Peter Behrens's Blog, page 479

Peter Behrens Reading at Colorado College: My Brilliant Careerism, etc.

The French edition of my novel The O'Briens has just been published in Paris by Editions Philippe Rey. ( « La Seconde Guerre mondiale fait entendre tout du long son roulement de tirs d’artillerie et réduit en pièces la vie des personnages. Une réussite majeure. »  The  New York Times Book Review)  I'll be reading and talking (in English) at Colorado College in Colorado Spring next Thursday, March 27, 7pm.



  

Larry Levis "The Poet at Seventeen" and the Santa Rosa Rd.

            3/10/14   Fieldworkers, Santa Rosa Road, Santa Barbara CountyThe Poet at Seventeen
My youth? I hear it mostly in the long, volleyingEchoes of billiards in the pool halls whereI spent it all, extravagantly, believingMy delicate touch on a cue would last for years.
Outside the vineyards vanished under  rain,And the trees held still or seemed to hold their breathWhen the men I worked with, pruning orchards, sangTheir lost songs: Amapola; La Paloma;
Jalisco; No Te Rajues—the corny tunesTheir sons would just as soon forget, at recess,Where they lounged apart in small groups of their own.Still, even when they laughed, they laughed in Spanish.
I hated high school then, & on weekends droveA tractor through the widowed fields. It was so boringI memorized poems above the engine’s monotone.Sometimes whole days slipped past without my noticing.
And birds of all kinds flew in front of me then.I learned to tell them apart by their empty squabblings,The slightest change in plumage, or the inflectionOf a call. And why not admit it? I was happy
Then. I believed in no one. I had the kindOf solitude the world usually allowsOnly to kings and criminals who are extinct,Who disdain this world, & who rot, corrupt & shallow
As fields I disced: I turned up the same grayEarth for years. Still, the land made a glum raisinEach autumn, & made that little hell of days—The vines must have seemed like cages to the Mexicans
Who were paid seven cents a tray for the grapesThey picked. Inside the vines it was hot, & spidersStrummed their emptiness. Black Widow, Daddy Longlegs,The vine canes whipped our faces. None of us cared.
And the girls I tried to talk to after classSailed by, then each night lay enthroned in my bed,With nothing on but the jewels of their embarrassment.Eyes, lips, dreams. No one. The sky & the road.
A life like that? It seemed to go one forever—Reading poems in school, then driving a stuttering tractorWarm afternoons, then billiards on blue OctoberNights. The thick stars. But mostly now I remember
The trees, wearing their mysterious yellow sullennessLike party dresses. And parties I didn’t attend.And then the first ice hung like spider latticesOr the embroideries of Great Aunt No One,
And then the first dark entering the trees—And inside, adults with their cocktails before dinner,The way they always seemed afraid of something,And sat so rigidly, although the land was theirs.

                                                                                     --Larry Levis                                       

1988 Chevrolet C-10, Munjoy Hill, Portland Maine

Nouveau Three-Deckah, Munjoy Hill, Portland

1966 VW Microbus, Santa Barbara, Turista sticker

Remember those Turista stickers? This one was from 1970. Hey, I remember that trip...

Portland Maine 1940s Industrial Buildings

It's not all clapboard here in the State of Maine.

Falls Point Marine Freeport ME Big Fords

Someone at Falls Point Marine likes big Fords. Last time I looked there were three. Maybe they are breeding them.

1972 Plymouth Fury I

We like plainjanes and they didn't come much plainer in the early 1970s than the basic Plymouth Fury I. Furies went up to II and III depending on trim level. I think a III probably got you the vinyl roof. Fury I was standard issue for a police car: there's a piece in the current Hemmings Classic Cars about NYPD patrol cars, featuring a Fury I. They were large. Early 70s really was the land-yacht era, especially at Chrysler. The Big Three were just waiting for Japan to start eating their lunch: a meal that began with the reliable, though rust-prone, Datsun 510. Considering how popular that little 510 was, it's amazing how few survivors there are.  I think the steel in 'em wasn't that great, but at the time they were cheap and reliable. Wish I knew the backstory on this car: I think with the aerial on the rear quarter panel it must've been a police car. Very clean.

1932 Ford Tudor

Sunday morning on Coast Village Road in Montecito, there's a weekly gathering called "Cars & Coffee" which just about sums it up. Some nice machines, maybe a little to shiny for my eye, but
a nice scene. So much eye-candy I got a bit frazzled. The problem with even informal shows is that the cars get parked too close to one another so taking photographs is a challenge. But plenty of zoom in not much room.

'32 Fords of various profiles are of course an icon and we've featured a few before, including a pickup in No. California and a woody in Maine. And a different animal, a 34 Ford Deuce convertible, was spotted in Colorado in September. This car is cool. In Maine you still see a lot of fuzzy dice, too much chrome, too much paint, and hideous upholstery---but maybe we're getting back to old-school style hot rods, too. Nothing on the road here until May, though. (Road) Salt season will be running long this year.
One of the best finds of the year was the Speed Shop in Strong City, Kansas--remember this?

Colorado Comet 1963