A bit of an odd week this week. I don't mean to make light of the preceding events. I just....
Workshop.
The class as a collective body. I don't mean the quality of the class, or the quality of work, or content, or anything like that.
My grandfather passed away last week.
Eric's brother passed away last Friday.
Kim's father passed away today.
We're all in the same class.
There are only 7 total poets in the class.
I found it odd. Worth noting. Not worth making light of.
It was...is...just a mathematical certainty that a common denominator can often be reached........in the most peculiar of ways.
My thoughts and concerns with the aforementioned individuals and their families.
John out.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
some comments on a large northwestern town...and other things
I spent the last few days trying to convince myself that living in Seattle would in some way be a bad idea. I was not successful. It's not often that you become so connected with a place that you vow to make it home, especially after a two day visit. I think, though, it's equally less frequent to find fault with such an assumption.
Many times I think it's best for us to stop rationalizing "safe" moves and do what feels right. That sounds far too ambitious and trite in many ways, but it really involves getting back to the basics of living. Again, trite and nauseously ambitions.....just like a poet to do so....and then make up words to describe it.
That having been said, I spent the weekend in Seattle. (very anti-climactic at this point...apologies). I loved it. So many things to see. So many interesting people and places. The city was booming, and I felt a great deal of satisfaction to know such a place still exists in this country.
My conclusion...I want to live there when I'm finished with this 2 year program; and so, after some deliberation, I have decided that is just what I will do.
As a slight turn, I have tried to avoid allowing the political season to leak into my creative work, but I just can't help it. So many important things are going on, I almost can't keep it off of my mind. I've composed a few pieces (all of which will likely never see the light of day) that are (dangerously) tinged with political agenda, commentary on social strife, hypocrisy, violence, and many other things.
I find this style of work to be therapeutic in a strange way, but also not indicative of my style of work, and therefore potentially confusing to those who may be familiar with it. For that reason I have decided not to share it, but rather share the passion and eloquence of my hero, Keith Olbermann, who speaks volumes on the political issues in this country in a way that I could never dream. I am, in many ways, envious of his dedication to the cause.
I hope I can assist in spreading his passion, particularly now, when it matters most.
There were several clips to choose from. This one I found to be particularly moving. Enjoy.
One voice for the sentiments of millions....myself included.
John out.
Many times I think it's best for us to stop rationalizing "safe" moves and do what feels right. That sounds far too ambitious and trite in many ways, but it really involves getting back to the basics of living. Again, trite and nauseously ambitions.....just like a poet to do so....and then make up words to describe it.
That having been said, I spent the weekend in Seattle. (very anti-climactic at this point...apologies). I loved it. So many things to see. So many interesting people and places. The city was booming, and I felt a great deal of satisfaction to know such a place still exists in this country.
My conclusion...I want to live there when I'm finished with this 2 year program; and so, after some deliberation, I have decided that is just what I will do.
As a slight turn, I have tried to avoid allowing the political season to leak into my creative work, but I just can't help it. So many important things are going on, I almost can't keep it off of my mind. I've composed a few pieces (all of which will likely never see the light of day) that are (dangerously) tinged with political agenda, commentary on social strife, hypocrisy, violence, and many other things.
I find this style of work to be therapeutic in a strange way, but also not indicative of my style of work, and therefore potentially confusing to those who may be familiar with it. For that reason I have decided not to share it, but rather share the passion and eloquence of my hero, Keith Olbermann, who speaks volumes on the political issues in this country in a way that I could never dream. I am, in many ways, envious of his dedication to the cause.
I hope I can assist in spreading his passion, particularly now, when it matters most.
There were several clips to choose from. This one I found to be particularly moving. Enjoy.
One voice for the sentiments of millions....myself included.
John out.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
a poetry reading and simplicity
I learned a little about my self last week, and then coming into this week. How surprising. But consider this....how many ways there are to live and learn in a graduate program. Also, consider the many things that can (and will) go wrong. My solution...very simply really:
Keep it simple.
I forgot that I adopted this philosophy some years ago when I felt overwhelmed by my various chores and tasks. Simplify! It's fantastic! The reason I have felt so overwhelmed is because I've tried to fit so many different, unrelated things into my days, they all get jumbled. Things are unavoidably forgotten, priorities are skewed, and chaos ensues!
By reminding myself of what really matters, I leave extra time for myself. There is time to relax at home. To watch a movie. To have a nice dinner, or take a walk. These are many of the simple but great things we often take for granted.
With that nonsense having been said, I must comment on the poetry reading in which I participated in Philomath on Saturday. I've performed before large crowds before. I've given speeches, played music, sang, and even gave small lectures before--but I've never stood by myself on a stage and read my poetry to others.
The experience was enlightening. Imagine yourself and your craft. Now imagine yourself and your craft together in a room with people who have the same craft, and who are quite good at it! Good enough to be recognized for it, even! Now imagine that your entire perspective on the situation changes the moment you get to the podium to read because, for whatever reason, all the things that seemed to matter before....the battle of stressed syllables, the format on the page, the connotation and value of a word....none of it matters anymore.
None of it matters because when work is read aloud, we really are left with the most fundamental value of words....how they sound. We can stare at a page of Verse all day long if we want. We could mark the stresses, and make seemingly endless assumptions about the meaning of the poem. But when you hear the words spoken, it changes everything. It reminds you why people write. It isn't to obtain an appreciation of poetic form, or to trick the reader. The purpose is to move people in a way that conversation and reading cannot. It's a way of thinking.
This all sounds so lofty and idealistic in retrospect. But I know, at least for a few moments, I was reminded of why I want to write. If what I say, or how I frame my work, or introduce it, reaches even one person, I've done my job.
Did I do that? I'm not sure. The real problem with poetry readings is that, in general, the feedback you receive from the audience is instantaneous, and reflects only the most immediate reactions--which, in many ways, is the most important reaction of all. But in other, more accurate ways, the fear of performance and rhetorical success trumps all of that, and all I can concentrate on was whether or not I said the names of the event organizers correctly, or if I stumbled in any traumatic way.
I can tell this will always be the case. I can't escape the way I feel about my work. I can only hope that my words will do their job, and reach someone, in some vague way.
Did I think it went alright? Sure, I do. I was still standing at the end. And even now, I have the most odd urge to do it again...like a craving, like natural desire (oh yes, I'm going there) to speak, and let my words do, as many would say, what I have come here to learn to make them do.
Cheers,
John
Keep it simple.
I forgot that I adopted this philosophy some years ago when I felt overwhelmed by my various chores and tasks. Simplify! It's fantastic! The reason I have felt so overwhelmed is because I've tried to fit so many different, unrelated things into my days, they all get jumbled. Things are unavoidably forgotten, priorities are skewed, and chaos ensues!
By reminding myself of what really matters, I leave extra time for myself. There is time to relax at home. To watch a movie. To have a nice dinner, or take a walk. These are many of the simple but great things we often take for granted.
With that nonsense having been said, I must comment on the poetry reading in which I participated in Philomath on Saturday. I've performed before large crowds before. I've given speeches, played music, sang, and even gave small lectures before--but I've never stood by myself on a stage and read my poetry to others.
The experience was enlightening. Imagine yourself and your craft. Now imagine yourself and your craft together in a room with people who have the same craft, and who are quite good at it! Good enough to be recognized for it, even! Now imagine that your entire perspective on the situation changes the moment you get to the podium to read because, for whatever reason, all the things that seemed to matter before....the battle of stressed syllables, the format on the page, the connotation and value of a word....none of it matters anymore.
None of it matters because when work is read aloud, we really are left with the most fundamental value of words....how they sound. We can stare at a page of Verse all day long if we want. We could mark the stresses, and make seemingly endless assumptions about the meaning of the poem. But when you hear the words spoken, it changes everything. It reminds you why people write. It isn't to obtain an appreciation of poetic form, or to trick the reader. The purpose is to move people in a way that conversation and reading cannot. It's a way of thinking.
This all sounds so lofty and idealistic in retrospect. But I know, at least for a few moments, I was reminded of why I want to write. If what I say, or how I frame my work, or introduce it, reaches even one person, I've done my job.
Did I do that? I'm not sure. The real problem with poetry readings is that, in general, the feedback you receive from the audience is instantaneous, and reflects only the most immediate reactions--which, in many ways, is the most important reaction of all. But in other, more accurate ways, the fear of performance and rhetorical success trumps all of that, and all I can concentrate on was whether or not I said the names of the event organizers correctly, or if I stumbled in any traumatic way.
I can tell this will always be the case. I can't escape the way I feel about my work. I can only hope that my words will do their job, and reach someone, in some vague way.
Did I think it went alright? Sure, I do. I was still standing at the end. And even now, I have the most odd urge to do it again...like a craving, like natural desire (oh yes, I'm going there) to speak, and let my words do, as many would say, what I have come here to learn to make them do.
Cheers,
John
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