Homework: Desire and Regret

Wait, don't go.  It's good homework.  Trust me.  

Part I: Desire

One of my favorite poems is Robert Pinsky's "The Want Bone."  I was lucky enough to hear it read by Dr. Pinsky during a lecture when I was at NMSU.   Pinsky, the former poet laureate of the United States and the creator of the Favorite Poem Project, was an odd mix of arrogant and attractive.  I didn't exactly like him, but I was totally enraptured by his voice.  A low rumble, with just a hint of gravel, and crystal-clear enunciation of every syllable.  Imagining him saying the word 'stupidity' gives me a little shiver of delight.*  

Go read "The Want Bone."  (Skip down to read the poem and the paragraph before it, then come back.  I'll wait.  I'll whistle a little tune to keep me occupied.)  Go back and read it again. Read it a few times.  Read it once out loud if no one's looking.  Notice how sensual and sexy the poem becomes.  

A gaping, sun-bleached shark jaw on the beach.  That's the image at the heart of this poem, but there is so much desire--unfulfilled desire--in the poem.  So much longing.  Desire that is not only unfulfilled, but is unable to be fulfilled.  

The bone, the jaw, the structure of the mouth that consumes; the irony of the giant predator consumed by "infinitesimal mouths."  The shark is "uncrushed, unstrung" but not unhinged.  The jaw bone is transformed in a few lines into something more sensual, more physical, more vaginal: "...In groined spirals pleated like a summer dress. / But where was the limber grin, the gash of pleasure."  If we allow ourselves to be pulled down into the glitter (gutter), the bone and the O and the gash makes the words erotic, sex unsexed.  A monument to never-to-be-fulfilled longing on the paradise of the beach. 

Hang on while I take a cold shower. 

Part II: Regret (for the Pirates, argh)

In his now infamous book about the life of a kitchen pirate, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly, Anthony Bourdain colorfully exposes the gritty life of a cook/chef in New York City.  There are any number of things in that book that I love (like the sourdough sponge ['feed the bitch'], the pirates, or having sex with the bride in the alley), but one bit that has stuck with me is the Ice Cream Truck.  Bourdain imagines himself facing a careening Mister Softee Truck as a metaphor for facing his own mortality and cataloguing his regrets.  Extra credit if you go read the book, or at least skim the bits about the ice cream truck, in the 270-ish page range.  

Part III: My Point (hint, I don't have one)

Nope, no point.  Just some observations.  I could go all writery on you here and tell you that contemplating the interplay between desire and regret might help you build a story or understand the motivation of your characters.  Or I could  be your pop psychologist and say that the desire/regret dynamic might help you understand yourself better, or something.  But I'm not going to do that.  The rain is too pretty and cool, the grass is too soft and lush under my toes.  Today I'm just looking at the shape of the pomegranate tree and marveling at its balance.  

*Here's a link to Pinsky reciting his poem "Samurai Song" to give you a taste of his voice. 

Character Observations

I have never considered myself a journaler.  You could look at the pile of battered notebooks on the closet shelf and argue.  There is always a notebook open on the desk, ready to accept ideas.  I jot down inspirational bits that I hear from other people, or snatches of plot or beauty.  Sometimes I draft blog posts or notes to friends when I’m away from the computer.  Mostly I jot down observations of character.  People I see doing whatever they do.  If those people stick in my head as I move through my day or week, they might end up there on the page.

Some I describe in a few sentences or fragments.

Cashier/neighbor who always calls me Mrs. Smith.  He was a drum major in the marching band when we moved here.  The band theme one year had to do with the pyramids, and his eyes are stunning with a little kohl eyeliner.

The man who sat next to me at last week’s football game filled many pages.  He was lovely, and more complicated and interesting than initial appearances suggested.  Still others pop up in the pages over and over again.  They are characters or fragments of character that I can’t shake out of my brain.  One character appears very frequently in the notebook pages even though I have never met him.  The idea of him is boiled down into a two-word phrase that appears in the margins of the notebook in a variety of contexts.  Because this is a real person, tangentially connected to me, for the sake of idea- and identity-protection, let’s call my Frequent Flyer.

I have tried several times to build a story around the Frequent Flyer.  None of them have ever quite achieved the potential for beauty and irony that I see in the character.  So I tuck him away each time, believing that eventually I will find a worthy tale.

But now, the story has come to me.

My Frequent Flyer’s life goes on.  This time I may get to play a role in the story.  The best part of this opportunity is that even if I never write a satisfying story about the Frequent Flyer, I have a chance to be a part of his life in what I hope is a positive (though very small) way.  That is worth so much more to me than a good story idea.  The irony that this is the best idea (so far) does not escape me, and it’s a plot twist I never would have imagined.  

A pile of notebooks on the desk

Meme: 15 in 15, albums that stick with you

EDITED BY THE EDITOR TO INCLUDE THIS EDITORIAL NOTE: This is a VERY long and self-indulgent post.  Read it only if you are procrastinating. Thank you. -Ed.

Over on Facebook, Cab posted a meme recently.  Usually I resist the memes (and the games), but this one had impeccable timing and I couldn't pass it up.  This one was too much like my 10 Things Game.

15 in 15, Albums

"The rules: Don't take too long to think about it - choose fifteen albums you've heard that will always stick with you. List the first fifteen you can recall in no more than fifteen minutes. (These aren't favorite albums, necessarily, just the fifteen that will always stick with you.)"

Please play along.  Leave your own list or a link or observations in the comments down below.  

I couldn’t stop at fifteen, and it's my blog so you can’t make me.  Annotating the list turned into a lovely reflection on my 37th birthday.  I present the albums to you in the order they occurred to me.

 Jeff Buckley - Grace (Legacy Ed.)

A few years ago I saw a video of Buckley singing Leonard Cohen’s "Hallelujah," and it moved me.  I vaguely remembered Buckley, especially “So Real,” and went hunting for more songs by him.  This naturally led me to stories about his death.  I read the biography about Buckley and his dad, Dream Brother.  Inspired by the potential for myth surrounding his death, and by several of his songs, I wrote my first screenplay.  My story is not about Buckley, but questions about Buckley at the tenth anniversary of his death motivate the main character, and Buckley is present as a shadowy/imagined figure in several brief scenes.

Fastball - Painting the Corners

The year after I graduated from college I drifted a bit and spent several months working as a retail chick in a souvenir gift shop.  When I got myself together, I applied to graduate school and ended up in Pennsylvania.  That year in San Antonio, the first year Partner and I were married, I spent a lot of time in motivational limbo, wandering and wondering about different paths I might take.  Hearing “The Way,” the most popular song by Austin band Fastball, always makes me think of that year.  “You’re An Ocean” and “Fire Escape” are two of my favorite love songs.  “I believe I’d buy whatever you would sell to me” indeed.

Nine Inch Nails - The Downward Spiral

When Partner and I first started dating, we spent a fair amount of time drinking and dancing.  In Las Cruces at that time, our favorite local band was Ulcer, made up mainly of engineering geeks.  Their music started out on the computer, and live instruments came later.  NIN influences were heavy.  When we weren’t out with Ulcer, we sometimes went to a club in El Paso.  (NM Aggies, what was the name of that club? Had a number in it? 101?)  One rainy night, the club was fairly empty and the bartender took an interest in us.  He kept us drinking and moving on the dance floor, and I think he’d have taken us both home if we’d let him.  He had the DJ play “Closer” for us several times that night.

Erasure - The Innocents

A good friend in high school gave me this album on cassette.  I still have that cassette, and I think of him anytime I hear a song from the album.  I often listen to this one (on the computer now, not the cassette player) when I’m in an upbeat mood, or at least trying to get myself into an upbeat mood.

Hayes Carll - Trouble in Mind

This album is my Now album.  I’m finding the humor and honest emotion of several songs inspirational. “Drunken Poet’s Dream” and “It’s a Shame” are my absolute favorites here, though I would never pass up a chance to listen to “I Got a Gig.”

The Beatles - The White Album, CD2 and Queen’s Greatest Hits, CD1

One of our birthday rituals is to play “Birthday” (very loud) for the birthday person, but we always leave the album playing while we have cake.  Queen is in the big CD player right after The Beatles, so the two albums go hand-in-hand for family celebrations.

The Commitments Soundtrack

When you’ve spent fifteen years with a person, a lot of albums will be remind you of that person.  This one goes back to those pre-married, having-sex-all-the-time days, but this one isn’t about sex.  Partner and I often watched movies with friends from the lab.  The Commitments was a repeat favorite, and I used to know Jimmy’s “interview” speeches in the bathtub by heart.  Besides, it's a great collection of music.  Harvey Keitel theme-nights were also popular.  Imagine watching Taxi Driver, Bad Lieutenant and The Piano in the same night.

Golden Earring - The Continuing Story of Radar Love

Once upon a time, when this band came on the radio, there would be a quiz.  Partner would ask anyone in earshot to 1. name the band, 2. name their other hit, and 3. name the number of years between the hits (answers at the bottom of the post).  He did it so much, that several people we knew would automatically answer the questions without prompting when the songs came on the radio.

Cake - Fashion Nugget

I just love this album. Quick poll, are all Cake songs about sex?  Yay or nay?

No Doubt - Tragic Kingdom

I want to be Gwen Stefani when I grow up. Ok, no. This is another college album that I associate with empowerment and independence and a particular time of change in my life.

Deep Blue Something - Home

Deep Blue Something is a Denton, Texas college band and Home is a quintessential college album.  After about a year of dating and hedonism, Partner and I separated for several months.  No, separated makes it sound like we didn’t see each other.  Let’s just say we moved apart and spent a few dark months being stupid.  I saw Deep Blue Something at the NMSU Student Union by myself.  “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” made me cry.  I’m not sure what woke us up to (my) our stupidity, but a few months later we decided to move to San Antonio together.  On a whim, we got married first.

Prince - 1999

When I was about twelve or thirteen, my aunt gave me a bootleg cassette of Prince albums.  I was horrified and thrilled to find a track called “Irresistible Bitch” and thought my aunt was THE coolest person in the world.  She is still rad and I have loved Prince ever since.  1999 is my favorite Prince album.  Purple Rain is a close second, and in middle school I could frequently be found reciting the Dearly Beloved speech from the beginning of “Let’s Go Crazy” to my bathroom mirror.

The Best of ZZ Top, or perhaps Deguello

ZZ Top is all about Dr. Hoffman and his organic chemistry lab at the end of the hall at NMSU.  I worked in there with Caleb, another undergrad who was trouble then but a dentist now, and Naresh, a post-doc who thought we were crazy, lazy, spoiled American kids.  All true.  I had a pair of cheap sunglasses at the time.  But never a Pearl Necklace.

Paul Simon - Graceland

This album always makes me feel good.  “Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes” is one of my favorite songs.  I think it’s the resonant sound of the guitar on the whole album that gets me.

Barenaked Ladies - Rock Spectacle and Dave Matthews Band - Crash

 On Facebook I listed Under the Table and Dreaming, but I switched albums because the songs on Crash remind me of the great group of people I worked with at Blockbuster Video and WaldenSoftware. Together with the Rock Spectacle, these songs remind me of the best parts of those months of darkness and stupidity.  Brian, Erin, Tony, Hector, Cab, Steve, Jason, and several others I can picture but whose names are not coming to me.

Melissa Etheridge - Your Little Secret

This one reminds me all about Partner and the first apartment we lived in together.  And our roommate who had a nervous breakdown.

INXS - Kick

In middle school, my favorite media included this album and Top Gun (the movie and its soundtrack).  Michael Hutchence may or may not have been involved in my earliest sexual fantasies.  But I’ll never tell.

G Love and Special Sauce - Philadelphonic

I discovered G Love in graduate school in Pennsylvania.  I love the mellow, groovy, funk and the playful lyrics.  I used “Rodeo Clown” to demonstrate a rhetorical analysis activity with some college freshmen once.

Joe Ely - Letters to Laredo (or anything by the Flatlanders)

Ely grew up in the Texas panhandle, and much of his music and that of his other band The Flatlanders is evocative of the wide open spaces and the cultural flair of New Mexico.

Spin Doctors - Pocket Full of Kryptonite

“Jimmy Olsen Blues” is a sexy song.  "Two Princes" reminds me Dave.

New Order - Substance

This album is wrapped up in memories of two high school boyfriends.  More one than the other since he was The First and I still have the mix-tape he made me that finishes with “Blue Monday.”  Great tape.  The Beatles, Dead Kennedys, Modern English…. Very eighties.

Smash Mouth - Fush Yu Mang

During my third year at NMSU, within a year of graduating with a B.S. in Biochemistry so I could go go medical school, I changed my mind.  My grandfather died.  My estrangement from my father escalated.  I didn’t want to be a doctor anymore.  Blame grief.  Or blame my awesome Chaucer prof.  I finished the B.S., but took an extra year to finish the credits for a dual degree and earned a B.A. in English as well.  One of the best decisions I ever made, and I did it with “Walking on the Sun” playing on the radio over and over again.  Though the awesome prof once told me that Smash Mouth was too derivative for his taste.

Morrissey - Years of Refusal

This is another album about where I am Now, in this transition back into my own work, separate from my mothering identity.  I’ve written about this one before here.

They Might Be Giants - Flood

I will always think of my best friend in high school when I hear any song by They Might Be Giants.  These are the songs we shouted as we skipped arm-in-arm through high school.

Guns ‘n Roses - Appetite for Destruction

High school.  Driving too fast, being too loud.  The back of the band bus.  The drummers.  Yeah, the drummers.  And, grudgingly, the co-opting of “Welcome to the Jungle” for every major sporting event.

U2 - Joshua Tree

The summer when I was ten, I went to California with my sister and grandmother to visit my cousins, aunt and uncle.  My cousin, a few months older than me, was obsessed with this album and in the throes of his first major crush.  He played it non-stop the whole time we were there.  San Diego is “Where the Streets Have No Name.”

Everclear - Sparkle and Fade

If you’ve followed me on Twitter for any length of time, you might know that I’ll tell you that this one is about upbeat college nihilism, right?

Rick Springfield - Success Hasn’t Spoiled Me Yet

I had a hardcore preteen crush on Rick Springfield, circa “Jesse’s Girl,” and this album is the first one I ever bought with my own money.  I made my dad take me to the mall so I could get it.

Ronco’s Funnybone Favorites

I played Rick Springfield and this album endlessly on my little red and white portable record player.  “Get out of here with that dun dun duh, and don’t come back no more!”  It includes novelty hits from the seventies, all of which I can still sing for you if you want (you don’t).  “Alley Oop,” “Stranded in the Jungle,” “DISCO DUCK”!!!!  Good times.

Observations and reflections:

1. More albums in this list remind me of college than of any other time in my life. 

2. I didn’t include a single mention of my children, unless you count The White Album.  If I added albums associated with my kids, I’d throw in Skip Ewing’s BKB, especially the song “Indian Elephant Tea,” or either album by Gnarls Barkley.  

3. Unsurprisingly, Dan, my Partner of fifteen years and Spouse for a lot of those, features in many entries. 

4. Music and sex belong together. 

5. I'm having a good life.  

Answers to the quiz: 1. Golden Earring, 2. Radar Love or Twilight Zone (there were only two), and 3. ten years.  

When the kids go to school, a fantasy.

Next week, all of my kids will be in school for the first time.  Some parents might feel a bittersweet sense of melancholy and excitement over this milestone.  I’ll save you that cliche.  I’m excited for them, but mostly I’m totally thrilled to recapture some independence from my kids.  To reclaim an identity independent of being a mother.  People keep asking me what I’m going to do with my time when the kids are at school.  Generally I glare at them and say that I will do all the stuff I do now, just alone.  You know, the laundry and bread and groceries don’t leave when the kids do.  When I’m feeling friendly, I tell people that I’m going to write.  But there will be so much more than that. 

Here’s what I’m going to do.

I will eat whenever I want, or not at all.  I might drink beer with lunch.  I will write all day long.  I will listen to NPR and hear every story from beginning to end.  I will listen to loud music or no music at all.  I will spend all morning in the art museum in front of one painting, then write about it all afternoon.  I will sit on the beach in a sweater when it’s cold, writing and eating an apple.  I will run if I feel like it.  I will buy groceries at the speed I choose, with no arguments about cereal.  I will write about the produce manager singing in the deli.  I will read whole chapters and articles without interruption.  I will have tea with friends, uncensored.  Occasionally I will nap.  I will kidnap my spouse for lunch sometimes and make people gossip.  I will hang out at the library for hours, reading and writing.  I will plan and build and write and make.  I will figure out what I’m going to do when I grow up. 

Then I’ll be waiting with snacks when the kids rush through the door. 

Random Thursday Question

This is a placeholder. A diversion. So you won’t notice that I haven’t posted promised blog entries. Hey! Look over there!

How did you come up with the name of your first pet? 

Have you ever seen an Irish Setter? They’re really beautiful dogs. Their fur is long and silky, in tones that range from shiny copper penny to rich chestnut. 

Part of my family always had dogs, but my first dog was an Irish Setter named Rosie. We were puppies together. I was her person. As she grew into a large dog, she guarded the perimeter of my blanket and play space. She prevented my escape with gentle nudges. She growled-a deep, quiet rumble in her chest-at any approaches she did not approve. If the story is credible, she once faced down an uncle—hackles raised, fully snarly and scary. Rosie died when I was in high school. Partly crippled by arthritis, and mostly blinded by cataracts. She lived a good, long, happy life in a big yard with a warm bed. 

I don’t know who named her. I was barely more than a baby. Two years old. She was pedigreed, so Rosie was only her nickname. Her full name is lost to me. The nickname was surely chosen in part because she was a red dog. A beautiful, shiny, red dog. 

How about you? Any pets? Any good names? How did you choose the name?

Eglentyne and Rosie. She’d just had her first puppies. From the pants I’d guess around 1976 or 77. Why don’t I have pants like that now?!