[cancelled checks]
hiawatha
chi omegas snowdrifting
anonymity spelled out in blue
wisping away
the favorable weather
cushioned by
fashionable storms
jungian dreams
of Saks and the Five & Dime
seaside, lakeside
tower in the background
CG filing for divorce
cooing his Freudian moves
that white queen
be his mostest girlie
inventions on the down low
he and Siggy were both
popping beyond their
limits, emperor & clown
each the other's choice
when it all fell boom.
chi omegas snowdrifting
anonymity spelled out in blue
wisping away
the favorable weather
cushioned by
fashionable storms
jungian dreams
of Saks and the Five & Dime
seaside, lakeside
tower in the background
CG filing for divorce
cooing his Freudian moves
that white queen
be his mostest girlie
inventions on the down low
he and Siggy were both
popping beyond their
limits, emperor & clown
each the other's choice
when it all fell boom.
Labels: fishy blooms
21 Comments:
This is a deep one. I like the picture to start it off, and I like the words. The ideas are more intriguing, but finals await. I'll read some more tomorrow, dive into the fishy blooms.
T: Certainly did not start that way, but I got lured into the murky Siggy/Carlito depths, those little playground feudies.
ok I give, who are Siggy and Carlito?
Good morning, Dee: Nominally, Freud and Jung (Carl Gustav), but they needn't be in your poem. Jung had a lakeside tower and a sandbox, so when the word lakeside dropped, so did his mug. Where there's Gustavo, Siggy can't be far behind.
haha when you google Carlito you get the wrestler. There is an interesting cross world statement. Maybe not so different? Wrestling the psyche would require some heavy duty muscle I would think. This line "anonymity spelled out in blue" - I like the seesaw pair of docks, paradoxes in here. I say leggo my ego.
Dee: I like the crossworlding, and my, the puns. I can't remember: is you is or is you ain't a Libra?
of course. It's why I can never decide if I want to be practical or magical or can't I be both? I'm not greedy, I just want it all though all not being material but the gifts. When I get to heaven I will write Psalms, sing with the purest voice and have pearlescent wings and be skinny no matter how much cloud cheesecake I eat.
Dee: Libran Tina's a punster, too.
You're already writing psalms. Will the ones in heaven have puns?
They would most certainly - only much more original. Anyone who doesn't think God has a sense of humor has never beheld hippos, duck-billed platypi (?) or HUMANS. What must it be like to hear God's laughter? Can you even imagine?
I got stuck trying to find archetypes in Saks Fifth Avenue and Five & Dime. I tend to the think the Five & Dime has more of them. But I can see a Trickster all dolled up and laughing his head off... (or her head off).
And I think we do hear echoes of God's laughter in the laughter of babies and maybe lovers.
I got thrown off by the "C" for Carl. I always thought it was spelled with a good, old Teutonic "K" (as in Karl). I was trying to think who else Jung and Freud would be playing with. I thought Lacan was a bit later, and the letters didn't fit. Trying to find an "id" to play tag with the ego and the super-ego, when they were best buds all along. Bff's with no one in between :)
Teresa: No question there are more archetypes floating about in the Five & Dime (thanks for reminding me). CGJ wasn't Teut enough to go with the full tilt K, hence the sandbox. My head would explode if I tried to fit Lacan in here.
Ms Dee: I'm with you on the humans: surely God's grandest hoax. Us and fruit cake.
All you'd need was a mirror or two, and Lacan's image would pop right out... pretty simple, a mirror image in the lake.
T: I've never known Lacan and "simple" to go together. Won't that be a blue sky day . . .
I was just saying that it would be simple to inject a Lacanian mirror image in Freud's lake. Once the "other" manifested itself nothing would be simple, but it could be lots of fun. Of course, I would not be the poet with Siggy, CGJ, and Lacan dancing tarantellas in my brain, so perhaps I am making light of a potentially head-ache producing situation. Back to looking for archetypes in Saks Fifth Avenue, that's much more fun, and not so mind-boggling.
T: I'm with you, girl: I say we go shopping.
Call me next weekend and it's a date. Have to pass that killer Chinese lit final first...
Then a few hours after that our graduate seminar has what the professor has billed as "Cambodian Restaurant Dinner Final." The study sheet is a map to a local Cambodian restaurant. A couple of us asked for a better study guide and were ignored. The best we can do is practice eating...
Teresa: Grad seminar prof sounds like an educator after my own heart. Prof's picking up the tab, yes? Or is Ah-nold?
Neither the prof nor Ah-nold (he's cutting services to the masses). One of our classmates got the $500 scholarship for first place in Chinese research (I couldn't win it two years in a row...), so she has promised to pick up the tab. Gotta love true Asian manners.
I think you would like our grad seminar prof. She is a real zenmaster.
I found this quote to tack onto your conversation with Dee about God's laughter: "It is only in dreams that we are strong and generous enough to look God in the face while he bursts out laughing. That creation, really! Those creatures! It takes some doing! And I also laugh to have caught God doing what he has never done elsewhere." --Helene Cixous, "Writing blind," in "Stigmata: Escaping Texts," Routledge, 1998.
The next part of my thesis deals with gender constructions in my author's kung fu novels. I missed the 80s and 90s while I was in Taiwan and then homeschooling the kids. I asked my thesis advisor (above-mentioned zenmaster prof) for recommendations to give myself a feel for what was going on in feminism in the 80s and 90s. She told me to first read Luce Irigaray and Helene Cixous, not that they will apply to China, just for background and understanding. She loves throwing things out like that. But I am reading some very interesting books. Now I am also reading scholarly journals about how concepts of women in China changed over the ages. But nothing as eloquent or philosophical as Irigaray and Cixous.
I can hear Bob Dylan singing this one!
Good afternoon, Tammie: You got his cell #? I swore I had it . . .
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