use rape as a plot device. “Because it sells!”

What I meant to say (retrospectively) was that, along with child peril & domestic abuse, rape elicits a powerful viewer response, which they want ‘avenged’ by the time the credits roll. That’s just one of the stupid things I said & did to send that relationship into free-fall, much like Marvel Studio’s stupid choices since “Avengers: Endgame” in 2019 – theirs’ being a lack of creative honour, and too much contextual juggling.

Irrespectively, Marvel productions still carry a professional-grade aesthetic, even if you don’t connect with them on a human level. But while there’s no literal rape in Thunderbolts*, it violated my other sensibilities.

[cont’d]

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