David Cranmer's Blog, page 87
August 16, 2013
Sacred
This is my daughter Ava Elyse turning the pages of her cousin Kyle Knapp’s posthumous collection of poetry, Celebrations in the Ossuary. She got first look at the proof copy that arrived this week.
Kyle would play his guitar, and Ava would dance to the music he played. Her fascination with guitars started when she was just months old, watching for a still shot of an acoustic guitar pop up on the screen of the cable TV Jazz channel. We bought a mini acoustic guitar for her, and since neither her mom nor I can carry a tune let alone play a musical instrument, she was transfixed when Kyle played. We left Ava’s guitar there with him the last time that we saw him.
One time, my sister went to move the guitar out of the living room, but Kyle brought it back and placed it next to his. He told his mom it was “sacred” and the instrument needed to stay put—next to where he wrote, played music, and worked on his poetry.
There was a message on his twitter account from December 13, 2012, that read “learned to play all of Franz Ferdinand’s ‘Walk Away’ on baby Ava’s guitar this morning. lol couldn’t sleep.”
Thank you, Kyle, for loving my daughter, writing a poem for her we consider sacred. I should have Ossuary out, as promised, by your birthday.
Kyle would play his guitar, and Ava would dance to the music he played. Her fascination with guitars started when she was just months old, watching for a still shot of an acoustic guitar pop up on the screen of the cable TV Jazz channel. We bought a mini acoustic guitar for her, and since neither her mom nor I can carry a tune let alone play a musical instrument, she was transfixed when Kyle played. We left Ava’s guitar there with him the last time that we saw him.
One time, my sister went to move the guitar out of the living room, but Kyle brought it back and placed it next to his. He told his mom it was “sacred” and the instrument needed to stay put—next to where he wrote, played music, and worked on his poetry. There was a message on his twitter account from December 13, 2012, that read “learned to play all of Franz Ferdinand’s ‘Walk Away’ on baby Ava’s guitar this morning. lol couldn’t sleep.”
Thank you, Kyle, for loving my daughter, writing a poem for her we consider sacred. I should have Ossuary out, as promised, by your birthday.
August 12, 2013
August 5, 2013
On Thunder Road with Bleeding Wrists
This past March we were in Freeville, along Fall Creek, to visit one of the last of the hipsters (more on this in a later post) who was talking to me about dreams and what we can learn from them, like reaching the great beyond, etc. I had my doubts. Still do. (Damn, he mentioned a book I can't remember at the moment). Nevertheless, I told him that I used to record my dreams as a twenty-something. Well, a few weeks ago, after recalling our conversation, I started again. My friend Charles in Louisiana has devoted blog posts on his midnight exploits which I always find fascinating. So I've decided to post some of mine here from time to time. An example of my journey into dreamtime from 7/31/13 in North Charleston, South Carolina, around 3:45 am:
I am sitting in a parked Honda Civic on a dirt road that heads up a hill on the George Junior Republic property in Dryden, NY. A group of juveniles pull up behind me, making me nervous. The car won't start, but after a few tries, I manage to get it going and race away with the kids staying tight to my bumper. The cheap Hollywood scenery is sliding past like I'm Lucas Doolin roaring away on Thunder Road. At the hilltop, I make a fast right off the road to lose them ... Fades to: I pull into a reality show contest where I am told by the amiable African American host that I can win twenty bottles of the finest wine! But for my part of the contest (though there are no other contestants) both my wrists are slashed, and, if I remain standing for a length of time, I will win the wine. After bleeding buckets and buckets of red, I'm told to "place my wrists perpendicular" to stop the bleeding ... I wake up before I get the prize!
Usually, I can point to events, conversations, news articles or the like from the days beforehand to explain away certain aspects, but that takes the magic/mystique/crazy out of it, right? So I'll just post them as is. Any dreams you care to toss out, leave 'em here in the comments.
I am sitting in a parked Honda Civic on a dirt road that heads up a hill on the George Junior Republic property in Dryden, NY. A group of juveniles pull up behind me, making me nervous. The car won't start, but after a few tries, I manage to get it going and race away with the kids staying tight to my bumper. The cheap Hollywood scenery is sliding past like I'm Lucas Doolin roaring away on Thunder Road. At the hilltop, I make a fast right off the road to lose them ... Fades to: I pull into a reality show contest where I am told by the amiable African American host that I can win twenty bottles of the finest wine! But for my part of the contest (though there are no other contestants) both my wrists are slashed, and, if I remain standing for a length of time, I will win the wine. After bleeding buckets and buckets of red, I'm told to "place my wrists perpendicular" to stop the bleeding ... I wake up before I get the prize!
Usually, I can point to events, conversations, news articles or the like from the days beforehand to explain away certain aspects, but that takes the magic/mystique/crazy out of it, right? So I'll just post them as is. Any dreams you care to toss out, leave 'em here in the comments.
August 4, 2013
August 3, 2013
The Mysterious, Ruby-Encrusted Bracelet and Garnet Elliott's Whereabouts
The middle-aged, ruggedly handsome editor over at BEAT to a PULP is offering up "Vin of Venus" as a free download for several days. Bydgoszcz's renowned Paul Brazill and I worked on the first "LoVINg the Alien" installment and then Mr. Garnett Elliott catapulted the proceedings into the pulp spheres with his continuing storyline. A strange but goody mixture of crime/noir and sword and planet that's best described like this:
The novella ends on a cliffhanger, but I feel it's a very satisfying breaking point while we all wait for Garn to return from the Kingdom of Bhutan, where I have it under the strictest confidence that Henri Ducard himself is training GE in the arts of stealth and fear as a candidate into the shrouded League of Shadows.
Until then, readers and scribes of all ages, enjoy "Vin of Venus" and have a stellar weekend.
Vin, bereft of half his limbs and his memory, struggles between two worlds--the mist-shrouded, verdant hell of ancient Venus and the mean streets of modern Europe--battling both alien monstrosities and underworld villains on his quest to recover his identity. Along the way he is aided by an unlikely cast of allies, as well as the mysterious, ruby-encrusted bracelet that serves as the only link between his heroic past and grim present.
The novella ends on a cliffhanger, but I feel it's a very satisfying breaking point while we all wait for Garn to return from the Kingdom of Bhutan, where I have it under the strictest confidence that Henri Ducard himself is training GE in the arts of stealth and fear as a candidate into the shrouded League of Shadows. Until then, readers and scribes of all ages, enjoy "Vin of Venus" and have a stellar weekend.
July 31, 2013
Somewhere in Time
Grandma Sheila labeled the photo, "Somewhere in Time"
you know, the one of you and me standing along Fall Creek
did she snap the shot, Kyle?
I really can't remember
I’m guessing I was home on leave from the Army
And you must have been, what, about seven years old?
Damn, look how young we were
And, no, I won’t allow myself to be sad
‘Cause I can hear you saying
“Those days will come again,
They were eternal, after all…”
July 22, 2013
July 18, 2013
July 14, 2013
In Praise of Speak, Memory by Vladimir Nabokov
Speak, Memory covers Vladimir Nabokov's colorful life from his exile from his beloved Russia as Lenin's revolution scoured the land to his love of netting butterflies, and, in a poetic and absorbing way, he brings the past back to life (especially when he recalls his mentors and servants) as he traces his line from 1903 until his immigration to America in 1940.
I realized, yesterday morning, upon finishing Speak that I didn't have the chops (there you go) to review this extraordinary biography with the dexterity necessary to get you, dear friend, to buy it yourself. So, not so much of a review here as an indirect recommendation from my nephew through me with my enthusiastic endorsement to you. A clip from the opening paragraph:
"The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness."
Agree or disagree, either way, see how beautifully the words dance? The whole memoir moves at that cadence. Mr. Nabokov was a self-described synesthete, and I'm sure seeing the world through his unique prism only adds to the beauty of this biography.
I realized, yesterday morning, upon finishing Speak that I didn't have the chops (there you go) to review this extraordinary biography with the dexterity necessary to get you, dear friend, to buy it yourself. So, not so much of a review here as an indirect recommendation from my nephew through me with my enthusiastic endorsement to you. A clip from the opening paragraph:
"The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness."
Agree or disagree, either way, see how beautifully the words dance? The whole memoir moves at that cadence. Mr. Nabokov was a self-described synesthete, and I'm sure seeing the world through his unique prism only adds to the beauty of this biography.
July 12, 2013
Pluvial Gardens in Print
I know Kyle's smiling over Pluvial Gardens in print (CreateSpace and Amazon). A portion of the profits will go to, at his parent's request, Tompkins Cortland Community College where Kyle was working toward a degree in Social Sciences. I'm now in the middle of editing his second collection of poems -- Celebrations in the Ossuary -- and hope to have it completed by September 1st, in time for what would have marked his 24th birthday.
