The deadline for applying for the Columbus Arts Festival has passed. If you submitted your poems, thank you. I'm fairly certain there were a record number of applicants this year.
You know what that means, right?
Competition is going to be tough. Any poet appearing on that stage is going to earn that spot. And if that poet earns it, it should be considered a big accomplishment. In the past, sometimes it may have felt like a rubber stamp to appear at the Arts Festival. That anyone and everyone who submitted and auditioned got a slot. Not so this year, not even close. This also means that the quality of poetry on The Word is Art Stage is going to be exceptional. This was a goal, and it's going to be achieved once the auditions are completed.
I had a number of applicants in mind when I started, and got a chuckle in return so I lowered my sights and the final number came in between the original and revised numbers. I'm very pleased.
Speaking of record numbers, for some reason January 2013 has had a record number of page views here. Thanks to all of you for stopping by, wherever you are.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Sunday, January 27, 2013
The cheap felt that makes you happy
It was a banner shopping day, and not because I replenished the whiskey stock in the house. Or because I found out my debit card is cracked, yet still works so I no longer feel impotent. I've written about the skill crane before. My son likes to press the button when I get the claw in position, but I've never won with him present.
Not so today. After putting in my buck, which gives four plays, I lined up the claw and asked Neil to push the button. It went around the frog, grabbed it up and into the bin. Skill crane victory!
You would think the day is done after you win once, but we still have three plays left, so I looked for a brother to the Skill Crane Victory Frog. My son was excited as I lined up the claw and had another go.
I'd never won twice in a row before. My son was jumping up and down, clapping as the frog was deposited in the slot! I gave him one of the frogs, and he tried to put it back in the game through the glass, he just wanted to press the button and watch the claw.
Tried again, still had two plays left. Darn near pulled up the pink penguin, but it was not meant to be. Two wins on the skill crane, a day that will live forever.
Not so today. After putting in my buck, which gives four plays, I lined up the claw and asked Neil to push the button. It went around the frog, grabbed it up and into the bin. Skill crane victory!
You would think the day is done after you win once, but we still have three plays left, so I looked for a brother to the Skill Crane Victory Frog. My son was excited as I lined up the claw and had another go.
I'd never won twice in a row before. My son was jumping up and down, clapping as the frog was deposited in the slot! I gave him one of the frogs, and he tried to put it back in the game through the glass, he just wanted to press the button and watch the claw.
Tried again, still had two plays left. Darn near pulled up the pink penguin, but it was not meant to be. Two wins on the skill crane, a day that will live forever.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Neil's Page Turner
Stillness is difficult in my son. From the moment he wakes up, he is constantly in motion. It has always been hard, and rare, to be able to sit and read to him. He would always turn the pages out of my hands. When he does have a book, the pages turn quickly, as if he was thumbing through a magazine. I'm fairly certain he can read, but determining the level is difficult.
This afternoon my wife and I were lying on our bed, he was in his room and I asked him to come see us. He climbed on and played with my eyebrows for awhile, which has been one of his recent passions. He says "eyebrows" long and sinister.
After a while he went back to his room and starting repeating the same nonsensical sentence over and over. I asked him to stop, to come see me and bring a book.
He brought this book with him. I opened it up and started to read. To my surprise he let me, leaning into me as I continued.
When I finished he said, "The end," took the book from me, closed it, handed the book back to me. I asked him what he wanted, he said, "Bears." "What about the bears?" I asked. "Book," was his reply.
Read the book five more times to him, trying to prompt him to say what he wanted. Got him to say "read" and "to me." It's very hard to draw meaningful words out of him, but for a few minutes on a Saturday afternoon something clicked between us a little.
This afternoon my wife and I were lying on our bed, he was in his room and I asked him to come see us. He climbed on and played with my eyebrows for awhile, which has been one of his recent passions. He says "eyebrows" long and sinister.
After a while he went back to his room and starting repeating the same nonsensical sentence over and over. I asked him to stop, to come see me and bring a book.
He brought this book with him. I opened it up and started to read. To my surprise he let me, leaning into me as I continued.
When I finished he said, "The end," took the book from me, closed it, handed the book back to me. I asked him what he wanted, he said, "Bears." "What about the bears?" I asked. "Book," was his reply.
Read the book five more times to him, trying to prompt him to say what he wanted. Got him to say "read" and "to me." It's very hard to draw meaningful words out of him, but for a few minutes on a Saturday afternoon something clicked between us a little.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
The timing that cuts deep
Been one of those nights when you pick up a book after wrestling with a scanner, and this is the second poem in the book.
A Fantasy
I'll tell you something: every day
people are dying. And that's just the beginning.
Every day, in funeral homes, new widows are born,
new orphans. They sit with their hands folded,
trying to decide about this new life.
Then they're in the cemetery, some of them
for the first time. They're frightened of crying,
sometimes of not crying. Someone leans over,
tells them what to do next, which might mean
saying a few words, sometimes
throwing dirt in the open grave.
And after that, everyone goes back to the house,
which is suddenly full of visitors.
The widow sits on the couch, very stately,
so people line up to approach her,
sometimes take her hand, sometimes embrace her.
She finds something to say to everbody,
thanks them, thanks them for coming.
In her heart, she wants them to go away.
She wants to be back in the cemetery,
back in the sickroom, the hospital. She knows
it isn't possible. But it's her only hope,
the wish to move backward. And just a little,
not so far as the marriage, the first kiss.
Louise Gluck
A Fantasy
I'll tell you something: every day
people are dying. And that's just the beginning.
Every day, in funeral homes, new widows are born,
new orphans. They sit with their hands folded,
trying to decide about this new life.
Then they're in the cemetery, some of them
for the first time. They're frightened of crying,
sometimes of not crying. Someone leans over,
tells them what to do next, which might mean
saying a few words, sometimes
throwing dirt in the open grave.
And after that, everyone goes back to the house,
which is suddenly full of visitors.
The widow sits on the couch, very stately,
so people line up to approach her,
sometimes take her hand, sometimes embrace her.
She finds something to say to everbody,
thanks them, thanks them for coming.
In her heart, she wants them to go away.
She wants to be back in the cemetery,
back in the sickroom, the hospital. She knows
it isn't possible. But it's her only hope,
the wish to move backward. And just a little,
not so far as the marriage, the first kiss.
Louise Gluck
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Empty shopping bag
Maybe I've been on a streak of bad luck while thrifting recently but the quality of stuff in the second hand stores I usually go to has been shit.
Sure, it's a hunt, a crap shoot and sometimes plain luck. But the past few months there has been absolutely nothing I'm interested in buying. The stores are even more run down, disorganized and a total mess. I'm also seeing a lot of total junk given a ridiculous price tag.
Are the stores putting their better merchandise on ebay, and completely bypassing the store shelves? Or are donations down during tough economic times?
Sure, it's a hunt, a crap shoot and sometimes plain luck. But the past few months there has been absolutely nothing I'm interested in buying. The stores are even more run down, disorganized and a total mess. I'm also seeing a lot of total junk given a ridiculous price tag.
Are the stores putting their better merchandise on ebay, and completely bypassing the store shelves? Or are donations down during tough economic times?
Saturday, January 19, 2013
And good for Bourbon too
I appreciate a good glass with my beverages. Of course, there are times when I'll drink out of anything but when you have a decent drink of something it's pleasing to be drinking it out of a proper glass.
I've had fine wines out of hand blown Riedel crystal glasses and have noted the differences, especially in the aromas. Does a $75 glass make a $100 wine taste better? Not really, but there are flavors and smells that are brighter.
Having a wine glass with a stem is important. Spending money on wine when dining out and getting it in something that resembles a bathroom tumbler is bad form. Sure, I get that a place wants to save money on breakage, but really? I've ranted about this before.
There's a really good newer place downtown called Manifesto Tuscan & Scotch Bar. The food is decent, the ambience interesting and the whisky selection is excellent. I get my whiskies neat, no ice and they serve it in a very appropriate glass called a Glencairn Glass. A few nights ago I ordered a nice Auchentoshan. To open it up a little bit I poured a little bit into it from my water glass. No big deal, I do this all the time. Within seconds there was a manager at table side, with a small water pitcher specifically designed to add water to a whiskey glass I was stunned at the level of detail and service provided. This was done at the Bow Bar in Edinburgh and a few other places in Scotland, but I've never seen it happen here.
Been trying to find one in the city. World Market failed on several occasions, it was ridiculously expensive at Williams/Sonoma. Ok, it was a Riedel and I was not going to spend that much! Finally found one at Crate & Barrel and it passed the test earlier tonight.
It's a good fit in my life, my new whiskey receptacle friend.
I've had fine wines out of hand blown Riedel crystal glasses and have noted the differences, especially in the aromas. Does a $75 glass make a $100 wine taste better? Not really, but there are flavors and smells that are brighter.
Having a wine glass with a stem is important. Spending money on wine when dining out and getting it in something that resembles a bathroom tumbler is bad form. Sure, I get that a place wants to save money on breakage, but really? I've ranted about this before.
There's a really good newer place downtown called Manifesto Tuscan & Scotch Bar. The food is decent, the ambience interesting and the whisky selection is excellent. I get my whiskies neat, no ice and they serve it in a very appropriate glass called a Glencairn Glass. A few nights ago I ordered a nice Auchentoshan. To open it up a little bit I poured a little bit into it from my water glass. No big deal, I do this all the time. Within seconds there was a manager at table side, with a small water pitcher specifically designed to add water to a whiskey glass I was stunned at the level of detail and service provided. This was done at the Bow Bar in Edinburgh and a few other places in Scotland, but I've never seen it happen here.
Been trying to find one in the city. World Market failed on several occasions, it was ridiculously expensive at Williams/Sonoma. Ok, it was a Riedel and I was not going to spend that much! Finally found one at Crate & Barrel and it passed the test earlier tonight.
It's a good fit in my life, my new whiskey receptacle friend.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
But Jesus, what brave losers we are
Early this morning, Jack McCarthy died. I've written about him a few times, most notedly here. It's very sad, but not unexpected. His voice has been silenced, but his words and influence will remain. The subject header of this post is a line from one of Jack's poems. Rest in peace, Jack. And thank you.
Jack was a Haiku Master, winning the championship at IWPS in 2007. Tomorrow night I'll be taking part in a Haiku Death Match for Writers' Block First Draft. It's the Haiku Nuku January event. Starts at 8PM at Kafe Kerouac.
I have very little to say about Lance Armstrong, but can add a couple of pennies about the drama that is surrounding Mantei Te'o. It's very depressing when one goes to such a deep effort of creating a person online whose only purpose seem to be manipulative. A few years ago I was in a situation where Catfishing was created and people close to me were drawn into and manufacturing the craziness. It's not fun and potentially harmful. So if Te'o was sucked in and is a victim, he has my sympathy. However, I do think he was involved in the hoax based on his claims that he met the girl in person. It's a weird situation all around.
Jack was a Haiku Master, winning the championship at IWPS in 2007. Tomorrow night I'll be taking part in a Haiku Death Match for Writers' Block First Draft. It's the Haiku Nuku January event. Starts at 8PM at Kafe Kerouac.
I have very little to say about Lance Armstrong, but can add a couple of pennies about the drama that is surrounding Mantei Te'o. It's very depressing when one goes to such a deep effort of creating a person online whose only purpose seem to be manipulative. A few years ago I was in a situation where Catfishing was created and people close to me were drawn into and manufacturing the craziness. It's not fun and potentially harmful. So if Te'o was sucked in and is a victim, he has my sympathy. However, I do think he was involved in the hoax based on his claims that he met the girl in person. It's a weird situation all around.
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