Know Your Nose

Kurt Vonnegut’s portrait signature is forever something to be remembered by. Simplistic in it’s execution, it says a lot about the man; his wild hair depicting his no-boundary style of work, his forever-in-thought eyes, his signature in the middle of it all, representing the clutter in his mind that most writers and creative folk are merely impacted with.

kurt-vonneguts-signature

A friend and I were talking about this the other day.

Me: You know some hipster douche bag is going to try and recreate this with their name and their portrait then brand it as their own and call it a ‘coincidence’.

Friend: Of course… In fact, you should be the first douche bag to do it.

Me: I don’t think I have any features worth exaggerating. My facial profile isn’t very exciting…

Friend: I wouldn’t say that. Your nose is kind of adorable.

Me: What.

Friend: Your personality really stems from it, I’d say. It’s like one of those turned-up, pixie/button noses, but with a disruptive slope – You know, like one of those giant slides you see at fair grounds with the bump in the middle of them… Beauty meets not-so-beauty. Like Anne Baxter, but maybe after being punched in the face once or twice… Though, your septum doesn’t drag down like some people, but maybe the way your nostrils flare when you get really, really pissed off could- Yeah, like that! -And the crinkle in your brow when- Wait, why are you giving me that look?

Me: I’m thinking of twenty different ways to hurt you without killing you.

Friend: I’d be careful about that. Because clearly I know how to describe you to the police department’s sketch artist.

Me: No you don’t – You’d just send them on a hunt for a rabid McDonald’s playplace.

With that said, I did create a new signature last night. And you know what? May all of my signatures be forever as slopey as a run down carnival ride, as wavy as the rolling hills of the Seven Sisters, as regal as the back fat from a devoted Wal*Mart customer.

I hope you all have a fantastic day, and pat your schnoz on the bridge. It deserves it.

signed,

shnoz sig

On The Abandoned Railroad Tracks

big_thumb_f29a0c8a9db8e303d4508d320f380127

On the abandoned railroad tracks
I kiss the rust of history
It’s smoldering touch is cold and rough
And traced with torn up hosiery

On the abandoned railroad tracks
A shoe is left behind
It’s royal blue had torn right through
It’s heel had scuff marks like a dime

On the abandoned railroad tracks
Gold glitters in my eyes
A bracelet broken; forever glowing
Like diamonds in a velvet sky

“I wonder who she was,” I thought
Too blind to look ahead
Too deaf to hear the horn they blew
And now we both are dead