Thursday, June 30, 2011

Meanwhile, a tabby cat stalks chipmunks in the backyard.

A moment in an argument last night. He says,
I don't want to be analyzed right now. I just want to say how it is.
I have, since, realized that I have no need of the previous manifestoeses with which I've sometimes populated this space. Rather, a simple tenet that has been informing all of them -- the categorical refusal to accept anything without analysis, to allow it to be "how it is."

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

When they ask me what I'm writing, I'll point them here.


She wasn’t a beautiful woman
Though grandmothers so often are
Pale daguerreotype vixens staring at the man
(It’s always a man)
Caught spiriting away their souls
The devil’s in innovation inspiration inhalation --

Was it a violet gasp or ancient sigh
The morning she realized
I wonder: How long did she remain
(Willfully) ignorant
Or how long did she curse the bun
The devil maims independence intoxication inhibition --

She wasn’t a happy woman,
My mother whispers to me: White River Junction,
For a society baccalaureate from Smith?
(She held me, once, as a baby)
Smokey, whiskey breath in a chest full of journals
The devil’s incantations inscriptions exaltations.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

The Word is No.

A Sesame Street throwback:
No teeth, no biting
No Mexican, Thai, or Indian
No dates at 2 am.

No rumors, no discretion
No laughter at a stupid joke
No flash of recognition at an allusion
No double entendre.

No comfort on granite rocks above the surf
No shivers behind texted innuendo
No cliched absolution in the shower
No palliative for desire.

No reconciliation. No rehabilitation. No respiration.

Monday, June 13, 2011

57 Years of Combined Life Experience Trumps 1 Year

Recently I have discovered that babies are illogical. Galinda and Scientist Joe had a Meeting of Scientists™ to go to last night, and the Animus and I put on our babysitting caps.

Two thirds of the charges went to bed without a whimper, but Castor (of Castor and Pollux fame), who saw Galinda leaving, freaked out. Not wanting him to keep Pollux up, we let him play for a half hour before engaging the BATTLE OF THE WILLS. OF DOOM. ™. .COM

When an infant is distressed, the following will not work to coddle him:
- logical argumentation according to classical formulae
- continental logic
- reading a signed copy of Ann Williams's Down from Cascom Mountain in a soothing tone
- reading a signed copy of Ann William's Down from Cascom Mountain in a dramatic tone
- the Animus using Dog Whisperer methods
- a change in diaper
- the "sleeper" hold
- the "cholic" hold
- almost any reassuring hold imaginable
- marching up and down stairs in any reassuring hold imaginable
- letting him scream in a playpen while you hide in the dark eating dinner around the corner, pretending that if he can't see or hear you he'll eventually forget why he's so hysterical
- a bottle of water he is too hysterical to drink from
What will eventually settle him down is
-wedging him between two adult male bodies on a couch with a blanket over him so he can't move, B-rated movie (we used Wanted, for example) playing, until he flops down on the Animus's lap and shuts his eyes.