On the Memory of Princess Di (a poem)

On the Memory of Princess Di

my girlfriend and I
had an argument

whose death
had a bigger impact?

Princess Diana

or Mr. Hooper
you know,
the white-whiskered, bespectacled
beloved storekeeper on Sesame Street

Diana helped millions
she said
was loved by
all except him
(and who cares about him?)
embodied
beauty and grace
truly
the People’s Princess

Yeah
I said
but
when
Mr. Hooper died
it made Big Bird cry

and that was one
big fucking canary.

Not a Problem

I've started this blog as a place to post my writing, including a few published pieces and a lot more of stuff that I don't know what to do with otherwise. This can include essays that are not very marketable, screwy little poems, and, like the millions of other blogs out there, general musings and rants.

Let me start with my standard rant about "not a problem." This has now all but replaced "you're welcome" when the conversation in question includes a waiter. They bring you a bottle of ketchup, you say "thank you," and they say "no problem," or "not a problem."

I realize they don't mean anything bad by this, and in fact are trying to be polite, but why would it be a problem? Isn't this just a subtle way of saying, "Hey, it could have been a problem, but I went out of my way for you. So I agree you should be thanking me."