Kansas Is Full of Good Men

 

There are things not even
a poem of infinite
craft can carve into a cup small enough
that it might fit into hands,
our only-a-few-days hands,
and lift to the mouth, the lips
thirsty for days yet come when, and only when,
only after all days are said and done.

Sure as the sun on the days when we are thirsty
for the quiet assurance of rain on the roof-
sure as the sun reminds us of our duty
to welcome the new seasons and wait for the old,
failure litters the path to Pisgah
and fingers close over my face so that-
how do I say that I can’t bare to see
the smallness of the portion of the vision I’ll behold
all through the wait for all days to be
said, sung, and told.

You know, the faux folks in costume, in character,
watching makers dictate
strange worlds of the same old possibilities
embraced by upside down limits
on how many moves you can make per game-

the petit voices of the poets buried
in ground and above ground buried in novels
the joy of scholars living in the words of ancient worlds-

How do I show that not all recluses and reality deniers
are rejecting “the real.”
Perhaps they/me are instead aching for the ideal,
drowning in the blue longing for a place
where evil beheaded doesn’t grow two,
where love has happy endings not painful
fading out of life and passion lost
in order to survive, thrive, win friends, and influence people.

Quite Possibly on the Wrong Side of Midnight

[Today's daily post asked: Where were you last night when 2012 turned into 2013? Is that where you’d wanted to be?]

I didn’t notice when the figurative clock in my traditional-clock-free-home struck midnight, and I was too absorbed in writing a reflective New Year’s Eve post to see midnight return that strike with a vicious left hook. Too bad. I hear it was a great fight; clock boxing never gets old. As 2012 rolled over and conceded the title to 2013, I was at home, contentedly writing a list of all the things I’d learned this year.

Home is a basement apartment near the University of Maryland. The house was built in the 50′s, and my walls are almost all knotty pine paneling (and I’m blonde….I might as well start calling myself Betty Draper). I have a second hand table and vintage 70′s desk chair in the corner. I like to adjust the lighting so that it’s bright enough to read, but still ambient. Then I light a couple candles, turn on my illuminated globe, and immerse myself  in whatever ever I’m currently reading or studying (last night I was reading Myths of the Pagan North by Christopher Abram). I can spend hours this way, stopping every now and then to brew a new cup of tea, check facebook, or look up something on wikipedia or my globe.

Salvador Dali also enjoyed Clock Boxing

I suppose some people, particularly people my own age, might give me a weird look if I told them that my ideal evening, on a night traditionally marked by indulgence and care free celebration, would be to take a shower then sit at my desk reading and learning late into the night. I would probably enjoy that weird look. I usually do. I would probably get an even weirder look if I said my evening actually led me to a new found appreciation of Wagner; that I spent the night listening to the entire prelude to the Ring Cycle while reading up on the opera, its creation, and it’s connections to Tolkien’s One Ring.

•••

Mini Cooper has this “inspirational” ad called “Not Normal” running right now. It shows you scenes of poor office people bored, a wife and husband having a boring breakfast together, a boring pair of shoes, and a boring computer programing job. Mini Cooper then shows you what “Not Normal” looks like. Not normal consists mainly of live bands with light shows, dangerous escapades by a youth that are free from the need to earn money.

#NYE So Long 2012, You’ve Actually Been Rather Helpful

So long 2012. You’ve been an awful year at first glance, but then again I’ve learned so much this year. I’ve learned about perseverance, about the importance of Christian fellowship, more about the importance of The Fellowship (of the Ring, duh), and the history of Iceland, Norse mythology, and Vikings. I’ve learned how to handle big set backs and feeling directionless. My belief that Will Ferrel is never going to stop being hilarious has been reinforced. I’ve gotten better at understanding my family and trusting my friends. I’ve learned that a good roommate is better than living alone.

Throwing that nasty ring out, cause that’s how I do.

I’ve read so many great books and magazines and articles as well as so many entertaining imaginary texts from imaginary friends when I’m feeling awkward in public. I’ve learned that there are actually some good things about no longer being in college. I’ve gotten better at hanging pictures on the wall. My cooking skills have improved; I’ve added a mixed berry pie and innumerable variations on tofu to my repertoire. I learned about James Bond’s childhood, the fiscal cliff, Schrödinger’s cat, iphonography, and picked up some key geological terms.

While dabbling in gardening, I learned how hard it was. While dabbling in banjo, I learned that I am much better at reading a book and remembering everything in it than learning any skill that requires daily repetition. I have learned that this shortcoming is a big roadblock in exercising, getting better at the violin, being a successful blogger, and keeping acne under control. I have gotten better at exercising self-control at the computer and not binging on netflix (but I reserve the right to put aside this control when a new season of Parks & Rec, Downton Abby, The Office, 30 Rock, Psych, Once Upon a Time,  or HIMYM come out….so basically I’ve only learned self control because I’ve watched everything on Netflix already.)