September 25, 2008

nature is so

Posted in movies tagged , at 9:58 am by placeinthestars

RB and I went to see Burn After Reading last night. I enjoyed it – Brad Pitt is hilariously fantastic in it, as is John Malkovich – but I thought the pacing was slow and odd.

We went to dinner first, to the place we usually go, and there was a roach on the table next to us. Which, normally, I’d have gotten up and left, but the allergy medication I’m taking makes me all queasy if I don’t eat, so we stayed. It really put a damper on dinner, though. And the wait staff was completely non-apologetic about it, which I think was the worst part. We called a busboy over and he killed the roach with a rag, but nobody came over to wash the table down or reset it, and I really hope they didn’t use that rag for anything else last night.




September 17, 2008

Black Petal

Posted in poetry tagged , at 10:47 am by placeinthestars

Black Petal
by Li-Young Lee

I never claimed night fathered me.
that was my dead brother talking in his sleep.
I keep him under my pillow, a dear wish
that colors my laughing and crying.

I never said the wind, remembering nothing,
leaves so many rooms unaccounted for,
continual farewell must ransom
the unmistakable fragrance
our human days afford.

It was my brother, little candle in the pulpit,
reading out loud to all of earth
from the book of night.

He died too young to learn his name.
Now he answers to Vacant Boat,
Burning Wing, My Black Petal.

Ask him who his mother is. He’ll declare the birds
have eaten the path home, but each of us
joins night’s ongoing story
wherever night overtakes him,
the heart astonished to find belonging
and thanks answering thanks.

Ask if he’s hungry or thirsty,
he’ll say he’s the bread come to pass
and draw you a map
to the twelve secret hips of honey.

Does someone want to know the way to spring?
He’ll remind you
the flower was never meant to survive
the fruit’s triumph.

He says an apple’s most secret cargo
is the enduring odor of a human childhood,
our mother’s linen pressed and stored, our father’s voice
walking through the rooms.

He says he’s forgiven our sister
for playing dead and making him cry
those afternoons we were left alone in the house.

And when clocks frighten me with their long hair,
and when I spy the wind’s numerous hands
in the orchard unfastening
first the petals from the buds,
then the perfume from the flesh,

my dead brother ministers to me. His voice
weighs nothing
but the far years between
stars in their massive dying,

and I grow quiet hearing
how many of both of our tomorrows
lie waiting inside it to be born.


September 1, 2008

i know it’s not right

Posted in movies tagged , at 10:08 pm by placeinthestars

I watched Inside Man, which I quite liked. I mean, what’s not to like? Denzel! Jodie! Clive Owen! the dude from Serenity whose name I can’t spell! Christopher Plummer! It was very clever. What I really liked about it was that the people in it felt like New Yorkers, which is probably partially because it was filmed in New York and directed by Spike Lee. I also really liked Denzel’s hat, which made me think of Frank Pembleton, and that is never a bad association for a detective to make in my mind.