Splash du Jour: Tuesday

Early in life, the world divides crudely into those who have had sex and those who haven't. Later, into those who have known love, and those who haven't. Later still, at least if we are lucky (or, on the other hand, unlucky) -- it divides into those who have endured grief, and those who haven't. These divisions are absolute; they are tropics we cross. 
-- Julian Barnes, Levels of Life -- 
Have a great Tuesday!
*****

Levels of Life

The last two books I've read were both excellent.
The Tiger's Wife, by Tea Obreht.
Levels of Life, by Julian Barnes.
I finished the Barnes one just tonight, so while it is fresh on my mind I want to say a few words about it. Firstly -- you should read it. At 128 pages, you can read it in a sitting. It's a slim little thing, but packed with searing relevance.
In 2008, his wife died. I say "died" instead of "passed away" because Barnes dislikes the term. What does "passing away" imply? That it will come back, sometime? That the distance between life and death is somehow bridgeable? It isn't. 
They had been married for thirty years -- and in this book, I learned a new word:
Uxorious.
I had to look it up.
It means "having or showing an excessive or submissive fondness for one's wife." Julian Barnes was very uxorious towards his wife, and this book is a poignant memoir of the grieving and mourning process that he is still -- processing. It is interesting in its structure. Barnes begins with two chapters that seem to be going almost nowhere. Chapters about the history of ballooning, and photography. In the third and final chapter, we begin to see the significance of the metaphors.
It begins: You put together two people who have not been put together before. Sometimes it is like that first attempt to harness a hydrogen balloon to a fire balloon: do you prefer to crash and burn, or burn and crash? But sometimes it works, and something new is made, and the world is changed. Then, at some point, sooner or later, for this reason or that, one of them is taken away. And what is taken away is greater than the sum of what was there. This may not be mathematically possible; but it is emotionally possible.
I encourage you to read Levels of Life.
Never is Julian Barnes going nowhere in a book. And in this one, by revealing what he lost when the greatest part of who he is was literally… removed, he takes us everywhere. To the most important word in the universe. Starts with "L" and ends in "e".
Just like the book's title.
*****

Splash du Jour: Monday

I think a great book -- leaving aside other qualities such as narrative power, characterization, style, and so on -- is a book that describes the world in a way that has not been done before; and that is recognized by those who read it as telling new truths.
-- Julian Barnes, The Paris Review, Winter 2000 --

Have a great Monday!
*****

Robert Plant Climbing: A Saturday Snapshot

Beyond the occasional half-forgotten act of "the pouring of some water in there"… I know absolutely nothing about horticulture. My percentage of Plant Knowledge would be somewhere into the negative integers, is what I am saying! 
And yet I have somehow managed to be the owner of a plant that refuses to die. 
His name is Robert Plant.
And no matter the magnitude of ignorance I level at this thing, it continues to thrive -- for years now. 
I bought this little inches-high plant at a grocery store, like about five years ago -- and the thing continues to not only "live" but it seems to thrive.
And climb up the wall.
You can't see the current outcropping in this picture, but Robert Plant, after climbing up to the ceiling somehow, is now trailing off and making his way across the top of my fridge. 
If he ever makes it to the inside of the thing, I am definitely going to gently suggest that he should start helping out with the grocery bill. This plant is crazy. 
It refuses to die, even though my cat Kennedy, [see him in the background, waiting?] regularly eats any of the leaves that droop low enough for him to reach up and gobble them.
The process is called "selective pruning" and/or -- "survival of the fattest"!
I've only changed the soil once, years ago. I am a terrible father to this plant, and yet… it lives.  
I would not at all be surprised if one day I arrive home unexpectedly early from work to the sound of clinking beer bottles, overflowing ashtrays everywhere -- and girl-plants running out the door wrapped in towels! My towels! A naked Robert jumping  back into place against the wall whistling the opening to Stairway To Heaven with a guilty look on his leaves. 
Kennedy will be laid back on the couch yonder, with dilated pupils. 
Dazed and confused, stoned out of his cat mind on second-hand [or maybe even first-paw] smoke.
Many thanks to West Metro Mommy Reads for hosting this Saturday Snapshot meme.
*****

Splash du Jour: Friday

 -- John Steinbeck, East of Eden --

Have a great Friday!

*****

Splash du Jour: Thursday

Sometimes, when she's out here alone, she can feel the pulse of something bigger, as if all things animate were beating in unison, a glory and a connection that sweeps her out of herself, out of her consciousness, so that nothing has a name, not in Latin, not in English, not in any known language.
-- T.C. Boyle, When The Killing's Done --

Have a great Thursday!
*****

I Need To Come Up With A Plausible Illness...

One thing I really love about living in a fair size city is that there are always a fair amount of author-events. Last night as I left my favorite coffee shop I just happened to notice a stack of pamphlets sitting on a table and I picked one up. It was an ad for this year's Writer's Festival which begins tomorrow. The first thing I saw was a full page describing a Literary Luncheon With Eleanor Catton. Wow, I'd love to go to that -- even though some aspects of her new book sort of eluded me, really. Still, it was a pretty dang good book. Thing is, this event includes FOOD… and stuff. 
So now it is even more tempting, because I love food!
The ad says, "Each ticket includes a tasty meal, good company, great conversation and a copy of The Luminaries to get signed. Better yet, proceeds support our free children's literacy programs." Nice! However, reading through the brochure, I found something that is even more interesting to me. Emma Donoghue, on April 28th, will be discussing her newest book, Frog Music -- a book I have every intention of reading. Emma Donoghue is a fantastic writer, one of my favorite writers, for sure. The downside is that the event starts at 6:30 p.m., and I work until 6 p.m. at a minimum. So I don't think I can leave work early enough to get to the thing. 
Hmm… unless I think of a really good excuse to skip away early.
Maybe a toothache? Brain aneurysm? Sudden onset diarrhea?
[Hmmm… hopefully my boss is not reading this blog right now.]
*****

Splash du Jour: Wednesday

My mother always says that fear and pain are immediate, and that, when they are gone, we're left with the concept, but not the true memory -- why else, she reasons, would anyone give birth more than once?  
-- Tea Obreht, The Tiger's Wife --

Have a great Wednesday!
*****

The Water-Method Man

This is the ninth John Irving novel I've read over the past decade or so. 
The Water-Method Man is Irving's second book, published way back when I was a mere nine-year old [1972]. Am I really that old? 
Is he? 
Tthough it is such an ancient thing it reads as if it could have come out this year, well, except for the lack of technology in it. Characters still actually speak on landline phones and write letters by hand! And use typewriters!
But for the most part, relationships are still as screwy today as they were back then -- and boy, are they ever screwy in here! In my experience, this seems to be Irving's forte -- illuminating via humor and farce, the unhumorous struggles in human relationships.
The protagonist, Bogus Trumper, has a birth defect in his urinary tract and is prescribed a diet of copious amounts of water to try and remedy the problem. Hence, the title. Later on he will have to resort to surgical measures to fix this issue with his [whatever…] penile canal? But in the meantime he is hydrating himself as much as he can, and dealing with a seemingly never-ending line of failures in his life -- mostly in his relationships with women. As a movie-review about him will one day report, he fails "to communicate with women beyond a self-satisfying level..." It's a hilarious story, and yet, serious as hell. Buried deep are feelings that he has failed to impress his father, who alienates Bogus after he [Bogus] impregnates out-of-wedlock the first real love of his life. 
"You're on your own now, boy!" [My paraphrase].
And he is. 
Bogus's life's work revolves around his translation of an old Norse myth -- it becomes his Ph.D thesis. And a friend of his begins to make a documentary-style movie of Bogus's life, entitled * * * *ing-Up. 
I hesitate to spell out the actual title because I know so many young children read my blog!
Interestingly enough, it is only when Bogus himself views the film in a theater, years later, that he is propelled onward to make several necessary changes that finally result in a measure of peace and stability.
He gets the penis surgery.
He discovers that he is the father of a child he knew nothing about, spawn of a subsequent relationship that ultimately seems to be more forgiving of his frailties, and resilient regarding his wrongdoings.
I say "seems" -- because in the end we can only hope for him, on the last page. Irving excels, I think, in showing us that love is grand, but it is also mundane. And you gain the former when you accept the latter. Often we speak of great first lines in a book, but in this case I will mention a great last line:  
Mindful of his scars, his old harpoons and things, Bogus Trumper smiled cautiously at all the good flesh around him.
To extrapolate on my already bastardized thoughts from Trumper's ever-distanced father, "You're NOT on your own now, boy!" For God's sake -- don't screw this up again!
I rate The Water Method-Man 3.5 Fully Gushing Urinary Tracts out of a Possible 5 Overflowing Toilets.
*****

Splash du Jour: Tuesday

Have a great Tuesday!

*****

Splash du Jour: Monday

Have the courage to be ignorant of a great number of things, in order to avoid the calamity of being ignorant of everything.
-- Sydney Smith (1771-1845) –

Have a great Monday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Thursday

For me, the vast marvel is to be alive. For man, or for flowers or beast or bird, the supreme triumph is to be most vividly and perfectly alive.
-- Al Purdy --

Have a great Thursday!
*****

Is My Cat Retarded?

I know that a lot of you out there are cat owners, and so I just want to begin by saying that the question in my blog-title is actually a sincere one. Maybe you can help me. 
I think my cat Kennedy is maybe a bit mentally retarded.
He seems to want to live his life in my bathtub, mainly in the space between the inner and outer shower curtains, the former of which he keeps tearing to shreds, and I have to keep buying new ones all the time. He seems insanely intrigued with the bathtub. He's just always in there, mostly in this inner sanctum place, but other times just sprawled out right in the tub. He's obsessed with it. The weird thing is, my last cat [Jack] was similarly insane -- just not quite to this same degree, and at least he did not shred the inner liner. But Kennedy is hardcore in love with my bathtub.
So I honestly am wondering if this is just some kind of common thing with cats? Does your cat do this? Should I seek counseling for this guy? Or just assume that this behavior "goes with the territory" and maybe subscribe to some sort of service that regularly sends me shower curtains in the mail?
*****

Splash du Jour: Wednesday

Have a great Wednesday!

*****

Splash du Jour: Tuesday

You should write because you love the shape of stories and sentences and the creation of different words on a page. Writing comes from reading, and reading is the finest teacher of how to write.
-- E. Annie Proulx --

Have a great Tuesday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Monday

When you are courting a nice girl an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder a second seems like an hour. That’s relativity.
-- Albert Einstein -- 
Have a great Monday!
*****

The Luminaries

Last night I finished this veritable doorstop of a book, The Luminaries.
I don't need to remind any of you that it won The Man Booker Prize in 2013. I always look forward to reading prize-winning books. I honestly think I have to admit that this one was a bit too complex for me, and yet, I am not saying it is a bad book, or not worth reading. It's a rich, compelling story [plot], filled with vivid characters and tense scenes. It is intricate. I think my main issue is with that last word, the intricacy of it. I'm all for intricacy, but found myself too often just a bit lost as to the exact happenings of the book. Even now, having finished it, were I to try and explain all that happened, I know I would be missing significant parts of the storyline, especially as they chronologically unraveled. And that bothers me, because I was really paying attention!
Instead of trying to delineate it here, I will direct you to this two-minute video, and perhaps you will get a good sense of the story and its labyrinthian layout:



As for me, again, I really hate to say negative things about this book, I think it is remarkable, in so many senses. I always feel like I require a clear handle [so to say], a mental picture in my head of what is going on -- exactly what is going on, as I read a book. And it is in this sense that ultimately The Luminaries threw me for a loop, too many times.
*****

Six or Seven Influential Books

About a week ago I ran across an interesting posting over at Brona's Books. It was about her Top Ten Most Influential Books. Ever since then I have been giving it some thought -- keeping in mind that the word "influential" is different from the word "favourite".
As I think of how the question pans out for myself, here is what I have come up with.

Tess of The D'Urbervilles, by Thomas Hardy.
One end of semester when I was in college, several millennia ago, I had some time between final exams and my trip back home. I had always been a "reader" of fiction, but fairly sporadic. With some free time on my hands I found myself at a certain mall in Peterborough, and picked up a copy of Tess. Went back to my dorm room and immersed myself in Hardy's fatalism. The book drew me in so thoroughly that I found myself glued to it. And what it accomplished was that it renewed my love of fiction. Since that time I have been an insatiable reader. Tess put an end to the sporadic nature of my former reading regimen. I have since re-read the book, as well as almost everything else the author has written. Tess remains a favourite, as well as being profoundly influential, for me.

Blindness, by Jose Saramago.
In May of 2002, I read my first Saramago novel. Blindness. For those of you who have not discovered Jose Saramago, reading him is like… learning to read all over again. He has his own rules of punctuation, a style that could be copyrighted it is so unique. He is like no other author, ever. He stands alone. He hears a different drum. Blindness is not only an incredibly fascinating read, but, in my opinion, it is the perfect entry point into the world of Jose Saramago, a Portuguese author who passed away in June of 2010. I recall exactly where I was when I heard of his death. I stared into space for maybe a solid hour, and just tried to picture a world without him in it. I felt profound grief. Again, I went on from Blindness to read all of his works, and sadly miss him. My signed copy of Blindness is one of my treasures. I briefly met him, shortly before his death. Whereas Thomas Hardy taught me to love literature, I think Saramago made me realize the limitless nature of it.

Till We Have Faces, by C.S. Lewis.
I think it would be fair to say I have read almost everything C.S. Lewis ever wrote, but when I first read Till We Have Faces I was shaken to the very core. It is a re-telling of the myth of Cupid and Psyche. In Lewis's book these are two sisters, named Orual and Psyche, and the extremely fanciful story is set in a world where gods exist. It is, at one and the same time, a study in beauty and horror. A meditation on the deep effects of jealousy. The main theme is love, one love that is possessive and horrible; the other being pure, sincere, liberating, and well… lovely. The reader is forced to come to terms with where they themselves fit into that picture -- at least this is the way I have read it. And I've done so four or five times, and plan to do so again. I am somewhat of a collector, owning six different copies of it, one a first edition I stumbled across at an antiquarian bookfair and paid an outrageous amount for. Why is it so influential to me? Because it nails the most important topic in the world -- love.

The Road Less Traveled, by M. Scott Peck.
This was the first book by M. Scott Peck I ever read, and it signaled for me the importance of non-fiction, in one's reading diet. It is perhaps the one book I would pick, were I told I had to choose one for the entire world to read. The subtitle is "A New Psychology of Love, Traditional Values and Spiritual Growth". It is so practical, so useful, so relevant. And it begins with my favourite first sentence of all time: "Life is difficult." Peck knows that it is. His own was. Again, when I heard that he passed away in 2005 -- I just stared at nothing for a long while with a big huge "What?" in my mind. Disbelief. It is influential to me because Peck taught me that when one is bewildered at the state of things, the first place to look is within. At yourself. Never mind everyone else. Think of how much shit is wrong with you.
I've read pretty much everything this man went on to write, and The Road Less Traveled is the perfect starter. The world is less without him in it.

The Beginning of Wisdom, by Leon R. Kass.
The Pagan Christ, by Tom Harpur.
I am linking these two books together because each of them are like defibrillator jolts to anyone struggling with the intellectual problems that can accrue from a disconnect between fundamentalist ideas of the Bible/Christianity, and… reality. These books literally changed my life in the sense that they, in tandem, were the catalyst for me in my coming to terms with how I interpret the Bible.
Kass's book, sub-titled "Reading Genesis" is a commentary on that first book of the Bible -- every verse of it. I was entranced. I ate it like manna. For the first time ever -- as in, after achieving a degree in Theology, I, for the first time, began to ask questions that would have seemed forbidden, prior to the reading of this book. In fact, of all the hitherto mentioned influential books, this one should really be listed at the top, before Tess. But in a completely different realm, and for such a different reason. Leon Kass brought to life the stories of the Bible -- made me, for the first time, interact with the people found therein, as people. Not legendary heroes, but real people. And in doing so, he made me realize that so many of them are legends, in the mythical sense.
Then I followed up with reading The Pagan Christ, by Tom Harpur. 
Is he the most eloquent author ever? No. He can be crass and somewhat unprincipled, even. Thing is, again -- this book revolutionized my thinking about Christianity. The subtitle is "Recovering The Lost Light". Harpur's premise is that a lot of what has ended up in the Bible is borrowed from other cultures, most notably the Egyptians -- and is therefore not as "original" as it may, at first, appear to be. Reading The Pagan Christ was tantamount to unscrewing the top of my head and pouring cocaine inside there, directly on the most fact-hungry lobes. I wanted to learn more and more. And I did. I went to see the author speak at events, twice. Again, is this a "favourite" book? No. I've read far better ones, since. [Like those of John Shelby Spong]. But it was profoundly influential. When one finally realizes that the Bible does not necessarily have to be read as a "literal" document, it is like the difference between a bird in a cage, and a bird in the trees. Any tree. I am now the latter, thanks to these two guys.

Questions About Angels, by Billy Collins.
This was the first book of Billy Collins's poetry I read, and it revolutionized my own approach to poetry. It was sent to me as a gift from a dear friend, and I am ever grateful. Ever since then, I have been unleashed in the freedom of writing poetry that is not concerned with being "good" or "bad", but more concerned with being "existent". Rhyme shmyme! Whatever you are thinking about, write it out. Break it up. Explore it. Am I suggesting this is what Billy Collins does? No. He's better than I am, at it.
But he allowed me to do it. From an influential perspective, my hat [which I do not even wear, and hey -- there is a poem in there somewhere] is off to him. Billy Collins writes about what he feels, and he taught me that this is the most important thing about poetry. If you feel it, it is worth words. If no one likes it, the importanter thing is, you do.
*****

Splash du Jour: Friday

The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.
-- Friedrich Nietzsche --

Have great Friday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Wednesday

Have a great Wednesday!

*****

Splash du Jour: Tuesday

Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this. Men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
-- Robert Jordan --

Have a great Tuesday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Monday

Have a great Monday!

*****

Mr. g -- A Novel About the Creation

Picture utter emptiness, a.k.a., the void.
Never mind the fact that there is no Earth yet, there isn't even a universe.
Were you an observer, you would be observing -- nothing. 
Or rather, nothingness.
And if you tried to picture wind or stars or water, you could not give form or texture to your emotions. [[p.3]
Unbeknownst to you [especially because you do not exist yet] there is something here though.
Mr.g.
And he wants to create the universe.
You turn the page, and read the following: Almost immediately, it seemed, my aunt Penelope asked me why I would want to do such a thing.
You have entered the speculative non-world of Alan Lightman's Mr. g.
In this pre-universe void, the creator has an aunt and uncle, the latter of which we meet in the next few sentences. Naturally, this presupposes parents, too. Has anyone ever existed, that had an aunt and uncle, but no parents? Lightman does this, I believe, to immediately relieve us of the idea that any of this is real. Yet, what follows in the book is about everything that we know to be real.
Mr. g follows through with his desire, and creates the universe -- but he's new at this, even making a few blunders in his first tries. He's tired of The Void, and his aunt and uncle and their constant bickering.
He settles on a few "organizational principles."
First, symmetry of position and moment. In other words, "time" -- which has not previously existed.
Secondly, there would be no absolutes, only relatives. Principles of motion, tying time and space together. "A particular period of time would signify a particular distance in space, with the proportionality between the two being a fundamental speed of the universe."
Thirdly, the principle that every event should be necessarily caused by a previous event without which it would not have happened. Causality.
He sets these things in motion, and sort of, lets them be, adding a touch here and there to certain aesthetic proportions etc., and giving shape and order to matter.
What Mr. g discovers is that a flurry of unpredicted things happen as a result of these laws being put in motion -- things that evolve without his further intervention.
Not everywhere, but on advantageously positioned planets in his universe, life evolves -- followed by consciousness. Thinking. Religions -- none of which are ever able to correctly find their way back to the First Cause.
Aunt Penelope and Uncle Deva urge him to make himself known to the self-conscious beings, that he may be properly admired for his work.
But Mr. g never concedes to this wish, although he is often tempted to do so. He feels compassion for the created beings, but is aware that they will never be able to fully understand anything that is beyond the universe they find themselves to be a part of.
Alan Lightman is a theoretical physicist as well as a novel-writer, and while the facts presented do correspond to what we currently understand about the origin of the universe, the book is a novel, and meant to be read as such. It is a wonderful, often amusing speculation, and entertaining.
I enjoyed it. I bet even Mr. g himself would say… "Well done!"
*****

Gordon Downie of "The Hip"

All day long at work, I've been singing various Tragically Hip songs in my head, and sometimes out loud. They are one of my favourite musical groups, and good ol' Ontario boys, to boot.
I find their lyrics so nutty and compelling, even though half the time they do not make a lot of sense.
But after all, Gordon Downie, the lead singer featured in the video clip below, is a well-recognized and thoroughly published poet. And we all know that poets are always a bit nutty! 
[Note: He is not the polar bear, he's the other guy.]
For sure, they are a band I never tire of listening to.
I think I fell for The Tragically Hip when they performed for the Queen of England in one of the Olympic ceremonies, and forgive me, I forget the exact year. But there she was, the QUEEN…… like of ENGLAND, and Gordon Downie did not change his style one bit for Her Majesty. He was certifiably… insane!
Every so often the camera would cut to Queen Elizabeth, and you could tell she was thinking…. "Is this what our Commonwealth has come to?" and/or "Is there any way we can remove Canada from it?"
It was awesome. I've been a fan ever since.
I say all of this to say, you know -- I already own all of their music, so if you've been wondering what to get me for my birthday, or for Christmas or whatever, you could always click on the three words of the title, and get me his book of poetry called Coke Machine Glow.

Splash du Jour: Friday

We had the sky, up there, all speckled with stars, and we used to lay on our backs and look up at them, and discuss about whether they was made, or only just happened.
-- Mark Twain, Huckleberry Finn --

Have a great Friday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Thursday

Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot,
Nothing is going to get better. It’s not.
-- Dr. Suess, The Lorax --

Have a great Thursday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Wednesday

Love cannot be reduced to a catalogue of reasons why, and a catalogue of reasons cannot be put together into love.
-- Eleanor Catton, The Luminaries --

Have a great Wednesday!
*****

The Silent Wife

Speaking of "silence" -- please forgive my lack of blogging lately.
I blame old age decrepitude, general laziness [coupled with specific laziness], and lack of initiative due to tiredness. Early-Onset Lassitude might sum it up!
But I have been doing some good reading. Five books in the month of March.
The last one I finished was just terrific, so I want to mention it.
The Silent Wife is the debut novel by A.S.A. Harrison -- who passed away in 2013 in the midst of working on her next thriller.
Jodi and Todd are forty-somethings who live together in their beautiful downtown Chicago condo. They've never been officially "married", and have no children. Todd is a Porsche-driving successful real estate developer, and Jodi is a psychologist. To all appearances they are the perfect couple, and after two decades together, everyone thinks of them as happily married. Everything is not quite as idyllic as it seems, however, especially as Todd has fallen for his best friend's 22-year old daughter, Natasha.
Jodi, aware of what is happening, opts for an attitude of silence. For a while, Todd thinks he is [for lack of a better term] "getting away with it".
That is, until a baby is on the way -- and it's not Jodi's baby. This ups the ante, considerably. Todd shacks up with Natasha, and Jodi faces eviction.
Dean [Natasha's father and Todd's former best-friend] is livid -- as one might imagine. Todd's world narrows -- his finances and business begin to fail him. The world of multiple concubinage is, among other things -- grossly expensive! The toll on the conscience even costlier.
The tale is told in alternating chapters entitled "Him" and "Her" -- and we get the inner perspective of what each is thinking along this descending spiral of relationship. The reader is struck with the depths of loss that can come from wrong decisions made. Terrible decisions, on Todd's part. But some equally uncharacteristic decisions, on Jodi's part.
I found it difficult to put the book down for any great length of time -- which is to say I devoured it. There was never a boring moment -- and one thing is quite clear at the end -- Todd is not alive any more.
That is not a spoiler though, because four pages in we are told that Jodi's "notions about who she is and how she ought to conduct herself are far less stable than she supposes, given that a few short months are all it will take to make a killer out of her."
The author tells us right up front, that this is going to get crazy, fast!
And just when I was thinking "This book ought to be a movie" I found out that it is indeed, in the works. And it will be starring none other than a former [expensive as hell] girlfriend of mine: Nicole Kidman.
Get this book. There is no other way to read it than at full speed. It's damn good.
*****

Splash du Jour: Tuesday

Spoon River

Our equivalent of a clock, we agreed
When the wick of this candle is done
we will head out.

Sputtering in a pool of wax, we watched
Waited. Breath-baited.
Then… poof.

The moon complied, clouds clearing.
Clang of the screen door as we ran
undressing.

I flung myself from the pier, looking back.
You hung everything on the notch of a tree
diving in.

So many things in life are disconnected.
Some never seem to come together.
I swept my arms underwater --

Just as they met my thighs, I reached yours
in the shallows of Spoon River.
Kissed them, laced under the shining stars.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2014 --

Have a great Tuesday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Monday

Narrow minds devoid of imagination. Intolerance, theories cut off from reality, empty terminology, usurped ideals, inflexible systems. Those are the things that really frighten me. What I absolutely fear and loathe.
-- Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore --

Have a great Monday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Friday

Other people are not here to fulfill our needs or meet our expectations, nor will they always treat us well. Failure to accept this will generate feelings of anger and resentment. Peace of mind comes with taking people as they are and emphasizing the positive.
-- A.S.A. Harrison, The Silent Wife --

Have a great Friday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Thursday

Have a great Thursday!

*****

Splash du Jour: Wednesday

Every shrink knows that it's not the event itself but how you respond to it that tells the story. Take ten assorted individuals, expose them all to the same life trial, and they will each suffuse it with exquisite personal detail and meaning.
-- A.S.A. Harrison, The Silent Wife --

Have a great Wednesday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Tuesday

I do not believe that a man should be restrained in his daily actions by being afraid of punishment after death or that he should do things only because in this way he will be rewarded after he dies. This does not make sense. The proper guidance during the life of a man should be the weight that he puts upon ethics and the amount of consideration that he has for others.
-- Albert Einstein --

Have a great Tuesday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Monday

 I have never imputed to Nature a purpose or a goal, or anything that could be understood as anthropomorphic. What I see in Nature is a magnificent structure that we can comprehend only very imperfectly, and that must fill a thinking person with a feeling of humility. This is a genuinely religious feeling that has nothing to do with mysticism.
-- Albert Einstein --

Have a great Monday!
*****

All Good Things Come To An End...

Well, it's been pretty much a very excellent four full days of fun and frolic.
Lots of calories. Lots of calories.
But all good things come back to reality, at some point.
Tomorrow morning we have to get up and get out of here, but wow, it has been grand.
This is the view -- a part of it, from here on the 27th floor of The Hilton in Toronto, just across from The Sheraton, yonder. Definitely this must remain an annual event in my calendar. So relaxing.
One thing different than other times I have taken a week off, I did not get a lot of reading done.
Hope you have all had a nice first day of spring. Will this winter ever finally now end?
I had breakfast today at a favourite Toronto restaurant called Fran's, across from Massey Hall. There was a countdown on a screen, heralding the arrival of spring, and I had my face half-buried in a 3-egg-omelette when the waiter came around and announced that it was officially spring. Which was at one o'clock.
Gives you an idea of when I woke up, in the first place. Ahhh, holidays!
*****

Splash du Jour: Monday

Life is difficult.
This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult -- once we truly understand and accept it -- then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.
-- M. Scott Peck, The Road Less Traveled --

Have a great Monday!

*****

Let The Good Times Commence...

Friends, I've been waiting for this day to roll around ever since… well, ever since I got back from my last vacation in January. This time I won't be anywhere as tropical as Mexico, though. More like in the heart of Canada's biggest city, for my annual Drink Much Beer in Toronto© Week. The weather will not be nearly as warm as I'd like it to be, but who cares, I'll be full of anti-freeze!
And most importantly, NOT WORKING! Ya gotta just love it.
Day after day of lazing about, eating too much, the aforementioned imbibing of inebriates, sleeping-in until whenever -- oh yeah, and reading. I'll also drop in to my favourite bookstore just off of Yonge Street to nab a few gems -- as if I need yet more books! And I'm leaving right now for the first leg of it all, so I just wanted to drop in to say au revoir. At some point I will log in here to post some pics from my temporary lodgings at The Hilton. 
Have a great week, y'all.
*****

Roger's Version

John Updike is one of those authors who, when I read them, I find myself asking the question, "Dudes. Have your children read this?" Another John comes to mind… last name, Irving. These writers seem to be fearless regarding whichever reader's  sensitivities they may be over-activating. 
And I, for one, admire this.
Here in Roger's Version, published in 1986, Updike is true to form, every character having their demons loosened and running amok, it seems.
In this one, there is an added emphasis on that word "seems" though, because it's written in first-person by what can only be concluded to be a very unreliable narrator, a professor of church history, named Roger Lambert. The majority of the book is an account of stuff he cannot possibly know, for the most part.
You could say that the entire thing revolves around an imagined affair that his wife Esther is having with a young computer whiz kid -- a university student who approaches Roger hoping he can influence the tenured prof into negotiating a grant for him to fund a project wherein he is attempting to prove the existence of God.
Dale, the wannabe theological wunderkind, succeeds in getting the grant -- but at the expense of coming to loggerheads with Professor Lambert concerning the very goal of the project. Roger does not agree that the existence of God should become a proven fact. The reader begins to realize that Lambert's going-to-bat [as it were] for Dale, is a veiled desire to see the kid fail. And meanwhile, Roger concocts an elaborate and detailed affair between Dale and Esther. We are never sure if anything is really taking place as Roger imagines it to be. In a sense, everything within the book is Roger's "version" of it.
Even when he himself develops a lust-filled attraction to his highly promiscuous runaway niece, Verna. She is a mere 19 turning 20. This is the second inner stream of the story. Again, we are never really sure if we are getting an accurate record of what takes place. But if we are, then Roger is entertaining a roomful of demons moreso than everyone else combined, as they are, in his over-active imagination.
It is a well-written, well-conceived book.
I only wish I had read it earlier. As in, 26 years ago, when it was hot off the presses and I myself [in 1987] was entering a four-year course in theology. In and around the blatantly described sex scenes [imagined or not] the book raises a myriad of relevant questions about not only the existence of God, but existence itself. Reading it back then may have helped influence some of my own thoughts on these issues while I wrestled them to the ground for the next two decades. 
Then again, I still wrestle them today.
*****

Splash du Jour: Friday

To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.
-- Victor Hugo, Les Miserables --

Have a great Friday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Thursday

Writing criticism is to writing fiction and poetry as hugging the shore is to sailing in the open sea.
-- John Updike --

Have a great Thursday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Wednesday

Dave Letterman's

Top 10 Questions on the Easier SAT

10. A meatloaf is a loaf comprised of what?

9. What time is it? (You may use your watch)

8. Where you at dawg?

7. What city is not the capital of Kentucky?

6. Belch the alphabet -- check this box when finished [  ]

5. Is your name Duane?

4. Complete this People Magazine crossword puzzle.

3. Spell SAT.

2. Write anything in this blank: ________.

1. Using both hands and this map, find your ass.

Have a great Wednesday!

*****

Splash du Jour: Tuesday

Have a great Tuesday!

*****

Splash du Jour: Monday

If our brains were simple enough to be understood, we wouldn't be smart enough to understand them.
-- Anonymous --

Have a great Monday!
*****

The Power of Place

I hate filling out forms, of any kind. Absolutely hate it.
Recently, I had to fill out some rather lengthy forms for a top-level security clearance, for where I work. The thing had to be sent in to the government, and it has to be renewed every decade. I just handed the new one in, last week. Thankfully, this time around they sent along a transcript of my previous application, so I could just transcribe most of it onto the new one. But I noticed, from looking through the old one -- how many different places I had lived, on my way to here. Last time around, I had to do some research to recall all of my former addresses.
But this time?
Nope.
Just the one place.
Here.
Some people need a house. A backyard. A lawn to mow. Trees to trim. Eaves to un-clutter. A fence to keep re-staining. Etc.
I don't.
When my toilet malfunctions, I just make a phone call, and when I get home from work, a new toilet is there, and stuff. A handyman, I am NOT.
It's like living in a hotel.
When my stove decided it was time to die, next day I had a new one.
Do I scrape ice off my car in the morning ever? No -- it sleeps in an underground heated garage.
Just today, a friend said to me, "I'm re-evaluating all sorts of things right now so I tend to feel most people should too, I suppose.  If you're comfortable, content... dare I say happy, then you are exactly where you should be."
Often when people say this kind of thing, they are not speaking of just "location". 
I understand that.
But tonight I am thinking of "location". Narrowing it down to that.
I'm not an adventurous person, really. I do not need "change" a lot. Fact is, I hate change -- even more than filling out forms!
Prior to living right here, in this particular downtown apartment, I lived in a large house, with a couple of great room-mates. Upstairs, downstairs, backyard, deck, fireplace. And they were great people to live with.
But then one of them got married, and we sort of… disbanded.
I drove around randomly in my car, looking for a new place to live, on my own.
As I drove through the downtown, I found myself pulling in to the parking lot of what I considered to be the ultimate SUPREME-O place I would like to live. And I rang up the superintendent. He told me that none of the apartments were available at the time, but he took down my name and number and said he would call if anything turned up.
I had little time to wait. My pal was getting married and all.
But I'll never forget when I got the call on my work cell-phone. Someone wanted out of their lease, right here in my preferred building. I immediately said, "I'll be right there!"
An hour later I walked into the elevator with him, and I remember thinking "Oh my God, I hope he presses the number to the top floor."
He did.
We exited the elevator.
And I remember then thinking, "Holy cripes! I hope he walks to one of the corner units."
And he did.
The place was still furnished, the previous tenant not at all out yet.
The entire front of it was window, looking out onto the city, from the top [14th, in actuality, the 13th, due to superstition] floor. Massive full-length balcony.
I tried to mask my excitement with a mild, "Yes, this might do the trick."
But I must admit, inside I felt as though I had hit the jackpot. I remember thinking, "Hell, I wish ALL my friends would get married!" [And they pretty much did!]
I had moments of doubt, after signing the agreement and prior to moving in.  
Would I really be able to live in such a small space? It's only a one-bedroom place.
Now, more than 17 years later, I am not wondering anything.
The question does arise, though:
Will I live here until I cease to….. live, anywhere?
My answer to my friend's question today is, "Well, I think I happily, could."
I'm "happy".  
Still.
I'm exactly where I should be.
And I think that is a powerful thing to be able to say.
There is a book by Winifred Gallagher, called The Power of Place -- and I've always wanted to read it. But I haven't done so, yet.
Maybe I will yet do so, one day.
Nestled here, on top of the city. Cat purring, yonder. 
*****

Splash du Jour: Friday

Talent hits a target no one else can hit. Genius hits a target no one else can see.
-- Arthur Schopenhauer --

Have a great Friday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Thursday

The brain is wider than the sky
For, put them side by side
The one the other will contain
With ease, and you beside.
-- Emily Dickinson --

Have a great Thursday!
*****

Splash du Jour: Wednesday

Have a great Wednesday!

*****

Splash du Jour: Tuesday

When I was a young man, I was hurt by criticism. Now, when I am melancholy, I reread unpleasant words written about my work and am immediately cheered up. I tell my colleagues, "Always remember, there is no city in the world which has erected a statue to a critic."
-- From The Silence, a short story by Julian Barnes --

Have a great Tuesday!
*****

The Lemon Table

Lately I've had a bit of a renewal of interest in short stories. 
For the most part, I prefer novels. But just tonight I finished The Lemon Table by Julian Barnes -- a collection of eleven short stories, published in 2004.
Barnes writes with great wisdom and wit, and this is the third book of his I have read. I've never been disappointed with him. He's the caliber of writer I've learned to trust with my time. 
Know what I mean?
If not, indulge me while I explain such a statement.
Some writers have a natural gift of hmm… knowledge of the human condition. Honesty in expression. They are able to look fearlessly at despair and write about it without forgetting that humor yet has a part to play in the telling. Despair? Who wants to read about that? 
Well -- in the hands of an author like Julian Barnes -- I do.
In one way or another, each of these stories is an examination of our own mortality -- of course, as experienced in the characters. Yet, at no point did I find the book to be depressing. These stories, in their various scenarios, deal with loss, regret, descent into dementia and incontinence, loves realized too late in life, separation, problems in communication, selfishness.
Here's an example of the beginning of one of the stories:
He has his good days. Of course, he has his bad days, too, but let's not think about them for the moment.
And yet, Barnes goes on to think about those bad days quite a bit.
I'm making it sound so dismal -- the opposite of my intention.
If you are the type of person that cannot for more than a minute fathom the fact that one day a eulogy will be spoken about you while you are the only one in the room not hearing it -- then yeah, this book may not be your cup of tea.
For me, though, it served to help me realize that there is yet [knock wood and watch for buses] time to alter, in a positive way, what might be said about me that inevitable day.
*****

Splash du Jour: Monday

A book has got smell. A new book smells great. An old book smells even better. An old book smells like ancient Egypt.
-- Ray Bradbury --

Have a great Monday!
*****

The World: Pre-Vowels

The World: Pre-Vowels

Jm Stgsrs stumbled on the horizontal tree, knocked over last night by Tm Rx.
"Mthr f gd" he roared, falling to his front two knees.
What?
Dinosaurs do not have names? Who is writing this? You?
Whip out your iPhone and rip off a shot of a pre-human ape laughing, three trees over. It would go viral on YouTube. And do it quick, because already, Jm has moved on, banging the side of a cave entrance with his nose-horn. Diverting pain a prehistoric concept, as viable then, as now.
The ensuing racket awakened the tiger within. Again, what's with the dental problems?
Yawning until both hemispheres of her head nearly snapped apart, Srh leaned against her mailbox, a paw to her muzzle. "Jm! t's Sndy! Lng wknd! M hsbnd's stll slpng!"
And with this, she coughed into a blackened sky, falling down.
  
Last night there was a party. Look at the dusty beer bottles strewn about if you doubt it. A rumour was making the rounds. An entirely new geological age was about to commence. A prophet had predicted that when the Great Glacier made it past Pleistocene Point [known then as Plstcn Pnt] new cranial developments would render current understandings obsolete. 
"...bslt", the prophet intoned.
The chunk of ice rounded the foretold corner, just shy of midnight.
Every beast, nodding, thought it a reason to celebrate.
Wine flowed, among the ladies. The boys were cracking open beer caps with their eye sockets. Popping them off horns and backplates.
And then the meteorite struck.
At one point Jm, on the last night of the then-known world, climbed onto a picnic table, shouting many vowelless profanities, with joy in his heart.
But this morning he stumbled, and was the penultimate one to die.
Srh, the next to succumb.
Only the ape and his girlfriend, clinging to a branch, stuffing leaves before their noses and scrambling for cover, survived.
None of this was mentioned later, in the Bible or elsewhere.
But then again, who is writing this? You?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2014 --
*****