Via Neatorama--a performance from a talent show at Virginia Tech.
UPDATE: How about that--according to Wikipedia, both Jon Stewart & Karl Rove are "Prominent Pikes."
2.27.2009
"It's in the click of my eternal return..."
Nada Gordon's ~~ululations~~ is probably my favorite blog to read these days. She posts excellent poems, among other things, seemingly daily, and they're full of great phrases like "I won't be adulthoodedness anymore," "I’ll weep here until my tag clouds run dry," and "Baby please don't lurch at me."
She posted this take-off on Maya Angelou's "Phenomenal Woman" a few days back. Empowering as many have found "Phenomenal Woman," I'm glad to have other options.
From Nada Gordon's ~~ululations~~:
Phenomenal Philosopher
(after Maya Angelou)
Petty philosophers wonder where my thesis lies.
I'm not smart or built to theorize
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my propositions
The span of my logic,
The stride of my argument,
The curl of my rhetoric.
I'm a philosopher
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal philosopher,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a disciple,
The acolytes stand or
Fall down on their syllogisms.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of minor premises.
I say,
It's the fire in my cogito,
And the flash of my materialism,
The swing in my noumena,
And the joy in my ontology.
I'm a philosopher
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal philosopher,
That's me.
Disciples themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner monadology.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my mind-body problem,
The sun of my hermeneutics,
The ride of my fallacies,
The grace of my axioms.
I'm a philosopher
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal philosopher,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not contingent.
I don't appeal to emotion or authority
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me ratiocinating
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my eternal return,
The bend of my dialectic,
the Weltanshauung of my Wirklichkeit,
The need of my petitio principii,
'Cause I'm a philosopher
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal philosopher,
That's me.
She posted this take-off on Maya Angelou's "Phenomenal Woman" a few days back. Empowering as many have found "Phenomenal Woman," I'm glad to have other options.
From Nada Gordon's ~~ululations~~:
Phenomenal Philosopher
(after Maya Angelou)
Petty philosophers wonder where my thesis lies.
I'm not smart or built to theorize
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my propositions
The span of my logic,
The stride of my argument,
The curl of my rhetoric.
I'm a philosopher
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal philosopher,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a disciple,
The acolytes stand or
Fall down on their syllogisms.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of minor premises.
I say,
It's the fire in my cogito,
And the flash of my materialism,
The swing in my noumena,
And the joy in my ontology.
I'm a philosopher
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal philosopher,
That's me.
Disciples themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner monadology.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my mind-body problem,
The sun of my hermeneutics,
The ride of my fallacies,
The grace of my axioms.
I'm a philosopher
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal philosopher,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not contingent.
I don't appeal to emotion or authority
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me ratiocinating
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my eternal return,
The bend of my dialectic,
the Weltanshauung of my Wirklichkeit,
The need of my petitio principii,
'Cause I'm a philosopher
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal philosopher,
That's me.
2.26.2009
Legacy Libraries at LibraryThing
LibraryThing has a neat thing going with "Legacy Libraries": records of famous dead people's libraries--what they owned--and their comments/reviews, gleaned from marginalia in their books, from their letters, or from remarks they made elsewhere. Here's Benjamin Franklin's library. Here's a sample "review" from Franklin, on William Cowper's Poems: "The relish for reading poetry had long since left me; but there is something so new in the manner, so easy, and yet so correct in the language, so clear in the expression, yet concise, and so just in the sentiments, that I have read the whole with great pleasure, and some of the pieces more than once." - BF to John Thornton, 8 May 1782.
Legacy Libraries are voluntarily compiled by a user group on Library Thing, I See Dead People's Books. One can join a Legacy project already underway or start a new one. "Completed" libraries (in quotes because LibraryThing acknowledges that completed is a relative term here) include those of Ezra Pound, Tupac Shakur, Marilyn Monroe, George S. Patton Jr., Susan B. Anthony., and others. Libraries-in-progress include those of Susan Sontag, James Joyce, Emily Dickinson, Harry Truman, and others. All are linked to the "I See Dead People" page.
In addition to the whole "labor of love" thing, creating a Legacy Library might be a good side project/assignment for grad students doing in-depth independent studies of certain writers--
Legacy Libraries are voluntarily compiled by a user group on Library Thing, I See Dead People's Books. One can join a Legacy project already underway or start a new one. "Completed" libraries (in quotes because LibraryThing acknowledges that completed is a relative term here) include those of Ezra Pound, Tupac Shakur, Marilyn Monroe, George S. Patton Jr., Susan B. Anthony., and others. Libraries-in-progress include those of Susan Sontag, James Joyce, Emily Dickinson, Harry Truman, and others. All are linked to the "I See Dead People" page.
In addition to the whole "labor of love" thing, creating a Legacy Library might be a good side project/assignment for grad students doing in-depth independent studies of certain writers--
2.25.2009
I Remember
I got Teresa Joe Brainard's I Remember for Valentine's Day, and now that she's read it, I am. Reading it for the first time in 2009 (first published in 1970), it strikes me how much it resembles a response to a Facebook meme, or a blog project like The Chatelaine Shops or Spends. The genius of the idea being that it came 30+ years before those kinds of things--and not in response to the anyone!-instant!-publishing of the internet, which makes it seem obvious.
I've been in at least four writing classes in which we were asked to freewrite on the phrase I remember "in the manner of Joe Brainard's I Remember." I'm lousy at freewriting and the exercise has always left me cold. But after reading Brainard for ten minutes or so, I found myself writing "I remember" sentences in my head--and remembering things I'd never remembered when "freewriting" (forcedwriting) on that exercise. I got up to type some out, and here they are, in place of a response to the recent "25 Random Things About Me" meme:
I remember the Rodriguez girls who took piano lessons from our same piano teacher and performed at the same recitals my sister and I did. They wore "Add-a-Bead" necklaces and their parents gave them a new gold bead at every recital.
I remember envying teenagers for getting to walk through doors marked "Employees Only."
I remember living with my girlfriend the winter we were 18 and had little money. I got annoyed that she insisted on buying Jewish rye bread, which cost 30 cents more than plain rye bread.
I remember walking with her from the grocery store to the basement apartment we were living in, a mile away. It began to rain and the paper bags holding the groceries started to dissolve. She took off her coat, even though it was freezing, and used it to carry the groceries.
I remember walking in downtown DC with her later that week and giving a dollar to a panhandler sitting on the pavement (to impress her). It did, and she kissed me, and the panhandler leapt to his feet and yelled "Freaks! Freaks!" after us until we ducked down into a subway station.
I remember cassingles, and owning one of Wilson Phillips's "Hold On."
I remember Popcorn Circus, the store that sold nothing but flavored popcorn (bubble gum, green apple, blue raspberry, cinnamon...) that was the (overpriced) must-have snack for birthday parties when I was in 4th grade.
I remember finding it impossibly sophisticated in 8th grade when a friend ate an apple by cutting off an individual slice with a knife, eating it, cutting off another individual slice, etc. It hadn't occurred to me that it was possible to eat an apple like that. I doubted I could ever "pull it off."
I remember for a long time thinking that "Sumer is icumen in" referred to Sumer/Sumerians, and perhaps icemen (was it a typo?).
I remember being 15 and purchasing Leaves of Grass and a cassette tape of Mozart's Clarinet Concerto from the same store, going home and listening to the concerto while reading the book, feeling intellectual.
I remember listening to 10,000 Maniacs "Verdi Cries" over and over the same year, full of longing for the beach, the bath, the pastries, the jackal-headed woman drawn in the sand, Natalie Merchant, and a classmate I felt sure would "get it" all.
I remember James Swearingen.
I remember going to Hechinger's hardware store with my dad and getting to pick out a paint chip or a washer. I still think washers make great tokens of affection.
I remember Speak n' Spell, and how strange the recorded male voice sounded saying "W"--it sounded slurred and slightly drunk: vuhhvullyou.
I remember liking the theme songs and credits of Saturday morning cartoons more than the shows themselves.
I remember highlighting passages I found "poetic" in my first bible. I was eight, and still have the book.
I remember the first time I saw k.d. lang (in the "Trail of Broken Hearts" video on VH1) and the first time I saw Ya Kid K of Technotronic (in a Saturday Night Live performance). I couldn't tell for certain what their genders were, and was instantly attracted to them.
I remember lots of talk about an alcoholic beverage called "Cisco," that came in flavors like grape and orange and was said to contain liquid crack, but never seeing a bottle of it.
I remember being taken aback when I met my first college roommate, who was overweight, black, a mother of a toddler, and ironed her (light blue) sweatpants. All Sweet Valley visions of "sharing clothes with my roomie" evaporated.
I remember realizing, at around age 23 as a graduate TA, that all of those "What I Did This Summer" essays one wrote at the beginning of a school year were assigned for writing diagnostic purposes as opposed to true interest about one's life on the part of one's teachers. At the same time I realized that "Who Can Be the Quietest?" played in the back seat of the car as a child was not a true competition but a way to get one's children to shut up. [Shock!]
I remember painting the blue veins and red arteries of a Visible Woman.
I remember, in the books of my youth, people (especially mothers) often becoming "cross."
I remember, when the song came out in 8th grade, none of us buying that "You Don't Have to Take Your Clothes Off (To Have a Good Time)."
I remember reading, at 15, that 15 was the average age at which girls in the U.S. lost their virginity, and thinking I really needed to get on it, because the thought of being "average" at anything was repellent enough, let alone the thought of being less or slower than average.
I remember being the first one awake at slumber parties in another kid's house, and how, when you had a glass of milk at home, it tasted like milk, but when you had a glass of milk at someone else's house, it tasted like milk + the glass.
I remember finding marbles (clearies or marbleds, not cat's eyes, which were not aesthetically pleasing) sublimely, almost wisely, beautiful (heaven in a wildflower) and keeping mine in a purple velvet Crown Royal bag. I remember, years later, meeting a woman who kept her sex toys in a purple velvet Crown Royal bag.
I've been in at least four writing classes in which we were asked to freewrite on the phrase I remember "in the manner of Joe Brainard's I Remember." I'm lousy at freewriting and the exercise has always left me cold. But after reading Brainard for ten minutes or so, I found myself writing "I remember" sentences in my head--and remembering things I'd never remembered when "freewriting" (forcedwriting) on that exercise. I got up to type some out, and here they are, in place of a response to the recent "25 Random Things About Me" meme:
I remember the Rodriguez girls who took piano lessons from our same piano teacher and performed at the same recitals my sister and I did. They wore "Add-a-Bead" necklaces and their parents gave them a new gold bead at every recital.
I remember envying teenagers for getting to walk through doors marked "Employees Only."
I remember living with my girlfriend the winter we were 18 and had little money. I got annoyed that she insisted on buying Jewish rye bread, which cost 30 cents more than plain rye bread.
I remember walking with her from the grocery store to the basement apartment we were living in, a mile away. It began to rain and the paper bags holding the groceries started to dissolve. She took off her coat, even though it was freezing, and used it to carry the groceries.
I remember walking in downtown DC with her later that week and giving a dollar to a panhandler sitting on the pavement (to impress her). It did, and she kissed me, and the panhandler leapt to his feet and yelled "Freaks! Freaks!" after us until we ducked down into a subway station.
I remember cassingles, and owning one of Wilson Phillips's "Hold On."
I remember Popcorn Circus, the store that sold nothing but flavored popcorn (bubble gum, green apple, blue raspberry, cinnamon...) that was the (overpriced) must-have snack for birthday parties when I was in 4th grade.
I remember finding it impossibly sophisticated in 8th grade when a friend ate an apple by cutting off an individual slice with a knife, eating it, cutting off another individual slice, etc. It hadn't occurred to me that it was possible to eat an apple like that. I doubted I could ever "pull it off."
I remember for a long time thinking that "Sumer is icumen in" referred to Sumer/Sumerians, and perhaps icemen (was it a typo?).
I remember being 15 and purchasing Leaves of Grass and a cassette tape of Mozart's Clarinet Concerto from the same store, going home and listening to the concerto while reading the book, feeling intellectual.
I remember listening to 10,000 Maniacs "Verdi Cries" over and over the same year, full of longing for the beach, the bath, the pastries, the jackal-headed woman drawn in the sand, Natalie Merchant, and a classmate I felt sure would "get it" all.
I remember James Swearingen.
I remember going to Hechinger's hardware store with my dad and getting to pick out a paint chip or a washer. I still think washers make great tokens of affection.
I remember Speak n' Spell, and how strange the recorded male voice sounded saying "W"--it sounded slurred and slightly drunk: vuhhvullyou.
I remember liking the theme songs and credits of Saturday morning cartoons more than the shows themselves.
I remember highlighting passages I found "poetic" in my first bible. I was eight, and still have the book.
I remember the first time I saw k.d. lang (in the "Trail of Broken Hearts" video on VH1) and the first time I saw Ya Kid K of Technotronic (in a Saturday Night Live performance). I couldn't tell for certain what their genders were, and was instantly attracted to them.
I remember lots of talk about an alcoholic beverage called "Cisco," that came in flavors like grape and orange and was said to contain liquid crack, but never seeing a bottle of it.
I remember being taken aback when I met my first college roommate, who was overweight, black, a mother of a toddler, and ironed her (light blue) sweatpants. All Sweet Valley visions of "sharing clothes with my roomie" evaporated.
I remember realizing, at around age 23 as a graduate TA, that all of those "What I Did This Summer" essays one wrote at the beginning of a school year were assigned for writing diagnostic purposes as opposed to true interest about one's life on the part of one's teachers. At the same time I realized that "Who Can Be the Quietest?" played in the back seat of the car as a child was not a true competition but a way to get one's children to shut up. [Shock!]
I remember painting the blue veins and red arteries of a Visible Woman.
I remember, in the books of my youth, people (especially mothers) often becoming "cross."
I remember, when the song came out in 8th grade, none of us buying that "You Don't Have to Take Your Clothes Off (To Have a Good Time)."
I remember reading, at 15, that 15 was the average age at which girls in the U.S. lost their virginity, and thinking I really needed to get on it, because the thought of being "average" at anything was repellent enough, let alone the thought of being less or slower than average.
I remember being the first one awake at slumber parties in another kid's house, and how, when you had a glass of milk at home, it tasted like milk, but when you had a glass of milk at someone else's house, it tasted like milk + the glass.
I remember finding marbles (clearies or marbleds, not cat's eyes, which were not aesthetically pleasing) sublimely, almost wisely, beautiful (heaven in a wildflower) and keeping mine in a purple velvet Crown Royal bag. I remember, years later, meeting a woman who kept her sex toys in a purple velvet Crown Royal bag.
2.24.2009
Poetic Cross-Dressing Contest at WhimsyLand
Jeffery Bahr is holding a "Poetic Cross-Dressing Contest" (details here) which requires one to rewrite one well-known poet's well-known poem in the style of a second well-known poet. It looks like he's run a similar contest three times in the past, and he links to examples and past winners here, here, and here.
I love the premise and wish my brain felt fresh enough these days to do it serious justice. If yours does, the deadline is 3/6/09 and the prize is fantastic: "The winner will receive 4 one-year subscriptions to literary journals of his or her choice. The runner-up will receive 2 one-year subscriptions to literary journals of his or her choice."
Here's an entry from a previous year, by David Wright. Many are longer and deeper, but this one made me smile:
We Real Prufrock
We real depressed. We
get dressed. We
don’t talk. We
just walk. We
don’t giggle. We
pin and wriggle. We
measure spoons. We
drown soon.
I love the premise and wish my brain felt fresh enough these days to do it serious justice. If yours does, the deadline is 3/6/09 and the prize is fantastic: "The winner will receive 4 one-year subscriptions to literary journals of his or her choice. The runner-up will receive 2 one-year subscriptions to literary journals of his or her choice."
Here's an entry from a previous year, by David Wright. Many are longer and deeper, but this one made me smile:
We Real Prufrock
We real depressed. We
get dressed. We
don’t talk. We
just walk. We
don’t giggle. We
pin and wriggle. We
measure spoons. We
drown soon.
2.21.2009
Carmina Burana: Alternate Lyrics by YTMND
Spotted this at Home of the Immoral Minority this morning. I'd seen it mentioned before, but never bothered to click through and view until seeing it on Julia's blog, which proves me freakishly more susceptible to the internet theory that "people want to see what people they know have recommended" than I'd have guessed. Give it 30 seconds--by "hot temperate cheese" I was giggling uncontrollably.
2.20.2009
Security questions for forgotten email passwords were in the news a lot last fall, when Sarah Palin's account was easily hacked by someone who'd done a little basic research ("What is your mother's maiden name? What was the name of your high school?"). Joel Gunz offers some alternative questions over at McSweeney's:
SECURE WEBSITE AUTHENTIFICATION QUESTIONS:
What is your older sister's favorite Monopoly game piece?
Where were you sitting when your girlfriend told you she was pregnant?
Where did you never end up going for your honeymoon?
In what year did you begin working on your novel?
What time was it when, in a drunken rage, you threw your novel into the fire?
(see rest of list here)
SECURE WEBSITE AUTHENTIFICATION QUESTIONS:
What is your older sister's favorite Monopoly game piece?
Where were you sitting when your girlfriend told you she was pregnant?
Where did you never end up going for your honeymoon?
In what year did you begin working on your novel?
What time was it when, in a drunken rage, you threw your novel into the fire?
(see rest of list here)
2.18.2009
Benign Girl
Weeding my Bloglines acct--I've had this image saved in there since 9/07:
From BoingBoing reader Matt: "Over the Labor Day weekend, we went to Di Fara's Pizza for the best slice in New York City (probably the world). Well, you have to wait while each slice is hand-made to order, so I took my 14 month-old daughter to the 99 cent store next door to touch things for the duration. On our way out of the store, we saw this gem: the 'Benign Girl' Super Telephone. Chinese marketing at its best. How could there be any lead in a Benign Girl toy?"
From BoingBoing reader Matt: "Over the Labor Day weekend, we went to Di Fara's Pizza for the best slice in New York City (probably the world). Well, you have to wait while each slice is hand-made to order, so I took my 14 month-old daughter to the 99 cent store next door to touch things for the duration. On our way out of the store, we saw this gem: the 'Benign Girl' Super Telephone. Chinese marketing at its best. How could there be any lead in a Benign Girl toy?"
2.14.2009
From Jeni Olin's "25 Things" on Facebook:
i hate sunny days but fake an optimism about them with new boyfriends. i genuinely feel the rain comes to break the heat of the heart & that is its dazzling purpose.
I hate rainy days and there isn't a day I don't crave a sunny one. But check out that line: "rain comes to break the heat of the heart." What rhythm and lift from a line of single-syllable words.
i hate sunny days but fake an optimism about them with new boyfriends. i genuinely feel the rain comes to break the heat of the heart & that is its dazzling purpose.
I hate rainy days and there isn't a day I don't crave a sunny one. But check out that line: "rain comes to break the heat of the heart." What rhythm and lift from a line of single-syllable words.
1.31.2009
"What's the difference between a metaphor...and a lie?"
Elizabeth Alexander on The Colbert Report--this has been around for at least a week, but I just saw it this morning, and if you missed it, it's worth a view. Alexander does a good job of handling Colbert (imho, a much better job than she did writing the inaugural poem), and Colbert on Prufrock is pretty priceless:
1.20.2009
Halloween, Oberlin, 1992
Joys of Facebook: if for some reason you have lost a photo of yourself in the early 90s, someone else is sure to have and post it. I'm on the floor in the black hat, going as Roxy, Catherine Tremell's murderous lesbian lover in Basic Instinct.
1.13.2009
"The States are full of mush and pie"
I've been enjoying A is for Archive: 100 Years of Alphabet Books at the Internet Archive. Most of the books can be quickly loaded and flipped through. "The States are full of mush and pie" is only one of many promising lines from T.W.H. Crosland's 1901 Little People: An Alphabet.
1899's An Alphabet of Celebrities by Oliver Herford is also worth a spin. Sample pages:
1905's An Alphabet of History includes both nonfictional and fictional characters, apparently without drawing a line between them. I is for Iago, which is rhymed with "Chicago." Caesar, for the rhyme, is a "frosty geezer." E's Euripides is also called, for the meter, "Rippy." X is for Xantippe (or "Xanty"), Socrates's wife, portrayed with a husband-clobbering rolling pin:
Another book's X is for "Xerxes," and another's for "Xanthus." O, the plight of the alphabet book author before the invention of the X-ray!
1.11.2009
No One Wants to Play Sega with Harrison Ford (click for large view), by Brandon Bird, via my cousin Daniel's blog, lloydsoldout.
You might also enjoy Bird's Mr. Noodle, Signifier and Signified, Lazy Sunday Afternoon, etc.
1.08.2009
1.07.2009
Kottke posted a link today to the opening credits from "3-2-1 Contact":
It surprised me how many of the images I remembered intensely: the baby with the weird tongue, the frog, the trampoline from below, the girl whispering a secret.
The video naturally pointed to a bit from "The Bloodhound Gang," my favorite "3-2-1 Contact" sketch:
and this led me to "The Great Space Coaster" credits:
and "Simon in the Land of Chalk Drawings":
and the theme from Bill Cosby's "Picture Pages":
I wonder how many papers are being written out there about how YouTube is changing our experience of nostalgia. Everything is accessible (on the lucky side of the digital divide). Like the shift from having to see works of art in person to being able to see reproductions in books, the shift from having to have been alive & glued to the set in a certain era to see TV bits to being able to see them online. (Did I mention here that the other day I saw a high school girl at the library with a giant sketchbook, sketching a work of art on her computer screen as if she were an art student sketching in a museum?)
I wonder what a mid-21st century "Persistence of Memory" might look like.
It surprised me how many of the images I remembered intensely: the baby with the weird tongue, the frog, the trampoline from below, the girl whispering a secret.
The video naturally pointed to a bit from "The Bloodhound Gang," my favorite "3-2-1 Contact" sketch:
and this led me to "The Great Space Coaster" credits:
and "Simon in the Land of Chalk Drawings":
and the theme from Bill Cosby's "Picture Pages":
I wonder how many papers are being written out there about how YouTube is changing our experience of nostalgia. Everything is accessible (on the lucky side of the digital divide). Like the shift from having to see works of art in person to being able to see reproductions in books, the shift from having to have been alive & glued to the set in a certain era to see TV bits to being able to see them online. (Did I mention here that the other day I saw a high school girl at the library with a giant sketchbook, sketching a work of art on her computer screen as if she were an art student sketching in a museum?)
I wonder what a mid-21st century "Persistence of Memory" might look like.
...and blow.
Had this scene from To Have and Have Not in my head this morning. This was Bacall's first movie; she was 19, and Bogart was 44 and already a huge star. She writes that she was shaking in her boots when she filmed it. I love how unexpected she was. I imagine the moment in the theatre when it first played as similar to the moment in the theatre when Garbo spoke her first out-loud lines in that low, low voice in Anna Christie.
Best Thought, Worst Thought
Best Thought, Worst Thought (Graywolf Press) is a new book of aphorisms & observations by Scottish poet Don Paterson. Teresa picked it up for me at a recent book festival, judging correctly by the title and look of it that it would be something I'd gravitate to. I liked--didn't love--it, and as I read I jotted down the entries I thought I'd want to return to later:
*[from the foreword]: On the morning the Barbarians wandered through the gates, everyone in Rome had their feet up and was reading a foreword.
*The aphorism will often contain one italicized word; this denotes its magnetic North, not its direction.
*No matter how beautiful it is, if it appears in the wrong month, kill it.
*When I first learned that Bach preceded Mozart I was completely incredulous. All but the most naive among us accept that literature doesn't progress, but we've always held out higher hopes for music, as if the species might somehow hitch a ride on it.
*Like every other literary critic, Bloom credits the writer with far too much interest in literature.
*Sympathetic proof of hylozoism: imagine a stone lying on a beach, undisturbed for fifty years; impossible to think that, walking by, we could pick it up and throw it into the sea, and that it could feel nothing...
*Our names should be lengthened a little after our demise, by the lovely matronymic of death...we'd then appear in the conversation of our friends and enemies with our signature cadence gently altered, discreetly informing strangers of our change of status.
*No sense steps into the same word twice.
Poetry Daily posted Paterson's full foreword to the book as a special prose feature a while back. In it, Paterson shares his thoughts on the form and on a number of other aphorists, including Nietzsche, author of my favorite aphorism--not for the sentiment, but for the image: "In a man devoted to knowledge, pity seems almost ridiculous, like delicate hands on a cyclops."
*[from the foreword]: On the morning the Barbarians wandered through the gates, everyone in Rome had their feet up and was reading a foreword.
*The aphorism will often contain one italicized word; this denotes its magnetic North, not its direction.
*No matter how beautiful it is, if it appears in the wrong month, kill it.
*When I first learned that Bach preceded Mozart I was completely incredulous. All but the most naive among us accept that literature doesn't progress, but we've always held out higher hopes for music, as if the species might somehow hitch a ride on it.
*Like every other literary critic, Bloom credits the writer with far too much interest in literature.
*Sympathetic proof of hylozoism: imagine a stone lying on a beach, undisturbed for fifty years; impossible to think that, walking by, we could pick it up and throw it into the sea, and that it could feel nothing...
*Our names should be lengthened a little after our demise, by the lovely matronymic of death...we'd then appear in the conversation of our friends and enemies with our signature cadence gently altered, discreetly informing strangers of our change of status.
*No sense steps into the same word twice.
Poetry Daily posted Paterson's full foreword to the book as a special prose feature a while back. In it, Paterson shares his thoughts on the form and on a number of other aphorists, including Nietzsche, author of my favorite aphorism--not for the sentiment, but for the image: "In a man devoted to knowledge, pity seems almost ridiculous, like delicate hands on a cyclops."
12.27.2008
Photo: Jose Hernandez / National Geographic Magazine
Hernandez: "This is a shot of three eagles fighting over a fish in Homer, Alaska, from March 2008. You can see the fish at the top of the image flying by itself, but it was caught in its fall by another eagle."
This photo won an honorable mention in the "Nature" category in National Geographic's 2008 International Photography Contest (click to see winners in various categories).
Fimoculous: 2008 End-of-Year Lists
Fimoculous gathers links to 2008's end-of-year lists on one page. There are ninety book lists so far, along with lists on everything from advertising to words. I like Tampa Bay Online's 50 Things We Know Now (That We Didn't Know This Time Last Year), which includes links to the stories behind them for more information.
Why reenact wars when you can reenact Far Side cartoons?
by entitee, from the Far Side Reenactment Pool on Flickr. Setting up a shot to contribute might be a fun way to spend a few hours.
12.07.2008
Toothpaste for Dinner
I was sick and seeing double most of the weekend--too dizzy to read or watch a movie. The upside was digging around in the Toothpaste for Dinner archives as an alternative to more strenuous visual pursuits. Some favorites so far:
12.05.2008
Apostrophe's! Extra apostrophe's! Use 'em for plural's!
There are so many wonderful t-shirt's on the internet that I never buy any, fearing an uncontrollable downward spiral. This, though--this could break the seal:
T-shirt $16 at Sharing Machine (choose "Toothpaste for Dinner" for merch related to the webcomic).
T-shirt $16 at Sharing Machine (choose "Toothpaste for Dinner" for merch related to the webcomic).
From The Guardian, "Body swap research shows that self is a trick of the mind":
"Brain scientists have succeeded in fooling people into thinking they are inside the body of another person or a plastic dummy.
The out-of-body experience - which is surprisingly easy to induce - will help researchers to understand how the human brain constructs a sense of physical self. The research may also lead to practical applications such as more intuitive remote control of robots, treatments for phantom limb pain in amputee patients and possible treatments for anorexia." (read rest of article)
--
I went to Oberlin College, but am ashamed to say I never thought to check out the Oberlin Public Library. I see now that this was a mistake:
"OBERLIN, Ohio, Dec. 4 (UPI) -- A public library in Oberlin, Ohio, has a holiday display that features a legless Santa Claus being pushed down the stairs by a sadistic Christmas tree.
Conceptual artist Keith McGuckin, who created the Oberlin Public Library display, created a narrative to accompany the image that explains Santa's legs were destroyed by an alcohol-fueled incident involving power lines, and the tree pushing St. Nick's wheelchair down a flight of stairs plans to visit a strip club with the money he took from Santa's Salvation Army kettle, The Chronicle-Telegram (Elyria, Ohio) reported Thursday." (read rest of article, which includes mention of previous Oberlin library displays by McGuckin, including ones with "Nazi gingerbread men and drug-smuggling elves.")
UPDATE: Library director decided to take display down, said it was "becoming too much of a distraction."
"Brain scientists have succeeded in fooling people into thinking they are inside the body of another person or a plastic dummy.
The out-of-body experience - which is surprisingly easy to induce - will help researchers to understand how the human brain constructs a sense of physical self. The research may also lead to practical applications such as more intuitive remote control of robots, treatments for phantom limb pain in amputee patients and possible treatments for anorexia." (read rest of article)
--
I went to Oberlin College, but am ashamed to say I never thought to check out the Oberlin Public Library. I see now that this was a mistake:
"OBERLIN, Ohio, Dec. 4 (UPI) -- A public library in Oberlin, Ohio, has a holiday display that features a legless Santa Claus being pushed down the stairs by a sadistic Christmas tree.
Conceptual artist Keith McGuckin, who created the Oberlin Public Library display, created a narrative to accompany the image that explains Santa's legs were destroyed by an alcohol-fueled incident involving power lines, and the tree pushing St. Nick's wheelchair down a flight of stairs plans to visit a strip club with the money he took from Santa's Salvation Army kettle, The Chronicle-Telegram (Elyria, Ohio) reported Thursday." (read rest of article, which includes mention of previous Oberlin library displays by McGuckin, including ones with "Nazi gingerbread men and drug-smuggling elves.")
UPDATE: Library director decided to take display down, said it was "becoming too much of a distraction."
11.28.2008
Matthea Harvey's excellent Modern Life appears on the NY Times 100 Notable Books of 2008 list. Aravind Adiga's Booker-winning The White Tiger, which I thoroughly enjoyed (but, hey, I still count American Psycho among my favorites), does not. Interesting to note that poetry books appear in the list's fiction section--not in nonfiction, where Dewey puts them.
11.20.2008
Sabupuraimu, "Morning Banana," and more--
The Top 60 Japanese Words and Phrases of 2008, brought to you by publishing company Jiyu Kokuminsha and translated by the folks at Pink Tentacle.
"Invisible and Overlooked": Gay Seniors in Newsweek
I missed this 9/18/08 Newsweek article, ‘Invisible And Overlooked’: A growing population of lesbian and gay senior citizens seeks recognition for their unique needs and challenges. It's a worthwhile short read. I've often been frustrated that, while my library does pretty well by GLBT teens--has a decent selection of books there--once a GLBT patron turns 18, we have near-zilch. Those who focus on service to seniors in public libraries should consider their GLBT seniors, too. Sexual orientation: it ain't just for kids.
Some excerpts from the article:
Gerontologists haven't traditionally viewed sexual orientation as relevant to their work—and, according to a study by the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, most national health surveys of elderly citizens fail to assess sexual orientation. But gay seniors confront unique challenges: they're twice as likely as straights to live alone, and 10 times less likely to have a caretaker should they fall ill...Many face discrimination in medical and social services, and on top of it all, they're less likely to have health insurance: one survey, by the Williams Institute on Sexual Orientation Law, at UCLA, estimates that gay seniors are half as likely to have coverage as their straight counterparts...
...Over the next 25 years, persons in America who are 65 and older are expected to grow from about 12 to 20 percent of the total population, and various estimates indicate that lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered individuals will comprise 7 to 10 percent of that senior population...
...For those who can afford it, there are gay-specific retirement communities and free service centers dotted around the nation, mostly in urban areas. But most regular nursing homes give shared-room preference to their married clients, and only a few states require employers to give leave for employees caring for same-sex partners. Inside care centers, advocates tell stories of social workers using gloves to treat only their gay patients, or those patients being shuffled around from room to room to avoid harassment from other residents. In rare cases, social workers say that couples have gone to the extent of agreeing not to visit each other, for fear the staff will treat them differently. And many patients revert back into the closet to protect themselves...
...Financial and estate-planning matters can complicate things further. In most cases, gay survivors don't have rights to a partner's pension plans, and are taxed on 401(k)s and IRAs they might inherit. Same-sex couples must also pay federal estate taxes on jointly owned homes where married couples don't. Sometimes they even have to fight with blood relatives over how to dispose of a partner's remains. To approximate some of the protections of marriage, many gay couples have to set up extra legal frameworks, such as powers or attorney and joint tenancy agreements. "Senior citizens have enough of a challenge just figuring out all the paperwork for health insurance—but gays and lesbians have this added layer," says attorney David Buckel, the director of the Marriage Project at the Lambda Legal Defense and Education Fund, a civil rights group. "It can be overwhelming."
Sidenote: Heh heh. In the article, Michael Adams, executive director of SAGE (Services and Advocacy for GLBT Elders), is quoting as having said "not one emoticon of respect." Think he might actually have said "modicum"?
Some excerpts from the article:
Gerontologists haven't traditionally viewed sexual orientation as relevant to their work—and, according to a study by the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, most national health surveys of elderly citizens fail to assess sexual orientation. But gay seniors confront unique challenges: they're twice as likely as straights to live alone, and 10 times less likely to have a caretaker should they fall ill...Many face discrimination in medical and social services, and on top of it all, they're less likely to have health insurance: one survey, by the Williams Institute on Sexual Orientation Law, at UCLA, estimates that gay seniors are half as likely to have coverage as their straight counterparts...
...Over the next 25 years, persons in America who are 65 and older are expected to grow from about 12 to 20 percent of the total population, and various estimates indicate that lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered individuals will comprise 7 to 10 percent of that senior population...
...For those who can afford it, there are gay-specific retirement communities and free service centers dotted around the nation, mostly in urban areas. But most regular nursing homes give shared-room preference to their married clients, and only a few states require employers to give leave for employees caring for same-sex partners. Inside care centers, advocates tell stories of social workers using gloves to treat only their gay patients, or those patients being shuffled around from room to room to avoid harassment from other residents. In rare cases, social workers say that couples have gone to the extent of agreeing not to visit each other, for fear the staff will treat them differently. And many patients revert back into the closet to protect themselves...
...Financial and estate-planning matters can complicate things further. In most cases, gay survivors don't have rights to a partner's pension plans, and are taxed on 401(k)s and IRAs they might inherit. Same-sex couples must also pay federal estate taxes on jointly owned homes where married couples don't. Sometimes they even have to fight with blood relatives over how to dispose of a partner's remains. To approximate some of the protections of marriage, many gay couples have to set up extra legal frameworks, such as powers or attorney and joint tenancy agreements. "Senior citizens have enough of a challenge just figuring out all the paperwork for health insurance—but gays and lesbians have this added layer," says attorney David Buckel, the director of the Marriage Project at the Lambda Legal Defense and Education Fund, a civil rights group. "It can be overwhelming."
Sidenote: Heh heh. In the article, Michael Adams, executive director of SAGE (Services and Advocacy for GLBT Elders), is quoting as having said "not one emoticon of respect." Think he might actually have said "modicum"?
11.19.2008
1 minute, 4 seconds in London, 1904
Via Folderol, one minute and four seconds in London, 1904. I love the kid camping it up on the bridge. Metafilter says: Birkbeck College professor Ian Christie rediscovered this footage in an archive in Canberra, shot for a travelogue by film pioneer Charles Urban.
New Anxiety Medications for Coping With Economic Gloom
--a McSweeney's list by Peter Scallion. These look about as good as ice cream flavors right now:
Debtrol
Downcyclen
Subprimacare
Lehmanax
Delinquedent
Panix
Nojoblin
Greedquil
Feariflu
Defaulta
Forclosen
Banxergon
Nuvopor
Catastrophex
Hysterian
Maxedoutrin
Stoxadon
Colapsin
Dowoff
Scamagan
Defeatra
Corruptol
Retirelator
Debtrol
Downcyclen
Subprimacare
Lehmanax
Delinquedent
Panix
Nojoblin
Greedquil
Feariflu
Defaulta
Forclosen
Banxergon
Nuvopor
Catastrophex
Hysterian
Maxedoutrin
Stoxadon
Colapsin
Dowoff
Scamagan
Defeatra
Corruptol
Retirelator
Toys, Games, Puzzles: Poems?
I like a call for submissions that makes me want to write poems.
It's Jessy Randall that's calling:
I am guest-editing the February 2009 issue of the online poetry magazine Snakeskin. The theme of this issue is ... TOYS, GAMES, AND PUZZLES. Send up to six poems. No previously-published poems. No simultaneous submissions. No attachments -- poems should be in the body of the email. The deadline is December 15. My email address is jessyrandall [at] yahoo [dot] com. I look forward to reading your work!
...and a toy poem I [EL, not JR, though she might, too] admire:
Chatty Cathy Villanelle
by David Trinidad
When you grow up, what will you do?
Please come to my tea party.
I'm Chatty Cathy. Who are you?
Let's take a trip to the zoo.
Tee-hee, tee-hee, tee-hee. You're silly!
When you grow up, what will you do?
One plus one equals two.
It's fun to learn your ABC's.
I'm Chatty Cathy. Who are you?
Please help me tie my shoe.
Can you come out and play with me?
When you grow up, what will you do?
The rooster says cock-a-doodle-doo.
Please read me a bedtime story.
I'm Chatty Cathy. Who are you?
Our flag is red, white and blue.
Let's makebelieve you're Mommy.
When you grow up, what will you do?
I'm Chatty Cathy. Who are you?
It's Jessy Randall that's calling:
I am guest-editing the February 2009 issue of the online poetry magazine Snakeskin. The theme of this issue is ... TOYS, GAMES, AND PUZZLES. Send up to six poems. No previously-published poems. No simultaneous submissions. No attachments -- poems should be in the body of the email. The deadline is December 15. My email address is jessyrandall [at] yahoo [dot] com. I look forward to reading your work!
...and a toy poem I [EL, not JR, though she might, too] admire:
Chatty Cathy Villanelle
by David Trinidad
When you grow up, what will you do?
Please come to my tea party.
I'm Chatty Cathy. Who are you?
Let's take a trip to the zoo.
Tee-hee, tee-hee, tee-hee. You're silly!
When you grow up, what will you do?
One plus one equals two.
It's fun to learn your ABC's.
I'm Chatty Cathy. Who are you?
Please help me tie my shoe.
Can you come out and play with me?
When you grow up, what will you do?
The rooster says cock-a-doodle-doo.
Please read me a bedtime story.
I'm Chatty Cathy. Who are you?
Our flag is red, white and blue.
Let's makebelieve you're Mommy.
When you grow up, what will you do?
I'm Chatty Cathy. Who are you?
11.17.2008
Madnight: new album from RIAA
RIAA, the mashup geniuses that brought you Sounds for the Space-Set, have a new (fully free and downloadable) album out called Madnight. Their own description:
Inspirations: dreams, nightmares, Los Angeles noir film and literature, "Lowbrow" and Surreal art, carnivals and sideshows, 78 rpm records, weird old black and white movies, autumnal weather.
Sources listed include Kate Bush, some dialogue from an Ed Wood film, Tom Waits, Jelly Roll Morton, Young MC, Sal Mineo, "Jesus Wants Me For a Sunbeam," audio from "Children's Fairyland amusement park," a school filmstrip called "Who's Afraid?", Suzanne Vega, Alan Ladd, and many others.
You can listen to or download most of RIAA's albums here.
Inspirations: dreams, nightmares, Los Angeles noir film and literature, "Lowbrow" and Surreal art, carnivals and sideshows, 78 rpm records, weird old black and white movies, autumnal weather.
Sources listed include Kate Bush, some dialogue from an Ed Wood film, Tom Waits, Jelly Roll Morton, Young MC, Sal Mineo, "Jesus Wants Me For a Sunbeam," audio from "Children's Fairyland amusement park," a school filmstrip called "Who's Afraid?", Suzanne Vega, Alan Ladd, and many others.
You can listen to or download most of RIAA's albums here.
11.08.2008
Exvotos and Retablos Mexicanos blog
I recently found and subscribed to La Gracia de Dar Las Gracias, a blog by Selva Prieto that posts "exvotos y retablos mexicanos y algo mas." Prieto reproduces the text under many of the image scans. I love looking at exvotos (or ex-votos), which I realize means they're probably already listed on the "Stuff White People Like" blog (okay, I just checked. They aren't, yet). Some examples from the blog, with a mish-mash of Google's translation and mine underneath:
My daughter was born with a rare disease that prevents her from receiving the sun's rays, so I had to organize a night life for us. The idea was difficult for me, but, thanks to the Virgin of San Juan, we have gotten used to a paradise of moonlight. Instead of dogs we have cats and canaries. I believe that when the time comes, my daughter will find a sensitive man who does not mind living at night.
Bats invaded Carlota Valdez's house and flew over her bed at nights and they filled her with nightmares and their dreams. She feared they could be vampires and would suck her and her cats' blood and they would be converted into the living dead for all Eternity. Very worried, Carlota prayed to Saint Quiteria for protection. The saint worked a miracle for her, the bats left to live somewhere else, and Carlota gives thanks with this altarpiece.
I was quick to anger and to shout and argue. This affected my husband and therefore my marriage was being threatened. I thank the Virgencita of Zapopan, who gave me the idea of channeling my anger into a pair of knitting needles. Now when I feel that I'm getting angry, I run and grab the fabric and start knitting furiously. I have already knitted sweaters and scarves for the whole family and for cats and dogs, and I am still knitting and weaving. Thanks to this, now I can be sweet with my husband and my family almost always.
Also of interest: Everyday Miracles: Medical Imagery in Ex-Votos
(a 9/08-1/09 exhibit at the National Library of Medicine)
My daughter was born with a rare disease that prevents her from receiving the sun's rays, so I had to organize a night life for us. The idea was difficult for me, but, thanks to the Virgin of San Juan, we have gotten used to a paradise of moonlight. Instead of dogs we have cats and canaries. I believe that when the time comes, my daughter will find a sensitive man who does not mind living at night.
Bats invaded Carlota Valdez's house and flew over her bed at nights and they filled her with nightmares and their dreams. She feared they could be vampires and would suck her and her cats' blood and they would be converted into the living dead for all Eternity. Very worried, Carlota prayed to Saint Quiteria for protection. The saint worked a miracle for her, the bats left to live somewhere else, and Carlota gives thanks with this altarpiece.
I was quick to anger and to shout and argue. This affected my husband and therefore my marriage was being threatened. I thank the Virgencita of Zapopan, who gave me the idea of channeling my anger into a pair of knitting needles. Now when I feel that I'm getting angry, I run and grab the fabric and start knitting furiously. I have already knitted sweaters and scarves for the whole family and for cats and dogs, and I am still knitting and weaving. Thanks to this, now I can be sweet with my husband and my family almost always.
Also of interest: Everyday Miracles: Medical Imagery in Ex-Votos
(a 9/08-1/09 exhibit at the National Library of Medicine)
11.06.2008
"The Whole World Was Watching"--K.G. Schneider
Karen Schneider of Free Range Librarian was in Australia on the night of the US election. Here's her blog post on watching Obama's acceptance speech in a Sydney pub:
Don’t get me wrong, when it became obvious Obama was winning big, it was fun to be at the Democrats Abroad party at the Slide Nightclub in Darlinghurst, Sydney, waving my pint and shouting as the results came in. It was all the sweeter because it was clear this was no ordinary victory. To borrow an expression, “we beat them like rented mules.”
But the full significance of this election to the world at large swept over me an hour later, in an ordinary pub where a woman with a chihuahua snuggled in her arms sat outside sunning herself, men in the back played video games, and workmen struggled to install one more table near the door.
Lizanne and I had thought it was too early for McCain to concede, and were sprawled on a couch talking about the events of the day, when a screen-scroll announced that regular programming was preempted.
As Obama strode onto the stage, we stood up. This was for practical reasons — we couldn’t see the screen from where we sat — and yet it somehow felt right for other reasons. We were honoring something much larger than a new president.
The workmen put down their tools.
The bartender stopped wiping glasses.
The woman with the chihuahua walked in and stood with us.
The men in the back left their video games and came forward.
People drifted in off the street and stood quietly, eyes fixed on the screen.
No one sat. Everyone stood for Obama.
As Obama spoke, the pub was pregnant with respectful silence. I wanted to take a picture but my hands were wet from wiping away tears.
Obama finished his speech; then everyone in the pub--all but two of us Australians--cheered and applauded.
Life picked up where it left off. The television resumed its mindless daytime chatter, and soon the workmen were making a tremendous racket. The video-game players wandered to fresher territory. The woman with the chihuahua reestablished her post at the prime outdoor spot in front of the pub, her nervous little dog still tucked in her arms. Everyone else either got a beer and sat down, or stepped back into the sunshine of a Sydney spring day to resume their quotidian tasks.
But I felt, at long last, no longer an American with an asterisk, apologizing for a government at odds with the world.
Don’t get me wrong, when it became obvious Obama was winning big, it was fun to be at the Democrats Abroad party at the Slide Nightclub in Darlinghurst, Sydney, waving my pint and shouting as the results came in. It was all the sweeter because it was clear this was no ordinary victory. To borrow an expression, “we beat them like rented mules.”
But the full significance of this election to the world at large swept over me an hour later, in an ordinary pub where a woman with a chihuahua snuggled in her arms sat outside sunning herself, men in the back played video games, and workmen struggled to install one more table near the door.
Lizanne and I had thought it was too early for McCain to concede, and were sprawled on a couch talking about the events of the day, when a screen-scroll announced that regular programming was preempted.
As Obama strode onto the stage, we stood up. This was for practical reasons — we couldn’t see the screen from where we sat — and yet it somehow felt right for other reasons. We were honoring something much larger than a new president.
The workmen put down their tools.
The bartender stopped wiping glasses.
The woman with the chihuahua walked in and stood with us.
The men in the back left their video games and came forward.
People drifted in off the street and stood quietly, eyes fixed on the screen.
No one sat. Everyone stood for Obama.
As Obama spoke, the pub was pregnant with respectful silence. I wanted to take a picture but my hands were wet from wiping away tears.
Obama finished his speech; then everyone in the pub--all but two of us Australians--cheered and applauded.
Life picked up where it left off. The television resumed its mindless daytime chatter, and soon the workmen were making a tremendous racket. The video-game players wandered to fresher territory. The woman with the chihuahua reestablished her post at the prime outdoor spot in front of the pub, her nervous little dog still tucked in her arms. Everyone else either got a beer and sat down, or stepped back into the sunshine of a Sydney spring day to resume their quotidian tasks.
But I felt, at long last, no longer an American with an asterisk, apologizing for a government at odds with the world.
11.05.2008
Changes to Dewey Decimal System
This was good to see, at 025.431: The Dewey Blog:
973.93 2001–
973.931 Administration of George W. Bush, 2001–2009
973.932 Administration of Barack Obama, 2009–
973.93 2001–
973.931 Administration of George W. Bush, 2001–2009
973.932 Administration of Barack Obama, 2009–
10.31.2008
From William Carlos Williams Is a Really Bad Roommate by Mollie Wells for Yankee Pot Roast ("The Journal of Literary Satire, Hastilly Written & Slopilly Edited")
This Is Just to Say
I have eaten
the soy ice cream
that was in
the ice box
and which
you expressly asked
me
not to touch
Forgive me
it was so gross
I threw half of
it away
This Is Just to Say
I have clogged
the sink
that is in
the kitchen
and which
you requested
I not use
to rinse my silkscreens
Forgive me
my band needed merch
and Bill’s wife
wouldn’t let us do it there
This Is Just to Say
I have restarted
the PlayStation
that was in
your room
and which
you left on
because you
hadn’t found a save point
Forgive me
I skipped my job interview
and wanted
to play FIFA
This Is Just to Say
I have given away
the key
that was under
the planter
and which
you said
my girlfriend
couldn’t have
Forgive me
her sister kicked her out
but she’s quiet
I swear
This Is Just to Say
I have eaten
the soy ice cream
that was in
the ice box
and which
you expressly asked
me
not to touch
Forgive me
it was so gross
I threw half of
it away
This Is Just to Say
I have clogged
the sink
that is in
the kitchen
and which
you requested
I not use
to rinse my silkscreens
Forgive me
my band needed merch
and Bill’s wife
wouldn’t let us do it there
This Is Just to Say
I have restarted
the PlayStation
that was in
your room
and which
you left on
because you
hadn’t found a save point
Forgive me
I skipped my job interview
and wanted
to play FIFA
This Is Just to Say
I have given away
the key
that was under
the planter
and which
you said
my girlfriend
couldn’t have
Forgive me
her sister kicked her out
but she’s quiet
I swear
10.23.2008
"Voodoo Macbeth" on YouTube
The Observer has posted a list of the[ir] 50 Greatest Arts Videos on YouTube, among them Zora Neale Hurston singing "Uncle Bud" in 1939 (click to view; embedding option disabled for these videos), Madonna's first stage performance as a recording artist, and Marlon Brando's screen test for Rebel Without A Cause. Many of the post's commenters add links to their own favorite arts videos.
I know I sound like a naif, but YouTube still blows me away. I never could have imagined I'd get to see a scene from the 20th century theatre event I most wish I'd witnessed: the 20-yr-old Orson Welles's all-black "Voodoo Macbeth" from 1936 (not on The Observer's list, but on mine). Scene begins after newsreel-ish bit:
Of less historical interest, but sweet and sad: an affable, genuine Welles at 70 being interviewed by Merv Griffin. He died two hours after the interview was taped.
One more. Welles was a magician and fascinated by all kinds of fakery and sleight-of-hand. In this short clip, he describes his one-day stint as a successful fortune teller:
I know I sound like a naif, but YouTube still blows me away. I never could have imagined I'd get to see a scene from the 20th century theatre event I most wish I'd witnessed: the 20-yr-old Orson Welles's all-black "Voodoo Macbeth" from 1936 (not on The Observer's list, but on mine). Scene begins after newsreel-ish bit:
Of less historical interest, but sweet and sad: an affable, genuine Welles at 70 being interviewed by Merv Griffin. He died two hours after the interview was taped.
One more. Welles was a magician and fascinated by all kinds of fakery and sleight-of-hand. In this short clip, he describes his one-day stint as a successful fortune teller:
10.21.2008
10.16.2008
And you're spinning like a 45
It's good to see Aravind Adiga's The White Tiger win the Booker. Adiga's Balram Halwai is the most seductive and compelling first-person narrator I've read in a while. Always nice when a big prize doesn't go to a bland book.
I've been listening to the new Dar Williams. I haven't found another "Iowa" or "The Ocean," but her version of the sublime "Midnight Radio" from Hedwig and the Angry Inch is lovely. I'm glad she decided to cover it. Someone posted a video of her performing it live to YouTube:
I've been listening to the new Dar Williams. I haven't found another "Iowa" or "The Ocean," but her version of the sublime "Midnight Radio" from Hedwig and the Angry Inch is lovely. I'm glad she decided to cover it. Someone posted a video of her performing it live to YouTube:
10.13.2008
Living With Music: a Playlist by Camille Paglia
I'm bad with saving items in my feed reader "to read later" and then letting months slip by, so it's only now I clicked through to read Living With Music: a Playlist by Camille Paglia, originally posted to the NY Times Papercuts blog in July. I've pasted it below in its entirety. Is the lickin’ stick an antebellum whip or melting phallic candy? Good ol' Camille. I'd know that voice anywhere. Have to admit I adore the Bangles cover of "Hazy Shade of Winter," too.
-----
) Train Kept A-Rollin’, The Yardbirds (1965). An addictive London Mod rave-up epitomizing the accelerating mania of the 1960s, which finally self-destructed. Based on a 1951 song by an African-American musician, Tiny Bradshaw.
2) Ballad of a Thin Man, Bob Dylan (1965). Sinister atmospherics of the garish sexual underground in the repressive pre-Stonewall world. A naive voyeur reporter steps through the looking-glass and may or may not escape.
3) Season of the Witch, Donovan (1966). Nature and society in turmoil, as identity dissolves in the psychedelic ’60s. The witch marks the return of the occult, a pagan subversion of organized religion.
4) 8 Miles High, The Byrds (1966). Shimmering Hindu sitar riffs with jet flight as a metaphor for mental expansion. The song’s ultimate theme isn’t drugs but cosmic consciousness, a now forgotten ’60s goal.
5) Foxy Lady, Jimi Hendrix (1967). Oh, those crazed, strutting, supersonic, wham-bam chords! Their shock on the nerves still excites, more than 40 years later.
6) Lickin’ Stick, James Brown (1968). A deliciously sly exercise in sexual suggestiveness underpinned by Brown’s hypnotic, trademark, heavy-bass rhythms. Is the lickin’ stick an antebellum whip or melting phallic candy?
7) Wooden Ships, Jefferson Airplane (1969). An apocalyptic spectacle of wandering survivors of nuclear war. Male and female voices meet and bond as humanity renounces aggressive nationalism.
8) Bitch, The Rolling Stones (1971). Powerful, jagged, stabbing chords that seize the mind. Is the Stones’ bitch goddess a capricious woman or enslaving heroin?
9) Hotel California, The Eagles (1976). West Coast hippie hedonism meets the new satanism. Staggeringly brilliant double guitar solos ecstatically entwining — men in love!
10) On Broadway, George Benson (1977). The Drifters’ aspirational 1963 hit song tooling along on a seductive Latin jazz beat. Benson explicitly flaunts his guitar as his artistic alter ego.
11) Straight on For You, Heart (1978). The Wilson sisters give a throbbing, sonorous tour of erotic neurology. Phenomenal display of basic, stripped rock rhythms.
12) Edge of Seventeen, Stevie Nicks (1981). The only woman rocker with a majestic orchestral flair. Stevie as Druid seer showering her maternal compassion on youthful romantic trauma.
13) Coming Out of Hiding, Pamala Stanley (1983). Now a gay anthem, this song is actually a soaring assertion of female power. It’s an exuberant war whoop, flawlessly executed by Stanley’s witty, knockout voice.
14) Ain’t Nobody, Chaka Khan with Rufus (1983). A masterpiece of modern popular culture. The passionate lead voice stays cool and low amid the pulsing, swooping neo-African rhythms. This song is a living, breathing organism.
15) Middle of the Road, The Pretenders (1983). Chrissie Hynde at Dante’s midlife crisis. She ingeniously fuses explosive, in-your-face street attitude with rueful reflections on her new role as mother.
16) On the Turning Away, Pink Floyd (1987). Celtic mysticism rising to a grand, Wagnerian finale. David Gilmour’s luminous lead guitar is ravishing beyond words.
17) Hazy Shade of Winter, The Bangles (1987). The best rocking the Bangles ever did. Simon and Garfunkel’s classic aria of angst given a crisp, slamming treatment. The drums are like artillery fire.
18) Black, Pearl Jam (1991). Deep-sea diving in the inky depths of male emotion, explored by Eddie Vedder’s rich, keening, achingly honest baritone. Wonderful interplay with the band’s virtuoso instrumentalists.
19) Un-break My Heart, Toni Braxton (1996). Two centuries of African-American church singing produced the expert dynamics and peaking structure of this elegant display of musical theater. Poignant and devastating.
20) Easy, Groove Armada (2002). An ultra-sophisticated Euro-tech descendant of Giorgio Moroder’s seminal disco collaboration with Donna Summer. Sunshine Anderson (a North Carolinian in a British band) brings introspective intensity to the moody, multi-layered soundscape.
-----
) Train Kept A-Rollin’, The Yardbirds (1965). An addictive London Mod rave-up epitomizing the accelerating mania of the 1960s, which finally self-destructed. Based on a 1951 song by an African-American musician, Tiny Bradshaw.
2) Ballad of a Thin Man, Bob Dylan (1965). Sinister atmospherics of the garish sexual underground in the repressive pre-Stonewall world. A naive voyeur reporter steps through the looking-glass and may or may not escape.
3) Season of the Witch, Donovan (1966). Nature and society in turmoil, as identity dissolves in the psychedelic ’60s. The witch marks the return of the occult, a pagan subversion of organized religion.
4) 8 Miles High, The Byrds (1966). Shimmering Hindu sitar riffs with jet flight as a metaphor for mental expansion. The song’s ultimate theme isn’t drugs but cosmic consciousness, a now forgotten ’60s goal.
5) Foxy Lady, Jimi Hendrix (1967). Oh, those crazed, strutting, supersonic, wham-bam chords! Their shock on the nerves still excites, more than 40 years later.
6) Lickin’ Stick, James Brown (1968). A deliciously sly exercise in sexual suggestiveness underpinned by Brown’s hypnotic, trademark, heavy-bass rhythms. Is the lickin’ stick an antebellum whip or melting phallic candy?
7) Wooden Ships, Jefferson Airplane (1969). An apocalyptic spectacle of wandering survivors of nuclear war. Male and female voices meet and bond as humanity renounces aggressive nationalism.
8) Bitch, The Rolling Stones (1971). Powerful, jagged, stabbing chords that seize the mind. Is the Stones’ bitch goddess a capricious woman or enslaving heroin?
9) Hotel California, The Eagles (1976). West Coast hippie hedonism meets the new satanism. Staggeringly brilliant double guitar solos ecstatically entwining — men in love!
10) On Broadway, George Benson (1977). The Drifters’ aspirational 1963 hit song tooling along on a seductive Latin jazz beat. Benson explicitly flaunts his guitar as his artistic alter ego.
11) Straight on For You, Heart (1978). The Wilson sisters give a throbbing, sonorous tour of erotic neurology. Phenomenal display of basic, stripped rock rhythms.
12) Edge of Seventeen, Stevie Nicks (1981). The only woman rocker with a majestic orchestral flair. Stevie as Druid seer showering her maternal compassion on youthful romantic trauma.
13) Coming Out of Hiding, Pamala Stanley (1983). Now a gay anthem, this song is actually a soaring assertion of female power. It’s an exuberant war whoop, flawlessly executed by Stanley’s witty, knockout voice.
14) Ain’t Nobody, Chaka Khan with Rufus (1983). A masterpiece of modern popular culture. The passionate lead voice stays cool and low amid the pulsing, swooping neo-African rhythms. This song is a living, breathing organism.
15) Middle of the Road, The Pretenders (1983). Chrissie Hynde at Dante’s midlife crisis. She ingeniously fuses explosive, in-your-face street attitude with rueful reflections on her new role as mother.
16) On the Turning Away, Pink Floyd (1987). Celtic mysticism rising to a grand, Wagnerian finale. David Gilmour’s luminous lead guitar is ravishing beyond words.
17) Hazy Shade of Winter, The Bangles (1987). The best rocking the Bangles ever did. Simon and Garfunkel’s classic aria of angst given a crisp, slamming treatment. The drums are like artillery fire.
18) Black, Pearl Jam (1991). Deep-sea diving in the inky depths of male emotion, explored by Eddie Vedder’s rich, keening, achingly honest baritone. Wonderful interplay with the band’s virtuoso instrumentalists.
19) Un-break My Heart, Toni Braxton (1996). Two centuries of African-American church singing produced the expert dynamics and peaking structure of this elegant display of musical theater. Poignant and devastating.
20) Easy, Groove Armada (2002). An ultra-sophisticated Euro-tech descendant of Giorgio Moroder’s seminal disco collaboration with Donna Summer. Sunshine Anderson (a North Carolinian in a British band) brings introspective intensity to the moody, multi-layered soundscape.
10.11.2008
10.08.2008
'A Brief History of the 21st Century" (Chuck Klosterman)
Sci-fi authors, people-who-like-to-plan-way-in-advance, and cat fanciers, take note: "A Brief History of the Twenty-first Century" by Chuck Klosterman, for Esquire
Some appealing excerpts:
JUNE 11, 2041: In a matter of weeks, the entire Internet is replaced by "news blow," a granular microbe that allows information to be snorted, injected, or smoked. Data can now be synthesized into a water-soluble powder and absorbed directly into the cranial bloodstream, providing users with an instantaneous visual portrait of whatever information they are interested in consuming. (Sadly, this tends to be slow-motion images of minor celebrities going to the bathroom.) Now irrelevant, an ocean of Web pioneers lament the evolution. "What about the craft?" they ask no one in particular. "What about the inherent human pleasure of moving one's mouse across a hyperlink, not knowing what a simple click might teach you? Whatever happened to ironic thirty-word capsule reviews about marginally popular TV shows? Have we lost this forever?" "You just don't get new media," respond the news-blowers. "You just don't get it."
JUNE 6, 2064: U.S. consumers become obsessed with "expectation entertainment": By stimulating obscure areas of the brain with low pulses of electricity, people can be given the sensation of how it feels just before the actual experience of something they enjoy (a concert, sex, a delicious meal, etc.). By focusing on the anticipation of an event (as opposed to creating the event itself), audiences are never disappointed.
JUNE 5, 2070: Wolves in Canada begin hunting humans at an alarming rate. Shark attacks increase 40 percent. Jungle animals begin successfully infiltrating urban areas; a panther kills at least nine people in downtown Dallas. "I don't know why the animals are getting smarter," says zoologist Eli Sperle-Cho, "but it's definitely happening."
OCT. 19, 2071: An army of panda bears attacks Beijing, killing twelve hundred people and wounding thousands more during a bloody four-day onslaught.
APRIL 5, 2072: Animals are banned from the moon. House cats now kill more people than heart disease.
NOV. 5, 2081: To slow oxygen consumption, moon inhabitants are ordered to remain relatively motionless for twenty hours a day. To compensate, every person is allowed to cerebrally download the complete memories of a fictional lifetime once a week; the populace now spends most of its time feeling nostalgic for things they did not actually do.
(read the rest)
Some appealing excerpts:
JUNE 11, 2041: In a matter of weeks, the entire Internet is replaced by "news blow," a granular microbe that allows information to be snorted, injected, or smoked. Data can now be synthesized into a water-soluble powder and absorbed directly into the cranial bloodstream, providing users with an instantaneous visual portrait of whatever information they are interested in consuming. (Sadly, this tends to be slow-motion images of minor celebrities going to the bathroom.) Now irrelevant, an ocean of Web pioneers lament the evolution. "What about the craft?" they ask no one in particular. "What about the inherent human pleasure of moving one's mouse across a hyperlink, not knowing what a simple click might teach you? Whatever happened to ironic thirty-word capsule reviews about marginally popular TV shows? Have we lost this forever?" "You just don't get new media," respond the news-blowers. "You just don't get it."
JUNE 6, 2064: U.S. consumers become obsessed with "expectation entertainment": By stimulating obscure areas of the brain with low pulses of electricity, people can be given the sensation of how it feels just before the actual experience of something they enjoy (a concert, sex, a delicious meal, etc.). By focusing on the anticipation of an event (as opposed to creating the event itself), audiences are never disappointed.
JUNE 5, 2070: Wolves in Canada begin hunting humans at an alarming rate. Shark attacks increase 40 percent. Jungle animals begin successfully infiltrating urban areas; a panther kills at least nine people in downtown Dallas. "I don't know why the animals are getting smarter," says zoologist Eli Sperle-Cho, "but it's definitely happening."
OCT. 19, 2071: An army of panda bears attacks Beijing, killing twelve hundred people and wounding thousands more during a bloody four-day onslaught.
APRIL 5, 2072: Animals are banned from the moon. House cats now kill more people than heart disease.
NOV. 5, 2081: To slow oxygen consumption, moon inhabitants are ordered to remain relatively motionless for twenty hours a day. To compensate, every person is allowed to cerebrally download the complete memories of a fictional lifetime once a week; the populace now spends most of its time feeling nostalgic for things they did not actually do.
(read the rest)
9.18.2008
"Blind Masseurs Jump From Bridge"
"Blind Masseurs Jump From Bridge"
Get your grubby hands off it, I'm gonna be the first to use this story in a poem.
Get your grubby hands off it, I'm gonna be the first to use this story in a poem.
9.04.2008
Fibular Hemimelia: Resources for Support
I've noticed that lots of folks are landing at this blog via searches on "fibular hemimelia," entering through a May 08 post I wrote on fibular hemimelia, amputation, and Oscar Pistorius. I thought it might be worthwhile to post some FH-related links on the assumption that those searchers are looking for more than my post offered. I've reviewed these sites, but do not personally frequent them. Like "We're Here, We're Queer, Get Used To It," I'm here, with fibular hemimelia, and used to it. But those landing here may be new to FH and searching for more experience-related info than the FH entry in Wheeless' Textbook of Orthopaedics provides, so here are some friendlier options.I'll say this, quickly: I have not undergone leg lengthening or amputation as of today, though I had around 20 surgeries for my FH between 1974 (my birth year) and 1998. If your kid has FH and is young and you're wondering if you should undergo leg lengthening, my feeling is go for it. Really, it's not that bad, medieval as that external fixator (and thanks to Ilizarov, an ex-fix might not be necessary) may have looked on Ethan Hawke in Gattaca. I've seen a lot of kids with successful lengthenings in my surgeons' waiting rooms. I was on track to undergo lengthening when I was around 23, but once you're a grown-up with a 40-hour job you need to drive to and a family to help support, it's damn near impossible. Go for it while your kids are young. I wouldn't hesitate if it were my kid (and yes, I have some). I feel confident in recommending the International Center for Limb Lengthening in Baltimore, and especially doctor Dror Paley. I was their patient before they were a "Center"--were simply a wing of Kernan Hospital. I don't have enough close experience to have much of an opinion on amputation, but my May post detailed the ways in which many are now thinking it's a better course (in terms of patient pain and long-term satisfaction) than lengthening.
On to the links. I'll look for and post more as I have time to.
Fibular Hemimelia Support/Discussion Group at Yahoo
This group appears to be fairly active and up-to-date as of 09/04/08.
The description says, "This group is for parents [of kids] and kids who were born with fibular hemimelia. My wish is for this board to provide support, encouragement and hope for those seeking it. Membership requires approval for the safety of our members as well as a prevention to keep spammers away. Photos are allowed and encouraged. Please check out the LINKS section for more info and resources on FH."
"Fibular Hemimelia: Diagnosis, Treatment, and Support"
--article at Pregnancy Today
Help Jessica Walk
--a personal page (donation-seeking, but free to read, of course) by a girl born with fibular hemimelia in 1986 who is finally seeking funds for amputation at age 20 as she begins to feel that the pain/braces/surgeries she's gone through aren't cutting it for her. Her case looks similar to mine and it scares me to read of her pain worsening and some of her mother's comments ("Jessi's condition worsened. Every time she took a step the pain was excruciating. The bones in her ankle were beginning to deteriorate and crumble. Her suffering was such that she begged for her legs to be removed") (Crumble? Shit!), as I've noticed recently that my pain is worsening & function lessening, too: I'm tripping and falling a lot, and my leg aches pretty regularly. Doesn't appear that Jessica ever attempted leg-lengthening. I'm not prepared or expecting (who is?) to deteriorate that badly, but if I do, I can't say I'm jazzed about the thought of amputating at my age (34). I might prefer a wheelchair if that was an option.
Limb Differences
--described as an "online resource for families and friends of children with limb differences," this is a broader site that includes fibular hemimelia and has a Connections/Message Board, fairly active as of 09/04/08.
Hemimelia Support Group (London, UK)
Hope these help.
September 4, 1957
Soul Make a Path Through Shouting
for Elizabeth Eckford
Little Rock, Arkansas, 1957
--Cyrus Cassells
Thick at the schoolgate are the ones
Rage has twisted
Into minotaurs, harpies
Relentlessly swift;
So you must walk past the pincers,
The swaying horns,
Sister, sister,
Straight through the gusts
Of fear and fury,
Straight through:
Where are you going?
I'm just going to school.
Here we go to meet
The hydra-headed day,
Here we go to meet
The maelstrom--
Can my voice be an angel-on-the-spot,
An amen corner?
Can my voice take you there,
Gallant girl with a notebook,
Up, up from the shadows of gallows trees
To the other shore:
A globe bathed in light,
A chalkboard blooming with equations--
I have never seen the likes of you,
Pioneer in dark glasses:
You won't show the mob your eyes,
But I know your gaze,
Steady-on-the-North-Star, burning--
With their jerry-rigged faith,
Their spear of the American flag,
How could they dare to believe
You're someone sacred?:
Nigger, burr-headed girl,
Where are you going?
I'm just going to school.
8.27.2008
Del Martin, 1921-2008
Lesbian rights activist Del Martin, who co-founded the Daughters of Bilitis with Phyllis Lyon and finally got to marry Phyllis (after 55 years together) this past June in San Francisco, passed away this morning. She was 87.
Associated Press article
8.26.2008
"The Girl's Will; or Optimism" by Judith Hall
I like this poem, posted a week or so ago on the Best American Poetry blog. A cento, I assume? Been meaning to re-post it here. After Hillary's speech feels like a good time to do it.
The Girl's Will; or Optimism
After Alice, Lolita, Candy, Candide, and Alice Again
"Curiouser and curiouser!" cried —
Half-naked, kneeling, turning about on
"Darn Daddy anyway!" she said
Once upon a time.
Something interesting is sure to
Grow large again, for really
The sex interests of children
The heavy breathing of the
Best. For I am infinitely
Growing and growing, and very soon
With a yelp of delight
Stirring in a little girl
Her terrible selfishness, how it
Was an indispensable part of
Thinking I should be free.
"Please mind what you're doing!"
"This is a free country."
The girl was quite excited,
The best of all possible
Riddles that have no answers.
--Judith Hall
More Hall:
"The God that Took the Place of Pleasure" in The Boston Review
"White Bottom Blues" (BAP blog again)
"Poem for the Wheat Penny (1909-1958)"
Three Poems in Inertia Magazine
The Girl's Will; or Optimism
After Alice, Lolita, Candy, Candide, and Alice Again
"Curiouser and curiouser!" cried —
Half-naked, kneeling, turning about on
"Darn Daddy anyway!" she said
Once upon a time.
Something interesting is sure to
Grow large again, for really
The sex interests of children
The heavy breathing of the
Best. For I am infinitely
Growing and growing, and very soon
With a yelp of delight
Stirring in a little girl
Her terrible selfishness, how it
Was an indispensable part of
Thinking I should be free.
"Please mind what you're doing!"
"This is a free country."
The girl was quite excited,
The best of all possible
Riddles that have no answers.
--Judith Hall
More Hall:
"The God that Took the Place of Pleasure" in The Boston Review
"White Bottom Blues" (BAP blog again)
"Poem for the Wheat Penny (1909-1958)"
Three Poems in Inertia Magazine
8.21.2008
Joshua Callaghan's graph sculptures
These strike me as better-than-gimmicky--Joshua Callaghan's smart, simple graph sculptures. Could make a great grade/high school assignment, too--students each contribute a sculpture graph--let's say they're doing a unit on a certain war, or Native American history, or labor, or something--and create a sculpture garden-like exhibit for parents to walk through on back-to-school night (or to keep as an installation in the school). Via Waxy.
Military Spending by Nation, painted wood
Consumer Confidence, 2006-07, brass, wood
Very Concerned, Somewhat concerned, Not at All Concerned
wood, paint, 4"x12"x50"
Military Spending by Nation, painted wood
Consumer Confidence, 2006-07, brass, wood
Very Concerned, Somewhat concerned, Not at All Concerned
wood, paint, 4"x12"x50"
8.17.2008
Nele Azevedo ice installation
Ooh, these are great. Via Neatorama, photos of an installation by Brazilian artist Nele Azevedo from October 2006. The piece uninstalls itself, when the last ice guy melts--reminiscent of Laurie Anderson's Duets on Ice.
8.01.2008
Breaking Dawn Blood Drives
Via Publisher's Weekly, this is pretty great: some of the book stores holding midnight release parties for Breaking Dawn, the conclusion to Stephenie Meyer's wildly popular teen vampire series, are combining them with late-night blood drives. Powell's is offering blood donors preferential treatment in the book line.
7.09.2008
Songza
Songza is a site where you can, for free, look up and listen to entire songs when the mood strikes you. They have some neat tools, one of which allows you to send a song to a friend, one to embed a song on your site, one to link to a song, one to post a song to Twitter, etc. Good if you're looking to listen to, but not purchase, a song--or to listen to the whole thing and not just a sample before purchasing. I haven't delved into their collection too deeply, but I was able to find Madder Rose's "Swim", which is not available on iTunes--and unable to find the B-52s' "Dry County," which I had stuck in my mind today on my commute. A quick search on the song I most obsess over, Laura Branigan's "Gloria," also yielded live performances of "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina" and "Me & Bobby McGee" by Branigan.
Links to some of my favorite songs of the last year (in pop, at least):
"This Heart is a Stone" by Acid House Kings
"1969" by Montt Mardie
"Toxic" cover by Mark Ronson feat. Old Dirty Bastard
"Blue Motorbike" by Moto Boy
And an oldie to shake your coffee to this morning:
"Bust A Move" by Young MC
Links to some of my favorite songs of the last year (in pop, at least):
"This Heart is a Stone" by Acid House Kings
"1969" by Montt Mardie
"Toxic" cover by Mark Ronson feat. Old Dirty Bastard
"Blue Motorbike" by Moto Boy
And an oldie to shake your coffee to this morning:
"Bust A Move" by Young MC
7.07.2008
Clerihews at the Boston Globe
Rats--found out too late that The Boston Globe is running a clerihew contest (finalists to be chosen tonight, 7/7, then voted on until July 10). Submissions are in the comments and are fun to read through. Some of my favorite entries (I'm disqualifying ones in which the first line consists of anything more than the subject’s name—it’s not a strict rule of the form, I guess, but I’m a hardass like that):
By “A. Nan”:
Jorie Graham
once said, "I am,
I think. Or not.
At least I'm hot!"
Frank Bidart
bent over Art,
called the friction
stuff of fiction.
By “therblig”:
Tim Berners-Lee
Invented HTTP
Thus the world wide web was born
For Nigerian Diplomats and porn
Georg Simon Ohm
Studied physics in his Bavarian home
But after much resistance, he just couldn't fight it
And wrote "Die galvanische Kette, mathematisch bearbeitet "
By “Danielle”:
Joe Orton
Was never too shy to go courtin'.
He spent some time in the slammer
Then got bludgeoned with a hammer.
[Think I'd vote for the Jorie--or Georg Simon Ohm]
Here are the only clerihews I’ve ever written, for a great class with Peter Klappert in '97:
Elizabeth Bishop
buttered the fish up
with homage and versification--
and herbed garlic, post-publication.
Marianne Moore
kept a voluminous store
of quotes that she dug in
case she needed something to plug in.
By “A. Nan”:
Jorie Graham
once said, "I am,
I think. Or not.
At least I'm hot!"
Frank Bidart
bent over Art,
called the friction
stuff of fiction.
By “therblig”:
Tim Berners-Lee
Invented HTTP
Thus the world wide web was born
For Nigerian Diplomats and porn
Georg Simon Ohm
Studied physics in his Bavarian home
But after much resistance, he just couldn't fight it
And wrote "Die galvanische Kette, mathematisch bearbeitet "
By “Danielle”:
Joe Orton
Was never too shy to go courtin'.
He spent some time in the slammer
Then got bludgeoned with a hammer.
[Think I'd vote for the Jorie--or Georg Simon Ohm]
Here are the only clerihews I’ve ever written, for a great class with Peter Klappert in '97:
Elizabeth Bishop
buttered the fish up
with homage and versification--
and herbed garlic, post-publication.
Marianne Moore
kept a voluminous store
of quotes that she dug in
case she needed something to plug in.
6.27.2008
Museum Staff Cleaning Elephant Skin, 1933
--photo by Thane Bierwert, from an incredibly cool new online exhibit by the American Museum of Natural History: images of exhibition preparations from the 1930s.
6.04.2008
Book House in Dinkytown
The June issue of Bookslut features an interview with Kristen Eide-Tollefson, owner of The Book House in Dinkytown--one of the best (maybe the best) used bookstores for poetry & poetics in Minneapolis. Whenever I bring books in for trade, she says "I love your books! I love your books!" It's also a great rainy-day date place (especially if you start a few doors down at Al's Breakfast).
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