The Word, the Line, the Way

Self Help

2013-06-19T21:33:00.000-04:00

Next time you're waiting in a long line, take a look around. If they're not with friends, there's a good chance nine out of ten of the people around you are doing something on a phone. But what's that tenth guy doing? He's just standing there. Oh and by the way, that tenth guy is me.

One of the many ways I amuse myself in lines, waiting rooms, or at large social gatherings is to imagine new names for things. I particularly enjoy thinking up titles. I've written in the neighborhood of thirty songs in my lifetime, and I've got another nine albums worth of song-less titles ready to go at all times.

So it's difficult for me to browse the self-help section in a bookstore or library without revising the titles in my head. In some cases I'll change just one or two words. Other times I'll add an entire phrase or subtitle. I do this with magazine articles in waiting rooms too. Here are a few examples:

Maybe You’re Fine Just the Way You Are… but Probably Not

The Procrastination Cure: 7 Simple Steps Toward Finally Getting Up Off Your Ass

Loving the Self-Absorbed: How to Create a More Lasting Relationship with a Narcissistic Prick

Self-Defeating Behaviors: Free Yourself from the Habits, Compulsions, Feelings and Attitudes that Make Everyone Instantly Despise You

Does anyone else engage in this sort of behavior? If so, please share your thoughts and/or title ideas.

Titleist

2013-06-18T19:16:00.000-04:00

Critical opinion varies on the work of writer Charles Bukowski. Depending on who you ask, he's either an overrated one-note misogynist or a genius chronicler of life on society's edge. I happen to think he was a little bit of both.

But there is one aspect of Bukowski's writing about which there can be no argument. The man could lay down a title.

Here are just a few of my favorite Bukowski book titles:

Confessions of a Man Insane Enough to Live with Beasts (1965)

All the Assholes in the World and Mine (1966)

The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses Over the Hills (1969)

South of No North (1973)

Shakespeare Never Did This (1978)

Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit (1979)

You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense (1986)

Sifting Through the Madness for the Word, the Line, the Way (2003) (The inspiration for my blog title.)

What do you think of Bukowski?

Here's a clip of the man reading one of his best:

http://youtu.be/gifEn61dZBc

Links to some of the poems:
http://bukowski.net/poems/
http://hellopoetry.com/-charles-bukowski/

Not the Perfect Book

2013-06-17T21:28:00.000-04:00

Another great Book Thing find. Princeton professor Harry G. Frankfurt theorizes that we lack a proper appreciation of the effects of "bullshit" on our culture.

Through about fifteen pages I had fun trying to guess if this was meant to be entirely satirical. Then he started quoting Wittgenstein and using phrases like "ascription of determinacy" and "resistance to skeptical dissolution," and I realized he was actually making an academic argument.

Here's the link to the book promotion page: http://press.princeton.edu/titles/7929.html

I enjoyed the greeting at the start of the first author interview clip: "Welcome Professor Frankfurt. Thanks for popping in today to tell us about bullshit."

My version of drunk dialing

2013-06-14T19:08:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I like to have a few drinks and then spend a couple of hours submitting my poems to literary magazines.

A poem

2013-06-13T15:49:00.002-04:00

"Book"

Today I saw a paperback

on the side of the highway,

its pages flapping wildly

and then suddenly still

between the bursts of breeze

from the passing machines,

and I thought about those birds

that leave too soon to test their wings;

falling from their treetop nests,

they find themselves flailing.

Perhaps the book was simply lost

or tossed without a thought

through the window of a passing car,

but I prefer to think it leapt

having gone too long unread.

Hobby Idea

2013-06-12T19:06:00.000-04:00

Next time life gets a little slow, and you need a little project to occupy your time, why not just casually raise some kids? I found this gem at The Book Thing of Baltimore.

Books are the Answer

2013-06-11T19:26:00.001-04:00

I once saw a television interview with the musician Prince in which he admitted to never wearing a watch or keeping clocks in his house. The interviewer asked, "How do you get by without keeping track of the time?" Prince's response: "I keep track by the truth."

Well, there's only one Prince, and that's probably for the best. Most of us don't have lives that allow us to ignore the time - at least not all of the time. Putting aside the fact that he comes from another planet, I suppose Prince was just making a statement about his values. We all "keep track" in different ways.

I keep track with words and the books that hold them. My default response to most of life's challenges has been to immediately seek the appropriate reading material. No matter the nature or scope of the problem, I somehow have the feeling that if I can just find the right book everything will be ok. Life isn't often so simple, but that subtracts nothing from the pleasure I take in looking.

I'm not a religious person. The closest I come to being in any way "spiritual" is in my reverence for words and their power to move people. As such, I'm a constant seeker of books, and maybe one day I'll find that perfect one. The one with: THE ANSWERS. Or should I say, the truth?

"Life in the City of Barrow, Alaska"

2010-11-16T23:06:00.006-05:00

I don’t think I would do very well

living in the city of Barrow, Alaska.

I don’t suspect I’d care much

for the sub-zero temperatures,

the year-round snowfall

or the tendency of blowing snow

to create weeks of white-out conditions,

especially in December and January

when the sun doesn’t cross the horizon.

Two months of constant darkness

sounds more than a little depressing

considering that I typically want to

crawl into a hole every fall during

the first few days of daylight savings.

I think the novelty of 82 straight days

of twenty-four hour sunlight

would wear off pretty quickly too,

though it might be kind of cool

to sit outside and read a magazine

by the light of a midnight sun.

I’d be concerned about isolation

because none of the roads are really

connected to the rest of the state,

and despite the spring whale hunt,

I have some definite reservations

about the quality of the cultural landscape.

If forced to choose only one thing though

that might give me the most trouble

and maybe even be a real deal breaker,

I guess it would have to be the constant visits

by all of those gigantic man-eating bears.

"Everything and Nothing"

2010-06-02T18:49:00.004-04:00

This is not a poem
about your mortality
the duality of man
or the dark night of the soul

This is not a poem
about your controlling mother
your repressed sexuality
or the interpretation of dreams

This is not a poem
about the incredible landscape
the phases of the moon
or the healing power of trees

This is not a poem
about the nature of poetry
the unread books on your shelves
or the bad TV you can't stop watching

This is not a poem
about social anxiety
your boss’s incompetence
or the co-worker who won’t leave you alone

This is not a poem
about negative self-talk
your tendency to procrastinate
or your epic battle with loneliness

This is a poem
about all the things you do not want
and the fact that they get you no closer
to that which is – or could be

"IKEA"

2010-04-27T20:27:00.005-04:00

Not like that girl in that book
that became a movie
with Natalie Portman.
She had nowhere else to go,
so she slept in a tent at Wal-Mart.

No. I mean I’m ready to move
out of my apartment today
into the land of name brands
I can neither pronounce nor understand.
I want to live at IKEA.

Bring me a life
where the beds are always made
and the most challenging of choices
is between the two shower curtains
and their polka-dotted patterns.

I’m ready for a life
that’s easy to assemble,
with color-coded parts,
and an arrow to follow
when I lose my way.

Take me to a life
where all of the designs
are full of long clean lines
and every interaction begins and ends
with the promise of sugar and cinnamon

I’m ready to move in.

"Ducks"

2009-10-18T19:01:00.010-04:00

People imagine that ducks
living on public park ponds
have grown to accept
the presence of humans
because they waddle
so unabashedly close
jostling for position
after the next tossed
handful of bread crumbs,
and it’s easy to believe
on a lazy summer afternoon.
But watch those ducks on the outskirts
who remain unsatisfied.
Perhaps they arrived late
or were simply boxed out
when the feeding frenzy began.
Look closely next time
as the last crumb falls.
Most of those ducks will
race back to the water
when the food is gone
like the pistol was just fired
at the start of a triathlon,
but a few of them will linger
looking angry enough to fight.

"Soda Poem"

2009-06-28T20:52:00.008-04:00

I was disappointed to discover
that the Coca-Cola people
have discontinued production
of Black Cherry Vanilla Coke
because as a fan of both
Cherry Coke and Vanilla Coke
I felt they had finally succeeded
by including the one ingredient
I have always believed they were missing:
Blackness.