quote unquote

 

--nicanor parra

roller boogie

broken hearted & soul sick we decided to get out of the house.  like everyone we have doomscrolled the videos of horror, terror & abject cruelty.  we are outraged.  we are fucking fed up.  poetry is not a salve.  it is not a balm.  like WCW said, it is difficult to get the news from poetry but many men die everyday from lack of what is found there.  remember the reading/writing of poems is to engage the world, as it is, but if only maybe we can, thru language, change it a little for the better.

even so, we got out of the house tonight.  a little exercise was in order.  we picked up l., anna's sister, on the way to the roller-skating rink called, natch, The Rink.  it used to be called King Skate Country when we were wee kids.  but the place looks just the same.  even the bathroom hadn't changed.  tonight was Adult Skate.  anna & l. have their own skates.  but me, i haven't laced up a pair of roller skates in at least 10 years.  i needed to rent mine.

thing is, i managed to stay upright.  i might've been the oldest dude there too.  the music was mostly EDM & hip-hop.  played at a volume where the bass was not heard but felt in the solar plexus.  anna is a natural & looked great on the floor.  the effort to stay upright & skate the oval of the floor was some really freaking work!  my legs still feel like jelly.   

it would've been cool if the house DJ played some tunes that were on the PA when anna & i were regulars at King Skate Country.  like 'another one bites the dust' by queen.  & 'don't go breaking my heart' by elton john & kiki dee.  but the DJ played music for the mostly younger skaters.  & there were more than a few skaters that had moves & grooves that could give the skaters of the roller boogie era some competition.  

anna took a pic & video of me. doing my thing.  again, i hadn't laced up skates since nick was a cub scout many years ago & we had a cub scout event at The Rink.  i surprised myself as i managed to gain a bit more confidence in my skating.  tho i am sure the skaters on the floor probably saw this wobbly old man & made mental notes to steer clear!

there might be a poem in it!  at any rate, here is a pic of me, ready steady poeta, about to get into the groove of an ordinary night in america.

peace & love 

frog pond bullet koan

 what is the sound of boiling water & 8 bullets shot from a gun

light & shadow in NorCal

 

A B R

Always

Be

Reading

on the nite stand

 

quote unquote

it's a poem.  don't worry about it.

--duncan mcnaughton

glances in an alley

o body swayed to music, o brightening glance,

how can we know the dancer from the dance?

--william butler yeats

quote unquote

 

translated by clare cavanagh

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YANKY GO HOME

Pero llévame contigo

--nicanor parra

you must walk

the events of the past week have made me heartsick.  like a lot of people.  holding it together becomes a full-time job.  information becomes our new currency.  who controls it can control the world.  the future was imagined to be a world made for energy systems, space craft, brute force.  but hardly any speculative stories were about the flow & control of information.  but of course truth will want out.  nothing is hidden anymore.  but our own belief systems can lead us astray.  powerful algorithms feed us information only we want to hear.  yet, truth, with a capital T, may be obfuscated by the brokers of information & yet truthful information is right at our fingertips too.

at any rate, i went for a long walk this evening.  i try to get in at least five miles two or three times a week.  i am officially an old dude now.  my BP is on the higher side now, for example.  but walking is more than just an exercise.  it rejiggers the mind & imagination.  it elevates the mood.  i've been walking to & from the office for over 20 years.  someone said to me recently why don't you get an e-bike to get to work.  it would be faster.  but that's not walking, i counter.  i love walking.  i think i was a born flaneur.  

so i walked downtown at dusk.  thru midtown.  i put on my airpods & turn on deep house EDM.  the city is prettier at night.  especially a cold, clear night like this evening.  deep house EDM is perfect for it too.  my steps feel in time to the beat.  the cold arpeggios of the synths match the lyrical streets of traffic & pedestrians.  i pass dogs & their humans.  busy restaurants.  victorian homes & bungalows & the newly built townhouses constructed in a kind of modular style so common to new buildings of the 21st C.  these townhouses rise several stories too so it feels like i am walking in some sci-fi movie.  

located on 7th & R streets is Beers Books.  i brought my backpack because i knew i would stop in.  i find a collection of poems by richard jackson.  a poet unknown to me but his book is a series of poems based on petrarch.  i read a couple & say yep!  besides, i am attracted to the poet's name, richard jackson.  plain, good & antipoetical.  like mine, i think.  i also bought a book for my brother in rhyme, jonathan hayes, that i'll send him, along with a couple of books that i long promised him too.  just don't tell jonathan about this new book.  i want it be a surprise, okay.  i also find a book on balthus that i almost bought.  & a monograph on the early 20th C painter george bellows.  i discovered bellows in the early '90s at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.  one of his boxing paintings.  that was a wild weekend in LA.  but i decide to save balthus & bellows for another walk to Beers.

onward.  i go deeper into downtown.  to 2nd st.  end of the line.  for beyond it is I-80.  i turn around on T st.  i vary my routes when i walk.  tonight is the first walk down T st.  i like to look at the signage.  the names of the neighborhoods.  names like Poverty Ridge & Alkali Flats.  lots of people out this saturday night. i walk by a restaurant.  i look inside.  packed.  outside is an elderly asian woman who looks at me & says, hi hi hi!  laid out on the sidewalk is her merchandise.  produce from either her farm or garden.  i wonder if she gets any sales.  

my mood is lifting.  the EDM beats just right.  my city is an ordinary city but also looks like it could be a set from the film blade runner.  people seem genuinely kind.  perhaps it is merely my mood.  but i do get a lot of smiles in return to mine.  perhaps it is because i look like a non-threatening older gent.  i am wearing black.  i have a backpack.  & airpods.  & white hair.  whatever it be i'll take it.  walking cures the soul.  it helps with the body too.  i hope.  

below is an excerpt from the notebooks of the norwegian poet olav h. hauge.  i post it here for his entry on walking.  hauge is something of a hero of mine.  perhaps it is because of shared affections.  perhaps it is because i too am half norwegian.  from my mother's side.  grandma was born & bred in bergen, norway.  at any how, after my walk i become, again, halfway human.  you must walk!

                           

in vino veritas, poeta

it's friday nite, been one fucked up week, yes, our shit is fucked up, here is mississippi fred mcdowell to play the blues

i fucking love the way mississppi fred mcdowell's guitar weeps, screams & sings!

simple things

a couple of beers

handful of salty chips

clips of some really bad movies on youtube

& a few lines of poetry

are just enough

maybe

it's the sunday nite after the holidays & you wanna hear an exquisite song about never losing your dream(s) sung by a man who has, i think, one of the most perfect voices in contemporary pop music, as the world goes fucking crazy, again, this is a beautiful performance

i love a rainy night

the picture on the mantle is crooked

stars align -- so it is said

we are made of stardust

& we shall return to dust

so it is said

give me the heartbreak of the world

which bears too much on the heart

as we slide into another turn around the sun