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Archives for January 2013

Three Pieces for Barbara

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I
It’s pieces of sky reflecting the ground
She whispers from deep within her loamy
Brown eyes, the watchful ones she inherited
From her earnest aunt and her laughing mother.
A flood of flakes fall across the window
And pass their questions on to a landscape as stormy
As her eyes. She proofs the other weather
In sentences of twinned, lonely footprints
That trail off beneath the sad light of day’s lid
Closing eyes that fill up with falling snow…
Unlike poems, a child’s daydreams are foolproof.

II
My daughter knows poetry, although
She thinks outside rhyme and meter’s weather.
The craft escapes her, but genius will grow
With increasing accumulations.
The day snows and snows and snows, and she over-
Excites herself. The promise of being
Buried up to the roof in it settles her
To comedy in cataclysmic images
And seismic euphoria and metaphoric
Meteorology: Snow is so freeing.
It’s cold and white and crests her roof before noon.

III
The snow is like earth’s shadow in the sky.
She’s expert at the poetic make-up of a sigh
Too young for real grief. My daughter, full
Of syllogisms of the heart, knows the kind
That matter to this falling play of time
Dancing its old jig in her youthful blood. It thrills
Her soul back to earth to find the ground.
For if (as she sweeps her glances through a room)
All love is deep and all deep things return
Then it is for and to love that love is born –
Even as all things turn from time to time to grief.

Phone

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Located: The Selfish Gene

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“It was a thrill to watch that boy grow inside her, but I must admit during that second trimester as we watched him move around on 3-D sonograms I saw how human they were and my life long belief in abortion rights was – let’s say – jostled. It was life colliding with belief system. I had to rethink my position, but in the end I remain committed to being pro-choice because I cannot imagine arguing against a woman’s right to control her body – and thus – her life.”

I think I prefer the glass of whisky, fire on the hearth, roses and sexy talk when I’m seduced into buying a bill of goods… But, oh well.

Film at eleven.

He liked to leave mysteries.

Happy deathday, Mr. Frost (h/t to IC)

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Russia, Caution

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So I was doing a (job-related) image search for “Vladivostok nightclub” and this young lady showed up. I don’t think she’ll trip anybody’s NSFW alarms, but she’s got me feeling…conflicted. I’m pretty sure that her efforts to share the good news of the Gospel are making her chilly.

Wake Up, Time to Buy

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That’s right, folks, Guitarist Extraordinaire William Wilson has released a new album. You know the drill – head on over to Amazon or iTunes and buy, buy, buy! The dude has a mortgage now! Plus, it’s good and stuff.

Glory of Texas

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Gaiser Conservatory, Manito Park, Spokane, Wash.

Today in Footnotes

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This is a very fine appreciation of the man behind Parker, who shows up yet again on the big screen this week. It includes this beautifully formatted footnote:

A list of Westlake’s most prominent novelistic pseudonyms: Richard Stark (Parker, inspired by the actor Richard Widmark), Alan Marshall (erotica), Edwin West (erotica), Curt Clark (science fiction), Tucker Coe (private-eye series featuring detective Mitch Tobin), and Samuel Holt (about a former TV detective named … Sam Holt). This does not include several more he used for one-shot books and magazine stories, including Ben Christopher and Grace Salacious.

Grace Salacious! Has there ever been a finer pseudonym?

Crazy

New favorite Gospel (from today’s Mass readings):

Jesus came with his disciples into the house. Again the crowd gathered, making it impossible for them even to eat. When his relatives heard of this they set out to seize him, for they said, “He is out of his mind.”

Today in Porn: Life Imitates Art Edition

This news flash just in from Melbourne by way of our La Crosse office:

A Southern Health dental hygienist ceased work a day after being told dozens of images of her posing explicitly in the Cranbourne clinic were posted on a members-only internet porn site.

Which is as if ripped from the pages of Bird’s Nest in Your Hair, the latest publication from Korrektiv Press:

It took them a couple of trips up the elevator, but other than a dropped item here and there, everything went off without a hitch. While Tom and the others set up cameras and the rest of the equipment in the examination rooms, the performers sat on couches in the lobby, smoking cigarettes and thumbing through copies of Highlights and Ladies Home Journal. One fellow wearing a white lab coat was fiddling around with a tank of nitrous oxide, pressing a mask to his face with one hand while turning a dial with the other.

A couple of guys in tool belts were in the final stages of clearing out one of the overhead lights, deemed an obstruction for one of the more complicated shots. Near the front of the examination room were two women, chatting with a man holding what appeared to be a giant diaphragm. The women were unusually well built. This was obvious enough in their tidy little mauve smocks and white leggings—grossly exaggerated idealizations of dental assistants, judged Tom.

Perhaps they were inspired by the novel. Kind of hope they were, kinda hope they weren’t!

Read the rest of Bird’s Nest in Your Hair, available at amazon.com.