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:: Friday, April 29, 2005 ::

Stepping Backward
by Adrienne Rich

[another from miz kc's poetry flood. because it resonated with my thoughts/dreams/fears of late, and because it very nearly made me cry, which is harder to do lately. bit long, but worth the work.]

Good-by to you whom I shall see tomorrow,
Next year and when I'm fifty; still good-by.
This is the leave we never really take.
If you were dead or gone to live in China
The event might draw your stature in my mind.
I should be forced to look upon you whole
The way we look upon the things we lose.
We see each other daily and in segments;
Parting might make us meet anew, entire.

You asked me once, and I could give no answer,
How far dare we throw off the daily ruse,
Official treacheries of face and name,
Have out our true identity? I could hazard
An answer now, if you are asking still.
We are a small and lonely human race
Showing no sign of mastering solitude
Out on this stony planet that we farm.
The most that we can do for one another
Is let our blunders and our blind mischances
Argue a certain brusque abrupt compassion.
We might as well be truthful. I should say
They're luckiest who know they're not unique;
But only art or common interchange
Can teach that kindest truth. And even art
Can only hint at what disturbed a Melville
Or calmed a Mahler's frenzy; you and I
Still look from separate windows every morning
Upon the same white daylight in the square.

And when we come into each other's rooms
Once in awhile, encumbered and self-conscious,
We hover awkwardly about the threshold
And usually regret the visit later.
Perhaps the harshest fact is, only lovers--
And once in a while two with the grace of lovers--
Unlearn that clumsiness of rare intrusion
And let each other freely come and go.
Most of us shut too quickly into cupboards
The margin-scribbled books, the dried geranium,
The penny horoscope, letters never mailed.
The door may open, but the room is altered;
Not the same room we look from night and day.

It takes a late and slowly blooming wisdom
To learn that those we marked infallible
Are tragi-comic stumblers like ourselves.
The knowledge breeds reserve. We walk on tiptoe,
Demanding more than we know how to render.
Two-edged discovery hunts us finally down;
The human act will make us real again,
And then perhaps we come to know each other.

Let us return to imperfection's school.
No longer wandering after Plato's ghost,
Seeking the garden where all fruit is flawless,
We must at last renounce that ultimate blue
And take a walk in other kinds of weather.
The sourest apple makes its wry announcement
That imperfection has a certain tang.
Maybe we shouldn't turn our pockets out
To the last crumb or lingering bit of fluff,
But all we can confess of what we are
Has in it the defeat of isolation--
If not our own, then someone's, anyway.

So I come back to saying this good-by,
A sort of ceremony of my own,
This stepping backward for another glance.
Perhaps you'll say we need no ceremony,
Because we know each other, crack and flaw,
Like two irregular stones that fit together.
Yet still good-by, because we live by inches
And only sometimes see the full dimension.
Your stature's one I want to memorize--
Your whole level of being, to impose
On any other comers, man or woman.
I'd ask them that they carry what they are
With your particular bearing, as you wear
The flaws that make you both yourself and human.

:: ewee 10:41:00 AM [+] :: 0 comments ::
...

where's kehoe?

[i'm in there too, somewhere...]

:: ewee 11:53:00 AM [+] :: 0 comments ::
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pyramid scheme
ok, so i mistyped the website for the "new improved" food pyramid. and you know what? i'm only gonna give you the link for the funny (and much much better) one...

:: ewee 3:31:00 PM [+] :: 2 comments ::
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bz bz bz
aaah. been too busy to post, and haven't even had time to download photos from my phone. sigh. bit of a mess these days, but finding calm in eating, sleeping, tv, and my sweet doggie. learning to spend time on my own seems to be a good thing. i think. trying to not be such a hater, and trying not to be so easily affected by external things. but it's very much a work in progress.

in the meantime, another list of links to pass the time...

• world clock
• u.k. dialing codes
• starchy: temporary wallpaper!
• DigsMagazine.com | nourish: FRENCH PRESS
• DigsMagazine.com | lounge: THE PACKRAT'S GUIDE TO A HAPPY HOME
  
  The packrat’s path to happiness starts with accepting what you are, and adjusting your methods of cleaning and organization accordingly. There’s no shame in having a lot of stuff, as long as you maintain and manage it well. So stand tall, claim your identity, and take pride in your many belongings, Packrat!

:: ewee 10:47:00 AM [+] :: 0 comments ::
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tofutti cutie!
the tofu-man (aka pedrosterbean!) in portland...his dads are tormenting me by taking him away and then sending cute photos. damn. it's working...

:: ewee 2:58:00 PM [+] :: 0 comments ::
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poetry smoetry
so my friend, kc from kc, doesn't keep in touch at all. i think in the 13 or so years i've known her, she's sent me a letter, uh, maybe once?

but in april, she does this annoying, yet endearing, thing. she spams her entire list with poetry. every day. one poem per day.

here's the thing. poetry is often hard for me to get (tho here's one i get some of the time). and when she started, i thought it was some weird poetry virus trying to kill me. i'm still overwhelmed by it all -- it's too much for me to ingest, and i'd prefer it on paper (preferably letter press on a nice high rag content paper), but there are a few gems (they might all be good, but i can't digest poetry so quickly). this one is from monday, and seems apropos of my life right about now.

A Dream Within A Dream
by Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

:: ewee 12:45:00 PM [+] :: 0 comments ::
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doodley google
they tout it as "the most comprehensive image buggery on the web" -- check out what it does was you do a toogle search on dogmo.
...

die-t
so, apparently, sleeping burns 55 calories/hr, while eating burns 85 calories/hr. woohoo. now that's a diet plan i can stick to...

:: ewee 10:45:00 AM [+] :: 0 comments ::
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achy breaky heart
there's this strange ache in my chest these days. it's not necessarily a bad thing. mebbe i'm just learning to feel shit again. but it makes me all hopped up and kinda spastic (ok, guess that's just me on coffee, but you know). and my body is doing the strangest thing...just shutting down from time to time. definitely some fatigue, and more than my usual dosage of stress. not sure what else, but i guess change will do that to ya.

probably past time to get home to the sweet hound, and to find some solace in her wide grin and dashing about. she managed to get completely drenched today just by rolling around in the grass! whadda lovechop.

the photo is from the memorial tile mural in precita park that i got to do a little bit in (what they don't mention in the linked article is that the two teens were killed by the girl's jealous ex-abuser). now when i walk the kehoe-bean, i get to see it...not the happiest of murals, but i still love it. the bench is made of melted guns, and there's many messages of hope and strength and love in the tiles.

reminds me of all the murals and shit that i love in this damn city. i really do love it here... (why the hell am i so damn verklempt??? and why so sweary?)

:: ewee 5:12:00 PM [+] :: 0 comments ::
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wanted
more unnatural obsessions. aah to lust for high-end design, but to only command a moderate income... (really, i'm not always this shallow. sometimes i'm asleep)

• cardboard speakers
• candelas
• toro tissue ring

:: ewee 4:25:00 PM [+] :: 0 comments ::
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daylight savings
free beer? ok, then howsabout some friendly pranks...?

:: ewee 3:49:00 PM [+] :: 0 comments ::
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