I haven’t missed you, although I’d love to say that I thought about you everyday.
The start to 2010 was totally kick ass, if I may say so. I went to Mangalore, attended the most romantic + fun wedding EVER, and generally had the time of my life. Also, I got to wear a pretty purple dress, which of course is a highlight!
Then, I came home to a brand new shiny silver 8 GB iPod 5G Nano which I have christened Zora. She now finds a permanent place in my pocket. I have discovered that life is so much more fun when it’s got its own soundtrack. Plus, I get to NOT hear all the sooperdooper kannada hits some men seem to think is ”flattering” to sing when a girl walks past them on the road.
All this has managed to distract me from the fact that I turn *shudder* thatdreadedage this year.
I also know that this is a bit random, but some teachers just KILL my love for poetry with their ‘listen-to-me-I-am-going-to-tell-you-the-meaning-of-this-poem’ attitude. Poetry needs to be discovered, woman. It’s not fair that you get to THRUST your ‘understanding’ of it on anybody just because you want to feel like you deserve that pay cheque at the end of the month.
Poetry spammage soon. Watch out. Not mine though.
Excerpt from John Updike’s 1973 Phi Beta Kappa poem:
APOLOGIES TO HARVARD
We took the world as given. Cigarettes
Were twenty-several cents a pack, and gas
as much per gallon. Sex came wrapped in rubber
And veiled in supernatural scruples—call
Them chivalry. A certain breathlessness
Was felt; perhaps the Bomb, which after all
Mushroomed us as we entered puberty,
Waking us from the newspaper-nightmare
Our childhoods had napped through, was realer then;
Our lives, at least, were not assumed to be
Our right; we lived, by shifts, on sufferance.
The world contained policemen, true; and these
Should be avoided; governments were bunk,
But well-intentioned; blacks were beautiful
But seldom seen; the poor were with ye always.
We thought one war as moral as the next,
Believed that life was tragic and absurd,
And were absurdly cheerful on that basis.
We loved John Donne and Hopkins, Yeats and Pound,
Medieval history was rather swank,
Psychology was in the mind; abstract
Things grabbed us where we lived; the only life
Worth living was the private life, and—last,
Worst scandal in this characterization—
We did not know we were a generation.
I stumbled upon a couple of lines from the above excerpt in the book “The Class” by Erich Segal.
The last line is just.. inspiring.
Yay! The weekly online literary journal Poor Mojo’s Almanac(k) has featured my poem as this week’s poetry piece ! You can check it out here
there is this version for him and
another, and the other will
be this version, for her
the insurgence of now
no matter, the fire where it
burned, the embers remain
of a long pause and now
wisdom, I laugh
no pain, no gain
and I lie here when I say
there is a another train to catch
I will never reach
the same place
I will never know the place again
when it is bathed in us