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Monthly Archives: November 2011
What Jasper says when I get home.
Um um Merlot Right now I know Wow wow you’re home I’m home I’m cold Me now I’m like no Go all the way now Owl! Merlot! My loud now go on now When you’re home all the way now … Continue reading
black humour and The Beauty Queen of Leenane
Last night we broke our usual routine and went out in the appropriately cold and rainy night to see The Beauty Queen of Leenane at the Langham Court Theatre. This post is not a review, but it is a response, which … Continue reading
Posted in nomenclature
Tagged black comedy, literature, mental illness, play, response, The Beauty Queen of Leenane
2 Comments
Context, Bowering, Where I’m At, and Some Solicitation
I have been asked to give context to the last post, the found poem, which I find at least marginally hilarious and quite tender. To the ones who accuse me of opacity! I know how you feel. I’m reading Bowering’s … Continue reading
Posted in nomenclature
Tagged Burning Water, George Bowering, occupy your awkward heart, writing, yoga
2 Comments
found poem, overheard: in which she takes his hand across the table while he talks about Occupy
Everyone there was so full of love. And care. It was really beautiful. Anyway it was really intense. And there was this crazy shooting. This kid got shot. It was really sad. Oh well. Anyway tell me about your travels. Oh … Continue reading
regarding DGR’s open letter to OWS
It is so fascinating how much passion can be summoned to bang the drums for end times, radical and even violent revolution, massive upheaval, apocalyptic change, all for the purpose of founding a better way. What happens in the liminality … Continue reading
riddling utopia
E R E I am: exploring the connection between perceptions of landscape and the search for utopia, wondering: how does a claim to place, a sense of belonging, emerge from a phenomenological encountering of that place? Perception, the act of mind … Continue reading
A change of plans and four haiku
Just when you pin something down up it comes again to stab you in the heel, which can be just the thing on a nameless November week of mornings that never were, that drag you dreaming across the floor with … Continue reading
