Light Years by James Salter

My friend Erin recommended this book to me by saying, "You do NOT want to read this book!" Well, of course I had to read it!! It's now in my top 10 favorite books. I love discovering an author I've never read before. Mr. Salter is a master of the craft of fiction. His writing defines the word 'luminous'. I seldom meet characters in fiction that affect me as profoundly and deeply as the ones in this book did. The characters are burned into my brain like a distant memory of old friends...

It is the story of the marriage and lives of Nedra and Viri, set in New York in 1958. The writing is profound, prosaic, sparse and poetic. This book is not for those who are looking for light reading, but if you are fearless and like to read a story that both shatters and wounds you, then you need to read this book. I have probably 80% of the book underlined and highlighted, it's that good.

I leave you with a few of my favorite quotes to whet your appetite for more. Enjoy!

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A description of Nedra:

"She is twenty-eight. Her dreams still cling to her, adorn her; she is confident, composed, she is related to long-necked creatures, ruminants, abandoned saints...Her life is concealed." page 8

"It's not only that he knows wines, he knows the poetry of them." page 11

"The bottles of wine were finished. The color of their emptiness was the color in cathedral naves." page 12

"There are really two kinds of life. There is, as Viri says, the one people believe you are living, and there is the other. It is this other which causes the trouble, this other we long to see." page 24

"He suffered and loved like a woman; he remembered the weather and the menu in restaurants, hours that were like a broken necklace in a drawer." page 78

"In a single year she had abandoned her youth..." page 130

"The ending of days was too long, the darkness came and crushed her, she could not move...'Do we really only have one season? One Summer,' she said, 'and it's over?'" page 140

"The power to change one's life comes from a paragraph, a lone remark. The lines that penetrate us are slender, like the flukes that live in river water and enter the bodies of swimmers...The polished sentences had arrived, it seemed, like so many other things, at just the right time. How can we imagine what our lives should be without the illumination of the lives of others?" page 161

"No one knew Nedra as well as Viri. They were the owners of a vast, disordered merchandise; together they had faced it all. When he undressed at night, he was like a diplomat or judge. A white body, gentler and powerless, emerged from his clothes, his position in the world lay tumbled on the floor, fallen from his ankles; he was clement, he was froglike, a touch of melancholia in his smile." page 178

"He was reaching that age, he was at the edge of it, when the world becomes suddenly more beautiful, when it reveals itself in a special way, in every detail, roof and wall, in the leaves of trees fluttering faintly before a rain. The world was opening itself, as if to allow, now that life was shortening, one long, passionate look, and all that had been withheld would finally be given." page 201

"He was fifty, with a large torso and a face coming apart from age like wet paper...His hands were paws. He was the last of the bears, or so it seemed. Wine, stories, friends; he was a man lying fully clothed in the stream of days." page 206

"She prepared her eyes in the mirror. She examined herself, turning her head slowly from side to side. She did not want to grow old. She was reading Madame de Stael. The courage to live when the best days were past. Yes, it was there, but still she could not think of it without confusion." page 208

"There are hours when one literally drinks life." page 227

---------------------------------

I'll stop here. Those are just a few of my favorite quotes.

Have you recently read a book that profoundly affected you? Tell me about it! I'm always looking for MORE to read!!! xoxo

Love & Blessings,
Marion

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"When you reread a classic you do not see more in the book than you did before; you see more in you than was there before". ~Clifton Fadiman

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What Colour Are You? By Marion

What Colour Are You?
by Marion

Sunrise, sunset, sun and moon,
August, July, May and June.
Lust, desire, coals and fire.
Graveyard dirt and funeral pyres.
Roses exploding, tulips tall,
Verbena trailing down black brick walls.
Candles burning, emitting soft light,
Toenail polish and lipstick bright.

It pulses with desire,
Burns with fire,
Drips with lust
In shades of rust.

Red is the brazen harlot of colours.
All other colours envy her---

~Marion, May, 2011

My long-stemmed George Washington Rose

WHAT COLOR ARE YOU?

Whack Report by Kim Addonizio

Whack Report
By Kim Addonizio

A woman at the gym today said to her friend, Most people are whack.
Whack meaning crazy, displeasing, undesirable, stupid, of poor quality,
appalling, masturbatory, laid off, weird, or dead.
Most poets, as it turns out, are generally pretty whack
as in mentally ill. Anne Sexton, for example. Robert Lowell, also quite whack.
I myself am whack about sixty-seven percent of the time,
not counting nights and weekends, when it's more like eighty-two percent.
But let us focus on the beautiful wine glass, eighteen percent full
of sane, delightful, and intelligent fruit and acid. A whiff of rose petals.
Black cherry, pomegranate, cassis, devil's food cake. And limestone. Drink me
and taste my ooids, my hot buttered toast. For we must be ceaselessly whack
as in deranged said another whack poet who became a whack gun runner.
Guns are whack. Much of the world population experiences the whack factor
ninety-nine percent of the time, which can cause excessive thirst, diarrhea, death
and other side-effects. After a while, if you keep saying a word, it kind of loses
its meaning. Whack. Whack. Here come the weed whackers, beheading the grass.

-------------------------------

Thanks, Kelly, for sending me this poem link. I have to admit that I, myself, march to the beat of a different drummer. There is no such thing as normal, IMO, and I'm happy to be whacked to the Nth degree.

Let your Freak Flag Fly proudly!!!

xoxoxo,
Marion :-)

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Today I felt pass over me
A breath of wind from the wings of madness.
~Charles Baudelaire

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"You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it." ~Robin Williams

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"Might we not say to the confused voices which sometimes arise from the depths of our being: 'Ladies, be so kind as to speak only four at a time?'" ~Madame Swetchine

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A little madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.
~Emily Dickinson

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"When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained". ~Mark Twain

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Palindrome by Lisel Mueller

"Sweet Summer" by John Waterhouse. He's one of my favorite artists.

Well, I'm back up and running. My Operating System was fried due to a series of power surges (cheap surge protector). Lucky for me, the Geek Squad at Best Buy were able to save my hard drive and now I have a new tower with not one, but TWO hard drives. Ah, the JOY of lots of room! Oh, and yes, I am now backing up everything. I was shaking with fear when I got there, wondering if I'd lost thousands of photos and much of my poetry. People, back up your work! Live and learn, right?

It is SO beyond HOT here already...already up to 100 humid degrees and it's only the first of June, which, by the way, is the first day of Hurricane Season (I capitalize it out of respect, having lived through 3 Hurricanes). I pray it's a mild one, and not like the weather horrors so many people experienced in May.

My husband and I limp, walk and bitch 3 times around our country block five days a week. Due to the heat, we now have to roll right out of bed and into our sneakers to walk before dawn and even before coffee (hence the bitching). By the third time around, we're drenched in sweat. The joys of Summer are upon us and Summer is officially still 20 days away. OY!

I've been perusing "Alive Together" by Lisel Mueller and fell in love with her amazing poem, 'Palindrome'. I hope you enjoy it!! xoxo

Palindrome - A word, phrase, or sequence that reads the same backward as forward.

Palindrome
By Lisel Mueller

There is less difficulty—indeed, no logical difficulty at all—in
imagining two portions of the universe, say two galaxies, in which
time goes one way in one galaxy and the opposite way in the
other. . . . Intelligent beings in each galaxy would regard their own
time as “forward” and time in the other galaxy as “backward.”
—Martin Gardner, in 'Scientific American' 

Somewhere now she takes off the dress I am
putting on. It is evening in the antiworld
where she lives. She is forty-five years away
from her death, the hole which spit her out
into pain, impossible at first, later easing,
going, gone. She has unlearned much by now.
Her skin is firming, her memory sharpens,
her hair has grown glossy. She sees without glasses,
she falls in love easily. Her husband has lost his
shuffle, they laugh together. Their money shrinks,
but their ardor increases. Soon her second child
will be young enough to fight its way into her
body and change its life to monkey to frog to
tadpole to cluster of cells to tiny island to
nothing. She is making a list:

Things I will need in the past
lipstick
shampoo
transistor radio
Sergeant Pepper
acne cream
five-year diary with a lock

She is eager, having heard about adolescent love
and the freedom of children. She wants to read
Crime and Punishment and ride on a roller coaster
without getting sick. I think of her as she will
be at fifteen, awkward, too serious. In the
mirror I see she uses her left hand to write,
her other to open a jar. By now our lives should
have crossed. Somewhere sometime we must have
passed one another like going and coming trains,
with both of us looking the other way.

From: "Alive Together: New and Selected Poems"

Dust by Dorianne Laux

This is my newest herb garden with mostly citrus-scented herbs for teas (Lemongrass, Lemon Bee Balm, Lemon Verbena, Lemon Thyme, and Lime Basil).

I've been losing poems right and left lately, daydreaming in the sun while inhaling the scent of my blooming Gardenias and reading, reading, reading. I lost an excellent poem just last night about firsts because I was too lazy to get up and grab my pen before I dozed off... so this poem seemed a perfect fit for today. We're still high and dry, thankfully. xoxo

Dust
by Dorianne Laux

Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.
I knew I should make myself get up,
write it down, but it was late,
and I was exhausted from working
all day in the garden, moving rocks.
Now, I remember only the flavor---
not like food, sweet or sharp.
More like a fine powder, like dust.
and I wasn’t elated or frightened,
but simply rapt, aware.
That’s how it is sometimes---
God comes to your window,
all bright light and black wings,
and you’re just too tired to open it.

-----------------------------

"Traveler, there is no path,
paths are made by walking." ~Antonio Machado

------------------------------

"Those moments before a poem comes, when the heightened awareness comes over you, and you realize a poem is buried there somewhere, you prepare yourself. I run around, you know, kind of skipping around the house, marvelous elation. It's as though I could fly." ~Anne Sexton

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"An English poet, Philip Larkin, said that poetry doesn't start with an idea; it starts with a poem... You have to be open to mystery. If you are open to it, mystery will come. If you're not, why should it, actually?" ~Lucille Clifton

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"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science." ~Einstein

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"If you need to visualize the soul, think of it as a cross between a wolf howl, a photon, and a dribble of dark molasses. But what it really is, as near as I can tell, is a packet of information. It's a program, a piece of hyperspatial software designed explicitly to interface with the Mystery. Not a mystery, mind you, THE Mystery.

The one that can never be solved. Data in our psychic program is often nonlinear, nonhierarchical, archaic, alive, and teeming with paradox. Simply booting up is a challenge, if not for no other reason than that most of us find acknowledging the unknowable and monitoring its intrusions upon the familiar and mundane more than a little embarrassing.

More immediately, by waxing soulful you will have granted yourself the possibility of ecstatic participation in what the ancients considered a divinely animated universe. And on a day to day basis, folks, it doesn't get any better than that."

- Tom Robbins, In Literature/Tom Robbins

Floods, Rivers, Swamps and Lakes

The photo above is from 1973 when the Morganza Spillway was opened last.

I live in Louisiana.

I live near a swamp. (Annie's seen it across the street in the woods). I love Louisiana and would never consider living anywhere else. I'm 3 miles from the Red River, less than 2 hours from the Mississippi River and about an hour from the Atchafalaya River. My sister, niece and their families had to evacuate their homes last week in anticipation of the opening of the Morganza Spillway today. My oldest daughter lives near Saline Lake which is already flooding. They're expecting flooding at their farm, too. Me, I'm on high ground and hopefully won't flood.

Please keep the people and wildlife of Central and South Louisiana in your hearts and prayers.

xoxoxo,
Marion

Here's a photo of the Mississippi River taken by a friend who lives in the City last week in New Orleans, already very high:

The Morganza Spillway opening (It was built in 1954 and has only been opened once, in 1973, so this is an historical event) will be streamed live in about one hour from now, at 3:00 p.m. Central Standard Time.

Below is an informative article from today's New York Times:

Morganza Spillway to Be Opened Today

MORGAN CITY, La. — The Army Corps of Engineers was expected to open a spillway near here Saturday afternoon to relieve the pressure bearing down on the levees brought by a Mississippi River that has swollen to epic proportions.

The corps hoped that by opening the Morganza spillway, a gated structure north of Baton Rouge, water from the river would be diverted from New Orleans and other areas downriver. A large area of southern Louisiana would be flooded instead.

At a news conference scheduled for 3:30 p.m. (Eastern time), the New Orleans district commander for the corps, Col. Ed Fleming, will explain the decision. About a half-hour later, the corps will open the spillway.
“It will be a slow, controlled opening,” Ken Holder, a spokesman for the corps told Reuters.

A live video stream from the Morganza spillway has been set up by the corps to show the flooding.

The decision to open the spillway, according to protocol, came from the president of the Mississippi River Commission, Maj. Gen. Michael J. Walsh, directing Colonel Fleming “to be prepared to operate the Morganza Floodway within 24 hours.”

Just about everyone in southern Louisiana had come to expect this decision and had resigned themselves to the bitter but necessary trade-off behind it, though the official word on Friday ended days of uncertainty.

By design, the giant gated structure at Morganza is set to open, at least partly, when the Mississippi River reaches a flow rate of 1.5 million cubic feet per second at the Red River Landing, north of Baton Rouge. In a news release, the corps wrote: “Given current flow rate predictions, which are subject to change, the corps is anticipating opening the floodway to allow for up to 150,000 c.f.s. of water to pass through the structure at peak flow. The spillway will remain open until the river flow falls below 1.5 million c.f.s. and is projected to continue decreasing.”

The number of gates opened at the Morganza depends on how much water would need to be diverted to keep the Mississippi below that trigger flow rate. Allowing 150,000 cubic feet per second to pass through would tax only a fourth of the spillway’s capacity.

The spillway has been opened only once before, in 1973.

The corps will conduct a “slow opening” of the spillway, and once released the water will take days to pour out into the Atchafalaya River basin, filling up marshes, engorging bayous, submerging hundreds of thousands of acres of farmland and seeping into thousands of homes. It will also test the network of federally and locally built levees that wall off towns and small Cajun communities throughout the basin. The water levels in the area will remain high for weeks.

According to maps released by the corps, these areas would be flooded to some degree whether the spillway was opened or not, given the extraordinary amount of water in the system.

There are about 2,500 people in the direct path of the spillway, and around 22,500 others who would be threatened by swollen backwaters. Gov. Bobby Jindal urged people remaining in these areas to begin evacuating.

Those in the spillway’s path were becoming resigned to the decision.
“While we understand the reasoning behind it, it’s still hard to accept,” said Charlene Guidry, 57, who lives on the river in the town of Butte La Rose. “It’s a no-brainer when you look at sacrificing our small community to save New Orleans and Baton Rogue. I’m not angry. I’ve resigned myself. I just hope the government steps up to the plate in a way they didn’t after Katrina.”

Here in Morgan City, a picturesque town of shrimpers and oil workers and the last big stop for the Atchafalaya before it empties into the gulf, all the talk was about river elevations and levees.

At the beginning of the month, said Tim Matte, the mayor, officials had warned that the river would rise to about eight feet, posing a minor problem for shipyards and fuel docks. Now the river was predicted to reach 12 feet, breaking a 38-year-old record, and the lake to swell to the height of some of the city’s levees.

“In 10 days we’ve gone from a minor inconvenience to a flood of historic proportions,” Mr. Matte said, minutes after being told by Senator Mary L. Landrieu’s office that the Morganza was to be opened.

Flood preparations were under way here for what officials estimate will be weeks of flood conditions: Members of the National Guard were constructing 20,000 feet of barriers to fortify and elevate levees along Lake Palourde, which sits on Morgan City’s back step. A barge was being sunk to block off a bayou, sending water out into marshland rather than into populated areas.

Thousands of sandbags were being filled in the hamlet of Stephensville, as residents were leaving for higher ground and debating where to leave their valuables, like one man’s antique-gun collection.

If the levees hold, Morgan City should be fine, people here say. If the levees fail, particularly those along the Atchafalaya, the only option is a full-scale evacuation from the city. “People ask me if I have faith in these levees,” Mr. Matte said. “Well, we wouldn’t live here if we didn’t.”

~Noam Cohen in New York contributed reporting

Mam's Dream Book by Marion

Old bottle of "Evening in Paris"

M'am’s Dream Book
By Marion

M'am had a dream book
of pictures tore from magazines:
fancy, gold-rimmed dishes, flower gardens
and silk dresses that she glued and taped
to dime store paper in a old, beat-up
folder I had from 3rd grade.

It were worn from handling and
the page tops bore the
print of her licked thumb.
It smelled of broken dreams
and Evening in Paris.
M'am’s one extravagance
was that cheap
perfume in a cobalt blue bottle.
She rationed that
stinkin’ horse piss
like it were Shalimar.

When I was a little girl I useta say,
“M'am, when I grow up I’m gonna
buy you a big ole house with a
front and a back porch and a rose
garden.”

I never did, though.
M'am died last year, homeless,
all wore out from hard livin’.
I’ve since learnt that dreams
are for other folks
and not the likes
of M'am and me.

Strange Woman by Jill Essbaum

(Photo of Angelie Jolie's back tattoos. I love, love, love Angelina...)


Strange Woman
By Jill Essbaum
(After Proverbs 7)

She searches the sky for a god who will reach down and love her.
She seeks the arms of a lust that would stretch out to have her.
She shudders like a whore in a rickety chair.
She plaits ribbons of pain in her hair.

She sings unruly songs in strident keys.
Her feet abide in no man’s custody.
She is pity’s shabby bride, and lechery’s courtesan.
Mistress of a never-to-rise-again sun.

She tinctures her wines according to your desires.
In her bed, Hell is always and only fire.
You can set her apart like surfeit, delirious tither.
But no. She won’t be faithful to you either.

But hearken: The Goodman is gone and she will flatter you.
Use her. She will let you.

==============================

Proverbs 7 (New King James Version)

1 My son, keep my words,
And treasure my commands within you.
2 Keep my commands and live,
And my law as the apple of your eye.
3 Bind them on your fingers;
Write them on the tablet of your heart.
4 Say to wisdom, “You are my sister,”
And call understanding your nearest kin,
5 That they may keep you from the immoral woman,
From the seductress who flatters with her words.

The Crafty Harlot

6 For at the window of my house
I looked through my lattice,
7 And saw among the simple,
I perceived among the youths,
A young man devoid of understanding,
8 Passing along the street near her corner;
And he took the path to her house
9 In the twilight, in the evening,
In the black and dark night.
10 And there a woman met him,
With the attire of a harlot, and a crafty heart.
11 She was loud and rebellious,
Her feet would not stay at home.
12 At times she was outside, at times in the open square,
Lurking at every corner.
13 So she caught him and kissed him;
With an impudent face she said to him:
14“ I have peace offerings with me;
Today I have paid my vows.
15 So I came out to meet you,
Diligently to seek your face,
And I have found you.
16 I have spread my bed with tapestry,
Colored coverings of Egyptian linen.
17 I have perfumed my bed
With myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon.
18 Come, let us take our fill of love until morning;
Let us delight ourselves with love.
19 For my husband is not at home;
He has gone on a long journey;
20 He has taken a bag of money with him,
And will come home on the appointed day.”
21 With her enticing speech she caused him to yield,
With her flattering lips she seduced him.
22 Immediately he went after her, as an ox goes to the slaughter,
Or as a fool to the correction of the stocks,
23 Till an arrow struck his liver.
As a bird hastens to the snare,
He did not know it would cost his life.
24 Now therefore, listen to me, my children;
Pay attention to the words of my mouth:
25 Do not let your heart turn aside to her ways,
Do not stray into her paths;
26 For she has cast down many wounded,
And all who were slain by her were strong men.
27 Her house is the way to hell,
Descending to the chambers of death.

From: Biblegateway.com

The Moon by Robert Bly

My own red, luscious, tomato-moon...almost ripe this first day of May.


The Moon
By Robert Bly

After writing poems all day,
I go off to see the moon in the pines.
Far in the woods I sit down against a pine.
The moon has her porches turned to face the light,
But the deep part of her house is in the darkness.

from "Eating the Honey of Words", 1999

State of Wonder by Ann Patchett

I read a LOT of books...several hundred a year, often a book a day. And ever so often I happen upon a book that flows & feels like poetry...and this one does. I didn't think Ms. Patchett could top "The Magician's Assistant" or "The Patron Saint of Liars" as my favorites, but she has. I highly recommend this beautifully crafted story (well, I've loved every single one of her books...if you haven't yet discovered her writing, I highly recommend her.) This one comes out June 7, 2011.

One of my favorite quotes:

"Instead of growing up inquisitive and restless, she had developed a profound desire to stay, as if her center of gravity was so low it connected her directly to this particular patch of earth." Page 45

Happy Reading,
Marion