Darja, Winter

My voice is cold asleep.
Down-to-your-bones naked
you stretch white legs and
darken eyes ever earlier.
The flowstone fields where
cars freeze to nothing harden
beyond what we are willing
to believe. I mound up heatless
bits of word and suck your
crystal fingers, tongue-stuck
and waiting for clear roads.
I shovel your hair from my
alley mouth; you roll over
sigh, and steal the covers.

When Flying Pigs Freeze Over

All evidence to the contrary, I have neither:

(a) died, nor
(b) dropped off the face of the planet

Happy Holidays, Everyone! The great beast of an office isn't through with me yet, but I braved tonsils and scaled the larynx just to pop in and say "hello."

Hello.

There will be many New Year's resolutions, up to and including:

#1 - Increasing my presence in social circles & decreasing my presence in business meetings
#2 - Reconnecting with all of my online friends
#3 - Making more artwork in general, be it drawings or paintings
#4 - Attending writers' meetings regularly (and getting Charmi's book back to her!)
#5 - Using more images on my blog, now that I've refreshed myself on the HTML syntax

And showing up at Chicory for readings again. This last time I skipped-out to attend my family's holiday function--totally selfish, right? ;)

Now, I'm off to Livejournal to spread holiday cheer and further evidence of my continuing warm-blooded existence. Fa-la-la-la-la!

Later.

Captain Sellout and the Film of Tomorrow

Last night, I forsook an opportunity to read poetry in favor of viewing a major Hollywood motion picture that took copious liberties with a hallmark of the English language. I'm now sitting alone in my office, waiting for the men in black coats with patches on the elbows to arrive and strip me of my English degree. But I'm still smiling.

Alright, perhaps the smile is a bit forced, but I really had a great time last night. My wife and I made a spontaneous decision to drive more than an hour to Portage, IN because it's the closest IMAX movie screen around here. I used to work in a movie theatre--I have tasted of that dark knowledge, the double-oil popcorn batch--and let me tell you, I haven't seen a place jumping this much since 1996. People streamed in and out of the doors, there was neon everywhere; it was so lively that I couldn't help thinking of our own, lonely local 16-screen cineplex and how amazingly dead it seemed by comparison. I pinched myself--yep, I was still in Indiana.

The great blazing light that drew me to the theatre and away from an intellectually fulfilling experience at the local coffeehouse was none other than Robert Zemeckis's Beowulf, in glorious 3-D on a screen whose height is measured in stories rather than feet.

The film was surprisingly true to the events of the epic poem, though they embellished it with a backstory which imparted, I believe, an "agreeable symmetry." All the major plot points and characters were there, from King Hrothgar's gregarious lot, to the great dragon which threatens Beowulf's people in his final days. But it was Grendel, first and foremost, that bought my attention and sealed my favor of the film. I won't try to describe it, but our introduction to the beast was chillingly perfect.

I keep seeing this in movie reviews, and I'll echo it here--if you get the chance, see it on an IMAX screen, in 3-D. It's worth it, at least if you're in love with movies. My wife and I have been, ever since we served time together in that box office, O so long ago.

Rare & Required

I want comments on this one. What are some recordings that, when you listen to them, you just can't get over how incredible they make you feel? I'm talking musical genius--to your ears, anyway. Not necessarily musical perfection, because I haven't a lick of technical knowledge to back that up. I mean those awe-inspiring recordings that you would play for anyone as proof of what music can be, how deeply it can reach. Or how about some obscure gem that you think might blow my mind, some underappreciated classic? Post about it, and here are a few of mine to start things off:

1. The Beatles' I Am The Walrus as performed by Oasis at the Glasgow Cathouse in June 1994, a recording which was included as a b-side on the Wonderwall cd single (the import version, anyway). It's just insane.

2. The song Some Devil by Dave Matthews, off the album of the same name. Minimalistic and haunted, just an incredible recording all around.

3. California Dreamin' by The Mamas & The Papas. No one could ever re-record that song and capture that atmosphere, it's just absolutely tight from start to finish.

4. Wild Is The Wind by Nina Simone. I first heard a portion of this on YouTube, playing over an innocuous scene taken from the film Scarlet Diva. I picked up the track at the first opportunity--her voice just floors me, and the song itself is fantastic.

5. Country Feedback by R.E.M. Another one of those songs where it just feels like so many factors collided so perfectly that they could never be repeated or improved upon. There's such heat and loneliness and aching in this track.

Directives To Self

In the spring--next time it comes around--go to the pond one bright midday and look for the swarms of new tadpoles, the ones that are like loose commas or spattered ink blots just beneath the surface of the water. You used to do this as a child, you remember the muck-smell and the impossibly gentle touch of twenty or thirty wriggling bodies in your palm, the cool water, the smells of life and death. When was the last time you did this? Feels like forever.

Then, it's been forever.

You also need to lay down in the grass before the snow gets here. Just fall onto the grass and let the earth clutch you as it spins. Feel the orbit, the almost unimaginable sweep of rotation, in your soul, the awesome faint rushing that is like being born across the snowfield on your father's back, or in your mother's arms, or pulled in the sled with your infant brother toward your grandparents' old home at twilight.

These are requirements. You cannot continue forward until you go this far back. At last you've reached the age where there are things you have not done in recent memory. The age where you find what you forgot you had.