Okay, so I’ve been a little MIA for a spell. WELL, Ernie and I have been down under in Australia this past week for the 16th World Congress for Theatre for Young Audiences. I wanted to post a photo of us with a kangaroo, but I was having technical difficulties. Damn! Will try again later. Promise.
We’ve seen much theatre, attended various functions, and have had time with nature. I held a koala today. Coolness! MUCH more later with pix and writerly/theatre stuff to share.
Well, got that paper done and turned in. Wednesday night was my last official activity of the semester. My Creative Nonfiction class held a reading where we shared excerpts of our portfolio revisions. Great work, everyone! Drinks at the Oaken Bucket afterward (downstairs, non-smoking). Cool.
So, I never remember that April is National Poetry Month. I used to write much more than I do now. I like to think that I’ve carried a poetic voice into my prose and dramatic writing, though.I’m glad it is, because while at Barnes & Noble the other day, there was a poetry display table which included a book of essays on Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass: The Sesquicentennial Essays from 2005. Score for me and my final paper for Jake’s class. I’ll definitely be able to use it!
Some writers do a sort of NaNoWriMo in April by writing a poem a day for the month. That’s a cool idea, and maybe something to think about for next year. For this year, I thought about posting a high school poem a day or something, but I really need to save them for my high school poetry solo show. It’s a project that’s been on the back burner for about 10 years or so. Seriously. It’ll stay on one of the burners until it’s done. I do have a title:
Big Black Room
Dig the font? It’s “Batik Regular”. It’s rather inspiring, I think.
The pre-show mix CD will be all or mostly Cure. Big surprise, right? The biggest challenge of the piece will be deciding the balance between fiction and non-fiction. How much do I embrace the narrators of the poems, especially the more character oriented ones? Am I 15, 16, 17? Am I 33, 34, 35 (or however old I am when I finish the damn thing?) Is it even cool for a 35-year-old to dramatically share teen angst suicide poems? How much “real” stuff do I reflect with each poem? What’s the, like, story of it all?
I know the opening poem. It’ll be one of my faves, “Shut Up!” which I wrote one morning while half paying attention in Spanish 2 class (sorry, Ray!) Ray’s was my teacher, by the way, for those of you who aren’t Ray. Anyway. I was tired and everyone was annoying me. The words, I realize, are slightly more-than-inspired by The Cure’s “Babble,” a B-side to “Fascination Street.” It was also published. But as I eventually learned, not really. I entered it into a World of Poetry Foundation “contest” and was awarded an Honorable Mention. I think that’s what it was called. I couldn’t find it with a quick search. Anway, all “winners” were invited to include it in their anthology, which we had to pay for. I eventually realized that I was sucked into the world of vanity presses. I still have my book. It’s HUGE. Seriously. Crazily heavy thing that I can’t seem to get rid of. That book is my albatross. Heh.
I look forward to sitting down and really figuring out all the projects I can work on. This show will continue to stay with me. And I’ll tell you all about it right here. But please, do other things with your life while waiting for it. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of fulfillment.
While I’m here, I thought I’d mention that I heard Ron Padgett on A Prairie Home Companion this morning. He read from his latest poetry book, How to be Perfect. I may have to pick it up. That can be my way of supporting poetry for April. Yay.
It’s a beautiful day in the SB. Vienna Teng plays, and I’m feeling the call of my front porch. Be well.
In case there’s anyone out there who does not know already, The Cure is my ultimate favorite band in the universe and beyond. When they announced their North American tour for this past fall, my friend Nikki and I snatched up Main Floor tix for the Chicago show. But then they postponed the tour for spring. My worst fear came to fruition when the new Chicago date would not work for me. At all. Will be slightly out of town then.
BUT with the new schedule, they added more US dates. This morning, I hopped into the Cleveland pre-sale and snatched up a single ticket. Yeah, I’m going by myself. As much as I’d love to go with Nikki, she didn’t want to go to both, as she has to save money for stalking Duran Duran . My best friend, Chris, WILL be going to the Chicago show (we ended up getting different sets of tix based on limits). So, I’m like, I’ll go myself to Cleveland if I have to.
I can’t not go. Not an option. It’s been four years, and who the hell knows when the NEXT time will be. We’re still not sure when the next ALBUM will be out. Latest I heard was early June….
Ticketmaster kept spitting out Lower Level, which woulda been find and all. But with a little patience, I landed a 13th row ticket! 13th row for their 13th album. Left side, I think Porl’s side. I’m SOOO excited! Their music has been so integral to my being for almost 20 years (I was a pre-Disintegration era convert). Cure fans get obsessive. I’ll proudly own up to it.
This will be my 6th Cure show. 1992, 1996, 2000 (twice, including 2nd row in Detroit!), and 2004. Could’ve gone in 1989, but I was stupid and didn’t take my other friend, Chris, up on the offer.
Some day I may post deeper thoughts on various songs, albums, etc. Would be a cool personal project.
Currently listening to Mixed Up in celebration. I realized I never got around to ripping it into my iTunes. Crazy!
When reading through a book for class, with my pencil in hand ready to underline significantly meaningful words and passages (or make comments, , , etc.), I thoroughly dislike it when a word I want to circle is cut off at the end of the line by a hyphen and continues on the next. If it’s a word I want to focus on, I feel disjointed with the two half circles I am forced to create.
So, in the back of my mind, I’ve been pondering what to do with the “visual” section of the A/V Room. Since WordPress doesn’t have its own in-house photo album feature (that I know of….) like my old site has. I needed a plan. I knew I wanted something separate from my Flickr gallery. THAT much I knew.
Yesterday while procrastinating on homework, I decided to go with Picasa Web Albums. It makes sense since I’ve already downloaded the Picasa software to help with photo editing. The software and the site work well together, and I like the site’s features.
I’ve created two Picasa albums. First, rehearsal, promo, and backstage photos from my 2002 production of The Melted Lampshade.Second, my “Hall of Fame” which includes photos of me with various writerly, actorly, and musical peeps.
I’ve also linked to Joe’s Flickr set from the April 2006 photo shoot we did for my previous site. Thought I’d share both the good and the sun blinded with you this time around.
So, click on the A/V Room tab above to check ‘em out. I have others I can gather, but as spring break has come to a close, I should keep up with more homework this week.
So, up to this point in my life, my Walt Whitman experience has pretty much been limited to a section from 9th grade Honors English (a long time ago…) and several (!) viewings of Dead Poets Society (one of my all time favorite movies). The “barbaric yawp” scene between Robin Williams and a (teeny-tiny baby) Ethan Hawke still gives me shivers. Interestingly, said English class was taught by my own Mr. Keating of sorts, Mr. Bean. I haven’t watched the film in a while. I should. I have the video. This semester, for my 19th Century American Lit class, we read “Song of Myself” from Leaves of Grass (the original 1855 edition), including Whitman’s preface. Here now is very general, yet positive review: Amazing stuff!
For my response for class in January, I reflected on the lessons Uncle Walt (as Robin Williams called him in DPS) teaches us:
On the surface, what may seem to be self involved praise of himself and his profession as a poet, quickly dives into extremely inclusive territory. We are all poets. In the preface, he writes that we all have the power to think “thoughts [that] are the hymns of the praise of things” and that “the poet sees for a certainty how one not a great artist may be just as sacred and perfect as the greatest artist.”
Through poetry, he gives valuable life lessons. The preface passage which struck me most begins with “This is what you shall do.” He instructs us to “Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms….” Etc. He continues these lessons in the poem itself: “Have you reckoned a thousand acres much? Have you reckoned the earth much?” He tells us that embracing the great artist in all of us, “You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them yourself.” And later: “I think I will do nothing for a long time but listen, And accrue what I hear into myself and let the sounds contribute toward me.” In some ways these lessons remind me of a 19th century version of Sark’s “How to be an Artist.” She writes, “Make friends with freedom and uncertainty. Look forward to dreams. Cry during movies.”
While I was drawn to the personal and artistic lessons, one of my classmates wrote about howWhitman reminds us that these individual freedoms and expressions are so much tied to what it means to be an American, what it is that makes our democracy what it is, and how poetry was Whitman’s perfect way of expressing it. Unfortunately, I’m not sure our democracy has ever reached the status of what it could & should be in the eyes of Whitman. Have we truly listened to Uncle Walt? Have we all embraced all classes, professions, and races as he does in the poem?
For my recent mid-term paper, I continued my investigations into the poem. The assignment was to basically do a close read of a primary source with light to no research. Just come up with an argument and prove it with evidence from the text. While some of my classmates thrive on the research, I found it refreshing to just bond with the poem. Just me and Uncle Walt. The images of rugged masculinity and sexuality run rampant throughout the work. I know this isn’t real news–the poem’s been around–but I guess I’m finally just getting around to knowing this. These lines in Section 24 make me swoon:
Divine am I inside and out, and make holy whatever I touch or am touched from;
The scent of these arm-pits is aroma finer than prayer,
This head is more than churches or bibles or creeds.
My paper covered the connection in the poem between homosexuality and the divine. I think I found some pretty solid evidence (though I just turned in the paper, so we’ll see if my prof agrees…. Hi, Jake!) Of course, I admit to being slightly biased and perhaps reading into things what I’m looking for with little research about the period’s views on sexuality. Perhaps I can incorporate all that into my final paper.
I like that grad school really lets one build something. There’s a through line. Not that there wasn’t in undergrad–but lawd that was a long time ago. I guess it’s the freedom to really find something that interests us and then run away with it.
It’s been fun hanging out with Uncle Walt. I feel a connection with a literary and personal past that doesn’t happen with every author. Good times. I’ll have to keep up with it. You know, along with everything else. But it’s a start.
Okay, so while looking for the linked scene above, I found this clip which edits together footage of the film into a video for Liz Phair’s “Why Can’t I Breathe?”
Anyone who wants more homo erotic subtext to the film may have it here. It’s a good clip–and I give props to those who have the editing skills, time, patience, etc. for all that.
. My best friend, Chris, WILL be going to the Chicago show (we ended up getting different sets of tix based on limits). So, I’m like, I’ll go myself to Cleveland if I have to.
, etc.), I thoroughly dislike it when a word I want to circle is cut off at the end of the line by a hyphen and continues on the next. If it’s a word I want to focus on, I feel disjointed with the two half circles I am forced to create.
