Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Reading through "Agamemnon," which I'm certain I read in college and I'm a little surprised by my reaction. I have a lasting impression of Clytemnestra as the villain of the piece along with her lover Aegisthus. This reading I understand much more clearly Clytemnestra and can even summon up a little bit of sympathy for Aegisthus--at least so far as their crime against Agamemnon. The sacrifice of Iphigenia tore out a mother's heart--destroyed her completely. And what happened to Thyestes (Aegisthus father)--being fed his own children by Atreus (Agamemnon's father), certainly explains some things, even if I am not into the generational vengeance thing.  I used to think them the villains of the piece but this speech by Clytemnestra pretty much sums it up:

So now you sentence me to banishment,
allot me hatred, rumbling civic curses.
Back then you offered him no opposition
when he, as casual as at one death
among the crowding and luxuriant flocks,
sacrificed his own child, my dearest birth-pangs,
to conjure up some blasts of air from Thrace.

Saturday, February 25, 2017

You treat
love like a 
rare earth element
infinitely precious,
Incredibly valuable,
in so many ways powerful,
and rare,
to be dolloped out
in micro- and nanograms,
to be used only here
and there to coordinate
functions and link
however temporarily 
things that are apart.
What will it take to convince
you that love is
like the atmosphere–
infinitely precious
and in the universe–rare
enough. But oh my
it’s everywhere–in and on
and around all living things 
It is our home and our life
and without it–a barren 
rock is all there’d be.
Just try to hoard the atmosphere,
stuff it in a bag,
dollop it out in nanograms
it goes where it goes 
and it stays there despite 
all you can do to drive it out.

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

If your house is on fire, the most urgent thing to do is to go back and try to put out the fire, not to run after the person you believe to be the arsonist. If you run after the person you suspect has burned your house, your house will burn down while you are chasing him or her. That is not wise. You must go back and put out the fire. So when you are angry, if you continue to interact with or argue with the other person, if you try to punish her, you are acting exactly like someone who runs after the arsonist while everything goes up in flames.

Thich Nhat Hanh

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

"They mounted and set off for the house. Ordering the servant to ride on before with the lantern, Leila brought her horse close in so that they might ride knee-to-knee, solaced by the touch of each other’s bodies. They had not been lovers for very long —barely ten days —though to the youthful Mountolive it seemed a century, an eternity of despair and delight. He had been formally educated in England, educated not to wish to feel. All the other valuable lessons he had already mastered, despite his youth —to confront the problems of the drawing-room and the street with sang-froid; but towards personal emotions he could only oppose the nervous silence of a national sensibility almost anaesthetized into clumsy taciturnity: an education in selected reticences and shames."

In Mountolive by Lawrence Durrell, and describing him (Mountolive)

Suffering is
contagious in a way
that joy is not--we are
by the passion but
the transfiguration trundles
by ignored.

Jammin' with Basquiat

decore888888888 sp
and Muse-sich
decar8888888888 t-I
but po et
tree descar888888888
theme eind.

Sunday, January 8, 2017

The Shape of the World as I See It

For all the problems
I see around me,
I prefer no time
to my time(really,
they were all the same
but now you can see
both light and dark. No
longer do we sit
in complete ignorance
while others tell us
how great we are);
no age to my
present age(though
sometimes in the aches
and pains, it sounds nice
to be a younger self--the pain
of the fire that burns
too intensely and forgets
more frequently that life is
the only real gift far
outweighs these signs
that I've come far enough
to delight in what the world
offers);  no place but my
place(the spirit
of wandering sings
loud and the lure of having
ever more and more
persuades, until I think
of the hours and days and weeks and years
expended in keeping
all fine and catch a glimpse
of me as servant to all
that owns me,
and know that however
far I go, I long still
for a place of retreat).

In short, I can be
content if I settle
down to be.
I'd like for my
biggest problem
to be
"What shade of blue
do I wear today."

Sunday, January 1, 2017



It was like He said
Let's put a black box
around your head
and cut a small ragged
circular hole in it
right in the center
just above the bridge
of your nose and cover
the hole with a million
year old, scratched up
gray filter. Then let's
light the room with dim
red bulbs accented with
a silver bright flashing
strobe light. And let's fill
the room with fog like
sublimating dry ice and
then send you in to pick up
a thousand black pins from
the deep pile dark green
carpet. If it doesn't seem
right just keep at it until
it does. And not knowing
any better you do.
poetry Drafts My writing

Tuesday, December 27, 2016

Collateral Beauty

This evening saw Collateral Beauty with my son. We both liked it, but critics, predictably hated it--a lot.  They found it predictable and manipulative and cynical.  Probably all true--but it is of a type that is designed for all of that--a tearjerker.  As such, it has a formula--and the execution of this formula was remarkably well done.  Except for one bit of overexplaining toward the end, it was a predictably simple story with an interesting twist which I did not see coming.

In case you're wondering this is all about making sure that I've posted something today, to try to get back into the regular rhythm of it.