Wallpaper (Nana)

My Nana was not fearless

at all. The way this story goes

when she was young was asked

to chaperon her brother and his fiancée

she refused to climb in the boat.

She feared she might drown:

“my brother, she said, has no idea

how to row or handle a boat”. True,

but this was the lake in the public garden.

The water so deep, it won’t pass over

the hips of a ten year old.



But she must fear God more

than she fears people. On beggars she

taught me: ”poor souls”.(She knew misery

in the world war.)She handed small coins as

she cut noodles or baked holy bread for service

My Nana, I need an answer glued

Wallpaper, picturepaper in my old album

"would she fear?" like I do

now that I faced the one

fake beggar , most pitiful robber

Since I had this unpleasant experience with a local panhandler which made me reconsider giving change to them. The problem I have now: this form of human compassion was part of my core…And of course there is organized giving. But this takes away this genuine spontaneous gesture you can make when feeling blessed and wishing to make others feel just the same way….

Note: my Nana was my great aunt . And, if you red this and are unfamiliar with the Byzantin rite, I shall point that to bake holy bread one has to be a virgin.

Human (2)

A single man

We are going to New York this week end and we know that for our movie night it is going to be Avatar.
Now, other than Avatar there are a few other movies on the Oscar list I’d like to see. And one I have been weighing on: ”A single man”. I recently read the book –and if I’d use only one word to describe it I’d use: human. As you’ll probably read from other reviews that the book covers (again) gay issues, I am not going to rest much on this fact. Yes, the book is about a gay man mourning the loss of his life time partner in a way that can be hard to explain, as he was not able to always mourn in public. but it is also about an old man fearing about the gap widening between him and the younger generations, fearing old people houses, wondering at a point about “his old teacher rambling”. Human fear, human bitterness… and also human tenderness in his relationship with Charley. And now I fear that as it happened for most of the books I loved, I will dislike the movie. I liked the trailer. I heard that both Colin firth and Julianne Moore did an amazing job… So maybe I shall see it.

Price Reduced Again

Julie’s poetry is just amazing in spite of her choice of simple language. Her eye for spotting the human touches in her troubled characters is well complemented by choice of language: alive, would be the best to describe She does remind of Grace Paley :”Poetry is too literary/…”
You can purchase her book, or read her poetry on her blog: the Buffaloe Pen.

Now, Julie does have a keen eye for people preserving their humanity during hardship. I am afraid I do not. This is why I might ended almost getting robed when trying to give a dollar to a panhandler. I am ok (and now I carry pepper spray too). But I am also scared to give change on the street because I could not possible say if the person in cause will not go crazy as it happened last time. And I also believed I should share my blessings, and I could give through organized institutions… but as much as these institutions do they lack the human touch. The ability to maybe , not just give but also listen… And I am angry, angry that she took it away for me. Angry because I do not feel I can overcome this fear…

diconnected

middle age

as she lets herself slide slowly into the middle aged bottomless pit, her body rounds, ripe for new emotions.

In Memoriam

And when I say "J.D, Salinger", you say what?


The Cather in the Rye, betcha'...



But when I noted this line on my Yahoo! email :

News Alert: J.D. Salinger, Author of 'The Catcher in the Rye' Is Dead at 91

I said "For Esmé - with Love and Squalor".

I was startled to read this news, once because J.D. Salinger died, and again that I only realized he had been still living all these years when I read the news of his death. Perhaps it was because  he never really existed for me. Did not knew a thing about Salinger as all I cared about was  this catcher in the rye.
Or I recalled Esmé's story because this was the first one of his stories I read? The one I recall each time when I receive a letter as friendly smile to pull me out of my own mess. The one I recalled when I was trying to yawn with my mouth closed as a proper girl will. The one I recall because:

" You take a really sleepy man, Esmé, and he always stands a chance of again becoming a man with all his fac-with all his f-a-c-u-1-t-i-e-s intact."