Poem: How to Be a Surrealist by Dean Young
Apr. 5th, 2012 11:07 amSleep well. A gland in the command
center releases its yellow hornet
to tell you you're missing the point,
the point being that getting smacked
by a board, gored by umbrellas, tongue-
lashed by cardiologists, bush-wacked
by push-up bras is a learning experience.
Sure, you're about learned up. Weren't
we promised the thieves would be punished?
Promised jet-packs and fleshy gardenias
and wine to get the dust out of our mouths?
And endless forgiveness? A floral rot
comes out of the closet, the old teacher's
voice comes out of the ravine, red-wings
in rushes never forget their rusty-hinged
song. Moon-song, dread-song, hardly-a-song
at all song. Let's ignore that call,
let someone else stop Mary from herself
for the 80th time. It's never really dark
anyway, not even inside the skull. Take
my hand, fellow figment. Every spring
we'll meet, definite as swarms of stars,
insects over glazed puddles, your eyes
green even though your driver's license
says otherwise. And yes, mortal knells
in sleepless hours, hollow knocks of empty
boats against a dock but still the mind
is a meadow, the heart an ocean even though
it burns. As long as there's a sky, someone
will be falling from it. After molting,
eat your own shucked skin for strength,
keep changing the subject in hopes
that the subject will change you.
center releases its yellow hornet
to tell you you're missing the point,
the point being that getting smacked
by a board, gored by umbrellas, tongue-
lashed by cardiologists, bush-wacked
by push-up bras is a learning experience.
Sure, you're about learned up. Weren't
we promised the thieves would be punished?
Promised jet-packs and fleshy gardenias
and wine to get the dust out of our mouths?
And endless forgiveness? A floral rot
comes out of the closet, the old teacher's
voice comes out of the ravine, red-wings
in rushes never forget their rusty-hinged
song. Moon-song, dread-song, hardly-a-song
at all song. Let's ignore that call,
let someone else stop Mary from herself
for the 80th time. It's never really dark
anyway, not even inside the skull. Take
my hand, fellow figment. Every spring
we'll meet, definite as swarms of stars,
insects over glazed puddles, your eyes
green even though your driver's license
says otherwise. And yes, mortal knells
in sleepless hours, hollow knocks of empty
boats against a dock but still the mind
is a meadow, the heart an ocean even though
it burns. As long as there's a sky, someone
will be falling from it. After molting,
eat your own shucked skin for strength,
keep changing the subject in hopes
that the subject will change you.
Poem: on Kindness, by Naomi Shihab Nye
Mar. 3rd, 2012 07:46 amKindness
by Naomi Shihab Nye
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.
by Naomi Shihab Nye
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.
QotD: Do Something
Dec. 13th, 2011 02:12 pmSomebody has to do something.
It's just incredibly pathetic
that it has to be us.
--Jerry Garcia
Walking is a man's best medicine
--Hippocrates
Both quotes swiped from this vid, entitled 23 and 1/2 hours. The author is a doctor who'd like to convince you that the best thing you can do for your health is limit your sitting and sleeping to 23.5 hours/day.
It's just incredibly pathetic
that it has to be us.
--Jerry Garcia
Walking is a man's best medicine
--Hippocrates
Both quotes swiped from this vid, entitled 23 and 1/2 hours. The author is a doctor who'd like to convince you that the best thing you can do for your health is limit your sitting and sleeping to 23.5 hours/day.
Book recommendation: The Guru Papers
Nov. 10th, 2011 10:37 amThe Guru Papers
Masks of Authoritarian Power
by Joel Kramer and Diane Alstad
This book was particularly formative for my thinking. I believe the first time I read it was about a decade ago, though it's been out longer. I've recently loaned it to a friend and every time I pick it up I run across another awesome thought. Basically it starts out looking at gurus, who they are and what they do, and why. The tail end of the book is about authoritarianism, and the nuts and bolts of how people fall prey to bosses that don't even pay them. It was partly this book that programmed me to be hyper-aware of the word "should". I'm ready to re-read it, soon as I get it back...and have the time.
I'm sad this video link broke. It was shot by Joey Thomas as he followed me down this super technical creek. It was his first time down. I knew where I was going.
( ran it two days in a row )
( ran it two days in a row )
Song Lyric: Falling Awake by Gary Jules
Nov. 20th, 2010 12:27 pmFalling Awake
-Gary Jules
( Eagle in the dark, Feathers in the pages, Monkeys in my heart, Are rattling their cages )
Movie: Cairo Time
Oct. 3rd, 2010 08:35 amWent to see this 2009 Canadian film, set in Cairo. It is a romance, gorgeous with rich textures and colors. The story is of an American woman left adrift in the city when her husband is unable to make a rendezvous. Her immersion in the culture there is both uncomfortable and glorious. I won't tell you much more, only that this is a beautiful film, and I highly recommend it. It brought me right back into my heart.
Swine Flu Alert Center
Apr. 28th, 2009 08:46 pmI've been using medscape to keep abreast of medical news...for a while now. They're good. Anyway, here's the swine flu alert center. I ran across an article that mentioned Medscape as possibly a good stock investment, too.
--4/28/09
--state and public health agencies authorized to widen the use of precise diagnostic test
--they want to find out for sure where this flu is and how fast it is spreading!
( more notes on swine influenza A (H1N1) )
--4/28/09
--state and public health agencies authorized to widen the use of precise diagnostic test
--they want to find out for sure where this flu is and how fast it is spreading!
( more notes on swine influenza A (H1N1) )
Mexican Food in Portland: El Palenque
Apr. 5th, 2008 07:15 pmThis place serves Salvadorian fare in addition to Mexican. El Salvador is only one country away from Mexico, down there in the skinny part of Central America. The lunch menu was limited and the offerings somewhat unfamiliar, but we were pleased with the flavors and the atmosphere.
( full evaluation using our Arizona Girls rating system yields 4.5 stars! )
( full evaluation using our Arizona Girls rating system yields 4.5 stars! )
The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada
Apr. 1st, 2006 10:54 pmA+ FANTASTICO! This is my new favorite movie, written by Guillermo Arriaga. It's a 2005 film, but we just got it in Flagstaff.
( more )
( more )
Crash won the Academy Awards
Mar. 6th, 2006 08:57 amCool! I think this is the first time that my favorite movie of the year actually won. If you haven't seen it yet, this is a classic. It's a difficult flick, painful to watch. The scene in which the white cop feels up the black woman while her husband cannot protect her had me as humiliated and enraged as any movie scene ever, so it's not entirely pleasant. The first time I saw it I cried in the parking lot after the movie. You who know me know I cry easily. But this movie is so very sad that it got inside me and stayed there. Crash vividly illustrates that every person is a mixed bag. We are all racist in some way, and we are all strong and good in some way. Even the vilest character in the movie has redeeming characteristics. Eventually, if you pay attention, you also understand the reasons for the vileness. There is always a reason. And the most upright and respectable character has viciousness and hatred. If you watch only the first half, you won't get it, because it takes time for all the characters to crash into each other, and for the story to play out.