My friend and writer (who you should definitely be following, subscribing to etc.) Amanda Machado was inspired by Ocean Vuong’s poem “Notebook Fragments,” to start composing end-of-year poems out of the fragments found in her phone notes.
I was thinking of a friend who has endured insurmountable grief in losing a child in a tragic accident. Despite the grief, she is reluctant to engage in therapy (for anyone in her family - including her young son who was present for the accident and loss of his sister) - and I told her that sure, they'd make it without help, but that would be tantamount to climbing the mountain instead of taking a ski lift each time. I know therapy isn't that easy, and the analogy doesn't exactly translate, but it seemed to resonate a little. And, when I find myself refusing to give myself the help I need, I turn back to it - take the lift, Jessica. <3
Dearest Courtney, I'm overwhelmed by this sublime poetry of Amanda Machado and I hope to see much more of it! I've also been inspired by Ocean Vuong's "Notebook Fragments," so we have this in common, though not an ability to compose verse. If only I could claim this gift! However, this theme of end of the year poetry reminds me of the renowned writing of my favorite poet, seldom mentioned in the west, even in anthologies. This is Rabindranath Tagore, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1913.( He was recommended for this award by William Butler Yeats). The relevance of Tagore is immense because of his classic book entitled "Nationalism", an essential and vehement critique of the monstrous evils of nationalism. The finest of his poetry contained in this volume, entitled "The Sunset of the Century", was a sonnet composed on the last day of the 19th century.
It begins: "The last sun of the century sets amidst the bloodred clouds of the West and the whirlwind of hatred. The naked passion of self-love of Nations, in its drunken delirium of greed, is dancing to the clash of of steel and the howling verses of vengeance. The hungry self of the Nation shall burst forth in a violence of fury from its shameless feeding. For it has made the world its food."
One incredible aspect of this magnificent condemnation of nationalism is that it was written 14 years before the First World War began, so its prescience is uncanny. Tagore was inspired by the hideous international violence of the 19th century, climaxing the Boer war in South Africa, rooted in imperialism and racism. Yet even Tagore couldn't have imagined the horrors of Nationalism throughout the 20th century, although he died in 1941, long enough to witness the beginnings of WW II.
Now we see the continuing scourge of nationalism, e.g., "Make America Great Again!" in the U.S. and wonder if the world will ever be spared the lethal virus that has over centuries killed more innocent victims than COVID, et. al. We desperately need eloquent poets to direct their vision and skill as Tagore did, against nationalism and all its variants, not excluding patriotism. I regret that I lack the ability to be among them.
DD (Dennis Dalton, prof. of Pol. Sci., Barnard College, and proud former teacher/present student of Courtney).
AND now I'm following! What a beautiful poem. I interviewed Ocean when he was graduating from the MFA program at Brooklyn College (I was on the college's magazine). His back story (he had just gotten a stable living arrangement after bouncing around homeless, sometimes sleeping in Grand Central Station's waiting room) just blew me away--he was (remains) so open to the goodness of the world. There's few people these days more gifted and inspiring, especially for writers.
“My favorite quick fix to get back into the energy of well being is a bubble bath with salts, essential oils, a candle, a glass of wine, a facemask, meditation music or just the quietness under the water when I float in zero gravity. I combine like two of these, depends on the mood. When I drain the water and rinse off under shower, I imagine all the negative residue rushing down the pipe and released into nothing. It always works! I have a different light and my spirits are lighter.” - Mihaela
I'm an engineer, so my notes are like half numbers- not quite as lyrical ;)
164 ft x 364 ft (no additional text)
Pipe slope 1" every 10' and should be 12" below ground at downspout- eek.
Go the whole wild world
Assuming 40 ft to rain garden entrance, 4" or 16" below grade
Distressed wood - cheap semigloss white paint, cream wax, polycrillic spray finish
Granny's memorial: Trinity, slide show (extra cost), pictures and flowers
Shelves 11.5 x 29.5
Papa was a radar man and helped the planes land
Fruit trees: apple, pear, pear, peach, cherry, plum
WOWOWOW. I love this. So much.
Bellamy: "My name is pequeno. Yours is bird. Dad is grundit. Emmy is perk."
Emery: pumpkin - bumpa
Tonight I feel seen and understood. I will be ok. We will be ok. Don't forget this feeling.
Frosty222 (no additional text)
Masks, weighted blanket, wine glasses, coloring books, sleeping pills (hello hard year haha)
Lambert the sheepish lion
I'm bleeding through and they're blathering on...
PIO Protocol to share
Vanilla latte (no additional text)
Bucket list: lavender farm, tulips in Holland, Northern Lights
I can't prolong his pain to prevent mine. It is time.
Ski lift therapy analogy
<3 <3 <3
SOOOO curious about so many of these. "Ski lift therapy analogy" especially. Such a portrait of 2021.
I was thinking of a friend who has endured insurmountable grief in losing a child in a tragic accident. Despite the grief, she is reluctant to engage in therapy (for anyone in her family - including her young son who was present for the accident and loss of his sister) - and I told her that sure, they'd make it without help, but that would be tantamount to climbing the mountain instead of taking a ski lift each time. I know therapy isn't that easy, and the analogy doesn't exactly translate, but it seemed to resonate a little. And, when I find myself refusing to give myself the help I need, I turn back to it - take the lift, Jessica. <3
What do we want to spread?
Great question - good to ask ourselves every day.
Mum's mms
Fun activities
2- 4 x 3
Greg & Laura
Boswellia
In Search of April Raintree
A Castle for Christmas
Dearest Courtney, I'm overwhelmed by this sublime poetry of Amanda Machado and I hope to see much more of it! I've also been inspired by Ocean Vuong's "Notebook Fragments," so we have this in common, though not an ability to compose verse. If only I could claim this gift! However, this theme of end of the year poetry reminds me of the renowned writing of my favorite poet, seldom mentioned in the west, even in anthologies. This is Rabindranath Tagore, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1913.( He was recommended for this award by William Butler Yeats). The relevance of Tagore is immense because of his classic book entitled "Nationalism", an essential and vehement critique of the monstrous evils of nationalism. The finest of his poetry contained in this volume, entitled "The Sunset of the Century", was a sonnet composed on the last day of the 19th century.
It begins: "The last sun of the century sets amidst the bloodred clouds of the West and the whirlwind of hatred. The naked passion of self-love of Nations, in its drunken delirium of greed, is dancing to the clash of of steel and the howling verses of vengeance. The hungry self of the Nation shall burst forth in a violence of fury from its shameless feeding. For it has made the world its food."
One incredible aspect of this magnificent condemnation of nationalism is that it was written 14 years before the First World War began, so its prescience is uncanny. Tagore was inspired by the hideous international violence of the 19th century, climaxing the Boer war in South Africa, rooted in imperialism and racism. Yet even Tagore couldn't have imagined the horrors of Nationalism throughout the 20th century, although he died in 1941, long enough to witness the beginnings of WW II.
Now we see the continuing scourge of nationalism, e.g., "Make America Great Again!" in the U.S. and wonder if the world will ever be spared the lethal virus that has over centuries killed more innocent victims than COVID, et. al. We desperately need eloquent poets to direct their vision and skill as Tagore did, against nationalism and all its variants, not excluding patriotism. I regret that I lack the ability to be among them.
DD (Dennis Dalton, prof. of Pol. Sci., Barnard College, and proud former teacher/present student of Courtney).
Oh thank you! . Now will be this and this and this all day.
Stopped by this especially—“I’m in pain and I have an idea for you.”
Yes, isn't that interesting? I can't remember where I heard it.
I’m thinking of it as an expression of a colonizing mindset.
Before Florida: plant garlic, cover fig trees, water plants
Take off days
Hill here
Urban.
measuring at all the widest points
(also just subscribed to Amanda's newsletter!)
AND now I'm following! What a beautiful poem. I interviewed Ocean when he was graduating from the MFA program at Brooklyn College (I was on the college's magazine). His back story (he had just gotten a stable living arrangement after bouncing around homeless, sometimes sleeping in Grand Central Station's waiting room) just blew me away--he was (remains) so open to the goodness of the world. There's few people these days more gifted and inspiring, especially for writers.
“My favorite quick fix to get back into the energy of well being is a bubble bath with salts, essential oils, a candle, a glass of wine, a facemask, meditation music or just the quietness under the water when I float in zero gravity. I combine like two of these, depends on the mood. When I drain the water and rinse off under shower, I imagine all the negative residue rushing down the pipe and released into nothing. It always works! I have a different light and my spirits are lighter.” - Mihaela
I am sorry I got upset
Ice locked up the lake
A collection of related things:
Mike's vase, Abby's vest, my grandfather's spoon.
Eggs, broccoli, beets?
True love is a responsibility, the lasting kind.