In commemoration of my upcoming one-year blogging anniversary, I’m referencing Why Blog? Why Now? using it as a foil for reviewing the year-to-date. As the introductory post written on 8/30/13, it serves as a starting point for re-assessing goals stated therein: whether they were met and/or if they’ve changed. I guess you could say this is a sort-of evaluation post, re-examining the purpose of the blog along with how to proceed into its second year.
Why Blog? Why Now?
The obvious answer to this is of course, ‘Why not?’ Comment: And thus began my official entry into the blogosphere… Continue reading →
The voice of the didgeridoo was a call from far away, from centuries back. If you pressed your ear to the ground, Mattie thought, this was the tone the earth would make. The music resonated like an ancient god, or what desert winds must have sounded like to the first ears on earth. She closed her eyes again. She felt doomed, and lumpy, fat and old. She tried to recall the women from church, their triumphant wideness, centered and vigorous, and this helped. Ella clung to her like a baby Koala. Mattie nuzzled her, snorfled her neck. The didgeridoo sounded like an enormous animal panting at the end of its life. Mattie looked up and found Daniel standing before her, lifting her daughter into his arms. He held her in front of his chest, his long hands knitted together effortlessly to make a seat in which round, rosy Ella perched, somewhat worried but curious.
‘Want to dance?’ he asked her. ‘I’m probably the only person you know who can dance to the didgeridoo.’ Ella thought this over, tugging on her chin like an alchemist.
Mattie opened her fingers slowly to she could peek in at the little rubber shoe, as if examining a poker hand. Harry and Al were talking, and Daniel still held Ella in his arms, turning in slow circles. Mattie watched, listened, breathed in deep and slow: if the sound of the didgeridoo was a color, it would be rich and earthy, plant purple, like eggplant with light behind it.
*really didn’t like the book, but this quote was worth the read.
Triage by Lisel Mueller
from: Alive Together (new and selected poems)
“Bertolt Brecht lamented that he lived in an age when it was almost a crime to talk about trees, because that meant being silent about so much evil. Walking past a stand of tall, still healthy elms along Chicago’s lakefront, I think of what Brecht said. I want to celebrate these elms which have been spared by the plague, these survivors of a once flourishing tribe commemorated by all the Elm Streets in America. But to celebrate them is to be silent about the people who sit and sleep underneath them, the homeless poor who are hauled away by the city like trash, except it has no place to dump them. To speak of one thing is to suppress another. When I talk about myself, I cannot talk about you. You know this as you listen to me, disappointment settling in your face.”
‘Every time I open a book or sit down at my desk, I’m hoping for confirmation that it is possible to understand and be understood by my fellow human beings.’ Kevin Powers
I have mentioned before that one of the guiding forces behind my starting this website/blog has been to showcase the vignettes written during our three-year journey between homes. I have been in the process of ordering these vignettes into a completed manuscript for quite some time and continue to come up short. And frustrated. Continue reading →