Poetry Corner pt. 2

Assignment: write your "swan song." (Swan Song? Whaat? Explanation: The phrase "swan song" is a reference to an ancient belief that the Mute Swan (Cygnus olor) is completely mute during its lifetime until the moment just before it dies, when it sings one beautiful song.)
Here we are. My last song. I'm a creeper. And yes, I took the idea from the metric imitation poem I just posted and copied the rhythm of 2 separate jump roping ditties. If you can figure out which ones, then you're a wonder. Or just a girl who jump roped a lot as a child.

One for the Children

Beatrix Potter,
Strawberry wine,
Fourteen girls named Madeline.
Hair pulled up and tied in a bun
Tilt their heads and drink their rum.

Grimm, Grimm, patronym
Killing off all your ladies
Shove them in a burning oven
Have them bludgeoned in a dungeon
Chamomile tea.

Snow. Sleep. Red. Rabbit.
Snow. Sleep. Red.

Poetry Corner

I've been lax with my posting lately, including posting my lame-o poems. So here comes a few in a row.
Assignment: Copy the meter of another poem and create your own piece.

Poem I imitated:

Question
by May Swenson

Body my house
my horse my hound
what will I do
when you are fallen

Where will I sleep
How will I ride
What will I hunt

Where can I go
without my mount
all eager and quick
How will I know
in thicket ahead
is danger or treasure
when Body my good
bright dog is dead

How will it be
to lie in the sky

without roof or door
and wind for an eye

With cloud for shift
how will I hide?


Mine:

Sirens

Building of sand
of only air
stones grind to ash
beneath a whisper

How do you stand
Why don't you cave
When will you fall

How many lives
will you take claim
collecting their souls
Your fateful collapse
is drawing us near
is pulling us further
You building of sand
are not my home

Charlton Heston Cordially Invites You...

Child seen here with his two friends Hermie and Bingo. They're rehearsing for their critically anticipated acting debut--Ben Hur.

I don't know any way to even begin to describe these. What were they thinking? Were they all drugged in the 50's? I'm thinking yes.
Be Prepared

It's That Time of Year

Vintage Printable

Yahoo!
I found another awesome vintage site.

Tagline: Free vintage images – mostly naturalist, botanical and scientific. Printable, downloadable. Democratizing Public Domain.
There are just hundreds upon hundreds of images on here. From bizarre to dreamy to humorous. Stamps to photos to paintings. It's going to take me hours to go through them all.
Just as a side note, they have this really irritating browsing system, but if you disable the flash gallery you can just browse normally.

As usual...
Highlights:

There's something about this one^ that really creeps me out.

Best Discovery of My Life

No joke.
Library of Congress Flickr

Highlights in order to entice you to check it out:
Click any picture to send you straight to where it came from. It's a magical, magical site.

Northern Exposure--My Dirty Little Secret Revealed

We all know I hate John Corbett. He's gross and slithery and I just don't like him. He gives me the creeps.

I, therefore, have been hiding the fact that I've been watching "Northern Exposure" for the last couple of months. For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, "Northern Exposure" is this quirky early 90's TV show set in Alaska. And Corbett may or may not be an actor in it. And I may or may not sort of tolerate his character in the show. And sometimes even find him funny and endearing. I'm so ashamed.

See? He's completely clothed. Almost a normal person.

It could be the fact that Corbett's character, Chris, is a radio personality who plays a wonderful selection of music and who occasionally reads classic books over the air. Plus he sometimes wears his cute little John Lennon glasses.
Until today.
Today's episode features Chris, who apparently secretes some kind of pheromone that attracts women. They flock to him and he...has his way with them.
This could be the episode that triggers his creepy slithery personality.
I could be watching his downfall as I type. This is a sad, sad day. I feel like I understand so much more now. Like I really understand the way the world works and it's a terrible, terrible place.

Enough about Creeper McCreeperson. Highlights of the show (which you should definitely watch):

Moose walking across the street in front of a marijuana mural

Examining the body of a man who got hit by satellite debris.

This is Adam. He's a rumored Sasquatch, but is, in all actuality, a culinary chef.

This is Maggie. My sister thinks I look like her. I think she's insane.

Whimsical Music Wednesday

I went to see "It's Kind of a Funny Story" a couple of days ago. I'm not going to lie. I really liked it. But the point of this post is:
The song "Icarus" was in it movie and it's just absolutely wonderful. It reminds me a lot of "Where the Wild Things Are" (which I loved. Don't even fight with me on that. I won't budge).
So here they are.
The word "whimsical" fits them to the "t"

White Hinterland



My, there were quite a few " " in this post

Poetry Corner

I'm resurrecting the Masterpiece Theater theme for this one.
Welcome to Poetry Corner!
This week's assignment:
Write a metaphor poem

Not Quite Remembering

It’s like

Completing a puzzle without the box cover

or

Squinting at a piece of art work

or, no,

Looking down in the water

Down past the choppy surface and

into the deep

water.

You can see it

there

vaguely, vision cloudy,

your anchor weighted

down on the bottom

of the sea.

Time to bring it back up

to the

surface.

Grab the chain.

Hand

Over hand over hand over

hand.

Too heavy.

Brace your feet

against the edge.

Heave

Ho

Heave

Nothing.

The anchor stays down

at the bottom

of the sea.

Hmm.

That’s not quite it.

It’s like

It’s like

something. . .

Wait.

I know this. . .

More Magical Music Monday

If this is what her song book looks like, you know she's amazing.

Laura Marling

I just now looked her up and found out that she has adorable brown locks now, instead of her bizarre Bikini Kill circa 1990 bleached blonde haircut.
And she has a new album out!
And she toured with Mumford & Sons!
And I just love her.
Am I the only one that thinks she looks like Paul McCartney when she sings?

Fantastical Music Friday

Dead Man's Bones

Don't be scared. This isn't another "Hey. I'm an actor. That must mean I can sing too!" horror a la Russell Crowe. Forget about who sings in this band (and if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you) and just listen. It's really fantastic.
I mean, I bought this album. I never buy music. Ever. Trust me. It's worth it.

Poor Poor Poem

This week's assignment was to write an imitation poem.
The poem I'm imitating:

The Woman Who Is Early
by Nin Andrews

The Woman Who Is Early is always at least one step ahead of
time. She is always rushing and rushing. Where-ever she goes,
she is already there long before she arrives. Whatever she is
saying, she has already said it before the words leave her lips.
Whatever song she is singing she is already so sick of it, and she
wishes she could get it out of her mind. Whatever meal she is
preparing, she has eaten it before taking the first bite. Whatever
man she desires, she had made love to him a thousand times
before he ever undresses her. A man can never make love to her
the way he did once upon a time, before he made love to her. Of
course therapists tell her she should slow down and rest a spell.
Relax. She has heard those words long before she ever sees
therapists. Does she have to explain it to them again? How a
great wave is chasing her? It is rising above her head even as she
thinks of it. If she looks back, just once, it will wash over her.
She will instantly drown. Of course, she is right. That's why she
has already drowned.

My poor imitation of it.
At least this class is teaching me literary humility.

The Woman Who Is Late
after Nin Andrews

The Woman Who Is Late is always at least one step behind time.
She is always lounging and lazing. Wherever she goes, she never arrives.
Whatever she is saying, she says to no one in particular since they
have already gone before she can speak. Whatever book she loves,
she never reads since it has long since gone out of publication. Whatever
meal she makes, she has to throw away since it has expired before she
can taste it. Whatever high school sweetheart she longs for, she tries to
seduce after he has already married and retired. A man can never love her
when she is only now in the present, considering the boy of the past. Of
course everyone tells her that she needs to stop dawdling and stop making
everyone else wait for her. Hurry up. She doesn’t hear these words until it’s
too late. Why didn’t they tell her sooner? Can they not see that the moving
sidewalk she is on even now is slowing? She chases the people ahead of her but she can’t ever seem to reach them. If she trips and falls, just once, she’ll be sent flying backward. She will never be able to catch up. Of course, she is right. That’s why she is left alone in the past.

You're the end of the rainbow, my pot of gold

My dad occasionally teaches chapel at the school he works at. Most of the time, he likes to include a personal, self-deprecating anecdote, complete with pictures. And I'm the one that winds up scanning them onto the computer. So as I was scanning them late one Tuesday night before the Wednesday morning chapel, I noticed some distinct similarities between my dad and I. See if you can find them.

Oh and Prince Valiant was our triplet.

Btw I tried to find Michael Bolton's version of "Daddy's Little Girl" to put on the end here but couldn't find it. You're all lucky. Very lucky.

Disney!

I can't believe I've never talked about my Disney obsession before. I've loved Disney ever since I was little. "Beauty and the Beast" was the first movie I ever saw in a theater. Either that or "Curly Sue." Very similar movies...very similar...
The first time I ever went to Disneyland was on Easter when I was probably 3 or so. I was convinced we were going to Disney World and my older (and obviously wrong) brother knew it was Disneyland. We argued. He won. Whatever. Like it even matters.
Pfft.
Anyway, since my family has generally gone to Disneyland in the winter (January-early March are prime Disney-ing times. Rain + no crowds= amazing), around this time of year I start jonesing to go.
All that to say...
This is one of the greatest tv shows ever recorded:

Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

Ps If you don't know who EJ Peaker is...the Osmonds will explain. Donny and...that other one.
Pps You're welcome.

Printmaking

I'm also taking Printmaking this quarter. I had absolutely no idea what that meant when I signed up but it fit the qualifications I needed and Photo was long filled up.

Basically, it's stamp making...from hell.
We did our first carving (yes, carving) and everyone had these intricate, perfect designs.

From Here

From Here

And mine looked like this:Obviously it's a fox.
Yikes.

Macabre Poem Monday

("Macabre" here, meaning: 1. gruesome and horrifying; ghastly; horrible.)
This week's assignment was to write about details. I didn't. HA! Stick it to the man.
(For why I'm writing poems, go here)

Burdens
My face too large.
Their bodies too small.
My face against the ground.
Their bodies running in circles.
Me.
Them.
Human.
Ants.
I watch.
They carry the bodies of their fallen friends.
I wonder.
They set one down and pick another one up.
I say, “It’s time to let them go.”
They say, “It’s time for you too.”

It's kind of shaped like an ant head/neck/shoulders...weird and unplanned. I'M NOT CRAZY!!

ANTM Cycle #...I have no idea

I don't know how I ALWAYS miss the beginning of America's Next Top Model, but here it is again!!!
I.
Love.
Rhianna.
This girl is so endearingly crazy. Like Stevie Nicks.

Google image search--first picture up. Coincidence?

I think not.

I miss her already.

Terrible Poem Tuesday

I'm in a poetry class this quarter. I have to suffer so you do too. (Not that I don't really mind writing poetry, it's just that whole critiquing poetry thing. How are you supposed to do that? With essays, it's easy. It makes sense or it doesn't. It's grammatically correct or it's not. With poetry, you can do whatever the heck you want. So welcome to my life for the next 10 weeks.)

This week's assignment: Write a direct address to "you."

Give You Away
by Kelly Maitlen


Do
Not
Touch me.

All day
You ignore me.


I try to hold you
But you push me
Away.

Now
You want to be near me?
Now
You want my love?

Leave
Me
Alone.

We sleep alone at night.
What makes you think
I want you here now
in the day?

Your body
has no place
next to mine.
This bed
is only big enough
for one.

I am beneath these blankets
to keep you out
not to entice you beneath them.

I just
Want
To sleep.

Have you finally gone?
Thank—
God!
Get
Out
Now.

Keep your whiskers
Off my cheek
And your nose
Out of my ear
And for God’s sake

Get
Off
My head!

Fine.
You win.

Oh don’t smirk.
You forget
These hands
Are the ones that feed you.
These, the fingers
That scratch your ears.

I know.
I love you, too.

Wake me again tomorrow
And I’ll
Give
You
Away.

(ed., As if you didn't already know I'm a crazy cat lady. Yikes. Might as well end off strong with a picture of my cats, Cricket and Ducky.)

Magical Music Monday

Beach House

I saw Vampire Weekend Saturday night (which, hello, amazing) and Beach House opened for them. It got me thinking about what exactly makes one band magical and another simply awesome. Because while Vampire Weekend is one of my favorite bands, they're not exactly magical. Maybe it has to do with being ethereal. And slightly off your rocker. I don't know. Either way...they were one of the best live bands I've ever seen.
(And if you want a completely watered down version of what it's like to have been there when their black backdrop exploded into hundreds of sparkling lights reminiscent of stars --> BING)

Already heard of Beach House? Try
Givers

A Letter to Dana

Dear Dana,

Write follow-up chapters to the 3 stories we have concurring on our story blog.

Thanks,

Kelly

Ps Failure to do so will result in death. Or these people will haunt you.

(Yes, that is my dad in the lower left corner.)

I've Found My New Profession

Ahhhhhhh look at that window seat!!!!!

If it ever goes missing...and I happen to simultaneously go missing...don't bother looking for us. We're going to live a long happy life together out in the woods where it always rains and I have an endless supply of tea and sweaters and pumpkin scented candles. And it's always Fall. And I can play Scrabble in between books. And a cat. There's a cat there somewhere.

Welcome to this week's episode of "This Is Your Life," Crazy Cat Lady edition. Yikes.

Staunch Characters

I watched the remake of "Grey Gardens" recently. Although I don't know if you can truly "remake" a documentary, it turned out wonderfully, I think. I mean, yes, The Edies may be endearing in their lunacy, but while you're watching them, you can't help but wonder how they could possibly have turned out the way they did--which is where the new "Grey Gardens" swoops in to explain what caused their downfall in society. Plus we all learned that Drew Barrymore doesn't have to talk out of the side of her mouth.
But.
On the note of Staunch Characters I love ("staunch" here meaning 1. Firm or steadfast in principle, adherence, loyalty,etc., 2. Characterized by firmness, steadfastness, or loyalty 3. Strong; substantial 4. Impervious to water or other liquids)

Santino Rice and Austin Scarlett
Not only are they strong of character, they're also ridiculous. And I'm pretty sure Austin's hair is "impervious to water."

Bonnie Hunt
"Strong and substantial." I'm sure also "loyal" and all that other nonsense, but really...I just love her.

Tim Gunn
I obviously watch a lot of "Project Runway."

"Spellbound" Documentary Contestants
Calm in the face of words they don't know how to spell. I also obviously watch a lot of documentaries. Speaking of which, if you haven't seen this movie, watch it. Now. Seriously. I bet they all know the etymology of the word "staunch," how to spell it, and can use it in a sentence.

John Cleese
Also impervious to water. He was, after all, a newt for a very short while. Although thankfully, he got better.

President Polk (aka "Young Hickory." Not to be confused with Franklin Pierce, "Young Hickory of the Granite Hills." Let's get it right, people.)
No particular reason. I just feel like he was. Oh and there's this interesting fact about him, "Polk survived a gallstone operation at age 17 without anesthesia or antiseptics. Those medical practices were not used at the time."

It would be incredibly narcissistic to include myself in this list, but well, too bad. I just won't include a picture of myself. (How's that for humble?) I've just finally found a word to describe myself that isn't "stubborn" so I'm going to claim it completely.

"...and I tell you if there's anything worse than dealing with a staunch woman... S-T-A-U-N-C-H. There's nothing worse, I'm telling you. They don't weaken, no matter what."--Little Edie

Meet Ziggy

I have a new friend.
Unfortunately, I'm allergic to him.
I discovered this tragedy when I went to sleep with Zigmond the Zorse on my bedside table and awoke to hives all over my legs. As an additional bonus, my throat was swollen and cotton-y.
But thankfully, with him hung safely on my wall we can both live happy healthy lives. I won't get hives and he won't accidentally get stepped on.

Thank you my dear friend Dana for giving him to me. I promise to take care of him. As long as he doesn't try to kill me again, anyway. Otherwise, Ziggy's going down.

Summer Leftovers

Since Fall is finally (FINALLY) impending , here is my last hurrah to summer. Get out of here, good riddance!

From Albany Bulb--a hippie reserve in Albany:



From housesitting:

I like tomatoes, ok? They were delicious.