It’s not actually a revolutionary idea to suggest Tolkien is a modernist, but it’s still so counter to everything he said and tried to do that it’s worth blogging about. And, anyway, today was the Autumnal Equinox — or the Evenlength, if you like words derived from Middle English (ȝevelengðhe). It’s also Bilbo and Frodo Baggins’s birthday, so I started re-reading The Lord of the Rings. As one does. And I was reminded of the whole modernist thing by his poetry of all things.
Steven Universe — the character — fails sometimes, but always learns from it and improves himself. That’s not the kind of failure I want to talk about. I find it really fascinating that the show has a character who would be labeled “a failure” in any other story and not only are they not the butt of jokes, they’re one of the most supportive, well-balanced characters. Let’s talk about Greg.
What follows is a transcription of the picture above. In the best sort of magical exploratory way, I wrote through a difficulty contextualizing the Christian figure of Christ in magic. Most deities are specific in their roles. Christ is less so.
“Level seven” because it’s kind of funny (get it? Macross Seven? Get it, I’m hilarious?), but also because I’m certainly not a level 20 Macross Mage. The whole concept of this post is to weigh in on Macross without the sort of EXP others who have been blogging about it have.
I’ve been struggling for years to get back into writing creative stuff — by that I mean poetry, fiction, so on. A friend once said I was one of the most prolific writers he knew, even though he is the most prolific writer I know. I tell you that to tell you this: since I finished my MFA I have completed maybe three short stories, and no poems. Or rather, every so often I will write a poem in the margin of a book or in a journal, but I never consider making it public in some way. This blog post serves as a companion, a non-fiction piece accompanying this poem. You should read it, but you can read this post first if you’d prefer. Or the poem. There’s no set order or anything, is what I’m saying.
Being convinced I play in Memphis.
Therapy -> equations in a computer.
Wife, friend, become a computer.
I knew how he felt about my birthday.
College campus as my own mind.
Gabriel Pomerand -> equations in the answers written here,
this journal this morning – Dad proud of mourning.
A game played in Florence, not Lexington.
The fear of a friend for shooting the two inch hole between rooms.
Wife still in bed as in a blind catechism, unheard unfelt.
Art, equations in Memphis.
Absolute certainty on these roads.
I came back to the fictional.
“Now, that song!”
Moon in Vietnam.
Attempt to write here, this journal this pen, a plastic bag.
The old 50s “atomic” sign.
I ended up memories apurpose.
There is a companion post to this poem here.
Isn’t this the weirdest line in a song? It’s off Dark Side of the Moon, naturally, and it comes right near the beginning. It’s unexpected for a speaker, and one who’s proving himself good at it, to dwindle down into quietude as he says he thought there was more to it than this.
The line’s followed by the release of tense energy that’s been underlying the song so far. No more lyrics follow, only bombastic music.
But eventually that dies down as well. What we get instead is the first of the spoken word recordings the band made by roaming the recording studio and asking questions. It’s the famous claim that the speaker isn’t afraid of death.
And after that? The inarticulate singing of a woman who has not appeared as of yet, seguing eventually into quiet sound.
The album’s over, right? Well, no. The next track is “Money.” Damn. That’s what it’s like to be silenced, then…
Let’s do another anime post, those are fun and relevant to my interests. TheKittyMeister and I continue to watch a lot of anime, partly because, well, I’m paying for Crunchyroll, we should probably use it. And so we watched Denki-Gai. My relationship with slice-of-life is rocky, at best, but I quite like a lot of them. So this one’s got me thinking about why.