Fanciful thoughts about this thing called "poesy"

A poet from a workshop forum I frequent asked visitors at his blog to answer the question "what is poetry?" Wow, what a dangerous question to pose to poets! You just know they'll give you a cryptic, metaphorical, flowery answer. And why not? Here's mine:

There's a stage that children go through, when they're just on the brink of language. They wander around all day, pointing at things in the world, just for the sheer joy that comes with recognition and discovery. They wonder at the "suchness" of things. Sometimes, along with pointing at something, they'll plunge right in and name it. The name they give things is less about convention and reference than it is about finding their own voice. I admire toddlers in this; they’ll stand up for the names they’ve chosen – scream, fight, cry if they have to. In the end, if they want to name all four-legged animals “bow-wow,” they do.

That's poetry, to me. Paying attention to the suchness of things, and struggling (daring!) to name it.

Be a String, Water, to my Guitar*

I am a huge fan of classical, jazz and gypsy guitar - Segovia, Sergio and Odair Assad, Django Reinhardt. So I was thrilled to discover the music of Rodrigo y Gabriela. Their self-titled album came out in the U.S. last year. Originally from Mexico, they took their act to Dublin, settled there, and ended up at the top of the Irish charts. Their background is more heavy metal than classical, and some of the pieces on their album are fascinating arrangements of rock classics (e.g. Stairway to Heaven). The pair do such interesting percussive things with the body of the guitar; when I first heard the album, I couldn't believe that the sound was coming only from two guitars. I hope they come to Chicago! That's one act I'd like to see in Grant Park.

*Title of a poem by Mahmoud Darwish, translated by Clarissa Burt

Warning! Do not try this at home!

If a female friend ever asks you, "What's my best feature?" do not answer! Or rather, tread very, very carefully. Trust me; being female, and having been on both sides of this question before, I can say unequivocally that there is no winning here.

Let me give you a blow-by-blow of the only possible way this can play out:

Scenario 1:
L: Hey guys, I'm doing a style makeover, and I need to get your honest opinion: what's my best feature?
D: That's easy: your figure.
K: Your legs.
L: Hmm. So, what are you saying? I've got a funny face or something?

Tables are turned:
K: What's my best feature?
L: I'd have to say your eyes - your whole face, really.
K: So you're saying I'm fat.

I'm learning:
D: What's my best feature?
L: Hmm. So hard to choose...
D: I think it's my hair.
L: Your hair is fabulous. I was going to say face or legs, but I have to agree with you. Your very best feature is your hair.

We all panic when we're broken down into objectifiable parts like this. I repudiate any and all so-called makeovers that would ask such a question. Better to ask, "What do you like best about yourself?" That's what you should accentuate. That should be the center of any "style makeover." It doesn't even have to be a physical trait. I'd rather wear "wit" and "compassion" than a Max Azria wrap dress any day.

The Good Word

I love words. Sometimes when I'm reading a book, I jot down pleasing words in my journal. Not necessarily unfamiliar words, just words that strike a chord, like flagstones, chastened and tonsure. Hawthorne, Cooper and Melville texts are rich for word-mining. Lots of nautical terms, whaling lingo, the newly arcane. Many of the poems I write are inspired by a single word (e.g. portage; lightfast; fractality; caustic; rococo.

Word of the Week is:

Colomb: a heraldic representation of a dove.

Again with the heraldic. I can see that I'm going to have to do something with these words (colomb, crusily, fess dancetty).

Why Can't I Finish this Manuscript?

Got a voice mail from my sister H. last night. She has been pressuring me for the last six months to finish the manuscript for a middle-reader chapter book that needs a few finishing touches. The publisher wants me to simplify the language in places, draw out the action a little more in the climactic scene (by piling more misery on my characters), and remove some foreign words and change some names for reading ease. No big deal, right?

Apparently not. I just can't seem to do it. H. says it's critical that I finish this, that I need to be "in the habit of finishing things." Hey! I've finished plenty of things. I finished the PhD (very useful, that; I jest). Published an academic book with IUP. I finish most things, I'll have you know. Just not this one thing...

So what's the hold-up? Am I so attached to the current version that I can't bear to mess with it? No, I don't think so, although I've been there before. Revising can be like cutting off digits. Ouch. I think it's more that I've moved on; I'm ready for the next challenge; I'm focused on other things now. Why would I want to go backwards? It's like the orchid thief from Adaptation: "Done with fish."

H. says that's not good enough. Secretly (not so secretly), I know she's right. What's it going to take for me to spend half-a-measly-day on this and be done with it?

Ixnay on the at-screen-tv-flay

S. wants a flat-screen T.V. I, naturally, am resisting. We have such limited time for TV and film viewing, what do we need with a top-of-the-line set?

S. says that if it were up to me, we'd still be using our old J.C. Penny TV, with built-in VCR. Admittedly, that was a monstrosity; but it worked! At least, the TV part did. I think S. is still bitter about a little incident that happened way back in the days before DVDs and Netflix. We had rented a movie from Hollywood Video, and darn if the cassette didn't get stuck in the VCR. S. called the people at Hollywood, and they said, "No problem. Just bring in your VCR and our tech people will take care of it." So there's S., carrying a gigantic J.C. Penny TV with built-in VCR down 53rd Street in Hyde Park. I'm surprised no one called the cops. Of course, the clerks at Hollywood looked at him like he was a madman. I'm pretty sure we bought a new TV that very afternoon.

The J.C. Penny TV was one of those "church sale" acquisitions you make when you're a starving graduate student. What stuns me, though, is that someone, somewhere, years ago, was in the market for a new television, and they said, "Sony? Zenith? Panasonic? Naah, let's buy a brand-new J.C. PENNY T.V.!" It boggles the mind.