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Michael Parker's Journal
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Wednesday, August 31, 2005 |
Gas prices jumped ten cents in between the morning and evening commute today. I was unfortunate to refill the tank after the price hike. You can just imagine my demeanor when I returned back to work. Let's just say I was roaring on the inside--King Kong angry.
When I emailed my friend to tell him the news, he replied, speculating that my trip to refill the car was as exciting as being "greased up and bent over..." and ready for the rubber-gloved nurse to administer a proctology exam.
My reply was simply: "It wasn't so kind. It was a shit-caked boot kick right up the arse!"
And to make matters worse, I just spied this news headline on CNN.com this evening: "Experts Predict Gasoline Prices to be $4."
Also today, another friend happened to email me a link to this animated music video called "I Can't Afford My Gasoline." Go ahead and listen to it. It's so fitting! It's clever. Besides, it's a polka. And anyone can dance to it, especially the kiddies!
8:07:10 PM  | |
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Tuesday, August 30, 2005 |
I took the time tonight to catch up on the news coming out of Mississippi and New Orleans today. I sat in front of CNN and viewed their gallery of photos of the damage in the affected areas. I watched a a couple of their live feeds from Biloxi. I saw the 26 foot high storm surge come into town; it reminded me of the raw footage of the tsunami raging up the shore into the resort huts and restaurants.
I read that volunteers are having to push aside the bodies of the dead in order to concentrate on finding those still alive. They are painting black symbols on the fronts of houses as a sign that the house contains bodies. They don't have the bandwidth to deal with the dead, nor the electricity or refrigeration to store them. News stations have talked all day about the numbers, 80 known dead. But they all include a qualification that these numbers are expected to rise.
Seeing all of the destruction, I can't help but think $26 million dollars is a gross underestimate when it comes to the cost of clean-up.
Lastly, I read that this disaster is going to bring about a gas crises. Ummm, weren't we already in a gas crisis?
But most importantly: To those of you who have lost family members and loved ones in this tragedy, to those who have lost their homes and property, I'm terribly sorry for you loss. My heart goes out to you.
10:14:05 PM | |
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Monday, August 29, 2005 |
I decided that there was going to be no way that I was going to get any of my reviews ready in time to post tonight. So, I'm just dropping a note to let you know that I'm working on a film review for The Upside of Anger and The Sea Inside. I'm also working on a music video review for IL DIVO's newest video "Mama."
P.S. My wife, J, and I went to see Terry Gilliam's The Grimm Brothers last Friday night. It was alright. Entertaining? Yes. Warrants an official film review? I'm afraid not. It's a thrown together script in the vein of last year's Van Helsing -- the fairy tales the Grimms created come to life in one episodic story plot that becomes too unwieldy. It really stretches it viability as a film when a blob of mud chases down and devours a little girl, only to transform into the gingerbread man who jumps into the village well. Yep, that's story-telling at its most clever. Let's just say that The Grimm Brothers is better than Van Helsing; and I deeply loathed Van Helsing.
9:22:28 PM | |
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Thursday, August 25, 2005 |
I have just finished reading Elizabeth Kostova’s masterfully written tale about Vlad the Impaler, whom legend says became Dracula. Titled The Historian, it is not only one of the best books I have had the pleasure of reading, but it is the book that Bram Stoker himself should have written over one hundred years ago.
The Historian opens as the narrator (who is never named in the 600+ pages of the book) begins to tell the events of her journey to save her father, only to end up coming face to face with Dracula. At the beginning of her story, she is a prepubescent girl just old enough to sense that toys and dolls have lost their interest; they’ve been replaced with books and friends and movies and shopping.
Her father, Paul, a diplomat, travels Europe frequently, meeting with ambassadors and heads of state. Her mother, Helen, died tragically long before she could even capture a memory of her--the sound of her voice calling her name, the scent of her hair as she pulled in close for a hug, or even a smile on her face. She remembered nothing and dared not ask her father about her, knowing that that topic left him discouraged for days.
One afternoon while her father is on a trip, she sneaks into his personal library and finds an old copy of Kama Sutra. Opening the book, she discovers a bundle of letters written on fragile, old paper. Curious, she unfolds one of the letters and reads a most disturbing letter. This discovery fails to rest easily on her so she enquires about the letter. Her father, realizing that he cannot keep his and their family’s secrets hidden forever, begins to reveal a story of ancient books, violent deaths of acquaintances and pets, how he met Helen (later to become his wife), travels to old ruined cities and monasteries across the Baltics, and run-ins with government spies, secret organizations, and vampires. We meet scholars, professors, and members of secret orders who wish to help Paul and Helen find and kill Dracula; and those who have been charged with the task of keeping his presence a secret.
Written in the style of Brown’s The Da Vinci Code, (even though Kostova began writing this book ten years ago), The Historian, indeed, is a fascinating tale.
Kostova’s prose is literary. It is erudite, utterly convincing in the manner it lays out the history of Vlad and his transformation into Dracula.
One of the most poignant moments in this book occurs when our young narrator has been reading the description of Vlad burning young boys and impaling his captors. She writes of this moment of realization in such an eloquent and wise manner: "For all his attention to my historical education, my father had neglected to tell me this: history's terrible moments were real. I understand now, decades later, that he could never have told me. Only history itself can convince you of such a truth."
Kostova drops many more gems such as this throughout her intricately layered story. Her attention to detail is impressive and paints such a vivid picture that she leaves no dead zones in your imagination--windows have their shadows, cobbled streets echo, the waves upon the sea react to the changing of time, and darkness is never a hollow void.
What Kostova accomplishes with this incredible novel is utterly astonishing in its breadth. Not only does she resurrect the legend of Dracula, but she retells it with such seeming historicity and conviction that it will stoke the fires of vampire lovers to last a millenia.
******
Additional information on the author, book, and Sony’s upcoming film, visit The-historian.net
The Historian is published by Little, Brown and Company: First Edition, June 2005.
10:59:22 PM | |
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Monday, August 22, 2005 |
I sit here in my comfortable home, surrounded by the comforts of Western life. I commute 40 minutes to work every day and though it has become a bigger burden on my family, we can afford the ever increasing price for gasoline. We eat very well. We can afford to go to the best doctors and receive the best medical attention, even though the cost of insurance is also on the rise.
In every aspect of my life, I cannot fathom having to live under the conditions in modern day Darfur. It would be absurd of me to say so.
Since 2003, nearly two million people have been displaced by a campaign of genocide undertaken by the Sudanese government and bands of Janjaweed militia against the people of Darfur. Of this number, 80,000 to 400,000 estimated have been ruthlessly killed.
From the haunting article "They Came at Dawn and Killed the Men," written by Ewen Macaskill and published by the Guardian on June 8, 2004, we get a sense of the unimaginable, the horrific details of murder on a grand scale. Macaskill narrates:
During a three-hour flight over Darfur, hundreds of blackened and scorched villages were starkly visible against the red desert. Mrs Mousa walked for three days to reach Kalma after the Janjaweed militia attacked her village, Shatee, west of the Mara mountains, two months ago.
"They came at dawn, at 4am. They came on horses, donkeys, camels and Land Cruisers. They burnt the houses and killed the men and many of the male children. I don't know if my husband is alive or dead."
She fled with her four sons and three daughters, but one of her children, Omar Abdul Rahin, seven, died on the way.
The same week this article appeared, The Washington Post published an editorial titled "300,000 Deaths Foretold." In this article, the paper validates the structured system of ethnic cleansing employed by Sudan. Consider this explanation:
Sudan's government is delighted with this slaughter. It perfected the art of ethnic cleansing in its long war against the country's southern rebels, and it has expertly repeated the process in Darfur. The formula is to destroy villages using a combination of informal militias and government air power, then to deny relief organizations access and let starvation do the rest. When international protests heat up toward the boiling point, some humanitarian access is granted, but it's always late and inadequate.
We are at another important junction in our knowledge of the situation in Darfur, especially when the news of the genocide there is relegated to footnotes while news of the unworthy and ridiculous receive prime-time coverage, specifically the Michael Jackson court case and verdict; the Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes relationship; and the Runaway Bride.
To compound the insanity, word got out today that the television stations NBC, CBS, NBC-4, CBS-9, and Gannett (the parent corporation of CBS-9), are not going to air ads regarding the grave situation in Darfur. Their decision to not air this video is a most egregious one.
If the genocide of Rwanda taught us anything, it is that political support from the international community is key to putting pressure on those instigating the genocide. If this pressure is not applied through financial and material means, well then, nothing happens, the killing and rape continue unabated.
There are situations that demand our knowledge and support. Darfur is just one of them. (And I appreciate the fact that Darfur is just one of many hotbeds of chaos, but should this stop us from helping?)
Last year, Terry George’s vivid and unflinching depiction of genocide in his film Hotel Rwanda revealed far too much about history and humankind, mainly that we have a capacity to ignore, be privy to, or initiate lies, hate, abuse, and murder.
Specifically, he introduces us to a mere sampling of the cleansing that ravaged Rwanda in 1994, in which over one million Tutsis were slaughtered.
But he also revealed to us how humankind has the propensity to do amazing things in the face of atrocity. George’s film is primarily about Paul Rusesabagina, a hotel manager (and Hutu) who took in and eventually saved 1,286 Tutsis refugees (including his own wife and children) from being slaughtered by the Hutu militia. Some people step forward in the only way they know how , or out of the basic need to survive, and by this act take upon them the salvation of many. Paul was such a human.
But the primary point that correlates so poignantly with Darfur is that Rusesabagina was forced to act on his own because the international community lost its interest and thus the political support literally shut down.
I am writing tonight as a member of the human family, on behalf of many souls I have never met. But I know, as sure as I am sitting here, that if I let these words of encouragement and persuasion stay unread or unheard, that many will fall to the sword and to the suffering that accompanies it.
Don’t you think that it is high time that we make genocide newsworthy? I do. People can't help eradicate genocide if they are not aware that it is happening. To these media corporations: please allow your stations to play these ads. I assure you your good viewers will take the reigns from there and act.
And to you readers who feel strongly about humanity, I encourage you to get involved in any way you can.
In the closing moments of the video series The Ascent of Man, the philosopher James Bronowski walks out into a pond. Around him are the remnants of old battlements and buildings. "This is the concentration camp and crematorium at Auschwitz," he explains.
"This is where people were turned into numbers."
As Bronowski’s expensive loafers are completely submerged under the surface of the pond, he gets down on his haunches, reaches down into the water, and with both hands brings up dark-colored mud, the color of coal and ash.
"Into this pond were flushed the ashes of some four million people," he exclaimed. "And that was not done by gas. It was done by arrogance...."
In junior high, I first learned about the Holocaust. I remember seeing black and white footage, footage after footage of the deportations of thousands of people. We even saw footage of men and women, barely clothed, starved to the point where they looked like the walking dead, flesh stretched out upon brittle bones.
I remember Shuree Harrison suddenly became ill and had to race out of the room. That was the day we learned about the evil of mankind, when people became branded and segregated and numbered. We realized that people can die as numbers.
This is the nature of genocide. It strips us of our dignity and of our basic rights as members of the human family. And, most appallingly, it strips us of our name, that little piece of us we know and like to think even God recognizes.
With the shadows of genocide’s painful past stretching over us into our future, do we walk deeper into it, lose site of one another, and eventually lose even ourselves? Or, do we act with the foresight to step out of the past’s grasp and walk each other out into the sun? This is the vantage point upon which we now stand. Where do we go from here?
*****
For more information regarding the Be A Witness for Darfur organization, click here.
For news, commentary, and advocacy regarding stopping the genocide in Darfur, please visit the blog Passion of the Present.
11:04:10 PM | |
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Friday, August 19, 2005 |
My friend Shawn and I were playing over-dramatic fools today via email. He chided me for replying to one of his political emails with a mere "thanks," without additional commentary or insight. (I was busy and couldn't afford to.) He figured for an uber-columnist I would be more creative with my reply. This was my reply to him:
For Shawn
I won't wear that mask right now, not for you;
won't resurrect the voice of Whitman or Shaw, for you.
I won't entertain the Muses impatient in the hall;
won't listen to their song that echoes off these walls.
Rather, I'll rip the pearls from their tongues, reverse them back to sand.
And threaten their very life if they dare utter your name again.
5:51:07 PM | |
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Thursday, August 18, 2005 |
I used to work at a convenient store when I was trying to find a job after graduating from university. I worked on state street and center, in the heart of the city. I worked the night shift.
The following poem, "Winter Ghost," is based on a man I saw walking the streets in a heavy snow storm one late night while working. The experience still haunts me today.
Winter Ghost
The snow storm silenced the city noise.
People disappeared. Streets transformed
into white rivers you could walk out on
and listen for the sound of cracking.
A figure stepped in and out of the triangle glow
of street lamps like a ghost. His head he hid
under the gray blanket he wore like a shawl.
Arms held tight to his chest, and hands thrown
under the armpits of his tattered coat, he haunted
the walks between concrete and glass facades.
Finding the dumpsters empty, he disappeared
into the dark snow falling in an alley.
There will be no trace of tracks come morning.
© Copyright 2005. Michael Parker
8:32:20 PM | |
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Tuesday, August 16, 2005 |
The music video for IL DIVO’s monstrous international hit song "Regresa a Mi" is marketing at its best, and, I have to admit, successful, employing that time-tested rags-to-recognition story. In this case, the nearly cliched storyline is given a new face and it works.
More than this, short films and music videos have to focus on expressions and body language that advance the story quickly and with less effort than regular feature films. This is tricky because the performances can easily slide into maudlin, disastrously cheeseball and overtly dramatic. Here, the performances are reigned in well enough to avoid this effect, on the whole.
As the video begins, we see the tenors leaving their homes, families, and countries to travel to their new home, which in this video is a crowded sound stage complete with an orchestra. They’re in the act of preparing the song, "Regresa a Mi" for a debut performance. Their vignettes of the past, of leaving, are woven in with scenes of their rehearsal. For example:
Urs not only is leaving his family and homeland but his lover. We see him followed by a throng of townspeople down to the old fashioned train that he hops on. As the train pulls away, he stands at the window and waves to his dark-haired, olive-skinned lover.
Sebastian, on the other hand, worked with his brothers and father at the shipping dock at the local village. When he leaves, we see him approach his brothers and father to say goodbye. His brothers give him a hearty goodbye hug. But his father stands aloft, continuing to work. Sebastian begins to walk away but turns, as if he is going to approach his father. And though his father stops working, and for a split moment appears as if he himself is going to turn toward his son, he holds back and looks to the wood planks he so solidly standing on. Sebastian turns slowly and walks away.
Carlos has much more at stake by leaving. We see him standing on the street, looking up to an open window on the second floor of an old Spanish villa. A young woman stands there, holding a wrapped infant tightly in her arms. She is obviously not happy with him and Carlos reaction is one of reciprocity and understanding. He’s torn from this decision. We can see it in the way he looks at her, in the way he stands, and in the way he carefully moves away.
David’s story, however, is not as emotionally involved as Sebastian’s or Carlos’. We simply see him walk away from his job as a steel worker. (I’d leave that job for anything, even working the fryer at McDonalds.)
One by one, these three tenors and a baritone walk onto the sound stage, complete with a full orchestra and a smiling conductor who comes up to greet them. As they rehearse the song with the orchestra and voice coaches, we see forlorn glances, a telling worry peeking out behind their eyes and sitting upon their brows, wondering if they made the right decision in leaving what they had and knew. We see them holding a bound catalog of sheet music, each worn from nervous rolling and bending and marking and dog-earing. We sense they are making this work because they are sacrificing so much.
And as they practice, we can’t help but be caught up in the haunting melody that took Toni Braxton to the top of the charts when she sang the English version "Unbreak My Heart" back in the 90's.
But this Spanish version is utterly mesmerizing. The translation has a soft, airy quality in which the long vowel sounds dominate and allow the flow of the song to move you. You could bask in them forever if you could. There exist no heavy guttural sounds or disrupting cacophony throughout the song. And regarding their voices, these four tenors have rich voices that dance perfectly around each other’s harmony.
So, by the time that these four tenors walk onto a stage in an old opera house filled to capacity with erudite and sophisticated patrons, we know they have the quality to impress. And impress the audience they do, as they sing the final chorus with that tenor-like fortissimo that makes opera the beloved spectacle that it is. The video concludes with the audience on their feet. They’ve won over their hearts and we’ve gone along for the journey.
To see the video Regresa a Mi, click here.
Who is IL DIVO?
Simon Cowell, yes, the very Simon of the American Idol fame, and his marketing team have put together a noteworthy boy band called IL DIVO –David Miller, Urs Buhler, Carlos Marin, and Sebastien Izambard.
What makes IL DIVO different than New Kids on the Block, Backstreet Boys, N’SYNC, etc. is that they are four formally trained tenors. So, ummmm.....they can really sing. Check out the link to their video "Regresa a Mi" and see for yourselves.
Consider for a moment their biographies:
David Miller (America) is a graduate of Oberlin conservatory in Ohio; he has a BA in Vocal Performance and a Masters in Opera Theater. He has sung over 45 operatic and musical leading roles with opera companies throughout North and South America. The latest role on Broadway was in Baz Luhrman’s acclaimed La Boheme.
Urs Buhler (Switzerland) studied voice at the Amsterdam Conservatory and spent over seven years singing oratorios and performing with the Netherlands Opera.
Carlos Marin (Spain), the baritone of the group, has established an illustrious resume that includes leading roles in the Spanish versions of Les Miserables, The Man From La Mancha, Beauty and the Beast, La Traviata, The Barber of Seville, La Boheme, and Madame Butterfly.
Sebastien Izambard (France) is the only self-taught singer in the group, which isn’t meant to be taken that he is not skilled or experienced. He’s an accomplished songwriter and performed a leading role in Richard Cocciante’s musical Le Petit Prince.
IL DIVO’s first DVD is a world-wide phenomenon. Sales for their album are impressive. They are 4x Platinum in Britain, 3x Platinum in Ireland, 2x Platinum in Australia and Canada, and Platinum (sold over 1 million units) in Finland, Hong Kong, New Zealand, Norway, Spain, and the United States. Sales have passed Gold status (sold over 500,000 units) in Austria, Belgium, France, Portugal, Singapore, South Africa, Sweden, Switzerland, and Taiwan.
My favorite songs from their CD are "Regresa a Mi" and "Nella Fantasia", which is the song based off of Gabriel’s Oboe from Ennio Morricone’s score to the motion picture The Mission.
There are many fine songs in this collection, especially "Moma" which pulls at your heart-strings a bit too much but nonetheless is touching. Maybe in their sophomore effort, they will limit the pop-opera aspects and rearrange some classical works, like Sarah Brightman did with "Nessun Dorma."
To visit there website and sample a few of the tracks that have been released (Regresa A Mi, Mama, and Nella Fantasia) go to http://www.ildivo.com/
********
Note: Thanks to the members of the IL DIVO forum at ildivo.com for pointing out a couple of silly discrepancies with my article. Yes, Carlos is the baritone. (I referred to them as the four tenors because that is how I was first introduced to them.) And Regresa a Mi is Spanish, not Italian. For this latter error, I am most ashamed of. Forgive me.
11:17:15 PM | |
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Sunday, August 14, 2005 |
Updated site. Added links to poetry and some of my articles so far this year. I hope I didn't mess up the table structure in the navigation panel.
Second attempt at test.
Third attempt.
10:35:53 PM | |
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Happy 3rd Anniversary Mark Hoback on your excellent online magazine Virtual Occoquan! This issue is chuck full of the best of Salon blogs, including yours truly, who submitted "The Return," a poem inspired by the beginning scene in the film Young Adam, starring Ewan McGregor.
I have not finished reading through the issue but I can tell you how much I enjoyed Paul Hinrich's commentary on Cindy Sheehan, titled "Dumb Question."
Other participants in this issue include:
Ian Wood, Elsa Panizzon, Steve Raker, Ed Buziak, World O'Crap, Karen Murphy, Katy Hipke, Birdie Jaworski, Jack McGeehin, Simon Lavitagus, Molly South, Case Wagenvoord, Leslie Talbot, Mike Doughten, Glutter, and, of course, Mark Hoback.
Again, congratulations Mark on your 3rd! Long live VO!
9:37:04 PM | |
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Saturday, August 13, 2005 |
Last night my friend Brian and I ran 16 miles. We started at the top of South Fork Canyon and ran back to my house.
I like running with Brian because his gait throws off an echo–it always sounds as if there are two of him running. I like to think it is his shadow or his guardian angel alongside for the run. The first time I heard this, I thought another runner had come up behind us and was waiting for me to get over. So I pulled over to the side of the path to let him run by. (It’s a heavy-footed runner and so it is a him.) I then turned my head over my shoulder to see who the runner was but there was no one there. That is how I was introduced to his running shadow.
Over the many training runs we’ve done together, I’ve learned that he runs in different places. If Brian and I are running side by side, sometimes he’s right in front of us, playing the role of protector. Sometimes, he runs at the back of our heels, our rereward. This year, since I’ve been struggling with speed because of my operation two months ago, Brian often is running faster than I am and runs in front of me. When Brian is in front, his shadow runs between us or to my side.
It’s a sound I’ve become accustomed to and have grown quite fond of.
Speaking of sounds, when I couldn’t run because of my illness and then because of having to recover from the operation, I longed to get out and run without listening to my digital mp3 player. So for the past month, that is what I’ve been doing, running music free so that I could get back in touch with the sounds of running in nature.
Along this path I frequent, there is a river. Last month, it was swollen and fast. This month, it is lean and meek. It used to have the sound of roaring lions; now it’s a serene folk song sung sometimes by a tenor, other times by baritone.
Other than the river, the campgrounds have the sound of picnics and campers, children scampering about. Skateboarders and bikers rush by, leaving the sound "shoosh" or "zeezzz" ringing in the ears. And the wind carries noises out of the trees, down off the rock cliffs, off the mist of Bridal Veil falls, and down from the canyon benches. Nature is alive–portals in the air seem to open and close, trees are caught speaking with their limbs and leaves, the wind sucks and howls, and the sound of rocks falling and sliding give the impression of the earth opening one of its many doors to the underground.
Last night was the first night I took my mp3 player. Because this was the first 16 miler of the summer, I needed music that would help my mind not think about the aches and pains in my legs. After 5 miles into the run, after I got to listen to Brian’s shadow and the sounds of nature going on about me, I put on my headphones and turned on the music. By mile 12, I was very glad to have the music.
What did I listen to?
I started off with five or so selections of Madonna’s Ray of Light, followed by a few songs from U2's latest and greatest CD How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb. Next on the player was a few songs from Harem, by Sarah Brightman. I ended off listening to one of my favorite CD’s of all time, The Lion and the Cobra, by Sinead O’Conner. In fact, one of the songs I had put on the MP3 player was so fitting and prescient to what’s happening in the world that I kept hitting replay. The song is "Drink Before the War."
Here are the lyrics for your preview:
Well, you tell us that we're wrong
And you tell us not to sing our song
Nothing we can say will make you see
You got a heart of stone
You can never feel
You say "oh I'm not afraid - it can't happen to me
I've lived my life as a good man
Oh, no you're out of your mind
It won't happen to me
Cos I've carried my weight
And I've been a strong man"
Listen to the man in the liquor store
Yelling "anybody want a drink before the war?"
And your parents paid you through
You got a nice big car
Nothing bothers you
Somebody cut out your eyes
You refuse to see
Somebody cut out your heart
You refuse to feel
And you live in a shell
You create your own hell
You live in the past
And talk about war
And you dig your own grave yeah
But it's a life you can save
So stop getting fussed
It's not gonna happen
And you'll cry
But you'll never fall
No, no, no
You're building a wall
Gotta break it down
Start again
No, no, no It won't happen to us
We've lived our lives
Basically we've been good men
So stop talking of war
Cause you know we've heard it all before
Why don't you go out there
And do something useful
Oh listen to the man in the liquor store
He yelling "anybody wanna drink before the war?"
"Anybody wanna drink before the war?"
"Anybody wanna drink before the war?"
WE ended quite strong. We didn't have to walk. And yes, we're still quite far from marathon pace and miles; we commented whether or not we'll ever get there. Let's just keep at it; take each training run as they come.
P.S. Thanks for the run Brian!
11:58:52 PM | |
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Tomorrow night marks the third Beauty Dish Radio Show, which I am proud to be a participant of. Birdie, the host of the show, has scheduled this to fall on the 3rd anniversary of the online magazine Virtual Occoquan, that highlights the best of Salon.com blogs. (Happy Anniversary, Mark!)
This month’s Beauty Dish Radio Show features original stories (including Birdie reading her story appearing in VO), songs, and rants from fellow bloggers:
Bonnie of Wandering Willow
Didi of Mipoesias e-zine
Mike of Chew Toys
Flat of The Compleat Flat
Ulak of Turkish Coffee fame
Jack of Peeling Wallpaper
Stephanie of Blither, Blather, Bloviate
Besides this, Birdie plays a myriad of music, dedications, and other melodic warblings to keep the show lively and fresh.
Catch the frequency at 6:00 PM (Pacific Time) and enjoy!
11:01:47 PM | |
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Tuesday, August 09, 2005 |
The Editor In Chief of MiPoesias, Didi Menendez just made it official today, welcoming me on board the MiPoesias staff as a monthly columnist. My column, When the Muses Come to Visit, will cover art, entertainment, possibly a smidgen of sociology, and anything to do with the written word, be that poetry or prose.
Thank you Didi! I'm thrilled with this opportunity to be part of a great staff of writers. This is an exciting time for the magazine and it's just an honor to be on board.
As the November kick-off publication nears, I'll post more details. But I can say that you will not want to miss reading this issue!
To view the very well-received July edition of the magazine, edited by Gabriel Gudding, click here.
9:28:52 PM | |
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Monday, August 08, 2005 |
I had some inspiration today and finished a poem I had started earlier this spring. It's dedicated to my kids, M (9) and K (5).
Walking to the Cineplex
On these city streets you can't hear
the sidewalks echo the clickity-clack
of our anxious feet. They're submerged
drowning in the noise of passing cars,
prattling pedestrians, the sounds of them
walking, strutting, shuffling–the rub of
cloth against cloth.
The windows of each establishment
capture us like carnival mirrors--
See my mushroom head! Look!
A tire hangs about your chin.
I could drive into that grin on the road
you paved with hearty giggles.
The multi-plex greets us with neon "Hellos"
we flock to like summer bugs, mesmerized.
Yet, from the twinkle in your eyes I sense
we’ve finally discovered Oz.
© Copyright 2005. Michael Parker
8:25:56 PM | |
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Thursday, August 04, 2005 |
I’m still working hard at my contract job this evening. But my friend Rex, who has collected poems for years, just sent me one of his favorites.
Rex, I can see why you like it. On its face, it’s haunting and disturbing. It brings back images we’ve seen from war-ravaged towns and villages; it’s people walking around with big eyes; fear as their shadow. I’ve read that people lose sense of who they are living in the war zone. Charles Simic’s poem Empire of Dreams is a poignant reminder of this fact.
Empire of Dreams
-- Charles Simic
On the first page of my dreambook
It's always evening
In an occupied country.
Hour before the curfew.
A small provincial city.
The houses all dark.
The store-fronts gutted.
I am on a street corner
Where I shouldn't be.
Alone and coatless
I have gone out to look
For a black dog who answers to my whistle.
I have a kind of halloween mask
Which I am afraid to put on.
6:04:18 PM | |
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Wednesday, August 03, 2005 |
Now this, dear friends, is more like me, except for the hair. I'm a bit more thinning than this.
On another note, I have been non-existant on the blog lately. I've been trying to wrap up a contract job. It should be finished within the next two weeks.
I'll post when I get a chance.
Note: Radio wouldn't let me post last night. Will it post this today? Let's try.
11:27:50 PM | |
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Monday, August 01, 2005 |
Okay, so this doesn't really look like me. I have a toothy grin and there were no features that offered "teeth." Nor do I have an oblong face. Mine is more square.
Nonetheless, this Picasso Portrait tool called Mr. Picasso Head was great fun to play around with. You can try it out yourself by clicking HERE.
P.s. Thanks Pris for the idea!
Note: I removed my first attempt at a Picasso Head. It was dreadfully ugly. It's so nice having the power to delete such things.
8:21:48 PM | |
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