November thoughts, Novels old and new

There is a clear-sky anomaly lingering over Edinburgh today; draping itself about the trees with mischievous innocence and a grin, as if to say "what? I've been here all month, haven't you noticed?"
So I'm thinking of a particular poem which haunts my own work today-

"The Region November"

It is hard to hear the north wind again,
And to watch the treetops, as they sway.

They sway, deeply and loudly, in an effort,
So much less than feeling, so much less than speech,

Saying and saying, the way things say
On the level of that which is not yet knowledge:

A revelation not yet intended.
It is like a critic of God, the world

And human nature, pensively seated
On the waste throne of his own wilderness.

Deeplier, deeplier, loudlier, loudlier,
The trees are swaying, swaying, swaying.

--Wallace Stevens


Also, I just finished reading Speaker for the Dead (I read Ender's Game many many years ago) and am wondering why it took me so many years to pick it up! So today tastes of November trees and half-light.

Tam Lin, New Poetry

So I'm working on a new research paper centred around the Scots ballad "Tam Lin"; something which I've been interested in doing for quite a while now. Feminism in old ballads, light the way! I'm working through some articles by Martha Hixon and Charles Butler, but there doesn't seem to have been much work done in regards to the comparison of elements between the different actual versions of the ballad. I'm hoping that I can at least bring some small insights into the piece through looking at all eleven versions side by side.

Otherwise, here is a new poem.

The Texas Dreamer Blues

The harp notes coaxed from my
stringy heart,
my little ukulele heart

have tall tells they
long to tell
to tubas and horns and
great golden bells.

I woolgather all day long
with a spindle that drops
and swirls
glittering golden threads
from the straw-strings that my thoughts
have scratched and shed.

I rustle them up,
like grub, like cornbread,
cover them with honey and pour the wine,
and wait for my home-coming
honey and
listen down the tracks
for my home to come
to come home whistling
to this little tune of mine.

Two Goofy Poems for a Goofy Super-Friend

I told you I would do this, and now you are about to see the fantastically absurd results...

A Poem for Ever-Transcending Emily

Where
are you?
(I ask, from the other side
of the low wall of the kitchen)

I can hear you but
I can’t see you.
(I peer over the low wall,
but see no one standing on the other side,
then—)

comes, a reply—

I’ve transcended my body.

Actually, I left my body
in the bathtub

and am now omnipresent—

I mean, I’m sitting on the kitchen floor.



For all of Those With a Condition With a Strange Name Pertaining to the Inability to Smell

I know!
A flash of inspiration, clear
like the smell of coffee (inappropriate metaphor, sorry)

I will bring you flowers,
fennel and rue,
I will bring you things
that taste like they smell.

A look of confusion
I catch a whiff of the raincloud
that passes over your brow (what does taste like a raincloud?)

And then a grateful smile-
I see how you appreciate this
kind gesture, born of an inspired mind,
and you answer, sweetly—

“You really need to smell my pants-
here, have a bite of this bagel.”

Improvements, Changes, a Few Poems, the Mamas and the Papas

Well, I'm pulling this poor neglected journal out of the cupboard, dusting it off, and imbuing it with new soul and sense of purpose. It is now a creative space. Please, leave comments, share creativeness or quotes or stories in response to these posts (or just randomly). Here is some work that I haven't had much chance to share, because it came about in that weird interim between my portfolio and the work I've done while in this magical Scottish city. I'm leaving out some of my pieces from Japan, because they're too springy and will have to wait for a more appropriate season (such as spring).



Ca ra mel corn coffee

I unfold my legs,
                                                 out
and let the sun toast me,
honey in my coffee
liquid, golden, the sun so
warmly
               stops to say hello.

(Chicago, May '09)

And one for the season we are passing into...

The Shore of December Night

I might think of how barely
I know you-
word after word stumbles
forth from you
as if nothing could
stave off what is to come.

The bed creaks a little
as I shift my weight,
next to you, knees
propping up my chin,
I rock in the slight
swells of blankets and
building sobs, riding them out.

Your eyes never leave the floor-
you are transfixed,
pinned and struggling by the invisible,
helpless in its arms.
I can hear when you are near
the breaking-
the tightness of your voice
stretched almost to snapping,
I wait for the lurch of the mattress
and the cracking and the flash and
salt water torrents
to sweep us into unknown and
turbulent waters.

But when it crumbles
I am dragged down by the
pull and weight of the undertow—
I am afraid of you;
raw and cold
but I have no control,
I am touching your
face; hot, shaking,
jittering, explosive
I am looking for your tender places.

I see my own face,
wide and white and blank,
reflected against
the blackness in your eyes—
my eyes huge and drinking
up all the dark with the light.
I gather you,
piece by piece,
one coiling seizing
sinew after another,
I gather you,
rattling knees,
fevered skin,
I gather you;
ferocious,
but still I pull you in—
the marrow cage of
a thousand nightmares I
cannot cradle.

Breath in, out,
rasp of steady surf over the
sloped sand;
breathe in the sea,
out the sea.
I breathe while you weep,
a small boy in the
arms of a stranger.

There is so much violence
in you—
part of me recoils,
my stomach clenches and
wants to reject,
but my arms are steely and
will not uncurl and I
can feel your wild heart
and my steady throbbing one
warring with each other,
and I don’t want to let go—
so we ride it out,

and I wish I didn’t love
impossible things so,
and I wish you
weren’t afraid of me,
and eventually the tears
slow and the
seconds between the flash
and the rumbling groan
grow,

and the stillness settles upon us—
you take a deep, wet, swallowing breath
and get up to light
another cigarette,
while I lay
stranded on the shore,
emptied and gently
rocking myself.

(Tokyo, December '08)

Picture update to go with the last post!

Dangerous monkey!
Natasha gets followed by a monkey with a red butt (who are notoriously dangerous).

The unbelievably beautiful family who owned the place I stayed in Rishikesh.

The goat is having an afternoon snack.

One of the old temples at Mahabalipuram.

Me and Miyako at the beach in Pondi.

An old abandoned (I think) castle on the way to Tiruvannamalai.

Arunachula.

The forests around Arunachula. There were even blooming prickly pears, it looked so much like Texas!

Tiruvannamalai temple.

Traditional south Indian lunch!

A terrible photo of these violinists who played the most beautiful carnatic music, in Tiruvannamalai.

Journeys in the South (from Delhi to Tiruvannamalai, and a note to Nat and Andrew)

I will break this into two updates, because it would be rather unwieldy and probably pretty boring all as one. So to catch everyone up, I had an interesting journey south to Chennai after leaving Rishikesh and Delhi. I took AC sleeper class, which has coves off of the main walkway with three tier bunks on each side of the walls. Unfortunately, I had the bottom bunk, which also serves as a seat during the day, which means that when everyone else wants to wake up in the morning, I have to get up too so they can sit on it. Also, it is impossible to sit all the way up during the night, because the middle bunk is folded down and you will smack your head on it. So about 30 minutes into the train ride, I make friends with these navy guys on their way home from a break, and manage to get into a political argument with one of them. Fortunately, this didn't make the whole train ride miserable (although I thought it might for a while), and that same guy ended up being terrifically nice and waiting with me for my friend when I arrived in Chennai. After 36 hours on the train, I arrived at 7am in Chennai Central Station to discover that... Miyako wasn't there to meet me. The nice navy guy, Nitin, lent me his cell to call her- after calling her 80 times and not getting through, I called her dad. At this point he starts yelling for her and I realise that yes, she's actually still asleep. She lept out of bed and came to pick me up- all the time Nitin waited for me to make sure I'd be okay.

I spent about 4 days in Chennai, bumming around with Miyako- we went out to eat, went to beachside restaurants, went to a club at a nice hotel, went shopping for suits, rented movies, and took a day trip to Pondicherry and Auroville. One day I took a day trip by myself (which for some reason, I was totally terrified to do) to Mahabalipuram. The bus trip there was weird; it was two hours and my first time on a bus in India, and this jerk kept trying to put his hand on my leg and pass it off as just being because the seats were cramped. Mahabalipuram was beautiful- I drifted about and took some photos, did some hiking, had lunch, sat on the beach and wrote, and after I got my skirt covered in sand and seawater (I couldn't help playing in the ocean a bit) bought a cute pair of pants that I know mom will want to steal from me.

A note to Andrew: I started writing a letter to you here, because it was on one of your recommendations that I decided to go. I had been getting bored in Chennai and remembered you mentioning this place, so I decided to run off there for the day. I will probably never send you this letter, its a bit wrinkled from sea water and completely rambly. But I was thinking about you all day! And by the way, your assertion about Chennai being the armpit of India- I have a better idea of the meaning now.

And Nat- I ran into a CSer in Pondi who apparently had stayed with you in Belfast right before you came to see me in Tokyo! His name is Dima. Weird, no?! Small freaking world, I love CS!

From Chennai I decided to head off to Tiruvannamalai for a few days. Without any plan I took a bus there, for 5 hours, and then upon arrival realised I had no money. So after an hour of searching for an atm in the heat of the day, I got some money and then for lack of any better plan, asked an auto to take me to Ramana Maharshi's ashram, the only place I knew of in Tiruvannamalai. It was getting late on in the day, so when I got to the ashram I just started stopping people and asking them if they knew of any decent places to stay. Eventually a sweet woman pointed me to a local German bakery and a few guesthouses nearby. So I got a room for 3 dollars a night above a local shop, and went and had some dinner at the bakery. It was at this bakery that the next amazing thing happened- I met a girl from Tokyo named Aya, who lives quite close to me and actually knows where my house is. So I spent the next two days with her- going to puja and bhajans at Ramana's ashram, eating, talking, going to a performance of carnatic music by two incredible violinists, doing the 14 kilometre pilgrimage around Arunachula in the heat of the day, eating wonderful real south Indian food at a local restaurant with two tables and flies everywhere served by these lovely women who thought it was hysterical that foreign girls were eating there, and did a pilgrimage up to Ramana's cave barefoot. It was beautiful, it was the first real spiritual step of my journey in India. The walks around the mountain and up to the cave were powerful- it is a place that is supposed to elicit accountance for previously carried karma; many people have accidents or strong experiences in this area as the mountain removes the built up karma in all at once. This place is not entirely a restful one; every day it evokes new turmoil and uncertainty in you, and through a day of meditation and contemplation you begin to center yourself, only to find that it starts all over again the next morning. However, there are places of profound peace to be found here; places where contemplation can be done and there is a sort of temporary cessation from the weight of the world- the meditation hall in Ramana's ashram, the cave with its little garden where Ramana stayed in the mountain, random moments of music and puja and eating food from a banana leaf in the heat of the day. This place reminds me somehow of two wonderful teachers I used to have- one would always set my mind in turmoil, thinking and studying and struggling to understand, only to understand wholly the shallowness of my understanding. This teacher also brought my emotions to the surface just with their presence, and I always left feeling like my perception had been rocked but also stretched- I grew immensely from this interaction. Then there was my other mentor, who I would go to after periods of confusion and unrest, in whose presence I always became calm and clear-sighted, and who expanded my awareness and ability to grasp concepts but in a slow, level way. This is what Tiruvannamalai was to me; this is why I think I will need to find my way back there at some point or another, because this brief experience I feel is not yet complete.

Yes, I am alive-

and very hungry so this will be a short post. To catch you all up briefly, after the whole leaping off the train thing, I took a 36 hour train ride to get to Chennai, where Miyako forgot to wake up and get me so I had to call her dad, who then woke her up. I hung out in Chennai until today; went out with Miyako some, went to Mahabalipuram by myself (that's a story in itself), went briefly out to Pondicherry and Auroville (very very briefly, just for an afternoon), and explored generally. Today I took a 5 hour bus from Chennai to Tiruvannamalai, with no plans, but managed to find Ramana Maharshi's ashram and a random room not too far away (we'll see how that works out) and a bakery that I am getting ready to go visit because I'm super hungry. Look for a more thorough update with photos in the next day or two, when I am fed and not so exausted. Cheerios my friends!