{"id":12132,"date":"2012-11-23T10:33:21","date_gmt":"2012-11-23T15:33:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=12132"},"modified":"2012-11-23T10:33:21","modified_gmt":"2012-11-23T15:33:21","slug":"a-question-of-you","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2012\/11\/a-question-of-you\/","title":{"rendered":"A Question of &#8220;You&#8221;"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"http:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/I8x40g8bPyg?rel=0\" frameborder=\"0\" width=\"600\" height=\"450\"><\/iframe><\/p>\n<p class=\"smalltext\"><em>[Video: opening of <\/em>Qui \u00eates vous, Polly Maggoo?<em> (<\/em>Who Are You, Polly Magoo?<em>) &#8212; as <a title=\"Wikipedia, on 'Who Are You, Polly Magoo?'\" href=\"http:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Who_Are_You,_Polly_Maggoo%3F\" target=\"_blank\">Wikipedia<\/a> says, &#8220;a 1966 French film directed by William Klein&#8230; a satirical art house movie spoofing the fashion world and its excesses.&#8221; The fashion show in this scene reminded me of <a title=\"YouTube: True Stories' 'Dream Operator' (song) fashion show scene\" href=\"http:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=cAJ7kppuY7U\" target=\"_blank\">the one<\/a> in David Byrne&#8217;s<\/em>\u00a0True Stories.<em>]<\/em><\/p>\n<p>From <em>whiskey river<\/em>:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>A New Poet<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Finding a new poet<br \/>\nis like finding a new wildflower<br \/>\nout in the woods. You don&#8217;t see<\/p>\n<p>its name in the flower books, and<br \/>\nnobody you tell believes<br \/>\nin its odd color or the way<\/p>\n<p>its leaves grow in splayed rows<br \/>\ndown the whole length of the page. In fact<br \/>\nthe very page smells of spilled<\/p>\n<p>red wine and the mustiness of the sea<br \/>\non a foggy day &#8212; the odor of truth<br \/>\nand of lying.<\/p>\n<p>And the words are so familiar,<br \/>\nso strangely new, words<br \/>\nyou almost wrote yourself, if only<\/p>\n<p>in your dreams there had been a pencil<br \/>\nor a pen or even a paintbrush,<br \/>\nif only there had been a flower.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Linda Pastan [<a title=\"Amazon.com: 'Heroes in Disguise,' by Linda Pastan\" href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/Heroes-In-Disguise-Pastan-Linda\/dp\/0393309223\" target=\"_blank\"><em>source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;and:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>The Continuous Life<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>What of the neighborhood homes awash<br \/>\nIn a silver light, of children hunched in the bushes,<br \/>\nWatching the grown-ups for signs of surrender,<br \/>\nSigns that the irregular pleasures of moving<br \/>\nFrom day to day, of being adrift on the swell of duty,<br \/>\nHave run their course? O parents, confess<br \/>\nTo your little ones the night is a long way off<br \/>\nAnd your taste for the mundane grows; tell them<br \/>\nYour worship of household chores has barely begun;<br \/>\nDescribe the beauty of shovels and rakes, brooms and mops;<br \/>\nSay there will always be cooking and cleaning to do,<br \/>\nThat one thing leads to another, which leads to another;<br \/>\nExplain that you live between two great darks, the first<br \/>\nWith an ending, the second without one, that the luckiest<br \/>\nThing is having been born, that you live in a blur<br \/>\nOf hours and days, months and years, and believe<br \/>\nIt has meaning, despite the occasional fear<br \/>\nYou are slipping away with nothing completed, nothing<br \/>\nTo prove you existed. Tell the children to come inside,<br \/>\nThat your search goes on for something you lost &#8212; a name,<br \/>\nA family album that fell from its own small matter<br \/>\nInto another, a piece of the dark that might have been yours,<br \/>\nYou don&#8217;t really know. Say that each of you tries<br \/>\nTo keep busy, learning to lean down close and hear<br \/>\nThe careless breathing of earth and feel its available<br \/>\nLanguor come over you, wave after wave, sending<br \/>\nSmall tremors of love through your brief,<br \/>\nUndeniable selves, into your days, and beyond.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Mark Strand,\u00a0New &amp; Selected Poems)<\/p>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>Not from\u00a0<em>whiskey river<\/em>:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>Writing a Resume<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>What needs to be done?<br \/>\nFill out the application<br \/>\nand enclose the resume.<\/p>\n<p>Regardless of the length of life,<br \/>\na resume is best kept short.<\/p>\n<p>Concise, well-chosen facts are de rigueur.<br \/>\nLandscapes are replaced by addresses,<br \/>\nshaky memories give way to unshakable dates.<\/p>\n<p>Of all your loves, mention only the marriage;<br \/>\nof all your children, only those who were born.<\/p>\n<p>Who knows you matters more than whom you know.<br \/>\nTrips only if taken abroad.<br \/>\nMemberships in what but without why.<br \/>\nHonors, but not how they were earned.<\/p>\n<p>Write as if you&#8217;d never talked to yourself<br \/>\nand always kept yourself at arm&#8217;s length.<\/p>\n<p>Pass over in silence your dogs, cats, birds,<br \/>\ndusty keepsakes, friends, and dreams.<\/p>\n<p>Price, not worth,<br \/>\nand title, not what&#8217;s inside.<br \/>\nHis shoe size, not where he&#8217;s off too,<br \/>\nthat one you pass off as yourself.<br \/>\nIn addition, a photograph with one ear showing.<br \/>\nWhat matters is its shape, not what it hears.<br \/>\nWhat is there to hear, anyway?<br \/>\nThe clatter of paper shredders.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Wislawa Szymborska [<a title=\"Google Books: 'Poems, New and Collected, 1957-1997,' by Wislwa Szymborska (translated by Clare Cavanagh and Stanislaw Baranczak)\" href=\"http:\/\/books.google.com\/books?id=wt4sO8GUBX8C&amp;pg=PA205#v=onepage&amp;q&amp;f=false\" target=\"_blank\"><em>source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;and:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>&#8230;the American wishes to be liked <em>as a person<\/em>, an implied distinction which makes perfect sense to him, and none whatever to the European. What the American means is that he does not want to be confused with the Marshall Plan, Hollywood, the Yankee dollar, television, or Senator McCarthy. What the European, in a thoroughly expasperating innocence, assumes is that the American cannot, of course, be diversed from the so diverse phenomena which make up his country, and that he is willing, and able, to clarify the American conundrum. If the American cannot do this, his despairing aspect seems to say, who, under heaven, can? This moment, which instinctive ingenuity delays as long as possible, nevertheless arrives, and punctuates the Paris honeymoon&#8230; At this point, too, it may be suggested, the legend of Paris has done its deadly work, which is, perhaps, so to stun the traveler with freedom that he begins to long for the prison of home &#8212; home then becoming the place where questions are not asked.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(James Baldwin [<a title=\"Google Books: 'The Price of the Ticket: Collected Nonfiction, 1948-1985,' by James Baldwin\" href=\"http:\/\/books.google.com\/books?id=dsauteQRd7UC&amp;pg=PA94#v=onepage&amp;q&amp;f=false\" target=\"_blank\"><em>source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;and\u00a0(excerpt):<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>King John&#8217;s Christmas<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>King John was not a good man &#8212;<br \/>\nHe had his little ways.<br \/>\nAnd sometimes no one spoke to him<br \/>\nFor days and days and days.<br \/>\nAnd men who came across him,<br \/>\nWhen walking in the town,<br \/>\nGave him a supercilious stare,<br \/>\nOr passed with noses in the air &#8212;<br \/>\nAnd bad King John stood dumbly there,<br \/>\nBlushing beneath his crown.<\/p>\n<p>King John was not a good man,<br \/>\nAnd no good friends had he.<br \/>\nHe stayed in every afternoon&#8230;<br \/>\nBut no one came to tea.<br \/>\nAnd, round about December,<br \/>\nThe cards upon his shelf<br \/>\nWhich wished him lots of Christmas cheer,<br \/>\nAnd fortune for the coming year,<br \/>\nWere never from his near and dear,<br \/>\nBut only from himself.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(A.A. Milne)<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;\">The latest <em>RAMH<\/em>-neighborhood blogger to move along down the road is Jayne, of the\u00a0<\/span><em style=\"font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;\">Suburban Soliloquy<\/em><span style=\"font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;\">\u00a0blog. She&#8217;s not said flat-out good-bye to blogging, but she&#8217;s taking advantage &#8212; as who wouldn&#8217;t? &#8212; of a great creative opportunity at Bennington, which will consume her time and attention for a couple of years. In the meantime, in <\/span><a style=\"font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;\" title=\"Suburban Soliloquy: 'A Secret World - A Special Soliloquy'\" href=\"http:\/\/www.suburbansoliloquy.com\/2012\/11\/a-secret-world-special-soliloquy.html\" target=\"_blank\">her sign-off post<\/a><span style=\"font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;\"> the other day, she reminded me about the music of an Americana singing trio she&#8217;d previously featured, and recently saw in performance: <\/span><a style=\"font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;\" title=\"Red Molly: home page\" href=\"http:\/\/www.redmolly.com\/index.html\" target=\"_blank\">Red Molly<\/a><span style=\"font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;\">.*<\/span><\/p>\n<p>Here&#8217;s a number from their 2008 album,\u00a0<em>Love and Other Tragedies<\/em>. It&#8217;s an oldie &#8212; the folk\/spiritual, &#8220;<a title=\"Wikipedia, on 'The Wayfaring Stranger'\" href=\"http:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/The_Wayfaring_Stranger_(song)\" target=\"_blank\">Wayfaring Stranger<\/a>,&#8221; as they interpret it a gently swinging, slightly melancholic stroll down a dusty street &#8212; but it seems (both lyrically and, well, <em>sonically<\/em>) to fit my mood of this moment in 2012.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center; font-size: 90%; line-height: 1.25em;\"><em>[Below, click Play button to begin <\/em>Wayfaring Stranger<em>. While audio is playing, volume control appears at left &#8212; a row of little vertical bars. This clip is 5:41 long.<a class=\"hidden\" title=\"9.2MB - you sure about this?\" href=\"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/audio\/wayfaringstranger_redmolly.mp3\" target=\"_blank\">]<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n<div style=\"border: 1px solid silver; margin: 0.25em auto 0.5em auto; padding: 1em 0.5em 0pt; width: 400px; float: none; text-align: center;\" title=\"Click Play button to hear 'Wayfaring Stranger'\">[audio:wayfaringstranger_redmolly.mp3|titles=&#8217;Wayfaring Stranger&#8217;|artists=Red Molly]<\/div>\n<p>____________________<\/p>\n<p>* The group&#8217;s name comes from a character in a Richard Thompson story-song, &#8220;1952 <span class=\"explannote\" title=\"famous make\/model of racing motorcycle\">Vincent Black Lightning<\/span>.&#8221; Here&#8217;s the first verse:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>Said Red Molly to James that&#8217;s a fine motorbike<br \/>\nA girl could feel special on any such like<br \/>\nSaid James to Red Molly, well my hat&#8217;s off to you<br \/>\nIt&#8217;s a Vincent Black Lightning, 1952<br \/>\nAnd I&#8217;ve seen you at the corners and cafes it seems<br \/>\nRed hair and black leather, my favorite color scheme<br \/>\nAnd he pulled her on behind<br \/>\nAnd down to Box Hill they did ride<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(You can find the complete lyrics, and a video of Thompson performing it, at the <a title=\"American Songwriter: '1952 Vincent Black Lightning,' by Richard Thompson\" href=\"http:\/\/www.americansongwriter.com\/2012\/08\/1952-vincent-black-lightning-by-richard-thompson\/\" target=\"_blank\"><em>American Songwriter<\/em><\/a> site.)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>[Video: opening of Qui \u00eates vous, Polly Maggoo? (Who Are You, Polly Magoo?) &#8212; as Wikipedia says, &#8220;a 1966 French film directed by William Klein&#8230; a satirical art house movie spoofing the fashion world and its excesses.&#8221; The fashion show in this scene reminded me of the one in David Byrne&#8217;s\u00a0True Stories.] From whiskey river: [&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":[247,1393,53,74,37,5,251],"tags":[229,684,921,1812,3260,3261,3262,3263],"class_list":{"0":"post-12132","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-ruminations","7":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","8":"category-movies-media","9":"category-music","10":"category-onlineworld","11":"category-06_writing","12":"category-poetry-writing_cat","13":"tag-blogging","14":"tag-mark-strand","15":"tag-wislawa-szymborska","16":"tag-linda-pastan","17":"tag-red-molly","18":"tag-james-baldwin","19":"tag-a-a-milne","20":"tag-who-are-you-molly-magoo","21":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-39G","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12132","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=12132"}],"version-history":[{"count":20,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12132\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12152,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12132\/revisions\/12152"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12132"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12132"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12132"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}