the smedley log - suburban scrawl

Dead letter office

Happy Fourth of July to the passersby!

I realized a slow build up of thoughts has been sifting through my mind, things that would otherwise be discarded or forgotten. One thing is my report on the candidates forum at Bright Hope Baptist Church on Monday. Find it by clicking here, if you’re interested.

Then there’s John Oates, (from tonight’s Welcome America headliners, Hall and Oates) who wants to be my friend! Apparently, he’s actually using Twitter and reaching out a bit to the common folks. Of course, I accepted his overture of friendship. I’m not sure if I’m going to attend the festivities in center city tonight, but I was fond of Hall and Oates’ music coming up in the early to mid 80s, so there is a certain ache of nostalgia rumbling through my bones.

Finally, here’s an outtake from the Q&A section of the Chicago Manual of Style Online that was featured in a Harper’s reading from (I believe) the February issue. This one involves the “proper usage” of emoticons, via The Chicago Blog:

Q: Is there any standard for the usage of emoticons? In particular, is there an accepted practice for the use of emoticons that includes an opening or closing parenthesis as the final token within a set of parenthesis? Should I incorporate the emoticon into the closing of the parenthesis (giving a dual purpose to the closing parenthesis, such as in this case :-); simply leave the emoticon up against the closing parenthesis, ignoring the bizarre visual effect of the doubled closing parenthesis (as I am doing here, producing a double-chin effect :-)); or avoid the situation by using a different emoticon (some emoticons are similar :-D), placing the emoticon elsewhere, or doing without it (i.e., reword to avoid awkwardness)?

A: Until academic standards decline enough to accommodate the use of emoticons, I’m afraid CMOS is unlikely to treat their styling, since the manual is aimed primarily at scholarly publications. And the problems you’ve posed in this note have given us added incentive to keep our distance.

The thing that brought the emoticon question to mind is a letter I wrote to someone in the Modern Letter Project a week or so ago. It occurred to me that I don’t feel comfortable using emoticons in handwritten notes. But then how will they know I’m just kidding?

While I was away…

After ignoring the blog for almost a full day, I was a bit surprised to see that someone (my brother-in-law) had updated for me, with two fine poetic contributions from both a niece and a nephew, as well as a brief request for other dental considerations.

Not lost in the mix is the fact that I am now the subject of at least two pieces of poetry, and suddenly I seem to recall someone warning me to be careful what I wish for. But it made my day just the same.

And yes, the teeth are feeling somewhat better now.

To be the muse of just one bad verse

It is Easter. I am Christian, so of course I celebrate the rising of Christ. The thing is, while He may be risen, I have been totally worn down the past few days since having multiple wisdom teeth extracted.

One side of my face is disproportionately swollen. While it no longer hurts to chew per se, the swelling is a bit more than uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I attempted ham dinner with my family this afternoon. I even survived it.

In the spare time induced by missing work on Thursday and Friday (when I wasn’t in too much agony to use a computer), I attempted to add to my pain by working on a website project I’ve been struggling with for the past few weeks. It’s for my local union’s website. While I may not be the ultimate web developer, I firmly believe the results of my effort will represent a vast improvement in the quality and function of said website. But, oh, the pain of the process. Thankfully, it should be over soon. If only I had the same confidence with my aching jaw.

Extraction day (formerly known as Thursday) was quite harrowing, but things seemed to be looking up on Friday. So I tempted fate by heading into town for a taste of the Philly Film Festival with a random film society member who offered me some tickets. I saw three films (in succession). It didn’t seem too challenging at the time, but by Saturday morning, I wasn’t feeling well at all. Thankfully, Sunday has been a lot better to me (so far).

Getting to the final twist in this winding post, I was recently reminded that April is National Poetry Month, which left me wondering why I haven’t been able to write any decent poetry in a while. I sketched a few drafts on Thurs… er, Extraction night, but the mood was looking darker with each line.

Fortunately, a fine example of poetry is on display at Marisa’s. It was written by her mother, who recalls her childhood reactions to a homeless man in Philly. Since I was in a generally melancholy mood as I was reading it, the poem eventually caused me to ruminate on one of the following questions:

• a. Why haven’t we solved the scourge of homelessness yet in this, one of the world’s most affluent cultures?
• b. Whatever happened to the cardboard box man to whom young Marisa was reacting?
• c. Why hasn’t anyone (that I know of) ever written a poem about me?

If you guessed a or b, you clearly overestimate my ability to consider the plights of others while in acute pain. On the other hand, if you guessed c, you deserve the prize (not that I’m offering one).

It occurred to me that while I’ve written poems about other people I’ve encountered, I don’t believe I’ve ever been the muse of someone else’s verse. Which brings me to today’s question:

Has anyone ever written poetry about you?

It doesn’t have to be a great work of literature. It could be an old boyfriend composing really cheesy material about how you rocked his world. O maybe something by a family member (like your mom, for instance). It might even be a song by a garage band from your past. I’m just curious to hear from anyone out there who’s played the muse. And if so, what did it feel like?

Polonius

shut the doors on him;
let him play the fool nowhere
but in his own house.

(in honor of Scott’s new blog)

Subtle electric fires

One of my Whitman favorites:

O YOU whom I often and silently come where you are, that I may be with you;
As I walk by your side, or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,
Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.

– Walt Whitman

Just by being different

Caught sight of Dana Gioia’s poem “Summer Storm” in the Garrison Keillor-selected anthology Good Poems. It’s all about idealizing the road not taken.

Click here to read the poem at Gioia’s site.

Almost like having my own waiting room

I’d like to think my taste in periodicals is this eclectic, but it isn’t quite. Two of these are on my regular reading list. One was a free sample copy I signed up for online and the other had an article that intrigued me, so I bought a single copy.

An imaginary prize for the first commenter to correctly identify which magazines fit which statement.

Rating versions of Hamlet

As a sort of follow-up to the last post, here’s a list of the Hamlet versions I’ve seen on screen, ordered according to my taste.

1. A version from the late 1980s or early 1990s I saw on PBS, with Kevin Kline: best I can remember seeing. It’s probably recorded from a Shakespeare in the Park performance; I just wish I knew where to find it on video.
2. The 1948 version with Lawrence Olivier: flawed, but will always hold a high spot simply because I saw it first. (And, come on, it is Olivier)
3. The 2000 version with Ethan Hawke: done somewhat similarly to the DiCaprio/Danes Romeo and Juliet, but a better film (if you can get past the star factor).
4. The 1996 version with Kenneth Brannagh: pretty good – may have suffered from my expectations.
5. The 1990 version with Mel Gibson: seriously disappointing. I thought Gibson could have pulled it off at least a little bit.

A suggestion: before resorting to the Gibson version, might I suggest a spin-off instead?

Stowaway Ophelia

It was another Tuesday night open mic at the Point in Bryn Mawr, circa 2000-2001. A collegiate trio ambled up to the slightly elevated stage. Two guys and a girl with two guitars and a violin. The girl sang and played one of the six-strings for a Shakespeare-themed, brokenhearted love song. Her voice recalled the soothing tones of a mother in mid-lullabye.

I was so captivated by the sound I had to find them after they performed. They had a compact disc, which I paid for as I paid my compliments. The trio went by the name Ellipsis, which I thought was cute, especially when coupled with a CD titled And so on… .

The song they performed also piqued my interest because of a longtime fascination with Shakespeare and, more specifically, with the Hamlet scene from which some of the imagery in the song was lifted. The song, called “Stowaway Ophelia”, used the phrase “the more deceived” from a passage in Act 3, Scene 1 of Hamlet. Personally, I like to call it the “nunnery” scene. [Read more →]

working class hope

blue collar poet,
dreaming of ways to become
the next Bukowski.

Poetry inspired by Pennsylvania

Having grown up in the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, I’ve long been aware of its many wonderful attributes. A couple weeks ago I stumbled upon a book that chronicles some of those poetic inspirations. The book, which I found at the local library, is titled Common Wealth: Contemporary Poets on Pennsylvania (2005, Pennsylvania State University Press).

Edited by Marjorie Maddox of Lockhaven University and Jerry Wemple of Bloomsburg University, Common Wealth offers poetic tributes to Pennsylvania from a variety of writers, some from the Keystone State, and others simply making observations from an outsider’s perspective. One of the many pieces that struck me is Lynn Levin’s “If You Are Reading This,” which is written in a more prosaic form. The first stanza follows:

GIRL WITH DOG IN RAIN! Sweetheart, where are you now? Saw you at 16th and Walnut with your chocolate lab under an awning. It was raining parking lights and car horns. I was the guy double-parked delivering a tray of bagels to a corporate meeting. Nice stuff, 5 flavors, cream cheese with chives, butter daisies. Our eyes met, do you remember? I can’t get you out of my mind. [Box 347] …

With inspirations as diverse as the Commonwealth itself, this volume comprises contributions of authors ranging from Maggie Anderson to John Updike. If you’re a Pennsylvanian who’s curious about some of the poems for which your home state has played the muse, Common Wealth is probably a book you’ll want to check out.

(Who knows, they may even publish another edition someday that includes Autumn’s portrait of what it means to be an Eagles fan.)

Poetry meme

This is a meme I spotted at Bice’s, then at Poetry Thursday, but I believe it originated with Cam.

1. The first poem I remember reading/hearing/reacting to was…

Shel Silverstein’s “Colors.” It shows up right near the start of Where the Sidewalk Ends. I first read it when I was seven or eight. I was always a little weird, especially as a young child, so a poem celebrating personal peculiarity, as this one seemed to, was oddly comforting.

2. I was forced to memorize (name of poem) in school and…

I don’t recall being forced to memorize any proper poetry for school, unless you count Shakespearean lines. In my junior year of high school we had to recite lines from Macbeth for English class. I chose the soliloquy from Act 5, Scene 5 – the one that happens right after Macbeth learns of his wife’s death. You may not know what I’m talking about, but everyone’s heard lines from this passage; they litter pop culture – phrases like “Out, out, brief candle,” or “full of sound and fury.” I always thought it was a great set of lines to recite.

3. I read/don’t read poetry because…

I read poetry because I like the sounds and meanings of words, especially when someone with the gift of weaving them together finds a way to fuse the meanings with the sounds in a way that makes them seem as if they couldn’t be arranged any other way.

4. A poem I’m likely to think about when asked about a favorite poem is…

“The Writer” by Richard Wilbur. The imagery illustrates the struggles of adolescence, or of any other difficult growth experience, brilliantly.

5. I write/don’t write poetry, but…

I write poetry, but I’m constantly envying the skills of others. I’ve always been able to write fairly well, but I read so many other poets whose skill I instantly recognize as far superior. But I’m reminded of the Frost quote, “To be a poet is a condition, not a profession” – which must be true, because if it were anything but a condition, the combination of self-awareness and envy would probably keep me from pursuing poetry any further.

6. My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature…

Absolutely. Or was this supposed to be a “because” answer? If so, I’ll have to just say poetry has always struck me as more adaptable than, say, a novel or news periodical. I can almost always find a way to relate good lyrical text to something that already seemed to be inside me, whether an idea or a memory.

7. I find poetry…

Addictive. And that includes the things I see everyday that seem to beg for verbalization. Unfortunately, most of these things are far past my vocabulary to interpret adequately. (Or maybe that’s a good thing.)

8. The last time I heard poetry…

Was yesterday (I’ll limit this answer to the verbal kind). I was checking out Autumn’s revamped website, clicking on a few of the audio poems she’s posted. Makes me think I should attend a reading like I used to do every once in a while.

9. I think poetry is like…

The fusion of left and right brain. It’s ambidextrous human consciousness, forcing the abstract inside the concrete of the limits of language, and making the two seem as though they were made for each other.

Love’s austere and lonely offices

As I sneak my Father’s Day post just under the wire this year…

The following is from a Father’s Day meditation I posted two years ago:

My father’s not a loud man, not one to boast, even when he’s right and everyone else is pretty much wrong. In my youth I mistook his humility for weakness, but now I realize that the measured approach he took with life’s little twists and turns is what helped him not turn and run when times were tough. He taught me, among other things, that love requires humility (sometimes even humiliation) and that strength is more often demonstrated through patience than through brute force.

He has always been on the quieter side of things, revealing a sense of manhood that can’t be mimicked with the chest-beating machismo so often mistaken for manliness. Physically, he’s always been a strong man, but his intellectual depth and perspective are what have impressed me most as I’ve grown older, and some might even say, wiser.

Or in the words of Robert Hayden: [Read more →]

Giving the Bard his due

for some of the most over-used phrases in the English language. And I love Billy Shakespeare, so that’s not a knock on him…

(link via Scott)

Jack and Jill: the backstory

Coming from the typically talented Maria…

Quote of the day (for two weeks ago)

It is the test of a good religion whether you can joke about it.
-G. K. Chesterton

Today’s non-partisan quote

Her sister didn’t work and had never married.

What’s that title about? Actually, it’s the result of the following low-effort meme from Bob’s blog:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don’t search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.

Bob thought it would be cooler if he didn’t tell you which book he found his sentence in, but I wanted to reveal the book I found mine in, only because I’ve enjoyed so much of it. It’s a book I received for Christmas last year called, The Best American Essays 2004.

Oddly enough, since I’ve been reading it intermittently (which is made so much easier by the anthological nature of the book), this is the first time I’ve seen page 123, much less been aware of even one sentence on the page. But maybe now I’ll read that particular essay.

“remembered days” E. B. White

The title of this post is the set of search terms someone used to find this site recently. I mention that because it’s relevant to a post I wrote in the old format of this site. Remembered Days was written by an E. B. White, but probably not the E. B. White most people would think of.

[Read more →]

The kitschy Christian
(… and you’ve been left behind)

Bob has some good news for those of us raised in premillenial/evangelical backgrounds, at least those of us with fond memories of those low-budget movies about people who get left behind after the Rapture. (I included the wikipedia link because I realize this subject matter is quite a mystery to many outside of the background from whence I hail.)

And so as not to leave out the other, more current sensation that is the Left Behind series of novels, Slacktivist has been offering a weekly analysis of the popular book franchise that is routinely and painstakingly clever (I’m complimenting the analysis, not the novels).

Ah, brings back so many memories…