I hate the day, because it lendeth light, to see all things, but not my love to see

• The last two mix CDs that I made are among my finest ever. It's disappointing that there wasn't much critical reaction to the first, and the second won't get much airplay (because it's meant for a small audience), but I'm still pleased with them.
• I found out earlier this week that several posts, along with the sidebar and footer, of this blog were reposted on an Adult Blogger Site a few years ago, and remain there. I have begun the process of reporting the problem, in hopes that those posts, and potentially the entire infringing blog, will be eliminated. Thanks to Sitemeter for drawing my attention to the situation in the first place.
• Started working on the root (or at least one of the branches) of the headache tonight--the giant lump of stress in my right shoulder. That's where I 'carry' stress, generally, and it's been out of hand for the last week or so. I had a massage tonight that was intended to be just for relaxation but ended up being neck/shoulders/back only, and I would be surprised if there are not bruises all along the top of my back. I feel a lot better than I did, but I still feel really bad. I have another massage set for next week. Maybe by then I will have had a couple of good nights' sleep.
• I used to think that the hardest thing was loving someone who didn't, or couldn't, love you back. Now I think that maybe it's loving someone who does love you, just not quite enough or in the right way.
• Last night I started reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami. It was recommended to me several years ago by a highly respected English prof. So far, so good--but it'll be a while before I'm ready to review this one. It's nice, slow writing.
• On that note: April is National Poetry Month. Enjoy, y'all.

[title quotation by Edmund Spenser]

words are but the vague shadows of the volumes we mean

1. Have you ever felt that you were “made” for someone or some purpose?
   if I was made for someone, it was for my parents, and then only in the literal sense. If I was made for something...it was this: to write. Prehaps just like this, maybe "more", maybe even less formally. But to put my thoughts down on screen or paper--that's why I am.
2. What do you do when you have a problem that you can't do anything about?
   write, of course. I spend a lot of time "working things out" in my journal or here (you may have noticed) or in letters/email to/with my friends. Or I drive, or take long showers, or stare moodily into space.
3. If marijuana were to be legalized, do you think it should be taxed?
   I'd imagine that it would be, and that my opinion would not be weighed beforehand. Should it be, though? It depends on the boundaries of "legalized." If we're talking about simple medical legalization, federally, then no, I do not think that it should be. If, on the other hand, it was opened up for recreational use in any way, then, sure. Tax the hell out of it, just like all the other "moral vices" (alcohol, tobacco, caffeine...).
4. What is one thing you should never do on a first date?
   pick your date off the ground and not let them go within even a remotely reasonable period of time; tell your date that you love them; or buy cheap beer. Sorry, I couldn't limit myself to just one thing.
5. If someone (at gunpoint) forced you to receive a portrait tattoo of someone, who would it be?
   pray, shoot me. Portrait tattoos always, and I mean ALWAYS, look fucking dumb.
6. Is tomorrow going to be a good day?
   if those ubiquitous Peas are to be believed, indeed it is. And they're probably right: it's hump day, I'll be able to enjoy the knowledge that my favorite person is coming back to work in less than a week after being on the DL for months, and I have sneaky plans for the evening.
7. Anything fabulous happen to you last night?
   Fabulous? Me? Not that I recall.
8. For a few years in a row, you receive a nice tax refund: do you make an adjustment with your payroll deduction so they’ll take less, or do you leave it that way so that you can continue to receive the big check every spring?
   it wouldn't happen for a few years in a row. I would much rather pay out once a year than have my money earning non-refundable interest in government accounts, thanks. Assuming that I do my taxes this year...(I will, don't worry), I'm probably going to take quite a hit, but that's so much better for me than the delusional "savings" program that others enjoy.
9. When was the last time you had butterflies in your stomach?
   I've just gotten back in touch with someone who was enormously influential on my life as a young adult. I'm still not sure what to think of the whole thing - so I'm trying not to think about it at all, really, at least in current terms, preferring to recall our exploits from half a lifetime ago instead - because I'm leery of, y'know, courting disaster. For now, it's just a quiet thrill to know that someone I recall so fondly remembers me, too.

[snatched from The Cat, who got it from here; title quotation by Theodore Dreiser]

you remind me of everything that followed

It was movie weekend. My brain cells and liver appreciated the rest, though I have to admit that last weekend was a hell of a lot more fun.

Over the past 6 days I've watched 5 movies.

First up: The Fighter, with Mark Wahlberg and Christian Bale.

This is an absolutely terrific film. Wahlberg is wonderful as always; I would pay to watch him read the phone book. Bale, though, gives a chilling, unforgettable performance. I thought he was pretty good before; after seeing this, I'm convinced of his brilliance. One of the best movies I've seen in years.

Feast of Love, with Greg Kinnear and Morgan Freeman.
Loosely based on the Charles Baxter book by the same name, it is absolutely heartbreaking. It is also sort of stupid at times, and a couple of the performances are forgettable, but I loved the book and also really liked the movie.

Faster, with Dwayne Johnson (a.k.a. The Rock) and Billy Bob Thornton.

1. Dwayne Johnson is in the same category as Mark Wahlberg for me--meaning that I'd pay to watch him do just about anything. A 6-hour documentary on tooth-brushing? Sign me up. Reading Chaucer? Why not. There's just something about him that...works...for me.
2. This movie is not all that great. It has thrilling moments and whole patches of snores.
3. Oliver Jackson-Cohen--a sort of neo-Jake Gyllenhaal with a bitchin' accent--is something else to look at (holy crap is this guy hot) but his acting...well, he's got a way to go before he'll be worthy of carrying Christian Bale's water. A big part of what he does in this movie is to drive a very nice car, very, very fast. While doing so, he has the identical facial expression throughout: chin tucked down, a slight grimace, staring up through his upper eyelashes. It's like watching somebody who's had Botox injections try to emote. Don't get me wrong, it was still a pleasure to see him onscreen, but it was almost like watching the same take, over and over.
4. I've never seen a Billy Bob Thornton movie before. Weird, huh? I discovered that: (a) he's not a terrible actor (like I'd previously thought); (b) he really wasn't hard to watch (like I'd feared); and (c) he [he, meaning, the character, "Cop", not he, Billy Bob Thornton, the actor...I think?] reminded me, in visceral but hard to describe ways, of an attorney that I know. Oddly appealing, twitchy, super intense, seemingly invested in the moment but simultaneously miles away. Frustrating. The sort of personality that either immediately repels or strongly draws one's attention, inspiring one to go to ever greater lengths to capture and retain their notice. I do love a challenge.

The Namesake, with Kal Penn and Irrfan Khan.

 

Based on the book by Jhumpa Lahiri, The Namesake is a long film, tender without being sweet, gorgeously filmed. Kal Penn is wonderful, as always, and Irrfan Khan was a lovely surprise. I expect this to play around in my mind for a long time. [The title quotation is from this movie.]

Rushmore, with Jason Schwartzman and Bill Murray.
My Wes Anderson kick continues; all that's left are the short film Bottle Rocket and the recent Fantastic Mr. Fox. Though this can't touch The Royal Tenebaums as my favorite Anderson film, it was good. Jason Schwartzman was extraordinary as the high school nightmare misfit Max Fischer. Bill Murray is one of those actors that I will never understand; he is so singular that I can't believe I can still dredge up any suspension of disbelief. Somehow, though, he was totally real as Herman Blume, Max's wealthy slob rival for the affections of a 1st grade teacher. I liked it.

There are two more DVDs still on the table before I'm through the current bunch, but it'll be a few days before I see them. April is creeping up fast, and regular readers know what that means...!

I don't give a shit about sleeping, Léon. I want love, or death. That's it.

1. Has anyone ever got angry with you for flirting with their partner or date?
   yep, I had a (full) drink poured over my head at Banger's Pub by a girl who could do little more than slur, "biiitchhh!" and attempt (in vain) to stare menacingly at me, while her ersatz boyfriend blushed and wriggled away from my side, where he'd been glued for the past hour...not at my request, of course, but the drink-dumpers never consider that possibility. Anyway, it wasn't so much that I was flirting with him as that he was within reach of my flirting potential, and she was threatened. Bah! Amateur.
2. What is your favorite movie line or speech? (Set the scene so we appreciate it in context.)
   Léon and Mathilda are seated at a small kitchen table, eating a simple meal. Léon is well old enough to be her father, though he's been acting as her mentor in the "cleaning" (i.e. hitman) business for some time.
   
   Mathilda: Léon, I think I'm kinda falling in love with you.
   [Léon chokes on his milk]
   Mathilda: It's the first time for me, you know?
   Léon: [wiping himself off] How do you know it's love if you've never been in love before?
   Mathilda: 'Cause I feel it.
   Léon: Where?
   Mathilda: [stoking her stomach] In my stomach. It's all warm. I always had a knot there and now... it's gone.
   Léon: Mathilda, I'm glad you don't have a stomach ache any more. I don't think it means anything.
3. What is something that has happened to you that you would consider a miracle?
   my former spouse and I ended our marriage with at least as much, if not more, respect for each other as that with which we'd started it
4. What do you try to stay away from?
   tequila, math & science, the girlfriends of the boys I've liked, heights & big dogs, and meetings
5. What is it too late for?
   love
6. If you could write three newspaper headlines, which would come true, what would they be?
   "Local Blogger and Aspiring Novelist Receives MacArthur Grant"
   "Bacon Proven Healthy"
   "Congress Passes Law Forgoing Own Salaries"
7. When was the last time you apologized to someone?
   today
8. If you to find out now that you would very well known after you die, what do you think it might be for? (Feel free to pick an accomplishment that you have yet to do.)
   I'm sure it'll involve that MacArthur Grant.
9. Are you easily angered or able to handle every situation calmly?
   after roughly three decades of extreme calm, I've become something of a hothead. Earlier this evening I was ready to smack the woman across the hall and her grandchildren for all the noise they were making, but (lucky for them) they were saved by the blaring television coming through the wall from next door.

[from The Cat, who got it here]

something's magnetic here

• Who would you like to show up at your door to say they love you?
  just friends, I think, for now
• Last furry thing you touched?
  Lady Eleanor (relax, she's a dog)
  
• How many drugs have you done in the last three days?
  none—shocker, considering the way I spent the three days prior!
• Do you miss film or does digital work for you?
  I don't "miss" film; there are situations where I prefer it, but most of the time digital photography is perfectly fine
• Favorite age you have been so far?
  Hmm. I'm not particularly wild about any of them as a whole, preferring instead aspects of each. If I had to choose, though: 20, maybe?
• Your worst enemy?
  ...doesn't know it, but she's going to win.
• What is your current desktop picture?
  At home, it's this (full-screen):
  And at work, it's this (centered):
  
• What was the last thing you said that was funny?
  something about Bacōn fragrances (for men and women)
• If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly, what would it be?
  money, please - even if greed didn't play a part, I'm afraid of heights
• What can't you say “no” to?
  besides money? Baby kittens, handwritten notes, good backrubs, grilled ham & cheese sandwiches, and dark-colored tulips...among other things.
• The last song you bought or downloaded?
  "Eat You Alive" by Limp Bizkit. Très chic, eh?
• What time of day were you born?
  noonish
• What’s your favorite number? Why?
  7 or 13, I suppose. Why? I don't know. I could probably come up with an excuse, but it wouldn't be the reason - those have been my favorite numbers for so long that I don't remember what started it all.
• Where did you live in 1987?
  with my parents, in the first house I ever lived in. I was a minor in 1987.
• Are you jealous of anyone?
  
  definitely
• Is anyone jealous of you?
  not of which I am aware, but it wouldn't surprise me over-much
• It's been almost a decade. Where were you when 9/11 happened?
  at work

[from Le Chat, nécessairement, who got it from here; the title quotation is from "Eat You Alive"]

I envy people who drink—at least they know what to blame everything on

    I'm starting to return to regularly-scheduled programming. Yesterday was a total wash; I was completely hungover, on a scale that I haven't reached since two birthdays ago. I'm getting ahead of myself.
    Thursday night I ran into a friend (not literally, though it was close enough) after work near some shopping that we each needed to do. Naturally, we went together, which made it not only more fun but a faster, easier trip. Afterward, she had some time to kill before an appointment, so I suggested that we have a drink at the chain bar & grill nearby. It was one of those especially lovely spur of the moment decisions, where the drinks are good and the conversation and company are even better. The hour went too fast and then we made our separate ways, each having enjoyed the night out a great deal.
    The following evening that same friend and I had made plans to work late together on a project. Midway through the day, we changed the plans (it was way too easy) and decided instead to track down a local tattoo parlor for some consultation and possible permanent modification. Unfortunately, the place did not meet our needs—at all—but we took it in stride and adapted accordingly. Both hungry after a long day (and a long week) of work, we decided on breakfast for dinner. We went to a restaurant that neither of us had tried before. It was a hit. The fact that they serve breakfast all day, combined with the presence of a full bar, meant that they really couldn't lose, but they exceeded expectations in both regards. I had an absolutely ridiculous amount of pancakes, bacon, and rum-and-lemonade, and my companion enjoyed spectacular American fries and...I honestly don't recall what else—maybe crepes? with blueberries on the side?—and bacon, with a vodka/seltzer/cranberry to start and a phenomenal bloody Mary (with 3 olives!) to follow. The America fries and the bloody Mary were truly outstanding, and I would go back just for them. In fact, my stomach is a little rumbly right now....
    Fast-forward to Saturday evening. We (yes, the same friend—it was one of those weekends, I guess!) and I had tracked down a much better venue for tattoo options, made an appointment, and spent a couple of hours under the needle. Part I is done; Part II awaits next weekend, after the initial healing has taken place. Once we were through there, a drink seemed to be in order. Mind you, I'd had a handful of Peanut M&Ms and a couple of crackers "for dinner" before we met up, so any drinks would be had on an empty stomach. We agreed to only stay out for a couple of hours.
    We went to the biker bar across the street from my apartment, where a good (male) friend of my friend's was waiting. He & I have met a couple of times before, but I had apparently failed to make an impression. This time around, I succeeded. (That seems to happen more often than not with friends-of-friends, and sometimes with complete strangers, too, read: Brian from Mad-town and The Animal Brained Attorney. Anyone expecting me to dazzle straight out of the box will be disappointed, but if you're willing to wait for it, it'll knock you on your assssss.) I settled into my usual Bacardi/lemonades, my girl was drinking her vodka/seltzer/cranberry girl drink (a sort of solid Cosmopolitan, if you look at it that way), and the guy was knocking back shots of Jack with beer chasers like they were going out of style. Strangely, we managed to keep up, buying solid rounds from the beginning. At some point, there were a couple of rounds of Hot Apple Pie shots, which are delicious but could also spell my doom. I honestly don't remember many of the finer details of the evening; it is a blur of Very Funny. We talked about gardening, children, karaoke (that was pretty bad), tattoos (of course), scars, food.... And around that time, we all realized that we were Really Hungry, so we settled the bar tab (how did I drink for that long on $25?!?! It's physically impossible.) and set out for the new late-night place. We ordered complete crap; I had mozzarella sticks and a Pepsi, she had a peanut butter (?) shake of some sort, whose whipped cream I licked off the top like a 5-year-old, and a Little Suzie (grilled cheese with tomato & bacon, I think?) and a deep-fried pickle, which was apparently orgasmic; he ordered at least a pizza puff for there and a pizza puff to go. Honestly, I can't remember much from that bit of the evening because I was so drunk and so hungry—and because there was a "drum circle" (actually a guy with a guitar and a guy with bongos) playing at the restaurant. Beyond surreal. I do recall "playing" along with them by whapping the table and occasionally slapping my companions. It was a little wild.
    Once we'd eaten (which in real-time probably took about 10 minutes, max, since we were voracious and completely lacking in social skills), we headed home. Lucky for me, all I had to do was walk, which was feat enough. My last thoughts were to make sure I had brought my keys home (which was pretty stupid since I was already inside 2 doors that required key entry), to turn my phone to zero volume, and to look at the clock. It was 1:34. We'd been at it for ~5 hours.
    I woke up yesterday at the usual time. Got up, poured about half a bowl of Rice Krispies, started eating, and realized that the crunching was vibrating my brain in a bad way, and that putting things in my stomach was a bad plan. I finished the portion I'd poured (waste not, want not) but went no further with food until roughly 8:30 last night, when I was finally well enough to (a) watch television, (b) remain upright for more than a half-hour at a time, and (c) contemplate swallowing anything solid. I made tacos, extra spicy, and ate four of them. They tasted like heaven.
    In all, a very fun weekend...as far as I remember. I haven't drank like that in a while. It was fun to be a part of something beyond the thoughts rambling around inside my brain. I'm glad I don't do it all the time, but it would probably be OK to do it more often than I have lately - even considering the price to be paid.

[title quotation by Oscar Levant]

and where the offence is let the great axe fall

1. Do you believe the death penalty is justified and/or effective? Why or why not?
   Well...it is effective in at least one of its intended purposes, which is to end the life of the person convicted of a crime punishable by death. I'm not trying to be circular and pointless, just to make the argument that there is more than one rationale behind any criminal penalty. (Have I ever mentioned that I am nearly incapable of spelling 'criminal' correctly? It almost always comes out 'criminial', which then makes me giggle, which is ridiculous.)
   So, is it effective? Yep: there will be no more crimes committed by that person, the [literal, financial] cost to society will end, the threat of criminal activity from that person will end with that person's death. Recidivism is, essentially, eliminated.
   Is it effective in a more [I hate this word] "proactive" sense, meaning that others will "take a lesson" from the extreme penalty and avoid criminal activity in the future due to the now-serious threat of death? Hmm. Probably not. The threat was, theoretically, always there—these putative criminals simply chose to ignore it. They'll likely choose to ignore this, too.
   Now, the harder question: is it justified? There certainly is a biblical argument to be made, 'an eye for an eye' and all that jazz. And if one asks victims of violent crime (or their survivors), one is likely to hear (from some, if not most, of them) that lesser punishments, e.g. imprisonments or fines, do not "measure up" to the severity of the crimes committed. There are, however, those who will argue that the real punishment is being alive to be punished, and for a long time. On the other hand (isn't it nice that while theorizing, we have an endless supply of hands?), who pays for this seemingly unending lifetime of punishment for serious offenders? Are we not all victimized, and the actual victims revictimized, by the need to feed and house and care for, in a legally-protected manner, those who have (arguably) the least right to that care?
   Yes. It's justified.
2. Does it sometimes make you paranoid when other people laugh?
   nope - I tend to fly under the radar, so I don't assume it's about me
3. How many birthdays and/or anniversaries of friends and family will be happening this month?
   Scads. Nick was the 6th, my former spouse was the 7th, a FB-only friend's was yesterday, a good friend from Michigan's is tomorrow, my farmer friend's - and the husband of someone I used to know well - is the 25th, a FB-and-then-some friend's is the 26th, and the best cook in the world's is the 29th (she's also a former roommate and a really good friend). No anniversaries, though, that I can think of?
4. Show and Tell. What comes to mind first when you see this picture? Or, tell a story if it reminds you of one.
   [Public Domain Photo]
   
   It reminds me of my old blog friend, Robert. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I haven't seen him for a couple of years, and it will likely be at least as many more before I see him again. I understand that he is "back home" briefly (that's the photo reference - it looks vaguely like the picture in my mind of there from whence he came), and of course I wish him happy in that as in all else.

[Curious as a Cat, week 243; title quotation by William Shakespeare, from Hamlet, Act IV, scene v]

if God dropped acid, would he see people?

    Headache. *owww* I've been grinding my teeth (and trying very hard to remember not to grind my teeth, which accounts for half the stress) since Friday night.
    Rough week so far, which I've said every day so far as I've been leaving work... every day of the two that have gone by. I'm in the odd and unenviable position of being "wooed" by a couple of prospective landlords (and, even more strange, by my own) to get/keep me. Who knew I was such a hot commodity? Or, in this case, a financially stable, fairly neat, quiet commodity?
    Yeah, right. Two out of three ain't bad.
    I'm tired, but I've been having trouble sleeping. Crazy dreams—opium dreams, but for the lack of opium—followed by half-dead mornings of "huh?" I don't know if I've recovered from Saturday's hangover yet. When I woke on Sunday I felt like I'd been kicked in the skull by a hundred rabbits. Very rattled, shaken up, bounced and bruised. And that was before I remembered that there had been rubber ducks floating in the salsa.
    I finally planted my pineapple, after much anticipation and laziness. I may have waited too long, but I'm hoping for the best. We're supposed to get some solid sunshine...eventually...which would be good, to help it take root. If you're the praying kind, and are not offended by such things, please say a word for Patty Ann. (I thought that naming it would boost its/her spirits.)
    Last week I signed up for a retirement account. It's my industry's version of a 401(k), pre-tax deducted. As with all major financial planning, I did a little (i.e. tiny) bit of research, asked no one for advice, and made all specific decisions spur of the moment. Overall, it's an excellent idea that might end up saving my financial ass somewhere down the road. Short-term, I may have just politely requested that I get screwed, starting with my next pay period. Time will tell.
    I need a nap.

[title quotation by Steven Wright]

wanna read a short story I wrote in France?

• So, what did you do today?
  oh, y'know, the usual--work, read, made dinner, went for a drive
• What was the last movie you watched?
  The Darjeeling Limited [the title quotation is from this movie]
  
• What's your favorite type of donut?
  depends on the day. I haven't had a good sour cream donut in a very long time, though - too long. Could've used a couple on Saturday morning.
• What was the last non-alcoholic beverage you consumed?
  water
• What color are your headphones?
  I have a couple pairs that are black and one that are white
• Who is your last text from?
  Ulysses
• How do you make money?
  in the typical fashion - I have a steady job
• What color did you last paint your nails?
  Glacier Bay Blues. Nice Color, Eh? is next in line.
• How many people have you ever had oral sex with?
  one at a time
• What color is your wallet?
  presently in use: black
• Do you currently have feelings for anybody?
  yep
• Do you know any "cougars"?
  I don't think I could possibly hate that term any more than I do right now, but, yeah. I suppose I do.
• What's your favorite TV show?
  meh. The shows that I've liked over the past couple of years have taken a turn this year (adding new characters of whom I am not fond, or killing off characters that 'make the show' for me), so I'm finding myself reading more often than not lately.
• Have you ever been to a concert?
  yes, indeed
• Who was the last person you were in a car with?
  Ulysses
• Are you in love? With who?
  I'm in something. It remains to be seen just what it is. With whom? Heh, isn't that clear by now?
• What's your job title?
  "other duties as assigned"
• Do you shave your armpits?
  sure - just today, in fact
• Do you think that piercings are trashy?
  yeah, particularly my own
• Is the light on in the room you're in?
  yes, one of them (lights, not rooms)
  
• Favorite fruit:
  pineapple, at least for the next few days. I've got a whole one in the fridge.
• Where is the person you dislike the most?
  don't know; don't care
• How about the person you have feelings for?
  home, prehaps?
• Do you prefer glass or plastic cups?
  doesn't matter
• Is your house big or small?
  my cube gets the job done. I'm currently negotiating for a different one, which will (if all goes well) be slightly bigger, have a dishwasher and an attached 1-car garage, and be quieter than a tomb.
• Can you whistle?
  can; don't
• Do you wear bows in your hair?
  rarely
• Has anybody ever been obsessed with you?
  yes

[from here, from there]

at the edge of my affection

If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, "It's beautiful
here by this pond. I wish
somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, "I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond? It seems like
a perfect place for them."

['Your Catfish Friend' by Richard Brautigan]

in the middle of everyone I still find myself with my thoughts alone

1. What do you consider your hometown to be?
   258 miles away—give or take
2. What’s the hardest part of your average day?
   getting out of bed. No question. The second hardest is easy to tell, too: going to bed. It's a little odd; I've always been what my parents would call "a good sleeper" but I've also never been good at doing it according to anyone else's schedule.
3. The easiest? Why?
   reading, I suppose, in any form. Or locating pointless minutia online. If there was a job that entailed nothing but making mix CDs and being quick to search out trivia, that's how I'd make my millions.
4. What beverage do you reach for to quench your thirst?
   water or (fruit-flavored but unsweet) tea
5. What is one not-so-secret goal you have for your life? I’ll let you keep your secret ones to yourself.
   being published
6. What physical pain do you fear most? For example, I’m trying to decide how bad my jaw pain needs to get before I risk a potential needle from my dentist. So, for me, throbbing is preferable to jabbing.
   cutting, I suppose. Maybe shooting. Throbbing is nothing anymore.
7. Where do you find solace?
   in writing, sometimes in reading, in my friends (the things they do and the people they are), and in some rare flashes of true kindness from someone much admired, who may not know it
8. What makes you the saddest when you read/see the news?
   all of it. It's why I never watch or read the news.
9. What do you eat for a favorite snack?
   salty. Chips (thank you, Mumblito, for bringing back JJs for me!), olives, pretzels, crackers. Yum.
10. What movie could you/would you watch more than two or three times and still enjoy just as much as the first time?
    has someone been giving away my secret life? I watch all my favorites over again, fairly regularly, and get something new and good out of them each time. I've probably seen Léon (The Professional) a half dozen times, and Top Secret! maybe twice that. It's not that I don't watch new stuff; I do. But watching those old familiar movies again reinforces what I liked about them originally and probably makes me more receptive to the good things about movies in general.
11. What boy/girl first made you cry?
    my sister, for sure.
    Oh, you mean romantically? Probably Scott—and under the circumstances it really wasn't him so much as it was me, piling heaps of overblown drama and nonsense onto what could have been an easy, carefree, loving teenage romance. He was a doll, I strangled the life out of what we shared, and he was enough of a gentleman to remember only the good parts. Is it any wonder that I recall him with a heroic glow?
12. What brand of coffee/tea do you drink most often?
    Republic of Tea
13. Dig in the dirt with or without garden gloves?
    I don't garden per se, but when I repot plants I usually use rubber gloves. My fingernails are so short that when I get anything under them it can actually hurt (as well as look terrible).
14. James Taylor or Carly Simon?
    James Taylor, for sure. He reminds me of my dad, only with lots more enthusiasm. (My dad's sort of a super mellow James Taylor/Alan Alda mashup.) And I preferred the Carole King duets, too; "You've Got a Friend" is one of my all-time faves. (Her song with Semisonic, "One True Love", is awesome, too. The title quotation is from this.)

[from the standard location, originally from here]

the law is not an end in itself, nor does it provide ends. It is preeminently a means to serve what we think is right.

    Among the many things churning through my brain that I forgot to mention in yesterday's post: an odd dilemma in which I find myself, thanks to a shared confidence from a friend. This is someone that I know really well (intimately, you might say) but also with whom I am not terribly close. He recently told me that a young person in his family has become...active, physically speaking, with an opposite-gender partner (presumably of approximately the same age). My friend and his former spouse are not pleased with this turn of events, but also are not terribly surprised, nor are they overly upset. They have not, to my knowledge, indicated their displeasure in terms like "Do not" or "Not yet". In fact, what they have done is to--in my mind, at least--encourage the child to continue this behavior, by (a) refusing the child's request for easy-to-use birth control, (b) attempting to monitor (obviously second-hand) the child's, er, natural processes, and (c) basically standing back and saying, "Well, it was going to happen sooner or later."

    This kid's not even old enough to have a driver's license. This makes the kid (and likely, though not necessarily, the kid's partner) FAR below the age of consent—which is 17 in the state in which they live—to engage in the activities that the parents are blithely allowing.

    I find that I have a serious problem with this. Yeah, don't get me wrong, I'm not going to try and pretend that I never got away with anything when I was a teen. I'm certainly not going to say that laws that I broke (or still break) should be applied to everyone else but me. But I will say that laws of consent really do exist for a reason. What's the reason?

    Children's brains are not fully formed. If you don't believe me, spend some time with one. Better yet, spend time with a pack of them. It won't take long to realize that their reasoning skills are not up to par with the average adult, which is not saying much. Moody, impulsive, emotional, quick to judgment, irrational...on a good day.

    A statute that sets an age of consent—the age at which a person is considered to have the requisite maturity to make independent decisions regarding sexuality and marriage—is one of the basic child protection laws. Every state in the U.S. has one, as do most other countries. This Wikipedia page will be enlightening for anyone seeking more information on the topic.

    Some opponents of laws like this will argue that each individual matures at a different rate, and so a very mature 16-year-old should not be "punished" by a statute that does not allow him/her to express that maturity in sexual matters. Others will say that the laws are arbitrary, in that the difference between a child of age 16 years and 364 days and a child of age 17 years is absolutely unnoticeable, so the law draws a distinction that does not exist. Another point frequently made is that by accident of location, one can be subject to the harsh law of one state rather than the lenient law of another.

    In response to the first: the alternative to dealing with this problem (that is, truly nonconsensual contact) on a case-by-case basis in which the maturity of the individuals in question would be judged (by whom?) independent of their ages is completely unworkable. Put simply, who would pay for that? And it would be a sad attempt to get the horses back into the barn after the door is opened, or whatever the cliche says; the damage will have been done.

    In response to the second: many laws are arbitrary. Perhaps even most of them. What is the alternative to that? No laws? Or, do the best we can with what we have, and try not to go overboard with the arbitrariness, and rein it in (through the appeals process, for instance, and everybody's favorite rein: subsequent voting for [or against] elected officials who create these laws on our behalf in the first place) as well as possible, and maybe sometimes consider ourselves lucky to live in a place where we have some say in how this all shakes out. It was arbitrary when I was that age, too, after all.

    And in response to the third: if one wishes to be exempt from the laws of the land in which one lives, one has a few choices. One can leave (unless limited from doing so by previous choices); one can stay and "wish"; or one can stay and work to change those laws which are abhorrent. That is, essentially, part of what American democracy is all about. Therefore, if your accident of birth (be it your own choice of where to settle, or simply where the wagon broke down on your ancestors' trek across the land 10 generations ago) left you on the wrong side of the state line, it's still up to you to change it.

    Politics/government/law rant done. Where does it leave me?

    My friend is permitting his child to engage in activities, begun without his prior knowledge or "approval", to which the child is legally incapable of consenting. If the kid and partner are somehow "caught" in this activity (God forbid), one or both of them faces serious criminal charges. The proximity of their ages—and the presumption that neither of them falls into other "worse" categories of offenders—will be considered an affirmative defense, i.e., "Yes, I did it, but there is a reason that I should not be held liable." Still, even if the result isn't prison/jail/fines/registration for life, I can't help but think that it's still wrong.

    And that it's up to the parents, since they know, since it's all (well, clearly not all, but, enough) out in the open, to step up and really do their jobs, to have the hard talk and enforce some hard rules. Because the alternatives that I see are ugly, and sad, and imminently avoidable.

    But it's not up to me, so I'm keeping my mouth shut. Except here.

[title quotation by William Joseph Brennan, Jr.]

the role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say

    Anaïs Nin, I think, had the right idea.
    I've been struggling to write for the last few weeks. Not just here, but anywhere, in any way: email, letters, even basic work requirements. I don't know where it starts, but it's oddly (and sort of hilariously) easy to explain now: I'm blocked because I'm full. There's so much churning around in my brain that I can't get any of it out, like trying to squeeze pudding through a syringe. For the blog, at least, it's as if what I want to write is sitting, fully-formed, in my head, just waiting to be transcribed, much like it felt when I was writing my [M.A.] thesis. Topics include:

• "the situation in Wisconsin" and my personal response
• a brief review/analysis of The Science of Kissing: What Our Lips Are Telling Us, and an explanation (?) of how it relates to Cassette From My Ex: Stories and Soundtracks of Lost Loves and The Animal-Brained Attorney.
• I'm growing a pineapple!
• [photos from trips to Lawrence, Kansas]--should I ever be able to locate such a thing--with accompanying text revealing some of its many hidden treasures
• the car thing
• the dream I had about The Enigmatic Nephew, wrestling slimy sea creatures out of the kitchen drain of the house that we were renting...together...(no, not like that)--sigh.

Instead, I'm closing with someone else's words, in art, saying all that I can't--today.

the eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend

12.

After a poem enters my Hundred, it remains as a rhythmical template that, on occasion, leaps forward to guide me when composing. This sounds alarming to my beginning poetry students, some of whom don’t want to read poetry books to avoid “being influenced” or “losing their style.” In response, I tell them the Chinese proverb: “He who knows a hundred poems sounds like a hundred poems; he who knows a thousand poems sounds like himself.”

The poem we know by heart doesn’t to force us to travel where we don’t want to go. Instead, as we struggle to make headway on a snowy day, we can look down and see boot prints. Stepping inside them speeds our journey.

[Beth Ann Fennelly, from "My Hundred"--American Poetry Review, Vol. 37 No. 5; title quotation by Robertson Davies, in Tempest-Tost]

how poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?

1. What two colors do you think look the best together?
   black and blue - for the most obvious reason
2. For your memoir, describe what you looked like as a teenager.
   
   "she was a dark and stormy night..."
   
   No, really, I was in a lot of ways exactly what I am now only cheaper (make of that what you will), wearing clothes that didn't quite fit into any one style because I had neither the money nor the inclination to be fashionable. Sometimes punk, sometimes prep, sometimes sort of iconoclastically retro (I loved my dad's old oxford shirts and cardigans, and my sleek black loafers fitted out with dimes rather than pennies). I had a couple of trench coats (a dusty cream sort of painter job and a muted green and black plaid that was already a bit torn up when I got it, God knows where). On the mornings when we'd practice halftime shows on the football field, I'd wear these bright red boots that fit over my shoes, so ugly they were cute and perfectly functional to keep my shoes dry and my feet warm. I didn't wear much makeup, though probably more than I do now, and my hair was still its natural color and the bangs were worn long over one eye, an affectation that probably cost me a half-dozen contacts before I chopped it down. And I think I didn't do much for jewelry, maybe hooker-hoop earrings if I was feeling really wild. And a waist chain now and then, which makes me cringe. Does that paint the picture?
3. Do you know anyone born on your half-birthday?
   Only one person, but it could not be more significant. The one person I've loved more than anyone else—and I scorn the idea of "quantities" of love—was born exactly 6 months before I was, for all intents and purposes "on the other side of the world."
4. Show and Tell. What comes to mind first when you see this picture? Or, tell a story if it reminds you of one.
   This photo reminds me of a story that I did write, about someone I used to know very well.
   

   Once upon a time there was a boy named Nick, who grew up to be an adult boy named Nick. He looked like a man but he was really just a boy. He lived in a two-story brick building. A woman came along, saw him looking out his second-floor window, and wanted to get to know him. They talked, and kind of liked each other, and she decided to go into his building and spend more time with him. Only, as she walked around his building, she realized there was no door. The only opening on his building was that one window on the second floor. She hollered up to him, "What's the deal?" He shrugged. So she started climbing, because she's tenacious and he was cute. But he dropped a loose brick on her head.

   So, after icing her sore head, she got a helmet and a ladder, and started climbing again. And he threw another loose brick at her. She stayed away for a while, but was still intrigued by the weird dude in the brick fortress. She kept coming back and trying to visit, but he kept repelling her advances...all the while also kind of wanting to talk with her and hang out, too. Just with the walls between them.
   

   Finally, three years later, she settles herself into her catapult (several miles away), and shoots herself (with scientific precision) at his open window, only to discover, once she arrives, that he's (a) put up some glass in that window, (b) laid out a snare on the floor where she's landed (so she's covered with broken glass, snapped mousetraps, and peanut butter), and (c) he's escaped down his fire pole into the basement and out through the panic hatch.

   The end.

[from the original source; title quotation from Othello by William Shakespeare]