Me and Mr. Jones

Billy Paul, take note.

- "Me and Mr. Jones" by Amy Winehouse, from Back to Black (2006)

A Conversation

Taking breaks from this Romantic poetry homework.

"A Conversation"

iraq is the kindling we place
around our feet while mouthing a prayer:

dead aint never been more subtle
than when tucked into the back pages of the paper.

if only we could father our demise
and blend into history as action not feints and dips

instead of watching rumors
of torture and dead bodies grow into common knowledge,

and collateral damage become
what fills the space between death rates and our reaction. 

like dead aint never been more subtle
than when tucked into the back pages of the paper

and the stories of war heroes don’t still gather
like homeless men in the minds of my generation.

and the draft aint no more important
to us than kwame brown shooting his next jumper in italy

cause dead aint never been more subtle
than when tucked into the back pages of the paper

-Reginald Dwayne Betts, 2006

Fable of Flesh

after Giacometti’s Palace at 4 AM 

At 4 AM the bells
                             swallow their keys 
              and a spine swings in its cage.

If the woman is a dream 
                             what the spine dreams of
              warm balcony at the top of the tongue,

how many rooms does she bring?
                             Stories hung about her neck
              and waist like the iron weight 

of a dowry. Hair tightly pulled 
                             and a burlap dress, nevertheless 
              toothsome in shadows, statuesque.

The temple pauses on one foot
                             to listen to the deep between 
              breaths. Who knew a world 

of crutches and stilts awaits, 
                             a tilt just above sinking?
              The palace hears branches 

canticle in winter; the palace 
                             longs for Avignon in spring.
              The splintered aftermath—

an abstract of wood, glass, 
                             wire, string, and a pair 
              of wings stretched and pinned 

to the walls. Here we are flightless 
                             but we are not alone here 
              we are so thin.

- by Hadara Bar-Nadav, 2006

We're Cooking Quinoa

One day, I'll be so funny that someone will film me cooking dinner for one.

In this low-resolution video, several of my favorite things collide: David Lynch; low, ambient lighting; sitting outside telling stories; and quinoa. It's twenty minutes, ergo I don't encourage you to watch the whole thing. Unless you too love the above-listed things, which perhaps you do. I don't know your life.

That's all for today.

Why Go Out?

As the dregs of the semester grind away at everyone's motivation, I find myself reading more. This reading, more than anything, is propelled by a desire to procrastinate "productively." My astronomy problem set might not be started, but at least I'm challenging myself with this collection of William Blake poems. Right?

As one might infer, reading more has also meant that I'm staying in my room more. I haven't left the building yet today, choosing instead to clean, to stare at my ceiling, and to play musical instruments that I've no idea how to play.

This might not be entirely healthy, but my point is that everyone needs time alone. And if you're like me, you need a lot of it.

So it was serendipitous when I stumbled across this article by Sheila Heti. It's called "Why Go Out?" The entire article is hyperlinked in the title below, but I've included a few of my favorite excerpts. (Sorry, Ms. Heti, to bastardise your piece.)

Once I click "publish," I'm going to finish my astronomy homework and (eventually) make my way outdoors.

Maybe.

* * * * *

From "Why Go Out?" by Sheila Heti

For many years I have asked myself, Why do you spend time with other people? but I never really attempted to come up with an answer. I always believed I was asking myself a rhetorical question, but this week I thought I would try and find an answer, because a question you ask yourself a thousand times eventually deserves to be answered. 

And I figure if I know why I go out, I might feel less suspicious of myself for going out. I might criticize myself less. I might be able to look around a party without thinking, What a fool – why did you come – you should have stayed at home.

At home, you can wear your pyjamas. No one is going to snub you or disappoint you. 

I’m always super-conscious of how whenever I go out into the world, whenever I get involved in a relationship, my idea of who I think I am utterly collides with the reality of who I actually am. And I continue to go out even though who I am always comes up short. I always prove myself to be less generous, less charming, less considerate, not as bold or energetic or intelligent or courageous as I imagined in my solitude. And I’m always being insulted, or snubbed, or disappointed. And I’m never in my pyjamas. 

And yet, in some way, maybe this is better. Each of us...could suffer the pangs of withdrawal and gain the serenity of the non-smoker. We could be demi-gods in our little castles, all alone, but perhaps, at heart, none of us here wants that. Maybe the only cure for self-confidence and courage is humility. Maybe we go out in order to fall short… because we want to learn how to be good at being people… and moreover, because we want to be people.

Pompeii Am Götterdämmerung

Antonia's feeling lazy, so she's decided to revert to the effortless and share another song.

- "Pompeii Am Götterdämmerung" by The Flaming Lips, from At War with the Mystics (2006)

Keeping Me Awake

Classic.

-"Keeping Me Awake" by Tarkio, from I Guess I Was Hoping For Something More (1998); later re-released on Omnibus (2006)

Solitude

I just tried writing a really lengthy and self-important post about what solitude means and then I realized it was drivel so I stopped.

But basically, I think that solitude is a great, great thing. There is so much to be gained from spending time alone with oneself, and speaking personally, I am much happier when I'm able to have those moments alone than when I'm spending consecutive hours with others (even if those others are people I love and care about). Which is not to say that I don't love being around people I love, because I do. I simply feel more content and ordered when I can have sufficient time alone. That's basically the pared-down version of the huge long thought that was in my head.

And because I am me and can't state a thought without some musical association, here is a Grandaddy song:

- "Disconnecty," from Just Like the Fambly Cat, 2006