What writers write

The only thing I've ever read by Kurt Vonnegut is his short story Harrison Bergeron. It's a dystopian short story about a future America in which everyone is completely equal. The equality is enforced by the Handicapper General, who gives people masks, hangs weights around their necks, shaves their eyebrows, and makes them wear "radios" which provide a constant stream of noise to interrupt their thoughts. Everyone is made equal by stifling the things that make them beautiful, intelligent, and unique.

I've heard of his novels, like A Man Without a Country and Slaughterhouse Five, but Harrison Bergeron is the only thing I've ever read by Vonnegut. So when I think of this Vonnegut, I think of tragedy and dystopias and a bleak future.

You can imagine, then, that when I read this poem which Vonnegut wrote in 1961, I was more than a little surprised.

Two little good girls
Watchful and wise –
Clever little hands
And big kind eyes –
Look for signs that the world is good,
Comport themselves as good folk should.
They wonder at a father
Who is sad and funny strong,
And they wonder at a mother
Like a childhood song.
And what, and what
Do the two think of?
Of the sun
And the moon
And the earth
And love.

It's such a charming poem, good and sweet and hopeful. Nothing at all like Harrison Bergeron. Something I would have expected maybe from Shel Silverstein, but not Vonnegut. It's just so cute and nice, and reading it kind of renews your childhood wonder. It makes you look at the world through an honest, youthful lens, if only for a moment.

- Viscountess, 2012-13

Serendipity

Do you know the Academy of American Poets? 
(Yes, I just linked you to the Wikipedia article)

The AAP is basically your one-stop shop for all things poetry. Their aim is "to support American poets at all stages of their careers and to foster the appreciation of contemporary poetry." They have a number of prestigious awards that they give out annually. Their website is a treasure trove of information on every American poet, with selected works as well as audio of their poems that you can listen to for free. You can find some pretty fun things on their site - resources for teaching poetry, there's a poetry calendar of events going on throughout the US, you can even find poetic "landmarks" like the homes or grave sites of your favorite poets of yesteryear.

One of my favorite things about the Academy is their "Poem-A-Day" program. Every weekday morning, I'll get an email from the Academy with a new poem from a contemporary American poet, usually one that I've never heard of before. On weekend mornings, the Academy sends out famous poems by some of the world's most renowned poets.

I think Friday might be included as part of the weekend because today's poem was Shakespeare's Sonnet #30. Who knows how many times I've read that one. Tens of hundreds of thousands maybe, give or take. But I'm not complaining. Actually, there probably isn't a more perfect poem to match my current, almost perpetual, state of mind than this sonnet. 

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:

When the world is quiet, and you have a moment alone in your own head, your mind sometimes wanders to an earlier time. For some reason, you start to remember the negatives of your past, and the old wounds open up again and feel new.

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:

Tears fall for all of the mistakes, the goodbyes, the losses, the untimely actions, the spoken and unspoken words. . .

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.

It's easy to get caught up in a cycle of regret, to feel like your failures will continue to follow you where ever you go. You might think that you'll have to continue to atone for your sins for the rest of your life. Nothing you do, no matter how much you improve, no matter how much you've realized since, will change the past. How, then, can you move on?

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.

I think about a friend of mine, and about how much our friendship means to me. I think about how much my friend is always such a joy, and how seeing my friend brightens my day. Even just thinking about my friend lifts my spirits. The mistakes and failures and losses are still there, but at least for that moment they aren't weighing me down. Sorrow, for the moment, has ended. I think about my friend and all of a sudden, life doesn't seem so bad.

- Viscountess, '12-13

We baked, we sold, we conquered.

We had a bake sale on Tuesday.

We wore fedoras. And sunglasses. Or at least I wore sunglasses for a while until I realized it was hard to make eye contact with potential customers if they can't see your eyes. Erich tried on some shades, too, but ultimately decided against them. And he was having too good of a hair day to put on a hat.

Kudos goes to Sara M. for most of the delicious and beautiful items we sold at our sale. Snow White's Curse, Buried Treasure, Smooth Criminals - the list goes on. Also, mucho grazie to Erich for his spectacular jungle-themed chocolate covered pretzels.

Pictures of these delicious delights will be up here soon so you can froth at the mouth this early in the morning!

- Viscountess, '12-13