Wednesday, May 24, 2006

I've created my own prison

It's been a while since we shared a poem. What's that? Too soon? Oh, relax. This one speaks to one of my recurrent themes. You know the one: trapped in a prison of my own design. Yeah, that one that I'm always yammering about. Part of my own private prison has a closet, but that's not the part this poem addresses. It's the part where we can be trapped by our comfort, both our possessions and also the familiarity and ease of just doing the same things we've always done. Anyway, it's by Theodore Roethke. Hope you likey.
The Reckoning

All profits disappear: the gain
Of ease, the hoarded, secret sum;
And now grim digits of old pain
Return to litter up our home.

We hunt the cause of ruin, add,
Subtract, and put ourselves in pawn;
For all our scratching on the pad,
We cannot trace the error down.

What we are seeking is a fare
One way, a chance to be secure:
The lack that keeps us what we are,
The penny that usurps the poor.
For those of you not down with the verse, I have something else. It feels kind of cruel to make a stand-alone post about it, so I'll append it here. Remember a few weeks back when my Andy was the MEAT? A few of us were discussing his mother, Gloria Vanderbilt, and her preternatural preservation, as depicted in a Details magazine photo. Well, yesterday A. Coop was on Oprah plugging his book (dirty?) and who should show up along with but Momma Gloria V. I'll just say it. Her face is WRECKED, yo. They can do tricks with photographs, but videotape don't lie. OK, videotape is harsh, but this woman's face looks like a leering skull, only with puckers. Seriously, her skin is stretched so tight that she has these pleats next to her nose. And her face does not move. Only her eyes. It's like she's one of those paintings in a haunted house. And don't get me started on her teeth. She seemed really sweet, if that counts for anything. Oh, and Xiaoxia, if you're around here, Anderson described one of his early floppy coiffures as "Flock of Seagulls hair." It's time to face the music, darlin'.


maddie said...

The poem speaks to me in a big way, in the same way that you mentioned - thanks for posting it! I'll just add it to the list of things to consider as I'm working out my decision to up and move cross-country. Loooong list, still no decision. I hate deciding.

Michael Guy said...

It was VANITY FAIR. The pictorial.

:: fact checker police ::

Michael said...

Oh yeah. Of course you're right. Like we'd read Details. So gay!

So anyone else catch her on Oprah? I happened to TiVo it.'s not like I watch it every day....

Michael said...

Oops, there you are, Maddie. I missed yours at first. I'm glad you like it. I don't know a lot about poetry, but some of it, like this one, speaks to me. Or it lets me let it speak to me if that makes any sense. No other road, no other way, no day but today, baby.

maddie said...

Poetry hardly makes any sense to me, ever. Very rarely does it speak to me in that way.

It's always toughest to do something unfamiliar - change, new people, etc...I just think I'm too comfortable here, like you were saying. My friends are here, I know how to do this job...somehow I know that a change would be the best thing in the long run, it's just scary to just put yourself out there. I wish I could be daring like some people I know and just make up my mind.

Michael Guy said...

MADDIE: Yes, exactly. But does this not place us at our death bed with regrets and remorse for the shoulda/coulda's left unfulfilled? I hear you. I loathe change and is critical to my nature, like the air that I breathe. What happens? Does it all just become too much bother to begin again?

MICHAEL: See? Yet another reason to dump me. I don't have TiVo.

:: tech challenged ::

maddie said...

MG: Despite my last post about being comfortable here, I actually love change, once I decide to go for it. I love discovering new places and shaking the dust off things every once in a while. It's just that first step that's a bitch.

Michael said...

MG, no darling, as the tech geek, I take care of all our electronics. You dress me. See?

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin

No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips

Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Some might call it pop platitudes. I wanna call it gospel. Oh, crap. Maudlin is so not my best side. No pictures! No pictures, please!

Michael Guy said...

What is this verse from, Michael? It's truly beautiful.

Curtis said...

Yeah. I likey the poem.

We should go out for drinks sometime.

(That was just rhetorical, not a hit up or anything.)

Bodhi said...

Speaking of closets, only yesterday I read something that had me laughing out loud. The Sydney Morning Herald newspaper has a weekly supplement called Radar, and a regular column is called "Crossed Lines" in which readers are invited to write in and share amusing overheard conversations. You get some classics at times, this was one of them this week:

"He's so far inside the closet, he's in Narnia."
Two men gossip on the 470 bus to the city.

Bodhi said...

... and speaking of gossip, have you heard the big news?

Oh .. my .. Brad [*Rolls eyes*]

Try to keep up to speed, m'kay people?

Anyhoo. Do any of you remember the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers? Wellllll, the hottie who played the Red Ranger, Austin St John, has got himself a new career. As a gay porn star! Yeah. Thats gay porn. Mighty Morphin Porno Rangers indeed.

[*Waiting for gasps of suprise and delight to die down*]

To read more about it, visit here:
Link & news thanks to every boys gay bible, DNA Magazine.