The Sacred
by Stephen Dunn

After the teacher asked if anyone had
a sacred place
and the students fidgeted and shrank

in their chairs, the most serious of them all
said it was his car,
being in it alone, his tape deck playing

things he'd chosen, and others knew the truth
had been spoken
and began speaking about their rooms,

their hiding places, but the car kept coming up,
the car in motion,
music filling it, and sometimes one other person

who understood the bright altar of the dashboard
and how far away
a car could take him from the need

to speak, or to answer, the key
in having a key
and putting it in, and going.

"The Sacred" by Stephen Dunn, from Between Angels. © W.W. Norton & Company, 1989. Reprinted with permission

A day so perfect I wish I could can it...

Sunday was a perfect day. I went for a morning walk and the sky was azure with wisps of white clouds that seemed painted there just to show off the intensity of the blue sky. As I took my morning walk, my ipod in hand, I just couldn't get over how good the sunshine made me feel. I came upon an oak tree that was as golden yellow as any spring daffodil, its crown radiating and standing so tall above the townhouses it stood next too. It commanded me to stop, so I layed down on a sunny spot of lawn to stare at it and soak in the crisp air and the bright sun and the feeling of happiness a sunny day can bring. I wished I could bottle it tight, saving it to take sips from each gloomy night.

And then that night, I went to a friends and made fresh apple pie, from freshly gathered apples. And it was warm and inviting and sugary and spicy, both the pie and the conversation.

Ahhhhhhh.

20 again

Bono is the coolest man on the planet.

Oh yes, I went to the rock concert that U2 played at Fed-Ex Field. And that is what it was. It was a ROCK Concert. It was everything a good rock concert should be, and definitively, it rocked.

I was tired. It was a crazy day of grown-up busy work and the director of my play called me 4 times about nothing. I set down the phone, worked, and picked it up periodically to see if she was still talking. But it was a good day too, cause I was going with my friend, Miss M., to see one of the greatest rock bands of all time. And they did not disappoint. They played a great mix of new and old stuff, they sounded wonderful, and each band member brought their own unique energy that somehow blends so perfectly. The intensity of the Clayton with his punk white hair, the ferocity of Mullen who pulled out these amazing african rhythms on a drum he danced around with, and The Edge who has that relaxed, just got done in the garage so I guess I will put on a guitar and rock the house thing going on. As Miss M. noted "he has paint on his pants". And of course there was Bono.

I met Bono once when I was working at the capital. I met quite a few famous people, but Bono is the only one that had me star struck. He wasn't very tall, and his irish mug wasn't shaved. He was wearing those squarrish glasses and walking toward the House of Representatives with the Speaker of the House. And I was giving a tour. I looked up, and just on impulse I screamed "Oh my g- it's Bono!"

And I have to say that feeling has never really gone away. When I saw him walking on the stage, inside I was screaming, Oh my g- it's Bono! He has been my favorite for so long, since I first decided what I liked. I even defended the disco album (which was not their greatest moment). And it seems like he has only gotten better and I like him more.

But the best part of the concert was that I danced for 2 hours and didn't even feel tired. I felt great! I felt young! I felt like the days when I didn't work all day doing things that seemed ridiculous and listening to self-important people blab on indefinitely. It was like being 20 again. Now who doesn't love that feeling?

blog blues

I haven't written in a while.

Well, I haven't written in my blog for a while. I have stopped writing altogether.

When I started this blog, I meant for it to be a little repository of my thoughts about life. A chronicle of my ponderings, so to speak. I didn't want it to be a chronicle of my life or a journal of that kind. I try not to keep a journal of my who, what, whens, and wheres, although they creep in. But I do try to keep a blog of my whys, what ifs and wonder whethers.

And I have come to realize that is a bit pretentious. That in fact people would rather read about who, what, when, or why. I don't blame them one bit. Truthfully, the blathering of a persons thoughts are really most interesting to the person writing them. Only once in a while do you set on a gem of a phrase that interests more people.

I came to realize this a while ago, but it has crystallized when I saw a movie about a blogger, and what was engaging about the blog is that it chronicled a specific journey, which is what most interesting personal blogs do. And they tend to be a specific journey, not a general this is my life journey.

So, I have a very important decision to make about this blog. Will it continue to be a sporadic smattering of my inner ramblings that for some bizarre reason I feel the need to spout into the world. Does the world really need another armchair philosopher?
Or will it be something more directed? hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

This is what I am talking about. WOW!!!!!!

Washington Taps Into a Potent New Force in Diplomacy - NYTimes.com: "The BBC’s Persian-language television channel said that for a time on Tuesday, it was receiving about five videos a minute from amateurs, even though the channel is largely blocked within Iran. One showed pro-government militia members firing weapons at a rally.
“We’ve been struck by the amount of video and eyewitness testimony,” said Jon Williams, the BBC world news editor. “The days when regimes can control the flow of information are over.”"

It makes me wish I tweeted too

I have been dismissive of social networking mediums before. And I have often gotten texts that I wanted to do a spell check on and send back. The "shorthand" of texting grates on me.
However, learning about how twitter, facebook, youtube and texting have enabled the Iranian groups to organize into marches and protests makes me love them.

There are plenty of things on twitter I think are silly. I have no idea why anyone would want to be notified about what Ashton Kutcher is doing at any particular moment. And I am tired of CNN reporting about the email and tweets they get back. Is that really news? Evidently it can be.

Twitter, youtube and facebook seem to be the main communication devices to inform us about what is really happening over in Iran as these events unfold. And one great part is that we seem to be getting information on these events from the people of Iran, which doesn't mean it is a bigger view, but it is a view we haven't gotten as much as before. It is really cool!

I always appreciated and loved how the internet was an opportunity to empower people as much as it is a tool to spread useless propoganda or porn. But this is truly remarkable. Can you imagine how Tienanmen Square would play out now. WOW.

Men who make you want to be good and the boys that make you wanna be bad

Went to a delightful production at the Folger of Tom Stoppard's Arcadia this weekend, and I have to say, one of the lead actors had me pretty hot. He was totally my type- dark, brooding, poet type. Of course, that was the character more than the actor, but oh well. The thing is, he was the kind of boy that makes me want to be bad.

Then the next day I went to church. And there are some very attractive men there and they actually make me want to be good. They are good men doing good things, trying to be good themselves.

But of course, I dreamed about the bad boy.

I know the bad boy will disappoint me. I know that he will be cruel to me. I know that he will cheat on me, lie to me, and leave me badly. But I have a hard time not finding them so alluring, because I don't have to be any better to deserve the bad boy. I can be who I am now, and the bad boy will have very little problem with that until he is bored and looking for someone else to be bad with.

But the good man is a different deal altogether. If I want the good man, I have to be oh so much better than I am. And that seems very hard to be.

Of course the ideal is the good man that has a bad boy in him. If you are to believe Jane Austen and Bridget Jones and almost every romantic novelist in the world, that guy exists. "Good boys do kiss that way"... And I guess that I will have to take their word for it cause I have never experienced that. Bad boys definitely kiss that way, but I have never had a great kiss with a good man.

All of this is reflective of my flaws. I know it is silly to like the bad boy, and I have learned that they do not change. I am not a complete idiot.

But is there a Good man that is partly bad boy? And if there is, am I interesting enough for the boy and good enough for the man?

In Good Company

"Because of things I have done on behalf of justice to the workingman, I have often been called a Socialist. Usually I have not taken the trouble to notice the epithet. I am not afraid of names and I am not one of those who fears to do what is right because someone will confound me by partisans with whose principles I am not in accord.

Moreover, I know that many American Socialists as high minded and honorable citizens, who in reality are truly radical social reformers. They are oppressed by the brutalities and industrial injustices which we see everywhere about us.

When I recall how often I have seen Socialists and ardent non-Socialists working side-by-side for some specific measure of industrial or social reform, and how I have found opposed to them on the side of privilege many shrill reactionaries who insist on calling all reformers "Socialists", I refuse to be panic-stricken by having the title mistakenly applied to me."

~ Theodore Roosevelt "An Autobiography" 1913 pp. 498 (MacMillan, NY)