Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende, Uncategorized, Writings

Poem: A writer’s lament during the holidays

img_9813That moment when you realize the offbeat lead to a blog post that you have been struggling with since Thanksgiving isn’t really the lead to a blog post, but an offbeat poem that celebrates the particular insanity that grips us between Halloween and Boxer Day.

I say this, fully cognizant of the fact that I am not a poet.

So you must draw your own conclusions:

 

OH, MAN, THIS WILL NEVER GET DONE

You know how when you start a blog item

And then, like, three days later,

You wake up as if from a trance

And realize

You never posted it 

And now you have to go and change

All

These

Tenses

Because you wrote in the present tense

But time has not stood still

And while you are making

All

These

Changes

Something else comes along

That would make an interesting post

And you become

Paralyzed

Trying to mash it in with your original post

Because you don’t want to throw away

All

That

Hard

Work

And instead of having

A beginning,

A middle,

And an end,

The post takes on the shape of a Christmas tree:

Thin at the top,

Bloated at the bottom,

And with all sorts of shiny, unrelated objects

Hanging off the branches,

And this happens

Over and

Over and

over again?

This is what is called “the holidays.”

Everything happens.

And nothing gets done.

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Memoirs -- fact and fiction, Rants and raves, Uncategorized, Writings

Dream sequence: Walking the Length of the Erie Canal

map-erie canalI have been asked today to discuss the proper way to traverse the Erie Canal, the 363-mile waterway that links Albany, New York, to Buffalo and the Great Lakes. 

Before we go any further, it is important for you to know that I was asked to deliver this talk in a dream.

I know.

It shocked me too.

Continue reading

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Rants and raves

Art world goes bananas over Cattelan’s ‘Comedian’ and I want to cash in …

warhole

What you see here is a merger of the sensibilities and artistic triumphs of Maurizio Cattelan and Andy Warhol, both of who saw the intrinsic (and financial) value in the humble banana as art. I do not expect much for this appropriation and mashup of their creativity. Contact me privately with your offer. Make my Christmas …

Long before there was Maurizio Cattelan and his $120,000 banana duct-taped to a wall, there was Andy Warhol and a whole bunch of bananas. And they both claimed them as art.

Like everyone else in the universe, I have been chortling over Cattelan’s “Comedian” which created such a sensation, if that is the correct word, at the Miami Basel earlier this month.

“Miami Basel is literally such a joke,” wrote one friend.

“It’s a party,” responded another, who actually lives in Miami. Continue reading

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Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende

In San Miguel’s Centro: Our Lady of the Steps

She sits on the cold stone stoop. She looks neither left nor right.

Her head is bowed, mostly, her left hand extends for alms.

The hand rests on her knee. It is rigid and curled into an unnatural cup. A shape carved over a lifetime. A boney cup meant to hold, pesos, centavos.

Give or don’t give. It is all the same. Continue reading

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Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende

I know why the caged flowers sing

IMG_9029What crimes were perpetrated upon society, so heinous that such innocent-looking flowers should be locked behind bars?

I ask you.

Are they behind these bars for our protection?

Are they the offspring of legendary Bella Donna? Kin to the deadly sweet-smelling Nerium Oleander? Gang members of Titan Arum, alias the stinky “corpse plant”? Continue reading

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Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende

Pickup art: Bed-time stories

artpickupThe bed of a pickup truck is probably the last place most of us would go looking for art.

The pickup truck has one job: to haul things. We fill the beds with wood, bricks, dirt, furniture, boxes, people, camping gear, tools, food, stuff and more stuff  … then we haul it from Point A to Point B.

Job well done. Continue reading

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Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende

‘I rescue hummingbirds’

IMG_8932Hummingbirds are drawn to the atrium at the top of our stairwell.

The blue glass lantern looks like a feeder, I think.

But the atrium is like a fish wier.  Once a bird flies in, it can’t get out.

There is something sad and poetic about this, as they flutter from corner to corner. Like little feathered Marcel Marceaus, they feel the edges of the glass box, probe the invisible, flap wings against the glass.

Freedom is a fraction of an inch away but the glass will not yield to their perceptions.

Sometimes, on the outside, a mate flies up to the glass. You can feel the concern. Continue reading

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