I wouldn't be a liar
                                No i wouldn't be a liar if i told you that
                       When things are all you think of
                                               And plans are all you make
                           and thoughts are all you dream of
                                                                  your falls are all you take
                                       look out the world's destroying you
                                                                              relax it isn't fair
                                                                           mother nature's disposition
                              she don't mind, she don't care
                                                                and I wouldn't be a liar
                                                                                       if I told you that
                                                                          Passing over, passions pour, passing everything
                                                                    I wouldn't be a liar
                                                                                   if I told you that
                                                                                It takes up all of your life
                                                                                    these decisions you make
                                                                                it takes up all of a day
                                                                                    making them all

                                          Well i sat on the patio
                    while the pianos were being tuned
                            forget about it all for a little while
she don't mind she dont care
                                    and I wouldn't be a liar       
                            if I told you that
You see, it seems minor to me
it seems minor

So there I am, reading my Amazon suggestions (as I'm wont to do, like browsing at Macy's but for books) and I read a recommendation for a book that I read, and really didn't quite like. Title: Almost Stopped Before I Started: So Glad I Didn't!.

I thought about that, why a person would recommend a book they almost didn't read. I remembered then that I almost didn't read Moby Dick again and am thrilled I did (and a little too self-satisfied about it, but I digress). So, for that moment, I was with her on that.

And then came the most insipid statement I think I've heard in all my years:

"I almost ruled out reading this book when I read the author's (to me) bold statement on page 225: "Can you write a poem in 20 minutes? We seriously doubt it."

And she follows with:

"Being, at times, a very fast poet, I *gasped* when I read that assertion!"

Well, la-ti-fucking-da.

Then I thought about that statement for a moment. And my anger bore an increase that forced me to take this down so that no one else may suffer confusion:

You don't write a poem in 20 minutes. Not even a fucking haiku.

This is something about which I am intimately familiar, writing poetry and fiction as I do. I do this on a daily basis. I give these poems to other people so that they may find homes, and they do. So when I hear someone who writes WITHOUT intention (which is the only way a poem comes into being in under 20 minutes and will not bear revision), it first disorients me. I know many, many writers. I know fiction writers who take a week soothing the syntax of a single sentence. I have spent a day musing on the effects of a comma. I have spent days translating the diction of a piece from one speaker to another. I have beat myself up over word choice. Wept under the tree of sonic beauty.

But that ire bore fruit: 1) A poem is a sibling to all the other poems you have ever written. It can be the deadbeat brother who dropped out of school and hasn't called unless he needed money or a place to crash, but brother nonetheless. Sometimes you're a bad parent, refusing to set good limits, letting the line run all around town. Sometimes you're abusive and constrict the language to the point of breaking. (For the record, I do not have this sort of brother. But I hear that these sorts of brothers exist and that makes it a ripe and apt metaphor.) 

And now the corollary of this thought: you have been writing the poem you're writing all your life. Its appearance is no accident and is the result of every other linguistic complication and challenge you have tacked until this moment.

And then, a third rule: the trick of revision is not to find the answer to the issue you have begun to tackle in language. You must understand the question you are posing and let the poem phrase that question in the best way possible. I only say this because I lack faith in that we're ever going to get the answer, but at least to learn to ask better questions of language. 

So, I guess, I should thank this chick and her ignorant rantings about her 20 minute poems... I think the theorems of composition that came into the world at my moment of indignation means that she was put on earth for a reason. If only that she may run across this post and understand that she is neverevereverever to say that kind of shit in public again.

PS. My roommate pointed out that maybe a poem COULD be written in 20 minutes not accounting for quality. But the very notion that quality is not taken into account is so foreign, so strange, so terrifying to me that I will post this regardless and pretend that all people want to write quality work. I do not want to live in a word that crap is analogous to poem. That's another post altogether. Don't even get me started.  

Wiwi Trapp would like me to know that Britney Spears is Actually a Piece of Broccoli.

edit_n_picnikDSC_0143, originally uploaded by Tic-TacNpics.

Pat, I could not tell what kind of bird this is...and was wondering if you knew. Also, are you reasonably sure that the white bird I posted today is a heron? I sorta thought it was an egret...but I really don't know. I really would like to tag the two 'big bird' pics that I have taken so far. If you can maybe (or anyone out there...) help me to identify them, I would sure appreciate the help. Thanks :-)

This is the second night in a row that I can smell a skunk in the area. Anyone got a spare bedroom I can crash in for a few nights?

Ya' know that cat litter commercial where the cats all come over to
one house & have a party while their hoomans are gone?

That happened at my house today.

My guys seem to fly past me & get outside every time I try leaving for
a Dr's. appointment. Most of the time I do not have the time (or the
physical wherewithall) to get them back in & still catch my
handicapped bus. SO today I left the back door open just a skosh so
they could get back in. I was only going to be gone for 2 hours. I
figured it'd be ok.

When I got home, 2 of the neighborhood strays were IN MY HOUSE with
Pooh & Tipper!! They hightailed it out of here pretty fast once they
saw me though.

Once I got the stereo turned down, vacuumed up all the confetti &
pulled down the disco ball I confronted my furry kids. And of course
they were all sweet & innocent...."What? You TOLD us to be nice &
make friends, right??!!" as they both ppbbllfttt'd out some confetti
that was in their mouths.

BUSTED!!! Ok, Voxers. Grounding them doesn't seem to do the trick.
What do YOU think would be an appropriate punishment for such
SHENANIGANS??!!! I am at my wit's end, I tell ya! Sheesh!!!

Busted!

Omgpics!!003.jpg

Here's a take on that Always* ad campaign from my favorite parody site, The Daily Mash. If you don't read a lot of British news, most of the articles won't have enough context to seem funny, but some, like this one, are fairly universal. 

NO WOMEN INVOLVED IN LATEST PANTYLINER ADVERT

'Do we know why it goes inside the panties?' NO women were involved in the making of the latest advert for Always pantyliners, it was confirmed last night. The company has admitted the commercial, which offers women the chance to 'have a happy period', was made by a group of men who do not know what a period is. A spokeswoman said: "All the girls in the office were on holiday when this went out, so there was no-one around to check it. "When we asked the men what they thought they were doing, it soon became clear they believed a period was either the five hours between breakfast and lunch, or some kind of sporting contest. "We then described a period in terrifyingly explicit biological terms, and they all agreed that 'happy' was not an appropriate word to use, no matter how good your fanny pads are." The company is now testing new slogans including 'have a period that's not unremittingly nauseating and painful' and 'periods - this might help'. The spokeswoman added: "I suggested 'have a period that doesn't make you want to stuff his nuts into the waste disposal' but then again, I'm having my period. "We're also going to lose the animation of the woman dancing around without a care in the world, because that's just a lot of bollocks."

Whose the Boss, baby?  Me, that's who!  I gots me a seat for the Springsteen/E-Street show tomorrow night, bitches.

Yeah, I'm in the executive suite.  It's no big deal.  One of the greatest poets and icons in working man's rock music, that's all.  Ya know, whatever.

Springsteen