Some Beckett

(I was poking around the library's website and suddenlyoutofnowhere remembered this poem I hadn't thought of in years. How does a person forget about a poem she loves so much?)


Cascando

1
why not merely the despaired of
occasion of
wordshed

is it not better abort than be barren

the hours after you are gone are so leaden
they will always start dragging too soon
the grapples clawing blindly the bed of want
bringing up the bones the old loves
sockets filled once with eyes like yours
all always is it better too soon than never
the black want splashing their faces
saying again nine days never floated the loved
nor nine months
nor nine lives

2
saying again
if you do not teach me I shall not learn
saying again there is a last
even of last times
last times of begging
last times of loving
of knowing not knowing pretending
a last even of last times of saying
if you do not love me I shall not be loved
if I do not love you I shall not love
the churn of stale words in the heart again
love love love thud of the old plunger
pestling the unalterable
whey of words

terrified again
of not loving
of loving and not you
of being loved and not by you
of knowing not knowing pretending
pretending
I and all the others that will love you
if they love you

3
unless they love you

It was supposed to thunderstorm all day!

Not that I mind a good thunderstorm, but instead we're doing this yard stuff:


I like how when I focus in on a little piece of my yard it can seem so lovely and simple. This seems like a metaphor for anything, I suppose. (By the way, the only thing I have learned about gardening is this: dianthus is sold as an annual, but it is not! It's come back for me four years in a row!)
This is my original iris patch about to bloom in full. I've spread it around to about five other spots....
...like this one. The yard looks sort of dull. I accept gardening suggestions, especially of the "easy-plants-Paula-can't-kill-and-extra-advice-on-how-not-to-kill-them" variety, since I am still quite a novice. And a novice who only wants to commit to minimal yardwork time.
See? The truth comes out. Here's part of our big jungle-y mess and my teenager being paid to fix it. Yay, teenager!

2 to 7 Dark Confessions

I signed this little blog here up at Technorati about a week ago, and now I am completely obsessed about it. Why obsessed? Because, according to them, I have "no authority yet."

While it's true, in many fundamental ways, that I have no authority yet, I am not usually bothered by the lack. However, Technorati has, like, a system of rules in place to determine how they dole out "authority". And according to their rules, I should have an authority of, oh gosh, maybe 2 or 7 or something, and I WANT MY 2-7 POINTS OF AUTHORITY REAL BAD.

(Why, yes, it is difficult for me not to fix those adverb errors.)

Sad, isn't it? Why such want of authority? Many telling reasons to be sure, but primarily, I am a somewhat methodical person, and when I decide to do something, I need to feel it is taken care of before I can move on, all happy and carefree, to the next little task on my checklist. At this point in my life, I'm just going to admit it: that's how I do.

So I check for my authority every. single. day. Sometimes even with the multichecks. I am stalking myself on Technorati until they give me my dagnab 2-7!!! It's super unhealthy.

But you know what's fun? Surprises.

This nice Chris Tonelli put a picture of Upon Arrival right next to Matthew Rohrer's new beauty and called the two books refreshing! That's swell, and I thank him. Plus I appreciate his choice of blog template.

And this nice Julia Cohen wrote some generous things, too. Julia, I will try not to disappoint you with book 2!

And finally, Erin Lynn wrote something nice about the book some time ago, which I had trouble finding when she told me, for I was spelling her blog's name wrong! Plus, I feel associated with her cat, which I like.

Oh, my. So now you know. Please don't judge me too harshly. Or act like you've never even Googled yourself. You probably haven't. You win.

But I am paying for this bad distraction. All day, this song has been taking up a LOT of my brain space:



...and I figure it's some kind of karma workout. Except (or, rather, in addition) I thought it was sung by Loverboy, and so I spent a good deal of time this evening watching snippets of Loverboy videos.

Nope. Aldo Nova

Auntie Paula's Zen Hot Dog Bar

Not since the little Sounds Frenchy fondue and charades party I threw myself for my birthday...

...have I enjoyed preparing a theme gathering as much as today's Auntie Paula's Zen Hot Dog Bar:



replete with soy dogs and organic ketchup options.

Here are two of my esteemed guests (though this photo is from a previous function -- my camera is on the fritz)



Happy birthdays, M and P!!

Imaginary Press Tonight!!!

Don't miss your last chance to hear
these swell guys read while we can still call them locals!

What do you call it? Fick-shun?

I spent last Saturday reading, in its entirety, this book you should buy(or check out from the library like I did). Other than the ones I teach, and the one Russian novel I promise myself each winter, I don't get around to novels much. When would I?

I have my pal Kate to thank for the Hornby suggestion. Clearly, it's a novel I could plow through in a day, but that was at great cost to laundry, yardwork, feeding of self (other family members were elsewhere), and so forth, for I could not put it down. And it was funny. And I feel somewhat changed after reading it. For the better.

Hi.

As I strive to improve my photography skills, I must remember the main thing that makes me a rotten photographer is habitually forgetting my camera on the most important occassions.

But folks more responsible than I am have promised to send photos of my Seattle escapade, from which I am returned by redeye entirely sleep deprived (and have done playing a brief stint as "the loopy professor" this afternoon).

Steph and Jacob's wedding was beautiful. I did my best to fulfill my duties as one of the four best women.

The only job that was a little scary was faking a confident saunter in my strapless gown. I think I did.

My favorite job was giving the bride permission to roll up the car windows and cuss cuss cuss with me if things got stressful, though she really didn't take me up on it. Probably on account of the aforementioned beauty going on. And because she's a lady.

My most important sight-seeing trip was to Open Books. A person really can hardly believe it is possible to stand in an
all poetry bookstore, but one can! And it's magical. I treated myself to the new Mary Ruefle and a Celan collection.

Speaking of magical, being able to read at the Jewel Box Theater with Amy Schrader, Anna Maria Hong, and Kary Wayson made me feel like a ruby brooch. Or a hat pin. Or a candy necklace. Something that belongs in a jewel box amongst the real sparkles. Amber Curtis: many thanks!
Cranky is hot. Do you have your copy?

Ooh! I updated the Imaginary Press site tonight. It's Alex Lemon and Steve Burt this month!

My pillow is singing to me. Nighty nighty.