Nuclear Weapons and the Moral Imagination

On the 75th anniversary of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, we should reflect not only on the destruction of that city, but also on the concurrent realization that the Earth has not yet passed a full century with nuclear-armed humans patrolling it. With all of the other problems occupying our present, the shadow of the mushroom cloud can seem like a black and white relic of the paranoia of another world order. We must continue to acknowledge that nuclear weapons are still a new and dangerous technology with catastrophic implications for our time.

When the United States built its first nuclear weapons, it lacked the moral imagination to respect the suffering they would portend. That is to say, it was contemplating an act that had no moral equivalent in history in terms of its scale. That is also to say, the military and its leaders were not ready to be deterred by what they already understood - that the atomic bombs would be incredibly destructive and lethal. They were after all in the business of killing the people they called their enemies.

The U.S. saw the bombs it was to drop on Hiroshima and Nagasaki as more efficient versions of what had already been done to cities like Tokyo and Dresden. Those kinds of all-out attacks on civilians would later be reckoned by historians as war crimes. At the time, they were considered “necessary” in the logic of total war. Before the U.S. really understand what kind of power it had developed, it had already committed to using all of its power to defeat Germany and Japan.

Did the U.S. military, or President Truman, understand exactly what they were doing when they unleashed Little Boy and Fat Man? They knew they'd be killing thousands of civilians. They ought to have known there would be lasting damage due to radioactive fallout, though it was something that had obviously never been studied before. No one had ever seen a city full of survivors suffer from acute radiation sickness, and later go on to manifest cancer as a direct result. One doubts there could be a full appreciation of the potential for the nuclear trauma to alter Japan's people on a cellular level. The racial prejudice against Asians that prevailed in America, and the blunt categorization of all Japanese as "the enemy", would have diminished any sympathy before the fact.

Only after the atom bombs had been used, did the realization spread that they were capable of so much more than just killing a lot of people. Bombs like these, growing more and more powerful with advances in technology, could render the planet uninhabitable for humans if they were used with the kind of abandon that other bombs were. So non-proliferation became the admonition for nations without nuclear weapons, while the nations that did have them obsessed over testing and building more, for fear that their enemies would build them first.

And that was exactly to be expected, because if humanity's leaders lacked the collective moral imagination to avoid the bloodletting of World War II, and every war that came before it, how could the nations of the world spontaneously and unanimously commit to cooperate on a nuclear policy in the best interests of the planet? Nuclear gamesmanship and the logic of mutually assured destruction were the best our leaders could come up with, and we are amazingly lucky that that policy has "worked" as long as it has.

Robert Oppenheimer, the leader of the Manhattan project, lost his job because he protested that building more powerful weapons, while perhaps diminishing the threat to the security of the United States in the short term, would augment the threat to the safety of the entire world over the long term. It is that kind of morality - to argue for the good of humanity as a whole, rather than the short-term interests of particular populations - that struggled to assert itself in the twentieth century against nationalism and realpolitik. It faces no fewer obstacles today in becoming the dominant mindset among human beings.

There are nine governments in the world that currently have control of a nuclear arsenal. More are interested in gaining one. At this rate it seems incredible that the world would see another seventy five years go by without another deliberate use of these weapons on innocent people - and if it happens, you can be sure the consequences will extend beyond those of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, when the weapons were smaller and no nation had the ability to respond in kind.

With climate change looming large in threats to the survival of the human race, we should remember that the threat of the atom bomb has never left us. We can’t forget the danger that exists from nuclear war to the habitability of the planet - a danger that can only be lessened by preventing the governments that already have them from engaging in wars of any kind, and only eliminated when all governments have permanently renounced their possession. The imperative to make progress on this front is as strong as that to mitigate and reverse the effects of climate change. Both problems ask much of us and our moral imaginations - and we will be sorry if we don't rise to the occasion.

Seventy five years of geopolitical experience tell us that this is not likely to happen soon. But as long as these weapons exist, there will be a temptation to make history with fire and fury. It is known that the United States is currently considering whether to hold its first nuclear weapons tests since 1992. With that in mind, remember what Donald Trump, the current president of the United States and the man with his finger on the button, has said: “why bother having nuclear weapons if you are afraid to use them?”

Above All Else We Must Move

It seems like for the better part of the decade, America has been having a fruitless conversation, on endless repeat, over whether police brutality is a problem and whether black people and other marginalized people suffer disproportionately from it. It became part of our culture wars, an issue that animated two equal yet opposite ideological groups, while the disengaged remained disengaged and waited impatiently for everything to blow over. But whether it's because the pandemic has reminded us that we live in history, or because the repetition of tragedy has finally begun to move the needle, or because the video of George Floyd's death was really just that much more convincing than the other videos we've seen over the years, something very much like a consensus is emerging.

There's something happening - everywhere, it seems. Not just in America, but in countries all over the world. The world has suddenly emerged from its astonished paralysis to confront racial injustice. Some times, it sounds too good to be true, but there is every indication that change is happening and will continue to happen. Optimism flourishes amid the horror show of history.

On June sixth, 2020, I attended a rally and march with my fiancée on the steps of the capitol building in Salem, Oregon. It was ostensibly in honor of George Floyd, who was killed by a policeman after allegedly forging a check. It might also have been for Breonna Taylor, who was killed when her home was invaded by police as she slept. It might have been for Ahmaud Arbery, who was killed by a former policeman who avoided arrest until video of the shooting was released. It might have been for Tamir Rice, or Michael Brown, or Philando Castile, or Freddie Gray, or Sandra Bland, or Eric Garner, or any one else whose death sparked outrage and then went unaddressed in the last ten years. It might have been for every victim of racist violence in all of American history - the dead, the injured, the humiliated. That's a lot to put on the name of George Floyd.

I came to the rally because remaining at home made me physically anxious, like I was ignoring the clearest commands of my conscience. Going made me anxious too, mostly because of concerns that being near large crowds might expose us to the coronavirus. I'd been firm in my belief that limiting the spread of the virus was a moral priority for all Americans. But I considered the people who were being assaulted by police with pepper spray and rubber bullets because they could not abide the thought that once more, nothing would change. I considered that racism was the longer-standing and greater threat to the health of the most vulnerable people in the country. I couldn't let the coronavirus become a fig leaf for a lack of conviction.

I came partly in my capacity as an educator, because I view it as my responsibility to explain to my students how the present moment fits into the context of our ever-expanding history. But I wasn't there to teach - I kept my eyes and ears open, in order to understand more fully how the people were processing their grief for George Floyd, and their desire to see something done about his murder. I wanted to learn about the true character of this movement to which I'd been drawn.

One thing that was evident was that the protest was not ideologically unified or consistent. The organizers were at great pains to emphasize that they were holding a "peaceful" protest, and that they viewed the police officers who were present as potential partners. Leaders of Salem and Marion County police made speeches and expressions of solidarity and a desire to see racist violence come to an end. An impassioned and slightly profane musician (who seemed to need reminding that there were children attending) told any one who called for defunding the police that they were like the religious zealot he used to be. That part was a little confusing.

The crowd listened respectfully, and even clapped, to messages of unity and reform. But they also brought signs that said "no justice, no peace" and "ACAB (all cops are bastards)". And they applauded all the louder when speakers exploded with rage and sorrow, or described the pain and fear that came with being marginalized and targeted by police. There was rage in this gathering, for systemic racism and Donald Trump and for the possibility that anything like what happened to George Floyd might happen again. They had to have known that it would happen again. But there was a hopeful feeling among them that they could stop it with a show of moral force.

Nuance is an underrated value in public discourse. It's one thing to say all cops are bastards, and another to understand what it actually means - that in a system that incentivizes cops to exert violent social control on the downtrodden and despised, they might as well all be bastards. And it's one thing to preach love and nonviolence, and another to understand that to practice nonviolence in the tradition of Dr. King is to pair it with aggressive civil disobedience. I wanted to hear a forceful, nuanced message about why it was necessary to push the system beyond what it was ready to accept, and a defense of those who did the pushing. I wanted it acknowledged that brave people were putting their bodies and freedom on the line, and that they didn't wear badges.

It was easy to suspect that the organizers emphasized a police-inclusive tone because there were so many officers present, and they didn't want any one to inhale lungfuls of tear gas that day. And it was also easy to imagine how profoundly disappointed many of those present would be if the movement at hand did not succeed in abolishing the whole criminal justice system within a year. I was conscious that my opinions as to what should be done were neither moderate, nor as radical as they could possibly be. But for all our differences, the supporters of this movement can be like magnets pointed in the same direction. We'll move further than some people want, and not as for as others, but above all else we must move.

As an educator, it is my responsibility to question my biases, and think critically about why I believe what I do. That's why I acknowledge that I am moved in part by the voices of the moment to view the defunding of police departments, and their replacement with public services to nonviolently address the needs of their communities, as both an achievable and necessary goal. I can't claim to have always been in favor of it, nor to have arrived at this position solely through dispassionate analysis. But I do believe that the basic idea, whether it is achieved gradually or all at once, stands up to reason. And if the movement is not completely unified on matters of ideology or policy, the unity of its pain demands the kind of radical change that cannot be written off as lip service.

What impressed me the most about the gathering on June sixth was the courage. We came together despite the fear of coronavirus, despite the fear of having brutality visited on ourselves, and despite the fear that we might achieve less than we dreamed. A group of indigenous dancers performed just before the march was to begin - and the start of their performance was marked by wind, rain, and hail. But they drummed, and they danced, and we stood. Against social evil and physical danger, the people who gathered showed courage which the world is bound to respect.

Black Lives Matter is a movement that must succeed, and must be bold in doing so. For all that has been lost to police brutality and white supremacy, there is so much more yet to be lost if society does not achieve a complete transformation. As always, we have everything to gain from laying the foundations for real justice to build upon. The consensus for change is forming, and that is an opportunity we cannot waste.

Another Thinkpiece About A Celebrity Couple's Kid's Name

I have thoughts about the name of the Musk/Grimes child. Should he read this one day, I’d like to apologize ahead of time, because the only people who should feel bad about his (apparent) given name are his parents.

Maybe this makes me some species of curmudgeon, but I’m really over the use of creative orthography in the naming of children.

A human’s name is not the title of a conceptual artwork. It’s a gift from a parent to a new person, and as such it belongs to the person who bears it, not the parent. Treating the process of naming a person like performance art is, frankly, an abuse of a highly personal trust.

When I was a kid, I was extremely adamant that my name was David and I was to be called that, because I was often bullied and made fun of, and I didn’t trust people with “Dave” or especially “Davey”. Looking back, I feel I was overly stubborn at times, but all the same it was my name and I was within my rights. To this day, I insist that most people call me David.

When I got a little order I loosened up a bit, and I used “Dav” a lot in writing, especially online (pronounced like Dave). But that was my choice, and it was also something I wasn’t nearly as comfortable hearing out loud. Only a handful of people call me Dave now, who met me online as Dav, and I tolerate it because I did after all introduce myself that way.

My uncle often greets me with a Spanish “David”, but that’s cool because we get along really well and he’s Puerto Rican, so it comes naturally. My dad does it occasionally too, because he’s a dork like that. But I’ve never questioned in my whole life that my family took my name seriously when they gave it to me, and have respected my right to have it the way I wanted.

Names mean a lot to people, and it is disrespectful to trifle with them. I have a student whom I met four years ago with one name, and then within a few months reintroduced himself with a new one, because he was transitioning to a new gender. Within a year he was on to a new name/nickname combination, and so far it’s stuck. Making sure his name and pronouns were respected was one of our main priorities in helping his whole class through the transition.

Most people don’t have to go through a process like that, but those who do can surely appreciate that a person’s name belongs to that person alone. And even if a person makes the decision to put their birth name aside and take on a new one of their own choosing, it would be considerate of their parents not to start them off in life with a name that reflects nothing but their own vanity.

I would never go so far as to say all spelling variants, or unusual names, or even faux-unusual fad names are illegitimate, because that’s nonsense. What’s important is the parents’ motivation in giving a name, and I for one think it’s transparent that “X Æ A-12“ is a name that exists to turn the birth of a child into a spectacle and promote the Musk/Grimes brand.

People speculate on what the Musk/Grimes child is going to actually be called by his parents when they put their twitter accounts down and use spoken language, but what about the matter of what this kid is going to call himself, in his own mind? Naming a child after the mere concept of a mathematical variable, a multilingual orthographic pun, and a goddamn military spyplane, all at the same time, does not communicate that the name was given with any thoughtfulness. It’s trifling masquerading as significance.

And it would still be a thousand times better if they had just spelled it as X Ash Archangel, instead of insisting on turning the act of reading the name into a rebus, or a cryptic crossword puzzle. But no - they preferred to give their kid the precious gift of one day being able to google himself and learn that the occasion of his birth was met with a chorus of utter confusion over what a weird fucking name he was given.

Name your kids whatever you want; but is it too much to ask parents to consider what is it about names that actually gives them meaning, and even “uniqueness”? Or at the very least, to not treat the naming of a child like an album drop or an IPO?

For a Troubled Political Conscience

At this point, I think that Tara Reade’s accusation against Joe Biden is at least as likely to be true as not. I don’t have the means at my disposal to say definitively what happened, and I don’t think it’s on me to give an account of what “really” took place. Reade has given an account. We know Biden has a history of inappropriate touching, and we know that powerful men do these sorts of things with regularity. Without a thorough investigation, there’s already a high degree of plausibility.

And the thing that I’ve been really struggling with is, what to do about this information, since it is still overwhelmingly likely he will be Donald Trump’s only credible opponent in November. And Trump must go.

Does it matter that Trump has been credibly accused of worse and more? Does it matter that so has Bill Clinton? And does it matter that Trump is still the one who bragged about grabbing women, laughed it off as “locker room talk”, and has intimated more than once that it’s a real shame he can’t have his way with his own daughter? None of these things have any real bearing on holding Biden accountable for his actions. But this is a lot bigger than Biden.

Four more years of Donald Trump means more hard-right conservatives on the Supreme Court. It means the continuing dismantlement of whatever social welfare apparatuses this country has managed to cobble together. It means the pandemic will continue to be mishandled and so will every unknown crisis that may occur in that time. And it means more arbitrary attacks not only on the environment here, but the global climate.

It’s also entirely possible that Trump will consolidate power in such a way that he can put an end to any meaningful role for any organization in national politics, apart from the Republican party and the Trump Organization.

Those are all terrible outcomes that must be avoided. and there are two ways that can be accomplished: either we elect the Democratic nominee in November, or we dismantle the present constitutional order and put an end to the American presidency.

Yes, yes, the second one, I hear you chanting. Well you aren’t going to make it happen in the next four years without a civil war. This is not a thought experiment, it is a fact. There will be a president next year and it could be Trump. He will come down as hard on an insurrection as any dictator ever has. The power of the state will not be diminished because we have become disillusioned with the character of the men who wield it. And Trump will put the power of the state to work doing terrible, terrible things. We know this because he’s been doing it.

The United States, of course, has been doing terrible things with its power for centuries. But that does not mean that we, who are given some small power to direct the course of future events by electing our leadership, have no obligation to push against an outcome for the country and the world that is measurably and demonstrably worse.

Joe Biden may have committed a crime, and that would be a reason to oppose him. But there are much bigger issues than Biden’s sexual misconduct to consider when determining the ethics of this situation. If we only look at environmental issues, it is not a stretch to say that X number of people will die for every day that Trump continues to make climate policy. AND he’s a rapist.

Imagine these scenarios:

• Biden wins, and you have to live with having voted for some one who is guilty of sexual assault, but who has mitigated the climate disaster to some degree.
• Trump wins and continues to make the climate crisis worse solely to “own the libs”, while being definitely guilty of sexual assault on a wide scale, but you didn’t vote.

I can live with one of these scenarios. I’m not satisfied with it. But ethically speaking, there is a clear choice to be made.

A Collection of Vinyl Records, Ranked by Arbitrary and Inconsistent Criteria

With all this free time, why not lend my opinions on things? Gentle reader, I offer you a respite from news that matters, and invite you to peruse my record collection.

This is not a review of the albums as abstract works of art - this would require a much more thoughtful and coherent approach than I'm willing to employ. No, this is a a review of the seventy nine actual objects that currently sit, alphabetically by artist, on the shelf in my living room. The criteria are arbitrary and inconsistent, because I made them up as I went along and made no effort to apply them with consistency or rigor. Roughly speaking, they are being evaluated by how much I enjoy having them there, on this day, the ninth day of April in the year 2020.

For the record, I like all of these albums. Some I like in different ways and many I like more than others, but each one has its charms and I'd encourage every one to give each one a listen, if they were so inclined. Except maybe #78 - that's kind of a special case.

There's no stakes here, except the temporary relief of boredom and the appreciation of a motley collection of new-ish and older vinyl. Nevertheless, I revise the list repeatedly throughout the process, and probably would do so even more if I didn't know when to quit. Let's get into it, shall we?

#79. The Long Run - Eagles

This album was a generous gift from a former student of mine, who found it in an old barn, badly warped from poor storage conditions. It was basically unplayable when I first got it, but it seems to have corrected itself somewhat after being stored properly on the shelf, pressed between its new neighbors. It played all the way through on a recent listen, but the needle wobbled so much near the outer edges that it gave me an anxiety.

#78. Songs Of Western Birds - Donald J. Borror

I bought this disc for two reasons: the novelty of owning a collection of recorded bird calls, and the hope that it would give my two pet lovebirds something to squawk at. Regrettably, they remain mostly unimpressed.

#77. Hotel California - Eagles

This one has exactly the same story as #79, but the songs are better. Arguably, so is the album art.

#76. The Best Of Nat King Cole - Nat King Cole

Some of the songs are really nice, but the disc came without a protective inner sleeve and it's pretty scratched up. It'll play all the way through though, and it's a nice diversion on a lazy morning. But one wonders if a performer with Cole's reputation is really defined by this collection as his "best".

#75. Windy - Astrud Gilberto

 Some of these songs hint at the kind of cool Gilberto embodies on better songs like "The Girl From Ipanema" or "Take It Easy My Brother Charlie". But on this disc, it's mostly covers of songs by The Association, who were... alright. We'll say it drops a few points more for the wrong-kind-of-cuteness of "The Bare Necessities", but makes them back up with a beautifully colorful cover art.

#74. Hello, Dolly! - Louis Armstrong

Well, Louis is clearly having fun (when is he not?) and this was a gift from my fiancée. But it's not exactly a heavyweight effort. I put it on sometimes for that relentlessly jolly "Hello, Dolly!" vibe, though. 

#73. Welcome Sweet Pleasure - The Festival Players

Brought to us by the merry theater kids and renaissance nerds at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, a nice jaunt through some folky tunes of the English Golden Age.  It appeals to the part of me that likes unconventional stuff, and makes me yearn to visit England (or Ashland) again some day.

#72. The Opulent Era - Various Orchestras

It's a Big Box from Time Life Records, with four discs inside, filled with works by such opulent composers as Wagner, Brahms, Offenbach, Tchaikovsky, Strauss, Saint-Saëns, and Bruckner. The paper sleeves inside are nearly torn to shreds, but the discs themselves are in good form, and the box also includes a helpful listening guide and a historical booklet with pictures. And all of that is really, unironically awesome, but I seldom have the energy to spin eight sides of classical music. That is a demand on my resources.

#71. Dionne Warwick in the Valley of the Dolls - Dionne Warwick

I have great affection for 60s pop for grown-ups, especially of the Bacharach persuasion.This disc came from an antique store in Washington, and like #76 it lacks a protective inner sleeve. But it's in much better condition, and the tunes are hard to resist. I've never been there, but now I'm forever wondering how I can get to San Jose...

#70. Best Of, Volume 1 - The Beach Boys

This record has a lot of really fun energy, which is what the Beach Boys really excelled at in the years when they were still growing into artistic maturity. And it's another gift from my fiancée, so it's got plenty of sentiment wrapped up in it.

#69. STN MTN/Kauai - Childish Gambino

The STN MTN disc is a little weaker, and some of the songs are repetitive in a way that doesn't make me want to dance. But the Kauai disc is as thoughtful and interesting as it's fun. Jaden Smith makes me smile too.

#68. Killing Me Softly - Roberta Flack

It's really chill and pleasant, and the title track is an all-time classic, and the front cover does a cool thing like a grand piano opening. There are other songs too, and they all sound nice, like a warm hug.

#67. John Williams: The Star Wars Trilogy - Utah Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Varujan Kajian

It doesn't give that precise frisson that the original soundtrack versions would have, but the selections are choice and the vinyl is light saber red. I was hoping for green though.

#66. The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt Soundtrack

A surprise gift from a friend - I've never played the game, but I had a lot of fun listening to the album. It sets a mood which I imagine is perfect for stalking werewolves through the pines. Maybe like a better version of Castlevania: Lords of Shadow? Four discs is, again, kind of long. But I've spun them twice, and I'll probably spin them again on Halloween this year.

#65. Brahms Symphony No. 1 in C Minor, Opus 68 - Philharmonia Orchestra, conducted by Herbert Von Karajan

A lovely symphony, perfect for a Saturday afternoon with tea and a book. Also, I'm intrigued by the slight coarseness of the album cover. A real sensory experience.

#64. The Copland Album - New York Philharmonic, conducted by Leonard Bernstein

 I dig the western aesthetic and I've never been let down by a Bernstein performance, but I feel like I'm still getting to know this one. Needs more listens.

#63. The Cole Porter Songbook - Charlie Parker

Kind of a strange collection, this one. Side one is an assortment of arrangements, with big bands, small groups, and even a vocal group backing the Bird on his flights of fancy. Side two, however, is all small group stuff. I like side two a lot better, but in the end it's all Bird.

#62. Spirit Phone - Lemon Demon

This is another record that's good for playing on Halloween, but before it gets dark. It's the silly kind of spooky, and it strongly appeals to a sense of humor that grew up on the internet in the early twenty first century. The riff on the "Thriller" video disclaimer is also good for a chuckle.

#61. I Was The One - Elvis Presley

This came out of the same abandoned barn as those Eagles records, but somehow no worse for the experience. I'm pretty sure it's a European import, which is neat. It's also the best example of the early Presley's sheer dynamism on record that I've got in my collection, across all media. I could have done without the unfortunate "Baby Let's Play House" though.

#60. Cathy's Clown - The Everly Brothers

Another European import, with an oddly flimsy cover that is rather unmemorable in appearance. But the songs sound bright and corny, just like they're supposed to. Sometimes, you've just got to do your crying in the rain.

#59. Tom Lehrer Revisited - Tom Lehrer

I have The Remains Of Tom Lehrer box set on my hard drive, so maybe I didn't "need" this. But I got excited when I saw an original Lehrer album in the wild, and this version has performances from his Australian tour, so I got to hear some new-to-me stage banter. Plus, owning this album probably communicates my level of urbane sophistication more accurately than any other.

#58. Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Once More With Feeling - Original TV Cast

The colors of the cover art caught my eye even before I realized this was the Buffy musical, and nostalgia carried me the rest of the way. Some of the vocal performances are less than compelling without the visual element of television, but at least it's an official release, so it sounds way better than the $1 bootleg CD I got at a thrift store once. All in all, a fine conversation starter for nerds.

#57. Murder Ballads - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

I like this album a lot, but I also feel like it's haunted and that just listening to some of these songs will lead to my absorbing their sins. Needless to say, this is one I usually do play on Halloween. Despite its grisly aura, it reminds me personally of a dear friendship, and it fascinates me endlessly because it is the only album I have ever seen that has only three (3) sides of music. I even showed it to my dad, and he'd never seen anything like it either. Fucking weird.

#56. Songs in the Key Of Life - Stevie Wonder

In a better world, this album would be way higher on the list. But the grooves are pretty worn, seemingly past their sonic prime. It's also lacking the bonus EP, and that's a big deal, because it's got me missing Saturn and Ebony Eyes. The state of the cover reflects this record's history, but it's still a funky thing of beauty This is one of those special albums that creates a world when you listen to it.

#55. Speaking In Tongues - Talking Heads

This album should be higher up as well, and it's an even bigger tragedy that it's not. I bought this one new, and was utterly unprepared to find that track one on side one skipped so badly as to cut over a minute out of the song's playing time. Gutting as classic a starter as "Burning Down The House" puts an unfortunate pall over the rest of what is a very fine record.

#54. Get Happy!! - Elvis Costello and the Attractions

This album also has a skipping problem on track one, and "Love For Tender" is basically lost to us. But at least this one has the excuse of being a used record, and the rest of the songs don't suffer quite as much for it.

#53. To Love Somebody - Nina Simone

Nina makes nice work of the Beegees, as well as an inimitable rendering of "Suzanne" and a more politically satisfying rewrite of the Beatles' "Revolution". I just hope she gave an earful to whoever it was that forgot to put the actual album version of that track on the album, instead of just the two halves of the single edit. It's a serious flow killer.

#52. Muddy and the Wolf - Muddy Waters and Howling Wolf

Another gift from my fiancée, with a great title and an unfortunate unfulfilled promise. I want Muddy and the Wolf on the same songs, dammit!

#51. Mingus Dynasty - Charles Mingus

This is a really cool sounding album, and Mingus himself looks appropriately grand and imperial on the cover. It all looks and sounds like the most interesting parts of the 1960s, with the bass solos and flutes. This was also a gift from a friend, a colleague of mine, and it reminds me of the joys of creativity.

#50. Greatest Hits - Martha and the Vandellas

You could never capture the energy of Motown in a single act, but you could come close if you put "Dancing in the Street", "Heatwave", and "Nowhere to Run" on the same disc. If they were all on the same side, you would have a side of unfathomable power, but the other side would be the poorer for it. Fortunately, this collection doesn't make that mistake.

#49. Marry Me - St. Vincent

I really like her style. The songs have a kind of theatricality to them, like the soundtrack of an avant-gardish drama with fancy costumes. However, I knocked this one down several points because whenever I put it on, I always misunderstand the label and play side two before side one. Every. Single. Time. Consequently, I bear this album a highly personal (but ultimately mild) grudge.

#48. Why? - They Might Be Giants

A souvenir from a TMBG concert, one of the most amazing shows I've ever been to. The songs are for kids because it's one of their children's records, but you don't become a fan of TMBG if you've lost your sense of whimsy.

#47. Party! - The Beach Boys

My fiancée likes this one a lot, and it's always fun to chill with the Boys and their make-believe party. The ambience may be less than authentic, but the illusion is unbroken and the song choices are cute.

#46. Before the Flood - Bob Dylan and the Band

You've got Dylan, you've got the Band, and you've got two discs of compelling live music. But undeniable as the musicianship and songcraft is, it excites my passion less than my admiration. I figure I should have a Dylan album in my collection, and a Band album, and it's really very convenient that they went ahead and made one together.

#45. Tumbleweed Connection - Elton John

There's something kind of weird about an Elton John album without any color on the cover, but the songs themselves are not lacking in it. This is a good album for appreciating the sheer songwriting prowess of the partnership of John and Bernie Taupin, without getting distracted by their endless string of well-known hits.

#44. Broken English - Marianne Faithful

I wish the disc itself wasn't so scratched when I bought it, because side one goes "thump" every revolution for about three songs. But when you consider the life and times of the artist, it makes the kind of sense you can't begrudge. Broken English is both artistic and profane, and the cover gives a weird kind of recovering-from-cocaine vibe that I can't properly describe, having never been in recovery from cocaine. So really, the thump kind of belongs here.

#43. Melodrama - Lorde

I bought this as a gift for my fiancée,and as much as I like the music I'm also really impressed by the art direction of the cover and liner notes. Together, they perfectly describe the sound and feeling of being young and pretending to be glamorous while you wait for an asteroid to crash into the Earth. At least I think that's what she's going for.

#42. If You Knew Suzi - Suzi Quatro

Suzi Quatro needs to rock, and this record doesn't always present her in her ideal ecosystem. It's all a little too seventies mainstream with the cover photo and the big single. But when she rocks, she rocks. I wish her records were easier to find, and (resignedly) I figured this would be the one I ended up finding first, but even if she's a little toned down here, she's still got a marvelous sincerity.

#41. Dreamboat Annie - Heart

This is basically the platonic ideal of the classic rock album - the cover gently worn with the passage of time, the monster radio hits alongside the prettier, artier tracks, the grooves still lively after sitting for god knows how long in a bin at a used record store. Playing it is like traveling back in time to before my birth, when people still believed in rock n' roll, of all things.

#40. P'ansori/Korea's Epic Vocal Art + Instrumental Music - Kim So-hee, with Kim Yoon-duk, Chi Young-hee, and Sung Keum-yun

Esoteric, yes. Pretentious, very probably. But playing this record reminds me of the time I lived in Korea for nine months, and I like being a little pretentious sometimes. It can, believe it or not, be a lot of fun to listen to traditional music that sounds nothing like what you're accustomed to. I don't speak Korean, but I still enjoy the storytelling.

#39. Free As The Wind - The Crusaders

This record pulses with the spirit of fun. I like to play it when company is over, and I like to play it just to dance like a dork with my fiancée. I do that with a lot of albums, but this one is very much for that.

#38. Between The Buttons - The Rolling Stones

This one worked its way into my collection out of a friend's, and it has his name scrawled on a corner of the cover. I like that sort of thing in an album, and I also really like "Let's Spend the Night Together".

#37. Fleetwood Mac - Fleetwood Mac

This one came from my mom's collection, which is part of its charm and also beside the point.Some records are haunted, but this one is enchanted, and I'm pretty sure it's mostly because of Stevie Nicks.

#36. Midnight Marauders - A Tribe Called Quest

I went searching specifically to find People's Instinctive Travels on vinyl, but discovered Midnight Marauders along the way. I love this laid back, jazzy style of hip hop, and I like this album's cover art more than I like most hip hop covers

#35. Johto Legends: Music From Pokemon Gold and Silver - Arranged by Braxton Burks

This was a gift from a friend, and playing it hits me right in the part of my brain that remembers feeling like the world inside an 8 MB cartridge was unimaginably huge. Turning old midi arrangements into orchestral ones is kind of gimmicky, but it turns out I am exactly the audience for that sort of gimmick (I have other such albums in different media) and you can't really complain when it's done so well. The bright and shiny colors of the cover design also tickle the pleasure center of my brain.
.
#34. Bush Lady - Alanis Obomsawin

My fiancée chanced on this record, and we found it was incredibly moving as both a historical document and an artistic work. The liner notes are very informative about the status of indigenous people in Canada, and the use of multiple languages in the music is effective.

#33. Porgy and Bess - Ray Charles and Cleo Laine

Perhaps not the definitive recording of Gershwin's opera, or even one of the recordings with its own wikipedia page. But it's got Ray Charles on it, and it's good. Despite the rundown state of the box when I found it in a used record store, it plays beautifully, suggesting perhaps it got passed around more than it got listened to. The liner notes are also fascinating.

#32. Ahmad Jamal Volume IV - Ahmad Jamal Trio

There's something magical about being in a jazz club, when people are there for the sounds and less concerned with the booze and smoke. When I play this record, I can feel a strong club kind of vibe coming off of Jamal's band (and not just because it was actually recorded in a club). The album cover is starting to come apart, but that's alright because this is a time capsule from a bygone age, and I've still got a little piece of it. Anyway, they don't let you smoke in clubs any more, and that's all for the best.

#31. Live At The Hollywood Bowl - The Beatles

Already possessing their complete set of studio albums on CD, I saw the release of this disc as the perfect way to add the Beatles into my vinyl collection. A row of LPs without a Beatles album is just missing a certain Beatley crunch, you know? The lads do their rock n' roll thing, the crowd noise is engineered down so you can hear them do it, and the liner notes promote that documentary Ron Howard made a few years ago. It's no Sgt. Pepper or anything, but it is exciting.

#30. Quadrophenia - The Who

More than most of my used records, this one looks and sounds like it got in a fight. The more-than-typical pops and hisses detract slightly from the Who's music, but it is the Who after all, and the sheer grandeur of "Love Reign O'er Me" is not something that necessarily declines just because it's rough around the edges. This was another gift from my fiancée, and boy did she pick well.

#29. Songs From The Attic - Billy Joel

Most of what I consider Billy Joel's finest songs are on this album, and I've concluded that he is much better live any way. The piano playing man has a gift for inhabiting his crowd. The title and cover design give off an eerie feeling that this album was never actually new, and just spontaneously appeared pre-owned in used record stores all over the world. I'm not going to follow up on that hypothesis though, because it's probably wrong and I don't want to know that.

#28. A Christmas Together - John Denver and the Muppets

Awash in nostalgia for Christmas, and Muppets, and seventies singer-songwriters, we all know exactly why this record is here. We cuddle up under the mistletoe with this one every year in our house. Unfortunately, we're not zoned for a fireplace.

#27. Season Of Glass - Yoko Ono

It's unfortunate that a couple of tracks skip in spots, because this is a beautiful, if dark, piece of work, and you hate to have it interrupted. Good albums can give you a sense of what the artist was really feeling when they made it, but even if you didn't know that Ono recorded this just after the death of her husband, you would know instantly that she really had endured a great loss. The stained glasses (not stained glass) on the cover are the least of it.

#26. Jamie - Brittany Howard

This was a Christmas gift for my fiancée. The music is beautiful, and so is everything that comes with it - the cover portrait, the cream colored vinyl, the childhood photographs on the back of the liner notes. Everything about this album feels openly personal. It combines grace with rhythm in ideal proportion for delivering truth and making the people feel it.

#25. Hypnotic Eye - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Before his death, I often called Tom Petty America's single greatest rock n' roller. I don't think I was wrong and I don't think anything has changed since then. I bought this album last year because I hadn't heard it before. It's not necessarily his magnum opus, but I'm just really excited all the time to have him around.

#24. Eponymous - R.E.M.

Owning Eponymous on CD, or in intangible digital format, would not really make sense for me. But as a chance find at a record store? That's what albums like this are for. Hearing the original single version of "Radio Free Europe" blast out of my set up is a treat, to say nothing of the other rare tracks. A package like this is the reason I bother with analog media.

#23. Joan Baez, Volume 2 - Joan Baez

It's a simple record - folk songs, sung by a woman accompanying herself on a guitar. And it turned out to be a lot better than I expected. There's a quality to Baez's voice that makes me wish I'd appreciated her work earlier. Also, the cover has an message written on it, from a girl named Susie who (apparently) really liked "The Banks of the Ohio". I'm such a sucker for things like that.

#22. Greatest Hits - Linda Ronstadt

Another fine acquisition from my mom's collection.  They're all hits, they're all classics, and they're all driven by a great rock voice. It's not complicated, but in my opinion it's essential.

#21. Jesus Christ Superstar - Original Album Cast

In my mind, there's a recorded version of Jesus Christ Superstar that exists in a state of perfection. But while there's never been a better version of "Heaven On Their Minds" than the one from the movie, but for the most part I prefer this album. The exterior presentation is suitably biblical, and the libretto (fancy word for liner notes) is suitably rock-operatic. Another choice selection from my mom.

#20. Egypt Station - Paul McCartney

I'm not sure where Paul McCartney got the idea that, well into his 70s, he had to keep proving that he is a great artist, who can write, sing, rock, and generally produce at a level beyond all expectations. Maybe he's just that great and this is just what the great ones do. He even painted the cover himself, and it looks really cool. Also, we should listen to what he has to say on "Despite Repeated Warnings".

#19. Portrait in Jazz - Bill Evans Trio

Sometimes I fantasize about living in a cleanly lit modernist home with 1960s-style furnishings, wearing fuzzy slippers all day while drinking tea and and reading great literature. In this fantasy, Bill Evans and his trio are there, playing selections from Portrait In Jazz, or whatever they want to play, I don't presume to tell them what to do. If #32 is an ideal jazz night out, this record is an ideal jazz night in.

#18. Arthur Buck - Joseph Arthur and Peter Buck

I don't even think you can get this on CD. If you couldn't stream it digitally either, would that be better? I love the red/blue vinyl and all those other hipsterish touches.  And I also love the music, which I sought out of R.E.M. fandom, and then came to appreciate Joseph Arthur in his own right as a lyricist.

#17. Bridge Over Troubled Water - Simon and Garfunkel

There's the title track, which is lovely, of course.  We all know that. But there's something in the way this album ends side one with "So Long Frank Lloyd Wright" and (almost) ends side two with a live version of "Bye Bye Love" that tells me why it's a great album. And it's a great last album too, even if it's not actually the last thing they ever made together.

#16. West Side Story Original Movie Soundtrack

There's a good case to be made that West Side Story is America's greatest musical, and the movie is an artistic triumph. The soundtrack is obviously an indispensable part of that, melding a naturalistic look at urban turmoil with the sophisticated artifice of ballet, and finding a sincere romanticism in the depths of tragedy. It's both hip and wise, which is the best definition of a classic.

#15. Wise Up Ghost - Elvis Costello and the Roots

I only just realized that this is presently the only Blue Note record that I have on vinyl. Neither Costello nor the Roots are artists for that label, but the music they made for this album sounds modern and jazzy enough to aspire to that level of cool. Interesting fact: my old turntable can't play this album correctly, because the base makes the needle jump all over the place. I had to put a little cat figurine on there to weigh it down.

#14. Collapse Into Now - R.E.M.

As per #17, I am fascinated by final albums. I never heard this one until a few years after R.E.M. had broken up, so it's hard to hear past the context of finality. But history aside, what's not to love on an album with such a mastery of song structure? And I love everything about this disc - except that weird staticky noise that plays under the first half of track one.

#13. Seven Year Ache - Roseanne Cash

Something about the title track gave me a small musical epiphany when I rediscovered it about eight years ago. When I started collecting vinyl, I knew I needed this album to join the shelf as quickly as possible, and I'm glad I didn't have to wait long. The songs are mostly country ballads with a bit of rockin', but that's mostly what that little epiphany was about.

#12. On The Line - Jenny Lewis

On my most recent listen of this record, I was highly distressed to find that the needle was sticking near the end of "Taffy". It took me out of the moment, and that may be why On The Line didn't make the top ten. It is an otherwise excellent record, from an artist I've long admired to the point of adoration. The sum of the listening experience is liberating and rewarding, as she probes inner demons and transcends them through the joy of embracing her inner clown. And the cover art doesn't lack for appeal either.


#11. Live in London - Leonard Cohen

I appreciate a live album that doubles as a greatest hits catalog, because the songs always sound more cohesive than they would if you just copied and pasted from the albums of origin. Cohen's all about cohesion here, announcing the name of every soloist after every solo they play, making sure none of us ever forget that it's the sublime Webb sisters singing backup on every song. There are three discs to listen to (which is a lot), but it's three discs of songs by Leonard Cohen, performed by a backing band with a warm, lush sound, and punctuated by the horny old bastard's dumb jokes.

#10. To Pimp A Butterfly - Kendrick Lamar

This is an album that's almost synaesthetically visual, a documentary unto itself that remains engrossing across two discs, even when the music gives way to interludes of spoken word, or exhortation. To Pimp A Butterfly rewards close attention and casual listening equally, but I don't think most listeners will be satisfied with just the latter. It's a classic on multiple levels, which raises it to the level of a masterpiece.

#9. The Great Pretenders - Mini Mansions

I would love this album anyway for its inventive melodies and lyrics - it's incredibly fun to play. And I'd also dig the homage to the Voyager Golden Record on the cover, no matter who used it. But in honestly, the thing that makes this record rank so highly is that it was brought to my attention by a good friend, who I wish I saw more of these days. Guest vocals by Brian Wilson and Alex Turner make for a pair of supremely cool tracks at the end of side one.

#8. New York Tendaberry - Laura Nyro

The cover is a mysterious black and white photo of the author, and I have no idea what a "Tendaberry" is. The music is mostly otherworldly singing accompanied by piano, crossing from whispers to wholehearted wails. This is a perfect example of a diamond in the record store rough - a singular masterpiece by an artist who left a rich legacy of song and never got half the credit she deserved for it. Listen to "Gibsom Street" and you'll know.

#7. The Execution Of All Things - Rilo Kiley

A twenty first century classic for the present moment, really - these days we're all a little upset about the disappearing ground. This album is a trusty companion for getting through darkness and the everyday absurdities of everything. I'll let other listeners find the applicability for themselves.

#6. Don't Shoot Me, I'm Only The Piano Player - Elton John

Every time I listen to this album - which is very often - I am stunned by how incredibly tuneful it is. I'm delighted by the full-sized booklet of lyrics and photographs. I'm blown away by the diversity of subjects and themes. I'm puzzled as to whether that bit of distortion on the high note in "Have Mercy On the Criminal" is supposed to be there or not. That's the kind of overthinking that comes from listening very closely, because you just can't not.

#5. Such Sweet Thunder - Duke Ellington and his Orchestra

A suite of Shakespeare-inspired compositions, from the pen of Duke Ellington, is simultaneously a highbrow expression of the art of music, and and a goofy expression of childlike whimsy. That might be a definition of "sublime". This is one of the records I've owned the longest, and I don't think I'll ever get tired of it. I'll definitely never get tired of the way that my lovebirds always mimic the whistling high notes at the end of "Madness in Great Ones".

#4. Look Now - Elvis Costello and the Impostors

 It should be clear by now who I regard as the superior Elvis - the English eclecticist with the passion for extreme wordplay and hurling his nasally vocals into every song with abandon. The young Elvis Costello was precocious and dangerous. But he was also scary in his sophistication, and the years and side projects and genre experiments have only served to reveal that in its glory. A year and a half later, I'm still very high on this record.

#3. Pet Sounds - The Beach Boys

Friends and acquaintances will know that my history with this album goes deep, and there's no real reason to extol its virtues here. Suffice to say it just misses the top spot, because my emotional attachment hews much more strongly to the Pet Sounds Sessions CD Box Set. It's just got more Pet Sounds in it.

#2. Reckoning - R.E.M.

Reckoning is a great album. It's not my favorite R.E.M. album. But this particular Reckoning is the most expensive LP I have ever bought, because it is an original pressing with a cover autographed by all the band members. This fact automatically granted it about a thousand extra arbitrary-and-inconsistent points. However, because I have it displayed proudly in a frame on my wall, and removing it from the frame is slightly inconvenient, and I feel vaguely uncomfortable actually taking a needle to a record with such a pedigree, I've only ever played it once. And an album that you can't listen to can't really be number one, can it?

#1. Between The Lines - Janis Ian

Conversely, this album is among the cheapest I've ever bought, and also among the most beautiful programs of music I have ever heard. I don't have a single record with superior sound - not in the sense that matters, any way. There is such a profound intelligence, sensitivity, and poetry to these songs, that they often feel more like ancient melodies rediscovered from the ether, than contrived inventions for something as momentary as a 70s pop record. Maybe it only looks that way from where I'm standing, but this is where I stand. Janis Ian ought to be better remembered, for this and for her other work.

Where I've Been

Actually, I've been right here all along. But I've been very quiet, thinking of things to say and finding very little.

Perhaps the biggest change since I ladt posted on this blog is that I finished my prescription of Sertraline; I successfully tapered off at the start of January. A couple of weeks later I crashed my car in a ditch, but since I suffered no bodily injuries, quitting an antidepressant feels bigger. Maybe that's a good sign?

What else have I been up to? I bought a new car, a hybrid for all those long commutes. I turned thirty, and enjoyed it properly with the help of my lovely girlfriend, Ariele. I kept my head up and only made a few jokes about becoming hopelessly decrepit. My lovebird Bonnie laid a clutch of eggs, but since her mate Sherbert is also a female there was no chance of them hatching.

I continued my life's work of educating America's youth against their will, one compulsory class period at a time. This is harder than it looks, especially when you're no longer relying on the comfort of generic Zoloft to keep yourself even. To be blunt, I had a few really bad days over the last few months. If my latest absence requires an excuse, then recurring depressive spots seem as good as any.

But that aside, I can honestly say that my extra-curriculars haven't suffered too much. Sure, I'd like to be reading more. But I'm also doing something - successfully - that I haven't really attempted in a long time. I'm writing a book, a small volume of poetry. Thus far it has no name, but I've been refering to ot as The Manuscript.

I know I've made grand declarations of intent before, but despute my absence here the fact remains that the poems are being written. They remain to be edited and properly arranged, and once that is done I'll have to figure out how, exactly, one converts a Word document into a book. But I expect that by mid-summer I'll be ready to do just that.

That's it as far as news. I mainly wrote this to get myself back into gear for using this blog again. Like a comfy old jacket, I may take it off for a few months, but I never really put it away for good.

An Open Letter To My Congressional Representatives

I have just submitted the following letter to my Congressional representatives through their webpages. I suggest you contact your own representatives with similar messages.

_______________

Dear Senator Wyden/ Senator Merkley/ Congressman Schrader,

Like many Oregonians, I was deeply dismayed upon learning that Donald Trump had won the Presidency last week. This feeling only deepened when I realized that he would win despite having failed to achieve even a plurality of the national popular vote. Because he has won the electoral vote, the fact that Hillary Clinton received more votes than any candidate in history (apart from Barack Obama) is irrelevant.

I am a high school and middle school social studies teacher, and it was my responsibility to explain to my students the following day why Donald Trump would become our next President, despite having received fewer votes than Hillary Clinton. Many of my students come from families with immigrant members, or are members of the LGBT community, and so have good reason to be fearful of the next four years, and frustrated that our democratic institutions had seemingly failed to prevent this outcome.

For their sake, and the sake of every vulnerable and marginalized person in this country, I am counting on you and other Democratic members of Congress to stand up for human rights during Trump's administration. I am hopeful that Republican members of Congress will also step forward on behalf of those who may suffer devastating setbacks in the next four years.

In practical terms, there is not much that anybody can do to prevent Donald Trump from becoming President next year. However, recently Senator Barbara Boxer introduced legislation which would amend the Constitution to abolish the Electoral College and elect the President by popular vote. I ask that you support this bill and, should it fail to pass during this session of Congress, that you support or sponsor similar bills in the future.

The Electoral College is an antiquated system, designed deliberately to provide a counter against the popular will; to put it plainly, it is fundamentally undemocratic. It has outlived its era, largely because it has not usually contradicted the popular vote. However, it has now done so twice in my lifetime. Demographic changes suggest future splits between the popular and electoral votes may become more common, a development which would dishearten voters and undermine our democracy.

There is precedent to a major change in our procedures for electing federal officials. The Twelfth Amendment modified the Electoral College itself, while the Seventeenth Amendment provided for the popular election of Senators. Other countries have used and subsequently abandoned systems similar to our Electoral College. It is time we abandoned a system which can only hurt, and never improve, our electoral process.

Abolishing the Electoral College may not totally prevent a future Donald Trump from eking out a narrow victory. However, it would make it considerably more difficult, and empower voters who will not have to worry that their vote will be discounted by a tragic and embarrassing glitch in the system. I ask that you will make the passage and subsequent ratification of this amendment a priority.

Respectfully,
David Miller

Trumpland

I always used to pity people who had bumper stickers from losing political campaigns on their cars. I always assumed that if a cause was doomed, I'd be canny enough to avoid plastering my vehicle with a daily reminder of failure. But to be perfectly honest, I was not canny enough at all.

People like me made several errors in judgment throughout the 2016 presidential campaign. Our two biggest faults were as follows: underestimating the appeal of coded white supremacy to disenchanted white folks, and assuming that Trump's endless stream of scandals, gaffes, and ill-considered impulses would matter in the slightest. As to the former, that was unforgivably short-sighted. As to the latter, who could blame us? Usually, when a candidate behaves as barbarously as Donald Trump, they fail. But then again, few in recent memory ever have behaved as barbarously as Donald Trump.

As results were returned on Tuesday night and it became increasingly clear that something was dreadfully wrong, I felt intense waves of anxiety pulsing through my heart. It hit me that with Trump in the White House, a Republican-dominated House and Senate, and the prospect of multiple nominations for the Supreme Court, the nation was soon to find itself walking a tightrope without a net. A lot of people are going to find themselves vulnerable, and suffering, in the coming months. All this from the election of a man who could not even achieve a plurality in the popular vote.

I felt sick to my stomach. And a precious few hours later, I had to wake up, drive to school, and teach a lesson on just what the hell happened to a class of confused and dismayed children. Maybe I'm lucky that my students are, by and large, anti-Trump. It spared me the pain of facing my tormentors directly. But as comfortable as my classroom walls made me feel, I never forgot that a house with Trump/Pence signs and a Confederate flag stood just a short walk up the road.

I've been critical and supportive of both Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. Right now, I sympathize with them completely, as I can only imagine that this turn of events has left them both feeling lost and humiliated. Obama's legacy is complicated and imperfect, but it was won with the best of intentions; now, all of its most admirable points are in danger of being swept aside. It kills me to think that what good came of his historic presidency could be lost; it pains me to think of how Clinton might have improved it.

This is not to say that all is lost, and that we should lay down and die. The only thing that can save us from being run over by a Republican agenda is concerted citizen action on the issues that matter most. I contributed to the Clinton campaign; from now on, I will be contributing to Planned Parenthood, to protect the health and rights of women from a man who thinks he's entitled to their bodies at his pleasure. I'll teach my heart out on the issues that matter most. And two years from now, I'll vote to support a Democratic effort to retake the U.S. Congress.

Donald Trump and his contempt for the rule of law are a direct threat to our constitution and our country. But as long as we hold dear to what matters, we have a chance to turn things around.

Poetries #9

I've been sitting on this post a while because, as a busy busy teacher man, I have not had time to write all the commentary you all love so much.

Well, I've had time. But I'm also enthusiastic using my freedom in the pursuit of nothing. So there you go.

But now that I have a lazy Saturday evening, it's time to hit you all with another hot mess of poems, scribbled from the depths of my soul-thing.  They're all from August and September of 2016, a fine pair of months in which good things happened and I was fairly creative.

Content warnings for some light sexual and supernatural happenings.

____________________

Left

Lost touch
in a long dream,
continued dreaming
for ages after I woke,
completely out of touch.

Lost fingers
in car doors,
keys in slit
pockets,
touch in mental illness.

Lost enough
regulation time,
lost the penalty kicks too,
forgot where
I left my left shoe.


On resetting the counter from six hundred and nineteen to zero days.

I will lie
awake for nights
in the deep of thought,
examining and dissecting
that evening
for the slightest sign
that I am guilty of a casual sin.

Over and again,
I will lie
on this bed and rationalize
until I am well convinced
that I didn't use her
without the noblest intentions.

I will lie
on a pillow my head doesn't fit
and recall, with perfect accuracy,
that she called it off
before I did.

With a thick, red grin,
I will lie
on my back
and take comfort in knowing
that I was the model
of a patient man.


Laundry Story 

I found an empty washing machine
with three quarters in the slots,
and without thinking, I attempted
the aggravated mortal sin
of stealing seventy five cents.

Mighty God was clearly watching
when I pushed the sliding lever
and found the coins would not go through:
I gave him such a blasphemy,
for wasting a cup of good detergent.

I loaded up the other machine,
and then I thought, at least I'll have
the last word - so I pulled a key
and pried the stubborn quarters out,
to stuff them in my cotton pocket.

Two of them came loose with ease,
but something struck me wrong about
the third; I took a closer look
and found the reason for the jam -
the face of Queen Elizabeth.

It feels strange, but I have never
even been to Canada; now
I have her royal highness on
a shelf, and fifty good American
cents to put towards a visit.


Magick

Pouring salt around our door
and chanting Anglo-Saxon,
you were not surprised
to have eluded their possession,
any more than I was shocked
that you had found religion.

Back when you were casting spells
with kitchen herbs and spices,
carving soapy talismans
and wearing black disguises,
your mother was convinced
that you were just a bit misguided.

Your father wasn't worried,
since you passed in all your classes,
and even when you bought grimoires
from alchemists and witches
he preferred to write your interests off
as adolescent wishes.

As long as no one else could see
the revenants and spirits
menacing around our dorm
with eyelids cold and viscous,
a quaint obsession with enchantment
wouldn't seem suspicious.

But I could not ignore
the spectral hellions' endeavors,
nor the lore you had amassed
in circles carved with scepters,
iron charms and sacred songs,
enchanted wards of heather.

The wonder of it was,
the transformation was successful,
and how your tender form became
a shining, potent vessel -
an aegis from a goddess,
raised to infinite potential.


Wiss

Wiss,
the lady of the parlor whispered,
join me in the parlor for an
innocent adventure.

Wiss,
the woman in the ballroom whistled,
see the way I balance on my
stylish, modern heels.

Wiss,
the maiden of the kitchen whispered,
find my kitten, I'm afraid the
little dear is missing.

Wiss,
the matron of the garret whistled,
let me out, I guarantee that
you will not regret it.

Wiss,
the disembodied spirit whispered,
the shadows called me by this name,
before they did me in.


On the Leather Seats

A dozen efforts
thwarted,
twenty penetrations
slipped
and several muttered curses,
then a loud, remonstrative

fuck

and then
a helping hand,
and then a satisfying 
click.


Rock and Roll, and Other Children's Records

Maybe, when you think about it,
but what do I know?  I wouldn't know.

This is all I've got to add:
pop was a mistake, and rock

was always just a misguided attempt
to take it back.  But don't be sorry;

it turns out all we needed
was rhythm and blues all along.


"Caravan", Again

Three successive days,
strange versions of "Caravan"
lift the radio.


After Dark

Tuning out, I take a moment on my phone, I lean against a convenient pillar,
and then I see from out the corner of my eye a friendly, feminine face -
she looks at me with auburn eyes, expectantly, as if she were an old friend of mine.

And I am at a loss for words - I stutter, "hey", and ask if we could have met before -
I was confused, I said, because she looked as though she wanted to talk to me.

"No", she answered, before returning to her sisters, "I was waiting for you to talk to me".

She is gone, and with an instinct I depart across the room, to the open bar,
for now I have become a handsome man without a witness.


Before the Dawn, I Know of Such Release

Before the dawn, I know of such release,
as only joyful tension can provide.

The twists of night are settled down in peace,
and in anticipation, I abide
without the aid of any false alarm.

It is a blessing to awaken now,
because the day is scattering its charm,
and I am overcome with thinking how
I'll soon be gathered up in your embrace.

And like a rapid river I am free,
though miles separate me from your face -
a thousand millions couldn't hinder me.

You only need a little patience more
to find me flowing sweetly by your door.


Senses

Eye delighted, ear delights,
and mouth inebriated -
so delightful, says my skin
with liquid, cool detachment -
nose cannot reply, because
the scent has left it speechless.


Stubborn bees

Stubborn bees discover blooms in empty parks and gardens, growing from dead bushes.


On the Passing of a Hateful Poet

The best that could be said on his behalf
was that his politics, philosophy,
and all the record of his acts and deeds
were calculated cruelty - and yet
his book of poems named him "hypocrite".


Crying Out, the Cruelest Plunder

Soldiers, treasure hunters, mighty governments
have gathered at the bottom of a faded quarry,
further wearing out its porous limestone walls
with steam machines and lights like pale, imprisoned stars.
Their shovel-hands have come to excavate my bones,
my skeleton of ashes, middens, ancient graves,
and precious works of art, endemic to my soul.
They work in ceaseless shifts with automatic drills,
to separate the songs and legends, words and faith
(which they confess they never wanted anyway)
from out the rock and soil, bone from bloodied flesh.
They come again, from year to year, in search of plunder,
always something different, always something else
to feed on from the sorrows of my burdened body,
and never once in all the passing centuries
of scavenging from me, has any vagabond
been satisfied to wait until I'd truly died:
they'd gladly tear my ribs to see the living blood.


At Champoeg State Park

Held across the sky, a wind-blown barrier
stills with the lightness of the breeze.
With a step and a high vault,
I could reach across the threshold
and fall into the smooth sea of slim birds.
Cloud fire arcs across the rim,
burns leaves in seven shades of green;
half of them in the dangerous night,
another half aglow,
and I am born aloft on a circus dare
through bold canopies, sail in hand.

____________________

Left is a little dance of irregular lines, a short meditation on a typical state of my mind. That makes it sound more interesting than it probably is.

I kind of had to write On resetting the counter, though it may have been a little TMI. It's literally true, I did break my sexual dry spell this summer after six hundred and nineteen days, with the help of a woman who I have not seen since; she sent me a text two days later about just being friends. Having never been in a position quite like that, I tried to express my ambivalence about what we'd been through and how it ended up. My life has changed since then and I'm pretty over it now, but this is a good record for me to have.

Laundry Story is another one of those things that I think is pretty funny, and it's absolutely based on a true story, with only a few fudged details. I tinkered with the meter with all the love due to a really bad joke, and I will always be fond of this one.

Magick didn't turn out with all the majesty I'd hoped for. I had this idea for a rhyming story with rhymes that didn't quite work, and that is exactly what I got. The impact feels a little meh to me, but I tried.

I aimed for creepy with Wiss and I think that one succeeded well. It has a Victorian ghost-story feel to it, and while I'm unsure if "Wiss" is a real (or even plausible) name, the whole thing sprung up from an idle thought that it was a sort of creepy sound. Sometimes that's all it takes.

On the Leather Seats is a sexy little fake-out, the kind of thing that brings a smirk to your face when you've read it. Hopefully. I'm smirking anyway. I'm sure there have been plenty of real sexual adventures that started like this.

Rock and Roll is one of those weird sort-of-free verse poems that I sometimes write with the intention of sounding kind of sleepy and drunk. I swear, it really is on purpose. It's a little sermon on music, and the fake-drunkenness is a small attempt to make that more interesting.

There are two haiku in this collection. One, "Caravan", Again, was based on nothing more than an observation that I'd heard three different versions of that jazz standard in three days. Stubborn bees has a little more to it. It is both a reflection on nature and the seasons, as a true haiku should be, and also arranged as a single line. It is my understanding that this is the way of things in authentic Japanese haiku, and I thought a long line would be more interesting and less "choppy".

After Dark is another true story, pretty much exactly true. It describes an interaction that took place over perhaps twenty seconds, but was sufficiently strange to remember. I was also heavily under the influence of Whitman's Leaves of Grass that night, and tried to imitate the kind of free verse he used so masterfully.

Before the Dawn and Senses are very special poems, both being written for my new girlfriend, Ariele. I met her shortly after my aforementioned "adventure", so scandal-mongers be at ease! I wrote her a sonnet, as that is the most classic form of romantic poetry; though I tried to put a twist on it with a rethinking of the rhythm and  line arrangement. Senses is less labored over, but it's also pretty cute.

On the Passing of a Hateful Poet is a little clumsy in the meter, but it expresses a particular thought I had about people with shitty personalities who nevertheless produce beautiful creative work. I've actually forgotten who I specifically had in mind, and that's not a cop-out. Anyway, it bothers me that a person who thinks beautiful thoughts can fail to live up to them, and I feel it's a kind of hypocrisy if those thoughts come out as art or poetry. But hypocrisy, I fear, is inevitable for all of us.

Crying Out, the Cruelest Plunder is a solidarity poem, for indigenous people who continue to be threatened by colonization. It was written as I learned about the issues surrounding the Dakota Access Pipeline, which threatens the Standing Rock Sioux community. It was originally to have been in free verse, but the first line led me to favor hexameters.

At Champoeg State Park is another nature poem, written on a school field trip to the place of that name. Just a short meditation on the look of trees and clouds, with a wistful imagined flight to provide some action. Bonus information: I learned on this trip that the customary pronunciation of "Champoeg" is /ʃæmˈpui/, which is just silly.

Less than a month

And then this will all be over.  Well, it really won't because Trump will contest the election (ineffectually, but noisily) and his legacy of outrageous fascism will live on... but at least I'll be able to call him and everyone who voted for him a loser, and then take a nice, peaceful nap for about a year.

I'm now as certain as I can comfortably be that Hillary Clinton will be the next President of the United States.  That means we'll have to reckon with all of her political baggage, but also that we will have averted a Trumpian apocalypse, and will have opened the door for qualified and inspired women to assume the Presidency in years to come.  So, that's cause to feel good.

I've been putting off writing about the election for a while, because contemplating a future where Donald Trump is the President of anything is viscerally disgusting.  It's only in recent weeks, as the Donald's poll numbers have tanked miserably, that I've actually felt comfortable laughing at his buffoonery again. 

Donald Trump is only funny when his eventual humiliation is assured.  He'd be even more risible if he were marching off to prison for the sexual assaults he's all but admitted to committing, but the prospect of his losing decisively in November is also pretty satisfying.  Laughing in the faces of ignorant white men is also a fond desire.

I know I'm getting ahead of myself, and setting myself up to eat serious crow in the event that Trump does pull off whatever the opposite of a miracle is.  But I need the pick-me-up.

I actually did spend this Monday discussing the election with my students, including the reasons why I could not possibly support Trump.  Most of my students are in agreement that he is, to use a commonly cited phrase, "a racist asshole".  A consensus for supporting Hillary Clinton is less pronounced, but that's their business.  I really don't want to tell my students what to think - but it's imperative to me that they understand what a danger Trump represents to their futures.

How they'll feel after four years of Hillary Clinton, when many of them will at last be of voting age, is any one's guess.  I am content to see how she does, and try to evaluate her term in a fair manner.  I have my expectations, and she will probably fall short of some of them, while exceeding others.  But at least she won't be a tenth as awful as Trump's worst potential.

I'm going to shut up about politics (here at least) until after Election day.  But as busy as I am with work and stuff, I want to post some new poetry soon, and maybe even get back to work on that fiction I kind of abandoned last year.  Maybe when the last of my Trump anxiety has faded.

What I Would Say To My Students

If the majority of you could vote, and you had the will to do so, I would feel much better about November.

Unfortunately, even the certain knowledge that the "right" candidate would win the Presidency this year, couldn't set me wholly at ease. The good intentions of a voter cannot account for the reality of elected officials, or the reality of the state we all suspect is looking to screw us. 

It's not my job - in fact, it's against the purpose of my job - to tell you what to think, who to follow, and who to vote for. But it would be immoral not to be honest with you about where I see this country is going (to say nothing of the world), and more so to deny where we've already come to.  I'll do my best in the classroom; if any of you should stumble upon this essay, I hope you will find it more useful.

Many of you know, or suspect, that you live in a medium tainted by political propaganda.You may not know it at a conscious level, but you've learned to suspect that official narratives can be manipulative and self-serving, that authorities can be wrong (deliberately or mistakenly),and that issues can be much more complicated than they appear. Much of what is not criticized or questioned is actually an illusion.

Unfortunately, the people who are most willing to "disillusion" you have only their own illusions to offer in their place. At a fundamental level, this is inevitable. If the veil could really come down, we would have torn it off the rings centuries ago. It's not that we prefer the veil of our illusory worldviews, but rather that in a practical sense there is nothing else to see.

At that fundamental level, people have lived in the illusions of their own worldviews for all of human history. Perhaps there have been prophets and seers who truly could perceive the world as it "really" is. In your life, you're more likely to encounter a series of alternative perspectives. Many of these will be illogical, unscrupulous, and sinister. They will also be dangerously appealing.

Let's get specific: I'm talking about the outrageous pet theories of racists, bigots, and misogynists. I'm talking about the people who cast aspersions on the characters of innocent Jews and Muslims; who proudly ignore the slow, tortuous genocide of indigenous people; who regard Africans, Latinos, or Romani people as racially dishonest and criminal; who interpret poverty and opulence as outward manifestations of human worth; who equate desperate need with greed, and aggressive greed with an admirable intelligence; who peddle inane theories about the size of women's brains and their fitness for an undomesticated existence; who obsess over the harmless sexual practices of their neighbors, and insist on policing and demeaning their habits, activities, and genitals; who treat children and women as a kind of property, to be "protected" or "targeted" in a proud struggle between men; who submissively revere power as expressed through arbitrary violence and self-destructive behavior; who muse on the possibility of improving the world by mutilating or murdering people they deem inferior, defective, or unproductive.

I'm talking about ideas which are repeated so easily, by people so parochial they hardly know why parochialism should be a problem, that the average listener may not even perceive their full implications. Lift up your eyes, and you'll find yourself engulfed in a sea of such nonsense. Or maybe you won't - I don't pretend to know how the veil looks from where you're standing.  Whatever your eyes see, I only hope you are listening too.
_______________

Now, this is the section where I tell you what to think, who to follow, and who to vote for.

In November of 2016, the voters of the United States will have their choice of being led by a woman with a problematic history of secrecy, obscurity, and inconsistency (the sins of a career politician); and a man who thinks that being rich and famous gives him the right to treat women and girls like toys. More broadly, Donald Trump sees all people as a means to an end, granting them conditional respect as human beings only to the extent that they resemble him, enable him, and embody his prejudices. Hillary Clinton is also ambitious, arrogant, and occasionally dishonest. However, there is nothing - absolutely nothing - in her history to indicate she is prone to the kind of cartoonish corruption which Trump openly aspires to.

There are basically three reasons why Trump has a chance of becoming the next President of the United States. Accounting for these reasons here cannot change the underlying reality. But for your own sake, you should study them, and understand them well.

First, the political system of the U.S. is highly polarized, and strongly favors two dominant political organizations over any upstart rivals. This is not to say that a third party candidate cannot become President, because if that candidate were to win a majority of votes in the electoral college that is exactly what would happen. But constitutional, psychological, and economic factors have conspired to turn Presidential elections into a bipolar tug-of-war, so that a third party candidacy can really only affect the outcome by sapping the strength of one side relative to the other. A vicious cycle maintains the duopoly of Republicans and Democrats on the White House, and Donald Trump is the Republican Party's duly chosen candidate this year.

Second, Americans have increasingly grown frustrated with the state of their country and its role in the world. They come by this frustration in many ways, but they mostly come by it honestly. The truth is, as a global super-power with an imperial (and expensive) military, an economic regime that encourages a huge gulf between the rich and the poor, and a continuing history of brutish racial oppression, there is a lot to be frustrated with. American voters are savvy enough to know that the two-party system and its conventional politicians are in large part responsible for this. Trump is unconventional enough to appear, in some circles, as a viable protest candidate.

Third, Donald Trump has shamelessly rooted his politics in prejudice and reaction. He aspires to lead the United States as a paragon of masculine power, respected for his wealth, physical prowess, sexual boldness, and his brash self-confidence. This is not necessarily a losing strategy in a country inhabited by millions of men who resent the erosion of traditional masculinity. Neither is it necessarily unwise to disparage religious and ethnic minority groups in a land full of paranoid white Christians, accustomed to being treated as "real Americans" and surrounded by those they see as usurpers and impostors. Trump affirms their parochial anxieties, and declares that he has the macho strength of will to put everything back in its "right" place.  Even as he is the candidate of radical change, Trump is also the candidate of traditional hierarchies and vulgar parochialism.

The Democratic Party, meanwhile, has nominated someone who largely stands with the political establishment, even as she upends traditional notions about the suitability of women for leadership. Under the administration of Hillary Clinton, the United States will not become a paradise of economic and social equality; neither will it cease in its role as a global empire, terrorizing foreign people with drones and manipulating the affairs of other nations. There is always hope that it may become marginally better, but a message like that does not inspire in so visceral a way.

_______________

I am voting for Hillary Clinton because I believe she is good enough: she is the best candidate the nominating process has produced, third parties included. I believe there is symbolic value in voting for a woman, even if she is not an avatar of feminist ideological purity. I believe that many people in this country could face grave danger if she loses, from Trump himself or from the reactionary politicians who take advantage of his rise. She doesn't represent everything I want in a candidate, but her opponent represents everything I do not want.  I must oppose him, and the best way I can see to do that is to support Clinton.

Most of you cannot vote in this election, but if our Constitution continues to operate for the foreseeable future, you will have the opportunity to vote in others. I can't foresee what those elections may look like, or what the candidates of the future may offer you. But this election may offer important lessons, which you would do well to learn.

Democracy is not just a mechanism for assigning power to individuals. It is also an ideology, a system of values. It is one which the United States, for all its faults and hypocrisies, has professed to support. It is a rebuke to tyranny and a defense of ordinary people, a declaration that they can manage their own interests responsibly. If you believe in these values, do not support a candidate whose only constant political value is "strength".

Democracy is only possible in a system that is ruled by laws. The laws of the United States are often confused and cruel in their execution, but in being ruled by them we at least are not ruled by the whims of a contemptuous dictator. Laws can be changed without bloodshed, but when a leader has no respect for law or custom, there is no guarantee he will not use naked violence to get his way. If you believe in the rule of law, do not support a candidate who sees it as an inconvenience or a joke.

It is possible to change the worst aspects of our political situation; however, it requires hard work and a concerted effort among responsible and motivated people. Resist the urge to treat any candidate, no matter how anti-establishment, as a savior who can fix everything in a few short strokes. Instead, look for candidates for Congress and the Presidency who will take responsibility for improving our infrastructure and our society. Do not support candidates who are wantonly irresponsible in all aspects of their lives.

Lastly, remember that even if politics seems alienating and irrelevant to your life, the outcomes of elections matter dearly to a lot of people. The rights of women, people of color, immigrants, the poor, gender and sexual minorities, and people with disabilities, are considered to be expendable in a society that does not care about the people behind those generic labels. If you care about the rights and the welfare of your neighbors, do not support a candidate who treats them with contempt, or open hostility.

Our politics work best when more citizens are engaged with them. But they will never work perfectly, and the United States may soon have its day of reckoning for its mistakes and its errors. For now, the best we can do is to try and govern ourselves with dignity and wisdom, to compromise when we must and defend what really matters.

Most of all, remember that world is always more than it seems to be. If you doubt your own judgment, take a good long time and listen.

Poetries #8

I think by now, a careful reader with an appetite for punishment will have figured out all my tricks and inclinations when it comes to poetry.  I like to think I'm fairly diverse with the forms and techniques I use, but I also know I'm not a genius at this.  Talented maybe, but clumsy, impatient, and definitely undisciplined.  Discipline is a requirement for great poetry, and you'll find little of it here.

It doesn't really matter though, because I had quite a lot of fun writing these poems.  Yes, even the mopey ones.  These poems are all from the month of July 2016, a month in which I had little to do and plenty of time to ignore it.  I think I had a few good ideas that came out in decent shape, so here they are for your reading pleasure.

As far as content warnings go, The Security System Fails makes reference to school shootings; Came to Grips and Coughing both have to deal with illness (nothing serious, I just had a bad summer cold); Honey Pot and We've Been Here Before have some kind of weird food/sex vibe going on.  Honestly I don't know why that keeps happening.

As usual, commentary at the end for the patient and forgiving.

____________________ 

Flashes of Light in a Terrible Drought

Embers sparking in the streets
of south Eugene at two in the morning,
close to where the bowling alley
went ablaze a year ago.

White and yellow, Chinese Lanterns
cut the deep blue night to ribbons,
down the street from the empty lawn
where Civic Stadium used to stand.

Candy coated reds and blues
pollute the darkness of the moon,
pursuing drivers on the run
across the bright Willamette River.

Advice for the Young Growing Old

Celebrate a life
of gentleness and kind words;
cultivate a quiet state of mind.

Find a peaceful home
within your heart for all the
wild, impulsive marches of the soul.

Love the entire world
as much, if you can manage,
as you despise its worst injustice.

Be as human as
your parents and your children,
breathing deep the air of growth and grace.

Indestructible

Hanging by his ankles from the wide
window, his feet betraying no concern -
a lazy smile, seven stories high
and over ninety million miles beneath
a nonchalant, recumbent summer sun.
A finely cultivated air of rapture
emanates from truly unrepentant
troublemakers in the prime of life.

Playlist

Depending on you,
accidents will happen;
night bird flying,
capturing moods.
I found a reason
not to touch the Earth -
give it time.

Honey Pot

Honey, spread on flesh and seared to fine amber,
sprinkled fresh in batter, smeared with butter; honey
with agave, honey blessed with maple syrup.

Pure and unadulterated honey pot,
such impressive composition, say the judges,
spoonful after spoonful dripping cool with bliss.

Bursting spring, when nectar, honey are in season!
Honey pots are overflowing, spread on flesh and
baked in bread, a splash of lust, a blush of honey.

Came to Grips

I wore a bit of cloth between myself
and the cold night that whispered through the blinds.

He closed on my throat, pushed my shoulders down,
and drew my breath across the length of my chest.

The fine hairs on my arms ans legs protested,
they resisted being called to rise.

An urgent cough was satisfied, another
cough suppressed, another half released.

A hollow circle, whole and battered, swung
around, and dissipated what it stole.

The Ecstasy

Heaven is a faint cloud
of noble gasses, lit with ball lightning
an instant after closing time.

Etymologies

Her parents named her oldest brother John
in trust that God would fill his heart with grace;

they called her second oldest brother Rob
when they foresaw a future in his face.

Their youngest son was duly christened Fred
in yearning for the dawn of world peace -

and then they named their only daughter Hope,
that from her chains she would obtain release.

The Security System Fails

Hard iron blast shields
torn, shaken

          Black rivets
screeched, scattered.

          Charred fingers.

Dead blisters.

          Red bullets
struck twenty two students.

Coughing

Cough so loud
the old guitar
beside me hums
in harmony -
cough so loud,
the sweetest sound
echoes through
her body like
a soft volcano,
trembling in
her hollow breast.

We've Been Here Before

Wet with citrus,
weighted down with sweet juice
in the steam of hot days.

Orange fruit
and lemons, ripe and palpable
through bright, dimpled skin.

A mist quickens,
percolating from the air
and sweetening the brain.

Baskets dip,
and liberated tangerines
burst loudly with color.

A hand is reaching
up, further through thick leaves,
claiming nature's touch.

Barely conscious
of the cool scent, the young picker
gladly obeys commands.

A whole day
to be lost, overcome with wet
desire, lost in the orchard.

Madame Owl

Silent feathers, silent talons clasping
electric branches in the urban dark,
and still she sings in lovely tones.

                              Explosions
ripple forth from errant motorcycles,
and she calls them, hoot, hoot -

                              She calls
aloud, to wheels roaring, engines brilliant
with oil, hoot, hoot -

                    To sleepless city
lights with wild screams and candied colors,
hoot, hoot, she murmurs,

          She will be their mother,
sing the missing lullaby in gentle
measure, send them back to moon and stars.

My Heart

I forgave my heart for breaking,
Lord have mercy, I was gracious
in accepting tearful pleas
from a sad and stricken penitent.

I forgave my heart, but I
did not forget its base, craven
treachery, its sabotage
and painful, pitiful surrender.

I forgave my heart, and I
remembered why it broke, forever,
and I never let the sobbing fool
forget its shame and sorrow, either.

Five in the Morning

Sweat in my sore eyes,
I might never sleep again -
have to click "refresh".

She Looks Straight Ahead

The sky is clear and the day cool, but soon
you know it will be hot; you are prepared.
A fan positioned by the open window,
a pot of Arnold Palmer - your breast is bared
and the soothing breeze reflects across your shoulders.
Through your blinds, the common swimming pool
erupts with laughter, dazzling and delighted
with itself for hosting such a jewel.
She walks with such assurance, you could swear
she was Astrud Gilberto, her intent
to make love in her lithe, familiar guise
to someone equally magnificent.
The light across her shoulder blades is kind,
but oh, you watch her so sadly through the blinds.

____________________

Flashes is the sort of poem a Californian writes after watching Oregonians make merry with fireworks on the Fourth of July.  Aren't they afraid of wildfires!?  The police are of course pursuing drunk drivers, since the fireworks are totally legal.  Civic Stadium and Southtown Lanes in Eugene did both burn down a year ago, so this poem gets a little bit of historical dating in that regard.  I don't know if fireworks were involved.

Advice is really about me advising myself, though it is phrased as advice for others out of sheer, unbridled arrogance.  This is the best way to give yourself advice.  The poem arises from my continuing efforts to internalize attitudes that promote peace of mind.  Call it a therapy poem.  Maybe one day it will be found on a therapist's wall.

I'm not sure what brought on Indestructible, but I got the image and I had to write about it.  Just some troublemaker worrying the neighbors while dangling from a window, feeling the limits of freedom.  Hope he has sunscreen.

 

Playlist is kind of dumb.  Kind of really dumb, actually.  For starters, it's an acrostic, which is just... yeah.  An acrostic of the word "dancing".  And each of the lines is a song title taken from my iTunes library.  Ugh.  I did my best to choose titles for good effect, but let's be honest here.  This was a goof.  A goof from start to finish.  At best it's cute.

Mmmmmm, Honey Pot.  This is me in a sensual mood.  It's scary.  This poem is notable for its hexameter lines, which is longer than I usually write.  It's a little repetitive and draggy, but mmmmm.  Honey.

Came to Grips is kind of a strange one.  I had a really bad cough that was keeping me up at night, and I started thinking about ancient depictions of nightmares as demons or incubi that sat on people's chests and drained their life out.  Spooky.  The lines are pentameters, with a lot of long feet placed in for variety.

The Ecstasy comes out of my recurring fascination with the difficulty of properly rendering haiku in English, leading directly to misguided attempts.  Here I went with a 5/7/5 pattern of words rather than syllables, because everything is made up and the points don't matter.  Ball lightning is a very mysterious phenomenon, and noble gasses like neon glow with colors when electricity passes through them.  Pretty straightforward for a poem about transcendence.

Now I like Etymologies, but we should be clear that it is not much more than it appears to be.  I like the idea of parents giving names to children on the basis of deep research into the historical meaning of their names, rather than for silly reasons like tradition or novelty.  The three brothers only exist, of course, to set up Hope's couplet, which is a neat little bit of Feminism 101.  The whole thing came to me after considering why it is that so many girl's names are also abstract nouns like Hope or Faith or things like that, while the same is uncommon with boys' names.  Of course, once upon a time all names had transparent meanings in their original languages.

The Security System Fails was an experiment in spondees that went dark quickly.  I think the experiment was successful, as the ratio of stressed to unstressed syllables is two to three (more than that just would not flow).  It got kind of a scary mood, and turned into a vignette about the limits of visible security measures in the face of determined malice.  Twenty two was chosen for sound and visual purposes, and is not a reference to the casualties of any actual incident.

Coughing is another poem about this damn cough.  It's about trying to find beauty in a painful inconvenience, and was inspired by an actual guitar.

Oh damn, I got all sensual again and seriously abused the word "wet".  We've Been Here Before is about memories of picking fruit with a lover, poetically transmogrified into rampant debauchery.  Avert your eyes.  It also continues my recent fascination with the spondee.

Madame Owl is basically made up of pentameters, but I tried to give the lines a more interesting shape.  It's an attempt at describing the sounds I often hear through my window at night.  Not sure why I can't describe the lights on police and emergency vehicles without referencing candy, but I think it works.

Mopey shit in tetrameters, that's what My Heart is.  Kind of a cracked attempt at getting to the bottom of a heartache that never really heals.

Five in the Morning is just a regular old syllabic haiku about insomnia.

I'm glad it turned out to be last, because She Looks Straight Ahead is my favorite.  Lust, longing, and the Girl from Ipanema in sonnet form.  I'm actually kind of proud of the rhyme work here, especially intent/magnificent.  It looks almost wrenched, but it's really not.  Well done, poet.  The "you" in the poem is not me, but I think "you" and I are kindred spirits.