another day in the cities

Well today was one of those good days. The kind I like -- full of different things intersecting and a little surprise. As a preface to the cities/spaces I experienced today was a talk I attended on Thursday presented by the British architect David Adjaye. It was an interesting talk and he raised some provocative points about cultural intersections during a Q and A with Thelma Golden and the other presenters of the "Blacks in Architecture" conference.














(h/t guardian.co.uk)




Cityscapes upon cities...

London: I started off reading a bit about my beloved philosopher J.L. Austin after doing some creative writing yesterday. I came across this wonderful little miniseries from 1990 out of London. I'm probably one of the last literary-type people to have actually seen it: the fabulous 4 part "trilogy" House of Cards starring the great Ian Richardson.




























(J.L. Austin above. h/t philweb.net)


















(Ian Richardson via britishcinemagreats.com)

It was fun going down memory lane (the early 1990s) and seeing such lovely subtle "face work" from Mr. Richardson. Everyone in the series was really great -- and intense! -- in their work. Totally in the moment. I was impressed. Like the other Ian I always mention, it was a fourth-wall breaking performance based on Richard III.

Lagos: I ran off to see the Broadway show Fela! as part a family outing and was blown away. It was magnificent! I saw Kevin Mambo as Fela and he turned it out! I had a chance to see the original great many, many years ago and I have to say, although there were many people on stage in the play, it was a fraction of the amout of people I rememeber seeing in Fela's actual show! The actors (at the Eugene O'Neil Theatre) took it to the hoop! Bill T and his collaborators wore it out! Dealt with the politics, Afrocentricity, the astounding music and dance, the spirituality, everything. I refused to read any reviews before seeing it -- and don't rely on them anyway. I recently saw a play with my good friend Sarah and we really didn't care for it. The mainstream reviews gave it a *rave*. Different strokes.



(Fela to the left. h/t africantheaterusa.com)
























(Kevin Mambo h/t wemakemoves.com)

I recently told a poetry colleague of mine that I like stuff that's really old and I like stuff that's really new, not as much stuff that's in the middle. (Early onset of curmudgeon, I suspect). I guess I like Mr. Richardson and Fela because they are *re* - newels of something(s) old. Of course, we're talking apples and oranges here in other respects...but one could argue that both presentations are critiques about corruptive residues of the British Empire, so there's that.

New York: When we were leaving the theater and getting into the train station, we ran into the great actor Tony Shalhoub (confirmed dork, I have seen *all* the eoisodes of "Monk" just to watch him work out as an actor) and his lovely wife, the wonderful actor Brooke Adams. Truth be told, I did not recognize her because she looks so much younger than she does on film. Tony Shalhoub looks better in real life, too. (I'm not saying they looked the opposite, of course, it's just that with all the lighting and makeup you'd think film would do them justice but it doesn't). I love New York: you just never know who you'll run into -- and to a large extent nobody cares. That's why famous people like to live here, too.
























(via imdb/golden globes)

I hope seeeing Mr. Shalhoub in the streets of the city means he's going to be staying back on stage where he belongs. I mean, I like TV and film but if you've got the chops for the stage, whole other level.



Hmmm. I guess it's worthwhile going to Manhattan occassionally. Nice place to visit...

















(h/t wired.com)

Tracie

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry (excerpt)
by Walt Whitman
1
Flood-tide below me! I watch you face to face;
Clouds of the west! sun there half an hour high! I see you also face to face.

Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes! how curious you
are to me!
On the ferry-boats, the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning home,
are more curious to me than you suppose;
And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence, are more to me,
and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.

2
The impalpable sustenance of me from all things, at all hours of the day;
The simple, compact, well-join'd scheme—myself disintegrated,
every one disintegrated, yet part of the scheme:
The similitudes of the past, and those of the future;
The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings—
on the walk in the street, and the passage over the river;
The current rushing so swiftly, and swimming with me far away;
The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them;
The certainty of others—the life, love, sight, hearing of others.

Others will enter the gates of the ferry, and cross from shore to shore;
Others will watch the run of the flood-tide;
Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights
of Brooklyn to the south and east;
Others will see the islands large and small;
Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half an
hour high;
A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will
see them,
Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring in of the flood-tide, the falling back
to the sea of the ebb-tide.

3
It avails not, neither time or place—distance avails not;
I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so
many generations hence;
I project myself—also I return—I am with you, and know how
it is.

Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt;
Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd;
Just as you are refresh'd by the gladness of the river and the bright flow,
I was refresh'd;
Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current,
I stood, yet was hurried;
Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships, and the thick-stem'd
pipes of steamboats, I look'd.



PS! Thanks for all the well-wishes re: the Brooklyn Poet Laureate position. I was one of the three finalists. It was super, duper cool to be considered and share a bit of the limelight with Jess Greenbaum and our borough's new poetic representation, Tina Chang!

Week of Contrasts

(h/t mlkjrfoundationpgc.org)

Last week had to go down as one of the most striking weeks I've seen. It started off with an acknowledgement of MLK Jr.'s legacy and bringing the country together. The next day we saw another country ripped apart before our disbelieving eyes.



The relationship is not that far apart. Haiti's human rights victory in 1804 had a direct affect on the anti-slavery movement in the United States and around the world. One silver lining in that rubble-constructed cloud is that some information about the pivotal role that Haiti has played in world history (and the way it's been punished for it's freedom ever since) is being uttered frankly in American main stream circles. Unless you were well educated in the history of people who have been historically marginalized, you may not have been aware of how important Haiti has been to the world. The Haitian Ambassador to the US, Raymond Joseph, and writer Edwidge Dandicat have spoken movingly and clearly about this topic as well as the disaster. It is terrible that it took such a catastrophe for many of us to know more about our neighbor. I hope these important historical points don't get swept away by, what is oftentimes the deluge of catastrophic images that replace actual news and context.

Another unexpected event, that isn't a disaster but could affect many, many lives here and around the world, is the declaration of Scott Brown as Senator-elect in Massachusetts. His place in the Senate might very well determine whether or not healthcare gets passed. As Alan Grayson, the rabble-rousing congressman from Florida has explained, over 45,000 people die every year for lack of healthcare in the US. Since Brown's in a blue state, we'll have to see how he works with his colleagues but this is really going to be a challenge to move the agenda for the progressives among us -- or anyone who wants better healthcare irrespective of political opinion on how it gets done. Brown's vote may determine if anything gets done at all.

(h/t 50states.com)

As the week progressed it continued to get weird: the Supreme Court ruling that legal constructs are people too (and can talk!) was bizarre and distressing for democracy. I hope the legislative bodies move swiftly and quickly to ameliorate the court's decision.


(h/t choices campus blog)

Then Air America went down the tubes. I'm not surprised by this -- at all -- having listened to the network at its inception. They had great programming and the management just kept messing it up until they ruined the franchise. The one good thing that emerged from that self-sabotaging scenario was some of the talent it brought to the fore (who had enough sense to jump ship and/or supplement their distribution outside of Air America). Some of the notables I became familiar with because of the network (not the ones I knew of before its inception) include: the super smart Sam Seder, Marc Maron and the exemplary Morning Sedition show, Rachel Maddow, the Ring of Fire broadcasters. In fact, the attention that Air America drew to progressive affiliates gave me exposure to: Nancy Skinner, the Young Turks, and the very funny Stephanie Miller show. Needless to say, I don't agree w/ everyone 200% and they would certainly say the same thing about my musings but it's so great to have a few determined voices out there in commercial radio to counter the bombardment of intolerant, extreme right wing voices that are all over the AM dial. The cool thing is, I find most of the broadcasters that I hear to be pretty good comedians too and a little levity helps during tumultuous change.


(h/t airamerica.com)

As a side note, the Coco/Leno debacle did grab a moment of my interest too, truth be told. Not that I'm crying for any of those multimillionaires but I do recall Conan O'Brien's show when it first started and found him funny -- and very tall. The controversy between he, Leno and Letterman, from the little I know, was intense and ascerbic and funny at times. I guess I paid a bit of attention to it because *relatively speaking* the little guy (a.k.a. O'Brien) seemed to be cheated out of his chance. He's also closer to my age-peer so that probably has something to do with it, too. Having been at the very, very edge of the margin of entertainment culture, I have a sense of that world (just a bit) so I have a little corner of empathy. Not that he needs *my* support, for goodness sake.


(h/t Us Magazine.com)

I certainly *got* my share of support this week though. I finally dragged myself out of the house to have dinner w/ some friends (despite my hermit tendencies) and also saw one of those once in a lifetime events: a collaboration between the late, extraordinary Max Roach's percussion group and the World Saxophone Quartet. They haven't played together in a few decades. I ran into folks I haven't seen in dogs' years! I'll say more about that in my next post, I think. It's been quite a week to process and I need some room in my head first to give that performance some space on my little blog.



(h/t globaljazznetwork.com)


Hang in there peeps,
Tracie

HNY 2010

Dag. What a big number! 2010!

Well, not quite as futuristic as the movie 2001 and the (underrated) tv show Space 1999 projected. (Remember that show? With the wonderful -- and formally married --acting pair Martin Landau and Barbara Bain?)












(from Space 1999 wikipedia entry)

I don't know about you all but this year feels different for me. Last year was a little "dramatic" toward the end so I figure this one will "come in like a lamb" to borrow from the expression. I love the New Year and we get to commemorate the Lunar New Year in about a month -- going from Ox to Tiger.

So I felt the itch to starting writing for January (and usually feel compelled to write) because I love my life and the riches of the world. (Saccarine, much?) Really though! Life's just amazing. I'm a (notorious) Gemini, as everyone who knows me knows and we twin folks are famous for loving contrasts, especially when it comes to communication. (Hey, star-gazing is entertaining! The poet Sekou Sundiata used to say he'd look at the daily astrological forecasts and whichever he liked the best, that's the one he'd believe. I go for that system!)

Over the years that I've written for this lil blog, I usually demonstrate my affection for contrasts. I love so many things and when they crash into each other in my comings and goings, I feel so happy! The world is amazing, funny, sad, infuriating and wonderful.

Even in New York in January. Cold, filthy and did I mention cold?








(from wcbs880.com website. Yeah, go already.)

Started off the year with some fun: The New Year's Reading at St. Mark's. I dragged Elliott Sharp into my scheme (like Lucy did poor Ricky) and we enjoyed ourselves. We did a cover! Sorry you had to be there...I've performed w/ Elliott a bunch so it wasn't horrible and surprisingly stress-free. I like going to the Project and trying out new stuff on New Year's. Keeps me on my toes!















(via panix.com)

Now that the year is really, really here, I found other pleasures before classes start: I was geeking out to hours and hours of a wonderful podcast called "Philosophy Bites" out of London (philosophybites.com). It's all about European philosophical traditions/ethical questions/notable theorists. As an adoring fan of J.L. Austin and a newcomer to this world (I didn't seriously start exploring philosophy until my last go-round in grad school except for the required basics for my PoliSci undergrad degree). it's nice to get the overview/review. (Descartes, It's been ages! Rousseau, what's up? Isaiah Berlin! Derrida, you codger!)

What I'm interested in contributing to the field, I hope, is a consideration of the ways that non-Eurocentric (and the implicit cultural baggage of top-dog status) can inform and be informed by seemingly oppositional cultural/political philosophical viewpoints. In other words, how can we converse with the goal of everybody learning something. Know why? Because we're all influenced by each other (sometimes for better, sometimes not). I like to look at the surprising ways in which ideas are linked. I guess John Berger's "Ways of Seeing" got to me as a kid when the show was re-run on PBS for a while...










(via Ways of Seeing wikipedia page)

I like Philosophy Bites (and its sibling "Ethics Bites") because it has a great deal of affection for "the western" half of the equation. I like going over this stuff! (To be fair, they did have a podcast on Eastern -- i.e. Indian -- philosophy w/ Keith Ward but that was out of 111 episodes. That's their thing and it's cool. They're upfront w/ the perspective). Of course I'm not making a point about the backgrounds of the commentators but the subject matter being discussed. As y'all know, I like Shakespeare plays so it's not my first time at this western (love-fest) rodeo! (corny pun. get it?)









(c/o nigelwarburton.typepad.com)

Now if doing cover tunes in an experimental way and listening to Classical Philosophy isn't enough of a contrast, I've got another one for ya: A friend of mine started circulating some clips of the great Paul Mooney opining, acerbically and hilariously, on Pres. Obama, Tiger Woods, Richard Pryor, etc. O.M.G. Mr. Mooney is always deep! I had the pleasure of interviewing him many, many years ago when I was doing some freelance writing for the Amsterdam News and I also have to say that in person, he is one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen. What comes out of his mouth is really caustic! But: gorgeous skin, cheekbones somewhere around his temples, just beautific. I think he looks good bald, too. Even in his late 60s, he's stunning. I mention this because it's one of the things that really stands out about him and one that's not discussed that much. (There are plenty of other things to talk about!) I'm also reminded that he could have easily gone the Hollywood way. He's tall enough, too (even though most famous actors are pretty short.). I'm sure he coulda gotten "the gig" and played the docile, adorable "Black Guy" (either leading role or buddy) but he decided to walk the road less traveled -- and will not change! He's an old-school, thugged out in-your-face bro who's still justifiably angry!




















(via STLToday -- St. Louis Today)

Now, before you finish the thought of "But do you agree when he said_________" -- Fill in the blank with anything! I don't think it's a matter of agreeing with him or not. Paul Mooney does two things and he does them quite well: He forces people to confront their racial assumptions and he makes jokes. Those two things are what his comments are in service to. It's like asking if Andy Kaufman really thought he was doing justice to his rendition of the Mighty Mouse cartoon theme song on Saturday Night Live: that's not the point. I'm equivocating a bit because I do think that Paul Mooney means what he says but what he does, in fact, mean by what he is saying is predicated on the two goals I mentioned. He was a nice person to interview, too. A real family guy and very loyal to his friends (which includes quite an array of now-famous celebrities because of his help). He had a bit of an edge but he seemed to be a very caring person to me -- except when it comes to the feelings of his audience: then it's no holds barred. I find that I consistently say whenever I hear a Mooney clip that famous Black accolade for shock: "That's messed up!"

Wrapping up the last ten days, I finished the first drafts of some articles/commentaries I have coming out this year and a few were recently published. The ones that have hit or are hitting the stands are in the current issue of boundary 2 (fall, 2009) and the upcoming Eco-Reader that Brenda Ijima is editing. When the other two are out, I'll let you know. I'm fixing them up over the next week or so as well as writing a blurb for a very prestigious person (that is more intimidating than writing an article) that'll also be out this spring. Trying to get some work done. What I find most challenging about writing articles is finding the balance between what's an interesting way for me to write and sharing my info. with the reader. I'm generally asked to write about poetics and in a sea of "conventional" articles, it is always more interesting for me to write from another tonal perspective and hopefully an engaging, challenging one.



(from boundary2.dukejournals.org)









Speaking of which, the meta-themes ideas inspired by my perusal of Philosophy Bites (and my PoliSci reminiscing) made me return to an older article I skimmed but only recently really read: economist Paul Krugman's lovely and clear commentary on the debate between economic schools, the "saltwater" versus "freshwater" analyses in his NYT article from last September "How Did Economists Get it So Wrong?" I liked it not only because I sympathize (I'm on the left side of the divide surprise, surprise) but because he alluded to a notion that's regularly brought up in Humanities circles and that is the need to "scientist-ize" (not a real word!) everything. What I mean is that sometimes I think we over-privilege scientific thought above creative thinking to "prove" we're serious. The artistic/intuitive element of any cultural discourse is central to the way we understand how the world works just as much as the rationalist side (no, I'm not advocating that we start using astrology for analyzing everything!). Krugman doesn't make this point but I do think of it when he says: "As I see it, the economics profession went astray because economists, as a group, mistook beauty, clad in impressive-looking mathematics, for truth." Toward the end of the article he states: "When it comes to the all-too-human problem of recessions and depressions, economists need to abandon the neat but wrong solution of assuming that everyone is rational and markets work perfectly." The "all-too-human" and abandoning "the neat but wrong solution of assuming that everyone is rational" is what the arts, performance and humanities explore all the time. While I'm not suggesting that Paul Krugman be replaced with Eric Bogosian (same birth year), it might not hurt to hear what Bogosian has to say about the microeconomics of art. And I'm sure Mr. Mooney (same first name) has a thing or two to say about the housing bubble...











(from paulkrugman.com)

Didn't know you'd start 2010 at Nerd Central, did ya?


(via blacknerdsnetwork.blogspot.com. Never encountered the website before but hands-down the coolest image evah!)
:-)


Tracie

Essay on Man, Epistle II
by Alexander Pope (excerpt)

I. Know, then, thyself, presume not God to scan;
The proper study of mankind is man.
Placed on this isthmus of a middle state,
A being darkly wise, and rudely great:
With too much knowledge for the sceptic side,
With too much weakness for the stoic’s pride,
He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest;
In doubt to deem himself a god, or beast;
In doubt his mind or body to prefer;
Born but to die, and reasoning but to err;
Alike in ignorance, his reason such,
Whether he thinks too little, or too much:
Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;
Still by himself abused, or disabused;
Created half to rise, and half to fall;
Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled:
The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!
Go, wondrous creature! mount where science guides,
Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides;
Instruct the planets in what orbs to run,
Correct old time, and regulate the sun;
Go, soar with Plato to th’ empyreal sphere,
To the first good, first perfect, and first fair;
Or tread the mazy round his followers trod,
And quitting sense call imitating God;
As Eastern priests in giddy circles run,
And turn their heads to imitate the sun.
Go, teach Eternal Wisdom how to rule—
Then drop into thyself, and be a fool!
Superior beings, when of late they saw
A mortal man unfold all Nature’s law,
Admired such wisdom in an earthly shape
And showed a Newton as we show an ape.
Could he, whose rules the rapid comet bind,
Describe or fix one movement of his mind?
Who saw its fires here rise, and there descend,
Explain his own beginning, or his end?
Alas, what wonder! man’s superior part
Unchecked may rise, and climb from art to art;
But when his own great work is but begun,
What reason weaves, by passion is undone.
Trace Science, then, with Modesty thy guide;
First strip off all her equipage of pride;
Deduct what is but vanity or dress,
Or learning’s luxury, or idleness;
Or tricks to show the stretch of human brain,
Mere curious pleasure, or ingenious pain;
Expunge the whole, or lop th’ excrescent parts
Of all our vices have created arts;
Then see how little the remaining sum,
Which served the past, and must the times to come!


(from poets.org)

turning year...

(via Flickr)

Well Happy Holidays.

What an autumn, what a fall. (That word fall was too appropos from September on this year) . I swear Murphy's Law was all in 2009. (And sadly, that goes for Brittany Murphy too. How sad that such a young person has died.But passings are sad irrespective of age...) Over the last couple months I've had two family passings several computer crashings and well, let's just cut the list short there. Looking forward to winter being here for real. No puns for that season.

I guess I could segue into "Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer..." etc. but today was neither season just a peaceful day. We got our first proper snow in NY yesterday as some foreshadowing. If it had to snow, it really couldn't have been more convenient: we had enough lead time to get the remaining shopping done and it didn't really hit until the late afternoon. It's quiet (for Brooklyn anyway) and kinda nice. The snow will stay white for at least the end of the day. Tomorrow's rush hour is a whole other story...

I was sitting here on the penultimate Sunday of 2009 thinking about the year and stumbled upon something in my iTunes folder. (I don't know about you, but I haven't listened to everything I've downloaded or transferred.) I finally heard, in its entirety, the beautiful anthology "The Long Road to Freedom: An Anthology of Black Music".


(via barnesandnoble.com)


This project was embarked upon by the great Harry Belafonte in the 1950s but didn't come to fruition until this (rapidly ending) decade.


















(via img.photobucket.com)

Although he didn't put his name on the tracks or the cover, his sound is so singular, it's impossible not to know it's him coordinating things. He also included the phenomenal Gloria Lynne and the great Joe Williams among other luminaries in this 6 CD set. It's so arresting, beautiful and understatedly heart-breaking. The sense of optimism in the songs allude to the horrors of slavery and Jim Crow.

Confluently enough, I just put in the first two words "Long Road" into iTunes to play the discs through, and at the very end of the 4+ hours of music, Robert Creeley's poem "The Long Road" played. It was such an unusual, yet completely appropriate close to hearing the anthology, that I had to pause. Not to be to self-reflective but I have to say that I felt a strong sense of being part of a long (and very winding) road: from African praise songs, to slavery songs, to the Blues and the Fisk Jubilee Singers along side Robert Creeley (but certainly not as a peer). What an interesting terrain this poetic landscape is.






(via writing.upenn.edu)

I guess going to two funerals kind of close together also made me think of "The Idea of Ancestry" to quote the great Etheridge Knight. Poetry makes me feel solitary often but not alone usually...

Got back to Chi town again and snuck a peek at the Chicago Shakespeare Theaterl's Richard III. This was the first time that it really got into my head/heart how hard it is for actors to work in and at their parts. I do appreciate people getting up there. I also really do like how thoroughly the cast knows what every word means and why it's there. American actors aren't always socialized that way and I appreciate when folks on this side of the world are focused on that.




(via theatreinchicago.com)



Speaking of bardic stuff, Ian McKellen is reprising his role in Waiting for Godot so if you're in London, go see. (I am not putting yet another picture of IM up.) He's breath-taking. Alas, his colleague in the previous incarnation, Patrick Stewart, won't be there but McKellen is worth the ticket, he's a Gemini so go see him. I'm looking out for my peeps!

(Because of this silly rule, I'll also be buying Clint Eastwood's new biography that I saw in the store. But that's as close to repubby as I'm gonna recommend. You can leave the Giuliani book in the remainder bin.)












(via MERIE W. WALLACE/AFP/Getty Images)

This weird rule is an excuse to make myself read books I don't usually "have time for" or normally wouldn't peruse. I read Katherine Graham's autobiography (late publisher of the Washington Post), (Sir) Christopher Lee's later autobiography "Lord of Misrule" and Rupert Everett's autobiography because of this pretext. His name for the book, "Staged Beauty" also encouraged me to see the film by that title and I literally wept at the end. I love good films about acting so that was that: one degree of separation between arbitrary sun sign-ness and tears. I read other people's work too, obviously, but not often enough "for fun" as it were. Nodding toward Clint, I also love CE's work with actors and finally have "an in" with the reading of this bio. It's strictly how he works with actors, irrespective of the story. (My mother is still mystified that I know, and enjoy, Eastwood more as a director than an actor. Generational thing. And my Mom's a Sagittarius: I read Kenneth Branaugh's autobiography to understand "her people". (Okay, that's not really the reason.) I do not, however, need encouragement to read archers Jeffrey Wright and Don Cheadle's though, so put out autobiographies guys!)

Well, performance talk always perks me up which is good. I was getting too somber and introspective after humbling myself the work of Mr. Belafonte and the subject matter he works with. Here's to looking forward with clear eyes and good inspiration.








I wish all my family, friends and students (past and present) happy new year and congrats for making it through another one. Lots and lots of people with many advantages did not. It has been a very intense year for everyone including our planet as the climate change talks in Copenhagen, concluded last week, indicate.





(via beta.thehindu.com)



See you in the '10s,
Tracie


The Idea of Ancestry
by Etheridge Knight
(via Poets.org)

1

Taped to the wall of my cell are 47 pictures: 47 black
faces: my father, mother, grandmothers (1 dead), grand-
fathers (both dead), brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts,
cousins (1st and 2nd), nieces, and nephews. They stare
across the space at me sprawling on my bunk. I know
their dark eyes, they know mine. I know their style,
they know mine. I am all of them, they are all of me;
they are farmers, I am a thief, I am me, they are thee.

I have at one time or another been in love with my mother,
1 grandmother, 2 sisters, 2 aunts (1 went to the asylum),
and 5 cousins. I am now in love with a 7-yr-old niece
(she sends me letters in large block print, and
her picture is the only one that smiles at me).

I have the same name as 1 grandfather, 3 cousins, 3 nephews,
and 1 uncle. The uncle disappeared when he was 15, just took
off and caught a freight (they say). He's discussed each year
when the family has a reunion, he causes uneasiness in
the clan, he is an empty space. My father's mother, who is 93
and who keeps the Family Bible with everbody's birth dates
(and death dates) in it, always mentions him. There is no
place in her Bible for "whereabouts unknown."

2

Each fall the graves of my grandfathers call me, the brown
hills and red gullies of mississippi send out their electric
messages, galvanizing my genes. Last yr/like a salmon quitting
the cold ocean-leaping and bucking up his birth stream/I
hitchhiked my way from LA with 16 caps in my pocket and a
monkey on my back. And I almost kicked it with the kinfolks.
I walked barefooted in my grandmother's backyard/I smelled the
old
land and the woods/I sipped cornwhiskey from fruit jars with the
men/
I flirted with the women/I had a ball till the caps ran out
and my habit came down. That night I looked at my grandmother
and split/my guts were screaming for junk/but I was almost
contented/I had almost caught up with me.
(The next day in Memphis I cracked a croaker's crib for a fix.)

This yr there is a gray stone wall damming my stream, and when
the falling leaves stir my genes, I pace my cell or flop on my bunk
and stare at 47 black faces across the space. I am all of them,
they are all of me, I am me, they are thee, and I have no children
to float in the space between.


Big qualifier here: I don't have this poem in print. This is how I heard it though after hearing "The Long Road to Freedom". Take this as a typographical interpretation of Creeley. Despite my flaws, his beauty comes through and again, is a wonderful coda, this time after Etheridge.


The Long Road
by Robert Creeley (as I heard it)

The Long Road: The Long Road of it all
is an echo, a sound like an image expanding
frames growing one after one in ascending or
descending order. All of us arising, falling
thought and explosion of emptiness soon forgotten.

As a kid I wondered, where do they go
My father dead the place had a faded dustiness
despite the woods and all. We all grew up.
I see our faces in old school pictures.
Where are we now?

Happy Autumn!

Well, yours truly had one heck of a summer. Back in London with my nose to the grindstone and turning a new corner as is my wont.














(h/t thisislondon.co.uk)






I was, to steal from the Beatles, "workin' like a dog" and didn't get to see my UK friends I'm ashamed to say. Busy bee. I only had a minute to have a little fun one sunday and see the amazing Waiting for Godot directed by Sean Mattias with Patrick Stewart (got an autograph!) and Ian McKellan (omg!). It was a great, great show. And Beckett's writing...that left me happy in and of itself. The performances were like the icing and cherry on top of a delectable cake! (and I win the award for corniest simile in a blog!) Yeah, a bit gushy but it was really wonderful.






(h/t mckellen.com)



Despite my long-standing disdain for the weather and the food, I've fallen in love with the city this time and the weather was better than NY's June July and August so the natives here tell me. I also have to say, pubs rock. Totally different from the bar scene in the US irrespective of locale -- okay I'm not a drinker but I can still tell!



(h/t bridgew.edu -- Bridgewater State College website)




~~~~~~~~


Home again, school's back in and my students are lovely. Feel like I'm finally settling into the semester. I enjoyed London as I said, when I got off the plane... realized how much I missed Brooklyn's habits and inhabitants.









(h/t dumbonyc.com)




My hometown was in full force during the Brooklyn Book Festival. What a huge event! The annual Brooklyn Festival ("BoBi") award winner this year is Edwidge Danticat -- now MacAuthur genius -- Edwidge Dandicat, who was there with her family. I recall using excerpts from Breath, Eyes, Memory for a class years ago and the students were quite moved by it. Couldn't happen to a lovelier writer. She lived in Brooklyn for a while, too. This borough is a lucky charm, in my humble opinion.



(h/t New York Timeout.com)










(h/t Brooklyn Book Festival official Facebook site)


I was on a panel at the festival with a great group, very eclectic: rapper Lupe Fiasco, a very smart cookie, rebellious writer Matthew Zapruder, the well-read, sharp, and yes, really tall Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth and little, much shorter me. Rob Casper from Poetry Society of America kicked off the conversation which was then moderated by culture maven Toure. It was super fun and the audience was really excellent. Very nice mix of folks from hoity-toity poetry types to slam kids to celebrity admirers and journalists. I was impressed by them.

Also stopped by the gathering for a great new anthology called Poetry and Cultural Studies: A Reader edited by Maria Damon and Ira Livingston. it's a wonderful, helpful book that'll really contributes to both fields of Cultural Studies and Poetics.



(h/t flipkart.com)






Hmmm...what else? Miscellany: My mother made me watch (by buying me the first two seasons on DVD) Mad Men, so now I've joined the rest of humanity. It's a well-crafted show. Nice to see something besides reality tv on basic cable.


















(h/t biggest mirror blog)


Got a couple articles coming out in various publications soon and being a horrible publicist of my own work, will try to let y'all know about them. Writing, gigging and stuff. Now that I'm back back, as we say, I'll be checking in more regularly. See you 'round this web.

xo,
Tracie


How like a winter hath my absence been (Sonnet 97)
by William Shakespeare

How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December’s bareness every where!
And yet this time remov’d was summer’s time;
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widow’d wombs after their lords’ decease:
Yet this abundant issue seem’d to me
But hope of orphans and unfather’d fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And, thou away, the very birds are mute:
Or, if they sing, ’tis with so dull a cheer,
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s near.


(h/t poets.org)

summer blog break...

(quick note post I been meaning to send. no pix so I can get it out of my draft box but I'll make up for it in the subsequent post!)

Away doin' some more learnin' this summer. Does it ever end? Nope. Not if, like me, you know there is more you need to learn... in merry old England where my (philosophical) beloved, JL Austin rests in peace, icons RADA, the Globe, the West End, Southbank... all that stuff reside. I think, with the exception of the newly expanded London City, I've used all of the airports around London. (Heathrow's the worst.)

While at the library I went to see the Henry VIII exhibit at the British Library (too much of The Tudors tv show, probably -- I swear I have had enough of that man and *his* drama).

Know what sight actually choked me up though? Seriously? Seeing a copy of the Magna Carta. That joint was deep! Also at the British Library. It was also really nice to see the Shakespeare stuff. Luckily for me, it was my second time seeing a Gutenberg Bible. (Yale's Beinecke Library has one in glorious display) so I can say I've seen that on two continents, but that Magna Carta -- really was something. Not much of it is relevant today since it focused on concretizing aspects of feudal law but this is the part that really stands out:

No free man shall be seized or imprisoned, or stripped of his rights or possessions, or outlawed or exiled . nor will we proceed with force against him . except by the lawful judgement of his equals or by the law of the land. To no one will we sell, to no one deny or delay right or justice.

(excerpt from the highlighted portion presented at the British Library)

For a while, we got so close to this being rescinded by the capricious will of a dubious leader. I know we're supposed to be all "let bygones be bygones" now that we have a new President but when I saw that copy it reminded me of how dangerously close to the-end-of-everything we got.

Now I *know* that this touching Magna Carta-type deal isn't quite as concrete for some of us as it is for others. I know that. But for all human rights efforts one of our greatest weapons have been the *inconsistentcy* between law and practice. If the laws on the books are insane (and so many of them remain -- developed throughout the past eight years or earlier -- and must be rescinded immediately) it's really hard to appeal to the equal rights based on the contradictions between law and practice.

coda: I mean, y'all see how crazy folks are acting just bringing out the KKK in hicksville. Fortunately, that Chicago hawk makes tough hides on the residents. As they say "God willin' and the creek don't rise", the Prez will get it goin' and struggling folks'll have some healthcare and other inalienable rights.

catch as catch can..

Whew! Just made the end of the month for a bloggie note.

Hanging out with buddies before traipsing around this summer. Running a bit and saw a few good things. I even have pix I (mostly) took myself. That's not necessarily a good thing as I'm not a photographer, but oh well. (The photos w/o attribution are ones I took.)

Put my hard hat on and hung out at another poetry house -- not in Philly this time -- the soon-to-be-new-home of New York's Poets' House. It's really impressive and I even have a few pix of Executive Director Lee Bricetti with her construction chapeau:



As you can see, she's very involved in the project!



After we saw that amazing space, one of my good friends and I stopped by another one: the beautiful, intense and word-centric art piece, the Irish Hunger Memorial. it's really something. I urge you to see it, and read through it. The memorial not only references famine that killed thousands in Ireland but the nature of people, places, governments to allow people to starve all over the world. it's in a great conversation with the new Poets' House home as it conveys how powerfully words reverberate. A real masterpiece -- and free to visit, roam around and touch. The pix below really don't do it justice but are more of a teaser:






It was a Manhattany day. We ended up in the West Village and walked right past this living monument:




With all this DOMA (that's Defense of Marriage Act for you non-wonky folks) dueling banjos ads going around, walking past or at least actually noticing the Stonewall Inn for the first time reminds me of how recent all this discourse is. Personally, I think New York attitude will win out over NY conservatism (esp. upstate) and we'll have same-sex marriage here. Yes, there are conservatives in the state but I suspect that no one here sees them being trumped by Iowa on anything that's not agrarian (and even on that level, we've got lots of farms outside of the 5 boroughs). When I saw the movie Milk (yes, Penn shoulda won that Oscar) it just reminded me of the historic era we're in. I mean, I remember those clothes! (Yes, I was young but I do remember them, I even wore the tike versions.)

Speaking of great, touching, morally-relevant films, I *just* saw the super excellent "Up" movie by Pixar. (Those of you who know I'm a goofy Harry Potter fan will not be surprised that I went to see an animated picture.) It was so good! Super touching, lots of great lessons/reminders for kids and adults and expertly done. Pixar is not joking! I've enjoyed every single one of their films that I've seen. Very moving and lovely economy of language. I even shed a tear or two. I'm no Roger Ebert (even though he is a Gemini and carries the sign well) so I won't presume a fancy review but go see. And it was great to hear Ed Asner! Talk about the 70s...I remember him from the Lou Grant days and he's an excellent actor and unapologetic lefty. Dude is mad old school. It's funny: he does look like the character in UP (without glasses) at this point in his life:




(h/t http://www.wallpaperez.net and http://www.eldercarerights.org/)

I realize I'm not only talking about the 1970s but, folks in *their* 70s. Asner graduating the 7th decade and will actually be hitting 80 this year. May I live so long as they say (and as vigorously)...

xo,
Tracie


Lines on Retirement, after Reading Lear
by David Wright

for Richard Pacholski

Avoid storms. And retirement parties.
You can’t trust the sweetnesses your friends will
offer, when they really want your office,
which they’ll redecorate. Beware the still
untested pension plan. Keep your keys. Ask
for more troops than you think you’ll need. Listen
more to fools and less to colleagues. Love your
youngest child the most, regardless. Back to
storms: dress warm, take a friend, don’t eat the grass,
don’t stand near tall trees, and keep the yelling
down—the winds won’t listen, and no one will
see you in the dark. It’s too hard to hear
you over all the thunder. But you’re not
Lear, except that we can’t stop you from what
you’ve planned to do. In the end, no one leaves
the stage in character—we never see
the feather, the mirror held to our lips.
So don’t wait for skies to crack with sun. Feel
the storm’s sweet sting invade you to the skin,
the strange, sore comforts of the wind. Embrace
your children’s ragged praise and that of friends.
Go ahead, take it off, take it all off.
Run naked into tempests. Weave flowers
into your hair. Bellow at cataracts.
If you dare, scream at the gods. Babble as
if you thought words could save. Drink rain like cold
beer. So much better than making theories.
We’d all come with you, laughing, if we could.

(h/t poets.org)

Dag, the month is flying!

(h/t stuffingtown.com)

Well looks like it took almost up to Memorial Day for Spring to spring up before summer. Nice weather in NYC. I'm sad that more than a few students had terrible convocation weather. Ah well. The main thing is that it's done. I got to hang out at a few fun student events at Pratt Institute and UPenn.




(h/t www.treehugger.com)

Apparently, no Memorial Day weekend is complete without a Barbecue (with a capital B) and I had the occasion to get to one this weekend. Fun, groovy with folks I haven't seen for years. Slowly emerging from my underground thing after years of school and writing. Trying to get the band out there, too. Time to get movin'...

Heading out to the cooler and less delectable climes as I do every summer -- and spring is finally hitting the city! There was a little article in the NYT about people taking 'staycations' and even though I won't be one of the stayers, the comments other people made invoked some nostalgia: I remember when my brother turned some young teen year, he came up with the good idea of taking a tour of the city. Because we were little, we got into quite a few things for free(the Toussaut's Wax Museum was in the Empire State Building) because folks thought we were somebody's kids!




(h/t www.kilroymetal.com)

With people bbq'ing, the Statue of Liberty's head getting open and the waterfront abuzz, I'm going to miss my hometown even more than usual. I'll try to sneak in another quick note before the month's out. Just one for May has got to get a little dap for coming through in the home stretch.



(h/t brooklynbridgepark.org)

xo,
T


Gnosis
by Theodore Worozbyt

Turns out the radiologist didn't know thing one about radios. I stood there in my stocking feet and waited for the music to begin again. Being generally good with small motors I would mow and mow the lawn stoically with a white hand towel draped around my neck. I was stimulated by the reports of the optical scienteers. Because of the particular reflective and refractive qualities inherent in the molecular structure of the chlorophyll molecule, the wavelength perceived by the human eye as green is in fact repulsed by grass. Thus grass is all other colors. Impossible, impossible! was the catarrh violently discharging itself in the chambers of my thoughts. Grass and vert are green. Reading is black surrounded by white. If not, what? A barely perceptible hum underfoot that turns out to be electricity or some other invisible fluid? A basket heaped with unadjusted watches? The forests filled with white tigers. Fire came from god's beard. The sun rolled, a chariot wheel flaring its treads across the clouds. Starlight: angelic punctuation on the carbon paper of midnight. New York City sewers crawled with titanic alligators before debunkers in rubber boots stepped in. President Somebody was smoking an Egyptian cigarette and several papers didn't get signed before the prognosis began to resemble a trumpet: something gold around a hole.


(h/t poets.org)