2011 May | steadily skipping stones

May 30

10 Comments

Some Things Just Defy Logic

So this is what happened last night:

I went to a cookout at my sister and brother-in-law’s house. Happy Birthday, Steve!

I stopped by the grocery store on my way home.

I came home.

I brought myself, my purse and my work bag into the house.

I let Louis out.

I headed back out to get the groceries.

I then proceeded to mow the lawn as my frozen vegetables melted in the back seat.

I was wearing my one good pair of work shoes and the “fancy for me” new shirt I still haven’t paid for.

I mowed half the yard before I lost the light.

I accidentally left the car window down, which reminded me what I was supposed to be doing.

I got the groceries before they turned into mush and yet another example of money well wasted.

I went inside, dripping sweat and nearly dripping groceries.

I should have mowed the lawn two weeks ago, or on any of the subsequent 14 days.

I chose to mow the lawn while on my way out the to the car to get the groceries.

I don’t know why.

Some things just defy logic.

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What ground cover thwarts grass best? (ask.metafilter.com)

May 28

12 Comments

What is Art? Contradicting Tolstoy

In preparation for the next Query, I’ve been asking people this question about Art: “What do you think is more important, the perception of the audience, or the intent of the artist?” (Click here to see what people said.)

Yesterday, I posted a poem and asked readers to interpret its meaning. I know what the poet intended, but I can personally think of at least three different possible interpretations. In past discussions, some have said they don’t have a clue what it’s about, but they just don’t like it. Not because they can’t figure it out, but specifically because it makes them uncomfortable.

So let me rephrase the original question: is it enough to elicit any response, or does it have to be the right response? continue reading…

May 27

2 Comments

Interpret This Poem

The Still Steady Stream of Being

Then I finally decide to do it and
Oh, what secret harbored
addiction will unfold itself,
embrace my shaking limbs in
the final moments of tedious
aching countdown of seconds
churning by with the rhythm
of pounding blood and nausea,
Oh yes, my God – how sweet
the smell will be and
just a little repugnant,
that sticky liquid pouring
out and over,
thickening like paste, pouring
out and over the body
and these waiting hands that
held their patience so long
amid the brief encounters that
shocked their skin,
that reverberated against their
very bones, only so long before
an echo of the touch vibrated
through the whole of this being
and I finally decide to do it,
swiftly, with eager mouth devouring
every metallic moment, swiftly
I dive back through and break
the surface of this moment,
this torment of anticipation…

back into the peace of silent solitude…
back into the still steady stream of being…

until the rippling begins again and
I must finally decide to do it.

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What is this poem about?

What emotions does it evoke?

Does it even make any sense?

Do you like it or hate it or maybe you couldn’t care less?

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May 25

5 Comments

Where do Home Improvement Projects go to die?

I don’t want to say that my house is a burial ground for Home Improvement projects, because it’s not.

It’s more like a tomb.

Which is to say is that my house is chock full of DIY mummies, preserved just as they were when they gasped their last.

Why is that?