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NauenThen

Computer ways!

I'm not the only one who isn't (wasn't) linked. On my block.

Either yesterday's post disappeared or I didn't actually write it. I think I did & it was about fixing one thing & then another, so that my new machine is up & running. The Mac people were utterly unable to help & suggested nothing that I hadn't already tried. Even though the router where we suspected the problem lay was 10 years old & long out of warranty, their customer service was happy to help & gave me the clue I needed. I still don't understand why it didn't work & now it does but I don't care. I promise not to be so boring from now on. 

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Computer woes

Yeah so nice to get a brand spanking new computer but why can't I connect to wifi & why does my VPN only let me connect through Romania? It's useless to look at pages of abbreviations & numbers. I want someone to come here & fix it. I suspect it will take 5 minutes if they know what they're doing. Meanwhile, I try the exact same things over & over, which I know is fruitless. 

 

I am eating a salad of cabbage & romaine. It's not bad but it makes me want a hamburger. 

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New

I've been getting by with a 2012 MacBook Pro for quite a while. It's a real workhorse & the great guys at Simple Mac put in a new something & something else, & it's been good as new long past when I would usually have traded it in. But too many little things have started to go wrong & it was time. The best part about my new MacBook Air was meeting the terrific salesperson, a young musician named Kiet Tai Cao with a beautiful voice, who's finishing an album about his childhood home, with each song representing a room in the house. (I'm nervously doing the transfer from this computer to the new one so I can't really say a best thing about it. If the transfer works & I can seamlessly start up where I left off, well, that'll be great.)

 

Cut 4" off my hair. So far exactly no one has noticed.

 

And bought a cooling t-shirt with high hopes that I won't be slain by yet another record-heat summer. 

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What I'm reading

All the Great masters, ancient and modern, plagiarized Homer, and Homer plagiarized God.

~ Stéphane Mallarmé

 

One Toss of the Dice: The incredible story of how a poem made us modern by R. Howard Bloch is a biography of Mallarmé and his poem "One Toss of the Dice." The author makes the case that Mallarmé's experiments with syntax & layout are a forerunner of modern poetry, as well as cubism, hypertexts, Eliot & more. His "use of space and design to render meaning was an early version of Marshall McLuhan's famous dictum 'the medium is the message'." An attempt to "recover in time the fullness that is outside of time." Mallarmé "tried to raise a page to the power of the starry sky," Valéry said. 

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The day before

It was a Friday & Beth (nee Marybeth) & I were hitchhiking to Washington. She remembers us staying a day or 2 in Boston to learn pacifist techniques. Did we have sleeping bags? I think we simply threw ourselves on the ground on the Mall, waiting for the next day's demonstration. I don't remember seeing any of the bands or speeches. Beth woke up smiling & the young man who happened to be sleeping next to her was smitten. That was Wayne, one of the Air Force hippies I met that day. My life changed forever. I found my people, my place, confirmation of my values. They are still my people, my place, my values, my friends, my soul. 

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Friends

A New York day: coffee with Becky, who came to town from her upstate village to hang out & see people. Chitchat with Lou, who called me El-Ignore. Yes! There seem always be new names for me, even if they aren't all that nice (but funny). Then lunch with Yukie, full of laughs & memories & indignations. I'm on my own for dinner, Johnny calls to say; he's going out with his older son. I'll go home & lie around in the sun. Life how I like it. 

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Poem of the Week

Epitaph

 

Over my dead body!

 

 

 

Epitafium

 

Over min døde kropp!

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Bloggety blog

Maybe I needed the 200 pounds that my head weighed last week to contain thoughts. I don't seem to have any left. I go to karate, I go to my office, I add some commas, I delete some commas (not comas) & for comic relief, I sneak in a semi-colon. What have I forgotten? I dreamed I wondered if my mother was still playing a lot of bridge. 

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A walk across Spain

Maggie is walk El Camino for the next several weeks. She left Friday for Madrid and started her walk today: 18 miles across this landscape. The idea never appealed to me till I saw a few of her photos & then I thought, sure! I'd like to meet every inch of the country, once of my favorites in the world. 

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Monday Quote

Change was such an elusive thing. A man could say every day that he wanted to change his life, was going to change it, and every day the lament became merely a part of the life he was already living, so that the desire for change was in fact a kind of stasis that allowed the unchanged life to continue, because at least the man knew to disapprove of it, which reassured him not all was lost.

~ Rachel Kushner, The Mars Room

 

Ah, the many ways we fool ourselves. How many ways to walk around the truth & call it something else. 

 

I read a very good & tragic story of hers recently called "A King Alone."

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Sunday in the East Village

A flowering tree across the street from me. 

I'm alive! It was touch & go for the last few days, with a head that weighed 200 pounds making it hard to do much. I don't know how people with chronic ill health manage to do anything. I know I KNOW I wasn't even really sick, allergies is all, but despite being utterly bored with myself, I couldn't think about anything else. Ugh & ugh. In a few minutes, I go to celebrate Johnny's 4 score (tomorrow) with his 3 kids & most of the grandkids. He was born as much after the Civil War as it's been since the end of WWII. His birth, that is, is equidistant between now & the Civil War. I am unable to grasp the nature of Time. 

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Baaaaaaack I am

Passover is over, the Great Matzo Shortage of 2023 resolved as the holiday ended & I was given a box of the now-superfluous stuff. My near-fatal allergies are letting up. No, not melodramatic at all, why do you ask? The weather has gone from a quixotic hope for April snow to 87° & I only hope to survive a summer where July starts in April. However, it's not too humid so maybe I'll live. i've paid my taxes, taken another load to the Little Free Library, caught up on this & that. Back on Monday in full vigor! 

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Allergies or a cold?

My post disappeared, sigh, it was barely worth writing once let alone recreating but I said that the Times had a piece today on how to tell whether it's allergies or a cold, just when I was wondering exactly that. Pretty sure it's allergies, not that I'm suffering less for knowing it. 

 

I took a nap & feel a smidgin more resolute. 

 

That's all. 

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Monday Quote

I was "political" not just because I was involved, but in feeling I must choose to defend a good cause against a bad one. Auden remarked to me at the end of the war that he was political in the 1930s just because he thought something could and should be done. On the other hand, I never felt that the writers who did not feel this obligation were wrong. They might be concerned with values beyond action which, after all. alone justify action and therefore must not be allowed to lapse. Or they might be witnesses of a fatalism and despair which were equally important truths for the human soul as the "il faut agir" [we must act] of André Malraux. Politics of a rather direct kind had become my experience, but I defended those who had other attitudes. 

~ Spender, World within World

 

I envied the painter's life ~ the way in which he is surrounded by the material of his art. A writer does not have a visible palette of words laid out before him into which he dips his pen, mixes them and lays them on the page. The painter can immerses himself in his work more than a writer, because painting is largely a craft, a sensuous activity with tangible material, whereas writing is largely cerebral.  

~ Ibid. 

 

Interesting that Spender's autobiography is not in the NYPL, but books about him are, including one by his son on growing up Spender. He's insightful on poetry & goes on rather too much psychoanalyzing himself, which is dated. I wanted to read it because of his connection to the Spanish Civil War & his poem "Port Bou." 

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Catching up

I forgot to say in advance that I'd be off for Pesach... which kind of snuck up on me... as all the holidays generally do... ones in the home are harder for me & this year there seems to be a matzo shortage in Manhattan. I went to at least 6 stores & no one had any. Except egg matzo, which is abominable. I'm still catching up in general from the last couple months of really bearing down. I'll be more interesting soon, I think. 

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Detail

In his autobiography World within World, Stephen Spender says that the art in which you hope to excel is the one for which you are willing to take immense pains over detail. I've had that same thought ~ when I'm working on a poem, every comma is a matter of consequence, every line break worth infinite thinking & rethinking. For most that I do "good enough" is good enough but in poetry, I not only take time, I love to keep turning the poem around & around. When I was writing So Late into the Night, I kept thinking up new challenges, so that I could keep rewriting it with additional strictures in the form. 

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Spring!

Spring is inevitable & I'm relaxing & enjoying it. Yes, I have given up my hope (though not my longing) for snow. I sat outside in the sun this afternoon, watching people go by in t-shirts, brightening like the forsythia to the sweet sounds of helicopters welcoming a future felon to his indictment on 34 felony counts. A lovely day! 

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Monday Quote

Poetry is not only dream or vision, it is the skeleton architecture of our lives.

~ Audre Lorde (my birthday twin)

 

Transitioning back from karate all day every day to where I live, the architecture of my life.

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Ah Paris

A ballet was obligatory in Act II of operas produced at the Paris Opera House in the 19th century, so that wealthy members of the Jockey Club could eat a leisurely dinner then arrive in time to see their mistresses dance. Wagner's Tännhauser was a flop in because he didn't write in a dance. 

 

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Karate karate karate

I'm shyly taking promotion this weekend to 4th degree black belt. Shy because it's a big step & I don't entirely believe that I'm qualified. All I do is practice practice practice. I'll be glad when this is finished & glad to have really learned & polished my material but it's consumed my time & attention for the last many weeks. I'm amazed I've done anything else. Maybe I haven't.

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From the vault

This was in Jeff Wright's Cover magazine in November of 1987. I sort of remember it but I would have probably guessed that the lines I recall were all in different poems. Is it my style? Was that my style in the '80s? Ice palace, huh ~ that's not a later obsession, apparently. Was there something secret about Johnny in that poem? Your guess is as good as mine.

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Me, age 7

Another artefact of Sioux Falls. 
 
 

More on the theme of haircuts. Basically, our moms cut our bangs at the very top of our foreheads, let them grow & whacked them again. My mom had better things to do & only cut mine when they covered my eyes. The good fortune in that is that I look good in this photo. No one who knows me takes more than 30 seconds to find me in this photo so I won't point me out. 

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Monday Quote

I've missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed. 

~ Basketball great Michael Jordan on putting in the work

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Me, age 6

White picket fence & all! Wish I could still sit on my heels like this. 

It's funny when a photo you don't remember evokes what you believe about your past. That I was always a reader. That I really did grow up in Leave It to Beaversville. That I have always owned a similar shirt ~ that my tastes were fixed early on. 

 

I believe the other girl is named K/Cathy Koons (sp) & lived next door to us. Despite my pretty sensational haircut, at one point around this time, I took it into my head (haha) to cut my own hair. My mother was so furious that I immediately & cravenly blamed C/Kathy. I don't remember if there were Consequences. Many years later ~ I mean, maybe 5 years ago ~ I finally told my mother the truth. The little girl she had blamed & badmouthed for decades was in fact not the culprit. She rejected it utterly. K/Cathy had ruined my 6-year-old looks & would forever be the villain of my childhood. C/Kathy, wherever you are, I'm sorry! 

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Snow, damnit

OK I'm not really hopeful. Instead, I'm reading a book called Northeaster about a blizzard that took place in Maine (on the day I was born! That was coincidental but adds to my pleasure). I know streets & lakes & roads that are mentioned. It made me intensely homesick for a minute, although not so much for Maine as for being 20 & footloose, with everything still to come. I'm happy to have met my friends & lived my life, happy to be me now, but there's some sorrow in having so much of it behind me. 

 

An hour after I wrote this, I ran across this quote from Dag Hammarskjold: Do not look back. And do not dream about the future, either...Your duty, your reward—your destiny—are here and now.

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5 tons

Some things that weigh 10,000 pounds: 

* A southern elephant seal, the world's largest carnivore.

* The African elephant.

* Many types of RV, trailers, and mobile homes.

* Certain construction vehicles such as bulldozers.

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In the neighborhood

Crocuses in the Liz Christy garden. 

It's officially spring, in fact it has been for a couple of days. I guess I can't remain in denial about that. However, it has snowed in NYC in April quite a few times, although the latest date, April 25, which saw 3", was in 1875. 

 

For some reason it makes me think of in the '60s when my mom (& many others) had a garden. All the moms grew potatoes & sometimes carrots. That's it. Potatoes & carrots. One, potatoes were the cheapest thing you could buy. Two, they always got pulled up way too early because no one knew how to anticipate a harvest.

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A New York education

Soon after I moved to NYC I saw a huge bug in my apartment. It freaked me out so much I called a neighbor, (half-)hysterical ("half" for dignity's sake), who was disgusted that I got so exercised over a waterbug, something I'd never seen before. Not long after that, I had a mouse & found myself, without expecting it, standing on a chair like a lady in a cartoon. Since then I've gotten inured & when I had rats recently, all I did was yell at them. Only when they didn't cower & bolt did I call the exterminator. OK, they definitely made me jumpy but I was willing to live & let live, except they came out all day long. I guess I'm a New Yorker now. 

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What I'm reading

World Within World is Stephen Spender's autobiography, republished after David Leavitt plagiarized from it in a 1994 novel, When England Slept. He wrote it at age 40 & looked back to his youth as though it had been a half century earlier. People got older faster then! He says he was too shy to take advantage of offered friendship from the likes of T.S. Eliot & Virginia Woolf, but he seems to have run in those crowds early on, perhaps as Auden's mentee from their college days. His explanations about poetry & schools are incisive & convincing. 

 

I wanted to read this book because of his poem about the Spanish Civil War, "Port Bou," a rare war poem that admits to fear:

I tell myself the shooting is only for practice,
And my body seems a cloth which the machine-gun stitches
Like a sewing machine, neatly, with cotton from a reel,
And the solitary, irregular, thin 'paffs' from the carbines
Draw on long needles white threads through my navel.

 

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From the vault

There's a part II to this silly note where I discover she's borrowed "baby sizzers from empty mayonnaise jar disguised as desk accessory" and signed

"I am so abused! I am so oppressed" I remain,

Upstairs."

 

We amused ourselves endlessly & still do. It's good to have a good friend

Upstairs

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