Archive for September, 2010
Over the past year or so, there has been a lot of talk here on clareified.com about ending relationships; friends lost, lovers dismissed, or people just kicked to the curb for a number of minor and/or major offenses. I’m not calling out any one specific thing, just the general sense of ease most people seem to have on terminating relationships.
I have, for the most part, kept my thoughts to myself on these matters. Mostly, because I guess I just don’t agree with everyone else. Or, maybe I choose my friends better than other people. Or, maybe I’m just a sucker. I don’t know.
I used to be like Dawn and some of her readers. Cross me, and I was done with you. Either you ceased to exist to me, or I would get filled with indignant wrath. Usually both. I spent a lot of years living like that.
It’s not worth it.
Some might say, “I don’t get angry, I just remove people from my life.” It’s never that easy, and I think that Monkey Paw wine speaks to that argument.
The fact is, people make mistakes. Sometimes lots of them. Sometimes I do it too. For the most part, I don’t think people do these things out of malice. They do it out of ignorance. They do it to protect themselves. They do it for many reasons. It doesn’t mean it’s right, but I’m pretty sure it’s not malicious.
I don’t mean to say that you should keep people in your life that constantly hurt you. No one should do that. But, I find myself giving people lots more chances theses days and trying to understand others’ perspectives.
Though I no longer just cut people off, I certainly have friends and past lovers that I have drifted apart from for various reasons. Often that’s ok, and occasionally it really sucks. They say that time heals all wounds. Sometimes they are wrong. Some wounds never heal, they just become a part of you. Most of my wounds of that nature have to do with relationships lost. And though they are wounds, they are wounds of the best kind. The kind that represents what was lost, but never forgotten.
The following poem speaks to that.
MORE STRONG THAN TIME
Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet,
Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid,
Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it,
And all the perfume rare, now buried in the shade;
Since it was given to me to hear on happy while,
The words wherein your heart spoke all its mysteries,
Since I have seen you weep, and since I have seen you smile,
Your lips upon my lips, and your eyes upon my eyes;
Since I have known above my forehead glance and gleam,
A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always,
Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime’s stream,
Of one rose petal plucked from the roses of your days;
I now am bold to say to the swift changing hours,
Pass, pass upon your way, for I grow never old,
Fleet to the dark abysm with all your fading flowers,
One rose that none may pluck, within my heart I hold.
Your flying wings may smite, but they can never spill
The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet;
My heart has far more fire than you can frost to chill,
My soul more love than you can make my soul forget
VinNay is my first guest poetry blogger who ever did it twice! I didn’t even threaten him with violence!
This was the weekend I realized that I hadn’t gotten Sammy any Patriots stuff because his father really really hated the Patriots. But now that his father is in prison again with very little hope of getting out (hating the Patriots is a crime, as well it should be) I am wrapping this child in Patriots gear from head to toe! I can’t wait till he can talk.
Also, there is lots of blogging happening over on stephaneclare.com, yet very little commenting. This will not stand.
Last night I went to a movie in the theater in which I saw Jurassic Park as a teenager. This, in turn has lead to an existential crisis about whether the fact that I still live about 20 minutes from where I was born makes me a loser. Or is it other factors which makes me a loser.
Go read, go read. I AM HILARIOUS! And Grange writes down stuff I said well. “World famous doesn’t mean what you think it does.” HAHAHAHHAHAHAA
As I posted on Twitter, Mary’s camera made me look like a ghost, and made Dawn look like Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost. However, the sig other saw my pictures of Dawn and proclaimed, “She looks like she’d be a hoot!” High praise indeed. And yes, Dawn is a hoot. However, I’ll lay even odds Mary murders her in a cornfield if they ever travel together again outside the East Coast.
What about the one-legged grungy neo-hippie? Oh yes, I almost forgot. So, as Mary takes a half dozen pictures, trying to get my face to appear on film (a very difficult task when photographing the soulless), a random guy—about mid-20s, scruffy, shaggy hair rubber-banded in back, flannel shirt—wanders over from the bar to offer some friendly assistance. Turns out, he’s not helpful. But, he is entertaining, so I order Dawn a house specialty Tangermeister and we settle in to chat a bit more as the bartender starts putting chairs up on tables and generally uses a great degree of un-subtlety to indicate it’s closing time and he resents our presence. Now, when you see someone with a prosthetic leg, you generally have two reactions: a) curiosity as to how they lost their leg, and b) a realization you shouldn’t ask. Dawn had only one of those reactions:
One-legged guy: [trying to take picture] “Wow, you really do look like a ghost, dude!”
Dawn: “So, how’d you lose your leg?”
One-legged guy: [sitting down in our booth] “Well, it’s kind of funny. I mean, you go out to a bunch of bars. You wake up the next day, and you can’t remember where you put stuff. I mean, you think, ‘I know I had it at that one bar, and I think I had it at the next bar, but then it gets kind of hazy.”
So, as we finished our Tangermeisters, the one-legged guy had me place my hand palm up over the table, and he held his hand palm down above but not touching my hand, in an attempt to “drain my aura” to enable Mary to take my picture. This was uncomfortably close to an exorcism, which would really destroy my poker ability, so I was happy when Mary distracted him with something shiny.
Here’s video of the one legged guy. I am laughing my head off, but not necessarily “with” him. But since he has one leg, I’m not supposed to say that…
Did Vinnay (NO LINK. LINKS ARE FOR BLOGGERS.) flake on poetry Wednesday AGAIN? Yes. Yes he did. Does this mean an additional course on the three course meal I have already demanded? Yes. Yes it does.
So, we’re doing another one of our last minute posts, but this one has sorta been in the back of my mind for a couple of weeks, so it shouldn’t be as scattershot as the last one of these I pulled together. Thank sweet baby Jesus for that.
A couple of weeks ago, I set out on a pseudo roadtrip with Mary to see “The Heartland.” Or what Sarah Palin so sweetly called “real America.” I know she got a lot of flack for it at the time, but I get where she’s coming from. I live in New York and I always call Eastern Standard Time “American time.” I also call New York, America. As in, after my trip to LA, “whew it’s good to be back in America again.” America is where your home is, I suppose.
However, I can appreciate that America isn’t just my corner of the world. No matter how spectacular a corner it is. So, about 8 years ago, after international backlash against President Bush’s 9/11 response turned much of the world against the U.S., I decided nuts to the rest of the world, I would see my country. Well, THE country. And one state at a time, I started my quest. I saw Texas and Montana and Minnesota and Oklahoma and UTAH! Yes, UTAH!
Then I lost my job, became poor and settled for seeing Atlantic City a bunch of extra times, but I still had 20 states that I needed to get back to.
I have been steadily employed for the first time in a long time, so, on a whim inspired by Grange’s birthday offer, I took off for a whirlwind 8 states in 9 days adventure.
I just got back and am still very tired, but I’ll be writing up the trip in greater detail soon. But for now I will simply say, America is a beautiful country. Except for one angry woman working at the fudge counter in Wall-drug and a dirty pool cop in Wyoming, I remain in awe of the kindness and warmth of the people I met. Our national treasures and parks are safeguarded by passionate and knowledgeable gatekeepers. I know “I’m going to Des Moines,” doesn’t sound quite as sexy as “Paris for the weekend,” but I highly recommend giving it a go.
Have dinner at Jethro’s, you won’t regret it. Bring your own corn though.
Thus today’s poem choice was easy (and I assure you, I am NOT cheating by posting music lyrics as poetry) and it should be a familiar one. Well, at least the first stanza, anyone who knows the rest of the poem will be reported to Homeland Security IMMEDIATELY! Dirty spy.
Defence of Fort McHenry (The Stars and Stripes Forever) by Francis Scott Key
1 O! say can you see, by the dawn’s early light,
2 What so proudly we hail’d at the twilight’s last gleaming,
3 Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
4 O’er the ramparts we watch’d, were so gallantly streaming?
5 And the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
6 Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there —
7 O! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
8 O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?
9 On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
10 Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,
11 What is that which the breeze o’er the towering steep,
12 As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
13 Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,
14 In full glory reflected now shines on the stream —
15 ‘Tis the star-spangled banner, O! long may it wave
16 O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.
17 And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
18 That the havock of war and the battle’s confusion
19 A home and a country should leave us no more?
20 Their blood has wash’d out their foul foot-steps’ pollution,
21 No refuge could save the hireling and slave,
22 From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave;
23 And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
24 O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.
25 O! thus be it ever when freemen shall stand
26 Between their lov’d home, and the war’s desolation,
27 Blest with vict’ry and peace, may the heav’n-rescued land
28 Praise the power that hath made and preserv’d us a nation!
29 Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
30 And this be our motto — “In God is our trust!”
31 And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
32 O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.