a mother's [poetry]

yesterday was mother's day, and with my sister being in town, we were both discussing ways we were thankful for our mom.

as much as we hated it at the time, my sister was thankful our mother never had any pop in the house. pop was reserved for special occasions, and vacations. i wouldn't go as far as to say i was "thankful" for this, but i do think it was a good idea. it kept us off sugar, and avoided indulging in unhealthy calories. however in college, i had my refrigerator stocked with dr. pepper non stop, eliminating any healthy benefits i gained as a child.

what i was thankful for, i didn't appreciate until just a few years ago. while waiting for the bus to pick us up for school, my mom would read shel silverstein poems to us. let me rephrase that, she didn't just read the poems, she would add voices and actions as well. if it was a particularly funny poem, she would burst into laughter upon finishing, making the poem all that more enjoyable for us.

now as a kid, i just thought they were funny poems. it wasn't until recently i started to appreciate shel's unique style. his poems and stories dealt with a lot of emotions and situations, ranging from death, fear, greed, and selfishness to peace, love, unity, and friendship, all presented though in a very "real" style, using slang, and even some slight profanity. discovering all this, i'm very thankful for my mom, for instilling this very "hip" literature in us when we were young. as much as i'd love to say the poetry of shel silverstein had a direct effect on me, i know it had more to do with spending a few quality minutes with my mom every morning.

happy mothers day mom.

a few of the more memorable poems

me [write] pretty one day

last week i attended a book reading and signing by david sedaris. as i sat in the audience, looking around at the very bookish crowd around me, i felt like a poser.

i'll explain.

i've never hid the fact i hated reading and writing. i put forth the absolute bare minimum of effort in both subjects through high school. one would have thought this void in my education would have been exposed eventually, however, due to my studies in college, i rarely had to read any books that didn't have large pictures of buildings in it. i could have very well gone the rest of my life not giving much thought to "books".

however, during my last year of college, i became friends with two girls who had immersed themselves into the study of writing and composition. the timing of our meeting couldn't have been better. in high school i would have despised these girls. i'm guessing they were the girls in class who quickly raised their hands when the teacher asked if anyone could explain the significance of the conch shell in "lord of the flies" which would have pissed me off. i say despised, but let's be honest, i would have had a secret crush on them. as life would have it though, i met these two shortly after my discovery of the lit-rock band "the decemberists". these two situations combined, i found myself with a latent love of literature. through the years, we've kept in touch through witty e-mails and occasionally i'd ask for suggestions on reading material. years ago it was suggested i read david sedaris. however, due to a large, unread stack of books, and my incredibly slow reading speed, i never got around to it.

then, a few months ago, a local bookstore announced, david sedaris would be reading and signing books in november. the recommendation made years ago was remembered, so i picked up two of his books, quickly read, and fell in love with them. i found the stories to be quirky and witty, and enjoyed how the smallest, most insignificant situations could be comically strung out over several pages. upon finishing the first book, i sent a text to one of my friends, stating i had finally read "me talk pretty one day". the response i received back was "geez, do i have to hold your hand through everything?" see what i mean! writers...such a way with words.

so, that's how i found myself amongst a very literary crowd last thursday. like everyone else there, i waited in line to have my book signed. now, after years of hating any form of literature, the discovery of an indie-lit-rock-folk band, the making of two friends who opened my eyes to the creativity that can be found in writing, countless suggestions, two book purchases and a few days of reading, what could this best selling author have written in my book to finish this whole story off?


writers, such a way with words.

[beat]week

there's something about this time of year, that makes the number of miles davis songs played on my ipod increase. with "autumn leaves" creating an internal soundtrack in my head, my mind is allowed to wander. as i listen to the extended trumpet riffs, my mind pictures, dark, smokey coffee houses, poetry, and eventually the beatnik culture.

with this mood already set, you can imagine how thrilled i was when i heard of the several "beatnik" activities that took place last week. first of all, newman university, had a gallery showcasing kansas's own beat experience. in coordination with the exhibit, they also held a reading of poems by allen ginsberg. topping off this beat week the movie, "william s. burroughs: a man within" was featured in wichita's tallgrass film festival.

attending these three events made me realize two things. first of all, the romantic, idealized, hollywood-esque image of the beatnik culture i had in my head a few years ago, is diminishing rapidly. it goes far deeper and darker then the beret-wearing-goatee sporting-maynard-g-kreb-types, i had once pictured. reading kerouac had given me a better description of what it really was, but discovering more about ginseberg and burroughs took it to a whole other level. secondly, i was amazed to found out how much kansas played in this sub-culture. not only did burroughs spend the last years of his life here, but one of ginsberg's most famous poems is entitled "wichita vortex sutra" an anti war poem heavily laced with city references and counter-culture feelings.

i feel like i've taken way too big of bite from the beatnik buffet this weekend. looking into the meaning ginsberg's poem, and visualizing the places he mentions, has me exhausting the internet for as much information as i can find. expect another blog on this subject later. for now, i'll crank up "so what" and see what wikipedia knows.

an early december[ist]

i make no attempt to hide the fact, that for the better part of my life, i avoided reading, writing, and spelling like the swine flu. only recently have i discovered an appreciation for these arts. that being said, any literary discovery i make, some of which should have happened around the fifth grade, i enjoy sharing. please humor me.

the other week, i literally stumbled into a reading event. i was trying to figure out how to make the most of a saturday night, when my friend karen called and informed me, she was downtown at the orpheum about to listen to an edgar allan poe interpreter. hearing my hesitation to attend a reading of this poet, she mentioned it was free, to which i quickly began walking to the theater. upon entering and after stumbling on the front steps, i was handed a pamphlet and a free book of edgar allan poe's poems! i was informed by the free-book-hander-outer, i was taking part in the national endowments for the arts "big read" program, with the goal being to restore reading back to the center of american culture. there's no way she could have realized it, but getting me in the door should be considered a huge success for the program.

walking down the isles, i found the crowd to be a mixture of older literary types, teen aged emo hipsters, and a handful of people obviously here to receive extra credit in a reading class. i knew them well, i only received the grades i did in my high school reading class by attending every book signing barnes and noble offered that semester. i found a seat next to my friend and awaited the performance. the lights dimmed and from behind the curtain appeared david keltz, a well known poe interpreter dressed like poe himself. he spoke as the author, discussing events in his life, and reasons behind the poems he wrote. they were dark and morbid, but somehow...still very beautiful. i recognized "the cask of amontillado" and "the tell-tale heart", only because it had been required reading in high school, but that night, i found myself slowly getting into the readings, not because i had to, but rather because i wanted to.

with each story poe explained more about his life and poetry. to paraphrase badly from what i remember, poe wanted to fill his poems with emotion, and he felt there was no emotion more complex than those surrounding death, especially of a loved one. to turn those mix of emotions into poetry is one of the most beautiful things a writer can do.

he than started a reading of "annabel lee".

something magical happened. as he read "annable lee" i made a discovery! themes of love, death, deception, murder, suicide, and revenge all put into beautiful verse, the name annabel, a kingdom by the sea! these were all decemberists songs! from that instant of realization i couldn't stop making connections, and i hung on every word.

i have no idea how much of a fan colin meloy is of poe, but these two lyricists share a lot of the same themes. in meloy's own music catalog, he mentions the name ann, or annabel several times, even having a song titled "annabelle leigh". in"oceanside" a character named annabel is seen reclining by the ocean, creating a similar image to poe's character. poe also uses the phrase, "kingdom by the sea", which is almost the same way meloy describes l.a. in "los angeles, i'm yours".

i'm very aware this isn't a new discovery, as anyone familiar with poe would have noticed this upon hearing any decemberists song. the shock is also less, knowing meloy majored in creative writing and would be very familiar with stories of the macabre and other dark romanticism works, of which poe wrtoe in. meloy is simply bringing this genre to the forefront of culture again, only this time with a catchy indie-folk beat behind it...which i'm eternally grateful for.

before i go, here is poe's "annabel lee" which to me, is just as beautiful as my favorite decemberists song.

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me
Yes! that was the reason
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

road[less]

tonight is a sad night...

first of all...i finished a book...a book that took me six years to read.

secondly...i finished a book...a book that i've had with me for the past six years.

i finally finished "on the road", a process that's taken me an embarrassingly long amount of time. i bought the book in 2003, the summer i stayed in manhattan to work construction. with all my friends out of town, i thought reading this classic would help pass the time. i started reading, and made it a few chapters. however school started back up, and it soon found it's way to the shelf. months would pass, i'd find it, decide to start over, and begin the journey again. however, things would happen, school would happen, life would happen, and it remained unread.

during these past six years, i've taken several trips. the last item i'd always find myself packing would be my copy of "on the road", always thinking i'd have time to read it while on the trip. deep down though, i think i just packed it for the irony. it followed me to the beaches of san diego, where it's pages got filled with sunlight and sand, only to be brought back to the midwest, unread. it then followed me to the west coast during my internship. eight months later, when i moved back, it was still unread. it's been to the ninth ward of new orleans, the bars of austin, the sidewalks of chicago, the coffee shops of portland and the foothills of denver. always with me, always waiting to be concluded.

a few months ago, i felt it was time to give the images of sal and dean, that have been wandering the road in my mind for the past six years, some rest. two individuals struggling with the conventions of how society told them they had to live, and their own ideas of what it means to be free. i sat down and decided i was going to make it all the way through this time. not only did i take the time to comprehend every sentence, but i found a wonderful online study guide to aid my reading. after every few chapters i would go on-line to review the analysis and study the major themes.

for the past six years, sal and dean have been companions of mine, fitting nicely into a cozy spot in my [man-satchel] next to my sketch book. tonight i feel as though i said good bye to some dear friends. it seems only fitting tonight that it's raining. kerouac used the symbol of rain throughout the novel to suggest the passing of time, as i finished the book, dreaming and wondering about my own life, rain is hitting my bedroom window. rain which will then fall to the sidewalk below. those drops will flow through man-made pipes and channels until it finds it's way to the arkansas river joining all the other drops from all the other windows of dreamers and wonderers. after traveling through oklahoma and arkansas, it will join the mississipi. a river thick and muddy with the hopes and dreams of the whole country. they'll all eventually make their way to the gulf and become part of the endless sea. they'll evaporate into the air and form into clouds, clouds that will one day rain on wichita again...

maybe by the time those drops hit my window again, i'll have things figured out....

thanks for a great story jack.

a wonderful clip of kerouac reading while steve allen plays piano

denver[beat city]

last week, my family and i traveled west to the city of denver to attend the graduation party of a good friend of ours. with the graduation party being on saturday the next few days were spent catching up with our friends who we hadn't seen in a while. home made barbeque was enjoyed, shows were attended and shopping ensued. our last day, however, involved something different. we decided to try out denver's light rail system and venture downtown! having brought along "one the road" as i'm now on part three, i tried to figure out if there was anyway to actually visit a few spots mentioned in the book. thumbing past pages and taking down notes of streets and landmarks, my search quickly moved to the internet where "google-ing the words "denver" and "beatnik" brought me to an amazing site! "denver's beat poetry driving tour"! an amazing source filled with exaclty what i was looking for!

with this website bookmarked in my phone, i was ready to take the tour! that morning we all rode the light rail train to downtown. arriving at union station, the ladies decided to hit the 16th street mall, the guys went to a sporting goods store, and i headed out to begin the tour. being on foot i couldn't follow the tour exactly or to it's full extent but i was able to take in a few of the sites mentioned. now although kerouac and ginsberg spent time in denver, most of the sites realted more to neal cassady, who was raised in denver, and was also the inspiration for "on the road's" character, dean moriarity.

my first stop was confluence park, where cherry creek and the platte river merge for a bit. now i'm sure this isn't what the park looked like in the 40's and 50's but this is the area where neal cassady and his father would take sunday trips and meet with other bums of the denver area.


a short distance from the park is a bar called "my brothers bar". not only is this denver's oldest bar still serving drinks in it's original location, this also happened to be the bar where neal drank a lot and hence racked up a tab, which he later asked a friend to pay for, in a letter neal wrote from a clolorado reform school. the bar was incredibly quaint with a copy of the letter from neal framed on the wall. i sat at the bar, got some local history from the bartender and a few locals, and ate lunch.




after lunch i met up with the rest of the guys, and we walked along the sidewalks of 15th street until we reached larimer, a street where neal spent the better part of his youth. the tour suggested taking a look at the 15th block of larimer. at this location most of the buildings have been preserved, and represent a little more of what denver would have looked like in the 40's and 50's. with the shops and stores located on the street now, it was hard to believe that in cassady's day this represented the "skid row" of denver. i almost felt bad enjoying a gelato from one of the stores......almost.





after this stop we wandered over to 16th street and meet up with the rest of our party. it was suggested that we start heading back towards the train, to try to avoid the afternoon rush. so although i only took in a few of the sites on the beatnik tour of denver, and i'm sure my family and friends thought i was geeking out hard core, there was something enjoyable about physically being in the places portrayed in the words of the pages.

blogging [old school]

i have no idea why this cracked me up so much tonight...

i was catching up on some news, when i came across this article stating that a diary found in england, mentions the game of baseball 50 years before it was ever referenced in the united states. now, when and where baseball was "first" mentioned, didn't' crack me up, what got me rolling was the actual diary entry!

here's the excerpt:

a mr. william bray writes:

“Easter Monday 31 March 1755"

“Went to Stoke Ch. This morning. After Dinner Went to Miss Jeale’s to play at Base Ball with her, the 3 Miss Whiteheads, Miss Billinghurst, Miss Molly Flutter, Mr. Chandler, Mr. Ford & H. Parsons & Jelly. Drank Tea and stayed till 8.”

now is it just me, or could that be a blog entry! i know that isn't much of a stretch, since blogs are basically on-line diary's, but for some reason, while reading it, i pictured a very well dressed man, in a wool suite, white wig, and buckle shoes, sitting in front of a macbook writing this entry out.

i think it's the "tea" and the "stayed till 8" that really get me! william and his friends had some crazy night! also the names are epic! "miss billinghurst", "miss molly flutter"! they sound like names right out of a jane austen novel! also, am i reading this right? does william have a friend name "jelly"?

if you haven't read it in an english accent yet, please do. it makes it so much better!

[me] and the old man

well i did it.

i read a book in one sitting.

i know that i shouldn't be particularly thrilled about making that statement, but i am. i'm just not a "book" guy. the trait that triggers one to pick up and read a book for fun, bypassed me. it's embarrassing to count the books i've read from beginning to end. now i'm not talking about the required reading i had to do in school, that was forced upon me. i didn't want to do it, i would have been perfectly fine in the dark room enlarging photos. i'm also not counting architecture books, that's just not fair...mostly pictures. i'm talking about books for leisure, cover to cover. the total is weak....i am however working on changing that.

while at the library, checking out dvd's, i decided to venture into unknown territory, the fiction section. i walked up and down the isle's, wondering aimlessly among the authors, lost in the lot of literature. i made it to the "h's". i stopped and picked up a copy of "the old man and the sea" by hemingway. i had heard the title and author before, so i figured, if i knew of it, it must be somewhat famous, and if it was famous, it must be good. not knowing anything more than that, i checked it out.

alright, honesty, it was 93 pages and had pictures. .....baby steps...

i took it home, but didn't read it right away. a few days passed, and then about 11:30 one night i was bored, picked it up and started reading. it took a while, but slowly i was taken from wichita to the shores of cuba. i continued. as i read, i got more into the story. as it turns out, it's about an old man and the sea! who knew!

without turning this into a book report, it's about an old man on a fishing trip. but not just any fishing trip, an epic fishing trip. an old fisherman, ventures far out into sea one day, and snags a huge fish, the fish of a lifetime. knowing what he's caught, he holds on, keeping the perfect balance on the line. the old man spends most of the book in this position. possibly a boring plot, but hemingway uses this situation to bring forth thoughts and feelings that reveal the character of the old man.


halfway into the book, i started getting sleepy, but i couldn't leave this old man out in a boat in the middle of nowhere holding this monster of a fish! it might have been my tiredness, but when the thought of closing the book crossed my mind, the old man would look and me and say "hey, where you going? don't leave me out here all alone with this fish!" so unlike howard roark who i've left at the drafting table or sal paradise who i've left on the side of the road, i kept reading. i had to know the outcome!

i don't want to give anything away.....in case there might be someone out there that hasn't read it, but the themes of the book are timeless. who knew a fishing trip could relate so well to countless situations in life.....


classic.

illustrations from the book, by c.f. tunnicliffe and raymond sheppard