(no subject)
Oct. 4th, 2005 12:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kleenexwomanHaven't had much to write about. Essay count: Three pages. Shall be writing pr0n fairly soon (except for one: Ben, I'm sorry, I simply can't bring myself to visualize Dobby/Hermione, much less write it.) Still taking requests.
Also, since I can't comment on the entry,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ghostgecko thank you for taking the time to recap those Discovery Health shows for me. (Note to the extremely squeamish: Don't do a Google image search for Treacher-Collins Syndrome, and particularly don't look at this page.)
For someone who spends half her creative life writing free-form poetry, I really don't read enough of the classics. I hate checking poetry books out from libraries, though. It seems unfair to the poems, reading them once and giving them back in two weeks. A poem should be read many times over as long a period as possible. Most of my poetry books are either appropriated from school or bought from readings I've gone to.
But in any case, "post something poetic." And I shall. (I'd post one of Chris Williams' poems about robots, but I believe he's still editing some of them.)
*
I went to see Matthea Harvey in the Baber Room last year. It was the best poetry reading I've been to, and not only because I immediately fell in love with her poems. She has an excellent reading voice and reads her poems in a softly dramatic style, and it was a treat to hear.
FIRST PERSON FABULOUS
by Matthea Harvey
First Person fumed & fizzed under Third Person’s tongue while Third Person slumped at the diner counter, talking, as usual, to no one. Third Person thought First Person was the toilet paper trailing from Third Person’s shoe, the tiara Third Person once wore in a dream to a funeral. First Person thought Third Person was a layer of tar on a gorgeous pink nautilus, a foot on a fountain, a tin hiding the macaroons & First Person was that nautilus, that fountain, that pile of macaroons. Sometimes First Person broke free on first dates (with a Second Person) & then there was the delicious rush of “I this” and “I that” but then no phone call & for weeks Third Person wouldn’t let First Person near anyone. Poor First Person. Currently she was exiled to the world of postcards (having a lovely time) -- & even then that beast of a Third Person used the implied “I” just to drive First Person crazy. She felt like a television staring at the remote, begging to be turned on. She had so many things she wanted to say. If only she could survive on her own, she’d make Third Person choke on herself & when the detectives arrived & all eyes were on her, she’d cry out, “I did it! I did it! Yes, dahlings, it was me!”
*
From another Baber Room reading. The book I typed this out from is called "Inside Unity House: The John-Paul Story." the reading itself wasn't that stellar, but the idea of a New Age semi-messianistic workshop based on the personality dynamics of the Beatles just amused the hell out of me.
excerpt from The Unity House Introductory Lecture and Workshop (1972)
by Eric Torgerson
Then there are four young men who made some records--
let's hope they make some more of them one of these days!
We study the way they came together once
to make a whole far greater than its parts--
witness the work that each has done on his own.
The shape of that whole is the key to Unity House.
John and Paul are perfect opposites,
the north and south of our internal compass:
John bones and angles, Paul luxuriant flesh;
John a tight mouth, Paul those liquid eyes;
reserve and eagerness, art and simple pleasure,
word-wit and curvaceous melodies.
They're crossed by George, philosopher-lead guitarist,
apt to lose his head among the stars,
and Ringo, drummer, both feet on the ground.
(When George led them off to study in India,
Ringo left--he didn't like the food.)
*
Yesterday was Rosh Hashanah, and I did absolutely nothing to remember that. Nevertheless, l'shanah tovah. May your year be as sweet as apples and honey.
Also, since I can't comment on the entry,
ghostgecko thank you for taking the time to recap those Discovery Health shows for me. (Note to the extremely squeamish: Don't do a Google image search for Treacher-Collins Syndrome, and particularly don't look at this page.) For someone who spends half her creative life writing free-form poetry, I really don't read enough of the classics. I hate checking poetry books out from libraries, though. It seems unfair to the poems, reading them once and giving them back in two weeks. A poem should be read many times over as long a period as possible. Most of my poetry books are either appropriated from school or bought from readings I've gone to.
But in any case, "post something poetic." And I shall. (I'd post one of Chris Williams' poems about robots, but I believe he's still editing some of them.)
*
I went to see Matthea Harvey in the Baber Room last year. It was the best poetry reading I've been to, and not only because I immediately fell in love with her poems. She has an excellent reading voice and reads her poems in a softly dramatic style, and it was a treat to hear.
FIRST PERSON FABULOUS
by Matthea Harvey
First Person fumed & fizzed under Third Person’s tongue while Third Person slumped at the diner counter, talking, as usual, to no one. Third Person thought First Person was the toilet paper trailing from Third Person’s shoe, the tiara Third Person once wore in a dream to a funeral. First Person thought Third Person was a layer of tar on a gorgeous pink nautilus, a foot on a fountain, a tin hiding the macaroons & First Person was that nautilus, that fountain, that pile of macaroons. Sometimes First Person broke free on first dates (with a Second Person) & then there was the delicious rush of “I this” and “I that” but then no phone call & for weeks Third Person wouldn’t let First Person near anyone. Poor First Person. Currently she was exiled to the world of postcards (having a lovely time) -- & even then that beast of a Third Person used the implied “I” just to drive First Person crazy. She felt like a television staring at the remote, begging to be turned on. She had so many things she wanted to say. If only she could survive on her own, she’d make Third Person choke on herself & when the detectives arrived & all eyes were on her, she’d cry out, “I did it! I did it! Yes, dahlings, it was me!”
*
From another Baber Room reading. The book I typed this out from is called "Inside Unity House: The John-Paul Story." the reading itself wasn't that stellar, but the idea of a New Age semi-messianistic workshop based on the personality dynamics of the Beatles just amused the hell out of me.
excerpt from The Unity House Introductory Lecture and Workshop (1972)
by Eric Torgerson
Then there are four young men who made some records--
let's hope they make some more of them one of these days!
We study the way they came together once
to make a whole far greater than its parts--
witness the work that each has done on his own.
The shape of that whole is the key to Unity House.
John and Paul are perfect opposites,
the north and south of our internal compass:
John bones and angles, Paul luxuriant flesh;
John a tight mouth, Paul those liquid eyes;
reserve and eagerness, art and simple pleasure,
word-wit and curvaceous melodies.
They're crossed by George, philosopher-lead guitarist,
apt to lose his head among the stars,
and Ringo, drummer, both feet on the ground.
(When George led them off to study in India,
Ringo left--he didn't like the food.)
*
Yesterday was Rosh Hashanah, and I did absolutely nothing to remember that. Nevertheless, l'shanah tovah. May your year be as sweet as apples and honey.
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-04 04:54 am (UTC)Cause I'm really confused now...
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-04 05:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-04 05:04 am (UTC)I can't write it! I'm too busy writing SiaC! *mirthful giggle*
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-04 05:18 am (UTC)That poor baby. You know, if you say not to look at something, it has to be done. Why do you think they ban books? ;) Cuz they're such good reads. ...okay, that was cheesy.
I keep thinking of your hair in those pigtails. So cute. ...I'm shutting up now.
See you Wednesday!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-04 05:21 am (UTC)...does it make you want to, um, SPEW?
*g, d, & r*
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-04 09:14 pm (UTC):D
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-04 11:01 am (UTC)B: Today is Rosh Hashanah, it started last night at sunset and goes until tomorrow at sunset.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-04 09:15 pm (UTC)B: Damn, really? I can never tell without Grandma Debbie around to remind me.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-04 01:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-04 09:16 pm (UTC)(When I get back to Dad's house I just know I'm going to spend half the day on the couch watching Discovery Health. My god, if they show things like this all the time...)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-04 05:10 pm (UTC)Of course you knew I was going to check out that link, because you told me not to check out that link. I'm not easily squeamish though. All I can think is that girl is not going to have a terribly easy life, and I hope the surgeries yet to come for her will improve her quality of life to the maximum extent possible. What a crappy syndrome. (Unlike all those super fun syndromes people get diagnosed with.)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-05 08:42 pm (UTC)Rosh Hashanah, I never got. Even as a kid I understood instinctively that the desert shepherds way back when had goofed when they set themselves upon a lunar calendar. It's terribly vestigial. Still, there's good food to be had. (My dad called me up the other day, very weird, asking for all sorts of forgiveness for all the familial shit we've had through the years. Also invited me to attend services at the Birmingham Temple. "No thanks," sez I, because that house of the unholy tripped me up but also awakened me: they did away with God, and started worshipping only wine, Wine, money, and the self. And that was not a good thing. The balance needed to be tipped, mayhaps, but it was done in an over-the-top way. At any rate -- ah yes, apples, challah, and honey. Makes a damned good sandwich.)