sometimes i think all of my words belong to someone else... they're only mine to borrow for a second then they drift away, back to their rightful owner... like here are some sad words or happy ones... talk about a loss a sickness a deep disappointment... talk about a joy a perfect bright moment a life... but none of the words are mine... not the way real writers own theirs...

ok. that was just a warm up exercise... maybe a minor melancholy purge... i'm actually feeling pretty good.. how about you?

well, this is the week of street scenes. we moved everything on tuesday at the end of the day - without too much trauma or stress. i'd been mostly concerned about all the books, but on friday and monday evenings i carted them down here to a safe spot. on tuesday a crowd of seniors descended on 305 and carried off everything to 109. if you were to walk into my room right now, you would find a little black cave with a stage at one end.

last night i served my country by supervising the student show in the auditorium... that means i sat through three performances and pointed the crowd towards the exit at the end... there are tougher ways to spend an evening. the show was fine... product of many many hours of work... and play... oh to be in the kind of shape that would allow me to maintain that pace... lightning-swift transitions, constant multi-costume changes, no significant flubs, voices strong and hitting all the notes that counted (especially the voice of liz), graceful dancers never colliding on a very crowded stage (especially the dance of kathleen).... and smiling smiling smiling... so happy to be here.... even before the early audience of middle-schoolers who were much more interested in each other than in anything on stage... i suspect the last show for mostly juniors and seniors ran on adrenaline alone... it was the best.

i only learned at night's end that i'd missed alex's ska band... or the ska band in which alex plays the trombone... in one of the other rooms... i would have snuck out to see it... drat... out of the loop... again... still...

reading Beloved now... i'd forgotten the way it rips out yr heart... see? look at this gaping hole... i'd forgotten the way it scrambles yr brain making history be now... and now be way back... then... i warned the apes about it - told them to get an early start... but we'll see.

been thinking about free verse and wendell berry's poetry because a fellow on the list asked about it... been thinking about how poetry is (mis) handled in schools because a fellow on another list ranted about it... been seeking some resolution to attack this iraq of paper on my desk... need to employ some of my own WMD.

the cat sends out to all readers fuzzy little hairballs of love on this her 14th valentines day... i send you the following smartypants by mr. berry

The Mad Farmer's Love Song

O when the world's at peace
and every man is free
then will I go down unto my love.`

O and I may go down
several times before that.

Wendell Berry

 

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