Sternal Journal: A poem for you this holiday week! (And sure, some shows!)
Happy holiday week, Sternal Journalists!
Thanks to everyone who came to my New York show! I had a blast! The rest of you: read through the next 80 words of promotional material to see if any of it pertains to you, and then enjoy the semi-public debut of Snacking with the Snack King, a poem/children's book who, as of today, has been rejected by no less than 4 notable literary agents.
D.C. Shows
Comments Section @ Capitol Cider House in Petworth
7-9PM Tonight (Wednesday)
Julian Stern, As Per Usual, Blows You Away D.C.
10PM Friday (11/29)
L.A. Shows
As Per Usual @ The Comedy Central Stage
Tues. December 17, 8PM
(LA People, this is THE ONE TO COME TO! It's free! Get your ticket NOW)
As Per Usual Returns to Lyric Hyperion
Sat. January 4th, 5PM
(LA! If you can't make the other one, then this is the one).
That's it for promotion! Now onto that lil poem thang. This is a very earnest (but I hope fun and whimsical!) tale about meeting your heroes, professional burnout, and staying joyful about the things that bring you joy. I hope it brings you joy if you need it.
Snacking with the Snack King
If you’re a snacky person who has ever snacked before,
whether nibbling now and then, or a full-on snackivore,
I’ve a story I can tell you that I think you might enjoy
of the time I met the person who made snacking their employ.
I was just about your age, give or take about a year,
when I had to do a project on a prospective career.
The assignment from my teacher (who I sometimes found quite tiresome):
to go into the world and find someone I find inspiresome.
I scratched up on my head and then I scrinched a’ down my chin,
and then I asked my friends and family where they thought I ought begin.
“That’s a very silly question,” they all said, then sent me packing
for the obvious solution was to interview the Snack King!
See, the town that I am from is at the bottom of a mound.
At the top, there is a house that never lets out not a sound.
And the rumor round the hillock, and by rumor, I mean fact,
is that the owner of this mansion made his riches making snack.
Yes, the titan of tidbits, the mogul of morsels
lived just up the street from us munch-happy mortals.
And though I’m not certain if you like to nosh,
in the time and the place where I’m from, it was posh.
So I stalked up the block of this snacking savant
and I knocked on the knocker shaped like a croissant
And just when I thought, “Not a bad little plan.”
The door swung to reveal… a sad little man.
“I’m… sorry,” I said to this sorrowful sight.
“I’m a child from the town, and I thought that I might
speak to the owner, the one who does snack?
But if he’s not around, I can surely come back.”
“Hm!” the man humphed. Then curiously,
he uttered these words: “The Snack King is me.”
I couldn’t believe it, with all due respect.
But his eyes said his mouth had said something correct.
So I got out my journal, got out of my shell,
and I asked if he’d mind if I asked him to tell
me a couple of pointers or tips or suggestions
directing my life in a snacking direction.
He laughed and he sighed and he swallowed (his pride?),
and he asked me to kindly just follow inside.
I entered, and gently, he closed up the door.
Then he gave me this speech, as he gave me a tour:
“I’ve got snacks upon snacks upon snacks upon snacks.
I’ve got so many snacks, I can’t even relax!”
“The problem, you see, is snacks are what I love.
I’ve got snacks down below; I’ve got snacks up above.”
“I’ve got so many snacks because snacks are my passion!
Snacks are my art and snacks are my fashion.”
“Snacks on my shelves and snacks on my racks.
I’ve got snacks upon snacks upon snacks upon snacks.”
“But wait, let’s rewind. I’ll begin at the start.
I was just a wee toddler with mom at the mart.”
“We walked down an aisle which I couldn’t believe
with treats by the tube, and chips by the sleeve,”
“with names like Puffsplozion and Nut Butter Jammers.
I knew in that moment that I was enamored.”
“I knew in that moment- I promised, I swore-
one day, I would become a snack connoisseur.”
“I went to snack camp, enrolled in a snack magnet.
The trophy for best snack student? I bagged it!”
“One day, I was called to the Office of Snack Dean.
He said, ‘You’re the most promising snack student that we’ve ever seen.”
“‘You’ve greatly surpassed our snack threshold, you see.
Have you considered the snack arts professionally?’”
“Had I? Only with every dream, night and day,
did I hope that my crack snack acumen might pay!”
“And with that, I applied to all of the snack colleges
pursuing mastery in all of the snack knowledges.”
“I double majored in crunching and munching, minored in savoring—
studied abroad in Mumbai at the world’s top school for flavoring.”
“I defended my thesis on poof quotients with ease
(It was published in the American Journal of Snacks Filled with Cheese).”
“I was the top of my class, Summa Yum! Laude.
That night, all the snack grads went out and got rowdy.”
“But not me, oh no, I stayed in and kept toiling
on Oh-Hos and Twizzles and their points of boiling.”
“I was top recruit at the Top Snack Consultancy—
twenty hour days because who needs the sun to see?”
“I worked very hard and I rose in the ranks.
I developed schematics for pretzel-filled franks.”
“And after a few years of work at the company,
I was promoted to VP of Pumpkin-ing.”
“All of those snacks that are flavored like gourds?
Spearheaded by me! They were flavored in hordes.”
“Pumpkin in slurbees and toffees and coffees,
pumpkin in jerkies, no pumpkin too lofty.”
“That was the year I skipped home for the holidays,
but I had to perfect my pureed pumpkin hollandaise.”
“They knew I was working. They weren’t disappointed.
The crown prince of snacking’s what I’d been anointed!”
“When the president needed new snacks for a meeting,
who made the krinklets the Joint Chiefs were eating?!”
“It was me! I made snacks for all the celebrities!
Air-lifted doodle-puffs! Sealed them hermetically!”
“Everyone knew that my snacks were the snackiest!
All that I touched turned to cheesy, miraculous,”
“crackery, crumbily, lick all the wrapper-y,
chip-dip so hip that you take a big nap-ery.”
“SNACKS! I’m sorry. What was the question?
You’d like some career-in-snacking direction?”
“Well, you listen here and heed my advice.
Turn around! Run away! Don’t even think twice!”
“Pursuit of the snack arts is lonely and dooming.
Snacks should be consumed! Not do the consuming!”
“There’s no time for me, though. I’m fully betrothed
to a life I once loved. But this life I now loathe.”
With that, he sat on his throne of nou-gat,
and let out a sigh that fell more like a splat.
And I thought to myself, well, okay. This is bumming.
I didn’t exactly see all of this coming.
But this is my idol, someone I respect.
Perhaps if I try, I could have an effect.
So I gathered my gumption, I stared straight up at him,
And here’s what I said to him, truly ver-bat-im:
“Listen. I love snacking. Like you, I’m obsessed.
I’ve admired for years and you’ve always impressed.”
“Not just your snacks, but your work and perspiry—
those are the things that have truly inspired me.”
“But here’s why I have to decline your request.
I’m not in pursuit of being the best.”
“I snack for enjoyment, for love of the game!”
Not for a title or fortune or fame.”
“So maybe consider your negative notion
could simply be solved with a bite of Puffsplozion.”
“A taste of your childhood, nostalgia to nibble.
Then maybe you wouldn’t just quarrel and quibble
“about all these things that are really just trivial.
You’re the Snack King! You should be convivial!”
“If you take a bite and find joy is still lacking,
perhaps it’s not I who should leave and get packing.”
Then I reached in my pocket, and procured a puff
that I’d brought in case breakfast had been not enough.
And he eyed it with eyes that I hadn’t yet glimpsed.
They were ravenous, cavernous, reverent blimps.
He took it, he ate it, and said so profoundly:
(And these are the words I will leave you with now-ly,
for these little words gave my brain a good smacking,
for these are the words of the infamous Snack King.)
“Oh, my goodness, my crackers! You’re right!
It’s flooding right back to me! Cheesy delight!”
“It’s okay to work hard, it’s a great way to be!
Especially when doing so passionately!”
“But the work you are doing can never replace
The reason for working! The snacks and the taste!”
“The crisps and the crinkles all over the land!
Because hard work and no love makes snacks very bland.”
THE END
And that's also the end of the Sternal Journal!
My only recs this week are doubling down on last Journal's podcast recs of Dolly Parton's American and Scattered (both so, so good) and also to say that I'm reading Kurt Vonnegut's Timequake right now and I think it's pretty nifty.
I am very thankful you read this far (and for you in general) and wish you a holiday of keeping your snacks un-bland.
<3 Julian