Poem

Void and coincidence and blessing
at our heels; the right words at the wrong time
trip over stream rocks and cling to twigs.
Followed and hounded, we step into emptiness.
We cannot carry this heavy world
though at times it fits into the small of our backs.

Little Buddhas spread across the table top;
smoke signals from our fingertips;
find us here. Behind the ham and cobs,
we claim to know so much from this mud reflection.
We touch the tip of thank you. Gratitude won’t fit
into our mouths. The consonants and vowels we speak:
after all this time of presumed fluency, we’ve uttered
mispronunciation and misunderstanding.

Our names engraved heaven’s cemetery stones.
After we die, we reach our zombie hands—we blind creeps--
And feel for our identities in this dust where we’ve returned.
A breath of laughter encompasses all revelation. Speak to us
in days when lilies are enough.

Coupla Quotes

So, too, home for the three wise men and for us is not the manger where the light is gentle and God is a child. Peace is there, the peace that passes all understanding, but is not to be ours yet for a while. We also must depart into our country again, where peace is not found in escape from the battle but in the very heat of the battle. For outlandish creatures like us, on our way to a heart, brain, and courage, Bethlehem is not the end of our journey but only the beginning--not home but the place through which we must pass if ever we are to reach home at last.
--Frederick Buechner

I will understand
Everything has its plan
Either way.
--Wilco

Relationships

(This post is not about my wife or my mistress, although it's been a long time since I've had a decent conversation with either of them and I'm looking forward to finding some quality time with them. Someday. Some day.)

I've found that I've had to give myself pep-talks lately... here's what the latest one has been like--it comes from some talks I've had with Bose.

We don't always have control who we have connections with. Connections link and sever constantly. The healthiest way to go about these relationships is to pay close attention to the ones we're connected with now--not to think too much about the severed ones... (the ones that dropped you in the basement, alone, which happens to be a nice place to pray for them.)

Who is with you now? Dump God's love all over them. Who is fading out to the background? Distribute love (action of) according to the divine proximities that come about just from being. Simply being, moving on from one phase to the next, is bound to throw different folks your way. You'll grieve over the ones that get pushed into the background but don't spend too many of your thoughts on them. Don't break your arms off trying to touch people just out of your reach. Give your hands to the ones in your reach.

Because no one is out of the Lord's reach. Including yourself. You cannot be out of your Lord's reach.

Even if those who are supposed to be closest to you, your brothers even, even if those who are supposed to be your brothers beat you up and sell you off to be a slave in a foreign land... the Lord is with you.

Musician Challenge

Pick an artist: Wilco

Using only SONG NAMES from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions...no repeating song names...


1.) Are you a male or female?
I'm the man who loves you

2.) Describe your self.
Misunderstood

3.) Describe your day?
on and on and on

4.) Describe where you currently live:
What's the World Got in Store?

5.) If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
Impossible Germany

6.) Your best friend is:
Far Far Away

7.) Your favorite color is:
Pot Kettle Black

8.) You know that:
Less than you think

9.) What's the weather like?:
Red-eyed and blue.

10.) If your life was a television show, what would it be called?:
Kicking Television

11.) What is life to you?:
Airline to Heaven

12.) What is the best advice you have to give?:
Why would you wanna live?

13.) Describe your ex?:
Outtasite (Outtamind)

14.) Your current love interest?:
Dreamer in my Dreams

15.) What's your favorite hobby?
Wishful thinking

16.) When you think of your friends you think?:
The Late Greats

17.) What do your friends think of you?:
Shot in the arm

18.) What does your current love interest think of you?:
I Got You

19.) You always travel with?:
Jesus, etc.

20.) The best way to end a long day?:
Shake it Off

...we'd all eat tonight

i wish-

-i could, just for one day, choose the music we listen to in the office

-someone would build a sabor latino on my soi

-dale's bible study met on my soi

-wilco would come to bangkok

-joel would come back to bangkok

-i could concentrate on my story long enough to pump out a draft

-i had a friday night free again

-i could go to the store alone without wondering if i'd been scammed

-every song sounded as good as bongo bong

-every movie was as delightful as little miss sunshine

-americans loved badminton like thais love badminton

-i had a photographic memory

Gap

I watch P'Amata strut to P'Jar's desk and hautily relate a story about Choc in Thai. That's all I know, that it's about Choc. I heard his name and I can tell when she's speaking about her boyfriend because she throws her head back a little and adopts a sort of cutesy rhythm in her voice. P'Jar, I know, makes a dirty joke because she sniff's a bit and gets that glazed look on her face like she did something bad and then she grins and laughs at herself. P'Neung responds quite loud; his tenor voice rips through the office through chuckles. P'Amata is arguing with him now; arguing through a grin. Her hands aren't on her hips but her chin is up a bit, which is her equivalent. P'Nok Sirin joins the game and shouts from behind her desk, whining and giggling at the same time. Her giggle sounds like my Aunt Donna's--a high trill. Amata defends herself and shoots energy into her fists pointed to the ground. P'Nok gets louder. P'George doesn't seem like he's paying attention. He's glued to his screen with a disatisfied look on his face. Then he softly mutters something poignant and unemotional through an unchanged expression. This comment breaks everyone up with laughter which bounces off the walls. The crowded laughter lasts a good fifteen seconds.

My eyes fill up with tears. I don't expect this reaction but I'm used to it. I breathe deeply until the tears seep back into their ducts. I don't feel sad; I'm not going to bust out crying or anything, but I am isolated by the idea that even if I did understand what they were saying, I wouldn't understand in full because they have decades of context to bolster their language. This is why I don't burden anyone with a translation request. Instead, I just think about the relief of the campfire and jokes crackling up through the burning wood. I think about reciting Sendak books because I can, because I was in a children's musical that used them as the text. I think about Dale's living room and listening to a story about how his friends staged a pretend rapture with clothes on the dining room chairs. I think of Grandma Henry opening her cardinal and the tears that filled Uncle Paul's eyes. I remind myself that we all have our own.

Here's an interesting article I read about the Left Behind series, from the Salon.

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.)

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.

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.

dirty thainglish

"did you eat your fuk yet?"

(fuk is a thai vegetable and yet means fuck in thai)

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.

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

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.

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!

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

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.)

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!

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.

(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