J. Edgar

J. Edgar is perhaps the first movie I've ever seen about a gay bully (there's Roy Cohn of course).  Well, actually a repressed man who seeks power to fill the void. A strong overpowering mother, a 'secret' friend who's not so secret. Who knew that J. Edgar Hoover fulfilled so many stereotypes? The movie is compelling, well-acted, and insightful. But don't go expecting to see J. Edgar prancing around in women's clothing - the only time he puts on a dress is when he misses his Mother.

What's Your Noise

Everywhere you go,
From house to street to row,
From the ground to the water to the air
From fort to shack to lair,
Everything makes a sound:
Up, down and all around
That's sound.

A pip, a burp, a plop and a squeak
A tittle, a tattle, a drop and a leak.
A chewy, a spit, a kachunk and a squeal
A louie, a gasp, a perplunk, and a deal.
Everything makes a sound
Above and below ground.
Yes, that's sound.

What's your noise?
Do you huff when you're upset?
Are you gruff when all wet?
Do you smile when told a riddle?
Tap your feet at the stroke of a fiddle?
Is there a noise for you?
Does your noise rings true?

Your noise could be as low as a wisp
Or warm and soothing and brisk
It could be as loud as a rocket ship
Blasting off for yet another moon trip.

What's your noise?
Mine goes like this:

KA KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Sunday

The chilly weather is flooding me with memories of my first years here in SF.  I used to drive up from LA at Thanksgiving and Christmas to see my brother and sister in law – this was before I moved here, before the kids came along. I remember slipping off to have coffee at Tassahara in Cole Valley.  I remember that wonderful smell of wood burning fireplaces and watching people rush around getting last minute supplies for their holiday meals. I remember dinners full of friends and fun and too much wine.  I remember thinking that I would live here someday.

Intelligent Children

I've owned the book "Stories and Poems for Extremely Intelligent Children of All Ages" by Harold Bloom for at least two years.  I'd read maybe two or three poems in it. Last night, I picked it up and started reading the introduction. An hour later I was emotionally, physically, spiritually free! Instead of gushing, I'm simply going to share a quote from the introduction, one of many wonderful, hopeful, insightful snippets from Mr. Bloom:
"The romance of reading, like all experiential romance, depends upon enchantment, and enchantment relies upon the potential of power rather than upon complete knowledge. You are unlikely to fall in love with someone, however charming such a person may be, if you have known one another all your lives. What you can know fully will not induce you to fall in love, so that falling in love with a book is not wholly unlike falling in love with a person."

We Wonder

We wonder why we're here,
Why we're dying,
Why those we love
Smirk
At our long preparation.

We wonder why lemons go sour
In full spring yellow,
Why those we miss
Yawn
In their own Distance.

We wonder why kitties meow
A thousand ways,
Yet dogs bark the same
Bark
In distant backyards.

We wonder why we're here,
Why we're dying,
Why those we laugh with
Smile
At the shadow of our own best light.