Events I'll miss while in Ireland...
Sam Cornish Retrospective Author(s): Sam Cornish
Category: Reading
Date: Feb 22, 2006
Time: 7:00 P.M.
Location: The Zora Neale Hurston Literary Center
Address: Simmons College
300 The Fenway
Boston, MA
Someone please report on this for me...
*
Feb 25: Sam Witt & Keith Waldrop
at P.A.'s Lounge, 345 Somerville Ave. in Somerville, Mass.
Reading begins at 5:30 pm.
www.unionsquarepoetryseries.blogspot.com
*
Cat Power
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Berklee Performance Center
136 Massachusetts Avenue
Boston, Massachusetts 02115
8:00 pm
$25
w/ Memphis Rhythm Band
*
& I'll miss you but not you or you.
*
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Friday, November 18, 2005
finally it has all come to this which is no way to begin at the beginning takes a specific knowledge of what is involved & what is not is what we've come here to discuss why else would you be here no one else is who you think you are special unique which cannot be more or less but a simple state like concepts in a row that help people understand the transitions between things there is a long flat space that is where we are nothing grows nothing improves with age it just gets old men are always looking for control there is no helping it work through the hole is round and will engulf the entire struggle if allowed
Monday, June 20, 2005
We begin talking when left alone.
We talk about the burden of talking & about how our talking is different from other talking.
Other talking is mere talking. Our talking is an experience. Our talking is Whiteheadian in method. Our talking is free jazz. Our talking consumes its own metaphors. What has their talking ever done? Now that I think of it what has your talking ever done? So I should say my talking is different from other talking. My talking consumes its own metaphors.
But secretly my talking is middlebrow & so recycles. My talking, I admit, is mostly self-help. My talking is your high school English teacher, a metaphor I resemble & have failed to consume. My talking fails to consume its metaphors & is not very different from your talking after all.
Not very different, but different nevertheless. Six-percent different? One out of every, say, seventeen utterances (give or take) is more politically committed or more poetically challenging or more rhetorically charged. One out of every seventeen isn't so bad.
Others, with a higher percentage, are the poets and writers and bloggers and emailers and letter writers to the editor whom I admire. I want to become them. I want to grow my percentage of difference. I want my annual rate of growth in different talking to exceed any increase in my overall appetite for talking.
I want new words for you. Words to give you. New ways of putting them together to say new things. New talking for you. (Do you hear the you narrowing?) & I want new ways of talking with you. New ways of words being between us. I want our talking to be different from other talking. I confess, your talking has done great things. Your talking made me forsake all other talking. There is no talking other than your talking which has to do with your words sure but then there's your voice too. A voice & a body go hand-in-hand, an unconsumed metaphor. Your voice & body go hand-in-hand while I'm over here just talking. Just talking & losing the sense of your talking. Your voice as a voice being heard but not talking. Your voice then a body outside your body but that is inside my body. That's were your voice goes eventually. So where does the talking go. The talking stays inbetween.
At the beginning I imagined that I was talking. I imagined talking while left alone with you but then I started writing instead -- writing while imagining talking. & then I imagined the talking itself but I was writing all the while not talking. I thought I was talking but I was writing. & then I finally imagined you. & at this point I realized I was writing not talking & I stopped hearing voice. Before I realized I was writing not talking, I heard voices. Voices that were talking & that became writing. Then I realized I was writing & I was alone with the idea of you but you were gone & I was writing about the idea of talking but the talking was gone. Now I'm left with all this writing.
We talk about the burden of talking & about how our talking is different from other talking.
Other talking is mere talking. Our talking is an experience. Our talking is Whiteheadian in method. Our talking is free jazz. Our talking consumes its own metaphors. What has their talking ever done? Now that I think of it what has your talking ever done? So I should say my talking is different from other talking. My talking consumes its own metaphors.
But secretly my talking is middlebrow & so recycles. My talking, I admit, is mostly self-help. My talking is your high school English teacher, a metaphor I resemble & have failed to consume. My talking fails to consume its metaphors & is not very different from your talking after all.
Not very different, but different nevertheless. Six-percent different? One out of every, say, seventeen utterances (give or take) is more politically committed or more poetically challenging or more rhetorically charged. One out of every seventeen isn't so bad.
Others, with a higher percentage, are the poets and writers and bloggers and emailers and letter writers to the editor whom I admire. I want to become them. I want to grow my percentage of difference. I want my annual rate of growth in different talking to exceed any increase in my overall appetite for talking.
I want new words for you. Words to give you. New ways of putting them together to say new things. New talking for you. (Do you hear the you narrowing?) & I want new ways of talking with you. New ways of words being between us. I want our talking to be different from other talking. I confess, your talking has done great things. Your talking made me forsake all other talking. There is no talking other than your talking which has to do with your words sure but then there's your voice too. A voice & a body go hand-in-hand, an unconsumed metaphor. Your voice & body go hand-in-hand while I'm over here just talking. Just talking & losing the sense of your talking. Your voice as a voice being heard but not talking. Your voice then a body outside your body but that is inside my body. That's were your voice goes eventually. So where does the talking go. The talking stays inbetween.
At the beginning I imagined that I was talking. I imagined talking while left alone with you but then I started writing instead -- writing while imagining talking. & then I imagined the talking itself but I was writing all the while not talking. I thought I was talking but I was writing. & then I finally imagined you. & at this point I realized I was writing not talking & I stopped hearing voice. Before I realized I was writing not talking, I heard voices. Voices that were talking & that became writing. Then I realized I was writing & I was alone with the idea of you but you were gone & I was writing about the idea of talking but the talking was gone. Now I'm left with all this writing.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
The notebooks are skinnydipping on the web.
The notebooks want to confess. To you.
The notebooks want to be read & they want to disavow their contents. The notebooks want it both ways.
The notebooks are plugs & outlets.
The notebooks will not keep their mouths (i.e. covers) shut.
The notebooks insult your intelligence.
The notebooks could fall into the wrong hands. You'd love that. Wouldn't you? Admit it. Come on, admit it.
The notebooks are desperate to fall into the wrong hands. The notebooks are on your side. The notebooks will be on the traitors list. My traitors list if I had a traitors list. Do I believe in a traitors list? Do you believe in a traitors list?
We were innocent without hands.
I now look differently at the word intelligence. Know what I mean? Go look it up for yourself.
The notebooks, finally, are a fiction. Go back to what you were doing. It was, no doubt, more important than this.
The notebooks want to confess. To you.
The notebooks want to be read & they want to disavow their contents. The notebooks want it both ways.
The notebooks are plugs & outlets.
The notebooks will not keep their mouths (i.e. covers) shut.
The notebooks insult your intelligence.
The notebooks could fall into the wrong hands. You'd love that. Wouldn't you? Admit it. Come on, admit it.
The notebooks are desperate to fall into the wrong hands. The notebooks are on your side. The notebooks will be on the traitors list. My traitors list if I had a traitors list. Do I believe in a traitors list? Do you believe in a traitors list?
We were innocent without hands.
I now look differently at the word intelligence. Know what I mean? Go look it up for yourself.
The notebooks, finally, are a fiction. Go back to what you were doing. It was, no doubt, more important than this.
Monday, June 13, 2005
{Revised}
I jotted down all but a few lines of the following lines during interstices in yesterday's Joe Torra/Jim Dunn reading outside Toast in the Aspen shade of Union Square, Somerville. When I got to school this morning I found out a former student (one I know well) was in a bad car accident over the weekend...
Carland Torture
so much potential death
& then it happens
wha'ppen?
Bars & sutures
Keepin wha thegither?
wha frum m'self?
Y'cannae ta'it wi'yeh.
Sad torture.
Yr eyes stuck open
'til they dry.
Growth on yr throat.
Y'cannae coff i'owt.
Agonychrist-w/-us:
Ghosts steal lost keys
Ghost's steel: lost, missed.
Finger keys. Lingers there.
Mist: the pavement haze:
[unintelligible]
What happened?
I jotted down all but a few lines of the following lines during interstices in yesterday's Joe Torra/Jim Dunn reading outside Toast in the Aspen shade of Union Square, Somerville. When I got to school this morning I found out a former student (one I know well) was in a bad car accident over the weekend...
Carland Torture
so much potential death
& then it happens
wha'ppen?
Bars & sutures
Keepin wha thegither?
wha frum m'self?
Y'cannae ta'it wi'yeh.
Sad torture.
Yr eyes stuck open
'til they dry.
Growth on yr throat.
Y'cannae coff i'owt.
Agonychrist-w/-us:
Ghosts steal lost keys
Ghost's steel: lost, missed.
Finger keys. Lingers there.
Mist: the pavement haze:
[unintelligible]
What happened?
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Themes in Literature
No, really it's true. That wasn't just to say so.
*
Go ahead. Come on... Just this once. It's all I ask. Do you really have anything better to do?
*
You've got two choices: laugh or cry. O.K. three: laugh and/or cry.
*
here
then
gone
*
& in the end
*
"What is this quintessence of dust?"
*
It's what dust does between the parentheses.
*
"The rest is silence."
No, really it's true. That wasn't just to say so.
*
Go ahead. Come on... Just this once. It's all I ask. Do you really have anything better to do?
*
You've got two choices: laugh or cry. O.K. three: laugh and/or cry.
*
here
then
gone
*
& in the end
*
"What is this quintessence of dust?"
*
It's what dust does between the parentheses.
*
"The rest is silence."
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Misreadings of Hamlet are preferable to an oral history in which a mother is proud of her sons for fighting in Iraq, fighting to avenge the attacks of 9/11. I get angry at & on behalf of ignorance. Mother has nightmares about her sons. I've had nightmares about my brother. My brother, in one dream, returns from Iraq only to be stabbed in a poolhall in Ohio. His attacker later appears at a family picnic. I look at my dad and other brother. I know what I have to do. I wander the streets of Cleveland {I've never been} looking for the attacker, another Marine. Over the phone I half hear {from who?} that my brother has died or he's walked out of the hospital before his time. Either way before-his-time. I look & look. Down alleys. Through cold cross winds. All the buildings shuttered. Another brother shows up -- like he's always been there -- then he goes. I fade out; it's an off-white, pale scene.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
My work is a bubble burst long ago.
My work doesn't.
My work begins at 7:30 but I arrive between half six and seven.
My work es mi trabajo.
My work es mis obras maestras.
My work coughs and sputters like the malfuctioning automaton in all those sci-fi shows I watched evenings and weekends as a kid.
My work is a body. The body is over seven feet tall. This allows me extra space to work on the body. I'm a klutz.
My work is plagiarized but new.
My work never ends but deadens.
My work is here. I am home now.
My work knows where you live. Read that as a threat but know in your heart-of-hearts that we'd prefer a heartfelt letter or heartrending email. Anything but silence.
My work knows the rest is silence.
My work keeps me up nights.
My work pays. My work spends. My work is in debt.
My work likes your work and would like to get together for drinks.
My work would prefer to drink on the job.
My work doesn't.
My work begins at 7:30 but I arrive between half six and seven.
My work es mi trabajo.
My work es mis obras maestras.
My work coughs and sputters like the malfuctioning automaton in all those sci-fi shows I watched evenings and weekends as a kid.
My work is a body. The body is over seven feet tall. This allows me extra space to work on the body. I'm a klutz.
My work is plagiarized but new.
My work never ends but deadens.
My work is here. I am home now.
My work knows where you live. Read that as a threat but know in your heart-of-hearts that we'd prefer a heartfelt letter or heartrending email. Anything but silence.
My work knows the rest is silence.
My work keeps me up nights.
My work pays. My work spends. My work is in debt.
My work likes your work and would like to get together for drinks.
My work would prefer to drink on the job.
Friday, April 29, 2005
imagine my surprise what have you been up to and then the stampede the going over the coming under the several instances of heartbreak and failure to recognize the circumstances the blossoms the blossoms the blossoms are not what we wanted them to be so hold on to exterior signs as subterranean currents turn awry the name is action the pale cast of thought includes the guy from the movie the actress from the film where have you been i've been waiting
Friday, April 08, 2005
For Love Mutation
It wishes they would come untrue.
Echo of only up yours: stumble
into the confessional. They're mind-
less to say anything. It's all reruns.
Speaking of the devil, caustic
drivel repairs its own love. Wooden
ether not the moon but pretentious.
Finally, what is it can't stand
alone. Stadium pain. Minor repairs
in the infrastructure that it had to
but just couldn't transplant. Company
man better creep. Tag, you're it.
It wishes they would come untrue.
Echo of only up yours: stumble
into the confessional. They're mind-
less to say anything. It's all reruns.
Speaking of the devil, caustic
drivel repairs its own love. Wooden
ether not the moon but pretentious.
Finally, what is it can't stand
alone. Stadium pain. Minor repairs
in the infrastructure that it had to
but just couldn't transplant. Company
man better creep. Tag, you're it.
Monday, April 04, 2005
CHANGES INSIDE STARS
With complete attention he *took hold of* C.R.'s question. He rolled it over. Looked at the belly of it. Considered it. Then answered. The answer was more sincere than it needed to be. The question was loaded, had an agenda. (What question doesn't? How gullible do you think we are?) He knew the question had an agenda but answered through it. Not in spite of it. But *by way of* it. The answer was not of tremendous use. Not really. But the seriousness of the answer confirmed the agenda *as* a stance towards language and the world but not as a focus of attention. The answer -- the answer w/in the answer -- was get on w/ it. Get down to it. So we did.
I had been reading his Collected Poems. I would soon be reading his correspondence with C.O. I was an apprentice. I am an apprentice.
With complete attention he *took hold of* C.R.'s question. He rolled it over. Looked at the belly of it. Considered it. Then answered. The answer was more sincere than it needed to be. The question was loaded, had an agenda. (What question doesn't? How gullible do you think we are?) He knew the question had an agenda but answered through it. Not in spite of it. But *by way of* it. The answer was not of tremendous use. Not really. But the seriousness of the answer confirmed the agenda *as* a stance towards language and the world but not as a focus of attention. The answer -- the answer w/in the answer -- was get on w/ it. Get down to it. So we did.
I had been reading his Collected Poems. I would soon be reading his correspondence with C.O. I was an apprentice. I am an apprentice.
Friday, April 01, 2005
People are having fun with poems but I'm not.
People are fighting with weapons and without but I'm not.
People are dead or are near death but I'm not.
People are investigating the phrase "near death" but I'm not.
People are making things happen in a proactive manner but I'm not.
People are getting their shit together but I'm not.
People are fed up but I'm not.
People are thinking before speaking but I'm not.
People are seeing then believing but I'm not.
People are getting an education but I'm not.
People are planning to do something about it but I'm not.
People are buying now and paying later but I'm not.
People are working hard for the money but I'm not.
People are stealing from Peter to give to Paul but I'm not.
People are willing to go to jail to stand up for what they believe in but I'm not.
People are neither here nor there but I'm not.
People are fighting with weapons and without but I'm not.
People are dead or are near death but I'm not.
People are investigating the phrase "near death" but I'm not.
People are making things happen in a proactive manner but I'm not.
People are getting their shit together but I'm not.
People are fed up but I'm not.
People are thinking before speaking but I'm not.
People are seeing then believing but I'm not.
People are getting an education but I'm not.
People are planning to do something about it but I'm not.
People are buying now and paying later but I'm not.
People are working hard for the money but I'm not.
People are stealing from Peter to give to Paul but I'm not.
People are willing to go to jail to stand up for what they believe in but I'm not.
People are neither here nor there but I'm not.
Monday, March 21, 2005
The rest of this...
The rest of this was over before it began.
The rest of this is from the part of the dream you forgot.
The rest of this is incommensurate with your exqusite taste in word play.
The rest of this has a curfew.
The rest of this is taking Friday off to shop at the Mall of America.
The rest of this aspires to be the Mall of America.
The rest of this suddenly cries for no particular reason.
The rest of this is anti-corporate despite appearances. No, really.
The rest of this has been suspected of having the "Irish flu".
The rest of this will be just like that which came before only more so.
The rest of this would like to collaborate with you.
The rest of this is the rest of this.
The rest of this was over before it began.
The rest of this is from the part of the dream you forgot.
The rest of this is incommensurate with your exqusite taste in word play.
The rest of this has a curfew.
The rest of this is taking Friday off to shop at the Mall of America.
The rest of this aspires to be the Mall of America.
The rest of this suddenly cries for no particular reason.
The rest of this is anti-corporate despite appearances. No, really.
The rest of this has been suspected of having the "Irish flu".
The rest of this will be just like that which came before only more so.
The rest of this would like to collaborate with you.
The rest of this is the rest of this.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
In case you were wondering...
Two sick adults, one healthy baby.
The Grave of Fireflies is a sad film.
Garden State is a bad film.
If one of the two sick adults becomes unsick that one hopes to join the protest on the Commons tomorrow...I love walking down the middle of streets but I do not like people shouting things I do not agree with in a human parade in which I'm a participant. But I do like shouting. If it's imaginative.
Van Lear Rose is a good album.
Woman King is a good e.p.
Thinking in terms of x is y is a relief when fighting headaches.
"You should be ashamed of yourself for removing 'I think" from the 'x is y' equation."
I am.
If you have them handy or can go get them, read Alice Notely's poems "The Two Cities Contrasted", "Constantinople", and "The City Drifting" instead of reading the rest of this. I am tempted to re-read them instead of writing the rest of this. I will succomb to temptation.
Two sick adults, one healthy baby.
The Grave of Fireflies is a sad film.
Garden State is a bad film.
If one of the two sick adults becomes unsick that one hopes to join the protest on the Commons tomorrow...I love walking down the middle of streets but I do not like people shouting things I do not agree with in a human parade in which I'm a participant. But I do like shouting. If it's imaginative.
Van Lear Rose is a good album.
Woman King is a good e.p.
Thinking in terms of x is y is a relief when fighting headaches.
"You should be ashamed of yourself for removing 'I think" from the 'x is y' equation."
I am.
If you have them handy or can go get them, read Alice Notely's poems "The Two Cities Contrasted", "Constantinople", and "The City Drifting" instead of reading the rest of this. I am tempted to re-read them instead of writing the rest of this. I will succomb to temptation.
Friday, November 05, 2004
This is a response to a chart at http://attenuation.net/files/iq.htm
Hmmm...
I think the attenuation.net IQ table is a bit strange. Haven't left-leaning folks been saying for years that IQ tests are culturally biased? Now that it's convenient we're citing them as proof that people who voted for Bush are stupider than people who voted for Kerry? Seems to me that you can't have it both ways. & if blue state Kerry-supporters are going to indulge in Social Darwinian rhetoric I want off the bus.
I'm with Chris Stroffolino who wrote on the Buffalo poetics list the other day about trying to understand why people are often voting against their economic interests. What do people mean when they cite *values* as a reason for voting to Bush? Why don't Kerry's values including civic service--a *value* he's lived (whether you agree w/ his service or not)--register with enough people in the so-called heartland?
I've been reading exit polls from each state. I've been trying to read press reports from the red states. & I plan to read Frank's _What's the Matter with Kansas?_ as soon as I can. I need to understand this better.
I don't think it's a matter of IQ, though it might be a matter of education & information. For example, exit polls seem to indicate that many voters have conflated "Iraq" & "terrorism". & those who watch Fox News as their primary source of journalism are more likely than not to believe Saddam Hussein was directly involved in the terrorist attacks against the United States (See: _Outfoxed_).
To say people are too stupid to know better is also to say they're not responsible for their vote & to say that nothing can be done to make sure this doesn't keep happening. Winter in New England is long enough without heaping political fatalism on top of the pain I'm already feeling.
I wonder if others have opinions about this. (&, yes, I realize that I have a tendency to take jokes too seriously sometimes. Hello, my name is E(a)rnest.)
James
Hmmm...
I think the attenuation.net IQ table is a bit strange. Haven't left-leaning folks been saying for years that IQ tests are culturally biased? Now that it's convenient we're citing them as proof that people who voted for Bush are stupider than people who voted for Kerry? Seems to me that you can't have it both ways. & if blue state Kerry-supporters are going to indulge in Social Darwinian rhetoric I want off the bus.
I'm with Chris Stroffolino who wrote on the Buffalo poetics list the other day about trying to understand why people are often voting against their economic interests. What do people mean when they cite *values* as a reason for voting to Bush? Why don't Kerry's values including civic service--a *value* he's lived (whether you agree w/ his service or not)--register with enough people in the so-called heartland?
I've been reading exit polls from each state. I've been trying to read press reports from the red states. & I plan to read Frank's _What's the Matter with Kansas?_ as soon as I can. I need to understand this better.
I don't think it's a matter of IQ, though it might be a matter of education & information. For example, exit polls seem to indicate that many voters have conflated "Iraq" & "terrorism". & those who watch Fox News as their primary source of journalism are more likely than not to believe Saddam Hussein was directly involved in the terrorist attacks against the United States (See: _Outfoxed_).
To say people are too stupid to know better is also to say they're not responsible for their vote & to say that nothing can be done to make sure this doesn't keep happening. Winter in New England is long enough without heaping political fatalism on top of the pain I'm already feeling.
I wonder if others have opinions about this. (&, yes, I realize that I have a tendency to take jokes too seriously sometimes. Hello, my name is E(a)rnest.)
James
Friday, October 29, 2004
It is no longer early.
But it will soon be early again.
This is the way of gyres.
~
Christ's arrival : Babe Ruth's departure :: the rough beast's arrival : Nomar Garciapara's departure
~
In the poem solve for x. If x is given you are not reading a poem.
~
Curt Schilling should stick to pitching.
Sox owners support Kerry, though it seems John Henry has previously given to Republicans. See: www.campaignmoney.com/baseball/boston_red_sox.asp.
A-Rod & Steinbrenner support Bush.
~
Please vote for John Kerry on Tuesday.
Tuesday is the Day of the Dead.
It is also All Soul's Day.
slan,
Jamie
But it will soon be early again.
This is the way of gyres.
~
Christ's arrival : Babe Ruth's departure :: the rough beast's arrival : Nomar Garciapara's departure
~
In the poem solve for x. If x is given you are not reading a poem.
~
Curt Schilling should stick to pitching.
Sox owners support Kerry, though it seems John Henry has previously given to Republicans. See: www.campaignmoney.com/baseball/boston_red_sox.asp.
A-Rod & Steinbrenner support Bush.
~
Please vote for John Kerry on Tuesday.
Tuesday is the Day of the Dead.
It is also All Soul's Day.
slan,
Jamie
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Friday, October 15, 2004
October 14 Lists
Abigail
AbbyAis
bAbigirl
Baby Grail
Abigrail
Ironstonewhirlygig [Cried]
Utopian Politics
Poems of Paul Celan (trans. Felstiner)
The American Poetry Wax Museum
student personal essays
Lord of the Flies
Made in Texas
poetry manuscripts
half a tuna sub w/ pickles & hots from Mike's
three taquitos
a nuts, chocolate chips, and dried cherries trail mix
sumatra coffee (reheated in the microwave)
The Shape of Jazz to Come
On Fire
The Wayward Bus/Distant Plastic Trees
Luna e.p.
American Authors 12
English College Preparation 11
English Honors 11
Academic Time Management
Lunch Duty
English College Preparation 2 11
Teacher Preparation
Leslie O. Johnson Road
Blynman Avenue
Lincoln Avenue
Emerson Avenue
Centennial Avenue
Curtis Square
Whittemore Street
Washington Street
Knowlton Square
Abigail
AbbyAis
bAbigirl
Baby Grail
Abigrail
Ironstonewhirlygig [Cried]
Utopian Politics
Poems of Paul Celan (trans. Felstiner)
The American Poetry Wax Museum
student personal essays
Lord of the Flies
Made in Texas
poetry manuscripts
half a tuna sub w/ pickles & hots from Mike's
three taquitos
a nuts, chocolate chips, and dried cherries trail mix
sumatra coffee (reheated in the microwave)
The Shape of Jazz to Come
On Fire
The Wayward Bus/Distant Plastic Trees
Luna e.p.
American Authors 12
English College Preparation 11
English Honors 11
Academic Time Management
Lunch Duty
English College Preparation 2 11
Teacher Preparation
Leslie O. Johnson Road
Blynman Avenue
Lincoln Avenue
Emerson Avenue
Centennial Avenue
Curtis Square
Whittemore Street
Washington Street
Knowlton Square
Friday, September 03, 2004
"& what will I do with you; pink & blue, true gold, nine days old."
John Darnielle (The Mountain Goats)
This is Abby Ais' ninth day!
~
Is anyone out there doing anti-Bush/pro-Kerry political action in Southern NH?
Now is the time methinks. & NH is probably the only place someone from MA can make a real difference.
Any information? Any ideas?
Baby Bush & the Neocons cannot win.
~
Thank you to everyone who went to NYC this past week to speak out, demonstrate, and/or perform political theater.
slan,
Jamie
John Darnielle (The Mountain Goats)
This is Abby Ais' ninth day!
~
Is anyone out there doing anti-Bush/pro-Kerry political action in Southern NH?
Now is the time methinks. & NH is probably the only place someone from MA can make a real difference.
Any information? Any ideas?
Baby Bush & the Neocons cannot win.
~
Thank you to everyone who went to NYC this past week to speak out, demonstrate, and/or perform political theater.
slan,
Jamie
Saturday, August 28, 2004
[Revised post]
It lives!
If I haven't called you back yet...I will...soon.
I wrote this for Abigail Faulkner Aisling Cook [note the first "i" in "Aisling"; it's what gives the name its "sh" sound: ASH-ling] before I knew--at least for certain (more on that later) if she were a boy or (as my nephew sez) grail.
For Little Whomever Who Missed the DNC
& the zig zags say, Look at all the squares.
& the squares say, Hell yeah, y'all!
& the wonks say, Diddle-me do.
& the interns sweep up & look for theirs.
& the buttons & flyers & placards & posters can't stop saying.
& the fences have no place to go.
& the cops go boom-boom clickety-clack.
& the city goes ghost.
& the oysters go slurp & the beer goes glug.
& over there ka-ching & here hear a void.
& I'm a little zig-zag the squares can't see,
as the TV goes zub-zub long into the night.
"Look at all the squares" is borrowed from Patrick Doud.
Friend Josh Reynolds sez Abby'll be a Christian Conservative.
Ha, very funny.
Speaking of...sing loud all of you lefties in NYC!
Abby-Ais has come down stairs! (Not on her own, not yet, not for some time to come.)
Have you seen her photo over at A.'s site (ironstonewhirlygig.blogspot.com)? Have you? Go now!
Here's the story behind the names (in case you're wondering)...
Abigail Faulkner is one of A's forebears (in a direct line). She was convicted of witchcraft in August of 1692. Like Elizabeth Proctor's (you all know E.P., no?), her execution was postponed because she was pregnant. Like E.P., A.F. was not killed because key skeptics emerged and the executions were stopped.
More on A.F.: she gave her son a Hebrew name meaning "Our family has been shown mercy." (Me too! Where would I be w/o Amanda! w/o Abby!) Also important to the naming is A.F.'S father Francis Dane who spoke out against the trials before A.F. was accused. There's more to it but that's the gist.
(I'm typing one handed w/ my Aisling in my arms. Sorry if there're typos. I'm hardly reading 1/2f what I'm typing.)
In any case... Aisling means dream or vision...only my brother knew I'd had a dream that we were to have a girl (I was drunk when I told him; I don't remember it very well, like the dream itself).
Note on the Irish language:
(the Irish just call it "Irish" but Yanks insist on Gaelic--not differentiating between Scots-Gaelic & Irish...people correct me when I say "Aisling is Irish for vision or dream." They say "oh, [you mean] Gaelic." This also happens when I pronounce Celtic (as in the football club) w/ a soft "c"; they say "oh, [you mean] Keltic"; sometimes I explain how when Celtic was founded in 1888 "Seltic" was still the accepted pronunciation of both the club & the adjective form of Celts (then "Selts" now "Kelts"); through the 20th century the pronunciation shifted from "Seltic" to "Keltic" (as people using the word became aware of its etymology having (one source has it) to do w/ the Greek name for the Celts, apparently "Keltoi"). But the football club, named before the shift & having supporters unconcerned w/ academic matters of etymology & such , is still called "Seltic". That having been said I also accept that most Americans w/ an interested in Hibernian matters will say "Keltic" thinking the pronunciation of Boston "Seltics" is the result of American parochial ignorance. Not so. Or not exactly so at least.
Aisling is also a song by the maker Shane MacGowan:
Aisling
By Shane MacGowan (1994)
See the moon is once more rising
Above our our land of black and green
Hear the rebels voice is calling
"I shall not die, though you bury me!"
Hear the Aunt in bed a-dying
"Where is my Johnny?
"Faded pictures in the hallway
Which one of these brown ghosts is he?
Fare thee well my black haired diamond
Fare the well my own Aisling
Thoughts and dreams of you will haunt me
'Till I come back home again
And the wind it blows
To the North and South
And blows to the East and West
I'll be just like that wind my love
For I will have no rest
'Til I return to thee
Bless the wind that shakes the barley
Curse the spade and curse the plough
Waking in the morning early
I wish to Hell I was with you now
One, two, three, four telephone poles
Give me a drink of poitin
Madness from the mountains crawling
When I first met you my own Aisling
Fare thee well my black haired diamond
Fare the well my own Aisling
Thoughts of and dreams of you will haunt me
'Till I come back home again
Fare thee well my black haired diamond
Fare the well my own Aisling
Thoughts of and dreams of you will haunt me
'Till I come back home again
Lyrics from http://www.shanemacgowan.com/lyrics/aisling.shtml can't check this version vs. the album at the moment... Turns out I know one of the webmasters of shanemacgowan.com. Mick Madden was once a member of the Allston-Brighton Glasgow Celtic Supporters Club.
Abby & I are off to the study while mom gets some well deserved rest up stairs.
slan,
Jamie
It lives!
If I haven't called you back yet...I will...soon.
I wrote this for Abigail Faulkner Aisling Cook [note the first "i" in "Aisling"; it's what gives the name its "sh" sound: ASH-ling] before I knew--at least for certain (more on that later) if she were a boy or (as my nephew sez) grail.
For Little Whomever Who Missed the DNC
& the zig zags say, Look at all the squares.
& the squares say, Hell yeah, y'all!
& the wonks say, Diddle-me do.
& the interns sweep up & look for theirs.
& the buttons & flyers & placards & posters can't stop saying.
& the fences have no place to go.
& the cops go boom-boom clickety-clack.
& the city goes ghost.
& the oysters go slurp & the beer goes glug.
& over there ka-ching & here hear a void.
& I'm a little zig-zag the squares can't see,
as the TV goes zub-zub long into the night.
"Look at all the squares" is borrowed from Patrick Doud.
Friend Josh Reynolds sez Abby'll be a Christian Conservative.
Ha, very funny.
Speaking of...sing loud all of you lefties in NYC!
Abby-Ais has come down stairs! (Not on her own, not yet, not for some time to come.)
Have you seen her photo over at A.'s site (ironstonewhirlygig.blogspot.com)? Have you? Go now!
Here's the story behind the names (in case you're wondering)...
Abigail Faulkner is one of A's forebears (in a direct line). She was convicted of witchcraft in August of 1692. Like Elizabeth Proctor's (you all know E.P., no?), her execution was postponed because she was pregnant. Like E.P., A.F. was not killed because key skeptics emerged and the executions were stopped.
More on A.F.: she gave her son a Hebrew name meaning "Our family has been shown mercy." (Me too! Where would I be w/o Amanda! w/o Abby!) Also important to the naming is A.F.'S father Francis Dane who spoke out against the trials before A.F. was accused. There's more to it but that's the gist.
(I'm typing one handed w/ my Aisling in my arms. Sorry if there're typos. I'm hardly reading 1/2f what I'm typing.)
In any case... Aisling means dream or vision...only my brother knew I'd had a dream that we were to have a girl (I was drunk when I told him; I don't remember it very well, like the dream itself).
Note on the Irish language:
(the Irish just call it "Irish" but Yanks insist on Gaelic--not differentiating between Scots-Gaelic & Irish...people correct me when I say "Aisling is Irish for vision or dream." They say "oh, [you mean] Gaelic." This also happens when I pronounce Celtic (as in the football club) w/ a soft "c"; they say "oh, [you mean] Keltic"; sometimes I explain how when Celtic was founded in 1888 "Seltic" was still the accepted pronunciation of both the club & the adjective form of Celts (then "Selts" now "Kelts"); through the 20th century the pronunciation shifted from "Seltic" to "Keltic" (as people using the word became aware of its etymology having (one source has it) to do w/ the Greek name for the Celts, apparently "Keltoi"). But the football club, named before the shift & having supporters unconcerned w/ academic matters of etymology & such , is still called "Seltic". That having been said I also accept that most Americans w/ an interested in Hibernian matters will say "Keltic" thinking the pronunciation of Boston "Seltics" is the result of American parochial ignorance. Not so. Or not exactly so at least.
Aisling is also a song by the maker Shane MacGowan:
Aisling
By Shane MacGowan (1994)
See the moon is once more rising
Above our our land of black and green
Hear the rebels voice is calling
"I shall not die, though you bury me!"
Hear the Aunt in bed a-dying
"Where is my Johnny?
"Faded pictures in the hallway
Which one of these brown ghosts is he?
Fare thee well my black haired diamond
Fare the well my own Aisling
Thoughts and dreams of you will haunt me
'Till I come back home again
And the wind it blows
To the North and South
And blows to the East and West
I'll be just like that wind my love
For I will have no rest
'Til I return to thee
Bless the wind that shakes the barley
Curse the spade and curse the plough
Waking in the morning early
I wish to Hell I was with you now
One, two, three, four telephone poles
Give me a drink of poitin
Madness from the mountains crawling
When I first met you my own Aisling
Fare thee well my black haired diamond
Fare the well my own Aisling
Thoughts of and dreams of you will haunt me
'Till I come back home again
Fare thee well my black haired diamond
Fare the well my own Aisling
Thoughts of and dreams of you will haunt me
'Till I come back home again
Lyrics from http://www.shanemacgowan.com/lyrics/aisling.shtml can't check this version vs. the album at the moment... Turns out I know one of the webmasters of shanemacgowan.com. Mick Madden was once a member of the Allston-Brighton Glasgow Celtic Supporters Club.
Abby & I are off to the study while mom gets some well deserved rest up stairs.
slan,
Jamie
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