Spring will come again, people say. Yet I am heartsick. Nothing will happen when spring comes; That child will not come again. Nakahara Chuuya, “Spring Will Come Again” Note: the poem was written after the death of Chuuya’s first son, Fumiya, in November 1936
I recently had an epiphany. 1> I’m definitely getting older, and 2> being a parent really restricts your enjoyment of popular music. You start to see stalkers where you once saw admirers. You see pushy potential abusers where you once saw ardent and determined wooers. Here's an example of what I mean: I was listening … Continue reading One of those, “you know you’re getting old when…” moments.
Even at my age, I have dreams about missing school deadlines. I’m sure a psychiatrist would say I’m feeling that things are out of control, or there are other deadlines I’m stressing about. She’d probably be right. However, sometimes they are a godsend. The other night, I had a dream about an unfinished school project. … Continue reading Sometimes the Writing Comes to You
Early this morning, I had the "Phony King of England" running through my head. In it, Little John sings, "Oh the world will sing of an English King thousand years from now And not because he passed some laws Or had that lofty brow" And it suddenly occurred to me, the only thing most people … Continue reading Irony, thy name is Disney’s Animated “Robin Hood”
Hillaire Belloc: "When I'm dead, I hope it may be said, his sins were scarlet but his books were read." Fr. Hunwicke's suggestion for a memorial plaque on a park bench (he hates the idea of them): IN MEMORY OF THE REVD JOHN WILLIAM HUNWICKE MA Oxon HE WAS A SPLENETIC MISANTHROPE WHO LOATHED NATURE* … Continue reading Things that strike me as darkly funny or clever.
“Smell is the most powerful trigger to the memory there is. A certain flower or a whiff of smoke can bring up experiences long forgotten.” – Rupert Giles, “Buffy the Vampire Slayer: I Robot... You Jane” Sometimes, I miss my maternal grandparents' house in Chicagoland as much as I miss my grandparents. My Grandma Mary … Continue reading The Spot
The Ides of March by Lisa E. Pugh with apologies to Dr. Seuss The citizens of Rome liked Julius a lot. But the Senators at the Capitol did not. Those men loathed Julius, right down to his sandals: His power, his ego, his ambitions and scandals. His tongue was too clever, his manner too slick. … Continue reading In honor of the day….
This was inspired by a real experience this weekend and a photo prompt in my writing group. Country Winter Deep Snow, Biting cold, Cutting wind swirling ice shards into the air. Leafless trees, Like silent soldiers standing picket in a white battleground. Frozen skin, bone-marrow icicles, No weather for yoga pants.
You ever have that weird mental jump when two separate things suddenly become connected in your mind? And then you can't seem separate them again, ever? With me, it's the song "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen and "Kubla Khan" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. I know: "Where the heck did that come from?" Perhaps it's the effect … Continue reading Connections