Following is the original version of the "Marsilani" poem intended to encapsulate the collection of short stories. Clumsy, almost better as prose.
Mars-ilani
“Mililani” means “Look Up”
(“Look Skyward,” to be poetic).
For the lower to middle class suburbanites who moved here in the late 60's,
How apt:
Hope,
Look up,
And you too can someday reach the stars.
Mililani’s symbol is the horseshoe
(a three-colored rainbow, to be poetic),
a bridge of dreams,
the embrace of a community,
etc., etc., etc.
I was born and raised in Mililani.
And, like the fruit of a tired tree,
Fell and returned here,
Laying roots in its rusty soil.
Now,
When I look upon my town’s symbol,
I see neither a bridge nor an embrace.
I see the inevitable path of middle class life.
For if it is a rainbow,
it is on the verge of collapsing in on itself,
teetering unsteady
on one invisible pot of gold.
And if it is a horseshoe,
then it is a horseshoe magnet,
drawing the very iron in my blood back
to join the rust of its soil.
If an embrace,
then it holds me
like an umbilical culdesac noose.*
“Mililani” means “Look Up.”
But if you look down,
you may see
ancient tectonic rifts
buckling the pavement.
Look around, and find,
not commonality,
but indifference.
Alienation, a constant companion,
and aliens, sometimes acquaintances.
“Mililani” means “Look Up.”
But all I see
through haze of street lamp and telescopic lens
is a glass mirrored ceiling.
Where my reflection should be standing
in the midst of my hometown,
I only see Mars:
blood soiled,
canal scarred,
rumored of life,
certain of war;
And a Martian,
trying to find a way
to where I’m
supposed to be,
trying to discover
intelligent life.
Thus it is that I dub thee
“Mars-ilani”
town of past futures
and futures passed,
where aliens
shy of escape velocity
find
home
away from home.
* Culdesacs, the “leaves” (if not the flowers) of suburban development, are banned in some modern communities because of the high incidence of a specific kind of “freak accident”: parents unsuspectingly backing over their toddler children, whom they left to play unsupervised in supposed “safety.” An apt symbol for suburban life in general, where “[apparently] nothing ever happens.”
Mililani’s symbol, by the way, resembles a culdesac. Read the story “Culdesacs: Suburban Dream or Dead End” by John Nielsen in the June 7th 2006 broadcast of NPR’s “Morning Edition.”
[There was also some interview on November 3rd, with an author, something Foley? About suburbia. Noted it, but can't remember currently.]
Sunday, December 2, 2007
AWESOME
Now, I'm not a football person, but tonight's win (UH over Washington) was AWESOME. Final Score: 35-28. It's especially impressive considering how far behind UH was: in the first quarter, they were back 21 points. Way to turn it around.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Getting Better... Still...
The score now is 28-14, UW... No, let me amend that, 28- 21!!! Can't help myself. Don't usually watch, but let's hope UH can win DESPITE me.
Jinxer
I decided not to actively watch the UH-UW game. I was watching the first few minutes, in which Washington scored two touchdowns with apparent ease, and almost took Brennan out. De-pressing... My via-negativa perspective is probably jinxing the team. So, I'll check in, fleetingly, periodically, just to check on the score. Not long enough to do any more damage...
Friday, November 30, 2007
Deidara
This halloween, I tried to dress up as Deidara (^), from Naruto.
Deidara is a member of Akatsuki, which in the Narutoverse is a criminal organization. All Akatsuki members (of which there are nine known, at least as of now) wear these black cloaks with red clouds on them. The Akatsuki members usually move in pairs.
My favorite character, Deidara, comes from the Hidden Boulder village. He has mouths on both hands (and a hidden mouth on his chest). He always carries a pouch filled with clay (of the C3 C4 variety). He is able to shape that clay into any form that he wishes, by using the mouths on his hands to "chew" the clay and spit it out into a finished form. He fashions spiders, birds, anything. The shaped clay is able to move, fly, whatever, and explode either when contacting a target, or when Deidara makes a hand symbol ("Katsu!").
Deidara considers himself an artist. His partner (former) was named Sasori, and was also an artist, in his own fashion. Sasori was a master puppeteer. He created deadly puppets, and considered each creation an "exercise in eternity," in staving off the effects of time. Sasori, in fact, became a puppet himself, immortal, with only his heart serving as a remnant of his mortal body, only his heart pulling the strings.
While Sasori considered art a striving for eternity, Deidara, by contrast, repeatedly states, "ART IS A BANG!" A fleeting, and terribly explosive, act. In fact, Deidara's objective, if anything, is to (literally) create an impression...
I appreciate the desperation in Deidara. Art is a terribly desperate thing. Without it, we implode. The nothing that is outside puts a steady and sometimes overwhelming pressure on the fragile world we contain within us. Sometimes it is only by means of a desperate "explosion," a "BANG," that we are able to assert our perspective on the world.
(Not that I'm going to be the next UNA bomber, or anything...)
Deidara is a member of Akatsuki, which in the Narutoverse is a criminal organization. All Akatsuki members (of which there are nine known, at least as of now) wear these black cloaks with red clouds on them. The Akatsuki members usually move in pairs.
My favorite character, Deidara, comes from the Hidden Boulder village. He has mouths on both hands (and a hidden mouth on his chest). He always carries a pouch filled with clay (of the C3 C4 variety). He is able to shape that clay into any form that he wishes, by using the mouths on his hands to "chew" the clay and spit it out into a finished form. He fashions spiders, birds, anything. The shaped clay is able to move, fly, whatever, and explode either when contacting a target, or when Deidara makes a hand symbol ("Katsu!").
Deidara considers himself an artist. His partner (former) was named Sasori, and was also an artist, in his own fashion. Sasori was a master puppeteer. He created deadly puppets, and considered each creation an "exercise in eternity," in staving off the effects of time. Sasori, in fact, became a puppet himself, immortal, with only his heart serving as a remnant of his mortal body, only his heart pulling the strings.
While Sasori considered art a striving for eternity, Deidara, by contrast, repeatedly states, "ART IS A BANG!" A fleeting, and terribly explosive, act. In fact, Deidara's objective, if anything, is to (literally) create an impression...
I appreciate the desperation in Deidara. Art is a terribly desperate thing. Without it, we implode. The nothing that is outside puts a steady and sometimes overwhelming pressure on the fragile world we contain within us. Sometimes it is only by means of a desperate "explosion," a "BANG," that we are able to assert our perspective on the world.
(Not that I'm going to be the next UNA bomber, or anything...)
2 + 2 = 5
Lyrics to one of my current favorite Radiohead songs, from "Hail to the Thief." Might seem confusing, but it's supposed to be based upon Orwell's "1984." 2 + 2 = 5 is a nonsensical statement, as is "January has April's Showers." The song outlines the struggle of individual (and rational) thought when pitted against the Mis-information of a subversive totalitarian regime... The middle section (which totally rips, BTW) where "You have not been paying attention" repeats over and over and over, represents the impossible task of being vigilant against Big Brother... And in the final section, in which statements and assertions are repeatedly negated (I'm NOT), the singer/protagonist eventually capitulates, becomes muddled, confused, ambiguous, and vulnerable... "MAYBE not."
It was (and is often) thought that Thom Yorke intended this song as a critique of the Bush administration, something which he denies... Nevertheless, the lyric, "Hail to the Thief" tempts this assertion.
2+2=5
(We're on. Thats a nice way to start Jonny)
Are you such a dreamer
To put the world to rights?
I'll stay home forever
Where two and two always makes a five
I'll lay down the tracks
Sandbag and hide (oil?)
January has April's showers
And two and two always makes a five
It's the devil's way now
There is no way out
You can SCREAM and you can shout
It is too late now
Because...
You have not been!Payin' attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attention
You have not been paying attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attention
You have not been paying attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attention
You have not been paying attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attention
oohh
I try to sing along
But the music's all wrong'
Cause I’m not
'Cause I’m not
I swat 'em like flies
but like flies the buggers keep coming back NOT
But I’m not
All hail to the thief
All hail to the thief
But I'm not. But I'm not. But I'm not. But I'm not.
Don't question my authority
or put me in the box
'Cause I'm not. 'Cause I'm not,
Oh go and tell the king that the sky is falling in
When it's not. But it's not. But it's not.
Maybe not
Maybe NOT!
It was (and is often) thought that Thom Yorke intended this song as a critique of the Bush administration, something which he denies... Nevertheless, the lyric, "Hail to the Thief" tempts this assertion.
2+2=5
(We're on. Thats a nice way to start Jonny)
Are you such a dreamer
To put the world to rights?
I'll stay home forever
Where two and two always makes a five
I'll lay down the tracks
Sandbag and hide (oil?)
January has April's showers
And two and two always makes a five
It's the devil's way now
There is no way out
You can SCREAM and you can shout
It is too late now
Because...
You have not been!Payin' attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attention
You have not been paying attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attention
You have not been paying attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attention
You have not been paying attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attentionPayin' attention
oohh
I try to sing along
But the music's all wrong'
Cause I’m not
'Cause I’m not
I swat 'em like flies
but like flies the buggers keep coming back NOT
But I’m not
All hail to the thief
All hail to the thief
But I'm not. But I'm not. But I'm not. But I'm not.
Don't question my authority
or put me in the box
'Cause I'm not. 'Cause I'm not,
Oh go and tell the king that the sky is falling in
When it's not. But it's not. But it's not.
Maybe not
Maybe NOT!
On Writing
Been taking a break from the aggressive story/poetry writing... In lieu of this, I have been reading an excellent guide on fiction writing. It is called the "Modern Library Writer's Workshop" by Stephen Koch. It's a book about the process of writing, how writers do what they do... It is supported by an unbelievable amount of research, the writing process as described by the writers themselves (or their reluctant family and friends). Vladimir Nabokov, Toni Morisson, Stephen King, Charles Dickens...
The insights of this book are great. I'd recommend it to anyone trying to write short fiction or novels.
Previously, I felt that "Writing Down the Bones" was the best guide. But that book is essentially about free-writing, and bypassing the internal censor. Important stuff, but that hardly gets you to the nitty gritty of PLOT, CHARACTER, etcetera... It could be sufficient if you are trying to find seeds for POETRY. But for prose, you need a minimum of structure and organization, and for that, you can't just "stream-of-consciousness" your way through.
Some valuable insights:
*(From the cover): "Make [your] characters want something right away- even if it's only a glass of water. Characters paralyzed by the meaninglessness of modern life still have to drink water from time to time." -Kurt Vonnegut
*Stories are basically about conflict. Characters should be forcefully flung into conflict, not lollygag about as "innocent bystanders." There is nothing "innocent" in a story, nor should anything "stand by." Conflict, conflict, conflict.
*A basic problem of all memoir type/autobiographical type "fiction" is, paradoxically, not that the narrative is too self-absorbed. Quite the opposite. The author often hasn't developed the character of the self enough in the story, such that he/she becomes thoroughly ambigious (read:boring), and thus so does the entire story itself, of which s/he is the (absent) center.
The insights of this book are great. I'd recommend it to anyone trying to write short fiction or novels.
Previously, I felt that "Writing Down the Bones" was the best guide. But that book is essentially about free-writing, and bypassing the internal censor. Important stuff, but that hardly gets you to the nitty gritty of PLOT, CHARACTER, etcetera... It could be sufficient if you are trying to find seeds for POETRY. But for prose, you need a minimum of structure and organization, and for that, you can't just "stream-of-consciousness" your way through.
Some valuable insights:
*(From the cover): "Make [your] characters want something right away- even if it's only a glass of water. Characters paralyzed by the meaninglessness of modern life still have to drink water from time to time." -Kurt Vonnegut
*Stories are basically about conflict. Characters should be forcefully flung into conflict, not lollygag about as "innocent bystanders." There is nothing "innocent" in a story, nor should anything "stand by." Conflict, conflict, conflict.
*A basic problem of all memoir type/autobiographical type "fiction" is, paradoxically, not that the narrative is too self-absorbed. Quite the opposite. The author often hasn't developed the character of the self enough in the story, such that he/she becomes thoroughly ambigious (read:boring), and thus so does the entire story itself, of which s/he is the (absent) center.
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