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1/13/2022 blog

This is probably Dorothy Parker’s most famous poem and is very brief.

It is called  “Resume” from the 1920s and about wanting to commit suicide but having effectively no way that isn’t extremely painful, maybe as in No Exit as J.P. Sartre or his English-language translator titled his most famous play.

“Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.”
It is kind of a funny poem, even though morbid. I think that is one of benefits of humor: it kind of flips otherwise awful situations into ones that can make you laugh. It is like the TV show Seinfeld was able to do.
There was a movie a while back about Parker. She appears to have been a socialite among New York City intellectuals, as well as an artist.
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1/12/2022 blog

On Robert Frost’s “Out, Out–”

This poem appeals to me now because it is about a mutilation and ultimately a death, while I am now writing a work of fiction that includes a mutilation scene though the context, cause, and outcome are much different.

The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside him in her apron
To tell them ‘Supper.’ At the word, the saw,
As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap—
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all—
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart—
He saw all spoiled. ‘Don’t let him cut my hand off—
The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!’
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.”
From poemanalysis.com

“The poem was first published in July of 1916 in McClure’s. It was later included in his collection, Mountain Interval, published that same year. ‘Out, Out—‘ was inspired by the true story of a young boy, Raymon Tracy Fitzgerald, who died in an accident at a young age. It is generally thought that the title is an allusion to the famous line in Shakespeare’s Macbeth, ‘Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player.’”

The poem is gruesome but fits with the violence in the climax of the novella I am trying to complete now. We listened to a recording of the poem in an art class my first year of high school, so it also resonates.

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1/11/2022 blog

On three Emily Dickinson poems

I have said before I feel a certain kinship with Dickinson, and the recent virus scare has made many people shut-ins, as she seemed to be much of her life. Anyway, here are three poems and a few comments.

1)

“Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of victory

As he defeated – dying –
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!”

I recently got into touch by phone with a high school classmate who appears to have become a successful D.C. lawyer and seems to have a happy family. When I mentioned on the phone that he has been successful as a compliment, he got a bit reticent. Samuel Beckett in one of his essays writes of something like the twin demons of failure and success. The poem also reminds me of the image of the dying Gaul, of which I have a slightly surreal version of in print form by a contemporary artist on my apartment wall.

2)
“Much Madness is divinest Sense –
To a discerning Eye –
Much Sense – the starkest Madness –
’Tis the Majority
In this, as all, prevail –
Assent – and you are sane –
Demur – you’re straightway dangerous –
And handled with a Chain -“
A previous post mentioned the Scottish psychiatrist R.D. Laing who proposed many seriously mentally ill people came from communities that had lied to them or at least were for some reason hostile to them. When I was a financial reporter, traders had a phrase of “demurrage charge,” when shippers are penalized for not delivering what was expected on time.
3)
 “ALMOST!
Within my reach!
I could have touched!
I might have chanced that way!
Soft sauntered through the village,
Sauntered as soft away!
So unsuspected violets
Within the fields lie low,
Too late for striving fingers
That passed, an hour ago.”
Two thoughts. Dickinson liked to use exclamation marks (maybe most famously in the poem “Wild Nights – Wild Nights!”). One of my grad school classmates detested exclamation marks as an over-expression of emotion.  The other is this poem reminds me of the short story by Henry James called “The Beast in the Jungle” about a relationship that is ultimately out of reach. It is worth reading.
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1/10/2022 blog

On naturalism and three  brief original poems

I am not an expert on literary Naturalism. There seems to be a tension between it being at peace and acceptance with one’s natural environment (however dreadful) and possibly being angry at religion.

It interests me now because I am trying to finish a brief novel in which the first-person narrator references two famous Naturalist playwrights.

“New Weak” by yours truly

Syb(il)-day

Mon(ey)-day

(Lost a) Tooth-day

Whines-day

Thirst-day

(Brain) Fry-day

Cat (or Dog)-day

“7,000” by yours truly

“Did you know the local elevation is almost 7,000 feet, and we have surrounding foothills too? It may be what brings people here from more flat lands. What lands!”

“Again”  by yours truly

Government again.

You’ll not win.

Sin to sin.

Begin again.

Or get punched  again with a pin.

From start to fin.

 

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1/9/2022

Some random things

I know some make fun  of the word “random” because it seems you are just being sloppy or stupidly vague in your wording, but it can  convey the sometimes chaotic nature of life. This post is somewhat free-association, but I have  been  mainly focused on finishing my novel  lately and have not had the time to write serious analytical essays, no matter how brief.

On today’s Mass

One of the Old Testament readings today quoted the word “thus.” It reminded me in a kind of humorous way of a good but slightly pompous college lecturer who would repeatedly use the phrase “Thus it was…” before describing what happened in world history.

Thus it was,,,

One of the pastor’s quotes today was that “God shows no partiality.” I like the idea, but Donald Trump may be right in a way that it may be good to have nepotism, a type of partiality, If your family is ethical and qualified, I don’t think  it is wrong to support family more than strangers. It just seems like loyalty.

Had more to say but will leave it there for now,

 

 

 

 

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1/8/2022 blog

On a famous Robert Frost poem and two of my own

This is about Frost’s “The Road Not Taken,” one of the best known poems in the U.S.

I think the short poem has to do with what was mentioned in a previous post as what economists call “opportunity cost,” giving up one thing for another, or possibly one person for another or for a cause or just to be decent.

Everyone has regrets in life. “You want most what you don’t have,” said the therapist. It can lead to the deadly sins of envy and wrath. Though the poem’s narrator seems resolutely resigned to his or her choice, the speaker also seems a bit sad and regretful.

Here is the full poem. It actually seems to end on a possibly positive note.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
“Face Mask” by yours truly
‘Time to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet.’ –T.S. Eliot
“Don’t forget to wear your mask! (No matter how many times vaccinated; Hope this does not seem plaint-ed
And certainly won’t get me dated).
And don’t drink on the street from a flask.”
“Okay. Such a task.”
“Bear” by yours truly
“It clearly bears watching.”
“Ahh! Watching bears.
Everyone running from them.
There appears to be an angry Momma bear.
You probably don’t want to see me bare.
Beware!”
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1/7/2022 blog

On a media article, a joke/poem, and a brief update on writing a novel:

“I’VE SPENT the last 15 winters, on and off, flitting around the world’s great ski towns, from the Swiss Alps to the Colorado Rockies to the Chilean Andes. With this winter’s flurries of Covid travel restrictions and surging lift prices across the U.S., I stayed in my native Canada this season. And I realized that the covetable combination of first-rate skiing, fabulous scenery and small-town coziness that I’d sought in ski spots around the world exists in my own backyard, and for much friendlier prices.”

I have said before on this blog that Americans are sometimes known for making fun of Canada; I don’t think it is mean-spirited. It is a beautiful country, and the people seem cheerful  and nice. I used to ski a lot but not recently.

The above-quoted paragraph is from the start of a The Wall Street Journal travel piece about skiing in Canada. I spent one vacation in the Colorado Rockies just west of Denver skiing at a resort that must have been similar to Canada ski resorts. I have also been to Quebec as a child with family and skied in Washington state, which must be similar to Western Canada environmentally and all. Many evergreen trees. Haha.

A poem

“Dan” by yours truly

Dan Druff is back (heart attack?).

After decades away.

Hey, hey, hey. It’s fat Dan Druff.

(Remember the cartoon,

Or pining for the moon?)

“Hey, don’t make my scalp itch.”

It’s almost like scalp twitch.

Life is a b—-.

Update on short novel:

Almost done. It may be a bit briefer than initially targetted. Already have about 73 pages but may only get to about 100 pages, not 120. My attitude is many of us have shorter attention spans, so briefer could be better. And it is not like I am Stephen King, Tolstoy, or Dickens.

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1/6/2022 blog

A poem/joke (had more to say today, but the website scrapped my writing for some reason)

“Mun-dates” by yours truly

“What do you think of the anti-virus mun-dates?”

“I prefer fun dates.”

“My dates have been a bit mundane.”

“Take it easy my son.”

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1/5/2022 blog

On the creative-writing process

Trying to complete a short novel. For me the beginning and ending were not very difficult because they had been gestating in my mind a long time. But I would like to add 30-50 pages more in the middle or toward the climax and am a bit stalled.

One of my grad school professors had a course called something like “Middle Narratives” about the central parts of novels, I think. I didn’t take her course, but it came to mind as I struggle with the middle or middle-toward-ending part of my fictional work.

It is harder for me to describe what leads up to an almost final and turning point of a story. When I was a financial reporter, we had a self-deprecatory word of “filler”  for brief news items, often taken from a newswire, that were mainly used to fill out empty space in a print publication that was mainly independently written articles by our staff.

That’s what writing this part of the novel feels a bit like. I will try to keep it interesting of course, but at this point my notion of it feels a bit rote and fluffy, like watching a mediocre TV action show.

 

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1/4/2022 blog

Some random comments on a novel, and two joke/poems

More on Stephen King’s The Institute based on this excerpt from page 393:

“‘I don’t see anything funny about any of this,’ Tag said,, frowning.

‘Neither do I,’  Luke said,  ‘but sometimes I laugh anyway,,,’ He didn’t laugh this time, but smiled. ‘You have no idea.'”

This just makes me think of the difference between smiling and laughing. People who smile may be more attractive, and laughter can seem angry or violent. Myself, I prefer laughter to smiles. Yes, humor is subjective. And laughter can be much more offensive and less diplomatic than smiles, even if no real offense is intended by the laugh.

But it is hard for some people to smile politely. I only usually do it for photos with relatives. If you aren’t happy, why try to act as if you are?

Two brief  poems

“Seedy See” by yours truly

The Seedy See says:

It is not polite to stare.

(This is a mandate.)

Watcher beware.

Please take care.

“Universe” by yours truly

God:

Because the word has

Fewer letters and syllables than

Universe.

Some atheists talk too much.