{"id":10098,"date":"2012-03-09T13:21:51","date_gmt":"2012-03-09T18:21:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=10098"},"modified":"2012-03-09T13:21:51","modified_gmt":"2012-03-09T18:21:51","slug":"surprise-surprise","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2012\/03\/surprise-surprise\/","title":{"rendered":"Surprise, Surprise"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"http:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/37MNE8tOBG4?rel=0\" frameborder=\"0\" width=\"600\" height=\"305\"><\/iframe><\/p>\n<p class=\"smalltext\"><em>[Video: high-speed footage (1000fps) of an &#8220;<a title=\"Wikipedia, on horned (eagle) owls\" href=\"http:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Eagle_owl\" target=\"_blank\">eagle owl<\/a>&#8221; in flight. This film has apparently been around for a while, but I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;ve seen it before this week. Chief virtue, for me: shows me something I couldn&#8217;t have imagined on my own!]<\/em><\/p>\n<p>From <em><a title=\"whiskey river: Tom Robbins, on not-teaching\" href=\"http:\/\/whiskeyriver.blogspot.com\/2012\/03\/i-cannot-help-you-understand.html\" target=\"_blank\">whiskey river<\/a><\/em>:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>I cannot help you understand. In the realm of the ultimate, each person must figure out things for themselves. Remember that. Teachers who offer you the ultimate answers do not possess the ultimate answers, for if they did, they would know that the ultimate answers cannot be given, they can only be received.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Tom Robbins [<em><a title=\"Google Books: 'Jitterbug Perfume,' by Tom Robbins\" href=\"http:\/\/books.google.com\/books?id=9K6oJ3mezL4C&amp;pg=PA422&amp;lpg=PA422#v=onepage&amp;q&amp;f=false\" target=\"_blank\">source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;<a title=\"whiskey river: 'The Poems of Our Climate,' by Wallace Stevens\" href=\"http:\/\/whiskeyriver.blogspot.com\/2012\/03\/poems-of-our-climate-i-clear-water-in.html\" target=\"_blank\">and<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>The Poems of Our Climate<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I<br \/>\nClear water in a brilliant bowl,<br \/>\npink and white carnations. The light<br \/>\nin the room more like a snowy air,<br \/>\nreflecting snow. A newly-fallen snow<br \/>\nat the end of winter when afternoons return.<br \/>\nPink and white carnations &#8212; one desires<br \/>\nso much more than that. The day itself<br \/>\nis simplified: a bowl of white,<br \/>\ncold, a cold porcelain, low and round,<br \/>\nwith nothing more than the carnations there.<\/p>\n<p>II<br \/>\nSay even that this complete simplicity<br \/>\nstripped one of all one&#8217;s torments, concealed<br \/>\nthe evilly compounded, vital I<br \/>\nand made it fresh in a world of white,<br \/>\na world of clear water, brilliant-edged,<br \/>\nstill one would want more, one would need more,<br \/>\nmore than a world of white and snowy scents.<\/p>\n<p>III<br \/>\nThere would still remain the never-resting mind,<br \/>\nso that one would want to escape, come back<br \/>\nto what had been so long composed.<br \/>\nThe imperfect is our paradise.<br \/>\nNote that, in this bitterness, delight,<br \/>\nsince the imperfect is so hot in us,<br \/>\nlies in flawed words and stubborn sounds.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Wallace Stevens [<em><a title=\"Google Books: 'Modernism: An Anthology,' by Lawrence S. Rainey\" href=\"http:\/\/books.google.com\/books?id=p1qso99TB6IC&amp;pg=PA616&amp;lpg=PA616#v=onepage&amp;q&amp;f=false\" target=\"_blank\">source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>Not from <em>whiskey river:<\/em><\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>The Paradise Flick<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>How do we know Eve and Adam were happy,<br \/>\ndeprived, as they were, of a childhood?<\/p>\n<p>Eve never knew, unlike Adam, a world<br \/>\nthat was free of the chatter of others.<\/p>\n<p>How did she cope? And how could she choose,<br \/>\nif she\u2019d wanted, to live by herself?<\/p>\n<p>What did the man eat that made him hear voices,<br \/>\nwhile Eve was inventing frustration?<\/p>\n<p>Where could she go for a break from the sound<br \/>\nof Himself, in his skin suit, like Tarzan,<\/p>\n<p>assuring the bush that he\u2019d just given birth to a woman?<br \/>\nDid she smile at the fool, or remind him that he was<\/p>\n<p>asleep when she turned up and found him?<br \/>\nWhere could she go to be shot of his need for a mother?<\/p>\n<p>(A pity she woke him.)<br \/>\nLife for them both was a training film shown in real time,<\/p>\n<p>on the zen of zoo-keeping.<br \/>\nWhen the encyclopedia seller arrived, who could blame her for buying?<\/p>\n<p>No exit pollster asked how she felt<br \/>\nwhen she left at the end of the movie.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Michael Sharkey [<em><a title=\"Poetry Foundation: 'The Paradise Flick,' by Michael Sharkey\" href=\"http:\/\/www.poetryfoundation.org\/poem\/243000\" target=\"_blank\">source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;and:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>The Paris Mouse<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>hunched over the greasy<br \/>\nburner on the stove<br \/>\nwas <em>noir<\/em>, as in<\/p>\n<p><em>film noir<\/em>, as in<br \/>\n<span class=\"explannote\" title=\"nightmare or incubus\"><em>cauchemar<\/em><\/span>,<br \/>\nas in <em>le nuit<\/em><\/p>\n<p>not <em>blanche<\/em> but<br \/>\n<em>noir<\/em>, the dream you can\u2019t<br \/>\nwake up from, meaning she<\/p>\n<p>was a mouse <em>fatale<\/em>,<br \/>\nlicking the old oil<br \/>\nglued to the old<\/p>\n<p>cooktop, feasting<br \/>\nin her tiny hunched-up<br \/>\nsewer life<\/p>\n<p>on fats &amp; proteins for her<br \/>\n<em>b\u00e9b\u00e9s<\/em> all atremble in their<br \/>\nrotting <span class=\"explannote\" title=\"trash? not sure :)\"><em>poubel<\/em><\/span> nest,<\/p>\n<p>so when I screamed my piercing<br \/>\nAnglo-Imperial scream of<br \/>\nhorror &amp; betrayal&#8212;<\/p>\n<p>not <em>my<\/em> stove, not <em>my<\/em> traces of<br \/>\n<span class=\"explannote\" title=\"stew\"><em>pot au feu<\/em><\/span>&#8212;<br \/>\nshe leaped, balletic, over<\/p>\n<p>the sink, the fridge, the <span class=\"explannote\" title=\"dishwasher\"><em>lave-vaiselle<\/em><\/span>,<br \/>\n&amp; back to the <span class=\"explannote\" title=\"cellar\"><em>cave<\/em><\/span> &amp; the trash she<br \/>\nscuttled, grim as a witch<\/p>\n<p>in <a title=\"Wikipedia, on the fables of La Fontaine\" href=\"http:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Fables_(La_Fontaine)\" target=\"_blank\">La Fontaine<\/a><br \/>\nwho has to learn<br \/>\nthe lesson we<\/p>\n<p>all must learn:<br \/>\n<em>Reality is always sterner<br \/>\nthan pleasures of the nighttime burner<\/em>.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Sandra Gilbert [<em><a title=\"Poetry Foundation: 'Paris Mouse,' by Sandra Gilbert\" href=\"http:\/\/www.poetryfoundation.org\/poetrymagazine\/poem\/178429\" target=\"_blank\">source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;and:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>Some things will never change. Some things will always be the same. Lean down your ear upon the earth and listen.<\/p>\n<p>The voice of forest water in the night, a woman&#8217;s laughter in the dark, the clean, hard rattle of raked gravel, the cricketing stitch of midday in hot meadows, the delicate web of children&#8217;s voices in bright air &#8212; these things will never change.<\/p>\n<p>The glitter of sunlight on roughened water, the glory of the stars, the innocence of morning, the smell of the sea in harbors, the feathery blur and smoky buddings of young boughs, and something there that comes and goes and never can be captured, the thorn of spring, the sharp and tongueless cry &#8212; these things will always be the same.<\/p>\n<p>All things belonging to the earth will never change &#8212; the leaf, the blade, the flower, the wind that cries and sleeps and wakes again, the trees whose stiff arms clash and tremble in the dark, and the dust of lovers long since buried in the earth &#8212; all things proceeding from the earth to seasons, all things that lapse and change and come again upon the earth &#8212; these things will always be the same, for they come up from the earth that never changes, they go back into the earth that lasts forever. Only the earth endures, but it endures forever.<\/p>\n<p>The tarantula, the adder, and the asp will also never change. Pain and death will always be the same. But under the pavements trembling like a pulse, under the buildings trembling like a cry, under the waste of time, under the hoof of the beast above the broken bones of cities, there will be something growing like a flower, something bursting from the earth again, forever deathless, faithful, coming into life again like April.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Thomas Wolfe)<\/p>\n<p>Despite my apparent fondness for the musical genre known as Americana, I don&#8217;t feature much <span style=\"color: #888888;\"><em>(any? hmm&#8230;)<\/em><\/span> &#8220;pure country&#8221; here. But this duet by David Houston and Tammy Wynette seems to fit right in with today&#8217;s theme. One of this couple, we can imagine, is rather less surprised than the other that these dreams never materialize&#8230; while the other expresses surprise that they are, <em>still<\/em>, a couple.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center; font-size: 90%; line-height: 1.25em;\"><em>[Below, click Play button to begin <\/em>My Elusive Dreams<em>. While audio is playing, volume control appears at left &#8212; a row of little vertical bars. This clip is 2:53 long.<a class=\"hidden\" title=\"4.1MB - you sure about this?\" href=\"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/audio\/myelusivedreams_houstonwynette.mp3\" target=\"_blank\">]<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n<div style=\"border: 1px solid silver; margin: 0.25em 0.5em 0.5em; padding: 1em 0.5em 0pt; width: 400px; float: none; text-align: center;\" title=\"Click Play button to hear 'My Elusive Dreams'\">[audio:myelusivedreams_houstonwynette.mp3|titles=&#8217;My Elusive Dreams&#8217;|artists=David Houston + Tammy Wynette]<\/div>\n<p><em>[<a title=\"Lyrics: 'My Elusive Dreams'\" onclick=\"javascript:wopen('https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/lyrics\/myelusivedreams_houstonwynette.html', 'new', 425, 500); return false;\">Lyrics<\/a>]<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>[Video: high-speed footage (1000fps) of an &#8220;eagle owl&#8221; in flight. This film has apparently been around for a while, but I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;ve seen it before this week. Chief virtue, for me: shows me something I couldn&#8217;t have imagined on my own!] From whiskey river: I cannot help you understand. In the realm of [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","h5ap_radio_sources":[],"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[247,1393,405,74,5,251],"tags":[1299,1344,2700,2859,2860,2861,2862,2863,2864,2865],"class_list":{"0":"post-10098","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-ruminations","7":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","8":"category-nature","9":"category-music","10":"category-06_writing","11":"category-poetry-writing_cat","12":"tag-wallace-stevens","13":"tag-surprise","14":"tag-tom-robbins","15":"tag-eagle-owls","16":"tag-high-speed-photography","17":"tag-michael-sharkey","18":"tag-sandra-gilbert","19":"tag-thomas-wolfe","20":"tag-tammy-wynette","21":"tag-david-houston","22":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-2CS","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10098","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10098"}],"version-history":[{"count":21,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10098\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10119,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10098\/revisions\/10119"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10098"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=10098"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=10098"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}