Peg Duthie's Blog, page 62

some days, sitting down doesn't get you far enough

Things bleed past where they should...


...and one repeatedly fails to find the correct angle...



It's okay. There are dishes to wash and books to hit.

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happy 127th birthday, Niels Bohr!

Google Doodle in Bohr's honor

Jim Ottaviani's Suspended in Language, one of my favorite comic books.

Not often in life has a human being caused me such joy by his mere presence as you did.
- Albert Einstein, in a 1920 letter to Bohr

"A Particular Truth - 1941" - my sonnet about Bohr and Heisenberg (first featured in Contemporary Rhyme; republished in Measured Extravagance )

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Maya Angelou, on "palate appeteasers"

When I make a chili, I always put about a quart away in the freezer in half-cup portions. Weeks or months later, long after the chili has first been served, I will get a hot dog bun, a Hebrew National wiener, prick it with a fork, broil it for a few minutes, and split it. Then I heat up the chili, put one half of the split hot dog on the bottom piece of bun, and put one heaping tablespoon of chili on the hot dog. I put away the other half for later. Next, I scatter a teaspoon of diced raw onion onto that concoction, then open an ice-cold beer and pour half of it into an ice-cold mug.

At that moment I will not only not answer the telephone, I will not respond, even if my name is called by someone who knows me well.

- Great Food, All Day Long: Cook Splendidly, Eat Smart (Random House, 2010)

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chemo caps and cupcakes

The last time I sewed anything of consequence with a machine was during my third year of college, for a musical. So it had been a while.

Mary Philips is a damn good teacher, the Janome machines are nice, and the handling a lot of pretty fabric for a good cause was the perfect way to get past a rather wretched Wednesday.

Although there were many good things about yesterday as well, including the Crackacino cupcake (coffee and chocolate, with a pudding center) at Sweet 16th:



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on hips, hips, and hips

On hips, 1: Last night's bedtime reading was parts of Alicia Drake's The Beautiful Fall: Lagerfeld, Saint Laurent, and Glorious Excess in 1970s Paris (2006). I picked it up mainly because it mentioned Colette Bracchi -- there's a photo of the winners of the 1954 International Wool Secretariat Competition that was recently reproduced in Vogue or Marie Claire or their like, with KL and YSL and CB, and as Drake observes, she "disappear[ed] into fashion oblivion." (To add insult to injury, her name's misspelled in the index.) I don't care enough about any of the people involved to spend more time with the book, but every now and then it's nice to glimpse the craziness populating other creative realms.

An aside, 1: UnFold published a micropoem+photo by me yesterday, titled "Hide."

On hips, 2: Tried on three pairs of jeans on chez Target. One of them fit me waist-wise, but not only were the legs too long (as is usual), they were too skinny. I am just going to have to get the hang of riding in skirts, is what.

An aside, 2: The editor of Overplay/Underdone (Medusa's Laugh, forthcoming) sent a message today, about proofs being ready. I am wicked excited about this.

On hips, 3: the rogue rosebush by my kitchen is currently displaying hips in three phrases -- fresh, orange-crinkled, and blackened:



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more time with everything

...would be nice. But I'm doing what I can with what there is. Including making envelopes from old French workbooks.



:-)

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the sour and the sweet lurking everywhere

wild strawberries near a utility meter

Sometimes I have to point out to myself that the reason I need a nap is because I didn't actually get enough sleep. Today has been one of those days. But it was a wonderful nap, and the rest of the day wasn't shabby, either: I spent the morning helping out with a vaccination event, which included great conversations with two students (one pre-med, one pre-nursing) and the mom of an actor, plus some nice perks (a free flu shot, snacks, a t-shirt, and an Au Bon Pain gift card); dealt with some errands; and stopped by the Frist (thank you, Smithsonian!)-- the Carrie Mae Weems exhibition is immense, and I'll need to go back to take it in properly.

Also, the big roses facing Broadway always cheer me up whenever I manage to notice them.

I'm spending the rest of the weekend mostly working, but the stack of library books is also calling to me. Of the books in the "To Return" pile, I especially enjoyed Grandpa's Soup, a picture by Eiko Kadono and Satomi Ichikawa. Ichikawa is one of those clever illustrators who create secondary narratives in the background that a more casual or hurried reader might miss -- in this case, the changing contents of the vase next to Grandma's empty chair. I also liked the changing shadows in the screen door of Grandpa's kitchen.

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riding to and from Jerusalems

From Israel 2009 - set 4
Bus terminal, Jerusalem, 2009

Yesterday evening, the fabulous Lora lured me away from the APA corral for Literary Libations. We spent most of my hour there chatting with Mike Pentecost, who has a lot of stories about riding buses around the country, some at his blog and more in his new book, Bus People. We also talked about the business of trade shows (as with buses, there's a whole different universe to learn about when one spends more than a few days in that realm) and about networking in Nashville.

I used to ride the bus regularly between Chicago and Berea (KY), and it's how I got around Israel as well, so the conversation brought back a host of memories, as well as sending me to some of the photos I still haven't gotten around to organizing (and, eep, where did I stash my post-Eilat albums...?).

( a few peeks at the past )

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whales and tales

Yesterday, the Velveteen Rabbi posted a Yom Kippur sermon, In The Belly of the Whale, that's richly seeded with stories, including this one...

My teacher Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi tells a Sufi story about a great teacher whose disciples wanted to learn his mystical wisdom. Okay, said the teacher; here is a dove; go someplace where no one can see you, and kill it, and when you come back, I will teach you what you want to know.

Of his 12 students, eleven came back with dead birds, and he sent them away. One returned with the living dove. "I couldn't find a place," said the student, "where no One could see me."

...and question-observations that are at once not easy and un-easy (myself shying away from the mirror as I choose a quote):

How much of our lives do we spend fleeing from what matters? From the awareness of our mortality? From the acts of lovingkindness we know we should be doing? From the brokenness of the world, the awful stories on the news, murder and rape and injustice? Even from our loved ones, when we choose checking email again on our smartphones rather than putting away the electronics and connecting with our parents, our children, ourselves?

This is not new. The internet offers new and fascinating ways of fleeing, but this inclination is as old as humanity.

Also yesterday: 7x20 published my micropoem "Yom Kippur."

Also: on Tuesday, Moment published a review of my book (quoting from my Kol Nidre poem, among others).

One more thing on whales: Moby Dick Big Read -- as in, Tilda Swinton, Stephen Fry, Neil Tennant, and others podcasting That Big Book. Whee!

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figments of memory

Athens, October 2011

The advent of fall has made me nostalgic for walks in and around markets where the people around me are speaking Greek or French, and where I feel triumphant at deciphering simple labels.



There's plenty to do, here at home. Thanksgiving will be here within the blink of an eye. There are plenty of markets and shops within a few miles of my house that I have yet to become acquainted with.



I'm greedy. I want to linger among my souvenirs of the past and steep fully in the present and get on with acquiring and sharpening the skills my future self needs in her toolbox.



And this is what the past and present tell me about the future: you will keep losing parts of yourself, and you will keep building on what remains.

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