Ramblings – The Jake of All Trades

A Winter Evening Reflection

It is evening and I am thinking about moving my Fediverse server for posts/microblogs/thingys. It is late in the year and I am thinking about all sorts of server things, from updates, to shut downs to moving away from WordPress, to staying with WordPress.

It is late in the year and I am thinking. Thinking. December is somehow a good time for thinking, planning, wondering if the next few months should be different, wondering if in the next few months I should be different.

Always words like “should” creep into these thoughts, teetering on the edge of regret as the years, and December thoughts, accumulate.

But what is a “should” but a “could” that choose otherwise?

In these December thoughts, when I worry about what new URL to call my Sharkkey instance, whether I still need all the URLs I own, and if I should finally give Ghost an honest go, there is something else there, a desire to change, not because who I am, but because of who I sometimes wish I was.

Could be. Not Should be.

I should be in bed. And I will be soon. The sun sleeps so much these days, it is easy to join it, to linger in the morning under covers and fall under them in the evening as light fades out for the day.

With that light, let the “should”s fade as well. It is, most of all, a time for kindness to the one person who needs it. Yourself.

On Poetry In Times Like These

You’ll find countless articles and memes and inspirational posts telling you that it is times like these that need poetry more than anything.

And it is times like these where I need poetry more than anything. To find myself lost in language, swimming in the sounds and nuances of words, patterns, orders and all.

To make a line or two that sings, so that there is more song in the air.

And yet. It is times like these that make me silent.

It is spring in the northern hemisphere and I have no doubt there are flowers blooming near Kiev, in spite of everything. Perhaps to spite everything, to show the world that spring has come again.

And yet who am I to write poetry about the flowers in Ukraine?

And yet, are the flowers in my yard, reaching for the sky any less worthy of poetry?

The weight of the outside bears down on the pen, the weight of the news, of the struggles from January to the present cannot be sung away. They must be sung about, sung to. Lifted up high to the light.

I’ve said before, that it is not “write what you know” it is “speak for yourself” and myself is wanting to get lost in a spring garden.

It is a post about guilt? How could it not be. How dare I lament my poetic silence when there are real issues, real problems, real poets facing them, out there.

How dare I want to write about the fireflies instead of the flares falling, instead of the darkness of an El Salvadorian cell, instead of love and identity endangered even if it hasn’t yet been found. Especially if it has not yet been found.

How dare I be safe at a time like this, safe enough to lament not being able to write poetry without guilt.

How dare I write a self serving blog post about it.

Sigh.

Times like these make poets, they forge poetry in fire, blood, in the flowers that grow from the ruins left in the wake of time.

But who am I to pretend to be one of them.

Also, trans rights are human rights. Fuck terfs.

Baby, There’s a Bull Outside

When I think of the song “Baby, it’s Cold Outside” I also often think of the bull on wall street.

The Charging Bull of Wall Street is a 7,000 lbs bronze statue that was installed in the middle of the night without permission, raging against the crash of 1987. It was to represent “the courage and the willpower of Americans against the greed of Wall Street¹.”

Then Fearless Girl showed up in March of 2017 and completely changed the meaning of the piece. Now the bull wasn’t the oppressed, but the oppressor. Now the American people, the American future, was represented by a child, standing her ground against it, unflinching.

The Bull’s artist, Di Modica, was not happy. The placement of the girl had changed the meaning of his work².

There is a very interesting discussion there about art and boundaries. Can one change the meaning of another’s work? What is the right, the responsibility, of one artist who makes a piece that connects to another and changes completely the original artist’s intent?

And yet, with “Baby it’s Cold Outside” that’s exactly what Time itself has done. Yes, there is much discussion about the origins, which are progressive and feminist. The fact that the two singers are in harmony is also a huge part as well. This isn’t a single phrase, nor just dialogue, but a song, and all parts work together.

But that doesn’t change what Time has done to the phrase “…what’s in this drink?” Once a playful joke, is now a very real danger faced by millions of women. The man who doesn’t take no for an answer. The decision between the snow and the sleepover. All of these things ring to a different sound now.

Which makes the analogy to the Bull and to the drink complete. If you view the Bull alone, as raging against the greed of 1987, it will look different than if you stand back and see the Fearless Girl standing defiantly in front of it.

“Baby it’s Cold Outside” is both progressive and problematic, based more on where you are standing than anything else.

So like it. Or don’t. Just make sure you look at the whole picture first.