Negative Attitudes toward the United States in the Muslim World: Do They Matter?
The man who gave the testimony (to Congress... that is a transcript) came to Bangkok and I met him with my boss. They worked on a survey together about Thai people's opinions of the US.
I was very impressed by the article.
(Sorry if the blog's getting too political. Eh, not that sorry.)
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Song of David
Green pastures of mist and misery
Take us to the mountain bare and cold.
Lambs ask for everything without words
I sit and gaze at the same pile of stones
This is the shepherd phase and sheep are idiots
I pull those sheep over cliffs and I write tunes in my head
That will never be as good as they are in my head
And the pastures turn yellow corn joy fields
Let us sing a song for every dead person no one will remember
Let us praise the repetitive flowers.
Take us to the mountain bare and cold.
Lambs ask for everything without words
I sit and gaze at the same pile of stones
This is the shepherd phase and sheep are idiots
I pull those sheep over cliffs and I write tunes in my head
That will never be as good as they are in my head
And the pastures turn yellow corn joy fields
Let us sing a song for every dead person no one will remember
Let us praise the repetitive flowers.
Cento
I've written a cento before and posted on this blog and you can dig through and try to find it if you're really all that interested. It was made of ee cummings, Franz Wright, and Pablo Neruda. I'm too lazy to repost it.
A cento is a a poem pieced from other poems. Other people's poems only, I believe. The book I'm pulling these forms from says that someone made a cento about the life of Jesus and pulled all the lines out of Homer. I'd like to read that.
This time I decided to piece one from bits of Biblical Psalms i jotted down in my last journal. So, all the lines are from Psalms (though not necessarily David's) and I'm not sure which numbers... I sort of rearranged the phrases a bit. I used the NIV in case you want to find one of the lines...
HAND
Your hands made me and formed me
Do not utterly forsake me.
Though I constantly take my life in my hands
do not let my hopes be dashed.
Your decrees are the theme of my song wherever I lodge.
Give me understanding—
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
My eyes are fixed on you
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there, your hand will guide me.
the eyes of all who look to you
you give them their food at the proper time
you open your hand and satisfy the desires
of every living thing.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
some thoughts on songwriting and being a copycat
When the distant world (Metro Detroiters) started to hand me Regina Spektor examples, I stepped back a second. The first time I listened to her I was afraid of her because I knew I'd want to just copy what she does. So I listened to her for a little bit and then stepped off. About a month later I wrote a song that goes a little something like this:
"Darlin darlin darlin darlin darlin are you satisfied with me? (x3)
Everything I do is outta love for you
Darlin darlin darlin darlin darlin are you satisfied?
Honey honey honey honey honey why you comin home so late? (x3)
you hang your coat and then straight to the tv den
honey honey honey honey honey why you coming home?"
And so on for three more verses. The guitar for that song is repetative and simple and it's really just me playing around with my voice. Or playing a game: how many note patterns can I find with these words before I start to clash with the background picking and if I do let myself clash, then when happens?
Then I realized that I was copying Regina Spektor, even though I had barely listened to her. Then the thought crossed my mind, and this was totally liberating, "Who cares?"
I decided to just let myself be influenced. Not by the pop-whines I hear in Thai but by what I want to be influenced by and not care.
Once upon a time I played a song about the Redford theater in Lisa's garage and she said "Dan Kahn?" when I finished and I almost started crying. I thought I'd been ruined because she was right, it sounded like "Coney Island" but not as good and if he heard my Old Redford song he'd scoff at me. I didn't think about how Dan Kahn sometimes impersonates Tom Waits when he's playing. (Though it might be different when it's your friend's style you're macking off of..?)
So about three or five months ago or something, I decided not to care. I'd listen to Regina Spektor and people can compare me to her or not or whatever. They can say I sound like I'm trying to be Joan Baez and I'll live. Seriously folks, this fear has made me want to stop songwriting.
Where does this fear come from? Definitely from my place as a younger sibling. I'm not sure if my brother ever did yell at me to stop copying him, but I've never babysat for someone who had a younger sibling who didn't yell at the younger sibling to stop copying. It has always been a terrifying prospect to me, that I might copy Ian. I always told that older sibling to leave the younger one alone and to take the compliment.
I guess we'l never be able to copy someone directly. And we'll never be able to come out completely original. It's best to just listen to the tunes and while listening, absorb. Later on we might go back to our songs and say, "Sheesh, I was listening to a lot of Jolie Holland at that time," but we'll never admit that. Or maybe we will.
If we ever get big enough to have an audience and a reviewer, we'll have to expect comparisons. I think if I ever get interviewed and someone asks me who I think I sound like I'll just say a mix between my mom's voice and my dad's.
This is from a Regina Spektor Interview:
So I’m guessing when you sit down to write music, you don’t go to yourself “Ok I have to make sure I don’t sound like this”?
No, no, actually it’s almost the opposite, like “I want to sound like this.” Because I always loved learning to copy voices. Like when I listened to Ella Fitzgerald the first time I would sing for hours and hours until I would get certain intonations a certain way. Or when I did Piaf I would try to get the accent the right way or I would listen to Patsy Kline and I would try to get a certain yodeler thing in my throat. I love finding stuff that people can do and trying to find it in my own vocal chords…like within my body. But it’s not like “I’m gonna write a song in the style of…”
But you can pull little things from other people. I was just talking about this with someone last night. It’s like being little thieves…but thieves of like, putting out feelers, like every time you watch a movie or look at people have a conversation—you’re just like stealing little specimens to use later. But you are an honorable thief and that’s the world of it, and other people are doing it and you see them and have a little nod with them, and it’s good. I guess thieving is the wrong word but it’s just filling yourself up with it all—consuming it.
"Darlin darlin darlin darlin darlin are you satisfied with me? (x3)
Everything I do is outta love for you
Darlin darlin darlin darlin darlin are you satisfied?
Honey honey honey honey honey why you comin home so late? (x3)
you hang your coat and then straight to the tv den
honey honey honey honey honey why you coming home?"
And so on for three more verses. The guitar for that song is repetative and simple and it's really just me playing around with my voice. Or playing a game: how many note patterns can I find with these words before I start to clash with the background picking and if I do let myself clash, then when happens?
Then I realized that I was copying Regina Spektor, even though I had barely listened to her. Then the thought crossed my mind, and this was totally liberating, "Who cares?"
I decided to just let myself be influenced. Not by the pop-whines I hear in Thai but by what I want to be influenced by and not care.
Once upon a time I played a song about the Redford theater in Lisa's garage and she said "Dan Kahn?" when I finished and I almost started crying. I thought I'd been ruined because she was right, it sounded like "Coney Island" but not as good and if he heard my Old Redford song he'd scoff at me. I didn't think about how Dan Kahn sometimes impersonates Tom Waits when he's playing. (Though it might be different when it's your friend's style you're macking off of..?)
So about three or five months ago or something, I decided not to care. I'd listen to Regina Spektor and people can compare me to her or not or whatever. They can say I sound like I'm trying to be Joan Baez and I'll live. Seriously folks, this fear has made me want to stop songwriting.
Where does this fear come from? Definitely from my place as a younger sibling. I'm not sure if my brother ever did yell at me to stop copying him, but I've never babysat for someone who had a younger sibling who didn't yell at the younger sibling to stop copying. It has always been a terrifying prospect to me, that I might copy Ian. I always told that older sibling to leave the younger one alone and to take the compliment.
I guess we'l never be able to copy someone directly. And we'll never be able to come out completely original. It's best to just listen to the tunes and while listening, absorb. Later on we might go back to our songs and say, "Sheesh, I was listening to a lot of Jolie Holland at that time," but we'll never admit that. Or maybe we will.
If we ever get big enough to have an audience and a reviewer, we'll have to expect comparisons. I think if I ever get interviewed and someone asks me who I think I sound like I'll just say a mix between my mom's voice and my dad's.
This is from a Regina Spektor Interview:
So I’m guessing when you sit down to write music, you don’t go to yourself “Ok I have to make sure I don’t sound like this”?
No, no, actually it’s almost the opposite, like “I want to sound like this.” Because I always loved learning to copy voices. Like when I listened to Ella Fitzgerald the first time I would sing for hours and hours until I would get certain intonations a certain way. Or when I did Piaf I would try to get the accent the right way or I would listen to Patsy Kline and I would try to get a certain yodeler thing in my throat. I love finding stuff that people can do and trying to find it in my own vocal chords…like within my body. But it’s not like “I’m gonna write a song in the style of…”
But you can pull little things from other people. I was just talking about this with someone last night. It’s like being little thieves…but thieves of like, putting out feelers, like every time you watch a movie or look at people have a conversation—you’re just like stealing little specimens to use later. But you are an honorable thief and that’s the world of it, and other people are doing it and you see them and have a little nod with them, and it’s good. I guess thieving is the wrong word but it’s just filling yourself up with it all—consuming it.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
calligram
A poem that makes a shape
OH NO
I don’t
like Eve
I believe
I coulda
done bet
ter. yes
I belie
ve I cou
lda done
and we
‘d all be
there pa
in free
yes in
deed eat
in’ fruits
and prun
in’ trees
if I’da
seen th
at snake
I’da kn
own I’d
a give
n him the
world’s first
DEATH
I don’t
like Eve
I believe
I coulda
done bet
ter. yes
I belie
ve I cou
lda done
and we
‘d all be
there pa
in free
yes in
deed eat
in’ fruits
and prun
in’ trees
if I’da
seen th
at snake
I’da kn
own I’d
a give
n him the
world’s first
DEATH
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Bouts-Rimes
French for “rhymed ends.” It takes two people to make. One person sits down and lists rhyming words and the other takes those words and makes rhymed lines in the same order the rhymes were given. Requires “wit and mental agility.”
I had my boyfriend supply the rhymes:
scotch notch
will pill
grit mitt
broth moth
jack mack
fun run
over clover
great mate
bravery knavery
chose prose
At the quilted tablecloth she stirred her milk and scotch.
I would have been shouting if I raised my voice a notch.
“Each decision carried out,” she moaned, “becomes an act of will;
from folding heavy laundry to taking every pill.”
Before she’d had her freedom she’d had her share of grit;
her life smacked into a pop-up before it landed in a mitt.
I slipped into her tales while I sipped her onion broth
deciding she’s a butterfly (though she’d say she’s a moth).
If at the end we find the man who gave the beans to Jack
was the same who handed the bloody knife to Mack,
she won’t be surprised. She predicted all the fun
would become the very thing that made her drop it all and run.
And that’s all she can ruminate before her life is over;
she won’t pretend her shamrock was a four-leaf clover.
But in my eyes her shamrock is as intricate and great
as luck itself. Her thorn: her deceased mate
whose memory jabs the flesh of her mind. His bravery,
which won her heart, was blotted by his knavery.
“Maybe everything ain’t go the way I know I would have chose.”
Some moments are librettos slapped into a stretch of prose.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
blues poem
In case you need a label like my brother puts on his pictures, that's John Lee Hooker. A form derived from blues music. There are two kinds of blues poems. The first has no typical form but has blues content. The second might as well be lyrics to a blues song
Stanzas are typically the same line twice and then a third line that rhymes with the other ones. There’s often some slight variation with the first two lines.
Because the blues is one of my top favorite things in the world, I've posted three blues poems/song lyrics I've written. They go from latest to oldest.
NATURE BLUES
I came home one morning and found our house was gone
I came home one morning and found our house was gone
I couldn’t hardly tell what side the street I’s on.
I’da been back there just the other day
I’da been back there just the other day
Built a little sandbox for my babies to play
I went away on business, came back to mud and sand
I went away on business, came back to mud and sand
How God could let this happen, I just don’t understand
Aunty says her babies were playin in the road
Aunty lost her babies playing in the road
The road became a river, that’s the story she told.
I came home one morning and found our house was gone
I came home one morning and found our house was gone
I can’t hardly tell what side my life is on.
MEMORY BLUES
So you say you walked the streets calling out my name
So you say you walked the streets calling out my name
If you thought I’d smile to see you, baby that’s a shame
You disappeared one sunny morning
Now you come back to my door
Expecting me to get all weepy
Well I ain’t gon’ cry no more
It’s been years now honey, won’t you let me go my way
It’s been years now honey, won’t you let me go my way
There ain’t nothing about me same as yesterday
You disappeared one foggy morning
Now you come back to my door
Expecting me to get all weepy
Well I ain’t gon’ cry no more
You say you gotta memory of me I can’t recall
You say you gotta memory I’m sure I don’t recall
You said I told you that I loved you…
…I don’t remember that at all.
PORCH BLUES
(listen)
a quote from my next president
"I like to believe that for Lincoln it was never a matter of abandoning conviction for the sake of expediency,” Obama writes. “Rather . . . that we must talk and reach for common understandings, precisely because all of us are imperfect and can never act with the certainty that God is on our side.”
That's from the New Yorker. You can read the whole (wonderful) article here:
http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2007/05/07/070507fa_fact_macfarquhar
Thanks, Zeile!
That's from the New Yorker. You can read the whole (wonderful) article here:
http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2007/05/07/070507fa_fact_macfarquhar
Thanks, Zeile!
Monday, April 30, 2007
i miss
salsa
sports on television
yelling at comerica park
the little coffee shop near joel's
hannan house
making verbal wisecracks that are fully understood
chris m. on the guitar
youtube
the way my uncle paul tilts his head when he hits a high note
good music
the dia
life without humongous bugs
smoke rising in dale's living room
i don't miss
noting gas prices
food without spice
jackets
life without public transport options
life without so many green tea options
grocery shopping
doing laundry
socks
salsa
sports on television
yelling at comerica park
the little coffee shop near joel's
hannan house
making verbal wisecracks that are fully understood
chris m. on the guitar
youtube
the way my uncle paul tilts his head when he hits a high note
good music
the dia
life without humongous bugs
smoke rising in dale's living room
i don't miss
noting gas prices
food without spice
jackets
life without public transport options
life without so many green tea options
grocery shopping
doing laundry
socks
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Blank Verse
Ten syllable lines that don’t rhyme. Made famous by Marlowe; lit up and smoked by Shakespeare. People still use them. Usually they’re used to tell stories.
Above Kreunteap,* out on a balcony,
we listened to the call of mutts below
and ate Pad Thai prepared upon a plugged-in
pan. We laughed in broken language. I learned
what they’ve done to my native tongue or call
my native land: in Thai, “Uncle Sam City.”
We laughed until she asked in broken English,
“How about your native people?” Chilis
lost their kick and I looked to the hazed moon
to smile upon my mind with a response.
“The natives that are left,” I said, “live alone,
on reserved land.”
. . . . . . . . “Why?”
. . . . . . . . . . . “The settlers forced them.”
I was the first to tell them of the Trail
of Tears. They sat in silence at the thought
of so much bloodshed; our national debt.
The King, I’m told, once redesigned the roads
of Kreunteap from his hospital window.
The King could find no rest when, below,
his people were stuck in traffic. He loved them
and couldn’t leave them, not one, behind.
(*Kreunteap=what natives call Bangkok. It means, “City of Angels.” The shortened name is, “Kreunteap a ha nakorn” but the actual name is about 30 times as long…
I had to put the dots in because the blogger wouldn't publish my spaces. Argh.)
Thursday, April 05, 2007
This is what I do on my downtime between teaching people English... I will take this time because later on it might be fun to read... when I'm in a different phase of life. you know...
"ology" Survey
MOUTHOLOGY
Q. What is your salad dressing of choice?
Tahini
Q. What is your favorite fast food restaurant?
Once upon a time when Fast Food other than McDonalds was available, I sure liked Taco Bell.
Q. What is your favorite sit-down restaurant?
My Little Indian. Actually it's called "Happy Food." It's a Burmese-run Indian food joint on someone's "porch" near my building. It's delicious and cheeeeeeap.
Q. On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant?
No tipping in Thailand. Once upon a time I tipped usually around 20%, never less unless the service was exceptionally terrible.
Q. What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick off of?
Graham Crackers. I'm pretty sure I know from experience?
Q. What are your pizza toppings of choice?
Ham and Mushroom. Still my favorite.
Q. What do you like to put on your toast?
Nutella
Q. What is your favorite type of gum?
Double Mint and Bazooka for the lucky numbers.
TECHNOLOGY
Q. Number of contacts in your cell phone?
Less than 20, now that I had to get a new one. None of you are in it!
Q. Number of contacts in your email address book?
Hell if I know.
Q. What is your wallpaper on your computer?
Joel and Nora at the Tiger's Game. The one where I'm wearing braids and he's looking a little older than usual and we look sick. But I love that picture!
Q. How many televisions are in your house?
There is a television in my abode? I nearly forgot.
Q. Are you right-handed or left-handed?
Right handed
Q. Do you like your smile?
my teeth could be a little smaller...
Q. What's your best feature?
my wit, when it's working.
Q. Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
teeth and skin and earwax... dirt and sweat.
Q. Which of your five senses do you think is keenest?
well, since I wear glasses and am partially deaf, have hard skin and bad sinuses... That leaves my sense of ESP?
Q. When was the last time you had a cavity?
I dont know... I'm not really sure if I've ever had one. I've had fillings for what the dentist said were only cavity threats. yeah, i'm confused too.
Q. What is the heaviest item you lifted last?
Okay, this is really the most random question I've ever seen on one of these atroicious things. The last heavy thing i lifted, i guess, was my guitar and case... it gets heavy when i walk it half a mile up the road to our church.
Q. Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
i don't remember. ha.
BULL[shit]OLOGY
Q. If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
no.
Q. Is love for real?
why wouldn't it be?
Q. If you could change your first name, what would you change it to?
I think I'd keep my name, but... I am loving some of these Thai names: Siripan, Chirasak, Teerawat, Naremon, etc.
Q. What color do you think looks best on you?
I like green on me. Other people seem to like pink.
Q. Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
Um. not that i can remember. Is gum a non food item? Probably ants and mosquitoes and spiders in my sleep.
Q. Have you ever saved someone's life?
not that i can remember. i've more often put lives in danger, i'm sure.
Q. Has someone ever saved yours?
when i first came here, p'nui saved me from so many cars coming at me from unexpected directions. and i think my brother might have saved me from drowning...
DAREOLOGY
Q. Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000?
no doubt
Q. Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
sure
Q. Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?
no way
Q. Would you never blog again for $50,000?
yep, though i'm hoping it would sadden people who keep in touch with me that way, being all the way over here.
Q. Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
$250,000... yeah i'd do it.
Q. Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
all at once? yes, but i would do it so slowly...
Q. Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000?
nope.
Q. Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000?
for 10 years!
DUMBOLOGY
Q: What is in your left pocket?
air
Q: Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
Yes, because of Pedro. Because of Pedro's Pinata.
Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
linoleum.
Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower?
um, does any one NOT stand? cripples?
Q: Could you live with roommates?
I'm liking the alone thing but I'm not picky.
Q: How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
I live in Thailand, where they are essential. I have two pairs here and I think 1 pair in Detroit.
Q: Where were you born?
Sinai.
Q: Last time you had a run-in with the cops?
When that jerk broke Joel's mirror. I'm still mad.
Q: Who is number 1 on your top 8
P'JoEL I wish he'd change his Myspace name to that.
LASTOLOGY
Q: Last person you called?
Called... hm. Tee.
Q: Person you hugged?
The pastor's wife.
FAVORITOLOGY
Q: Number?
24--how old i was when i came to thailand, the name of my road in thailand, and in thai it's "ee'sip'see"
Q: Color?
blue
Q: Season?
autumn. sob!
CURRENTOLOGY
Q: Missing someone?
more than one someone
Q: Mood?
super excited
Q: Listening to?
Thai pop in the background of the office. It's terrible. Don't try it at home.
Q: Watching?
My coworkers crack up at something... Don't ask me what.
Q: Worrying about?
Nothing. I quit worrying.
RANDOMOLOGY
Q: First place you went this morning?
To find P'Nui's lost shirt. The laundry ladies lost it and I had to retrieve it. I borrowed her shirt because I had a meeting. 2 meetings. and I needed her suits.
Q: What can you not wait to do?
I'm pretty excited about many things. One is talking to Bose on the phone tonight. Another is cooking with the P's tonight on P'G's 21st floor... great view; great times. Maybe... sometimes the P's change their minds. But of COURSE I'm most excited about saturday!!
Q: What's the last movie you saw?
Last night I watched this Jennifer Love Hewitt Indie movie called "If Only" and I can't decide if I enjoyed it or not. I definitely don't love her but maybe the movie was decent?
Q: Do you smile often?
YES. Especially when I think of how soon it will be that I will see Joel.
Q: Are you a friendly person?
Yep.
Q: Now that the survey's done what are you going to do?
Go home and change my shoes. And then hopefully off to Big C to buy stuff to make Jambalaya!
"ology" Survey
MOUTHOLOGY
Q. What is your salad dressing of choice?
Tahini
Q. What is your favorite fast food restaurant?
Once upon a time when Fast Food other than McDonalds was available, I sure liked Taco Bell.
Q. What is your favorite sit-down restaurant?
My Little Indian. Actually it's called "Happy Food." It's a Burmese-run Indian food joint on someone's "porch" near my building. It's delicious and cheeeeeeap.
Q. On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant?
No tipping in Thailand. Once upon a time I tipped usually around 20%, never less unless the service was exceptionally terrible.
Q. What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick off of?
Graham Crackers. I'm pretty sure I know from experience?
Q. What are your pizza toppings of choice?
Ham and Mushroom. Still my favorite.
Q. What do you like to put on your toast?
Nutella
Q. What is your favorite type of gum?
Double Mint and Bazooka for the lucky numbers.
TECHNOLOGY
Q. Number of contacts in your cell phone?
Less than 20, now that I had to get a new one. None of you are in it!
Q. Number of contacts in your email address book?
Hell if I know.
Q. What is your wallpaper on your computer?
Joel and Nora at the Tiger's Game. The one where I'm wearing braids and he's looking a little older than usual and we look sick. But I love that picture!
Q. How many televisions are in your house?
There is a television in my abode? I nearly forgot.
Q. Are you right-handed or left-handed?
Right handed
Q. Do you like your smile?
my teeth could be a little smaller...
Q. What's your best feature?
my wit, when it's working.
Q. Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
teeth and skin and earwax... dirt and sweat.
Q. Which of your five senses do you think is keenest?
well, since I wear glasses and am partially deaf, have hard skin and bad sinuses... That leaves my sense of ESP?
Q. When was the last time you had a cavity?
I dont know... I'm not really sure if I've ever had one. I've had fillings for what the dentist said were only cavity threats. yeah, i'm confused too.
Q. What is the heaviest item you lifted last?
Okay, this is really the most random question I've ever seen on one of these atroicious things. The last heavy thing i lifted, i guess, was my guitar and case... it gets heavy when i walk it half a mile up the road to our church.
Q. Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
i don't remember. ha.
BULL[shit]OLOGY
Q. If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
no.
Q. Is love for real?
why wouldn't it be?
Q. If you could change your first name, what would you change it to?
I think I'd keep my name, but... I am loving some of these Thai names: Siripan, Chirasak, Teerawat, Naremon, etc.
Q. What color do you think looks best on you?
I like green on me. Other people seem to like pink.
Q. Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
Um. not that i can remember. Is gum a non food item? Probably ants and mosquitoes and spiders in my sleep.
Q. Have you ever saved someone's life?
not that i can remember. i've more often put lives in danger, i'm sure.
Q. Has someone ever saved yours?
when i first came here, p'nui saved me from so many cars coming at me from unexpected directions. and i think my brother might have saved me from drowning...
DAREOLOGY
Q. Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000?
no doubt
Q. Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
sure
Q. Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?
no way
Q. Would you never blog again for $50,000?
yep, though i'm hoping it would sadden people who keep in touch with me that way, being all the way over here.
Q. Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
$250,000... yeah i'd do it.
Q. Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
all at once? yes, but i would do it so slowly...
Q. Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000?
nope.
Q. Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000?
for 10 years!
DUMBOLOGY
Q: What is in your left pocket?
air
Q: Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
Yes, because of Pedro. Because of Pedro's Pinata.
Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
linoleum.
Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower?
um, does any one NOT stand? cripples?
Q: Could you live with roommates?
I'm liking the alone thing but I'm not picky.
Q: How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
I live in Thailand, where they are essential. I have two pairs here and I think 1 pair in Detroit.
Q: Where were you born?
Sinai.
Q: Last time you had a run-in with the cops?
When that jerk broke Joel's mirror. I'm still mad.
Q: Who is number 1 on your top 8
P'JoEL I wish he'd change his Myspace name to that.
LASTOLOGY
Q: Last person you called?
Called... hm. Tee.
Q: Person you hugged?
The pastor's wife.
FAVORITOLOGY
Q: Number?
24--how old i was when i came to thailand, the name of my road in thailand, and in thai it's "ee'sip'see"
Q: Color?
blue
Q: Season?
autumn. sob!
CURRENTOLOGY
Q: Missing someone?
more than one someone
Q: Mood?
super excited
Q: Listening to?
Thai pop in the background of the office. It's terrible. Don't try it at home.
Q: Watching?
My coworkers crack up at something... Don't ask me what.
Q: Worrying about?
Nothing. I quit worrying.
RANDOMOLOGY
Q: First place you went this morning?
To find P'Nui's lost shirt. The laundry ladies lost it and I had to retrieve it. I borrowed her shirt because I had a meeting. 2 meetings. and I needed her suits.
Q: What can you not wait to do?
I'm pretty excited about many things. One is talking to Bose on the phone tonight. Another is cooking with the P's tonight on P'G's 21st floor... great view; great times. Maybe... sometimes the P's change their minds. But of COURSE I'm most excited about saturday!!
Q: What's the last movie you saw?
Last night I watched this Jennifer Love Hewitt Indie movie called "If Only" and I can't decide if I enjoyed it or not. I definitely don't love her but maybe the movie was decent?
Q: Do you smile often?
YES. Especially when I think of how soon it will be that I will see Joel.
Q: Are you a friendly person?
Yep.
Q: Now that the survey's done what are you going to do?
Go home and change my shoes. And then hopefully off to Big C to buy stuff to make Jambalaya!
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
ballade
Mostly used by the French in the 14th and 15th centuries. Complicated as hell (see picture attached to the "judgement" post for an illustration of how complicated this is). Stresses rhyme.
Form:
Three stanzas and a short one (envoi). The envoi addresses an important person or sums up the meaning of the poem.
Each stanza has eight lines. They follow the same rhyme scheme and use the same rhymes. The Rhyme Scheme is: ababbcbC ababbcbC ababbcbC bcbC. C is always the same line.
Other forms:
ababbccdcD, ababbccdcD, ababbccdcD, ccdcD
Twelve line stanzas, six line envoi
Double ballade: six stanzas of eight, ten, or twelve lines but no envoi.
Each stanza has eight lines. They follow the same rhyme scheme and use the same rhymes. The Rhyme Scheme is: ababbcbC ababbcbC ababbcbC bcbC. C is always the same line.
Other forms:
ababbccdcD, ababbccdcD, ababbccdcD, ccdcD
Twelve line stanzas, six line envoi
Double ballade: six stanzas of eight, ten, or twelve lines but no envoi.
(I took a shot at the standard one...)
In the darkest corner of an unborn heart
(where phantoms asleep with fantasies
stifle glimmers of a new start),
You wait. A grove of dead trees,
still in a violent breeze
reach softly to a sky
of stars. In post-disease,
let them listen to creation’s cry.
Behind the grove in a broken down cart,
painted red with a missing wheel, she lies
staring at nighttime clouds. Quiet Mozart
fills her chest with perfect harmonies.
In the pile of documentaries
this world keeps secret, she’ll try
for dreams—in broadcast pleas,
let them listen to creation’s cry.
Backstage before the play will start:
cracked mirror make-up sessions. She’s
barely memorized her bit part
and not a one to wing it. In balconies,
angels and zombies give silent cheers; the Marquis’
announcement soon to be a lie.
When these shows are forgotten entities,
let them listen to creation’s cry.
You stepped on every species.
In all forgotten forests, you hide
your solemn footprints for blinded men to see.
Let them listen to creation’s cry
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Okay, so I am totally missing music shows. I wrote this poem for my exchange with Bethany but sort of liked it so I'm posting it here, too. Not so sure about the year for the stones...
MUSIC WORSHIP
florescent sweat, ochre heat
and the bass rhythm grabs us
by our sticky shirts and takes us
where we forget and submit
by closing our eyes. we forget
the stench and dripping bodies
smashed into us on every side
some take trips but the sound is enough
to spark images of calm. a soft voice
amplified to an echo
followed by a cheer
finished by that one who
always roars a yeeah to ignite
the snare drum count-off
and we blast off and we
shake in rhythm because we
are invisible beneath the spotlights
on someone else
at the rock and roll hall of fame
i learned there was a movement
in my parent's time
against the satanic forces
in electric guitars. acid children
climaxing on musicwas not
the way to heaven.
when my father found jesus
he gave away his 1969 stones tour tickets.
he couldn't worship them anymore.
my brother finds jesus again
and again at u2 concerts,
saw him, for the first time,
worship:
hands in the air,
eyes closed,
he flew out of the arena.
when i sing alone
to a city beyond glass
and an omnipresent god,
i am invisible under the spotlight
on someone else.
MUSIC WORSHIP
florescent sweat, ochre heat
and the bass rhythm grabs us
by our sticky shirts and takes us
where we forget and submit
by closing our eyes. we forget
the stench and dripping bodies
smashed into us on every side
some take trips but the sound is enough
to spark images of calm. a soft voice
amplified to an echo
followed by a cheer
finished by that one who
always roars a yeeah to ignite
the snare drum count-off
and we blast off and we
shake in rhythm because we
are invisible beneath the spotlights
on someone else
at the rock and roll hall of fame
i learned there was a movement
in my parent's time
against the satanic forces
in electric guitars. acid children
climaxing on musicwas not
the way to heaven.
when my father found jesus
he gave away his 1969 stones tour tickets.
he couldn't worship them anymore.
my brother finds jesus again
and again at u2 concerts,
saw him, for the first time,
worship:
hands in the air,
eyes closed,
he flew out of the arena.
when i sing alone
to a city beyond glass
and an omnipresent god,
i am invisible under the spotlight
on someone else.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Judge
Today I woke up with some funny questions:
1) Does Jesus ever talk about our judgement apart from when we judge others? (I.E, does he ever mention that we're judged for any other reason than judging others?)
2) Is judgement talked about differently in the OT and the NT?
I hate to use the Bible in concordance fashion... I'd rather just read it through and find out for
myself what Judgement is in the Bible and if the nature of it changed with Jesus' blood. Even so, I used the concordance here to get a general idea of what judgement is in the Bible:
I don't want to say too much here because it's highly likely that I have certain ideas that I used that bit of information to back up, rather than having an openess to recieve the truth. I confess, I didn't even pray before I read that. But I will pray about those questions, plus the general question of what the hell is Judgement, anyway?
Joel is bringing my big study Bible with cross-references to Thailand. I'm planning, for the first time, to get through the entire Old Testament. I have two weeks to prepare for studying that chunk I tend to avoid or give up on. In the meantime, I will try to prepare through questions and prayer.
I have had two conversations regarding judgement lately. The first left my friend and me with the unanswered question, is it our responsibility to call-out our friends when we think they need corrections? The second conversation was finished with either a question or a statement: the difference between telling someone they are going to hell and telling someone to go to hell.
Is telling someone they are going to hell a judgement? (ha, I will never tell anyone that, but still...)
Does anyone really say, "go to hell" and really believe that they have the power to send them to hello, anyway?
And am I going to get creamed for judging people for judging?
Okay... I'll leave you all with that.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Ballads
Tell exciting stories, usually about lost love. Set to eerie tunes. They are a way to express strong feelings from a tragic event. Traditional British ballads are written with four line stanzas--lines 2 and 4 have 3 beats and rhyme. Literary ballads are written to be said, not sung. Images are key in either form.
I have posted two ballads here--both set to music (however, I haven't applied music yet to the second one...)
BALLAD OF THE FAIR WEATHER LOVEThe clouds do gather here, my love,
and darken the midday sky.
The rain will come down soon, my love,
and wash away the day light
Do you remember yesterday
when happier songs were sung?
Do you remember what you said
when day had just begun?
You said you’d love me for all time;
you’d never leave my side.
Now you’re packing up your things
(your words emerge to lies).
How can I learn to breathe again
as I breathed with your ear to my chest?
Will I learn to sleep again
in our cold and empty nest?
And when I hear those songs, my love,
the ones you sang to me
how can I keep from breaking down
at their piercing melodies?
What should I now say, my love
I’ll be happy when you’re gone?
How long must I wait, my love
before I can move on?
The clouds do gather here, my love,
and darken the midday sky.
The rain will come down soon, my love,
and wash away the daylight.
Find a warmer place, my love,
go where the sun does shine.
I’ll forget my fair-weather love
who loved me for a short time.
Here's my second stab at a ballad:
THE BALLAD OF C WALKER
when she walked into the room
when she came around
good people watched the floor
and no one made a sound
she raised her hand in sharing time
we tensed up in our chairs
she spoke and spoke till someone asked
if someone else would share
when she walked into the room
when she came around
good people turned their heads
and no one made a sound
she wailed along with Joplin
on a rainy Friday night
dancing with herself
her tumbling world took flight
she spoke to us for hours
but now that she’s dead
can we recall a single word
this shaking woman said?
her aching soul departed
in January gloom
where scribbled lists of prayers
were found in every room
good people look to heaven
in memory, confess
while we were forgetting her
she was praying for us
when she walks into the room
we’ll all fall to the ground
light from every limb
a song from every sound
thefollowingposthasbeenwrittenwiththaipunctuation
idon'twanttohearaprettyvoice ifiwanttohearaprettyvoicei'llgototheopera saysomethingwithyour prettyvoice don'tjustlistentoyourselfsing actuallysaysomething writesongstoconveyamessage idon'twanttolistentomyownideaswhenisingbutexpressmyideas musichasallsortsofpurposesbutletitnotbecreatedinordertoshowoff it'sthedifferencebetweenkarenberquistandcelinedion oneofthemanyway jonimitchellhadamessageandjoanbaezlikedthesoundofherownvoice dankahnandreginaspektorarestorytellers whatarewesayingwithourmusic bonostandsoutassomeonewithagreatvoiceandagreatmessage amicontributingtothestreamoramijustapuddle
ishakelikeateacupwhenihearmyselfsing
wilco
ishakelikeateacupwhenihearmyselfsing
wilco
Thursday, March 08, 2007
i miss:
nachos
the great lakes
daily interraction with children
a season without mosquitos
music shows
hot chocolate
baking cookies
slippers, a coat, and a cigarette
heaps of covers
cajun spices
i don't miss:
driving
memorizing lines
local news
thinking about one language at a time
wearing boots
beer
that van
unthawing feet
fast food drive thrus
socks
nachos
the great lakes
daily interraction with children
a season without mosquitos
music shows
hot chocolate
baking cookies
slippers, a coat, and a cigarette
heaps of covers
cajun spices
i don't miss:
driving
memorizing lines
local news
thinking about one language at a time
wearing boots
beer
that van
unthawing feet
fast food drive thrus
socks
