“even this glass of water seems complicated now”
“Cassette Country“, David Berman
“Anyone can see a crisis and do something about it. But it takes a special breed to recognize a problem, wait until nothing can be done, and then express an opinon.”
Save the Dodo!
It’s never too late to take a stand after it’s too late.
–stephen colbert
The backs of cities, towns and planned communities face the train tracks, revealing broken-down, rusted cars, a school bus waist deep in grass, power lines, dead end streets, fencing–miles and miles of chain link new, old, overgrown with dead vines, downed by fallen trees, silver, green, rusted, with barbed wire–bits and crap like stained couches, old tires, fridge, futon frame, bottles, a periwinkle leather suitcase, a toilet seat, abandoned brick train stations.
There’s the space left for nature, wild unfeeling nature left alone after being ravished, healing or full of health, (depending on whether she’d been ravished or not or how long ago, critical). Such a small thing to do, and then there’s a golf course.
I will still be watching you watching him and I will be sad because I can’t stop this train or the scenery from going past.
WATCH THE VIDEO BEFORE YOU READ THIS watch it here>>
Sometimes the common ideas are done so well that it’s noteworthy. I love the way he doesn’t even make an attempt to make the surreal look real. At first, I thought the arms in the first scene would be another durga-like image. Having useful extra extremities is not unique. Think Gattaca’s 12-fingered pianist (yeah, when your grouped with Gattaca, you know you’re in the great creative innovators group), or Greek mythology’s Argus or other Eastern gods. But this image doesn’t attempt to make the arms life like. They move over and around and through each other in a way that can only be described as dreamlike–impossible, but somehow makes sense. It hits the tone of the music, exactly.
6 things:
- Mulberry trees have mulberries that taste like mild blackberries. They’re what silk worms eat, and what stains the sidewalk purple.
- Low moon, heavy orange, bright; three women gasping at beauty, together.
- There’s a huge floor to ceiling, wall to wall mirror at the entrance of my apartment. I noticed today that my thighs look strong and muscular.
- Two herons flying low over the Potomac.
- While I agonize over the pain of a heavy kayak on my shoulder, technology trumps and I get passed by a grandma with her kayak on wheels.
- (one more) me: rolling in my kayak! I can accomplish anything.
6 things
- in the crosswalk, baby’s shoe fell from the carriage. dad ran back and crouched down to it up, abandoning his charge for seconds. It was daddy’s babysitting day.
- dad walking two grown kids across the road by their elboes; he’d missed the few years when his kids learned to safely cross the street.
- people scattering to get out of the rain–oh! my armani!
- poor woman, face petrified in humiliation, her wet white t-shirt revealing a sexy teal bra.
- rain so hard, so wet, it fought against me (i won).
- budding lilies among the weeds.
en·co·mi·um [en-koh-mee-uh
m] –noun, plural -mi·ums, -mi·a [-mee-uh]
a formal expression of high praise; eulogy: An encomium by the President greeted the returning hero.
[Origin: 1580–90; < L < Gk enk
mion, equiv. to en- en-2 + kôm(os) a revel + -ion n. suffix]
Volume 54, Number 10 · June 14, 2007
Review
A Hero of Our Time
By Michael Kimmelman
The Worlds of Lincoln Kirstein by Martin Duberman
Knopf, 723 pp., $37.50
As the British dance critic Richard Buckle said, ‘Much as I liked [him] underneath, I began to dislike him on the surface.’ That’s at least better than the other way around. There was no moderation in Lincoln Kirstein’s reactions to others or in theirs to him. He was all hyperbole and paradox. He could be woundingly cruel and manipulative, but so transparent in his machinations that people seemed to find this quality almost endearing, as if he couldn’t help himself. He would turn against friends for no good reason and he terrified strangers. He was a glowering, ungainly giant in a dark suit with shaved head and jutting jaw–the familiar analogy was a Roman senator. But as the heir of a department store fortune his generosity as a patron was clearly boundless, like his insecurity. Nick Jenkins in The New Yorker, after Kirstein’s death in 1996, noted his contrary nature, saying Kirstein ’sought to be retiring, but he was all the more noticeable as he tried to be invisible.’ It was just as Martha Graham had said. ‘What I do not think you know,’ she told him, ‘is really how much people can and do love you, feel your warmth and your great dearness, which you try too hard to hide.’
look at that kitty fat, that sumptuous, lavish kitty fat.
i love this picture. look at that belly! it’s so fecund, rich, pregnant…the abundance of our extravagance…it’s huge! As if her belly will fall off her body like a drop of sweat.
6 things
- A white van, popping a u-y, disregarding my rights to the road, made me stop and ignored my curses
- 100 yards later, a shitty blue honda, popping a u-y, nearly hitting me, made me go into a tourette’s-like rage, screaming gawddamn it, maathurfudders! An older gentleman was startled, and gave me a look
- there’s an elephant in the room
- the kitty puked in front of a guest, how embarrasing!
- the price of rich-people’s art goes up in millions
- we sat in a room of glass, gov’t employees rubbernecking us
