Mar's escape from Christianity.... true story

A true story and a little known fact: Though I am a heathen mezzo these days, and an atheist/naturalist - I was once a fundamentalist evangelical Christrian for seven years, during which I actually attended a bible college for three years. In this video I tell the story of getting converted at 14 and then what made me flee the whole ideology at 21.....

http://www.youtube.com/v/Uz4BrY28J7c&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0

Tangle – a drawing, a social statement

We view everything through the veil of our own madness...

Though we are together, we are also caught up in our own stuff... which tends to block out what other people are really doing, saying, intending.

 This is a pencil drawing of mine from a few years ago and though the people are near each other, not one actually is looking at any of the others.....  Each has a different angle, and different range of sight, each is facing in a different direction...

Finding a new niche....

Okay for years you were boss.... had an office to go to, people who awaited your judgments and executed them, who held you in respect. Now you are toast, no title, no job, no house. Now what?

One of the things you have to re-invent is the way you relate to other people - and you have to find people to relate to. You cannot sit home glued to Monster.com or Craig's List or the newspaper want ads - all shrinking like a shallow puddle in the afternoon sun. You can not just churn out resumes week after week, accruing rejections like a manic unknown writer.... without beginning to crumble under the lack of interest unless you take steps to reach out in other ways.

Human connection and the esteem and comfort conveyed by it are health giving and life affirming. Feeling you have some utility is important, it's a reason to survive.

So - you need activities that bouy you... stretch your concept of you in relation to others....

First take inventory.... what hobbies have you ever had that others' seemed to appreciate? What free activities can you engage in where other people are present?

WHo do you know who might need help and encouragement? Remember though you are not in a position to offer financial help, anyone can encourage someone else.... anyone can offer a kind word and a listening ear... etc etc

Who are you? Self-definition amid turbulent circumstance

How we define our selves to our selves - this question and this question alone lies at the heart of surviving changes brought on by job loss, foreclosure and turbulent circumstance.

Up to this point you have made meaning in your life with a certain set of thoughts, with a certain focus. But when you lose your job and your home - in a chaotic economy - that focus has to change.

When you lose your job, your home, you also lose contact with colleagues and associates that were bound up in those locations. Your respected place in the scheme of things, in your career, and as a bread-winner and homeowner disappear all in one shot. If these past things are gone - and if they never return - "who am I now?"

To survive, long-answered questions need to be revisited; long-held assumptions need to be re-examined.

Are you really only worth the support your provided to family, the income you generated for your company? Are you more than external titles and an inventory of purchased goods? Are you worth something, as a simple unemployed, foreclosed upon individual? Do you have value as one unique human character in a world cast of billions?

In other words do human beings have any intrinsic worth? If they do, then you do. Can a human being (you) have worth based on what is inside them rather than on what external titles and goods they posses? Certainly we do...

Simple math -> NO JOB = NO NEW CAR

What drug is clouding the alleged vision of Washington and the Big Three car makers?

Throwing money at the carmakers will not work. PERIOD. Do the math - it's simple math:

NO JOB = NO NEW CAR 

Americans have stopped buying new cars not because of a lack of credit - but because of actual or impending unemployment.....

Thanksgiving feast at Elmer's Diner - AAA+

I started this post but it was really hard to write considering a friend had died on Monday afternoon. So finally a week later I am posting it on its original date.....

My family on my mom's side always had a big gathering on Thanksgiving. For me, thanksgiving used to mean driving a half hour or more to a crowded busy place full of a dozen warm gabby relatives. Aunt Pearl always cooked a giant bird, the kitchen would humm with activity, the table was stocked with tons of food, 8 different impossible-to-resist desserts, a long day of eating and talking and family opinions. Often rapid fire conversation, feeling too full, and being sickishly on the verge of a headache.

Over the years most have moved far away or died. Mom says she doesn't want to travel on a holiday weekend, nor does she want to be invited to well-meaning friends family dinners. She doesn't want to cook nor eat MY cooking.. (No one could blame her for that...)

SO - Last year we went to a new diner in town - Elmer's. (There is a long post on this blog about it...) This year, despite invites from relatives in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, we went to Elmer's again. Except we decided we would have what we wanted instead of the requisite Turkey Dinner that we were supposed to eat. So mom had salmon and I had a chicken & mushroom dish made with my favorite wine Merlot. The food was great and we didn't have to do the dishes!

The staff is very friendly at Elmer's and we were very well attended. Our waitress even ran outside after the meal because mom had left her hat in the booth.

So then, after, we went to the brand new dollar store open for the first time that day. A mom bought a few bargains, then set her money down on the moving belt in this brand new store and the bill slipped between the belt and the counter and disapeared leaving everyone gasping and full of consternation. They were very nice and polite and sent mom off with her change. After I got her situated in the car, I went back and they were taking the panel to the counter off and a man reached his hand up and over something there and retrieved the bill. WHEW!

Too much excitement!

A poet lost... Terence Stewart McLain (Terry)

The late Terence Steward McLain: 5/24/51 to 11/24/08  was a poet and a host of the Wednesday Night Poetry Series (which at that time met at Molten Java in Bethel, CT), and a fan of poetry readings around the area.

 Terry joined the series around 2003 or 2004, proved himself to be a a caring individual and a man who thought deeply about both life and poetry. He often read not only his own surreal poetry, but poems by vetted “great” poets of many schools and would offer biographical sketches of the poets along with their poems.

 He was a former exec at a relocation company, then at an online electronics re-seller for a time before experiencing the leading edge of the great economic downturn beginning in 2008.  He was divorced, and had two sons he spoke of with great love.

During his time at Wedpoetry  he lived in what he called, “the stony ex-urbs of CT” in the “penthouse of a stable” where two goats, five horses, and six cats also lived. He occassionally putup out-of-state poets like Jack McCarthy at his diggs there. Terry was a member of the Marathon Critique and attended the Housatonic Friends Society. His death at 57 years of age, in Nov. of 2008 left us all scratching our heads, blowing our noses and wondering why. 

His obituary reads: Terence Stewart McLain passed away unexpectedly, November 24 at the age of 57. Terry was born in Duluth, Minnesota on May 24, 1951 and then moved to Des Moines Iowa where he attended school.  After high school, Terry attended Coe College and received a history degree. Terry worked for many years in the relocation industry and later at Cyberian Outpost as a product manager. Throughout his life, Terry enjoyed playing and coaching basketball, as well as coaching soccer for his sons’ teams. In addition to sports, Terry developed a deep love for poetry and enjoyed writing and sharing his poetry with others. He was also an active member of the Toastmaster’s Club for many years. Terry was a loving and devoted father to his sons Kevin and Gregory of New Fairfield. He is survived by, his mother, Ailie McLain, of Minneapolis MN, his sister Judy (Bob) Dannenberg, of Burlington, Wisconsin, and Sarah McLain, the mother of his boys. Terry will be missed by his nieces and nephews in WI, VT and CT. He will also be missed by his close friends at the Molten Java Poetry Group and members of the Quaker Meeting Community.  Terry was predeceased by his father, Fred McLain.

Click here for the post with extensive comment on the Wedpoetry blog which contains a photo of  a comfort quilt maybe a few of the wed poets for Terry's girlfriend Pamela Yager.

A private funeral for family was held the week that Terry died at the St. Stephen's Episcopal Church in Ridgefield, CT. Click here to visit the Cornell Memorial Website where you can read the obituary and light a virtual candle. A large memorial meeting held for Terry several months later at the New Milford Society of Friends Meeting house. It was attended by many area poets and by his friends at the meeting society.

The Window Accepts Its Brick

a poem by Terry McLain

Kiss me with all your approaching difference,

as you yourself keep arriving to me,

potent like the stone you’re not,

approximately edged like my rectangle

but with a roughed-up surface and

some necessity I have never met before.

.

Can you see me? A subtler presence, maybe,

in this fluid familiar world, clear

but with reflections of sunlit leaves, lawns, and hedges,

street traffic and birds above.

You come closer, as certain as my stance,

with no reason for doubt.

But I think I still do.

===================================================

Apologies Not Accepted

a poem by Terry McLain

Never apologize

never say “sorry--this is a little poem”

when you mean this poem—“my poem

that I will now read”--something made

somewhere else, when it (the poem) is unaware

you would be reading it here, tonight. as if it

merely survives on paper

by the grace of me,

godlike, its deity and creator

judging it’s worthiness.

“sorry” implicates the audience

in this heresy, reveals

your willingness to ignore

the significance of your words

plucked by you from the universe of words—

you encourage us to ignore the hundred errands

you neglected to make this poem,

and that here, tonight, some word or words

you are about to read could change

someone who listens, who

will go home tonight with a new purpose,

living two generations away

from the inventor of healthy ice cream

or the orgasm bomb that will make armies

quaint and unnecessary.

when, later, historians consider how

this miracle happened, do you want

to be remembered as the one who

didn't understand the latencies in your poem?

to be forever derided for falling into that old trap

of saying sorry there will be no "peace in our time",

the "mission remains unaccomplished".

the germ might be hidden in a complaint about a boyfriend,

or the last time you kissed your mother,

or how teenage acne could be suffered easily

by retirees in group homes;

it might be an ode to a basketball, when

some words are united for the first time

and then get added to other lines of sublime words

until ignition so the genetic code of someone in this audience

moves north or west by a micron,

saying “yes” now to the future

saying “hold on for just a little longer”

and you want to apologize?

====================================================

My Easter poem…

Judas Tells All a poem by Terry McLain

Before there was blasphemy, there was only the narrative

without inspiration or instruction, without purpose

or a reason for understanding the final words

of this dying man cleaned of any honor he could still lose.

He remembers the final week of life with Jesus

and the palm-strewn Sunday they arrived, the hosannah cries.

He murmrus of a lifetime and how three years of miracles and ministry

disappeared when He walked through Jerusalem gates, remade

into a series of imperfect guesses no closer to who he was -

not the rebbe or the son of god, not the new king

feared by Roman and clergy, not the son of god asking

each disciple to see him as more than them

not the leader who needed Peter's awkward sword

or a man defined by his denials, not the man scourged and beaten,

mocked before Pilate and washing his hands

certainly not the criminal slowly dying, or the son and friend

too soon taken, or lover of mad wantons, strangely unable

suddenly to make a miracle that would save him.

He understood this somehow, he told me that he was prepared to die

to be everything and nothing for this imperfect world

terrified by the perfect god who judged them always.

His place on the edge, between all mistakes and the only place

where none might be, a soft cold light within each of us,

turned into each imperfect vision, named god's will

in all this. He told me to honor him by never denying who he was

no matter who asked me. And when I did, I called him master and

kissed his cheek in the garden because he had taught me to be true

to that and to be his servant in even this. I took the sack of coins defiantly

before grief tore into my resolve, too late to change what he insisted I do,

and when I threw it away, I felt no cleaner.

After he died, for two nights and one dark day I sat alone

hiding from those who would not understand what I had done,

hanging one of the corpses the Romans were so good at making,

so that I was made dead, already knowing that I had one more miracle

to witness. One more mystery to produce. Not knowing what or anything

but the loss of a friend already lost that last week.

Some might say the miracle was the strength to move that stone alone

or when he vanished forever, his body in a light bundle on my back

to be buried in a secret place in the desert.

I say the miracle was the damning one of personal sight that let me see--

that let me know my name was a new scourge used for any weak traitor

crucified by an imperfect world unable to see he was a vessel of light

no more than anyone else, no more than me.

Halloween 2008 at Wed Poetry

Shijin at ArtWell

Things change.  Especially performances.  ( I had started this post a week late and then was totally distracted by the death of a friend - see nearby posts in this blog)

I belong to a poetry performance troupe called Shijin. We have been having at poetry together for a number of years now.  We create a 30 minute seemless show of poems end to end, forming a sort of  storied arc.  The question most often ask following is "Did you write these poems together?"  And the answer is always no.  They are separate parts of ourselves,  individual as we ourselves. But our common human experience overlaps and our sets evolve in a sort of call and response hashout session which can last hours. 

 Our concept of how to structure the visual aspects of our performances has changed both with the particular set and with the space in which we perform it. Most often the staging (and we do not always stage), is done   by Alice-Anne Harwood, who has studied theatre and dramaturgy.

We hit our stride this year with a new set called Undone, which has been published by Hanover Press.  This works very well for us, as it gives us the set in hand, incase any members are absent. It also gives listeners the opportunity to take the poems home, arranged in the same way as the performance. We had already given one performance of Undone this past summer at the Wednesday Night Poetry Series. It was a tentative show, as we had just put the set together.

At Artwell Gallery on Water Street in Torrington, we gave another performance of Undone on Nov. 15,   and although one member was missing, the set works quite well.  Alice Anne had us behave as if we were getting together for coffee just a bunch of girls getting together telling stories in the form of poems. This really allowed everyone to react to the others poems very naturally. It worked very well. The audience really was attentive and apreciative

I should add that Artwell's open mic was a really good quality reading, and really enjoyed listening to their poets and and to one man who improvised a poem.  The art on the wall is a plus too. It's a wonderful atmospheric venue for a poetry reading.....

Seasonal song for the disposed, persecuted or foreclosed

To me, The Coventry Carol is not a religious song, but a song about a momentous and tragic day when a government, a king turned on the poor and helpless, slaughtering an entire generation of children rather than let a future rival escape. It's sadness is that of families suffering loss, and becoming refugees, living in hiding. It's sadness lies also in the realization of the depth of savagery the powerful can visit on the helpless.

Though this is with guitar the singing is "legit" style rather than belt.

Dedicated to the refugee, the transient, the persecuted, the rejected, the foreclosed, and ALL PERSONS BORN OR LIVING UNDER: power mad bullies, kings, despots, ruling parties, war lords, rogue presidents, vice presidents and their minions, certain priests & clerics (of ANY & ALL faiths) who spread hatred and intolerance for those with different beliefs, or political Machiavellis who shepherd maliciousness and mistrust.

Confluencia! November's poets, with musical prelude

Confluencia 's November poets: Faith Vicinanza, Marianela Medrano-Marra, Sally Van Doren, then NVCC president Dr. De Filippis in the center,  Reggie Marra who read poetry by Doug Anderson, and Elizabeth Thomas.

Confluencia is a marvelous event created by Dr. Daisy Cocco De Filippis, and Marianela Medrano-Marra. It features poets from varying cultural heritages, in varying languages and styles. I missed the first reading in this series which was in October, but got to catch up this time... What a line up - with so many twists of language and performance. Some great lines from their poems:

Van Doren >  "I'll meet you by the dragon-fly keep."

 Thomas > "....Dangerous as a broken sea-shell...."

Medrano-Marra > "She made a pact with fire...."

Vicinanza > "He told me he was Satin. I should have believed...."

Anderson > "....the smell of Arizona in May...."

Another post on the musical prelude can be found at: http://mmw113.blogspot.com/2008/11/musical-prelude-at-confluence-1108.html

Musical Prelude at Confluence 11/08

Before Confluencia 's November reading, in the lobby of Naugatuck Community College's Playbox Theatre, the College's Opera and Jazz ensembles were performing selections from Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris. That show is set for Nov. 21, 8p.m.

Richard Gard was

on keys, and his wife Evelyn Gard was conducting.The singing and the acting were quite good!

-- mar walker photos

A Concert with two Vladimiroffs, three really

See also: Memorial for Sergei & 70 at 70 & Walden Premiere

Saturday, November, 8,  I went to a free concert at the Valley Presbyterian Church on Wisconier Road in Brookfield.  The concert was in celebration of the church's new grand piano and a grand piano it is indeed, especially in the capable hands that played this concert.....

The players were Maxim Vladimiroff, a Russian-born pianist and award-winning composer, his father, Sergei Vladimiroff,  a beaming and emotive concert pianist, as well as two highly credentialed Russian string players who have both appeared with the Hartford Symphony: violinist Natalya Shamis,  (a former concertmaster of the Moldavian Symphony Orchestra and later of the New American Chamber Orchestra),  and cellist Zakhary Paranyuk who is a member of the Ridgefield Symphony Orchestra, the Brooklyn Chamber Orchestra, etc.

.

The company was great too - I got to sit with an old friend, Leisa Vladimiroff, who is Max's wife, whom I haven't seen in quite a while - long enough to notice that their boys have grown quite a few inches, while I have been away!

.

Back to the music! The opening salvo was Sonata for violin and piano (KV 378(317d) with its Allegro sections, sandwiching an Andantino sostenuto e contabile. Ms. Shamis showed her beautiful, energetic and singing lines, and Mr. Vladimiroff the younger played this lighter Mozart score with precision, balance and sensitivity.

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Next was an immediate change of pace. From the tidy elegant structure of Mozart, the program moved to Tchaikovsky, and Vladimiroff the younger was tag-teamed by his father, who specialty is emotion, caprice and surprise.  Mr. Vladimiroff the senior played five sections (months) from The Seasons, which is "program music" composed to embody  some well known Russian poems.  It was all lovely - but I most loved the June and October selections because they were most meaningful to me.. In June one could feel the sea waves lapping at one's ankles, and the warm night sky arching above. In October it was impossible to not see leaves flitting slowly to the ground, and at the end even a single leaf, trembling and rocking in the breeze before it finally lets go and falls.

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For November and December, I  couldn't grasp the metaphor and I think this prevented me from immersing myself in the music itself. November involved "not trying to catch up with the troika" according to the program notes,  and I had no idea what the troika  was.... December 's metaphor was wonderful, but I was unsure of its context. The program notes mentioned maidens on Christmas eve, removing their slippers and throwing them outside the gates. How wonderfully poetic! I would love to  know more about that (someone comment and enlighten me....)

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From the Sesaons, the senior Vladimiroff moved to more Tchaikovsky - the Polonaise from Eugene Onegin (an opera based on a poem). This well-known and beloved composition almost makes one want to dance...  As always, Vladimiroff played it with strength and subtlety.

After all this work, the players got to rest during intermission, during which a silent auction took  place in the lobby.  There was a lot of friendly conversation, and a few libations as well. (I am a coffee addict and always love fresh brew...)

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And fresh from intermission - I heard my favorite piece of the night - Etude in G minor Op. 33 by Sergei Rachmaninoff.  Now, when listening to music, it's always best heard when one approaches it as a sunbather approaches the sun - peel off the protective artifice and allow the music to act directly on the most vulnerable areas of the self.  This etude took me away, filled me with melancholy, and exaltation in its exquisite beauty all fabulously brought out by this fine player.

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Next on the program was a psychological wonder -- the father interprets the son!!!   Sergei played Six Preludes, a modernist tone-row style composition by Maxim !  I loved the caprice, the smatterings of tones, contrasted with the heavier tread of discordant semi-chordal blocks of notes - yet this is not a completely atonal work. .

There was much context to center, and it was an interesting contrast to the surrounding works.

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Then, it was back to the intense emotional ride of Dmitri Shostakovich's Prelude and Fugue  NO 24 in D minor, Op 87! It was most interesting to read in the program that this was a part of the composer's 24 Preludes and Fugues written written in tribute to Bach's own preludes and fugues.  Listening with the form of  Bach's  works in mind - it was amazing what different effect emerged from  Shostakovich's simmering furtive intensity - an intensity amply encompassed by Sergei Vladimiroff. The man must have been exhausted when he was finished playing it, so much energy went into the furious build of the fugal elements.

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He got to rest though - the next item was played by Maxim instead.  The composition was another Mozart bookending the program: Trio, KV 502. And here is my second favorite work of the night.  To me there is nothing so beautiful as the sound of the cello, and Mr Paranyuk is a wonderful player with superb tone! Perhaps as a mezzo-soprano, I am systemically partial to this rich sonority. Then when the cello's sound is woven with the sound of  Ms. Shamis, singing  violin, and Vladimiroff's artful energy, well, it's like a death by chocolate desert, except more serious, more expediant!   It was so compelling my own head could not stop moving in some sort of sympathetic rhythmic echo.   Oh what a marvel - Mozart, form and controlled flash, so well inhabited.  This was truly a fine piece...

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There followed lots of applause and people rising from their seats. There was an encore, I am getting senile and cannot remember what it was.  Then followed by

FOOD, conversations, more libations.

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Valley Presbyterian - congratulations on very satisfying event.

Rutter Gloria with Lots of Brass!!!

The occasion was the Eighth Annual Fall Festival of Music at the First Congregational Church in Ridgefield, directed by Edwin Taylor, which occurred on Sunday, November 2.. (It’s that church by the stone fountain, the one in the middle of the road that gets hits by cars so very often.) In fact the concert is part of the church’s Fountain Music Series.

The primary work was the Rutter Gloria with organ and brass. The singers included Edwin’s choir, singers from Jessie Lee United Methodist, and choir members who sang under the late Robert Ayotte of St Mary’s including a few of his paid soloists singing in the chorus(me for instance, and that is how I came to be involved) and a few from out of town. The 11-member brass and percussion ensemble was all imported and very expansive! The organist who played instead of Rob was Daniel M. Beckwith from Princeton. And no one ever forgets the fabulous Celebration Ringers – Edwin’s marvelous and discplined handbell choir.

We had dress rehearsal the afternoon of the concert. It was rigorous but very well organized so there was a minimum of hassle involved. Because most of us missed lunch, and would be concertizing well into the dinner hour, a meal was served at 3p.m. And there was coffee (I am always in need of caffeine), and I was grateful for the sustenance.
The brass ensemble opened in the side isles with a Gabrieli hymn arranged by Mr. Taylor. The brass and handbells were smashing! The handbells did Fantasy No 4 a new composition by Michael Helman and on Elgar’s Nimrod from his Enigma Variations. Later the brass and Organ together had a Taylor arrangement of Pacibell’s Deus in Adjutorium.

There were also a lot of congregational hymns. All in all, the concert went of without a hitch, Although it is hard to tell when you are singing – I think the choral works went very well too. I have to report that I actually did NOT GET LOST in the 5/8 sections of the Gloria. The Counting went very well.
There was a marvelous metaphoric talk Living in Harmony with the Universe, given by the Rev. Dr. Brenda Steirs about finding the tune and the key of life…..
For me the only difficulty was, that during a lush and beautiful duet The Lord’s Prayer, written by Mallotte and arranged by Mr. Taylor and sung by Amy Montanari and Faith Ferry – my eyes teared up, my sinuses clogged. It was so so very beautiful. I suppressed a cough until after this beautiful duet was done, then lost track a bit blowing my nose. We did the benediction ( The Lord Bless You and Keep You by Lutkin), from memory. And low and behold I remembered it. YEAH.

The concert ended with Moussorgsky’s Great Gate of Kiev in Mr. Taylor’s own arrangement for brass, organ, percussion, handbells and choir. And a good time was had by all….

Dia: Beacon - thought-provoking exhibit...

Last Thursday, fellow Shijin Robin Sampson, White Plains Slammer Ann Marie Marra and I visted the DIA museum in Beacon New York (a snapshot of its website is to the left), which opened in 2003 in a 300,000 square foot printing factory.  We got separated in this large maze-like building and I didn't see them for two hours.

I was constantly surprised - each time I thought I had reached the end of the exhibits, there was a still a large part of the building I had not visited!   Better, each time I thought I had drawn a bead on the meaning of what was exhibited, another twist was revealed.

The first room featured an exhibit of  minimalist work "24 Colors for Blinky" by Imi Koebel - large odd shapes each painted in a single bright color.  They were not at all like the monochrome canvases of Modrian  which contain subtle, though barely discernible, complexities. Koebel's colors are utterly flat and uniform.  Just shapes varied wildly. Imi may well have been trying to "shape-up" Blinky Palermo whose small and uniformly square works were on display in another room.  Another room had works by Agnes Martin whose canvases were more in the actual lineage of Modrian, but with a much more personal touched-surface  feeling....

Then there was an entire warehouse-sized room of light work by Dan Flavin. I mean, a kind of minimalist work created entirely as arrangements or "monuments" of florescent light fixtures. I didn't really get off on these, though they were interesting.  On the lower floor were a several works that were a kind of minimalist drawing  and the medium was vivid  blinking neon lights .

And then there was a room entirely containing abstract expressionist sculptures by John Chamberlain that looked as if, and I think were actually made from junk cars and scrap metal. I liked several that were imposing crumpled metal cairns each cloistering a small brightly color nucleus.  But My favorite work of the day was The Privet - one of his metal  sculptures. (The photo simply does not do it justice...)  It is a bit of an abstract expressionist hedge - of metal strips painted capreciously with high gloss enamel. It's metal fronds twisted organically, and each with a unique color scheme. The form was so familiar, the material and colors, arresting. I was inspired to write a poem, though it has a miserable slant rhyme.

The privet's metal stalks aspire
To rustle 'neath the critc's pire
In colors crisp with high gloss shallac
The metal hedge row with varied palette 

Louise Bourgeois' mythic Spiders inspire primal fear, I think and awe.... One can walk right up to the monster which is sci-fi man-eating sized!

Another area I adore, was a set of architectural scale works by Michael Heizer - that involved enormous holes in the floor, I liked the effects, and as a bonus the polished concrete floors in that area were so beautifully and intricately marked, each of the huge sections could have been hung on the wall as art....

Another area I enjoyed very very much contained huge iron spirals "Torqued Elipses" by Richard Serra like the hulls of mysterious ships or giant vats in a factory, that were 15 feet tall with walls several inches. You could walk inside the huge spirals and sometimes, there were hidden inner chambers.  Their juxtaposition also made a very pleasing view of differing angles. There was an erie sonority to the pieces as well. I tried singing inside of one and the echos were amazing.

Interpretive verses generative art

One of the most fascinating aspects of the artists on display were the many who had not constructed the piece on view, but who had left a set of instructions as an architect leaves blueprints, or actually the very same way a composer writes a a score and then leaves it to the future - for others to bring to life!

There was one Lawrence Weiner who had left large sized instructions for the construction of arrangements of monolithic stones. One huge obelisk-like monolith was recessed into the wall. There was an exhibit of drawings by Sol LeWitt (who had recently died). The work required  a team of 20 artists to draw patterns of six different basic squares.  Each looked like a geeks creation on graph paper. The squares were drawn in combination, juxtaposition and super-imposition  in pencil right on the four walls of a museum room. It sounds so prosaic but the effect was sort of  contrary to that. Inside four twenty-foot walls all covered with this work, well the effect was strangely imposing and the repetition made it comforting and  tranquil. It had a great quiet dignity.

The presence of a whole room of Andy Warhol canvases gives real weight to the idea of art by collaboration rather than by one hand.  So much of the art in this exhibit was  what I would call Art Divisi - that is art divided into inceptor or "Idea-ator" and executor. Or more completely - as in music - the generative artist and the interpretive artist. As in theater or in the performance arts, this allows subsequent generations to add cultural nuance...

Could an artist devise a handmade drawing or painting of so many layers that generations of interpretors would be required to fulfill the design? One thinks of the great cathedrsls ( one was still unfinished when I was in college. Not sure now)

And on the topic of great catherdrals - the Photographs of Bernd and Hilla Becher were of wonders of another sort - the great detailed twisting industrial cathedrals of European industry of an era past.

It's a great exhibit. They also have a fine coffee shop for lunch and a fabulous book store. Check the museum's website at http://www.diabeacon.org/exhibs/bindex.html

While we were in Beacon, we also visited the Muddy Cup for Lavendar Tea....

-- Mar Walker

Alternate Parking

It was hard to find parking at the polls. We voted at 6:15 a.m. this morning. Before coffee before breakfast. I personally voted straight Democratic - Duane Perkins, Chris Murphy, Joe Taborsak and most important of all BARACK OBAMA.

( I am an independent who went over to a party to vote in the primaries when John Kerry was running...)
-------
I think the odd angle and out-of-sight bike in this pale pic, contribute to the idea of hidden alternatives, escape routes, and alternate ways of looking at the familiar.... This is a photo I took in New Milford CT, standing by town hall looking towards the green, (you can see the intersection with Bank Street in the distance.) I fiddled with the photo in both iphoto and Adobe Photoshop Elements.



UPDATE; It's 11PM and ABC news has just projected BARACK OBAMA will be the next president..... HURRAY!

My Halloween costume this year....

This is how I answered the door this year. The thing on my head is black furry ear muffs that hold the dime store wig in place. In the front window we had a big "BOO" with orange lights!.  I had the door cracked open with Oggi dog on guard. Erie Thermin music was playing with its weird moans and slides.  It's eight thirty and we've had over thirty kids and attendent moms and dads. I love Halloween!

It's nine pm and we have had 38 tricker-treaters. We are out of treats and the lights are out.

 It's good to take off this wig...

My cat and dog are settling down now that the  weird music is finally off....

Priests screw up the mass - no ligntening, just screaming kids

There must be something in the air - at work (I am a mezzo soloist at an RC church, a mercenary arrangement not a religious one) the father forgot to follow the cross during the processional and got left behind. He also forgot to end the mass!!! A lay minister reminded him, and he shouted WAIT. What a riot. These guys need cue cards I guess. And the flock gets really peeaved. Deviation from the norm is not appreciated! Also, today, babies and toddlers were present in larger numbers than usual and they were so LOUD, hollering and shrieking all though mass. At least they were in a happy mood. None of those grinding and angry screams. If there were a god, surely he or she must remain baffled by this crazy flock....

Another face in polymer

Fog like cold smoke hugs the landscape this morning. A blood sun begins to burn through it now - the light is changing, a reluctant warmth rises in the air.

Grief is a fog that lingers for years. Visited my father's grave and also the grave of Rob Ayotte this past weekend.  (They are in the same cemetery. ) You hardly ever  know what the weight of a person is for you until you try to make do without them...   Some people leave a rend in the fabric of things.

The face is polymer clay It's of no one in particular.

It's resting on a wrinkled pedestal made of cement color pinkish like the polymer.

I read an amazing fact last night: in a recent month there were 2700 people PER DAY  who were losing homes to bank foreclosure.

Don Giovanni, Ave Verum, Poetry & Friends

This weekend was packed to the gills with music and poetry.
First on Saturday morning, with Edwin Taylor and his singers, and with other singers from St Mary’s, I rehearsed f the Rutter Gloria or two and half hours. This is Edwin’s the First Congregational Church (Ridgefield) “Concert Choir.” It’s a tough but beautiful and engaging composition with lots of time changes and spates of 5/8 just to drive us crazy. The concert which includes a brass and percussion ensemble, is Nov. 2.

Later that day, I saw the Hillhouse Opera Company’s first production – Mozart’s Don Giovanni with baritone Michael Trinik in the lead. He is a long-time student of tenor Perry Price, and at 36 years old, – and after years and years of hard work and study – this singer is really coming into his own. On the stage his voice just rolls out of him in a big grand fashion. He seems really in his element, really at home on stage, 100% engaged with his character. Another singer, really blooming in this production is soprano Victoria Gardener who’s high notes were lush and lovely. Besides sounding elegant, Ms. Gardener, all in red, tall and stately, looks like some legendary diva in training. She is also the person who made this show happen along with her parish, clergy, donors, and friends, especially Nicole Rodriquez and Regina Wagner and many others The church, St Mary’s in New Haven, is big, with its own natural reverb. There was a small orchestra under the direction of Mercy OBourke, and it was a pleasant surprise, being not only in tune but quite skilled — not a small feat for a volunteer, startup company production… I wonder if they tapped the Yale School of Music.
The score was uncut and the production was three hours. I enjoyed it all and had the company of fellow Shijin poet Eli Cleary to make the evening companionable as well.

The next morning back in the loft at that other St. Mary’s choir Mass, we sang Ave Verum and a choral version of Eye Hath Not Seen. Both seemed to go particularly well, so the experience was a good one, but I still terribly miss Rob Ayotte, our former Music Director who died in June.
Later that day there was poetry in two languages at a house warming party for Reggie and Marionela Medrano-Marra. What a lovely home, and lovely lively set of folks there to celebrate the occasion: poets, professors, artists, a college president, a radical intellect or two, not to mention the resident poet-therapists of this lovely new space. The vibes were good, the conversation lively and the food fresh, the wine, subtle, the company warm. Great day!

Unbelievable!!!

Read this Reuter's Article!: I can't imagine what they do with it all.


Banks borrow record $437.5 billion per day from Fed

GET MAD! AIG's ENORMOUS insurance payouts on Lehman bonds will come dueTuesday!

OK Cramer is a wild sounding guy - but he is so often right.

OCT 21 - next Tuesday is the day "insurance" ie credit default swap payouts on defunct Lehman Brother's bonds are due, according to Mr. Cramerica (Mad Money on CNBC.)  He said AIG is most likely the major underwriter and will have to pony up such enormous amounts of money that it will take what little value is left in the stock.  Once that is gone, the government - ie taxpayers -  us, will be writing big fat checks for AIG to very same hedgefund fat cats that acted together to "short" Lehman into oblivion. 

(Shorting is a bet that a stock will go down - and apparently you don't even need to own or even borrow shares of it - to short them. This is called naked short-selling. Though illegal, this rule was almost never enforced under the corrupt Bush SEC  and its fellow travelers in both houses and both parties in congress...)

According to a piece broadcast on NPR a few weeks ago - the thing that makes no sense and is apparently a fact of business is that "insuring"  bonds with credit default swaps is like fire insurance on STEROIDS.   Say you own a barn. You are the one who can insure it. Not so with bonds.  If a barn were a bond you could "insure" it for its full value and so could an UNLIMITED NUMBER of your closest neighbors.  Naturally they have torches and your barn burns while they stand by fanning the flames. That's what happened to Lehman Brothers, according to Cramer. And he has the contacts to know....

What kind of idiot insurance company would insure the same thing for full value over and over?    An un-regulated one.   They didn't call it insurance, either because insurance IS regulated.   Oh AIG!!     WHY would they do it?   Simple -the cost of credit default swaps  for a bond in the billions,  is in the millions! And they could collect those millions over and over again. And there was no requirement for them to have billions in cash on hand to pay up later.  As long as the barn didn't burn - the ponzi scheme continued. Just Thank your congress. Thank Henry Paulson. And remember - thanks to Paulson's AIG bailout - WE get the bill.   Not only for the $150 billion in bonds, but that times however many times the insurance was sold to whoever bought it.  It's nuts. REGULATE THESE GUYS...   and It wasn't just AIG selling this crap or buying - almost every major financial firm had a credit default swap desk with a dozen or more personnel manning it.

Somebody needs to be indicted on this one. There should be a conspiracy investigation of the multple hedgefunds who drove Lehman down while buying "insurance" ie credit default swaps on the bonds that they didn't even own!     What a racket!  AL CAPONE MOVE OVER~

The trouble is, you can't even root for the hedge funds to fail. If they all fail at once the DOW will be at ZERO. There would be so much stock for sale nobody could by it all....

Phooey on politics!

There are some things in the world that require a direct address not a remote vote.  The polite request of  dog who wants something is one of them. Shown here is Oggi who's is now around 11 years old.  Her muzzle wasn't so white when I got her from Danbury Pound.

Below is her sort of friend, the cat Miet, also adopted from an unknown past......  When they want something they sit one on either side of me and stare at me intently.  Maybe we could go to Washington and stare at congress until they get the idea!!! haha! Oh well, we'd all be staring for different reasons....

At Sub-Q an emergency verse arrives!

At Sub-Q this morning, Alice-Anne Harwood gave us a writing prompt - a quote from Eli Cleary who was not there today.  Apparently, under circumstances too complex to explain here, Eli said the following words ---  "Can you hurry this up? I have to call 911."  Naturally Alice-Ann wrote it down. It's always a danger when your friend is a writer, that something you have said will appear in print at a later time..... Of course you can always quote them right back....   Eli is a writer too.

     Based on that line-prompt, I wrote following. It's not what I consider a poem but it's really a verse....

I hear the doorbell,

see the truck.

(Don't driveway pavement

sellers suck?)

Yet over there

my neighboor's door,

- a hole that wasn't

there before!

And smoke 'n flame

in minor form

now billow from

his upstairs dorm!

Can we speed this up?

No sale! We're done!

I need to go

call 911!

Birthday Baritone, the lead in Don Giovanni 10/17 & 18

After a depressing afternoon watching the DOW sink like stone once again – I went out on a birthday celebration. I had a fine time tonight at TK’s in Danbury celebrating the 36th Birthday of baritone Michael Trinik, a fellow musical employee of St Mary Parish, and a long-time student of tenor Perry Price.

I first met Michael quite a number of years ago, (when he was still a student at WestConn) during a summer production of the Mikado in New Milford CT. Michael was the Grand PooBah, I was the oldest, fattest little maid in the chorus, and also understudy to Katasha. (If I recall more names from that production I will add them later. I am in my late 50s and cannot be relied on to recall everything.) Dramatic tenor John Shackelford was the music director and Arlene Begelman directed the theatrical aspects of the production.

In any event, a few folks came down to TK’s tonight to help Michael celebrate including his friend and fellow WestConn Alumni Keith who was also having a birthday, and a very pleasant couple whose names have escaped my aging brain. Coloratura soprano Cheryl Hill, (whose lovely high notes are a delight to the ear) her father Braxton (a bass) and her very sweet mom were also there. (I had a great time taking with the Hills.) Everyone had a few of TK’s special wings because Michael said that was his tradition. We sang happy birthday to Mike and Keith in four-part harmony…. And the bar actually paused and clapped.
Later in the evening David Baranowski, who accompanied him at his most recent recital at the Danbury Music Center, and another fine singer – who so beautifully sang O Mio Babbiono Caro from Puccini’s Gianni Schicci at that recital, (might be David’s wife? Not sure.) were also in attendance.
Anyway, after all that long-winded business – I am finally getting to the reason I am making this post. Mike will be singing the lead in Don Giovanni later this month with the fledgling Hillhouse Opera Company in New Haven, started by Victoria Gardener and a few other folks. Performances will be October 17 & 18, 7:30 pm at (yet another) St Mary’s Church, 5 Hillhouse Ave. New Haven. See the Don Giovanni link website for ticket info and directions. Note: It’s fee….

Another black day for the DOW

While Fed Chair Ben Bernanke spoke this afternoon (I watched on CNBC) the DOW, steamed and churned down 300 points - then they broadcast George speaking. Tut Tut. The day ended down 508 points. We are all holding our breath, waiting for the shoes that will surely drop.

    This hat-clad person, is a drawing from my little leather book that I write and doodle in during meetings and events. It's really a method of translating experience directly to a page...  or a way to shut out experience - that depends on the day. Sometimes these sketches are persons in the audience. Sometimes they are images evoked by what is going on.

Northbeast '08 - some wild performances

This weekend was the NorthBeast - the Northeastern regional team slam in Cambridge.  I went to this at the last minute last year at the request of White Plains  slam boss Zork.

At his request, I made the trek again this year -Zork at the wheel and L.V. riding shot gun, and some computerized gizmo shouting out driving directions.  We were down a body as Zork's friend "the NUN"  broke her ankle at the last minute and could not come. Simone kindly assigned us a ringer poet - Steve who was absolutely hysterical and an excellent slammer. He out-scored all of us - even with his help it wasn't enough and  at first, according to the scores read that night, we were the bottom team in our four team bout with Hampshire College, New Jersey and  Worcester. This was the first bout of the evening at the Cantab Lounge Underground.

UPDATE  10/9 - however, LV wrote to say she checked the website NorthBeastRegional on myspace and  we actually came in third over Portland Maine.  (shown below!)

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 3

TEAM COMPETITION

8pm @ the Cantab Lounge

Worcester, Mass 116.8

 

Lincroft, NJ 115.7

White Plains, NY 108.5

Portland, Maine 107.0

 It was fun - lots of wild angst, indignation, hysteria and hysterically funny, clever poems well-performed. People had a lot to say - and there were several time penalties given - and our brave judges did a wonderful job - and they were fast too!

All in all, though I am not much of a partier, am older than most of these folks (yes I am) and utterly out of my element, I had fine time none-the-less. I howled till I was out of wind for the fine performances.  D.J. Muse added musical backup to the evening, and spun out some tunes afterwards as well.

Because of some babysitting snafu's for L.V. we left about 12:30pm  instead of staying the entire weekend as we had planned.  That meant we had to miss some workshops which I bet were great, and  the Individual Slam Saturday night at the Y where the top poets from Friday's round would compete.  On the plus side, this early departure  got me home in time to attend the dedication of the Peter Vicinanza Memorial Garden.     Things work out well sometimes.

iReports at CNN -- be skeptical!

This morning I wondered over to iReport CNN's so called citizen reporting webpage. I might as well have been in an old time AOL forum gone multi-media. Mostly - the posts seemed, well, like early Doctor Who special effects. That would be mostly tin-foil and very little else.....

Though there are some real reports - many are Op-Ed  bits of widely varying quality rather than actual articles. This might reflect our sound bite culture or perhaps the general lack of skill at writing coherent and logical prose. It also might reflect a general misunderstanding of the real difference between "op-ed" and "news." In my years writing for newspapers, this point came up repeatedly. Folks would often ask me  if I'd read Mr. Jones' "article" when what Mr. Jones had actually written was an letter to the editor expressing his opinion on the upcoming election.  They rarely  drew any kind of distinction between an article by staffers which more or less simply gave the facts - and a letter to the editor expressing a totally one-sided, partisan  view.

On iReports it's VERY apparent that one must weigh and evaluate the point of view and skill of the writer - and make a pointed decision whether or not to bother reading the rest of the piece....

POST SCRIPT:  - today 10/7) I visited this site and it has been completely revamped. Not sure but I think it's finally being moderated. (last week fake reports of the death of a tech stock founder caused a huge decline in the stock...)

Memorial Garden: For Peter Vicinanza

Peter Vicinanza, a wonderful wry wit, a character in the very best sense of the word, also a writer and a supportive, intelligent and articulate reader of writing and poetry, and died a year ago, on Oct. 4, 2007.

He was remembered by many on Saturday evening at the one year anniversary of his death - at what I have to call the Magic Garden House. Now the backyard of this home already had many stately and venerable vines - plants that have a real presence and entangle arbors, archways and decks in a beautiful way, that were tended and preserved by the home's previous owner. But now --the font yard also holds amazement.

Peter's widow Faith, (poet Faith Vicinanza, of Mother Tongue, Shijin and Hanover Press) in her grief, threw herself into gardening and building garden paths. In the modest sized front yard of this suburban house- there are organically twisting walkways that double back on themselves creating intricate shapes in the process.

These paths enclose planting beds now filled with an amazing array of foliage, figures, garden decorations, oddly shaped rocks and paving stones. The yard is a living work of art, born from a wife's grief, expanded by contributions of plants and ornaments by friends.

.

On Saturday sixty or seventy people arrived, admired, talked, ate, remembered. Some of these performed a little ceremony of remembrance, not as a group but one by one. Faith had asked us each to write something to or for Peter, then to burn it in a metal container in the garden. "It's a very pagan ritual" she said and Peter who was an atheist would likely have appreciated it.

.

When everyone had left, Angel, Faith's grandson brought out his note for Grandpa. And the flames flickered and danced on Angel's note sending little shivers of sparks rising up into the night.

.

Peter we miss you.  Peter's Host entry on the WNPS Wedpoetry website:

The late Peter Vicinanza, who died Oct. 4, 2007, was a major sardonic wit who didn't believe in soft-pedaling reality. Peter often worked as a consultant, was an entrepreneur, a Vice-President of Information Technology at various corporations and a victim of multiple buyouts and take-overs with subsequent down-sizings. Around 1996 he took over hosting duties for a year to give his wife (WNPS founder Faith Vicinanza) a rest for a while when the series was still at Doctor Java's Caffeine Emporium in Bethel and she was its only host. Later, he was a willing participant in a 2,000 mile bicycling trek, an UtterFolly blogger, a poet & prose writer of memoir - particularly his days growing up in old New York. Peter's work has been in The Connecticut Review and in Bent Pin Quarterly. He was an honorary member of the Shijin-SubQ and we miss him still.

Read "The Fisherman," by Peter Vicinanza as it appeared in Bent Pin Quarterly

Bailout-rescue-big-tickect toxic paper plan passes on second try...

Ah well.  CONGRESS LET US DOWN. The depression will come anyway except to those rich folks the government expects us to save. Even if this bailout works somewhat - today I feel like the ultimate decline of the United States of America has begun. It wil fall apart under the weight of its own debt just the way the Soviet Union did.  Selah.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=95395712

Had a 2nd place slam win - my songs as slam poems - weirdly it worked

At the Oct. 1 slam at the White Plains Library - which I had been promising to attend all summer - I tried a new slant to slamming. At least for me. 

When I slammed in 1996-97 I had a few signature pieces  that I used - Blood Brothers, and the Uses of Nature. I also slammed on occasion with Inverse Origami the title poem to my chapbook.

This year I thought I would try slamming with some of my song lyrics - which are more slam-like than most of my recent poetry. 

On Oct. 1, there were two rounds and I used "She Wouldn't Take Me Home" and  "Without You" which are songs of mine that I wrote long before I ever heard of slam...   It worked I guess, as I came in second in that evening's slam. Go figure.

NO BAILOUT!!!! CONGRESS VOTES NO!!!!

Note: of course looking back at this from June of 2009 - have we got a bailout....

Wow and the Dow tanks at one point down 700 points - that's more than Black Monday... The world is changing. Here it goes.... The Dow is now up and down one minute you look and its down 500 then down 659 then at 443 Yikes going up and down by a hundred points in seconds...... It's a wild roller coaster..... Ah well - let the card house tumble - here it goes -- hold on!

ADENDUM 5:46pm -- The Day ended down 777 points - I think that's a historical record for a single day. Mr. Cramerica says it could go down another 2500 points before it's done.... The holdouts were 70 Republicans and 90 some Dems. According to news reports, some were fielding constituent mail 100 to 1 against the plan.

Sick of Politics for now - how about a brief cat lullaby?

]This is Miet kitty, filmed with a macbook. I sang a little tune and another then dragged them together and applied the delay effect.

Rainy Night Reverie - a poem from Inverse Origami

I am stained with streetlights
and rain-glazed mcadam

a damp changling in this vibrant night
As I wade, greyed grayed grasses give way tickling

Katydids converse, the pale arms of sycamore
scumble shadows around me

A culvert gurgles couplets, Hiaku
in the soft patter of droplets as wind stirs in wet leaves

Overhead the clouds burn by moon sparks
in the sultry mysterious dark.

 

---

 

from Inverse Origami - the art of unfolding
--- Mar (Mistryel) Walker, © 1998
Puzzled Dragon Press

/

How many credit swaps can dance on the head of a bailout?

They keep blaming this on John Q public's bad mortgages rather than banks' questionable decisions in granting those mortgages to insolvent people followed by the bundling of those junk mortgages, sold and resold again and again, and the insuring instruments for those bundles the magic, indecipherable derivatives. 

I did a little calculation and if I have it right (and i might not) then 800 billion would be enough for 2o billion $400,000 houses at full price.... So we must have more than 20 billion people losing their homes since the gov will only pay some change on the dollar for this paper. There just can't be that many...

And Where are the properties that go with this paper? Who is going to check the properties, go to the foreclosure proceedings... Pay heat on the empty houses..... 20 million of em all over map.... Maybe these will be the jobs of the "PAULSON NEW DEAL" hahaha. I can barely believe there could be so many displaced persons. I am betting there are multiple higher ticket items in there - like builders who went bankrupt holding paper on an entire development project or condo projects.
This just seems like such a bad idea and there must be more stuff than just residences........

my dash board calculator stopped at 800 million..... .

JP Morgan will buy WaMu? Bye Bye Washington Mutual

Another surprise deal announced on CNBC did I hear that right?. Wish I could hit instant replay and hear that again... Things are moving fast - if you don't count legislators. But I want them asking questions. 11th-hour must-do deals worth $700 billion are always suspect...... Just heard it again on Larry King - JP Morgen Chase "has acquired" the assets of Washington Mutual. so WAMU must have tanked or been seized.... Then Larry King moved on to Palin. Who cares.
========
ADENDUM
PS At this moment (Friday evening 9/26/08) ABC news reports that 17 billion in assest had been withdrawn from WaMu in the space of a few weeks putting it in an untenable position. ABC said it was the largest bank failure in American History. WaMu's assest were sold to JP Morgan Chase at the firesale price of $1.9 billion.

So long for now to Wed Poetry, returning the mezzo gig

Though I will still be doing the email update and maintaining the wedpoetry.net website, I will be missing my weekly Wed Night Poetry fix from now until summer. And I will be missing it very much.

Next Wed. I have committed to slamming in the first White Plains Public Library Slam of the season.  After that, I will be attending a choir rehearsal every Wed. starting Oct 8 until the end of June and I will so miss the marvelous community of folks I have met over the incredible 14 years of this poetry series.  This seasonal music gig as a paid mezzo/alto in a church is my only job right now and I cannot afford to not go back. I do enjoy the work, just wish rehearsal was some other night.   Rehearsal gets out at 9:30 p.m. or so. I will head right to Molten Java  from there and try to catch the very tail end of Q&A.

I plan to take up the slack by going to other poetry events around the area and to music open mic nights at several local venues. 

Consumer reaction to Wall Street woe is a no-brainer

President Bush has now gone to the American People and said we have an enormous financial crisis on the horizon. Of course  this is the same American public that has been losing its homes and jobs for a while now.   

    The treasury and the fed - in the form of Mr. Paulson and Mr. Bernekie - set that gigantic $700 billion figure to restore WALL STREET CONFIDENCE.    And now, suddenly the talking heads are worried that CONSUMER CONFIDENCE is low and people aren't buying.    DUH.     

    They have been using some stern-faced scare tactics to get this almost-a-trillion dollar financial stabilization package/BAILOUT passed - calling pension funds, 401ks into question and painting a picture where your credit card and ATM card stop working.  ERGO consumer sentiment is going to get even worse.  The general public (the bulk of folks who weren't losing a home or job), they are only now becoming aware of this crisis so we can expect spending AND saving will decline even further. Where will the money go? Check your local mattress.

    When the financial crisis of the century is on the horizon --  why on earth do we want to spend what little we have left?

Blood Brothers from Inverse Origami

The poem Blood Brothers was included in Inverse Origami (1998) and also in From We Shijin Book I" 2004, from Hanover Press
    

Hemoglobin shovels O2
into the furnace of this flesh,
Mt. St. Helena hot in the veins,
the blinding burn of this mortal mess:

Volcanic Serb and Croat erupting
Christian, Muslim, Jew, Tutsi
Hutu spew fire and ash, Skinhead
Treader of the Shinning Path, smoke
and vent like Irish Catholic and Protestant
pro-life bombers, policemen with plungers
unemployed militiamen with
fertilizer and fuel oil.

We all wear the white hat and
god is always on our side as
hungry and hissing we blister
to flame ---- and blood flows always
just as red as the time before.

Whatever cause we cite, there is another   
and we avert our eyes --- In each generation
the ancient animal wakes anew, the sleeping
mountain rumbles, metaphysicians mumble
incantations, the people bring their offerings to the craters rim:
.....learning and law
.....compassion and tolerance
.....forbearance and forgiveness.
These spread their opium salve and the   
Blood-beast dozes a while
under a gilding of grace.

Pick the scab of blessedness
and blood roils forth once more.
Some new Pompeii is burned or buried
smothered in sulfur, an ocean boils
but the mountain does not care

for blood has no age of consent
no theology nor dogma   
blood holds no point of view
no nationality, no vote
no academic certification
no credit rating, no latex condom.

And the blood dries to a crust,
of ugly smudges down the pages
of every sacred text.

Cain and Abel were brothers
blood-brothers.   
O blood without end --

Ah men.

---

from Inverse Origami - the art of unfolding
--- Mar (Mistryel) Walker, © 1998
Puzzled Dragon Press

/

Warren Buffett backs Paulson plan.... and Paulson

I heard Warren Buffett interviewed on CNBC this morning. Buffett is buying 5 billion dollars worth of Goldman Sachs, his first buy of an  investment house since 1978, according to CNBC.  (It's not the common stock...)

    "The Market could not have taken another week like the one developing last week," he said, adding that the Paulson plan is absolutely necessary to avoid "going over the precipice..." 

    "If they do it right,  I think they'll make a lot of money," he said. He insisted that they shouldn't be buying this paper at what the institution paid, nor at the carrying value  -- but at bargain basement prices.  He said nobody can "leverage up" right now. If they could and would, there's 15 to 20 % profit to be made.  "I like a market related price," he said. He suggested the government might want to sell off some of it into the market to see what the real price is before buying more....  He said they have the staying power to hold these things until things improve. Holding 700 billion is beyond private entities.

    "You couldn't have any better guy," doing this than Paulson, Warren Buffett said. 

     If you weren't watching the market last week, it went down 300 points one day 340 the next and 405, next  topped by the sequential collapse of  Lehman Brothers, AIG etc etc.  AIG was a crucial fall since it underwrites the debt of every major corporation around the world. 

    "AIG would be doing fine right now if they never heard of derivatives," Buffett said.