Wow. I'm working on processing it. But, for right now, wow.
Wow. Amazingly complex letter format. The clues and the psychological exploration was all there for the unveiling. Wow. Not a single noticed break in point of view and SO well told that when the narrator couldn't give an interpretation of another character's reactions, the narrator gave enough detail because of his uncertainty about the situation that it gave the reader the clues for inference.
Wow. Nicely done. I like Charlie better than Holden too. So, I'll let it ferment for now.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Monday, February 13, 2006
The wistfulness and dissolution...
Elvis Kissed Me
T. S. Kerrigan
"Elvis kissed me once," she swears,
sitting in a neon dive
ordering her drinks in pairs.
Two stools down you nurse a beer,
sensing easy pickings here.
"Back in sixty-eight," she sighs,
smoothing back her yellow hair.
Teared mascara smears her eyes.
Drawing near, you claim you've met,
offer her a cigarette.
"Call me cheap," she sobs, "or bad,
say that decent men dismissed me,
say I've lost my looks, but add,
Elvis kissed me."
T. S. Kerrigan
"Elvis kissed me once," she swears,
sitting in a neon dive
ordering her drinks in pairs.
Two stools down you nurse a beer,
sensing easy pickings here.
"Back in sixty-eight," she sighs,
smoothing back her yellow hair.
Teared mascara smears her eyes.
Drawing near, you claim you've met,
offer her a cigarette.
"Call me cheap," she sobs, "or bad,
say that decent men dismissed me,
say I've lost my looks, but add,
Elvis kissed me."
The humor of it all...
This is Just to Say
William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
This Is Just to Say
Erica-Lynn Gambino
(for William Carlos Williams)
I have just
asked you to
get out of my
apartment
even though
you never
thought
I would
Forgive me
you were
driving
me insane
William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
This Is Just to Say
Erica-Lynn Gambino
(for William Carlos Williams)
I have just
asked you to
get out of my
apartment
even though
you never
thought
I would
Forgive me
you were
driving
me insane
Ah...the love of my life
Words, language, poetry - the ability to turn a phrase - the joy of an idea compressed into ink. I LOVE poetry. What do you mean, you don't read? You don't write? What DO you do with your time? I don't understand. But, Billy Collins does it so well.
Nightclub
You are so beautiful and I am a fool
to be in love with you
is a theme that keeps coming up
in songs and poems.
There seems to be no room for variation.
I have never heard anyone sing
I am so beautiful
and you are a fool to be in love with me,
even though this notion has surely
crossed the minds of women and men alike.
You are so beautiful, too bad you are a fool
is another one you don't hear.
Or, you are a fool to consider me beautiful.
That one you will never hear, guaranteed.
For no particular reason this afternoon
I am listening to Johnny Hartman
whose dark voice can curl around
the concepts of love, beauty, and foolishness
like no one else's can.
It feels like smoke curling up from a cigarette
someone left burning on a baby grand piano
around three o'clock in the morning;
smoke that billows up into the bright lights
while out there in the darkness
some of the beautiful fools have gathered
around little tables to listen,
some with their eyes closed,
others leaning forward into the music
as if it were holding them up,
or twirling the loose ice in a glass,
slipping by degrees into a rhythmic dream.
Yes, there is all this foolish beauty,
borne beyond midnight,
that has no desire to go home,
especially now when everyone in the room
is watching the large man with the tenor sax
that hangs from his neck like a golden fish.
He moves forward to the edge of the stage
and hands the instrument down to me
and nods that I should play.
So I put the mouth piece to my lips
and blow into it with all my living breath.
We are all so foolish,
my long bebop solo begins by saying,
so damn foolish
we have become beautiful without even knowing it.
Nightclub
You are so beautiful and I am a fool
to be in love with you
is a theme that keeps coming up
in songs and poems.
There seems to be no room for variation.
I have never heard anyone sing
I am so beautiful
and you are a fool to be in love with me,
even though this notion has surely
crossed the minds of women and men alike.
You are so beautiful, too bad you are a fool
is another one you don't hear.
Or, you are a fool to consider me beautiful.
That one you will never hear, guaranteed.
For no particular reason this afternoon
I am listening to Johnny Hartman
whose dark voice can curl around
the concepts of love, beauty, and foolishness
like no one else's can.
It feels like smoke curling up from a cigarette
someone left burning on a baby grand piano
around three o'clock in the morning;
smoke that billows up into the bright lights
while out there in the darkness
some of the beautiful fools have gathered
around little tables to listen,
some with their eyes closed,
others leaning forward into the music
as if it were holding them up,
or twirling the loose ice in a glass,
slipping by degrees into a rhythmic dream.
Yes, there is all this foolish beauty,
borne beyond midnight,
that has no desire to go home,
especially now when everyone in the room
is watching the large man with the tenor sax
that hangs from his neck like a golden fish.
He moves forward to the edge of the stage
and hands the instrument down to me
and nods that I should play.
So I put the mouth piece to my lips
and blow into it with all my living breath.
We are all so foolish,
my long bebop solo begins by saying,
so damn foolish
we have become beautiful without even knowing it.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Snow, snow, snow
We got snow...looks like about a foot. Of course it was on Saturday night, so I'm not sure how much school we'll get off, but I'm thinking we've got at least Monday, possibly Tuesday and Wednesday if the snow melts and kicks up lots of ice at night. Ah...the possibilities...
Sunday, February 05, 2006
A REAL winter, please...
Ok...it's February and last night we had a thunderstorm on top of a day of grey, dreary rain. I love the rain, don't get me wrong. And it was delightfully cozy and the fog is magnificently eerie. But it's February, as I've already pointed out for any who have missed that fact. It's supposed to be cold and dreary AND SNOWY! What the heck?
Now I'm hearing that it is to be a rough February. Bring it on!
But so far, this spitting and hissing that the sky is doing...it's just not right. I want a good solid blizzard here.
And that restlessness of January? I don't think it was just January.
Now I'm hearing that it is to be a rough February. Bring it on!
But so far, this spitting and hissing that the sky is doing...it's just not right. I want a good solid blizzard here.
And that restlessness of January? I don't think it was just January.
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