I can't decide if this is a final clamping down
a desperate suture on the main artery
if there is no outrage
the tree bare
shake but nothing to show for
the still air.
Tunnel into the dirt
to locate the roots
but the act is now
distant archeology
your pockets of treasures
sown all together
crinkled and smudged
(but no less beloved).
An Intimacy is extinguished
when an anguish is razed
before and after,
initiate and haze,
these airy tumbleweeds
a taupe equanimity
another member
for this deadened sorority.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Between 6pm and 8:30pm
I had an unscheduled dinner with an uninvited man who is an acquaintance of an acquaintance who told me that he is writing a book on sports nutrition;
is a medical doctor completing his residency at a prestigious hospital;
is a Hare Krishna devotee;
is a mystic;
is getting into television and radio;
[At this point, the acquaintance who wanted nothing to do with the acquaintance we were seated with has deserted us for the night.]
is able to leave his body at will during meditation (he goes to the astral plane - I've heard it's nice there);
is starting a non profit where he will take in food, prepare it, and homeless and poor will come and eat
Me: "Oh, so, like a soup kitchen."
Him: "No, I definitely wouldn't call it that."
Me: "Right."
Him: "A fellow devotee claims that once the Krishnas take in food and prepare it, it becomes sanctified, blessed, and has a cleansing effect when you eat it."
Me: "So it's like an inadvertent spa treatment."
Him: "Sort of."
Me: "As a medical doctor, do you believe in the existence of sanctified food that cleanses you because it is sanctified?"
Him: "Yes, because I've been cleansed...I'm also in sales and marketing."
Me: "I'm not surprised."
Him: "I sell Amway. Have you ever heard of it?"
Me: "Um-hm."
Him: "Do you think sales is evil?"
Me: "Depends on what you sell. I don't care enough about what people buy, so I would be a horrible sales person."
Him: "Well, I used to not care either. But then I took some courses, 2 years worth, and now I'm completely brainwashed...."
Me: "....by the Krishna's."
Him: "No. By Amway."
And scene.
I was corralled into this person's universe outside of a contemporary performance show where a troupe of dancers in intricate masks and costumes portrayed a beating, a rape and the stages of recovery and survivorship. All in blacklight. Set to modern music. After the show one of the dancers explained how this was actually her personal story.
The quality and magnificence of the art at the show far exceeded the fantastical nature of the conversation after it.
is a medical doctor completing his residency at a prestigious hospital;
is a Hare Krishna devotee;
is a mystic;
is getting into television and radio;
[At this point, the acquaintance who wanted nothing to do with the acquaintance we were seated with has deserted us for the night.]
is able to leave his body at will during meditation (he goes to the astral plane - I've heard it's nice there);
is starting a non profit where he will take in food, prepare it, and homeless and poor will come and eat
Me: "Oh, so, like a soup kitchen."
Him: "No, I definitely wouldn't call it that."
Me: "Right."
Him: "A fellow devotee claims that once the Krishnas take in food and prepare it, it becomes sanctified, blessed, and has a cleansing effect when you eat it."
Me: "So it's like an inadvertent spa treatment."
Him: "Sort of."
Me: "As a medical doctor, do you believe in the existence of sanctified food that cleanses you because it is sanctified?"
Him: "Yes, because I've been cleansed...I'm also in sales and marketing."
Me: "I'm not surprised."
Him: "I sell Amway. Have you ever heard of it?"
Me: "Um-hm."
Him: "Do you think sales is evil?"
Me: "Depends on what you sell. I don't care enough about what people buy, so I would be a horrible sales person."
Him: "Well, I used to not care either. But then I took some courses, 2 years worth, and now I'm completely brainwashed...."
Me: "....by the Krishna's."
Him: "No. By Amway."
And scene.
I was corralled into this person's universe outside of a contemporary performance show where a troupe of dancers in intricate masks and costumes portrayed a beating, a rape and the stages of recovery and survivorship. All in blacklight. Set to modern music. After the show one of the dancers explained how this was actually her personal story.
The quality and magnificence of the art at the show far exceeded the fantastical nature of the conversation after it.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
A Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Situation ~ No. 1
The premier of the 'WTF' series. To qualify, things must strike a hilarious or ludicrous chord. For your amusement, edification, or as a cautionary tale. Or all three.
Iggy Pop and his dummy yuk it up selling car insurance in a commercial. *
Iggy Pop and his dummy yuk it up selling car insurance in a commercial. *
From self-mutiliating rock-n-roll dervish to advocate of lower premiums and great coverage .
I so want one of these. Sitting magnificently in my office chair in my stead while I go see The Hurt Locker.
*Thanks to stereogum.com which posted this freeze frame.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Don't Fix My Smile, Life Is Long Enough
Since imitation is the sincerest form of flattery (is it sincere, or just desperate?), I'm hoping the Freelance Whales don't mind that I five-fingered this post's title from a lyric in their amazing song, Generator ^ Second Floor. And they shouldn't, cuz I'm doing it to pimp them hard, right here, right now.
If Death Cab for Cutie, Ra Ra Riot, M. Ward, Grey Eye Glances and the synthesizer guy from Depeche Mode circa 1983 (see album Construction Time Again) got together to bake a cake to welcome the new neighbor to the 'hood, and if that cake had been decorated with silly squiggles of Vampire Weekend and topped with a folk-inspired candle, that cake would be Freelance Whales. And there would be impolite swipes in the frosting before you even cut it, cuz its charmingly good.
If Death Cab for Cutie, Ra Ra Riot, M. Ward, Grey Eye Glances and the synthesizer guy from Depeche Mode circa 1983 (see album Construction Time Again) got together to bake a cake to welcome the new neighbor to the 'hood, and if that cake had been decorated with silly squiggles of Vampire Weekend and topped with a folk-inspired candle, that cake would be Freelance Whales. And there would be impolite swipes in the frosting before you even cut it, cuz its charmingly good.
The whole album is a lovely little meet and greet, and you want to wrap the band, their watering can, weird breathalyzer instrument I can't name, glockenspiel and all, in your pocket. In their song, Hannah, singer Judah politely asks 'Do me this solid if you would pretty lady, grab a martini and meet me on the balcony. I prepared a light show, you could fake a melody, we argue over where and when the cymbal hits should be....and if you're partial to the night sky, if you're vaguely attracted to rooftops...'
Why, I never thought you'd ask. Yes, yes, and yes.
Thus I pimp mightily the Whales' release, Weathervanes, but I also pound my chest to display a certain musical dominance. Me and a friend discovered them long before they became "album of the week" on the vanguard alt radio station we rely on. And when I heard the "album of the week" news wafting through my car speakers last Sunday, my rejoinder shot out, a cannonball of smugness: "I got to them first, fuckers!"
And though the cover album art looks like a cross-stitch pattern your great aunt bought for you when you were 8 and still following the Mennonite faith, there is something sublime about a backstory whereby a band that just started playing in late 2008 on street corners and subway stops can now transport you from the comfort of your very own ipod. Joyfully. Effortlessly.
What makes you pound your musical chest? Give it up!
Friday, January 1, 2010
A Talisman for 2010, Philadelphia Style
There's something inherently redeemable about wild abandon. And every year, the city of Philadelphia redeems - yes, redeems itself hosting the Mummer's parade on New Year's Day.
Officially in its 109th year, it offers the full spectrum: breathtaking, intricate costumes, props and floats; skilled music, dance and acting performances; gleeful foolishness; warmhearted public ambassadorship; profuse public drunkeness and unbridled fuckery.
In short, it offers the total package of art and entertainment.
For no charge.
On the street.
I daresay, it's magnificent.
The Mummer's first divisions - the comics, the wenches - these folks solidly encompass the latter half of the things I listed above. (Mostly) Men in garish theme dresses, painted beyond recognition, clutching Bud Lights and each other, dancing in hapazard circles down the street with parasols.
When you see it, you forget if you've had an unremarkable year. You feel, despite yourself, that this is a good omen, a best possible start. Woe as you are and jaded though you may be, who can possibly feel anything other than amusement when this guy's coming at you?
Officially in its 109th year, it offers the full spectrum: breathtaking, intricate costumes, props and floats; skilled music, dance and acting performances; gleeful foolishness; warmhearted public ambassadorship; profuse public drunkeness and unbridled fuckery.
In short, it offers the total package of art and entertainment.
For no charge.
On the street.
I daresay, it's magnificent.
The Mummer's first divisions - the comics, the wenches - these folks solidly encompass the latter half of the things I listed above. (Mostly) Men in garish theme dresses, painted beyond recognition, clutching Bud Lights and each other, dancing in hapazard circles down the street with parasols.
When you see it, you forget if you've had an unremarkable year. You feel, despite yourself, that this is a good omen, a best possible start. Woe as you are and jaded though you may be, who can possibly feel anything other than amusement when this guy's coming at you?
It is good not only because it's glee busking you in the face, or because a subset of the populace not especially trained to entertain you, is in fact, letting down their guard to entertain you....but because there's beauty in the tradition of it, in simply persisting.
Mini-you's learning to walk the walk.
It's all the more delightful when the tradition is carried out not because of religious dogma, family dysfunction, social mores or self-importance, but instead is followed because it produces fellowship and joy (and gleeful foolishness, warmhearted public ambassadorship, public drunkeness and unbridled fuckery.)
So while I struggled this past week with prioritizing all the things I resolve not to do (take things too serious, arrive late, act like an asshat) and all the things I now resolve to start (being more brave, opening up emotionally, flossing regularly), I took a second to think about the unbroken things that I already do, the traditions, if you will ...the things that, net-net, are just fine already. And for a shiny, cold, Broad Street moment, it was all right.
Thanks, you's Mummers.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Merry Christmas, Really.
To my legions of readers out there, may you have the happiest of Christmases. Really, the happiest one EVER. And why not? Why save the best for next year?
The happiest, whereby your feeling of joy surprisingly tumbles out of you, faster than you can identify it.
The happiest, whereby your contentment is so strong that you feel you need nothing except for the very moment you are living in.
The happiest, where the things that might ordinarily drive you batshit float on past in a bubble of immunity.
Where you get your very first actual follower of your blog. (grins silly)
Whereby the breaths ghosting from your child's mouth against your neck feels like heaven.
Where you stay plastered in the hug of a loved one a second longer than normal, long enough for your body to register the thrumming heartbeat of another, their life just a bit closer to yours, and you feel less separate.
Where you find the humor and wonder in being alive.
The happiest EVER.
Thanks for reading.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Adventures in Awkwardness
WARNING: this is unreservedly TMI. If you think ignorance is bliss, you might want to skip it. Don't say I didn't tell you.
"Is there anything you're particularly concerned about today that you need the doctor to know?"
"Err...well, I guess I need the doctor to be aware that I have this birthmark on the outer area of a private part that I guess he should, ummm, really kinda know about." Private part? You're still 12 in the brain aren't you?
The nurse absentmindedly muttered, all the while typing viciously into her portable laptop "Really concerned about private part. Ok."
What is she typing? Is she facebooking the other nurses to report that I'm a big dork that can't bring myself to say the word? That I request my male dermatologist, who's exactly my age, whose kids go to my kids' school and whom I glimpse nearly every other day that I need him to look at my hoo-ha? "Well, no, not exactly, its just that, um, I mean, I have this mark down there and I know that if a mark appears not due to sun exposure it should be seen, so I mean, I don't know, I just said it to umm, give fair warning." Dork. You're warning the doctor via his nurse that he may have to look at your lady parts. Its not Hiroshima, for fuck's sake.
"OK, we've been warned." And with a bemused expression, she exits.
Doc enters, proffers a cheery greeting and quickly leans into me for a light kiss on my cheek.
Have I just arrived to a dinner party? I'm so confused.
We then proceed to talk about the usual things, this is a Doc that likes to know his patients: he's genuine and friendly, so we talk about the things that tie us - the mutual friends we have, the kids, the school, the work I do, the fact we both often pick up our kids... I do not know him really, but I know the universe in which he resides. Still, he's just my age, he's only my dermatologist and I'm basically all but naked except for bra and underwear and clutching this thin blue sheet, and
Shit, I forgot to take off my underwear.
"So, we're going to do a basic skin check today and I understand you have an...area that we have not looked at before that you need to have looked at."
I nod. Oh my...he's being as obtuse as I am.
We start out simple: arms, shoulders, back, now around the bra, now lower...finally
"So, now we need to look at one more thing, right?" Is that a faint drumroll in the background?
"Right, yes, I'm sorry."
"Oh, its certainly fine. Don't be sorry."
And suddenly I'm transported to the terrible skin check experience of 2006, where, a few months after my pregnancy a small mark appeared just below my left nipple. I shamefacedly admitted this when he asked there was anything that he needed to check that was covered by my bra....so I pulled it down to show him, prudently covering the offending nipple that bordered the mark when he said, "I'm sorry, I really am, but I need to see the whole nipple for a second." and I released it, and a second later, I was duly covered and we'd moved on, but this...I suddenly realize there's a pause in the room, and I'm back, folks....
"Right, yes, I'm not sorry per se, but you know, I mean, I just, I felt it was better to be...
"...safe than sorry. Yes, it is. Especially in areas not hit by sun exposure. Now, do you need another person in here while we do this?"
Is this a trick question? Do I NEED another person? If I say yes, is it a signal I don't trust him? If I say no, will the dark recess of his brain wonder if I'm a tart that just wants to flash him?
"Oh, no, its fine. It will just take a second." comes my confident reply. Faker. Exhibitionist tart.
"Well then...." he says gently. Steps back, waits.
"Oh, yes, right. Umm. I kept on my underwear. I don't know why. I just need to take them off. Wait one second. Sorry." Word vomit! Cease and desist!
I quickly stand up on the foot rest of the examining table and without looking at him I pull down my modest light blue bikini underwear that I donned specifically for thisexhibition expedition today. And for a split second I look at the blue bundled bunch in my right hand. What do to with it? Do my panties stay here, clenched in my paw like a winning lottery ticket for the duration? No! That's weird. And without a second thought, I toss them into the air, across the examining room, with panache. It expertly lands on the chair in the corner. Plop! Taaa-Daaah! Oh yes, that little display much improves this situation. What the fuck are you doing? Silence briefly fills the room. Is he shocked that I just sailed my undies across the room? I know I am.
"Well, um, so, just right here, on the left, its..." And I'm trying to cover up and reveal at the same time. And he's bending down and craning his neck and sort of holding up his index finger near the area in question, as if to trace an outline of it and then I realize, panicked, his fingers are bare. No! What?
Quickly he speaks, now Captain-Obvious-meets-Doctorly-Noises "Ahh, yes, right, I see, right, well, there it is, its got a slightly irregular shape, its...wait one second, I just want to measure this.."
Another lumpy second passes between us. He quickly measures, careful not to touch me, and then cranes his neck once more for a second look and pronounces it good. "You need to know that areas like this not exposed to sun need to be watched. And I think that we need to just do a check once year to make sure its not undergoing any changes." My face slides. I think he notices. "...or maybe once every other year" he amends further "...or if any changes take place."
He leaves, instructing me to dress, and gets me a sample he mentioned. I hurriedly dress, and he knocks earlier than I expect.
"Wait, just one second.." I pull quickly button my pants and pull my tshirt over my head. "You can come in now."
"Oh, my gosh, I'm sorry! I just didn't want to walk in on you too early. I didn't mean to... " he trails off, averting his eyes as I now adjust my sweater over my t-shirt.
Umm, not 2 minutes ago your face was about 5 inches from my oonie, so I'm not terribly concerned about me putting on a second shirt in front of you.
"Here's the samples, you should just put this on once a day and let me know if that doesn't improve the dry skin. It was great seeing you. Take care of yourself." Smiling, he leans, clasps my left shoulder, and places another very faint kiss on my cheek. Why do I feel like this was some experimental form of a date? If so, do I still owe my co-pay?
Not seven hours later, I see what could possibly be him coming to pick up kids at the school. I bend down to pretend to tie the non-existent lace of my shoe, passing the time, and wonder about how this small world makes me feel both safer, because we know who the players are and we're all invested, and then, at other times, utterly exposed.
What is your most awkward moment of 2009? It seems I got mine in just under the bell.
"Is there anything you're particularly concerned about today that you need the doctor to know?"
"Err...well, I guess I need the doctor to be aware that I have this birthmark on the outer area of a private part that I guess he should, ummm, really kinda know about." Private part? You're still 12 in the brain aren't you?
The nurse absentmindedly muttered, all the while typing viciously into her portable laptop "Really concerned about private part. Ok."
What is she typing? Is she facebooking the other nurses to report that I'm a big dork that can't bring myself to say the word? That I request my male dermatologist, who's exactly my age, whose kids go to my kids' school and whom I glimpse nearly every other day that I need him to look at my hoo-ha? "Well, no, not exactly, its just that, um, I mean, I have this mark down there and I know that if a mark appears not due to sun exposure it should be seen, so I mean, I don't know, I just said it to umm, give fair warning." Dork. You're warning the doctor via his nurse that he may have to look at your lady parts. Its not Hiroshima, for fuck's sake.
"OK, we've been warned." And with a bemused expression, she exits.
Doc enters, proffers a cheery greeting and quickly leans into me for a light kiss on my cheek.
Have I just arrived to a dinner party? I'm so confused.
We then proceed to talk about the usual things, this is a Doc that likes to know his patients: he's genuine and friendly, so we talk about the things that tie us - the mutual friends we have, the kids, the school, the work I do, the fact we both often pick up our kids... I do not know him really, but I know the universe in which he resides. Still, he's just my age, he's only my dermatologist and I'm basically all but naked except for bra and underwear and clutching this thin blue sheet, and
Shit, I forgot to take off my underwear.
"So, we're going to do a basic skin check today and I understand you have an...area that we have not looked at before that you need to have looked at."
I nod. Oh my...he's being as obtuse as I am.
We start out simple: arms, shoulders, back, now around the bra, now lower...finally
"So, now we need to look at one more thing, right?" Is that a faint drumroll in the background?
"Right, yes, I'm sorry."
"Oh, its certainly fine. Don't be sorry."
And suddenly I'm transported to the terrible skin check experience of 2006, where, a few months after my pregnancy a small mark appeared just below my left nipple. I shamefacedly admitted this when he asked there was anything that he needed to check that was covered by my bra....so I pulled it down to show him, prudently covering the offending nipple that bordered the mark when he said, "I'm sorry, I really am, but I need to see the whole nipple for a second." and I released it, and a second later, I was duly covered and we'd moved on, but this...I suddenly realize there's a pause in the room, and I'm back, folks....
"Right, yes, I'm not sorry per se, but you know, I mean, I just, I felt it was better to be...
"...safe than sorry. Yes, it is. Especially in areas not hit by sun exposure. Now, do you need another person in here while we do this?"
Is this a trick question? Do I NEED another person? If I say yes, is it a signal I don't trust him? If I say no, will the dark recess of his brain wonder if I'm a tart that just wants to flash him?
"Oh, no, its fine. It will just take a second." comes my confident reply. Faker. Exhibitionist tart.
"Well then...." he says gently. Steps back, waits.
"Oh, yes, right. Umm. I kept on my underwear. I don't know why. I just need to take them off. Wait one second. Sorry." Word vomit! Cease and desist!
I quickly stand up on the foot rest of the examining table and without looking at him I pull down my modest light blue bikini underwear that I donned specifically for this
"Well, um, so, just right here, on the left, its..." And I'm trying to cover up and reveal at the same time. And he's bending down and craning his neck and sort of holding up his index finger near the area in question, as if to trace an outline of it and then I realize, panicked, his fingers are bare. No! What?
Quickly he speaks, now Captain-Obvious-meets-Doctorly-Noises "Ahh, yes, right, I see, right, well, there it is, its got a slightly irregular shape, its...wait one second, I just want to measure this.."
Another lumpy second passes between us. He quickly measures, careful not to touch me, and then cranes his neck once more for a second look and pronounces it good. "You need to know that areas like this not exposed to sun need to be watched. And I think that we need to just do a check once year to make sure its not undergoing any changes." My face slides. I think he notices. "...or maybe once every other year" he amends further "...or if any changes take place."
He leaves, instructing me to dress, and gets me a sample he mentioned. I hurriedly dress, and he knocks earlier than I expect.
"Wait, just one second.." I pull quickly button my pants and pull my tshirt over my head. "You can come in now."
"Oh, my gosh, I'm sorry! I just didn't want to walk in on you too early. I didn't mean to... " he trails off, averting his eyes as I now adjust my sweater over my t-shirt.
Umm, not 2 minutes ago your face was about 5 inches from my oonie, so I'm not terribly concerned about me putting on a second shirt in front of you.
"Here's the samples, you should just put this on once a day and let me know if that doesn't improve the dry skin. It was great seeing you. Take care of yourself." Smiling, he leans, clasps my left shoulder, and places another very faint kiss on my cheek. Why do I feel like this was some experimental form of a date? If so, do I still owe my co-pay?
Not seven hours later, I see what could possibly be him coming to pick up kids at the school. I bend down to pretend to tie the non-existent lace of my shoe, passing the time, and wonder about how this small world makes me feel both safer, because we know who the players are and we're all invested, and then, at other times, utterly exposed.
What is your most awkward moment of 2009? It seems I got mine in just under the bell.
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