From an exhibit at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown, New York.
http://www.baseballhalloffame.org
http://www.cooperstownchamber.org
http://www.baseballhalloffame.org
http://www.cooperstownchamber.org
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
I Pledge...
I was never a bright kid; at best, I was average. What you would call a child who once stole one miserable walnut from a supermarket display ("What's that bulge in your pants, Danny?"), but who thought he'd get away with it? A kid who looked twice before crossing the street but who still got run over by a car? What about that time, when on vacation in Cancun, Mexico, after jumping into the deep end of the pool—despite not knowing how to swim—I nearly drowned (many thanks to the burly American for saving my life)? "But these things happen to the best of us, Danny," I hear you saying. "After all," you continue, "you were a kid." I couldn't have known better, right? The point is that life, which is, ostensibly, a collection of experiences, need not—should not—be filled with such failures. In other words, I should have known better, I should have known that telethons weren't created to entertain people (*wink*); they were created so that good deeds could be performed, so that people could dress up and have somewhere to go. The problem I had as a kid—and, frankly, still have—is that I have some trouble relating to what people really need. I have trouble, and I don't think this has ever been clearer to me, understanding the messages and signals that are sent my way, as though my brain is inherently incapable of understanding the 4 billion+ people with whom I share this planet. (I exaggerate, of course, but you get the idea.)
A good example of this little quirk of mine is when, many, many years ago, I was watching one of the "Jerry's Kids" telethons, which, if I remember correctly, went on for what seemed like weeks, and its host, Jerry Lewis, in a fancy tuxedo, implored viewers to donate money with which to help children with some incurable disease. The program was something of a mish-mash of celebrities and musicians coming together for a good cause and a common purpose: helping the less fortunate. At various points throughout the show, cameras would pan over to volunteers working the phones, taking money from folks all over the country. My favorite part of the whole thing, the whole feeling of the program, was when Lewis would walk to the counter with bright, LED lights and say, "We've now raised $250,000 dollars!" Then the band would play, the studio audience would offer polite claps, and the motivation to participate would swell in me even more.
I wanted to help, to participate, and knew I had to do something. I picked up the phone and dialed the 1-800 number, after which I heard the volunteer's voice on the other end of the line: "Jerry's Kids! What's your pledge?" This was the moment that I had been waiting for all afternoon; the opportunity for me to give the only pledge I knew would not be denied: "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America..." Before I could finish my pledge, the volunteer hung up the phone, and I was left terribly confused. How else could I have helped? What else could I have done? Had I failed so miserably as to not deserve a response? I still ask myself these questions, and I still frame my life, to some extent at least, in terms which only allow for victory and for loss—a particular view of my relations to others that leaves for much confusion and distress.
There will be one day, though, one far-off day, when I'll pick up a phone and the person on the other line will say, with all sincerity, Hello. It's good to hear from you.
*
And now, in no particular order, the Best Albums and Related Stuff of 2008:
Stereolab - Chemical Chords - [4AD]
Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes - [Sub Pop]
The Night Marchers - See You in Magic - [Vagrant]
Hot Chip - Made in the Dark - [Astralwerks]
Portishead - Third - [Mercury]
The Black Keys - Attack & Release - [Nonesuch]
Spiritualized - Songs in A & E - [Fontana]
Bonnie "Prince" Billy - Lie Down in the Light - [Drag City]
TV on the Radio - Dear Science - [DGC/Interscope]
Hercules and Love Affair - Hercules and Love Affair - [Mute]
Best Song: "On the Water," by the Walkmen
Best Song by a Band Called "The Black Kids" That is Not Comprised Entirely of Black Kids: "I've Underestimated My Charm (Again)"
Best Single: "Blind," by Hercules and Love AffairBest Compilation: Randy's 50th Anniversary - [VP Records]
Best Album Not Released in 2008: Damaged, by Black Flag
*
I'm here with you all, truly.
[D | R]
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Monday, December 08, 2008
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Rattle
The new issue of Rattle includes my poem "Everything & Nothing (TM)." Not, mind you, in the tribute to Cowboy & Western poets,(in that section, however, there's a poem by Red Shuttleworth, who I knew back in Vegas--he was part of the UNLV playwriting program, and let me tell you, he could have walked full-blown out of one of Sam Shepard's plays).
As always, there's a glitch: an R has been dropped from my name on the back cover, turning me into "Gegory." I swear, I've had more misprints in the last few years than a drunken compositor. Oh well.
{gc}
As always, there's a glitch: an R has been dropped from my name on the back cover, turning me into "Gegory." I swear, I've had more misprints in the last few years than a drunken compositor. Oh well.
{gc}
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Arrrgh!
Check out Ryan Stechler's Pirate's Christmas Carol, newly added to Elaine Equi's Holiday Album on Jacket.
It must be December--they're playing some really crappy Xmas song right now that samples the Beatles' "Got to Get You Into My Life." Heavy sigh.
{gc}
It must be December--they're playing some really crappy Xmas song right now that samples the Beatles' "Got to Get You Into My Life." Heavy sigh.
{gc}
Monday, November 17, 2008
my day
The lines on the highway, the horizon,
both sides of a debate. The flash of yellow in
rear view. Deer's guts splayed on the white.
Please discard your personal life here.
Teddy bear wears a Yankees T-shirt,
his feet are up the air. The trees are
bottom heavy. It is hard to be
creative on demand.
My food network is gone, fuzzy.
The cat is snoring. Where's my
bloody mary? There's nothing
quite like a woman in love.
—this poem is forthcoming on my personal blog
both sides of a debate. The flash of yellow in
rear view. Deer's guts splayed on the white.
Please discard your personal life here.
Teddy bear wears a Yankees T-shirt,
his feet are up the air. The trees are
bottom heavy. It is hard to be
creative on demand.
My food network is gone, fuzzy.
The cat is snoring. Where's my
bloody mary? There's nothing
quite like a woman in love.
—this poem is forthcoming on my personal blog
More News
Two of my poems, "Sea-Change" and "Ghazal (Not Guzzle)," are now online in the Fall 2008 Issue of BigCityLit. Huzzah.
I think I'm also reading at BigCityLit's release reading at Cornelia Street a week from tomorrow night...
{gc}
I think I'm also reading at BigCityLit's release reading at Cornelia Street a week from tomorrow night...
{gc}
If Only
I received an encouraging but firm rejection, via electronic mail, from the Kenyon Review.
Minutes later, I received an acceptance, also via electronic mail, from Copper Nickel.
If only all good news arrived, like winged Mercury, on the heels of bad.
{gc}
Minutes later, I received an acceptance, also via electronic mail, from Copper Nickel.
If only all good news arrived, like winged Mercury, on the heels of bad.
{gc}
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Awkward Restraint
My review of Heart Burns, the debut solo album of Against Me frontman Tom Gabel:
"Random Hearts" is an apt name for a random song—and album for that matter—that doesn't know what it wants to be. Heart Burns feels stuck awkwardly between a punk past and an uncertain future. Stripped of the backing of a rollicking punk band, the lyrics seem flat and immature, and frankly provoked some cringing by yours truly on my morning commute, as if a young white teenager were waxing poetic about the headlines of a newspaper he cannot afford to read because he is struggling to pay rent to his slumlord. Too obvious.
Gabel's strengths just didn't shine in this solo format. I wanted to have fun while cursing the establishment, but was too distracted. The lyrics just don't hold up, the contrast of his signature raspy voice is not enough to achieve the beautiful balance like in Against Me's "New Wave." Many of the lines sound like Gabel trying to give himself advice and convince himself of his political views—his old self, perhaps, as he is struggling on a "Conceptual Path" to form a new identity. He is utterly conflicted and alone, and not in a good way. (Perhaps he should study Elliot Smith.) It felt unsteady, unsure and a bit forced, like a summer fling, an indulgent experiment gone awry. It signals death, a death of punk perhaps, that Gabel should go on fighting against, not surrendering to.
However, I am still eager to hear him play live, along with his openers, at the Knitting Factory on my birthday, a week from today. I think without the barrier of the studio, his rawness will be more genuine, smile-inducing, and dare I say it, romantic (though I don't know if Gabel knows if he wants it to be). Either way, it will be a good night. I am sure.
There is one saving grace, one gem, on this quick, 7-song album. The track that works is called Harsh Realms. It is pure and simple and true (and also would sound better with a rocking punk band backing it:).
This is not punk. But punk is Gabel's heart. And oh, how his heart burns.
Speaking of frontmen and randomness, doesn't Danny looks scarily similar to the pregnant man? ;)
"Random Hearts" is an apt name for a random song—and album for that matter—that doesn't know what it wants to be. Heart Burns feels stuck awkwardly between a punk past and an uncertain future. Stripped of the backing of a rollicking punk band, the lyrics seem flat and immature, and frankly provoked some cringing by yours truly on my morning commute, as if a young white teenager were waxing poetic about the headlines of a newspaper he cannot afford to read because he is struggling to pay rent to his slumlord. Too obvious.
Gabel's strengths just didn't shine in this solo format. I wanted to have fun while cursing the establishment, but was too distracted. The lyrics just don't hold up, the contrast of his signature raspy voice is not enough to achieve the beautiful balance like in Against Me's "New Wave." Many of the lines sound like Gabel trying to give himself advice and convince himself of his political views—his old self, perhaps, as he is struggling on a "Conceptual Path" to form a new identity. He is utterly conflicted and alone, and not in a good way. (Perhaps he should study Elliot Smith.) It felt unsteady, unsure and a bit forced, like a summer fling, an indulgent experiment gone awry. It signals death, a death of punk perhaps, that Gabel should go on fighting against, not surrendering to.
However, I am still eager to hear him play live, along with his openers, at the Knitting Factory on my birthday, a week from today. I think without the barrier of the studio, his rawness will be more genuine, smile-inducing, and dare I say it, romantic (though I don't know if Gabel knows if he wants it to be). Either way, it will be a good night. I am sure.
There is one saving grace, one gem, on this quick, 7-song album. The track that works is called Harsh Realms. It is pure and simple and true (and also would sound better with a rocking punk band backing it:).
This is not punk. But punk is Gabel's heart. And oh, how his heart burns.
Speaking of frontmen and randomness, doesn't Danny looks scarily similar to the pregnant man? ;)
You See This Doorknob, Barack?
Barack, let me show you something important. This Oval Office doorknob sticks, and it can lock when you don't want it to. When that happens, you have to walk all the way around to the tourist entrance and stand in line. Mighty embarassing! I usually put a book there to prop it open. They'll bring you a thing called the Daily Brief, and that works good. Now, I don't know if they told you, but the house comes unfurnished. Not a stick of furniture. You can go to Ikea and buy your own stuff, like we did when the Clintons left, but you gotta put that together. We got some nice stuff here, and I'm sure we can agree on a fair price to just leave it for you guys. Here, let me show you the candy machine... --posted by Robert Basler, Reuters Oddly Enough blog, Nov. 10, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
The American Photographer
A few years ago, while visiting the Art Institute of Chicago, I came across a self-portrait of an artist whose exposed chest was carved with the word, PERVERT--fresh and reddened; a leather S/M mask obscured her mouth, nose, and ears; delicately placed needles ran up and down her arms, directing the viewer to consider multiple sources of physical anguish; and she sat, with fingers interlocked, in front of an elegant, patterned sheet, which appeared to belie the artist's true intent (is this photograph about "perverse" sexual inclinations no matter the gender, or does the image aim to address the issue of violence against women? All or none of the above, perhaps?). I had forgotten the name of the artist by the time I left Chicago, but was never able to shake off the image, so graphic and shocking, yet also quite refined and careful.
Earlier this month I picked up a European magazine--the name of which I cannot bother to recall right now--dedicated to the arts, in which I read about artist-photographer, Catherine Opie, whose mid-career retrospective is now on view at the Guggenheim. The article on Opie featured a photograph of her son, Oliver, wearing a pink tutu and crown; a USC t-shirt rounded out this most unusual of outfits for a young boy. I appreciated how the soft light accented a part of Oliver's face, and how two other subjects, in soft focus, carried on with their own lives, domestic and seemingly inconsequential, in the background. The article also referenced Opie's self-portrait; I was immediately taken back to the halls of the Art Institute, to the wonder and awe I felt towards an artist whose bold moves towards the personal and private made me reconsider the idea of the body as change.
Opie's show at the Guggenheim is wide-ranging, naturally; such is the nature of mid-career retrospectives. The problem with such views into the recent past, though, is that it can be difficult to trace something of a narrative; dozens of photographs arranged within multiple levels of a museum do not necessarily tell a story. Thankfully, the success of American Photographer owes as much to the show's curator(s) as it does to Opie, as both museum and artist selected works that offer far more than what is safe and expected, far more than what would please the average museum-goer. In other words, this show is something of a challenge, a direct call to the viewer to think about underrepresented--not to mention misrepresented--subjects and ideas. In this respect, Opie's portraits of icons within the S/M and queer communities work toward a disruption against a definition of supposedly "alternative" modes of living; in Opie's photographs, love and desire occupy the same space once reserved for comparatively conservative, hetero-focused art (see Reubens, etc.).
As much as I found the portraits of her friends and the large-scale Polaroids of performance artist Ron Athey worthy and shocking in their own right (how else to describe a picture of a heavily-tattooed man with a string of pearls coming out of his asshole?), I was most moved by the subtle simplicity of shots depicting Minnesota landscapes and surfers in California. These later images speak of isolation as delirium, as the viewer is lost, in one moment, in a scene obliterated by wind and snow, only to be subsumed, in another moment, in the deep expanse of the Pacific Ocean. I caught myself smiling and nodding my head as I walked past these particular photographs, and thought, Yes, of course!
Catherine Opie: American Photographer runs through January 7, 2009
[D | R]
Earlier this month I picked up a European magazine--the name of which I cannot bother to recall right now--dedicated to the arts, in which I read about artist-photographer, Catherine Opie, whose mid-career retrospective is now on view at the Guggenheim. The article on Opie featured a photograph of her son, Oliver, wearing a pink tutu and crown; a USC t-shirt rounded out this most unusual of outfits for a young boy. I appreciated how the soft light accented a part of Oliver's face, and how two other subjects, in soft focus, carried on with their own lives, domestic and seemingly inconsequential, in the background. The article also referenced Opie's self-portrait; I was immediately taken back to the halls of the Art Institute, to the wonder and awe I felt towards an artist whose bold moves towards the personal and private made me reconsider the idea of the body as change.
Opie's show at the Guggenheim is wide-ranging, naturally; such is the nature of mid-career retrospectives. The problem with such views into the recent past, though, is that it can be difficult to trace something of a narrative; dozens of photographs arranged within multiple levels of a museum do not necessarily tell a story. Thankfully, the success of American Photographer owes as much to the show's curator(s) as it does to Opie, as both museum and artist selected works that offer far more than what is safe and expected, far more than what would please the average museum-goer. In other words, this show is something of a challenge, a direct call to the viewer to think about underrepresented--not to mention misrepresented--subjects and ideas. In this respect, Opie's portraits of icons within the S/M and queer communities work toward a disruption against a definition of supposedly "alternative" modes of living; in Opie's photographs, love and desire occupy the same space once reserved for comparatively conservative, hetero-focused art (see Reubens, etc.).
As much as I found the portraits of her friends and the large-scale Polaroids of performance artist Ron Athey worthy and shocking in their own right (how else to describe a picture of a heavily-tattooed man with a string of pearls coming out of his asshole?), I was most moved by the subtle simplicity of shots depicting Minnesota landscapes and surfers in California. These later images speak of isolation as delirium, as the viewer is lost, in one moment, in a scene obliterated by wind and snow, only to be subsumed, in another moment, in the deep expanse of the Pacific Ocean. I caught myself smiling and nodding my head as I walked past these particular photographs, and thought, Yes, of course!
Catherine Opie: American Photographer runs through January 7, 2009
[D | R]
Sunday, November 09, 2008
The One Three Eight (Beta)
The Autumn 2008 issue of The One Three Eight is live... it's not completely done. The Editors' Journal needs some new content (I'm working on that, as I sure my co-editor is...hint, hint). It's our unintentional all-women issue (which could only be unintentional, because the idea of doing a ghettoized "women poets" issue is frankly offensive).
In other news, I had a really, really nice weekend. Tomorrow, I have my observation. Ah, Monday.
{gc}
In other news, I had a really, really nice weekend. Tomorrow, I have my observation. Ah, Monday.
{gc}
Friday, November 07, 2008
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
the crossing
It's been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America.
—President-elect Barack Obama, from his Victory Speech, November 4, 2008.
—Henry Louis Gates, Jr., from "In Our Lifetime," November 4, 2008.
http://www.theroot.com/id/48731
Dear Brother Obama,
You have no idea, really, of how profound this moment is for us. ... seeing you deliver the torch so many others before you carried, year after year, decade after decade, century after century, only to be struck down before igniting the flame of justice and of law, is almost more than the heart can bear. ... Seeing you take your rightful place, based solely on your wisdom, stamina and character, is a balm for the weary warriors of hope, previously only sung about. ... We are the ones we have been waiting for.
—Alice Walker, from "An Open Letter to Barack Obama," November 5, 2008.
http://www.theroot.com/id/48726
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
A Public Service Announcement
Dear Fellow Americans,
The Grand Marquis Coterie, in all its infinite wisdom, would like to remind you that it is your right--not to mention your civic duty--to cast a ballot for your presidential candidate of choice. This election cycle has proven to be one of the important in American history, and, with any luck, will usher in a new age of, *ahem*, progressive politics. So, whatever your political affiliation or favored topic (the freedom-to-marry-whomever-you-want-because-you-love-him-or-her, etc.), kindly visit your local polling place. Americans everywhere thank you.
--Paid for by the Grand Marquis Coterie Election 2008 Sub-committee
--Paid for by the Grand Marquis Coterie Election 2008 Sub-committee
Monday, November 03, 2008
Prelude to an Elitist Storm
Here are songs--some new, some old--that I've been enjoying lately; maybe you'll enjoy them, too:
1. The (International) Noise Conspiracy - "A Northwest Passage" - [Epitaph/Burning Heart]
2. Gang Gang Dance - "House Jam" - [The Social Registry]3. The Walkmen - "On the Water" - [Gigantic]
4. Fleet Foxes - "He Doesn't Know Why" - [Sub Pop]
5. Rocket from the Crypt - "Hippy Dippy Do" - [Atlantic/Interscope]
6. Tindersticks - "Introduction" - [Constellation]
7. Jawbreaker - "Save Your Generation" - [DGC]
8. Crystal Castles - "Through the Hosiery" - [Lies/Last Gang]
9. Stereolab - "Miss Modular" - [Elektra]
10. The Night Marchers - "Closed for Inventory" - [Vagrant/Swami]
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Counting Down...
Time to catch the right train...
Every time I read about Obama's personality, he sounds like a combination of Lincoln and FDR... fingers crossed.
{gc}
Every time I read about Obama's personality, he sounds like a combination of Lincoln and FDR... fingers crossed.
{gc}
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
We Love a Winner
What is that deliciously full word that Germans have to describe the feeling of taking pleasure in someone else's misery? Oh, that's right, schadenfreude. Suck it, Red Sux, suck it long and hard!
*
Apparently, rural Colombians enjoy the work of Paulo Coehlo, brought to them by an enterprising teacher and a donkey.
*
I just received a rejection from a literary journal out west, to which I sent poems 468 days ago!
*
Here's some stuff I like:
a) Gallows and make-you-sweat punk rock--circle pit!
b) Fucking Hell: Jake & Dinos Chapman make you feel a little uncomfortable;
c) KILL YOUR IDOLS: Suicide! Lydia Lunch! Liars! Oh my!;
[D | R]
*
Apparently, rural Colombians enjoy the work of Paulo Coehlo, brought to them by an enterprising teacher and a donkey.
*
I just received a rejection from a literary journal out west, to which I sent poems 468 days ago!
*
Here's some stuff I like:
a) Gallows and make-you-sweat punk rock--circle pit!
b) Fucking Hell: Jake & Dinos Chapman make you feel a little uncomfortable;
c) KILL YOUR IDOLS: Suicide! Lydia Lunch! Liars! Oh my!;
[D | R]
Top Five Songs I Didn't Get to Hear...
...because the surly blonde bartender at the Double Down unplugged the jukebox in order to listen to "Holy Diver."
1. The Clash, "Spanish Bombs"
2. The Ramones, "The KKK Took My Baby Away"
3. Link Wray, "Jack the Ripper"
4. Louis Prima, "Just a Gigolo"
5. Iggy Pop, "The Passenger"
Today's Top Five (tm) is for entertainment purposes only: please, no wagering.
{gc}
1. The Clash, "Spanish Bombs"
2. The Ramones, "The KKK Took My Baby Away"
3. Link Wray, "Jack the Ripper"
4. Louis Prima, "Just a Gigolo"
5. Iggy Pop, "The Passenger"
Today's Top Five (tm) is for entertainment purposes only: please, no wagering.
{gc}
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Photo of the Day...
...in what was an otherwise unsuccessful day of shooting in the Meatpacking District.
[D | R]
[D | R]
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Some Photos of That Day
Jamie Livingston took a polaroid a day from 1979 until his death in 1997... the website is a digital archive from the 6,000 photos he took around NYC over those 18 years. Really affecting:
Some Photos of That Day
Some Photos of That Day
Friday, October 10, 2008
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
newsy news
I wrote this story about Martian snow posted today on our news blog...
I got three poems accepted for publication in Drunken Boat!
Who's got ideas for halloween costumes?
{LM}
Monday, October 06, 2008
This Is How We Build a Place
Of all the records I've heard this year, there has been just one that has kept me bright, open, and, best of all, dancing: Antidotes, by Oxford-based Foals. Continuing the heritage of sharp, angular post-punk of Gang of Four and Franz Ferdinand (with some traces of Wire for good measure), Foals' focus is on the immediate pleasures that are centered in the hips. At the same time, Foals, anchored ever-so-steadily by drummer Jack Bevan, somehow manage to sound as serious (or just so) as their more cerebrally-minded predecessors. Now, what helps this band so much is the use of a horn section, the cutting tone of which serves as something more than an accent, works more than an afterthought; it's a shame, however, given the instrument's punchy nature, that the horns were essentially buried in the final mix under a hailstorm of guitar- and bass-lines.
While the criticism that Foals' music isn't new or even all that interesting might very well be true, there's alot to be said, I think, for reminding listeners that music can, and should, remain the safest escape route from "the lighthouse (that) is an accident."
I'm particularly fond of "Olympic Airways," "The French Open," "Cassius," and--fuck it--I'm just going to say that I'm all over this record.
*
Anyone with half of a brain cell--or at least those who don't entirely consume their political coverage from Fox News--who saw last week's vice-presidential debate understood that the victor, clearly, was Joe Biden. On matters ranging from foreign policy to the economy, Biden, unlike the "debater" standing a few feet away from him, answered the questions that were directed at him, and he held back some of the sharp tongue that has gotten him into trouble in the past. Madame Governor, on the other hand, with her faux-populist leanings, ready-made zingers, and cutesy winks at the camera, proved evasive and insincere, and stood as something of a puppet for McCain's speech writers. (What price, desperation?)
What I found most troubling is the idea, as Maureen Dowd pointed out so insightfully in her column, that to be part of the "elite" necessarily means something sinister, misguiding, as though what we need in Washington are four more years of raging incompetence and tomfoolery. Oh, and let me just point out that Palin wants the Vice-Presidency to be granted more power, a black-black move given that the era of the most dangerous vice-president is about to end.
*
Homeward bound...
While the criticism that Foals' music isn't new or even all that interesting might very well be true, there's alot to be said, I think, for reminding listeners that music can, and should, remain the safest escape route from "the lighthouse (that) is an accident."
I'm particularly fond of "Olympic Airways," "The French Open," "Cassius," and--fuck it--I'm just going to say that I'm all over this record.
*
Anyone with half of a brain cell--or at least those who don't entirely consume their political coverage from Fox News--who saw last week's vice-presidential debate understood that the victor, clearly, was Joe Biden. On matters ranging from foreign policy to the economy, Biden, unlike the "debater" standing a few feet away from him, answered the questions that were directed at him, and he held back some of the sharp tongue that has gotten him into trouble in the past. Madame Governor, on the other hand, with her faux-populist leanings, ready-made zingers, and cutesy winks at the camera, proved evasive and insincere, and stood as something of a puppet for McCain's speech writers. (What price, desperation?)
What I found most troubling is the idea, as Maureen Dowd pointed out so insightfully in her column, that to be part of the "elite" necessarily means something sinister, misguiding, as though what we need in Washington are four more years of raging incompetence and tomfoolery. Oh, and let me just point out that Palin wants the Vice-Presidency to be granted more power, a black-black move given that the era of the most dangerous vice-president is about to end.
*
Homeward bound...
Monday, September 29, 2008
Don't Gawk, Just Walk, Now Talk
Seeing Jim Jarmusch on the street in Soho the other day makes me want to see Down by Law again, with all those fabulous tracking shots of pre-Katrina New Orleans. I'd suggest it for movie night, but who knows when we'll have another one of those.
I sent my "Song for Nola" to the New Orleans Review, and they sent me back a nice small slip of cream-colored paper.
I can't tell if I'm still in a sort of emotional fog or if I'm just hungry.
Time to eat. Everyone be careful out there.
{gc}
I sent my "Song for Nola" to the New Orleans Review, and they sent me back a nice small slip of cream-colored paper.
I can't tell if I'm still in a sort of emotional fog or if I'm just hungry.
Time to eat. Everyone be careful out there.
{gc}
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Definition of the Day
Narcissism
-n
1. inordinate fascination with oneself; excessive self-love; vanity.
2. Psychoanalysis. erotic gratification derived from admiration of one's own physical or mental attributes, being a normal condition at the infantile level of personality development.
3. A psychological condition characterized by self-preoccupation, lack of empathy, and unconscious deficits in self-esteem.
4. the act of posting self-portraits, especially revealing ones, on websites open to all, especially ogling self-contained men who appreciate the "art" of perfect strangers.
-Syn: self-promotion, self-peeping, self-porn, self-worth
-See also: aesthetes, voyeurs, fantasizers, feminists
-n
1. inordinate fascination with oneself; excessive self-love; vanity.
2. Psychoanalysis. erotic gratification derived from admiration of one's own physical or mental attributes, being a normal condition at the infantile level of personality development.
3. A psychological condition characterized by self-preoccupation, lack of empathy, and unconscious deficits in self-esteem.
4. the act of posting self-portraits, especially revealing ones, on websites open to all, especially ogling self-contained men who appreciate the "art" of perfect strangers.
-Syn: self-promotion, self-peeping, self-porn, self-worth
-See also: aesthetes, voyeurs, fantasizers, feminists
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Signs and Portents
I found a Dell Paperback edition of Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac's From Among the Dead, the 1954 French mystery that Hitchcock used as the basis for Vertigo, at Westsider Books for three bucks.
This is a very good omen.
Hope everyone is taking care.
This is a very good omen.
Hope everyone is taking care.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Quote of the Day
No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. - T.S. Eliot, writing in Tradition and the Individual Talent
Monday, September 15, 2008
Finite Jest
I hate to say it, but nearly the first thing I thought when I heard that David Foster Wallace had hanged himself over the weekend was "Did he leave a footnote?"
I know, I know.
In other news, I have Richard Hawley's Coles Corner and Willie Nelson's Red-Headed Stranger in heavy rotation.
In other, other news... well, I don't have any other, other news. It was nice to see everyone on Saturday night.
{gc}
I know, I know.
In other news, I have Richard Hawley's Coles Corner and Willie Nelson's Red-Headed Stranger in heavy rotation.
In other, other news... well, I don't have any other, other news. It was nice to see everyone on Saturday night.
{gc}
Monday, September 08, 2008
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Solid Gold Beauty Unveiled
A £1.5m solid gold sculpture has been made of supermodel Kate Moss as part of a British Museum exhibition.
Entitled Siren, the 50kg statue was made by Marc Quinn, who described Moss as "the ideal beauty of the moment".
His previous work included the marble sculpture Alison Lapper Pregnant, which appeared in Trafalgar Square.
The gold artwork will be exhibited with statues by other contemporary artists, including Damien Hirst and Antony Gormley, at the central London museum.
Mr Quinn previously created a bronze sculpture of Moss in a yoga pose, which was painted white and entitled Sphinx.
The museum has only revealed a close-up section of the new statue, which is also thought to depict Moss in a yoga pose.
'Live up to image'
He also made Self, a bust of his own head created from eight pints of his frozen blood.
His statue of Ms Lapper naked, who was born with no arms and shortened legs, was on Trafalgar Square's fourth plinth for 20 months.
Describing the gold statue of Moss, Mr Quinn said: "I thought the next thing to do would be to make a sculpture of the person who's the ideal beauty of the moment.
"But even Kate Moss doesn't live up to the image."
The exhibition, entitled Statuephilia, will also feature 200 plastic skulls by Damien Hirst.
Antony Gormley's Case for an Angel 1, a smaller precursor to his Angel of the North sculpture which overlooks the A1 in Gateshead, will also go on display.
Statues by artists Ron Mueck, Tim Noble and Sue Webster will also appear in the exhibition.
Co-curator Waldemar Januszczak said: "The British Museum helped to make these artists what they are. Now they are seeking to return the favour."
The exhibition opens on 4 October.http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/london/7585440.stm
Pope labels crucified frog sculpture blasphemous
Italian museum board to decide future of Kippenberger artwork after official went on hunger strikeA sculpture in northern Italy depicting a crucified green frog holding a beer mug and an egg could be soon removed from display after Pope Benedict condemned it as blasphemous.
The board of the Museion museum in the city of Bolzano was meeting today to decide whether to comply with the wishes of the Pope and other opponents of the 1.3m (4ft) wooden sculpture, Reuters reported.
The work by the late German artist Martin Kippenberger is called Zuerst die Füsse (Feet First). The frog with its tongue hanging out is wearing a green loin cloth and is nailed through the hands and feet on a brown cross in the manner of Jesus Christ.
Museum officials in the Alto Adige region near the Austrian border said Kippenberger, who died in 1997, considered it a self-portrait illustrating human angst.
But Franz Pahl, the president of the regional government, was so enraged by the sculpture he went on hunger strike to demand its removal and consequently ended up in hospital during the summer.
"Surely this is not a work of art but a blasphemy and a disgusting piece of trash that upsets many people," he told Reuters before the start of the board meeting.
In a letter of support for Pahl, the Vatican said the sculpture "wounds the religious sentiments of so many people who see in the cross the symbol of God's love".
However, Claudio Strinati, a superintendent for Rome's state museums, told an Italian newspaper today that censoring the work would be wrong.
"Art must always be free and the artist should not have any restrictions on freedom of expression," he said.
Kippenberger's work has been shown at Tate Modern and the Saatchi Gallery in London, and the Venice Biennale. Retrospectives are planned in Los Angeles and New York.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/aug/28/italy?gusrc=rss&feed=artanddesign
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
In Which No One Gives Anyone the High Hat
So I'm having a cup of coffee at Edgar's Cafe on West 84th Street (Edgar Allen Poe Way), reading Colin Meloy's underwhemling entry into the 33 1/3 series, The Replacements' Let It Be, when I pause and look up to see, sitting opposite just a table away, the actor Gabriel Byrne, a rolled up Times of London in his mitt, in the midst of an intense discussion with a short bald guy in hipster eyeglasses. I could catch enough of the conversation to hear the lilt of Byrne's Irish accent, but not enough to really make out what he was talking about, as the acoustics of Edgar's resemble the cellar in which Montressor bricks up Fortunato in "The Cask of Amontillado."
Not a bad NYC celebrity sighting--it beats seeing a very weary and cranky Alan Alda trudging through Staples. Only later did I realize the literary synchronicity: I finished Fiona McCarthy's exellent biography Byron: Life and Legend two nights before, and had just finished the first canto of Don Juan the previous evening. Bryne of course played Byron in Ken Russell's ill-advised 1986 film Gothic. Odd to have spent two weeks musing on things Byronic and to then bump into an interpreter of George Gordon Noel, 6th Lord Byron.
Plus, Byrne is one of the highlights of Hal Wilner's 1997 tribute to Poe, Closed on Account of Rabies. Byrne reads "The Masque of the Red Death" with chilling efficiency. So it was nearly an NYC celebrity sighting in context.
Sadly, Byrne hasn't been in a particularly good movie since David Cronenberg's Spider (2002) and hasn't had a hit since The Usual Suspects (1995). I wonder if he was in town for the Coen Bros. retrospective at BAM. I think Miller's Crossing (still my favorite gangster film) was playing that very evening.
And here's the other odd connection: I own a poster for Miller's Crossing that's signed by Byrne, but because he signed it in black ballpoint, the signature is completely obscured by the background of autumnal forest that makes up that poster's top half. I was completely unaware of the signature, until one night the light hit that spot on the poster just so, for at least ten years.
Which saved me the trouble of asking for an autograph. Not that I would have asked in any case.
{gc}
Not a bad NYC celebrity sighting--it beats seeing a very weary and cranky Alan Alda trudging through Staples. Only later did I realize the literary synchronicity: I finished Fiona McCarthy's exellent biography Byron: Life and Legend two nights before, and had just finished the first canto of Don Juan the previous evening. Bryne of course played Byron in Ken Russell's ill-advised 1986 film Gothic. Odd to have spent two weeks musing on things Byronic and to then bump into an interpreter of George Gordon Noel, 6th Lord Byron.
Plus, Byrne is one of the highlights of Hal Wilner's 1997 tribute to Poe, Closed on Account of Rabies. Byrne reads "The Masque of the Red Death" with chilling efficiency. So it was nearly an NYC celebrity sighting in context.
Sadly, Byrne hasn't been in a particularly good movie since David Cronenberg's Spider (2002) and hasn't had a hit since The Usual Suspects (1995). I wonder if he was in town for the Coen Bros. retrospective at BAM. I think Miller's Crossing (still my favorite gangster film) was playing that very evening.
And here's the other odd connection: I own a poster for Miller's Crossing that's signed by Byrne, but because he signed it in black ballpoint, the signature is completely obscured by the background of autumnal forest that makes up that poster's top half. I was completely unaware of the signature, until one night the light hit that spot on the poster just so, for at least ten years.
Which saved me the trouble of asking for an autograph. Not that I would have asked in any case.
{gc}
Friday, August 22, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Boy Chucker
Adventures in American Capitalism presents...Things I Bought Yesterday:
1 copy of the Daily News: 50 cents
1 packet of extra-strength Excedrin: 75 cents
Total expenditures for Monday, August 11, 2008: $1.25
*
1 copy of the Daily News: 50 cents
1 packet of extra-strength Excedrin: 75 cents
Total expenditures for Monday, August 11, 2008: $1.25
*
Call me a romantic, a traditionalist, even a fool if you'd like, but I prefer my Morrissey songs to be full of melody, grandiose and sweeping melody without shame or restraint. And as much as I enjoy the pulverizing bass of Morrissey's new single, All You Need is Me, his best work--both as a solo musician and with the Smiths--has always taken advantage of pop music's jingle-jangle sensibility and love for restlessness that only melody can provide.
To be fair, though, Morrissey's most recent records have corrected some of the missteps that the singer took in the 90's (Southpaw Grammar, anyone?), which means that there is much delight to be had in tracks like "First of the Gang to Die" and "Irish Blood, English Heart." (The latter also relies upon rock'n'roll bombast.)
*
Don't you just hate it when things are just so painfully obvious? To wit:
To treat cyanide poisoning, use nitrites to oxidize hemoglobin methemoglobin, which binds cyanide, allowing cytochrome oxidase to function. Use thiosulfate to bind this cyanide, forming thiocyanate, which is renally excreted.
from First Aid for the USMLE Step 1 2008
*
Is it to much to ask for a decent, well-playing baseball team, or at least one that plays up to the expectations of its $200 million payroll?
[D | R]
To be fair, though, Morrissey's most recent records have corrected some of the missteps that the singer took in the 90's (Southpaw Grammar, anyone?), which means that there is much delight to be had in tracks like "First of the Gang to Die" and "Irish Blood, English Heart." (The latter also relies upon rock'n'roll bombast.)
*
Don't you just hate it when things are just so painfully obvious? To wit:
To treat cyanide poisoning, use nitrites to oxidize hemoglobin methemoglobin, which binds cyanide, allowing cytochrome oxidase to function. Use thiosulfate to bind this cyanide, forming thiocyanate, which is renally excreted.
from First Aid for the USMLE Step 1 2008
*
Is it to much to ask for a decent, well-playing baseball team, or at least one that plays up to the expectations of its $200 million payroll?
[D | R]
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
The Glory of Love
Aside from ace records by Spiritualized and Bonnie "Prince" Billy, there hasn't been all that much to listen to--until now at least. The newest from Stereolab is due out next month, and Primal Scream's tenth full-length is released tomorrow. I'll be forking some cash over to my local, friendly record store clerk very, very soon. Sizzle!
Stereolab - Chemical Chords - [4AD]
Primal Scream - Beautiful Future - [Warner Bros.]
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Prolific Mother Thanks God
ABBOTSFORD, British Columbia - A woman has given birth to her 18th child in British Columbia, making her the province's most prolific mother in 20 years.
Proud dad Alexandru Ionce said Saturday that his 44-year-old wife, Livia, gave birth on Tuesday. Their daughter Abigail weighed in at 7 pounds, 12 ounces.
"We never planned how many children to have. We just let God guide our lives, you know, because we strongly believe life comes from God and that's the reason we did not stop the life," said Alexandru Ionce.
The couple immigrated to Canada from Romania in 1990 and now lives in Abbotsford, British Columbia. Their 17 other children range in age from 20 months to 23 years old.
Ionce said he did not know if the couple would have more children. The family now has 10 girls and eight boys.
"We would have liked a boy to be even," he said. "We thank God all of them are healthy and happy."
Proud dad Alexandru Ionce said Saturday that his 44-year-old wife, Livia, gave birth on Tuesday. Their daughter Abigail weighed in at 7 pounds, 12 ounces.
"We never planned how many children to have. We just let God guide our lives, you know, because we strongly believe life comes from God and that's the reason we did not stop the life," said Alexandru Ionce.
The couple immigrated to Canada from Romania in 1990 and now lives in Abbotsford, British Columbia. Their 17 other children range in age from 20 months to 23 years old.
Ionce said he did not know if the couple would have more children. The family now has 10 girls and eight boys.
"We would have liked a boy to be even," he said. "We thank God all of them are healthy and happy."
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
framework: hull
soda fountain dry
iron lawn chairs
meld our myths
practice hiding life
alternatives to cures
massacre mind sects
buzzard's ear missing
attempts country song
weak bills fly
before the mast
plastic knives spar
erect sliding scales
fishing boat skeleton
baby penguin chest
hunger tread tire
iron lawn chairs
meld our myths
practice hiding life
alternatives to cures
massacre mind sects
buzzard's ear missing
attempts country song
weak bills fly
before the mast
plastic knives spar
erect sliding scales
fishing boat skeleton
baby penguin chest
hunger tread tire
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Interruptions
Poems have appeared or are forthcoming in tequila in a tea cup, Galvanized tub fires, midnight explosions, the spitting of dregs, Dreamweaver and basket cases, rhythmic screams in Prospect Park, bygones and bulwarks, the chandelier in the basement, the dollar bill on the counter, shots at the missing sun, the bouncing of sonic waves, your thumb on my wet glass, the stirring and the gathering, the stack of MGD bottles, the pool of urine and Jack, the daily double, the steel around her finger, the hyperlinks in the fence, the ocean classroom, dove semen, shampoo and conditioner, the cannibal and the quartet, the slate of the ear, the fat cross nestled in cleavage, where she lives with her dog and two cats, among others.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Black Dog
Here's an interesting piece by Joan Larkin that Sarah just forwarded to me.
Where are all those fabulous fireworks photos? The memory is already fading...
Where are all those fabulous fireworks photos? The memory is already fading...
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Weather Report by Tess Gallagher
The Romanian poets
under Ceausescu, Liliana
said, would codify opposition
to the despots in this manner: because
there was no gas and they were cold, everyone
was cold, all they had to do was write
how cold it is . . . so cold . . . and their
readers knew exactly what was meant.
No one had to go to jail
for that.
Liliana, in the dead of night
writing her poems
with gloves on.
I think I’ll take off my gloves.
It’s freezing in here.
There’s a glacier pressing on my heart.
From Dear Ghosts, by Tess Gallagher. All rights reserved. Copyright 2006.
under Ceausescu, Liliana
said, would codify opposition
to the despots in this manner: because
there was no gas and they were cold, everyone
was cold, all they had to do was write
how cold it is . . . so cold . . . and their
readers knew exactly what was meant.
No one had to go to jail
for that.
Liliana, in the dead of night
writing her poems
with gloves on.
I think I’ll take off my gloves.
It’s freezing in here.
There’s a glacier pressing on my heart.
From Dear Ghosts, by Tess Gallagher. All rights reserved. Copyright 2006.
Yes, But What Do You Do for a Living?
Well, this is what I used to do for a living:
Ghost Town Blues: Anthony Alston's Orphic Excavations
The check, as they say, is in the mail.
New York humidity has ruined me for the desert. I've got the mother of all sinus infections.
Did anyone go to the Mermaid Parade?
{gc}
Ghost Town Blues: Anthony Alston's Orphic Excavations
The check, as they say, is in the mail.
New York humidity has ruined me for the desert. I've got the mother of all sinus infections.
Did anyone go to the Mermaid Parade?
{gc}
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
No Good Deed Etc.
As a former journalist, I should know better than to talk to reporters. As this guy was talking to me, I knew precisely which quotes he would use, and correctly predicted the sniggering tone the story would take. I didn't think he would completely misunderstand the poem as well, but that should have been the most obivous prediction of all:
Poetic Justice Doesn't Get Much More Literal
Oh well.
I'm actually visiting Las Vegas for the next two or three weeks. Postcards are forthcoming.
{gc}
Poetic Justice Doesn't Get Much More Literal
Oh well.
I'm actually visiting Las Vegas for the next two or three weeks. Postcards are forthcoming.
{gc}
Monday, June 16, 2008
Fresh Platters
Here are a couple of records--including the newest by Supergrass--that are worth some of your precious time and money:
Supergrass - Diamond Hoo Ha - [Astralwerks/EMI; 2008]
Supergrass - Diamond Hoo Ha - [Astralwerks/EMI; 2008]
Band of Horses - Cease to Begin - [Sub Pop; 2007]
Choice traxxx include:
Band of Horses - "Is There a Ghost," "No One's Gonna Love You"
Supergrass - "Diamond Hoo Ha Man," "Ghost of a Man," "When I Needed You"
[D | R]
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Strictly for the Birds
As I was eating my lunch earlier today in a park just outside the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, I noticed a small bird just beyond my feet. I briefly considered throwing it a small piece of bread off the PB & J sandwich that LM had so kindly prepared for me, but thought against it. A few minutes later, I felt wings brushing up against my left hand, a sensation strange not only for its rarity, but also for its acute softness, quickly granted. I then looked down, again, at my feet, and saw that this same bird, a lark perhaps, had a sliver of bread in its beak. It then occurred to me that the avian interloper had just stolen a portion of a meal, so delicious and fresh, from its rightful owner. The bird, which much surely belong to a hitherto unknown species of animal prone to urban thievery, then flew into the waiting chasm of Trinity Place, where Alexander Hamilton must have called out to it from his grave.
*
The new EP by Brooklyn- and Chicago-based These Are Powers, Tarot Taro, suffers from ideas that are far too broad and loose, as though its creators were unable to agree on what chords to keep, on how to set their dirty impulses to tape (or Reason or whatever recording software the kids are using nowadays). But at least you can't say that their songs are devoid of spirit and drive; "Chipping Ice," for example, arguably the collection's best song, starts with an double-time snare drum pattern and just doesn't let up.
These Are Powers' abrasive energy, which can sound rather menacing, counts for plenty nowadays, whatwith positively dull bands like Low and Sigur Ros taking up precious space. The band, which features Pat Noecker (formerly of Liars) on bass, has previously released one full-length record, Terrific Seasons, which may or may not be terrific.
[D | R]
*
The new EP by Brooklyn- and Chicago-based These Are Powers, Tarot Taro, suffers from ideas that are far too broad and loose, as though its creators were unable to agree on what chords to keep, on how to set their dirty impulses to tape (or Reason or whatever recording software the kids are using nowadays). But at least you can't say that their songs are devoid of spirit and drive; "Chipping Ice," for example, arguably the collection's best song, starts with an double-time snare drum pattern and just doesn't let up.
These Are Powers' abrasive energy, which can sound rather menacing, counts for plenty nowadays, whatwith positively dull bands like Low and Sigur Ros taking up precious space. The band, which features Pat Noecker (formerly of Liars) on bass, has previously released one full-length record, Terrific Seasons, which may or may not be terrific.
[D | R]
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Transmigration
A few weeks ago, while waiting in LM's car, I turned on the radio, something I hadn't done in years. While running through signals of stations playing poor, mid-90's metal, alternative rock, and other sounds that only seem to exist on the far-left end of the dial, I heard a song done in the vallenato style, a type of folk music native to Colombia. I was instantly riveted, as though my brain was receiving a line through the aural conduit of my ancestral homeland. I've since discovered that the song, called "Eres" (Spanish for "you are"), is performed by Alejandro Fernandez, a Mexican pop singer. That last bit may not appear all that interesting, but I find it fascinating that there can be, in this world of light-speed communication, so many cross-cultural exchanges, so many opportunities for creativity to reinterpreted and reshaped.
The accompanying video, which has an overnight security guard going on a rampage of joy in an otherwise empty shopping mall, is also fun.
*
Perhaps it goes without saying, but human stupidity seems to know no bounds:
"Homosexuality...is the biggest threat our nation has, even more so than terrorism." - Sally Kern, Oklahoma State Representative, as quoted in Equality, the magazine of Human Rights Campaign.
*
Good night, and good luck...
[D | R]
The accompanying video, which has an overnight security guard going on a rampage of joy in an otherwise empty shopping mall, is also fun.
*
Perhaps it goes without saying, but human stupidity seems to know no bounds:
"Homosexuality...is the biggest threat our nation has, even more so than terrorism." - Sally Kern, Oklahoma State Representative, as quoted in Equality, the magazine of Human Rights Campaign.
*
Good night, and good luck...
[D | R]
Monday, June 09, 2008
Monday's Inferno
My friend Katy Lederer's new book of poetrty is coming out on BOA in October. Here's a link to the book's page.
I just had a poem accepted into the next issue of Rattle. That would be issue #30, which has a Cowboy/Western theme, though the poem they accepted is neither by nor about a cowboy (it does take place in the West, however).
Earlier today I had the worst bus ride since the final episode of M*A*S*H.
I just had a poem accepted into the next issue of Rattle. That would be issue #30, which has a Cowboy/Western theme, though the poem they accepted is neither by nor about a cowboy (it does take place in the West, however).
Earlier today I had the worst bus ride since the final episode of M*A*S*H.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Album of the Week
A different kind of folk/indie/Americana/roots music album for the end of days; its "Where Is the Puzzle?" is the most moving song I've heard all year. Highly recommended!
Bonnie "Prince" Billy - Lie Down In the Light - [Drag City]
The Assassination
It begins again, the nocturnal pulse.
It courses through the cables laid for it.
It mounts to the chandeliers and beats there, hotly.
We are too close. Too late, we would move back.
We are involved with the surge.
Now it bursts. Now it has been announced.
Now it is being soaked up by newspapers.
Now it is running through the streets.
The crowd has it. The woman selling carnations
And the man in the straw hat stand with it in their shoes.
Here is the red marquee it sheltered under.
Here is the ballroom, here
The sadly various orchestra led
By a single gesture. My arms open.
It enters. Look, we are dancing.
(June 5, 1968)
--Donald Justice
It begins again, the nocturnal pulse.
It courses through the cables laid for it.
It mounts to the chandeliers and beats there, hotly.
We are too close. Too late, we would move back.
We are involved with the surge.
Now it bursts. Now it has been announced.
Now it is being soaked up by newspapers.
Now it is running through the streets.
The crowd has it. The woman selling carnations
And the man in the straw hat stand with it in their shoes.
Here is the red marquee it sheltered under.
Here is the ballroom, here
The sadly various orchestra led
By a single gesture. My arms open.
It enters. Look, we are dancing.
(June 5, 1968)
--Donald Justice
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Quote of the Day
"When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses." - John F. Kennedy
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
A Race of Rhetoric
click here
I disagree that Clinton is a walkman and Obama is an iPod, but Dowd makes some interesting points about how she should have billed herself as the mother of change instead of the father of experience.
-LM
I disagree that Clinton is a walkman and Obama is an iPod, but Dowd makes some interesting points about how she should have billed herself as the mother of change instead of the father of experience.
-LM
Monday, June 02, 2008
Spoon June Moon Swoon
The teenagers who vandalised Robert Frost's cabin have received the ultimate punishment: a mandatory course in Frost's poetry.
Photos from my visit to the fabulous Telectroscope are available here.
Congrats again to everyone who has graduated, passed orals or had a poem published. Excelsior, True Believers!
{gc}
Photos from my visit to the fabulous Telectroscope are available here.
Congrats again to everyone who has graduated, passed orals or had a poem published. Excelsior, True Believers!
{gc}
Quote of the Day
"At least since Emerson and Whitman, there's a cult of experience in American poetry. Our poets, when one comes right down to it, are always saying: This is what happened to me. This is what I saw and felt. Truth, they never get tired of reiterating, is not something that already exists in the world, but something that needs to be rediscovered almost daily." --Charles Simic
Sunday, June 01, 2008
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