"Things I Know
by Joyce Sutphen
I know how the cow's head turns
to gaze at the child in the hay aisle;
I know the way the straw shines
under the one bare light in the barn.
How a chicken pecks gravel into silt
and how the warm egg rests beneath
the feathers—I know that too, and
what to say, watching the rain slide
in silver chains over the machine
shed's roof. I know how one pail
of water calls to another and how
it sloshes and spills when I walk
from the milk-house to the barn.
I know how the barn fills and
then empties, how I scatter lime
on the walk, how I sweep it up.
In the silo, I know the rung under
my foot; on the tractor, I know
the clutch and the throttle; I slip
through the fence and into the woods,
where I know everything: trunk
by branch by leaf into sky."
Monday, December 21, 2009
The Loneliest Job in the World
"The Loneliest Job in the World
by Tony Hoagland
As soon as you begin to ask the question, Who loves me?,
you are completely screwed, because
the next question is How Much?,
and then it is hundreds of hours later,
and you are still hunched over
your flowcharts and abacus,
trying to decide if you have gotten enough.
This is the loneliest job in the world:
to be an accountant of the heart.
It is late at night. You are by yourself,
and all around you, you can hear
the sounds of people moving
in and out of love,
pushing the turnstiles, putting
their coins in the slots,
paying the price which is asked,
which constantly changes.
No one knows why.
'The Loneliest Job in the World' by Tony Hoagland, from Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty. © Graywolf Press, 2010. Reprinted with permission"
by Tony Hoagland
As soon as you begin to ask the question, Who loves me?,
you are completely screwed, because
the next question is How Much?,
and then it is hundreds of hours later,
and you are still hunched over
your flowcharts and abacus,
trying to decide if you have gotten enough.
This is the loneliest job in the world:
to be an accountant of the heart.
It is late at night. You are by yourself,
and all around you, you can hear
the sounds of people moving
in and out of love,
pushing the turnstiles, putting
their coins in the slots,
paying the price which is asked,
which constantly changes.
No one knows why.
'The Loneliest Job in the World' by Tony Hoagland, from Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty. © Graywolf Press, 2010. Reprinted with permission"
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Starwood
The Temptations.The first concert I went to. I was five years old and it was at Starwood (wow, remember Starwood?!). Herman's Hermits opened for them. I'm tempted to say that they just came out and played "Henry the Eighth I Am" six or seven times in a row-but I also know that it's not true. But it would make the story so much funnier...
So Herman's Hermits opened up for them and all they did was play "Henry the Eighth I Am" six or seven times in a row and then said good night. I guess they realized that as a one hit wonder the audience was only interested in their repetitive hit being played repetitively. That concert started a long time love of live music for me. Hearing "Ain't Too Proud To Beg" over the speakers was like hearing a friend tell a familiar story-one that I had heard before and knew the ending to. The sense of community in the audience was something I had never experienced before-not even at church. People were giving each other high fives and laughing and dancing with perfect strangers.
Ten years later, my dad took me back to see The Temptations and The Four Tops played with them this time. It was just as magical a decade later, even in that weird cynical stage that most 15 year olds pass through-it was awesome.
Starwood. I still remember when they announced that they were going to close Starwood. It was Valentine's Day 2007. Lightning 100 broke the news to me on my way to my patho-physiology class at Vanderbilt. I cried in the car and intermittently throughout the day. It was the saddest Valentine's Day I've ever had. Which is saying a lot because I've never had a good Valentine's Day.
I miss Starwood ever single summer. I miss Starwood in such a specific way that I think most people reserve for missing a lost lover. I miss the curve of the lawn and the way that summer sky felt larger for some reason sitting on the lawn. I miss the elated senses that came with an encore. I miss feeling more beautiful than ever under the stage's overflowing lights. I miss going to sleep after a show and being exhausted from joy. I miss waking the next morning with little tingles in my stomach reliving songs and hard to reach notes. Every July it feels like Dave Matthews Band season-like an anniversary celebrated alone. They played at Vanderbilt recently, but that just seems wrong to cage Dave Matthews Band indoors. They belong outside, playing uninhibited while their audience dances barefoot in an excited thunderstorm. At least that's how I'll always remember them.
Even now, even after two years of grieving and courting other venues and having multiple one night musical stands: I miss Starwood.
So Herman's Hermits opened up for them and all they did was play "Henry the Eighth I Am" six or seven times in a row and then said good night. I guess they realized that as a one hit wonder the audience was only interested in their repetitive hit being played repetitively. That concert started a long time love of live music for me. Hearing "Ain't Too Proud To Beg" over the speakers was like hearing a friend tell a familiar story-one that I had heard before and knew the ending to. The sense of community in the audience was something I had never experienced before-not even at church. People were giving each other high fives and laughing and dancing with perfect strangers.
Ten years later, my dad took me back to see The Temptations and The Four Tops played with them this time. It was just as magical a decade later, even in that weird cynical stage that most 15 year olds pass through-it was awesome.
Starwood. I still remember when they announced that they were going to close Starwood. It was Valentine's Day 2007. Lightning 100 broke the news to me on my way to my patho-physiology class at Vanderbilt. I cried in the car and intermittently throughout the day. It was the saddest Valentine's Day I've ever had. Which is saying a lot because I've never had a good Valentine's Day.
I miss Starwood ever single summer. I miss Starwood in such a specific way that I think most people reserve for missing a lost lover. I miss the curve of the lawn and the way that summer sky felt larger for some reason sitting on the lawn. I miss the elated senses that came with an encore. I miss feeling more beautiful than ever under the stage's overflowing lights. I miss going to sleep after a show and being exhausted from joy. I miss waking the next morning with little tingles in my stomach reliving songs and hard to reach notes. Every July it feels like Dave Matthews Band season-like an anniversary celebrated alone. They played at Vanderbilt recently, but that just seems wrong to cage Dave Matthews Band indoors. They belong outside, playing uninhibited while their audience dances barefoot in an excited thunderstorm. At least that's how I'll always remember them.
Even now, even after two years of grieving and courting other venues and having multiple one night musical stands: I miss Starwood.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Office: The Great 'Whomever' Debate
This is, in my opinion, the greatest scene in The Office. It made me want to become an English teacher just so that I could use it in my classroom. Be sure to look out for Michael's aside about Oscar not being a 'native' speaker. Classic.
Powerthirst
I feel like this represents every commercial for anything I've ever seen. Marketing is so bizarre.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRuNxHqwazshttp://
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRuNxHqwazshttp://
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