Poem of the Week

mt hiei

Kyoto, Mt Hiei – Dusted with Snow

Kyoto: March

by Gary Snyder
A few light flakes of snow
Fall in the feeble sun;
Birds sing in the cold,
A warbler by the wall. The plum
Buds tight and chill soon bloom.
The moon begins first
Fourth, a faint slice west
At nightfall. Jupiter half-way
High at the end of night-
Meditation. The dove cry
Twangs like a bow.
At dawn Mt. Hiei dusted white
On top; in the clear air
Folds of all the gullied green
Hills around the town are sharp,
Breath stings. Beneath the roofs
Of frosty houses
Lovers part, from tangle warm
Of gentle bodies under quilt
And crack the icy water to the face
And wake and feed the children
And grandchildren that they love.

Poem of the Week

Daily Trials by a Sensitive Man

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

Oh, there are times
When all this fret and tumult that we hear
Do seem more stale than to the sexton’s ear
His own dull chimes.

Ding dong! ding dong!
The world is in a simmer like a sea
Over a pent volcano,—woe is me
All the day long!

From crib to shroud!
Nurse o’er our cradles screameth lullaby,
And friends in boots tramp round us as we die,
Snuffling aloud.

At morning’s call
The small-voiced pug-dog welcomes in the sun,
And flea-bit mongrels, wakening one by one,
Give answer all.

When evening dim
Draws round us, then the lonely caterwaul,
Tart solo, sour duet, and general squall,—
These are our hymn.

Women, with tongues
Like polar needles, ever on the jar;
Men, plugless word-spouts, whose deep fountains are
Within their lungs.

Children, with drums
Strapped round them by the fond paternal ass;
Peripatetics with a blade of grass
Between their thumbs.

Vagrants, whose arts
Have caged some devil in their mad machine,
Which grinding, squeaks, with husky groans between,
Come out by starts.

Cockneys that kill
Thin horses of a Sunday,—men, with clams,
Hoarse as young bisons roaring for their dams
From hill to hill.

Soldiers, with guns,
Making a nuisance of the blessed air,
Child-crying bellman, children in despair,
Screeching for buns.

Storms, thunders, waves!
Howl, crash, and bellow till ye get your fill;
Ye sometimes rest; men never can be still
But in their graves.

Poem of the Week

Dear March – Come in –
How glad I am –
I hoped for you before –
Put down your Hat –
You must have walked –
How out of Breath you are –
Dear March, how are you, and the Rest –
Did you leave Nature well –
Oh March, Come right upstairs with me –
I have so much to tell –

I got your Letter, and the Birds –
The Maples never knew that you were coming –
I declare – how Red their Faces grew –
But March, forgive me –
And all those Hills you left for me to Hue –
There was no Purple suitable –
You took it all with you –

Who knocks? That April –
Lock the Door –
I will not be pursued –
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied –
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come

That blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame –

by Emily Dickinson

Moon for the Misbegotten

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Saturday friend and I went to the Writers’ Theater in Glencoe, Illinois, to see The Moon for the Misbegotten by Eugene O’Neil. It was my first visit to the Writers’ Theater. First I must say I was quite impressed with theater itself, which is a glorious building. I was further impressed by the live music they had in the anteroom. The theater has a large space where a duo was singing live music accompanied by guitar. What a great way to entertain the audience, who was able to sit on cushions on a large staircase, the sort that a lot of schools are adding and call “learning stairs.”

I hadn’t read the webpage carefully so until there was an announcement, I hadn’t realized that the play ran three hours. Like Ah, Wilderness, which I saw in the summer, Moon for the Misbegotten is a 3 hour play! Unlike the Goodman’s Ah, Wilderness, the Writers’ Theater did not cut anything from the show. They did have 2 intermissions, though.

The story’s set on  a poor farm in Connecticut. As in many of O’Neil’s plays, the father is a loud, angry alcoholic. In this case, Phil Hogan heads this family. His son Tom hightails it off the farm to escape Phil’s temper, but his sister Josie, outspoken an opinionated can hold her own with Pops, sticks around. The first scene dragged, which was odd since Tom is in such a hurry to get his bus to the city, but he keeps getting caught up with little problems and tasks.

Eventually Phil enters and we see him argue with Josie. There is a lot of arguing, which my friend found particularly annoying. I could stand it, but I can see how tiresome such characters are. This definitely was a play that could do with some trimming.

Eventually we get to the main issues of the play. The landlord’s son Jim, another big drinker, has the hots for Josie, but won’t admit it. He portrays himself as a ladies man who likes the girls on Broadway. Though she is attractive, Josie’s Achilles’ heel is her body image and status. She doesn’t think a rich boy like Jim could like a curvy, confident tenant farmer’s daughter. There’s quite a bit of flirtation, but both characters are too insecure to start a real relationship in the first two acts.

In act two, Phil gets betrayed by his pal, Jim. Jim’s agreed to sell the farm to a rich neighbor that Phil’s irritated by refusing to make sure his pigs don’t trespass on the man’s property. The neighbor makes Jim and enticing offer and Jim breaks his promise to always let Phil farm that land. Phil’s outraged and he and Josie plot to trick Jim and get even.

The actors in this production were pitch perfect and I’d love to see them again, especially A.C. Smith (Phil Hogan) and Bethany Thomas ( Josie Hogan). I’ve come to see Eugene O’Neil as long winded. He clearly wrote of what he knew, i.e. families full of alcoholics and that does get old. I think I’m off O’Neil for a while. Nonetheless the Writers Theater did a fine job with this play.

For Chicago Theater Week 2018 till February 18th, there’s a special on tickets. For $15 you get a lot of drama for the money. The promo code is CTW18.

Speed the Plow


Another David Mamet play seemed a fitting read as I’m currently taking his MasterClass online.

I’d seen the play at the Remains Theater in 1987.

The play is a satire of show business. Charlie Fox brings a movie deal consisting of a hot star and a blockbuster-type script to his long time buddy, Bobby Gould, who’s career is on fire since he’s gotten a promotion. He’s got till 10 am the next morning to get a producer to agree to make it. So he trusts his pal to make the deal, which will earn them boat-loads of money.

They talk about the business and their careers.  They dream of what they’ll do after this life-changing film is released. In the background a temp secretary bungles along with the phone system. Eventually, she comes into the office and winds up having to read a far-fetched novel as a “courtesy read” meaning she’s to write a summary of a book that’s not going to be adapted to film.

 
After she leaves the office, the men make a bet, a bet that Bobby Gould, whom Karen is working for, will succeed in seducing her. Karen’s not in on this but she agrees to go to Gould’s house to discuss the book she’s to summarize.

Karen finds the book about the end of the world life-changing. Like many 20-something’s She’s swept up by its message. What’s worse, when she goes to Gould’s house she convinces him to make the crazy book into a film and to leave his pal in the dust. The book and play are brisk and, as you’d expect, contain rapid-fire dialog. I enjoyed this book, but can see how some would find problems with Mamet’s portrayal of women. I think he portrays Hollywood quite realistically.

Sepia Saturday

Sepia Saturday 402 Header : 20 January 2018

This week’s prompt takes us to cemeteries or graveyards. I really don’t visit ancestors graves. I do visit graves in other countries, but never those of relatives as I don’t believe that’s where they are. I have no problem with others visiting them.

So this week I’ll find some photos I’ve found of noted writers’ tombstones.

Jane Austen

Jane Austen’s gravestone

Shakespeare grave

Shakespeare’s tombstone

 

poetscorner

Poets’ Corner

To see more interpretations of this week’s theme, click here.

William Butler Yeats’ epitaph is my favorite. Do you have a favorite epitaph?

My 2018 Reading Challenge

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I’ve made up a reading challenge for myself. I have done Goodreads.com‘s challenges where I read a certain number of books per month. This time I’m adding some themes and other specifics to spice things up.

Susan’s 2018 Reading Challenge

January – read a memoir and another book that’ll help me change my outlook (i.e. achieve a resolution)

February – read a 19th century novel and a religious book (for Lent)

March – read a book written by a Russian author

April – read a play by Shakespeare and commentary in a Norton Classic edition

May – read a detective story

June – read a book of historical fiction

July – read a travel book

August – read a humorous book

September – read a book by a Japanese author

October – read something scary

November – read a book a friend has recommended

December – read a children’s book and a story or book with a Christmas theme

 

No one has to join this, but you’re free to do so.

I am curious about what sort of challenge you’d set for yourself. Share in the comment section below.