Ron – SKOL VIKINGS! Broken hearted every year, but still show up as a fan. 🙂
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Kent, by January 2022 you will not be alone. Many carriers are eliminating 3G & some even 4G and forcing everyone to 5G. Oh, for the day s of the good sounding and more powerful analog phones that did one thing and that one thing very well.
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Natasha, what a cool event in Memphis! Wish I could be there. Definitely need to drum up more local interest here in Northern California. Cheers!
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Thank you! I just left the Cordova Library and saw that they have the flyers up. I told the check-out woman that was me! lol I really can’t wait 🤗
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Also try reaching out to your local library. That’s what I did. To the event coordinator.
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LEO, the world IS full of jealous cocksuckers. i, for one, am very jealous of your poetry, especially if you really do write each one in five minutes or less. today’s was superb. KENT, catch-22 and waiting for godot have nothing on the absurdities you write so incisively about. XICANO, it’s good to hear your voice again, mi hermano. thank you for your thank you. talent is a strange concept. to say that x is talented implies that y is not. i’ve never sat on a literary award committees, but i for one think you have talent and lots of it. rarer still, you have the gift of truth, which can only be forged under the anvil of hard-won lived experience. the world is awash in technical talent without a compass to guide it. i loved your many pages today, and especially your reflections on your daughter, the Morning Star. i hope you continue to share your writing with her, and she with you. for the record: i for one would pay to read your 50k word novel, and i am betting on you not against you. CATALINA, thank you for your reflections on black: cats, madonnas, and anne sexton’s “in celebration of my uterus.” maybe it’s worth posting the entire poem, which i do below. more tomorrow from/for the armamentarium. h@m.
In Celebration of My Uterus
BY ANNE SEXTON
Everyone in me is a bird.
I am beating all my wings.
They wanted to cut you out
but they will not.
They said you were immeasurably empty
but you are not.
They said you were sick unto dying
but they were wrong.
You are singing like a school girl.
You are not torn.
Sweet weight,
in celebration of the woman I am
and of the soul of the woman I am
and of the central creature and its delight
I sing for you. I dare to live.
Hello, spirit. Hello, cup.
Fasten, cover. Cover that does contain.
Hello to the soil of the fields.
Welcome, roots.
Each cell has a life.
There is enough here to please a nation.
It is enough that the populace own these goods.
Any person, any commonwealth would say of it,
“It is good this year that we may plant again
and think forward to a harvest.
A blight had been forecast and has been cast out.”
Many women are singing together of this:
one is in a shoe factory cursing the machine,
one is at the aquarium tending a seal,
one is dull at the wheel of her Ford,
one is at the toll gate collecting,
one is tying the cord of a calf in Arizona,
one is straddling a cello in Russia,
one is shifting pots on the stove in Egypt,
one is painting her bedroom walls moon color,
one is dying but remembering a breakfast,
one is stretching on her mat in Thailand,
one is wiping the ass of her child,
one is staring out the window of a train
in the middle of Wyoming and one is
anywhere and some are everywhere and all
seem to be singing, although some can not
sing a note.
Sweet weight,
in celebration of the woman I am
let me carry a ten-foot scarf,
let me drum for the nineteen-year-olds,
let me carry bowls for the offering
(if that is my part).
Let me study the cardiovascular tissue,
let me examine the angular distance of meteors,
let me suck on the stems of flowers
(if that is my part).
Let me make certain tribal figures
(if that is my part).
For this thing the body needs
let me sing
for the supper,
for the kissing,
for the correct
yes.
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P.S. Xicano: if you like Chopin’s Nocturnes, try Jenny Lin’s take on Philip Glass, Piano Works (2020). 9 songs, 1 hour and 2 minutes, just enough time to ride Crazy Horse into the OTP page 2 zone.
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Dear Xicano,
YouTube: type in “Chopin Nocturne Op. 9 no. 1”
There is a reflective and somewhat sad nature to it, but always with an underlying beauty. I’ve played it at several funeral services– including those of my mother and father.
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H@M: Thank you again for your encouragement. That one did take about six or seven minutes, it happened more or less as written: I was looking through the book, saw that someone had pencilled criticism on the back page, and told myself: there’s a poem in that. So I sat at the typewriter and wrote. I always get up two hours before any type of work or appointment, unless I’m starting very early, so I can just be free to read, think and write. Post-coffee, but pre-food. The 5 minutes doesn’t include the thinking of something and making a note when I’m in the supermarket, or in the park, or on the train, or anywhere, or bored by something. I’m seldom bored because boredom propels me to create my own product. But some of the poems are rewrites of earlier work that may have taken even twenty minutes. The sonnet I wrote the other day (my first in forty years or so) took a good half hour. I like to keep it fresh, even a bit raw, which I find hard to do, so the rewrites aren’t polishes, I’m just trying to make something new from something less new. Ironically, writing about the process takes longer than the process itself! But even knowing that just one person really liked it makes my day, so forgive the length of this reply.
Catalina: I had retired my poetic cat because no one had mentioned him but you encouraged me to bring him back. Thank you.
H@M & Catalina: Love that Anne Sexton poem. Read it twice, will read it again in the book of her poetry that I own with that excellent cover.
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Hi Catalina, my blog can be found at typewritemosphere.com (or via the Typosphere’s Mighty Blogroll around those times when I’ve actually added a new entry). I’m not mistaken, I believe that you can also just click on my name here in the comments. Of course I won’t actually try to confirm whether or not that is true until after submitting this particular comment, so I might very well be wrong!. Thanks for asking.
FYI: I’m currently working on a new blog entry that ties together touch typing and guitar playing to some extent.
Ron – SKOL VIKINGS! Broken hearted every year, but still show up as a fan. 🙂
Kent, by January 2022 you will not be alone. Many carriers are eliminating 3G & some even 4G and forcing everyone to 5G. Oh, for the day s of the good sounding and more powerful analog phones that did one thing and that one thing very well.
Natasha, what a cool event in Memphis! Wish I could be there. Definitely need to drum up more local interest here in Northern California. Cheers!
Thank you! I just left the Cordova Library and saw that they have the flyers up. I told the check-out woman that was me! lol I really can’t wait 🤗
Also try reaching out to your local library. That’s what I did. To the event coordinator.
LEO, the world IS full of jealous cocksuckers. i, for one, am very jealous of your poetry, especially if you really do write each one in five minutes or less. today’s was superb. KENT, catch-22 and waiting for godot have nothing on the absurdities you write so incisively about. XICANO, it’s good to hear your voice again, mi hermano. thank you for your thank you. talent is a strange concept. to say that x is talented implies that y is not. i’ve never sat on a literary award committees, but i for one think you have talent and lots of it. rarer still, you have the gift of truth, which can only be forged under the anvil of hard-won lived experience. the world is awash in technical talent without a compass to guide it. i loved your many pages today, and especially your reflections on your daughter, the Morning Star. i hope you continue to share your writing with her, and she with you. for the record: i for one would pay to read your 50k word novel, and i am betting on you not against you. CATALINA, thank you for your reflections on black: cats, madonnas, and anne sexton’s “in celebration of my uterus.” maybe it’s worth posting the entire poem, which i do below. more tomorrow from/for the armamentarium. h@m.
In Celebration of My Uterus
BY ANNE SEXTON
Everyone in me is a bird.
I am beating all my wings.
They wanted to cut you out
but they will not.
They said you were immeasurably empty
but you are not.
They said you were sick unto dying
but they were wrong.
You are singing like a school girl.
You are not torn.
Sweet weight,
in celebration of the woman I am
and of the soul of the woman I am
and of the central creature and its delight
I sing for you. I dare to live.
Hello, spirit. Hello, cup.
Fasten, cover. Cover that does contain.
Hello to the soil of the fields.
Welcome, roots.
Each cell has a life.
There is enough here to please a nation.
It is enough that the populace own these goods.
Any person, any commonwealth would say of it,
“It is good this year that we may plant again
and think forward to a harvest.
A blight had been forecast and has been cast out.”
Many women are singing together of this:
one is in a shoe factory cursing the machine,
one is at the aquarium tending a seal,
one is dull at the wheel of her Ford,
one is at the toll gate collecting,
one is tying the cord of a calf in Arizona,
one is straddling a cello in Russia,
one is shifting pots on the stove in Egypt,
one is painting her bedroom walls moon color,
one is dying but remembering a breakfast,
one is stretching on her mat in Thailand,
one is wiping the ass of her child,
one is staring out the window of a train
in the middle of Wyoming and one is
anywhere and some are everywhere and all
seem to be singing, although some can not
sing a note.
Sweet weight,
in celebration of the woman I am
let me carry a ten-foot scarf,
let me drum for the nineteen-year-olds,
let me carry bowls for the offering
(if that is my part).
Let me study the cardiovascular tissue,
let me examine the angular distance of meteors,
let me suck on the stems of flowers
(if that is my part).
Let me make certain tribal figures
(if that is my part).
For this thing the body needs
let me sing
for the supper,
for the kissing,
for the correct
yes.
P.S. Xicano: if you like Chopin’s Nocturnes, try Jenny Lin’s take on Philip Glass, Piano Works (2020). 9 songs, 1 hour and 2 minutes, just enough time to ride Crazy Horse into the OTP page 2 zone.
Dear Xicano,
YouTube: type in “Chopin Nocturne Op. 9 no. 1”
There is a reflective and somewhat sad nature to it, but always with an underlying beauty. I’ve played it at several funeral services– including those of my mother and father.
H@M: Thank you again for your encouragement. That one did take about six or seven minutes, it happened more or less as written: I was looking through the book, saw that someone had pencilled criticism on the back page, and told myself: there’s a poem in that. So I sat at the typewriter and wrote. I always get up two hours before any type of work or appointment, unless I’m starting very early, so I can just be free to read, think and write. Post-coffee, but pre-food. The 5 minutes doesn’t include the thinking of something and making a note when I’m in the supermarket, or in the park, or on the train, or anywhere, or bored by something. I’m seldom bored because boredom propels me to create my own product. But some of the poems are rewrites of earlier work that may have taken even twenty minutes. The sonnet I wrote the other day (my first in forty years or so) took a good half hour. I like to keep it fresh, even a bit raw, which I find hard to do, so the rewrites aren’t polishes, I’m just trying to make something new from something less new. Ironically, writing about the process takes longer than the process itself! But even knowing that just one person really liked it makes my day, so forgive the length of this reply.
Catalina: I had retired my poetic cat because no one had mentioned him but you encouraged me to bring him back. Thank you.
H@M & Catalina: Love that Anne Sexton poem. Read it twice, will read it again in the book of her poetry that I own with that excellent cover.
Hi Catalina, my blog can be found at typewritemosphere.com (or via the Typosphere’s Mighty Blogroll around those times when I’ve actually added a new entry). I’m not mistaken, I believe that you can also just click on my name here in the comments. Of course I won’t actually try to confirm whether or not that is true until after submitting this particular comment, so I might very well be wrong!. Thanks for asking.
FYI: I’m currently working on a new blog entry that ties together touch typing and guitar playing to some extent.