The Writer's Poke

"We couldn't have done it without a dual income." -- Carl Smith Can you imagine making money from dueling ? I think that's probably even better than earning a wage from playing Russian roulette. Granted, "dual" and "duel" are homonyms, but a lot of words share the same letter sequence and hold quite different meanings. There must be literally hundreds of these dual words, and here are just six off the top of my head: match, spring, fall, quarter, stroke, wave. And I bet it wouldn't take you very long to brainstorm another hundred or more. In context, you can determine the right meaning of the word being referenced; and it's true that you can easily figure out that a word might change meaning depending on whether it's being used as a verb or a noun, etc. But still, it's fun to visualize the wrong use of the word, and think about how it totally changes the intended meaning of the sentence. Makes you feel sorry for all of the people tr...

I stumbled across "Antoine and Colette," which is an interesting French short film from the early 1960s. Shot in black and white, it's the story of a young boy infatuated with a hot chick. Towards the end of the film, he lays it all out for her: Let's set things straight, he tells her. Just don't lead me on. Of course she hasn't been leading him on whatsoever. She doesn't mind if he hangs around, but if she has something she'd rather be doing, or other people she'd rather be with, she makes it quite clear that he is not the first priority in her life. As it turns out, her parents are much more "in love" with him than she is. They see in him a nice boy, but that's probably all that Colette sees in him too. And by film's end, her parents have invited him to supper, but then there's a knock on the door and a new man has arrived to take Colette out for a date. Antoine is left to watch TV with the parents. Awkward? Uh, yeah... The...

I like the Sir Mix-a-lot mash-up better, but this one with Nine Inch Nails is worth watching, too.

So we've been talking a lot about rain on facebook today... This next video has nothing to do with rain, but I found it while doing a rain video search, and it's just about the most brilliant thing I've ever seen. Tell me you don't agree?

It's been raining a lot lately, and so needless to say, some people have been getting tired of it. But you know, there are a lot of good songs with rain as a theme. Here are a few that come to mind: Red Rain -- Peter Gabriel Purple Rain -- Prince Another Rainy Night (Without You) -- Queensryche Blame It on the Rain -- Milli Vanilli And here's a website that has cataloged over 800 more. http://www.lacarte.org/songs/rain/ So, what's your favorite rain song?

This is something to think about long and hard, my droogies .

I've never witnessed a miracle, and I bet you haven't, either. Miracle is one of those terms we sometimes use rather loosely. We talk, for instance, about the "miracle of birth." Certainly the birth of a child can fill us with wonder, which relates to the Latin origin of the term, but based on the current world population, I'm not sure that childbirth can by any means qualify as extraordinary. Is experiencing the universe an extraordinary event? Now I can go along with that, but I like my miracles to be more personal, more specific. You know, like the Catholic church's requirement that a person perform three miracles to be eligible for sainthood. In that case, the mere fact that the universe happens to exist would then no longer qualify as a miracle. Experiencing natural existence isn't enough. A miracle would be more like David Copperfield making the Empire State Building disappear, or Jesus feeding the masses with a few fish and loaves of bread. And tha...

Is it possible not to have anything worth writing about? Two of the main tools all writers have at their disposal are memory and imagination. So how does one imagine? How does one remember? Is the process the same? Are memories real? Are images created solely in the mind any less real? Perhaps memories are an old person's game. In theory, the older you are, the more memories you should have accumulated. But do memories stay true, or do they cross over into the realm of imagination? I think I know what I was like thirty years ago, for example, but do I really? Can I trust my memory? Has my imagination polluted what I know? Some people claim not to have much of an imagination. Perhaps these people have never taken the time to sit, meditate, and listen. Everyone imagines, just as everyone dreams. Some are simply more aware and in tune. Which do you rely on most: memory or imagination? "I shut my eyes in order to see." -- Paul Gauguin

Greg talked about how much he was enjoying his new XM radio. It made his long commute to work enjoyable, and it allowed him to explore music that he might never have listened to otherwise. One such channel was 80s Hair Metal. He cranked up the volume, and his car transformed into a time machine, sending him back to his high school glory days. Skid Row, Whitesnake, Winger -- they were all here. And while Greg wasn't a big fan of any of these groups back in the day, he admitted that he found comfort into listening to them now. For most of the 1990s, it was taboo to admit any fondness for Hair Metal. If you told someone that you liked Poison, for example, they would most likely pat you on the head while wearing a look of sympathy on their faces. But now, admitting to and embracing your musical past is acceptable. Charming even. Hell, they even play all the old anthems on VH-1 classics. In 2001, Chuck Klosterman published Fargo Rock City . In this book, Klosterman damns hair metal whil...

I crossed a psychological barrier turning 30. Age is just a number, right? Well, it sure didn't feel that way at the time. When I was 29 I was still in school, and I couldn't imagine entering my 30s in that condition. To that point, I'd never made more than $20,000 in a year, and my life wasn't full of material stuff. I had sacrificed my 20s for knowledge, and I had no worldly possessions to show for it. So while I didn't technically drop out of school, I did seek a real job for the first time. But even still, I wasn't happy about it. Yes, I was now making a living wage, and yes, I would now be able to accumulate stuff, but ironically I also felt like a sell out. To a certain extent, I acknowledged to myself that I needed to sell out. I couldn't stay in college forever, could I? Not as a student, anyway. Truth be told, I was at the point in my life that I needed to leave the academic nest of graduate school. But then what did I do for a career? I became a te...

Seems like a pretty good deal to me.

Funny, isn't it?

To my loyal readers: I'm not blogged out, but I am shifting my energies to other writing endeavors. That's why I haven't posted much lately. At the moment, I'm working on a new novel. And like Hemingway, I believe it's best that I don't write or say too much about it while "in process." Some time soon, I will also begin the process of revising the "pokes." Please do keep checking back. I might not have new pokes for you, but the blog will continue, I promise.

I like poetry, although I think about 99% of it is probably crap. To me, poetry must marry the beauty of language with the power of story. Poetry that simply hides meaning behind complexities... who needs it? People love language, of this I am convinced. So why don't more people read poetry? Simple: most poetry is written by poets for other poets. In other words, most poets have purposely limited their audience. Those poets that wrote for a general audience, Robert Frost and Maya Angelou come to mind, are not considered to be among the "elite poets," at least by poetry snobs. Real poems evoke real emotions. Take Theordore Roethke's "My Papa's Waltz" or Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night" or Sylvia Plath's "Daddy." If you've taken an English class or two in high school or college, I'm sure you've read these poems; but even if you have, why not go back and read them again? Do you ever write in a w...

Some people in my neighborhood have one of those invisible fences for their dog; I'd probably never have noticed the "fence" if it weren't for the accompanying "Dog in Training" sign. Dog in training, I thought. What an interesting concept. It reminded me of the old fashioned finishing schools for young debutantes. Do puppies really need to learn how to become dogs? Doesn't the process happen naturally? And then I thought: What does it mean to be a certified dog? Drawing connections from the sign, it would indicate that a dog learns its territory. It learns to accept a fence that it cannot see. It conforms to what its master wants it to be: well-mannered and restrained. In other words, it learns to become something other than its nature. How has the influence of family, friends, or society "trained" you? Do you have any idea who you might be without outside influence? In other words, has your "essence" been altered? "We are stran...

Compromise isn't a dirty word. And as I've noted in a previous poke, sometimes "good" is good enough. So perhaps it's a sign of maturity to accept a life that doesn't meet all of your dreams? Perhaps settling is a sign that you've accepted the reality of life's "wake up call." And perhaps settling is one of those psychological stages of life. It's been a while since I've studied psychology in any regimented way, but I do recall a stage called "acceptance," and maybe acceptance is a synonym for settle? Acceptance also indicates an acknowledgment that we're powerless to change our circumstance. It's the last stage before death, for example -- and not just physical, but also mental and spiritual. But damn it all to hell, I'm not dead yet. How can you avoid settling for less than what you need? "Once we accept our limitations, we go beyond them." -- Brendan Francis

I suppose it's inevitable. When you go over the same ideas again and again, they become rather cliched. Their meaning and value, assumed, never questioned. In the forward to The Best American Spiritual Writing 2008 , editor Philip Zaleski claims, "Everyone recognizes the figure of the religious hypocrite, mouthing prayers or offering devotions with no attention to inner meaning." Is it fair to call such people hypocrites? I would prefer to call them victims. When you've been told your whole life that the Son of God (who is actually God -- or a part of God -- himself) gave up his human life to forgive the sins of humanity, is it hypocritical to act as though you possibly can understand what this means? A few lines later, Zaleski seems to acknowledge that even the "average schlep in the pews, ignorant of theology and innocent of mysticism, praying with half his mind on his girlfriend or his gold game, has nevertheless amassed, week by week and year by year, a bank...

We walked into the shop and were overcome by the intense smell of incense. Dragon statues, pentagrams, herbs, and other stereotypically-wiccan paraphernalia were visible wherever the eye landed. But visible only in dim shadows as the outer windows of the store were covered with thick black drapes, and there weren't any florescent bulbs being used inside. The light seemed somehow organic, as though not coming from any discernible source. My friends quickly tired of this store, but I found it compulsively fascinating. When they left to explore the next shop down the street, I stayed to talk to the shop mistress working behind the counter. She looked 16, but I'm sure she was in her mid-twenties. Her hair was jet black, her skin was pale, and the the inverted star necklace she wore around her neck was not an accessory common seen in central Illinois. Around the corner and mostly out of sight was a man much older than her. I could sense that he was keeping watch over his "prope...

Hard to believe, but it's been 25 years since I made my one and only pilgrimage to the Mecca for Chicago Cubs fans, Wrigley Field. To this day, I can still name more Cubbies from that season's squad than I can for all subsequent squads combined. The Cubs have had good teams since 1984, but perhaps this team stands out in my memory because it was the first good Cubs team in my lifetime. As yet another baseball season begins, I doubt that I'll much care after opening day. Something about the first game of the season seems so vitally important, for about a second. Then, the realization soon kicks in that these guys will be playing another 160 games over the next six months. How much importance can any one game have in such a long season? Some time in July, right around All-Star Break, I'll probably check in to see how the Cubs are doing. As long as they are ahead of the St. Louis Cardinals, I won't much care if they're in first- or next-to-last place. If they someh...