The book is always better

The viewings leave such to be desired

Nothing is taken down to the letter

And I want the director fired

Why can’t he take the light

That burned so brightly in me

that kept me woke throughout the night

And shine it out for all to see?

He’s pilfered and he’s filtered

To condense into the time

And I am left bewildered

At the audacity of his crime!

The faces wrong, the words atrocious!

A subplot gone, my rage ferocious!

A forced romance, there goes the sequel

(It can’t advance without its equal).

I sit here mad, in my uneasy chair

I’ve been had, and it isn’t fair

For I will watch this film again.

The story botched, but still a win.

….a poem inspired by Netflix’s recent movies on books I have absolutely adored. I ate “The Guernsey Lliterary and Potato Peel Pie Society” like a famished reader. It was so well done and I fell in love with each character, and how the author made all of it so real. And I don’t mean in the way some excellent fantasy authors make you seriously consider magic, but as if I was truly peering into these people’s lives. I felt a different, but equal, kind of joy from reading the series of “The Thursday Murder Club” books. Less real people, but just fun to read in the same way beach books are, but a little more cerebral. Then I watched their Netflix counterparts. Look, I knew going in. I’m one of the “DID YOU PUT YOUR NAME IN THE GOBLET OF FIRE?!” complainers. And on top of that, it was, ya know, Netflix. So when characters got mushed together and subplots traded in for cameos, I only groaned minimally. And really, I shouldn’t groan at all. Because “Guernsey” is now one of my treasured volumes. It’s one I will tell others they HAVE to read, but refuse to lend my own copy out (we all have a few of those, don’t we?). But- and here’s the turn- I wouldn’t have even looked it up if Netflix hadn’t suggested the movie to me. It came up on my “for you” list and I thought “well that sounds more like the title of a book… an interesting book.” So I went on my search, found it, and the rest is me curled up in a ball well into the night in my plant nook. So can I complain? In this time of growing illiteracy (both basic and media and artistic, really all senses) shouldn’t we be celebrating anything that can lead people to story? Or should we be arguing that instead- these things should be done perfectly right? I’m really asking. I’ve argued myself in both directions. I suppose tonight my stance is, this book led me to rhyme for the first time in weeks, and I am grateful for any way it came to me.

What is your top “The Book Was Better”?

With too many conspiracies being proven true lately (and mostly the sad, bad ones) I think we all deserve a new fun one. As a treat.

Especially since so many of the entertaining ones have been stolen from us, like good ol’ Nessy (who at best was a monk’s fever dream after too much scribing with dubious-plant-based inks, and at worst was a money grab, and realistically, probs both).

So I give you: There is no Eye in Evolve. (Get it? No I, no eye? Hee hee)

It starts with a great base: Jellyfish are trying to take over the world. Why? Easy- they’ve managed to float basically unchanged through all of history, ever, no matter if oceans freeze (they don’t even go dormant really. They just kind… stop… until they melt) or meteors take out half the population- big deal! They’re good! Just wait for the random midnight that happens under certain moons to repopulate under conditions even horoscope girlies think is a bit much.

Until us- humans are starting to change the ocean in ways that jellies are having to actually adjust to. Ugh. They are having to evolve for the first time… like ever. Well, more like the 3rd time, but that’s about 45000 fewer times than the next least-evolving species. They’re shifting the genus around to deal with acidification and temperature change and food scarcity. This is too much for the jellyfish. If they’re gonna have to make an actual effort- damn it- it’s gonna be a big one.

Yet hate is a strong feeling for a brainless floating blob. They’re not taking over the world to kill us all- no no! That would really trash up the waterways. They just think they, we, the planet, would be better off jelly. Jelly is great. We should all be jelly.

The process? Gotta take those weird mammalian things that crawled out of the waters back to a more suitable standard. The first move? Get rid of the eye. Don’t need that. Jelly got rhopalia, does the trick. Rhopalia are VERY light sensitive. Obviously, infiltrate leading technology (easy- have you ever seen an AI bot and a jellyfish in the same room? No. How about an IT expert and a jellyfish? No one has. Ever. Cause they’re the same). Blow up the lights. Lamps? Huge bulbs, never go out. Make them literally buzz with annoying power. Phones? Big huge screens that each update get subtly brighter. Make bigger phones more socially cool. Cars? Turn those beams UP. No human should be able to see when driving. Give up the eyeball or crash trying.

It might… it might also be moths in charge. Never mind I’ll worry about that later.

This is why you’re addicted to your phone. It’s not marketing schemes, it’s not the government taking your data. It’s the jellies.

And oh, what’s that? You can’t see now that your ridiculously over evolved orbs are reconstituted to a nice little sensory nerve? I guess you’ll be doing a lot of grasping around in the dark. If only you had more arms… many of them… maybe it would be easier to not move so much. To just… float along? BOOM. Everything is jelly.

I mean this conspiracy has EVERYTHING! A not-so-innocent-afterall main character, government infiltration, a long-con. I think it’s gonna go places. Mostly wet places. As all places should be. Dark and wet and filled with yummy zooplankton…

…what?

Jellyfish. There’s no Eye in Evolve.

You scream. I scream. We all scream. Because you’re in my house and neither of us wants that. Oh tiny creature of the night They say you are fear But I see fear in your tiny eyes, your shivering wing. Trust me. I shiver as well when the world is too big, too bright. Now get in the tupperware so I may release you into the dark.

I rise Just to fall again Slam again Betray my friend Who is just there On the end Doing their little best.

Why are you not like the rest? Why do you keeping passing or, is it failing, This test? When it’s clear you’re not wanted Not needed Not heeded.

You’re not meant to roam You’re meant to head home Bruised and battered As you are

…a slam poem for my broken pinky toe that I slammed again this morning.