Added Laurie Sheck's "Notes on
Added Laurie Sheck's "Notes on the Earth Seen from Space," from the Summer 2006 issue of A Public Space, to my highlights list. No text yet, but if you happen to see a copy on bookstore shelves...(and I suspect you might, as I've seen this in a number of places). I'd say more, but I don't want to ruin anyone's individual discovery of the poem.
* * * * *
The Ritalin was a disaster, so my doc switched me over to Wellbutrin. It's helping a little, but the side effects are still more tangible than the benefit, so we'll see.
* * * * *
GOOD NEWS: I took what I thought was a stack of scribbling half-starts in to my thesis advisor, at her request, and she found five new poems that with a few edits are 'done' to her satisfaction. Which means, I've finished writing my honors thesis!! All that's left to do is polish and order the thing. She and Seth are in agreement that what I most need is someone to tell me when to let go and stop writing. I'd be lying if I said I agreed completely. Just about every poem in my thesis could be better, so I feel like I'm settling, whether or not the poems are good enough for publication and/or earning me honors at BC. I don't know where I get off thinking this way. There must be an element of egomania in valuing my opinion of my work above everyone else's, even if I generally think less of that work. But something in my gut tells me that if I don't remain dissatisfied, I'll end up deluding myself into complacency.
* * * * *
The Laurie Sheck poem doesn't necessarily dazzle in the first ten lines, or even the first half page. It's a three page poem that comments on astro/cosmonauts' accounts of their experiences in space. The opening lays the groundwork for the rest of the piece, and strikes me as completely appropriate. But it got me thinking--where does this idea that a poem should "hook" the reader in the first few lines come from? Is it still relevant? For journalists and advertisers perhaps, but for poets? Does one really want to appeal to that sort of impatience and/or attention deficit in readers? Just asking questions, not making any assertions.
* * * * *
In the Forum section of the same issue of A Public Space, Michael Azerrad writes:
"I'm just not hearing the NO in the current crop of edgy bands. They seem to live lives of stylish desperation, yelping about pedestrian personal crises, more concerned with sporting undersized little jackets and combing their hair in front of their ears just so. I'm not saying there aren't any good bands anymore (it's actually a very exciting time for music). Nor that these bands have to protest in literal terms...There's just very little sense of implicit cultural dissent in cutting-edge rock music (besides a simulacrum of one so blatantly commodified that absolutely nobody takes it seriously), just oblivious self-obsession."
"And when these bands do take stands against things, overwhelmingly it's only against other approaches to music: let's stamp out emo, or music that's too complex, or music that's too simple. In the end, it's all insular--and thus inconsequential. There are so many more interesting things to destroy."
I found this notable, not just for its familiar ring, but because it reminded me of a song I heard on the radio a couple months ago--by PINK and THE INDIGO GIRLS! It's by no means a great, or even good song, but it is an unequivocal protest song. Of course, it's mostly too little too late, as there's very little risk inherent in Bush-bashing, even on mainstream radio, anymore. Here are the lyrics:
"Dear Mr. President"
(Pink feat. Indigo Girls)
Dear Mr. President
Come take a walk with me
Let's pretend we're just two people and
You're not better than me
I'd like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly
What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep
What do you feel when you look in the mirror
Are you proud
How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why
Dear Mr. President
Were you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
How can you say
No child is left behind
We're not dumb and we're not blind
They're all sitting in your cells
While you pave the road to hell
What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine
How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye
Let me tell you bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don't know nothing bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh
How do you sleep at night
How do you walk with your head held high
Dear Mr. President
You'd never take a walk with me
Would you?
