Poem of the Day VII

Illumination
by R.T. Smith from Split the Lark

As if some monk bored
in the cold scriptorium
had let his quill

wander from the morning
Gospel, two tendrils
of wisteria

have scrolled
their green fervour
into the weave of a wicker

deck chair to whisper
with each spiral,
every sweet leaf

and dew sparkle,
Brother, come
with us, come home.

© RT Smith, 1999

Sufjan Stevens

Wednesday night, Sufjan Stevens performed at The Fox in Atlanta. The Fox is a beautiful venue and very well kept. This is kind of bittersweet for a concert in my opinion, because while it’s a cool room to see a show in, people tend to be more reserved. Everyone sat and took in the show as if it were a symphonic performance (though Sufjan did have a string section and a brass section) only with loud cheering after each song, instead of gentle applause. I suppose his style of music lends itself to this environment, but I still felt funny sitting at a “rock” concert.

We arrived early enough to get in, grab a way overpriced plastic cup of Sweetwater 420 (the only beer available, it was that or a $10 shot of Jager), and find our seats before the opening act, My Brightest Diamond came out. The show was sponsored by Paste Magazine and so there was a table in the lobby handing out free copies of Paste. I had a strange Hitchcock style moment before the show when I looked around the room and saw everyone sitting quietly in their seats flipping through their free copies of Paste; the gentle rustling of pages as the only sound. Okay, I’m exaggerating, but it was definitely a mini-surreal moment.

My Brightest Diamond came out, led by Shara Worden, who is also a part of Sufjan’s band, promptly at 8pm. This was the first I had heard of MBD and while they had an interesting sound, they were more the background music to everyone’s arrival. People filed in, conversed, grabbed drinks, and made trips to the bathroom, which made concentration difficult. She caught most of the audience’s attention with her last few songs, though, which were more up beat.

After a brief intermission Sufjan and his 14 piece back-up band came out. All were wearing large colorful butterfly wings. In addition to his usual group of guitarist, bassist, and drummer, he hired a string section and brass section to round it all out. Instead of traveling with this many people, though, he hired different musicians in each of the cities he’s playing in. The groups receive sheet music prior to each show and then rehearse briefly beforehand, but that's it. It didn’t show, however, as the music and arrangements all went very well.

The show began with “Sister” from the album Seven Swans. This was a perfect song to start the show with, because it is an instrumental build for about 5 minutes, then cuts out and leaves Sufjan to sing and play piano. I could tell we were in for a good show.

The only problem occurred during “The Transfiguration”. The band was in full swing, when suddenly an ear shattering high pitched feedback shriek rocked the room. All of the band members jumped and nearly dropped their instruments. Sufjan mumbled a quiet, “uh, sorry” and ran off the stage. No one knew quite what to do, so to fill the new awkward silence there were intermittent screams from the audience. Soon the problem was fixed and the show was back on.

During the middle of the show, Sufjan took it down a notch playing the quiet, yet powerful songs, “Casimir Pulaski Day” and “John Wayne Gacy, Jr.” from Illinois. The songs truly show Sufjan’s lyrical genius. The former is a contemplation on a friend/girlfriend who is suffering from bone cancer. The characters in the song are young, probably high school, and when the girl finally passes away, the main character ponders the amazing Grace of the Lord, with the amazing pain we face in life:

All the glory that the Lord has made
And the complications when I see His face
In the morning in the window
All the glory when He took our place
But He took my shoulders, and He shook my face,
and He takes and He takes and He takes

The latter song mentioned above, “John Wayne Gacy, Jr.” is a startling portrayal of the serial killer mentioned in the title. With careful phrasing, Sufjan mentions the evils of this man only to finish with: “And in my best behavior / I am really just like him / Look beneath the floor boards / For the secrets I have hid.”

If this section of the performance showcased Sufjan’s lyrics, the next showcased his music. “Jacksonville” is a beautifully arranged song that utilized the full band. Then, arguably my favorite Sufjan song came, “The Predatory Wasp Of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us!” He prefaced the song with a short story about how it came from a time when he was at summer camp and was chased by a giant “bird wasp”. It was a funny story, told in a somewhat nervous manner. Perhaps it was the size of the room, or perhaps it was just his personality. At any rate, the song didn’t disappoint.

The evening finished with the title track from Illinois followed by a two song encore. All in all it was an excellent show and well worth the money. I’m excited to see what Sufjan comes out with next.

The Pope and Controversy

Last week Pope Benedict XVI made some comments in Germany that inflamed the Muslim world once again. This of course is nothing new. It seems that with increasing regularity there are reports of uprisings because of comments someone somewhere made about Islam or Mohammed. An article on the recent uprising and a short summary of other such events are listed here. These include Salman Rushdie for the publication of his novel The Satanic Verses, which portray Mohammed in an unfavorable light. A Fatwa was placed on his head and he went into hiding for the next couple of decades. He escaped murder, but unfortunately his Japanese translator wasn’t so lucky. It also mentions the more recent event involving the Danish cartoons. Most remember this bit of chaos, so I’ll refrain from any further explanation. So, what did the Pope say that made so many, so angry?

"Without descending to details, such as the difference in treatment accorded to those who have the 'Book' and the 'infidels', [Byzantine emperor Manuel II Paleologus] addresses his interlocutor with a startling brusqueness, a brusqueness which leaves us astounded, on the central question about the relationship between religion and violence in general, saying: 'Show me just what Mohammed brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached'. The emperor, after having expressed himself so forcefully, goes on to explain in detail the reasons why spreading the faith through violence is something unreasonable. Violence is incompatible with the nature of God and the nature of the soul. 'God', he says, 'is not pleased by blood - and not acting reasonably is contrary to God's nature. Faith is born of the soul, not the body. Whoever would lead someone to faith needs the ability to speak well and to reason properly, without violence and threats."

The offending point is, of course, the quote from Emperor Paleologus. Claiming that Islam has nothing new to offer except violence and evil is a bit over the top, but the Pope was not using it as his main point. It was simply an illustration of how violence should not be used to spread religion; instead it should be through reason and discourse. So, how did the offending parties respond? With a carefully worded rebuttal? Honest debate? No, they responded with this:

The Pope has since apologized for his remarks, which was perhaps the best course of action for a public leader to take, however, his point was made. The scary thing is that this violence is not just chaos, it has a goal in mind. The goal for the Islamofascist movement is an Islamic state where Sharia would be in place. One tenant of Sharia is that of Dhimmitude, which is a term used to allude to the conduct of non-muslims in a state ruled by Sharia. These inhabitants must submit and cede their individual rights such as free speech. We are not in an Islamic state, but the Islamofascist movement is winning on this point. While there is still criticism, many media outlets and public figures are afraid to say anything. After the Pope apologized, Iranian President Ahmadinejad said in an interview with Brian Williams of NBC: “I think that he actually takes back his statement. And there is no problem.” That’s precisely what’s scary: any criticism, any statement, anything at all not found favorable is unacceptable. Take it back, though, and there’s no problem. So much for reasoned discourse.

Senor Limpieza

I promise I'll post something more substantial soon, but I thought this was funny. Upon being asked if he did anything interesting yesterday, our warehouse manager replied, "nothing, just cleaned." This got me to thinking about the product "Mr. Clean" and how perhaps it's time for it to be a bit more ethnically diverse. A little boredom, a quick picture, and some photoshop work yielded this:
It would have been better, but the program crashed on me while making it and I had to start over from scratch. Oh well. Good way to kill some time.

Poem of the Day VI

Dostoevsky
by Charles Bukowski from Bone Palace Ballet: New Poems

against the wall, the firing squad ready.
then he got a reprieve.
suppose they had shot Dostoevsky?
before he wrote all that?
I suppose it woulnd't have
mattered
not directly.
there are billions of people who have
never read him and never
will.
but as a young man I know that he
got me through the factories,
past the whores,
lifted me high through the night
and put me down
in a better
place.
even while in the bar
drinking with the other
derelicts,
I was glad they gave Dostoevsky a
reprieve,
it gave me one,
allowed me to look directly at those
rancid faces
in my world,
death pointing its finger
I held fast,
an immaculate drunk
sharing the stinking dark with
my
brothers.

© 1997 by Linda Lee Bukowski

The End of an Era

The most impressive streak not just in baseball, but in all of professional sports, came to a quiet end just after midnight Wednesday. The New York Mets beat the Florida Marlins and mathematically eliminated the Braves from winning the division and the door closed on 14 straight Division Titles. Of course, everyone knew the Braves had no chance weeks ago, but the true fan always maintains that small glimmer of hope all the way to the bitter end. I’ve had a while to get used to the idea, so I’m not angry anymore. Now, I’m just taking the streak in. It’s been quite a ride and I couldn’t be prouder to have been a Braves fan through the whole thing.

What has made this extra special to anyone who has been in Atlanta long enough is the fact that the Braves were horrible until 1991 when this streak began. I remember going to Fulton County Stadium in the 80’s to a team that looked like the team from the movie Major League before they got good. Even the field itself was in disrepair since the Falcons also played there (and they weren’t much better back then). The games would barely draw enough fans to even make noise and any promotion that said: “First 10,000 fans receive a collectors Braves helmet” actually meant “Everyone Gets a Helmet Day”. You went to see Dale Murphy and Bob Horner and whoever the opposing team was. As bad as they were, though, I will always remember my first Braves game, my first baseball game, as a great day. That first moment of walking through the breezeway with baseball glove in hand and seeing the enormous field opening up before me was about the most beautiful site my young eyes had ever seen. Sunny day, baseball, hot dog…what could be better? From that moment on, for better or worse, I was a Braves fan.

Then 1991 came. The year before the Braves had finished in last place with the worst record in all of baseball. No one expected much this year either. At the All-Star Break the Braves were down 9 ½ games and it looked like more of the same. But they rallied and the season went down to the wire with the Braves clinching on October 5. Atlanta went crazy. I got to go to some playoff games and it was the most amazing magical experience. The stadium was packed and The Chant that would accompany the Tomahawk Chop would continue long after the drum rhythm on the PA would stop. The Braves went on to defeat the Pittsburg Pirates in 7 games in a very tense National League Championship Series (NLCS) and the unbelievable had happened: the Atlanta Braves were going to the World Series. The Braves lost a heartbreaker in the 7th game of the World Series to the Minnesota Twins, but in a way it didn’t matter. We weren’t losers anymore. The Braves got a ticker tape parade when they returned home and it was such a big deal we got to watch it on TV in school instead of doing our regular lessons.

Over the next 14 years winning was the name of the game. Season after season we came out on top of our division. There are many unforgettable moments: “The Catch” by Otis Nixon, Sid Bream lumbering around the bases for what seemed like an hour, all the Cy Young awards, the World Series win in 1995, watching Smoltz shut things down as a starter, then a closer, then a starter again. I could go on, and on.

It’s been such a long streak that people just began to assume the Braves would win. It was a given. Over this streak the Braves have had 272 players appear in at least one game. The only active Braves player to be there through it all is John Smoltz. The team has become a dynasty and credit is due in large part to Bobby Cox, the manager, and John Schuerholz, the GM. They have run an amazing team and done something never done before.

It may be over for this season, but there’s always next year. I think it’s about time to start a new streak. Congratulations on a great run, guys, and thanks for all the memories.

A World War

"On that day [September 11], we learned what we ought to have known already, which is that clerical fanaticism means to fight a war which can only have one victor. Afghans, Kurds, Kashmiris, Timorese and many others could have told us this from experience and for nothing (and did warn us, especially in the person of Ahmad Shah Massoud, leader of Afghanistan's Northern Alliance). Does anyone suppose that an ideology that slaughters and enslaves them will ever be amenable to 'us'?"

In this article, Christopher Hitchens nails the point that the war we are fighting is not just a war against “us” the United States, but a war against everyone who has suffered, been oppressed, or done battle with Islamic fundamentalism. I think that all too often we see this as “our” war and not the world war that it is. Of course it is right to mourn for our fallen, but there have been many fallen in many parts of the world at the hands of the same enemy. We should mourn together and find resolve and strength with our brothers and sisters in other oppressed regions.

You may not agree with the tactics that have been taken in this war or how it is being fought, but it is hard to disagree with the fact that there is a war. There have been many conspiracy theories that 9/11 was nothing more than a charade to allow consolidated power and a movement to a new world government by the elite. Personally, I think this enters tin foil hat territory, but I think it shows a certain naiveté in the population that people would be more willing to grasp onto a giant conspiracy theory to explain things instead of what is really happening. There is a real enemy that is not the stuff of graphic novels and pulp fiction.

The question is, how do we shake this image, and in some ways it is deserved, of the giant un-feeling hegemon? A hegemon we most certainly are, but this is a war that needs allies. In a battle such as this one even the smallest player has a role and we would be foolish to ignore any and all help that we can get.

Lost in Translation

I work for a company that manufactures and imports seasonal items that are then sold to retailers here in the US. We have an office in Taiwan and another office and a factory in China. We have daily email correspondence with both offices and while the English of the folks on the other end is very good, much better than I would ever do trying to communicate in Putonghua (yes, I realize how pretentious it is to use the official name instead of just “Chinese”); there are still some amusing translational missteps that occur.

Most of the time it is because of an alternate wording of a common phrase. One such incident occurred when it had come to the time of year when the customer was deciding what to buy for the next season. The factory obviously was becoming impatient when they sent over this line in the email: “please advise what color customer will decide finally on earth.” Sometimes, however, the final design of a product is left up to us, and we try many different options to decide which is the best to show the customer. During one of these design periods the factory inquired if they “could select and select till we are satisfactory?” It’s not all business, though, especially around holiday time warm pleasantries are exchanged. For example, last Christmas the email finished with a very nice salutation: “The Christmas is coming, Merry Christmas!”

Other times, humor comes not from the usage, but because an archaic term is used instead of a more standard one. I suppose their Chinese-to-English dictionary is a bit out of date since once they came up with: “please give us evincive information.” The usage here is actually correct, but evincive hasn’t been used much since the early 1900's.

Sometimes there isn’t any real logical reason for the misstep and what comes back is just funny. We asked the factory once to provide us with official scientific data on what would happen if a particular grill cover we were working on was left out in the sun. Product testing is a very common practice and all the retailers require it, so many times we like to do this ourselves in order to present the customer with results right from the start. Well, this time our scientific report came in and revealed the final result of the testing, nicely typed on official letterhead, of what would happen if the cover was left out in the sun. The page simply read: “it smell stink”.

My all time favorite example, however, came in an email one morning. We had been waiting on pricing information for an item and were expecting it that day. We knew we would have to wait a little longer, though, once we received this explanation: “the man who is in charge of quotation is overdrink this afternoon.” This is not only funny on several levels, but also gives some insight into Chinese linguistics. The word for “drunk” in Chinese is the character for “over” and the character for “drink”. More than this, though, I think the reason this is my favorite is because of how much I can identify with the guy. There have certainly been days where I (and I’m sure most of you who have worked in an office could agree) would have liked nothing more than to take off after lunch to go out and get good and overdrink. It’s nice to know that despite the language difference we still have a good bit in common with our friends in the Far East.

A Poem for September 11

For the Falling Man
by Annie Farnsworth from Bodies of Water, Bodies of Light

I see you again and again
tumbling out of the sky,
in your slate-grey suit and pressed white shirt.
At first I thought you were debris
from the explosion, maybe gray plaster wall
or fuselage but then I realized
that people were leaping.
I know who you are, I know
there's more to you than just this image
on the news, this ragdoll plummeting—
I know you were someone's lover, husband, daddy.
Last night you read stories
to your children, tucked them in, then curled into sleep
next to your wife. Perhaps there was small
sleepy talk of the future. Then,
before your morning coffee had cooled
you'd come to this; a choice between fire
or falling.
How feeble these words, billowing
in this aftermath, how ineffectual
this utterance of sorrow. We can see plainly
it's hopeless, even as the words trail from our mouths
—but we can't help ourselves—how I wish
we could trade them for something
that could really have caught you.

© Annie Farnsworth

Poem of the Day V

Happiness
by Raymond Carver from All of Us: the Collected Poems

So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.
When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.
they wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
they are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.
I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.
They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.
Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.
Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.

© 1985 by Raymond Carver

What Baseball is all About

Today Anibal Sanchez, a 22 year old Venezuelan rookie threw a no-hitter against the Arizona Diamondbacks. He's pitching for a very young Marlins team, which has done surprisingly well this year despite their off-season fire sale of talented players. They are only 3 games out of the wildcard race and 4 games ahead of my beloved Braves in the division. Everyone predicted them to finish last this year (and the Braves first...sigh), but this is why we play the games. With the endless talk on sports radio and ESPN one would think the season is over before it begins, but there are always surprises, which is what makes it so much fun.

After he made the final out, his teammates flooded the field and hoisted him on their shoulders. His wife was in attendance and after the game he said: "She was there," his eyes wet with tears of joy. "I don't know, I can't say any more. I love her, I love my family." He'll remeber this for the rest of his life. What a moment for a young athlete. These are the things that make sports exciting. Plus it will take people's minds off the last no-hitter in MLB, Randy Johnson's perfect game against the Braves in 2004.

Congratulations Anibal, and here's to a long career for you.

Writer's Almanac

The short biography below was copied straight from today’s Writer’s Almanac (the Garrison Keillor radio program). You can also subscribe to it and receive a poem and literary notes in your inbox every morning, which is a great way to start the day. Anyway, I typically like to add some commentary to the direct quotations I publish here, but this stands on its own. It’s quite heartening to read of people who struggle and succeed. I love the quote by Sebold at the end of this. I hope it inspires you today:

It's the birthday of the novelist Alice Sebold born in Madison, Wisconsin (1963). She grew up wanting to be a writer, and went to Syracuse University, where some of the best writers in America were teaching, including Raymond Carver and Tobias Wolff. But one night during her freshman year of college, Sebold was walking home when she was attacked, dragged into an underground tunnel, and raped. She thought that she was going to be murdered. When she later talked to the police, they said that a girl had recently been murdered in that same tunnel, and so she should consider herself lucky for having survived.

A few weeks later, Sebold spotted the rapist on the street, and she went to the police. He was arrested, and Sebold testified against him at trial. She was subjected to a brutal cross-examination by the defense attorney, and police later said that she was one of the best rape witnesses they had ever seen on the stand. The rapist was convicted and received the maximum sentence.

Sebold thought that the end of the trial would put the experience behind her, but for the next fifteen years she struggled to have relationships with other people, and she struggled to write. She tried going to graduate school and dropped out. She moved to New York and started drinking a lot and dabbling in drugs.

She decided a change of scenery might help, so she moved to California, and got a job as a caretaker of an arts colony, where she lived in a cabin without electricity, reading and writing at night by propane light. In the back of her mind she'd always thought about what those policeman had said to her about that other girl who had been murdered in that same tunnel. One day, Sebold sat down at her desk and began writing a story in the voice of a teenage girl who has been murdered, and in one sitting she wrote the entire opening of what would become her novel The Lovely Bones, about a murdered fourteen-year-old girl looking down from heaven as her family tries to recover from the grief of her death.

Sebold's agent had a hard time selling the novel, since most publishers were wary about a book narrated by a dead girl. But it was eventually picked up by Little, Brown, and it became a word-of-mouth sensation among booksellers and critics before it was even published. It came out in June of 2002, a few months before Sebold's thirty-ninth birthday. It sold more than 2 million copies, becoming the best-selling book in 2002.

Sebold has said in interviews that she was as surprised by the book's success as anyone. She said, "It's very weird to succeed at thirty-nine years old and realize that in the midst of your failure, you were slowly building the life that you wanted anyway."

Good Beer

I guess my top living songwriters post got me in a list making mood, so here I've posted 5 beers that I've found to be especially good. I'm always willing to add more to my list, but I've enjoyed these for a while now, and they never disappoint. Also, I'll take this opportunity to put in a plug for the best bar in the world...if you live in the Atlanta area or are passing through, be sure to stop at The Brick Store in Decatur. It will be well worth your time. So, without further delay, bring on the beer:

1. St. Bernardus Abt 12: this dark ivory colored beer is brewed at the Trappistenweg 23 monastery in Watou Belgium. It has a rich fruity flavor, which is characteristic of the Belgian ales. It is very complex and very different from what most Americans think of as "beer", but it is well worth trying. Only problem is you'll be hooked. Be careful, though, at 10.5% ABV (Alcohol By Volume) it can hit you pretty quick.


2. Dogfish Head 90-minute IPA: after this you'll never drink another IPA. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find this in Georgia. I picked up a six-pack in North Carolina this summer, and while I'm glad I did, I am now ruined for any other IPA. Like most IPA's it is quite hoppy, but this one is at a level seldom tasted. If you run across this be sure to pick some up for yourself (and for me).


3. Rogue Mocha Porter: the Rogue Brewery in Portland has a great selection of beers. In fact, the Brick Store Pub, mentioned above, always keeps a Rogue on tap. Of all the Rogue brews I've tried, though, this one is my favorite. It has a rich bittersweet chocolate flavor. It goes great with a meal or by itself. While dark, it goes down smooth and is not a "meal" in and of itself.

4. Three Philosophers: this Belgian style ale brewed at the Ommegang Brewery in Cooperstown, NY, which is also the location of the Baseball Hall of Fame. Good beer and baseball...what could be a better combination? Anyway, this beer has a rich fruity flavor and is the closest thing you'll come to a Belgian Abby ale outside Belgium. This also makes it easier to find. Most liquor stores will have Three Philosophers. You just have to hunt for it through all the Bud and Icehouse.


5. Samuel Adams Summer Ale: finally, I thought I'd finish off with a seasonal beer. Sam Adams is probably the best mainstream brewery around. You can find their beer at any grocery store or liquor store and they always have great seasonal brews. The Summer Ale is a wheat beer with a hint of lemon. It's a great tasting beer for a hot summer day. Be sure to pick up some quick, if there's any left, or else you'll be waiting for next season.

Poem of the Day IV

Things
Lisel Mueller from Alive Together: New and Selected Poems

What happened is, we grew lonely
living among the things,
so we gave the clock a face,
the chair a back,
the table four stout legs
which will never suffer fatigue.

We fitted our shoes with tongues
as smooth as our own
and hung tongues inside bells
so we could listen
to their emotional language,

and because we loved graceful profiles
the pitcher received a lip,
the bottle a long, slender neck.

Even what was beyond us
was recast in our image;
we gave the country a heart,
the storm and eye,
the cave a mouth
so we could pass into safety.

© Louisiana State University Press