On pomegranates and other things



During a recent jaunt to Syria I was struck by the repeated use of one particular motif. It shimmered on finely woven cloths and loomed out of pagan stone carvings, the ever alluring pomegranate. Strange that this fruit which appears in almost every strain of our worlds ancient mythology (Persephone and Hades, 613 mitzvot, Bijapuraphalasakta) hasn't as yet had a full color, glossy laser printed coffee table book dedicated to it.

It does however get a mention in this odd poem that gives me a warm recollection of my homeland.

Many Colored Squares

by Philip Whalen

Why decide in advance what to do. Eucalyptus trees their shiny
leaves and polished crows. The opera of. Hummingbirds. MOVE,
an optimum crow and spider sparkle newly. Joe walks but
seldom touches the ground. Pause. Hammer. Pause. Wind. Crows.

What's in the oven. All the ingredients: quit opening the door if you want Dinner to emerge in less than a geological epoch. Oh. Busy. Hmmm.

Sniff.

Of something. The first fruits of man's disobedience was a
pomegranate—
The invention of Winter and Ambition—the joyful desiring. Flat out.

KONK

Much better under lots of Monterey cypresses and immense
blue-gum and lemon-wood; trees in the distance in front of the
ocean. Letch.

The disobedient mind is the fruit of inactivity swaying upon
dishonest boughs. The butcher's thumb lies weighty on the
scales. Tumble.

Minor chords are not sad. The Pyramids are still a secret.
Erasmus Darwin: The Botanic Garden.

The explanation isn't the same as what happens. A recipe can
produce a particular result most of the time.

Carrie turned all the matches in the same direction. Love and
Honor conspire to discipline the Factory.

Come with me, Joe.

Now when Bill gets here we will leave. Quite seriously. Stop
tittering.

Cut straight down the center it means twice as much. Free at
last. Or not. Hand lotion soothes my mind. Correspondence.

Scales uncolored in themselves produce a rainbow. Mountain
seafoot absolutely white? Iron curl. Start over. Start all over
again. Your feet are dirty on the bottom. I won't say
"Immesnsely so."

Container for insensible fruit?

Posted in: , on Tuesday, March 9, 2010 at at 11:23 AM 0 comments  

sense and sensibility

I think there comes a time when every girl who was fortunate/unfortunate enough (depending on your point of view) to have a mother whose inclination was to watch giddy period films, is reminded of a quote from Jane Austin.

This week I am reminded of a quote from sense and sensibility.

'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove. Oh no, it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.' - Marianne

Posted in: on Saturday, February 27, 2010 at at 10:08 PM 0 comments  

Poem. home 5.

Home 5.

chilly toes
better tuck them up
sit like a brooding hen
all plumpf, all eyes a
sparkle with pleasure
surveying the scene
a little slovenly
but gratifying yes
even delectably belly warming
or is that the
hot chocolate talking
both have the desired effect
magnifying the calming effect
of my vacant drifting feelings
bloating the brain
stained not blood red
but rose red
a tender shade of pink
to match these tender thoughts


(Sometimes the urge to write something silly and sentimental just can't be sedated)

Posted in: , on Tuesday, February 23, 2010 at at 8:56 AM 0 comments  

Haiti

When disaster on this scale strikes I'm humbled and shocked and horrified. When disaster on this scale strikes again on the news at 6, then on the news at 8, then on the news at 10, then on the late night news at 12:30 the shock ahh starts to feel a little less shocking. Bless the mainstream media channels and their repeated 30 second disaster clips detailing all we need to know for discussion around the water cooler. Bless them for turning the pain of thousands into a viewer ratings smash. As disenchanted as I am with the media these days there are blissfully some publications out there that try to go beyond the headline grabbing stories to bring us small pictures of the individual lives that have been altered forever in such a tragic and unforeseeable way.

My nearly six foot tall twenty two year old cousin - the beauty queen we nicknamed Naomi Campbell - who says that she is hungry and has been sleeping in bushes with dead bodies nearby, stops me.
'Don't cry,' she says. 'This is life.'
'No it's not life,' I say. 'Or is should not be.'
'It is,' she insists. 'That' what it is. And life, like death, lasts only yon ti moman.' Only a little while.

-Edwidge Danticat
The New Yorker FEB 1, 2010



Posted in: on Wednesday, February 17, 2010 at at 9:18 AM 0 comments  

Poem. home 4.

Home 4.

as it goes then not
so bad then
a chair a
table
put them together
elementary
productivity
as it should be
idleness
shot straight in
the face
a busied frame
is a frame full of
life

work life
public life
love life
family life
all needing oiling
constant monitoring
the pace must be
maintained
only the dead lie still
left to soak up serenity

Posted in: , on Monday, February 15, 2010 at at 11:39 AM 0 comments  

IT. Interior Superior

After descending down into 'the pit' today to drum up some help from the IT department it struck me how every organisation I've ever worked for has always deemed it necessary to dump our hard working nerd friends into the dankest, airless sub-basement office space in the building.

I cant imagine how hard it must be to watch the latest sci-fi flicks where the guy manning the computer console is always the center of attention in a sparse room filled with white light, electric colour and panic striken people looking for a hero.

Feeling sorry for my compadrios I'm considering giving this interior design team from Germany a plug at our next meeting. We might have to run a few LAN party fundraisers to bloat our budget a tad though....

N59 arkitekter

Posted in: on Monday, February 8, 2010 at at 12:26 PM 0 comments  

Not again with the phalluses!


I'm sensing a re-occurring theme as I trundle my way through the impenetrable tomes of the great philosophers... intellectual super stardom equals immense ego, dirty jokes and a strong oral fixation.

'Zizek positively fizzes with enthusiasm for anything that might be hoisted into the world of ideas, so much so that it is sometimes difficult to get him to shut up. When the photographer tells him to keep his mouth closed for the pictures, he dutifully obeys for about two seconds before launching into a half-serious aside in which he compares the camera to a phallus.'

Interview by The Guardian.

Image: Analia Hounie zikeks blushing bride, added for your viewing pleasure.

Posted in: on at at 11:30 AM 0 comments  

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