tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11573428430026123882024-03-06T02:09:48.356-06:00A Building Roam<a href="http://www.abuildingroam.com/search/label/Sports">Sports</a>, <a href="http://www.abuildingroam.com/search/label/music">Music</a>, <a href="http://www.abuildingroam.com/search/label/literature">Literature</a>, and <a href="http://www.abuildingroam.com/search/label/random">more</a>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.comBlogger449125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-23244085456078615992023-12-30T23:09:00.007-06:002024-01-05T12:33:03.061-06:00Six of My Favorite Experiences of 2023<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCS3MN4Edr-OHi8uuzJ5BlcRlACK_MuVJ9Ep7x-glcsjmXYjr2qqC2rq4U2flVfadKzyf8x11FHUz39X7HdeOEryj9wBfXHyYuHdAhLVqXjExr4sJtbTjl5YKpvqO2oOVELaRKnOp97d0Y6pv5phbu1NLD4upyHONOaG8f03NWMSZPscTgpJma_LdPVUM/s2048/AFBA8B40-6DCA-490E-8DF5-AA77FA3BCAEE_1_102_o.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCS3MN4Edr-OHi8uuzJ5BlcRlACK_MuVJ9Ep7x-glcsjmXYjr2qqC2rq4U2flVfadKzyf8x11FHUz39X7HdeOEryj9wBfXHyYuHdAhLVqXjExr4sJtbTjl5YKpvqO2oOVELaRKnOp97d0Y6pv5phbu1NLD4upyHONOaG8f03NWMSZPscTgpJma_LdPVUM/w300-h400/AFBA8B40-6DCA-490E-8DF5-AA77FA3BCAEE_1_102_o.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Natural Bridge, Virginia</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Great, bright portal,<br /></b><b>shelf of rock,<br /></b><b>rocks fitted in long ledges<br /></b>[...]</p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>The world heaved—<br />we are next to the sky</b><br />- H.D. <br />from <i>The Cliff Temple</i></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p><b>Natural Bridge State Park, Virginia<br /></b>Hard to pick my favorite aspect of this incredible geological portal; from the awe-inspiring view of the giant rock arch, the shades of the rock layers inside the cave, the ecosystem created in the creek around the rock structure, etc etc. There are trees there which only grow in colder environments farther north, not normally in this region, yet which thrive around the Natural Bridge area because of its cooler air provided by the shade. A tree trunk of a cedar tree there was 1,600 years old. The archway is just so massively epic in itself, though. </p><p> The <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natural_Bridge_(Virginia)" target="_blank">rock arch</a> was a sacred site for the indigenous Monacan tribe, the place of a major battle victory over the Powhatan tribe. Thomas Jefferson, who called Natural Bridge the "most Sublime of Nature's works" acquired the rights to the land in 1774 for a small sum. As a young surveyor, George Washington is said to have surveyed the Natural Bridge site in 1750, carving his initials into nearby rocks. The site was also immortalized in Herman Melville's <i>Moby-Dick</i>, when the giant whale is described in chapter 133: "But soon the forepart of him slowly rose from the water; for an instant his whole marbleized body formed a high arch, like Virginia's Natural Bridge..." The lore around this place is interesting, the views of the limestone tree-trunk-looking textures of the outer layer astound the eye, but the vibes felt being there under the rock arch, that was a noticeably powerful grounding and centering sensation. And yet, my favorite part might have been the shades on the inner rockface, a molten stillness that I found very pleasing to stare at. <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zBGDLri83ijxgEj0jEtbibPMoLDjbEZ21LNSPnAvS4lmMURYplzi_0bKZ2-b_TXPklnymxaNMN5L6b5eXy7jDhCT9-HKo5chy6ds4S2q6UdvcAwcoAWhRvFj4hJ7z2AJ3BXXEUUz6KCHjfljdZadXTOzw71KQ8ebVviXMYLW-19AMqsM-JyhuIVdLzE/s1024/Natural%20Bridge%20RockFace.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zBGDLri83ijxgEj0jEtbibPMoLDjbEZ21LNSPnAvS4lmMURYplzi_0bKZ2-b_TXPklnymxaNMN5L6b5eXy7jDhCT9-HKo5chy6ds4S2q6UdvcAwcoAWhRvFj4hJ7z2AJ3BXXEUUz6KCHjfljdZadXTOzw71KQ8ebVviXMYLW-19AMqsM-JyhuIVdLzE/w400-h300/Natural%20Bridge%20RockFace.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><b>The Great Buddha of Kamakura, Japan</b><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHZ1jwF7IBECFKzxNfH5Mkz-S0JVYNnWO_QEPMXOugrcf6S1RFdqE19m7FeuWK6QhFHOQ9Cf1OEgOoeNwR5aSLQr1PMEf2toIZhjINxmVCbnyPL3-73n9jw1iQlEZ3vxJSfha6UN5hZbwRwblehnPK1EKQ4H-lOjw2WDl1K591a6-teYVjxHH2UC7e0G8/s773/9D0D33D0-CE66-47DD-831B-A63836466989_1_105_c.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="773" data-original-width="702" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHZ1jwF7IBECFKzxNfH5Mkz-S0JVYNnWO_QEPMXOugrcf6S1RFdqE19m7FeuWK6QhFHOQ9Cf1OEgOoeNwR5aSLQr1PMEf2toIZhjINxmVCbnyPL3-73n9jw1iQlEZ3vxJSfha6UN5hZbwRwblehnPK1EKQ4H-lOjw2WDl1K591a6-teYVjxHH2UC7e0G8/w364-h400/9D0D33D0-CE66-47DD-831B-A63836466989_1_105_c.jpeg" width="364" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p>This giant bronze Buddha statue on a hillside in Kamakura, Japan was originally built around the year 1252. Being there I felt reverence and peace. Amazing to appreciate the craft of this bronze equipoised Buddha, which was once gilded and covered by a temple hall but has stood in the open air since about 1498 after storms and tsunamis. The Buddha seated in lotus position holds such a grounded harmony in his being, akin to the hills and trees adjacent to him, he's been there helping humans on the path toward nirvana thru many cycles of time, survived many destructive events. It's a sanctuary of sereneness and contemplation that I was grateful to experience firsthand. I really enjoyed the Kamakura and Zushi regions of Japan. </p><p><br /></p><p><b>El Nido, Philippines</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7DOgzZ3AiHNKoCgOV8Wltm-Z7-h4NT4BtJ_il_9a-ao6QeiBKLslhGQggIiVQFyA4M6Ya3nWy-it7udL-WzjsWJZ_B2TQIzgGqHY_F3F1ZbHLFM-arlh-NJl5P51i_nBJdcxkza93qsnAW8UGGMv89P8YNygorBpIbvvvwh0dmx-ZBOXNqwDU48zGpQ/s1024/EL%20NIDO%201.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="769" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7DOgzZ3AiHNKoCgOV8Wltm-Z7-h4NT4BtJ_il_9a-ao6QeiBKLslhGQggIiVQFyA4M6Ya3nWy-it7udL-WzjsWJZ_B2TQIzgGqHY_F3F1ZbHLFM-arlh-NJl5P51i_nBJdcxkza93qsnAW8UGGMv89P8YNygorBpIbvvvwh0dmx-ZBOXNqwDU48zGpQ/w400-h300/EL%20NIDO%201.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>El Nido limestone cliffs with shades of light at different hours of the day.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Tm-xadR1cHj4ZNdSNR2qYCLAKPLxXCgwAOpFzYr2GqVMOXgOeOTEoncJBeGq8HZvOmKEjkS7cUJO8UFgiEsLS3dxAe_dGfphkWdMC36JmJ4KgRUrqmf_JI7Avt7Iv-VrJP4OIt4WRfvgQYnSx67SDvvB_5ad8CCuWodazpnnRzVAXH8UkuAQNe83BBo/s1024/EL%20NIDO%202.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="769" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Tm-xadR1cHj4ZNdSNR2qYCLAKPLxXCgwAOpFzYr2GqVMOXgOeOTEoncJBeGq8HZvOmKEjkS7cUJO8UFgiEsLS3dxAe_dGfphkWdMC36JmJ4KgRUrqmf_JI7Avt7Iv-VrJP4OIt4WRfvgQYnSx67SDvvB_5ad8CCuWodazpnnRzVAXH8UkuAQNe83BBo/w400-h300/EL%20NIDO%202.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p>To see a scene from up high on a hill showing a broad seascape pocked with dozens of these tall limestone cliff islets, that was an immaculate life moment. Pure bliss. These exotic tropical Pacific isles are inviting and embracing. Looking out at this view one morning I saw a Great hornbill float over to a tree branch. I saw monkeys. Experienced the glorious simplicity of island life in El Nido, Philippines. Friendly people, fantastic fresh food. It's a wonderful place in what feels like the far edge of the world. </p><p><br /></p><p><b>Anthony Chapel, Garvan Woodland Gardens in Hot Springs, AR</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeWlwxZN5zZHT9FLLRKjXZezpgDWEwpRjW18avWyfATZnSX7XC6J14ZS76Ab5_6HXO4Q2_BStavc11XaRbOsF_9Zn3tqlXFBtLkjPFz2xpqL5h7teYMjBd-p7oUlZDHUH81kY50lsRh0Q1UUxQtgxuBy-uKJV1qICAtD0dVX-THbmlLuF1DHnRUfOETqU/s1024/B5CD549A-B7E9-49CC-A79B-5620611DB542_1_105_c.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="769" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeWlwxZN5zZHT9FLLRKjXZezpgDWEwpRjW18avWyfATZnSX7XC6J14ZS76Ab5_6HXO4Q2_BStavc11XaRbOsF_9Zn3tqlXFBtLkjPFz2xpqL5h7teYMjBd-p7oUlZDHUH81kY50lsRh0Q1UUxQtgxuBy-uKJV1qICAtD0dVX-THbmlLuF1DHnRUfOETqU/w300-h400/B5CD549A-B7E9-49CC-A79B-5620611DB542_1_105_c.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><p>I found this most impressive chapel in a forest of the Ouachita Mountains in Hot Springs, Arkansas. The structure made mostly of glass and wood panels evoked the surrounding trees. The view from the altar inside looking out, embedded in lush forest looking down a hill toward a lake, makes this a place like no other. </p><p><br /></p><p><b>Prehistoric shark teeth fossils in Sherman, TX</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxlrzSRpCqdO6NZSOM9GEezDrxdo7yf70iHorINyRExd4UiURPU_ijmfW1b4P775hN91fPowlf89aj5Ei1jIaykBw0UHrjdIrCyWlxcuADy7jw_BKQMHZbrfRopAG1th1f_57CfD0MfqXmuL9KKBtWnzsAarNfv2bqFCwT0V9agOAz7wCUvS_0TOce_H0/s897/SHARK%20TEETH.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="897" data-original-width="731" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxlrzSRpCqdO6NZSOM9GEezDrxdo7yf70iHorINyRExd4UiURPU_ijmfW1b4P775hN91fPowlf89aj5Ei1jIaykBw0UHrjdIrCyWlxcuADy7jw_BKQMHZbrfRopAG1th1f_57CfD0MfqXmuL9KKBtWnzsAarNfv2bqFCwT0V9agOAz7wCUvS_0TOce_H0/w326-h400/SHARK%20TEETH.jpeg" width="326" /></a></div><p>In a small town in north Texas, you can find fossilized prehistoric shark teeth, dating back millennia when a shallow sea covered Texas and central North America, during the Cretaceous period more than 140 million years ago. Sifting thru silt and mud in a riverbed, yielding treasures of shark teeth from so long ago, was incredibly gratifying. I examine these fossilized shark teeth, trying to wrap my mind around the vast expanding scales of deep history these ancient shark* remains would be lingering from. Unfathomable spans of time, and yet the shark teeth are so damn sharp, so damn real, so obviously shark teeth, in a place where there are today definitively NO SHARKS anywhere nearby to be found, deep in the heart of north central Texas. Yet here you can find and tangibly connect with unique relics from many worlds ago. </p><p></p><p>(*Cretaceous era sand shark <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scapanorhynchus" target="_blank"><i>Scapanorhynchus</i></a>, early relative of today's goblin shark.)</p><p><br /></p><p><b>Dinosaur footprint tracks in Canyon Lake, TX</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgF-55mrL4i6GqVWPSyFNPuT5OVFr5Hr0bwxZ-4HoyuBhbetu1RCcj_xP88Sba2EfNRiyY1mOwvvKcAJ6iAFRQvMfPC40I8VzdpRosHdHoR5xLy3v_rwlObwz9jKFwh4TlFxXXsRiX4yKx0WyAnVWVTAWEuWaaUMQunCTulOGOJk1C_nCORlUmqWdg-5w/s2048/Dinosaur1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgF-55mrL4i6GqVWPSyFNPuT5OVFr5Hr0bwxZ-4HoyuBhbetu1RCcj_xP88Sba2EfNRiyY1mOwvvKcAJ6iAFRQvMfPC40I8VzdpRosHdHoR5xLy3v_rwlObwz9jKFwh4TlFxXXsRiX4yKx0WyAnVWVTAWEuWaaUMQunCTulOGOJk1C_nCORlUmqWdg-5w/w300-h400/Dinosaur1.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixc7YQt0qWmTGheT7vNs6GHR507wacYGv6Cq2TxLSWmPO1uo0xb6MdQx29_8ZHG7M5C3yIrmBO4VuMeiHZCkrjEalUrqUsX2EumcNcYpElMUAKR3LuMrgu0swHxYWaOye76jHpUZldRyFHWmZsCXqrc_5uHAsz4aQI2LAuk77jRRnoUb-HFcwBnheHKGw/s963/0C1C9125-5AE7-49C8-88E4-30685D42F2F2_1_105_c.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="515" data-original-width="963" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixc7YQt0qWmTGheT7vNs6GHR507wacYGv6Cq2TxLSWmPO1uo0xb6MdQx29_8ZHG7M5C3yIrmBO4VuMeiHZCkrjEalUrqUsX2EumcNcYpElMUAKR3LuMrgu0swHxYWaOye76jHpUZldRyFHWmZsCXqrc_5uHAsz4aQI2LAuk77jRRnoUb-HFcwBnheHKGw/w400-h214/0C1C9125-5AE7-49C8-88E4-30685D42F2F2_1_105_c.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>This was an impromptu, spur of the moment discovery that ended up being so completely and utterly mind-blowing. So hard to believe it's real. So much evoked from these footprints, the stories astound. Dinosaur tracks, indicative of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iguanodon" target="_blank"><i>Iguanadons</i></a> walking along a silty coastline during what would have been the Early Cretaceous period 100 million years ago. The large herbivores were being followed by a pursuing apex predator <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acrocanthosaurus" target="_blank"><i>Acrocanthosaurus</i></a>, eyeing the tracks and gripping the ground with its sharp claws while carrying over five tons of bodyweight running at speeds up to 20 mph. All of this evinced by the very obvious sets of tracks imprinted on the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glen_Rose_Formation" target="_blank">Glen Rose Formation</a> rock layer exposed at a ranch in Texas hill country. </p></div>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-77112322281610047692023-10-11T12:03:00.006-05:002023-10-12T10:51:57.745-05:00Rainouts: 2023 Baseball Journal, Part 1<p>QUEENS, NY---Late September, in the final week of their disappointing season, the 2023 New York Mets were involved in some extremely unusual rainstorm-related shenanigans at Citi Field. First, after their grounds crew neglected to <a href="https://news.yahoo.com/mets-owner-steve-cohen-apologizes-213349884.html" target="_blank">cover up the field</a> during a tropical storm, the waterlogged playing surface didn't dry off in time for their next game and the grounds crew couldn't manage to get the field ready to play, thus forcing them to postpone their Sept 26th series opener against the Miami Marlins <i>on a day when it didn't even rain</i>. Two days later, in the final game of that series, with the Mets clinging to a 1-0 lead in the 9th inning, the Marlins knocked in 2 runs to take a 2-1 lead, but the umpires suddenly stopped the game in the top of the 9th because of heavy rainfall. The two teams waited out the storm deep into the night before giving up any chance of resuming play. Miami, fighting for a playoff spot, had to go play their final series in Pittsburgh unsure of whether or not they'd be required to go back to New York after the final day of the regular season to play out the final inning of their last game against the Mets. The Marlins ended up clinching a playoff spot (thanks to a collapse by the Cubs) and the suspended game against the Mets was deemed unnecessary to finish on the field. And so, by a weird quirk in the rulebook, the events of the top of the 9th inning were <a href="https://www.espn.com/mlb/story/_/id/38565458/mets-awarded-1-0-win-marlins-suspended-game" target="_blank">erased from the record books</a>, and the score reverted back to 1-0 Mets where it stood at the end of the 8th inning. A truly bizarre way to wrap up the Mets season with their 75th win. <br /><br />***</p><p>QUEENS, NY--- Late in July, I am driving thru Brooklyn into Queens to pick up my brother at JFK airport on a rainy night. The sky is thunderous and heavy winds and flash flooding are making the drive on the Belt Parkway more hectic and chaotic than usual. The 2023 Mets' hopes for playoff contention have dwindled, they're once again playing from behind, battling back in a game against the Washington Nationals at nearby Citi Field. Trailing 1-0 in the 8th inning, the Mets scratch together a run to tie the game before storm clouds move in, flashes of lightning, strong winds, and torrential rain force the game to go into a delay. I'm maneuvering thru the overcrowded insanity of an under-construction JFK airport on a rainy night. The Mets game is on the radio, in the middle of an extended delay from the storm. And then, just up the road, at the ballpark over in Flushing, while the game was still in a rain delay, the Mets officially waved the white flag on their season. News came over the radio that the Mets had agreed to trade their top relief pitcher, David Robertson, to the Marlins for prospects. When the storm eventually lets up around midnight, the game resumes, the Mets grab the lead, closing out a 2-1 win without their closer who just <a href="https://www.espn.com/mlb/recap/_/gameId/401472562" target="_blank">got traded</a>, and my brother made it thru the crowded JFK arrivals into the car. In the following few days leading up to the trade deadline, the Mets would gut their roster, selling off all their most in-demand pieces in trades in attempt to bulk up their farm system.</p><p>***</p><p><span>TOKYO, Japan---Back in April, it's the middle of the night and I'm in and out of sleep in a tiny bed in a hotel in east Tokyo, keeping an eye on the TV which is broadcasting a game at rain-soaked Fenway Park in Boston, the Red Sox facing Shohei Ohtani's Angels of Anaheim. Shohei is the starting pitcher on the mound for the Angels against the Red Sox who've got their new addition from Japan, outfielder Masataka Yoshida, in the lineup facing Ohtani for the first time in an MLB game. The game was set to start at 11 AM eastern time (midnight Tokyo time) but it's pouring rain in Boston so the game is delayed. The Japanese pregame show I'm watching is not in English, but based on the charts, graphics, and stats they're displaying, I can tell these commentators know ball. They are analyzing the much-anticipated Ohtani vs Yoshida matchup. One month prior, Ohtani and Yoshida were teammates on Team Japan, leading to a thrilling WBC championship victory against Team USA. Now, Yoshida would be in the batter's box facing off against Ohtani on the mound at cold, wet Fenway Park. The analysts break down Ohtani's arsenal of pitches and Yoshida's strengths and weaknesses as a hitter.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjib4aUSZnFZgWcUTtNbLXgyPhTs6zX6N8C0EPCL1H_Goap3eINdPQzBHYM7j_-B5I5bzQitKEpDsiLBgA_gXt4Kw4fm9HGzlfeUuETGrjJV0K5v1iQOZsxeiM8cP_UBQPmi9X5yWGjowSpI5oZ9HOkP5D-b8-DMmhY6xnwX3NK1YNDjw63swf76ky29k/s4032/IMG_2464.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjib4aUSZnFZgWcUTtNbLXgyPhTs6zX6N8C0EPCL1H_Goap3eINdPQzBHYM7j_-B5I5bzQitKEpDsiLBgA_gXt4Kw4fm9HGzlfeUuETGrjJV0K5v1iQOZsxeiM8cP_UBQPmi9X5yWGjowSpI5oZ9HOkP5D-b8-DMmhY6xnwX3NK1YNDjw63swf76ky29k/w400-h300/IMG_2464.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDaJpZ3w3Zh0kaNvwzmE-52aaW2hgECEQ-5de7RJuvrqrjLOiHebd__7_v3MOc_B-NGR-uiRqe7GyOAcKokjO5A1xTvMSXtZ3K_laI9IoTTRoDQ3MuIlHRF-Z3VrvQB0BF4jetRR1qS9cKLAnEgucKc9kDGeSHqsLJYTqqZgq-L12HeaJwmw9YvaTbAe4/s4032/IMG_2462.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDaJpZ3w3Zh0kaNvwzmE-52aaW2hgECEQ-5de7RJuvrqrjLOiHebd__7_v3MOc_B-NGR-uiRqe7GyOAcKokjO5A1xTvMSXtZ3K_laI9IoTTRoDQ3MuIlHRF-Z3VrvQB0BF4jetRR1qS9cKLAnEgucKc9kDGeSHqsLJYTqqZgq-L12HeaJwmw9YvaTbAe4/w400-h300/IMG_2462.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p>The rain hardly let up but they started the game anyway. Top of the 1st, Ohtani comes to the plate and crushes a base hit on the first pitch he sees from Brayan Bello. Standing on first base, Ohtani puts on a jacket, but the <a href="https://twitter.com/Cut4/status/1648075284195979264?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw%7Ctwcamp%5Etweetembed%7Ctwterm%5E1648075284195979264%7Ctwgr%5Efee3308163cf919c6a6d4294e2a60ac2af568e23%7Ctwcon%5Es1_c10&ref_url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.si.com%2Fextra-mustard%2F2023%2F04%2F17%2Fangels-red-sox-shohei-ohtani-couldnt-zipper-jacket-fans-had-jokes" target="_blank">zipper breaks</a> on him so he immediately takes it off. In the bottom of the 1st, it's raining again and I'm nervous for Shohei who was slipping off the mound in his delivery before the grounds crew desperately tried to dry off the mound mud. Ohtani strikes out Yoshida with a 98-mph fastball in their only matchup. He pitched 2 innings before another heavy downpour caused the game to stop for a long rain delay and Ohtani's day on the mound was over. He did stay in the game as a designated hitter and I drifted into deep sleep while the Angels held on for a 5-4 <a href="https://www.espn.com/mlb/recap/_/gameId/401471256" target="_blank">win</a>, avoiding a sweep. </p><p>During my stay in Tokyo, I notice there's a TV channel that specifically shows the daily highlights of Japanese MLB players, from Shohei Ohtani and Masataka Yoshida to Yusei Kikuchi and Shintaro Fujinami. I'm also struck by how much anime is on TV, it's on almost every channel. One night I've got anime on TV and there's a whole bizarre sequence featuring a baseball game in a rain storm where the field gets completely flooded. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhze11YFTHqDuUyhZ-RsqXrrqz_iuU1-ALlTTv0_BnmX8nVh5WbBiyMlPwYgJDN2Z_Cpt2F_3gPEvMycWzfFSwMFLtFnHdGQbr_fxBWCR51r0e_zEs-eqvYy2AvZb3h89ATTFTGcmktnMLSPw8w2vxbwOBp4AiiW7yk4qe137qio1DXIakKZ_V9Giu6ofw/s2928/IMG_2582.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1889" data-original-width="2928" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhze11YFTHqDuUyhZ-RsqXrrqz_iuU1-ALlTTv0_BnmX8nVh5WbBiyMlPwYgJDN2Z_Cpt2F_3gPEvMycWzfFSwMFLtFnHdGQbr_fxBWCR51r0e_zEs-eqvYy2AvZb3h89ATTFTGcmktnMLSPw8w2vxbwOBp4AiiW7yk4qe137qio1DXIakKZ_V9Giu6ofw/s320/IMG_2582.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1UiyEIg1IdyXUnumr_dGYpgy_oKneOYFUW53ZINB9DeQ84zkSWn47Ycf5ozZzMn5ff3DI1sKquPUnu8SXjM-VlUUgksugDD3I74TubgeBf9CdSuJVT2qCSeJB1STK4EP_Put6aLZoud2xhR9gvs8j1VsKxWOkMb94MtE2qtr8Rtade5kdFxn1_A5DI28/s2964/IMG_2583.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1928" data-original-width="2964" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1UiyEIg1IdyXUnumr_dGYpgy_oKneOYFUW53ZINB9DeQ84zkSWn47Ycf5ozZzMn5ff3DI1sKquPUnu8SXjM-VlUUgksugDD3I74TubgeBf9CdSuJVT2qCSeJB1STK4EP_Put6aLZoud2xhR9gvs8j1VsKxWOkMb94MtE2qtr8Rtade5kdFxn1_A5DI28/s320/IMG_2583.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkpM_3bFBZl-78J_j5pFHgba_P31Crn0okjEYcI_d6Q84YhClP74KI4-5DmXqDsOYJ79h1_PLBZPCRNMC3GfkPy2t5JEQoZR1Wai2BikXSI1e9zuKngKVuWzwhXWQ2QHSVkvUNrLbnevZnWdTKntgTJahLijsN_gUty3YdhdiViASGlBhBsM-UaiUFXcI/s2974/IMG_2585.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2003" data-original-width="2974" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkpM_3bFBZl-78J_j5pFHgba_P31Crn0okjEYcI_d6Q84YhClP74KI4-5DmXqDsOYJ79h1_PLBZPCRNMC3GfkPy2t5JEQoZR1Wai2BikXSI1e9zuKngKVuWzwhXWQ2QHSVkvUNrLbnevZnWdTKntgTJahLijsN_gUty3YdhdiViASGlBhBsM-UaiUFXcI/s320/IMG_2585.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p>***</p><p><span>OSAKA, Japan---Late April, I've been in Japan for a couple weeks, the Nippon Professional Baseball season is well underway but I haven't been able to attend any games yet because of logistics. Games are either sold out or too far away. Now that I'm in Osaka, the Hanshin Tigers play in a historic ballpark a short train ride out of town. So my plan is to head out to Koshien Stadium to see the Hanshin Tigers host the rival Yomiuri Giants. Only problem is there's been a steady rain all day. I've been wearing a Hanshin Tigers hat around town, eliciting comments from the locals; a bunch of Tigers fans high-five me at an okonomiyaki restaurant, a tour guide yells out "nice hat!" while guiding people thru the streets. I take the train out west near the scenic hills of Kobe. The train is filled with Tigers fans, folks just getting out of work, a kid in a Tigers hat with his grandmother. Everyone is anxious to get to the ballpark and hoping the rain lets up. It's not until we all arrive at the park, walk underneath the highway overpass and pass all the merch vendors in ponchos, that we learn the game has been canceled due to inclement weather. </span></p><p><span>My one opportunity to see a ballgame in Japan, a rivalry matchup no less (and the Tigers would go on to <a href="https://www.reuters.com/sports/baseball/tigers-fans-take-it-easy-after-pennant-win-japan-2023-09-15/" target="_blank">win the pennant</a> for the first time in 18 years), and the game was rained out just as I arrived at the stadium. My only consolation was that at least I got to see the stadium. Koshien Stadium will celebrate its 100th anniversary next year. It's the oldest and most revered ballpark in Japan. One of the few stadiums in the country without a roof, it's also quirky because it features an all-dirt infield. I figured it was unlikely they'd be able to play the game with that infield all muddy. Rainouts are part of baseball, though, part of the experience of a baseball season. </span></p><p><span>The outer facade of the outfield was covered in ivy which was a nice look:</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicdMxN4HJ_O6IrGavD7ROrBqkvvBG_uNwdB2HzhFjS2RIDHRovRYInZsd5h1bpQFPMXvInmIocerGkgJLv71KPMTW4dclVwoZIH6vNSyCrJyLNAk_5pNtnIL7b0cL4MZXjXOVfPLsdTFaHTI9LzmXlDw0qbr1iLoh_3Av4iE6T_o159ZO3q7Y1E4t5DqI/s4032/IMG_2822.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicdMxN4HJ_O6IrGavD7ROrBqkvvBG_uNwdB2HzhFjS2RIDHRovRYInZsd5h1bpQFPMXvInmIocerGkgJLv71KPMTW4dclVwoZIH6vNSyCrJyLNAk_5pNtnIL7b0cL4MZXjXOVfPLsdTFaHTI9LzmXlDw0qbr1iLoh_3Av4iE6T_o159ZO3q7Y1E4t5DqI/w400-h300/IMG_2822.jpeg" title="Outside of Koshien Stadium, Nishinomiya, Japan" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Outside of Koshien Stadium, Nishinomiya, Japan.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>Koshien Stadium was built in homage to the Polo Grounds in New York. The mythic status the Polo Grounds holds in the consciousness of an American baseball fan is partly due to the fact that the old ballpark no longer exists, there's no way to experience it except in grainy footage (or playing <i>MLB: The Show</i>). And yet in Japan there is a 100-year-old baseball mecca conceived in the same bowl-shape as the Polo Grounds. I'm committed to get back there one day to actually see a game. <div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjNxc2mbc-oKbSCbv0VjLadnGs7D1H-DmlYAkC3GzmlsTAnggz4XOX8reTft2tPahVxQ4yYKfRIfHQ1g7ddQloXdfF7PO4eX4pQAEMza7OKsGhup8CAnj-6Zt7iXPavXEWatSx23wlUWrhVm0pBDb1R6JpOOnYA6BbX4h8Ff_FzzDQ37gTudjOgvX9sM/s3104/IMG_2824.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3104" data-original-width="2812" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjNxc2mbc-oKbSCbv0VjLadnGs7D1H-DmlYAkC3GzmlsTAnggz4XOX8reTft2tPahVxQ4yYKfRIfHQ1g7ddQloXdfF7PO4eX4pQAEMza7OKsGhup8CAnj-6Zt7iXPavXEWatSx23wlUWrhVm0pBDb1R6JpOOnYA6BbX4h8Ff_FzzDQ37gTudjOgvX9sM/w363-h400/IMG_2824.jpeg" width="363" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The bowl-shaped Koshien Stadium, built in 1924, inspired by the Polo Grounds.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span>***</span></p><p><span>QUEENS, NY---In the middle of May, I spent a few days in NYC hanging with family and I went to a Mets game. My first in-person baseball game of the season. Thankfully opted for the Friday game instead of the Saturday game because the latter got rained out. The Friday game ended up being the most exciting win of the Mets season and one of the best Mets games I've ever witnessed up close. Before getting to my seat, the Mets had fallen behind 3-0 to the Cleveland Guardians on a 3-run homer from Josh Naylor in the top of the 1st. Soon the Mets were down 7-0, but they chipped away. In the bottom of the 7th, Pete Alonso came to the plate with the bases loaded and the Mets trailing 7-3. He blasted a game-tying grand slam that sent the packed crowd into frenzied mayhem and Pete was so pumped he did a full celebratory twirl between the bases. The Mets fell behind again, down 9-7 going into the bottom of the 10th but once again fought back, battled through every at-bat, and won the game 10-9. Francisco Alvarez hit a homer and a game-tying RBI single. Brett Baty went deep in this game. Francisco Lindor had the walkoff hit in a huge game against his former team. It was the highest high point in a down year for the Mets. After the next day's rainout, the Mets swept a Sunday doubleheader to finish off their best week of the season. </span></p><p><span>***</span></p><p><span>ARLINGTON, TX--- Mid-June, I was at the ballpark in Arlington watching Corey Seager crush line drives all over the park for the Texas Rangers in their fancy retractable roof warehouse stadium. The Rangers have a brand-new ballpark with a retractable roof yet it never rains there. The roof is to block the sun. The "old" ballpark for the Rangers remains standing right across the street, completely functional but lacking a roof to shield the field from the brutal solar rays blasting down each day for half the year.</span></p><p><span>***</span></p><p>HOUSTON, TX---Middle of June, I zip on down to Houston to watch the Mets play the Astros. Mets season falling apart. They stole a badly needed win against the Astros in the first game of the series. I was there to see Justin Verlander returning to Houston to pitch for the Mets against lefty Framber Valdez who carved his way thru the Mets lineup. Verlander was off to a shaky start on the season for Mets, lacking command, falling behind in the count nearly every at-bat. He battled but gave up a bomb to Alex Bregman and got beat by his old squad. Next afternoon, I was there at the ballpark again. The roof was once again closed, to keep it nice and cool indoors. The Mets looked sluggish as they dropped a winnable game to lose the series. After the game, perched across the street from the ballpark in a hotel room on an upper floor in a tall building, I watch as a massive storm system arrives over the city of Houston. The skies put on a cinematic lightning-and-thunder orchestra. As the torrential rains gush down, I notice Minute Maid Park has the roof open and the lights on. </p></div>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-11325223966567255262023-10-05T15:38:00.003-05:002023-10-05T18:39:22.428-05:00The Stone Vortex<p>Walking in a quiet cemetery in a scenic valley in search of a poet's gravestone. Silence, tranquility, the peace of souls in repose. In the midst of a road trip, I'd made a quick stop in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania on a summer afternoon to pay a visit to the grave of the poet H.D. aka Hilda Doolittle (Sept 10, 1886 - Sept 27, 1961), located in Nisky Hill cemetery, on East Church Street. The same street where H.D. was born and spent her childhood.</p><p><span> </span>Three months prior, back in April, I was in Asia walking along the beach on a small tropical island in the Philippines where a thick blanket of humid heat smothered the air and the lines of H.D.'s poem "Heat" became a repeated mantra:</p><p><b></b></p><blockquote><p><b>O wind, rend open the heat,<br />cut apart the heat,<br />rend it to tatters.</b></p><p><b>Fruit cannot drop<br />through this thick air—<br />fruit cannot fall into heat<br />that presses up and blunts<br />the points of pears<br />and rounds the grapes.</b></p><p><b>Cut the heat—<br />plough through it,<br />turning it on either side<br />of your path.</b></p></blockquote><p><b></b></p><p> A poem like this one is an object of contemplation, an artifact to be carried around, consulted, unpacked and admired. H.D. wrote many of these perfect gems. H.D. was the premier poet of the style her lifelong friend Ezra Pound had called Imagism or <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/69480/vortex" target="_blank">Vorticism</a>, for the concentration of compacted representation into a vortex of words. Efficient, concise, unencumbered expression carved into verse as if chiseled into stone. As Pound described it in his Vorticism declaration, "It is the picture that means a hundred poems, the music that means a hundred pictures, the most highly energized statement, the statement that has not yet SPENT itself in expression, but which is the most capable of expressing." The point of the Image, in Pound's view, was not simply to create a picture in words, but to create an intellectual and emotional complex. A convergence of meaning and impression. For H.D. especially, the poetic image was not something inert, a verbal photograph, but something alive, a compacted energy that opens up a portal. </p><p><span> </span>H.D.'s poems had become important to me the last couple years. There is a force in so much of her poetry that I find gives me strength. I had been reading what's widely considered her greatest work the <i>War Trilogy</i> last year when I posted <a href="https://www.abuildingroam.com/2022/12/cryptoconchoidsiphonostomata-shell.html" target="_blank">here about shell poetics</a> and quoted, <i>There is a spell, for instance in every sea-shell: continuous, the sea thrust is powerless against coral</i>. That extended ode to the sea-shell comes from "The Walls Do Not Fall" which she composed in London where she was living during the German blitz of World War II. </p><p><span> </span>Pound's declaration about Vorticism emphasizes the Image in poetry, and it was Pound who originally suggested to Hilda Doolittle that she sign her poetry "H.D. Imagiste." He touted her work as the exemplar of Imagist expression. This was around 1912, before World War I started. Pound had met Hilda Doolittle when they were high school students and they fell in love, he eventually convinced her to meet him in London where they got engaged, before breaking it off. But they remained friends. Doolittle had also known William Carlos Williams since their high school days in Pennsylvania. It's incredible that these three giants of 20th century literature all basically grew up together. </p><p><span> </span>H.D. led an interesting life. She was a muse for acclaimed writers like Ezra Pound, D.H. Lawrence, and Richard Aldington, she consulted with Sigmund Freud for years, she even starred alongside Paul Robeson in a silent-film about an interracial couple. She was in London during both World Wars. She traveled to Egypt and to Greece (both cultures were major influences on her poetry) and was living in Zurich when she died in 1961. Her cremated remains were repatriated to the US so that her final resting place could be in the Doolittle family plot in the Moravian cemetery on East Church Street where she grew up.</p><p><span> And so there</span> I was walking thru that cemetery on a quiet street in Bethlehem, PA hoping to find H.D.'s grave and hoping it was worth stopping for. It was my girlfriend's idea, she's from the south Jersey/Philly area and accompanied me on the trip. Neither of us had any idea what we were going to find, though.</p><p><span> </span>When we reached H.D.'s gravestone, there was already a couple people there paying their respects. The grave stone was decorated with sea shells, it felt like a pilgrimage site for her readers.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsOHyW5CQpHI9ReVIxA77aGpuxkI4xhx85udpzNqLgxF22wQi5YsPu_It6D3v4mqCN2J3wOXOAuHUUIgSxMlHNy3PSWYUSTD8FCjtCLnbUz6x3bqAbsb9QFHgIPzzgUMBIiDd-_QtPpJsDh6hcJMy1uaZwynybUwv4hsanPj3kR1IBN0M_ktpg7Q0jEFE/s4032/IMG_3948.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsOHyW5CQpHI9ReVIxA77aGpuxkI4xhx85udpzNqLgxF22wQi5YsPu_It6D3v4mqCN2J3wOXOAuHUUIgSxMlHNy3PSWYUSTD8FCjtCLnbUz6x3bqAbsb9QFHgIPzzgUMBIiDd-_QtPpJsDh6hcJMy1uaZwynybUwv4hsanPj3kR1IBN0M_ktpg7Q0jEFE/w300-h400/IMG_3948.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p><span> </span>Her epitaph is an excerpt from a poem she wrote in her 1929 collection, <i>Red Roses for Bronze</i>, the poem is actually titled "Epitaph."</p><p><b></b></p><blockquote><b>So you may say,<br />Greek flower; Greek ecstasy<br />reclaims forever<br />one who died<br />following intricate song's<br />lost measure.</b></blockquote><p></p><p><span> </span>The silence which hung in the air of the cemetery that afternoon spoke to me about life and death. I'd just learned a few days prior that an old friend I grew up with had tragically died far too young. The shock of this knowledge was fresh and the air was pregnant with meaning. It was also a day or two after my 38th birthday which, thankfully, I got to spend surrounded by my close family. With all this in the air, in my mind, with a friend's spirit having been permanently exhaled back out into the mysterious universe, I was there in the quiet cemetery surrounded by gravestones and wondering: What is the value of a human life? What are any of us worth to the universe? Why are we here? Why do we live?</p><p><span><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Looking at the gravestones I was struck by the inevitability of our bodies and souls all one day inevitably being summarized and compacted into a stone tablet on a patch of grass someplace. The Stone Vortex. I also was struck how H.D., Hilda Doolittle, a relatively minor literary figure unknown to most people on earth, had achieved so much in her life and made such an impact that I and countless others like myself were drawn to visit her gravestone and I actually felt great pride for what she had accomplished. Her own poetry was etched in stone onto her grave and she inspired people to turn her relatively small, unassuming final resting place into a shrine. A suitable legacy, perhaps. It is in the brevity and economy of her use of words, so carefully chosen, often simple recognizable words, together coagulating into an alchemical reaction, a mystical force capable of inspiring, impacting, staying with her readers, all birthed out of a few lines. In her "War Trilogy" she wrote:<br /></span></p><p><b></b></p><blockquote><p><b>I know, I feel<br />the meaning that words hide;</b></p><p><b>they are anagrams, cryptograms,<br />little boxes, conditioned</b></p><p><span></span></p><p><b>to hatch butterflies…</b></p></blockquote><p><b></b></p><p><span><span><span> </span>The backdrop to this cemetery scene was kinda surreal, as a little further down in the valley stood an old steel mill, its rusty interlocked tubes and chimneys granting a steampunk vibe to the setting. </span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVof8c-EjTiVb06BrPkCRHXCOZQCSwAWbprRZRDBZzKzGXFj59rUOKiiAYiat78KaL9wQaAzRpUBBS0za0N9jiq5OLbWEaTPqxTm4gJvMbcvey33VHIw0R6eOfXbm27TgQ38fyoe_7LvH8NGKeAQ2AVzHmSUw-F_RPS6Rng5BLFZDCoW01h1aqXRecKI/s1306/Screenshot%202023-09-11%20at%204.49.33%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1306" data-original-width="1238" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVof8c-EjTiVb06BrPkCRHXCOZQCSwAWbprRZRDBZzKzGXFj59rUOKiiAYiat78KaL9wQaAzRpUBBS0za0N9jiq5OLbWEaTPqxTm4gJvMbcvey33VHIw0R6eOfXbm27TgQ38fyoe_7LvH8NGKeAQ2AVzHmSUw-F_RPS6Rng5BLFZDCoW01h1aqXRecKI/w379-h400/Screenshot%202023-09-11%20at%204.49.33%20PM.png" width="379" /></a></div><br /><span><span> This was the old Bethlehem Steel mill, active during the days when Hilda Doolittle was a child growing up on this street. </span></span>There was a story to be discerned in looking at the graves in the Doolittle family plot. Looking at the names and the birth and death dates, later reading up on her family, one could see that the family had a daughter who died at five months old. Hilda was the only girl in a family with five brothers. One of her brothers was killed in World War I in 1918 and, very shortly after that, Hilda's father died. It seems he suffered a stroke upon the shock of learning his son had been killed.<p></p><p><span> Another of H.D.'s poems from her collection <i>Red Roses for Bronze</i>, "Birds in Snow" has a bit that I think captures the essence of the scene I was encountering:</span><br /></p><p><b></b></p><blockquote><b>like plaques of ancient writ<br /></b><b>our garden flags now name<br /></b><b>the great and very-great;<br /></b><b>our garden flags acclaim<br /></b><b>in carven hieroglyph,<br /></b><b>here king and kinglet lie,<br /></b><b>here prince and lady rest,<br /></b><b>mystical queens sleep here<br /></b><b>and heroes that are slain.</b></blockquote><b></b><p></p><p><span><span><span> </span>Her father was a professor of astronomy. When he was appointed as head of the astronomy department at University of Pennsylvania, he moved the family to a neighborhood just outside Philadelphia. At the observatory at the university, Charles Doolittle dutifully observed and studied the tiniest, most minute perturbations of the earth's spin on its axis. </span></span></p><p> In the swirl of my thoughts on life and death, and the story of the Doolittle family, I was remembering scenes from Terence Malick's 2011 film <i>The Tree of Life</i>. A son goes off to war, the family learns that he has been killed, and as the parents process their child's untimely death, the film shows a sequence beginning with the birth of the universe, the development of solar systems, our sun coming to form, the earth congealing into a round rocky orb, scenes of dinosaurs, and then a meteor blast. The unspoken message seems to be that every individual life began with the birth of the universe, and every single event that occurred afterwards, big or small, happened in such a way so as to allow for the birth and development of that individual person.</p><div><br /></div><div><b></b><blockquote><b>"Till tree from tree, tree among trees, tree over tree become stone to stone, stone between stones, stone under stone for ever."</b> </blockquote><blockquote>- <i>Finnegans Wake</i> (p. 259)</blockquote><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">* * *</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I want to suggest some further reading for anyone interested, because I've been immersed in several books about H.D. and it's sprung forth far more thoughts than I could document here. I've been reading Robert Duncan's <i>The H.D. Book</i> which is a close study of her work. Also, the H.D. biography written by Janice S. Robinson, <i>H.D.: The Life and Work of an American Poet</i>, is informative. Also been reading bits of <i>The Pound Era</i> by Hugh Kenner. The <i>NY Times</i> <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/1982/02/14/books/her-deepest-passion-was-dh-lawrence.html" target="_blank">obituary</a> for H.D. is maybe a bit unfair at times, but also sums up her fascinating life very well.</div><div><br /></div><div><span> </span>My interest in H.D. originally was sparked by something I read in a book by poet & critic Peter O'Leary <i><b>Thick and Dazzling Darkness: Religious Poetry in a Secular Age</b></i> (2018), where he talks about what happened when H.D. traveled to the Scilly Islands in order to recover from being stricken with the influenza virus during the 1918 pandemic, and where she gave birth to her daughter. O'Leary writes (on p. 16-17) that when H.D. was there she:<br /><blockquote>entered into a state of consciousness in which she felt herself merged with her surroundings and her new body. An oceanic feeling, if you will. Albert Gelphi explains that she "moved into moments of consciousness in which feelings of separateness gave way to a sense of organic wholeness: collapse gave way to coherence and alienation to participation in a cosmic scheme." H.D. herself characterized this as a state of "jelly-fish consciousness" in which an "over-mind" drooped down across her field of vision, "a cap of consciousness over my head, my forehead, affecting a little my eyes." [H.D. elaborated as] "a set of super-feelings. These feelings extend out and about us; as the long, floating tentacles of the jelly-fish reach out and about [me]. They are not of different material, extraneous, as the physical arms and legs are extraneous to the gray matter of the directing brain. These super-feelers are part of the super-mind, as the jelly-fish feelers are the jelly-fish itself, elongated in fine threads." H.D.'s oceanic feeling was so metaphorically saturated that it was pervaded with sea creatures whose motions activated an anticipatory awareness of the unison she would feel with her daughter.</blockquote><br /><span> </span>Later, O'Leary writes: "... she would merge (that Whitmanian term) with octopus and shark, powerful predators of the depths, unlocking secret doors and daring occult lore." (p. 20)</div><div><br /></div><div><span> </span>Speaking of Whitman, I've been reading his <i>Leaves of Grass</i> where he writes, after a child asked him what is the grass: <br /></div><blockquote><div><b>I guess the grass is itself a child . . . . the produced babe of the vegetation.<br />[...]<br />And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.</b></div></blockquote><p> And later he writes: </p><blockquote><div><b>What do you think has become of the young and old men?<br />And what do you think has become of the women and children?<br />They are alive and well somewhere;<br />The smallest sprout shows there is really no death ...<br />[...]<br />All goes onward and outward . . . . and nothing collapses</b></div><div></div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><div><i>Rest in Peace Michael Zazulka.</i></div>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-31113533901843795552022-12-04T20:06:00.019-06:002022-12-05T19:29:34.333-06:00Cryptoconchoidsiphonostomata: Shell Poetics<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf2llklWVSgN62SgPsQcdNDpk33G9317nEt5q0HwPRU7LXC-ZxRLYtpPKwOW9gjBezbsZE2HWdJyHBvEGUjxATjqsQDmD0HrGzyRC9NuDlSQ2om2Q-qhy12H-ymj5SB24DeSNGRR1d-od8WLoKRDJQ_o-hEUTVRqHfJvV5bRnf6VsSjD_tj1p2q4ol/s1600/scaly-foot-snail.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1193" data-original-width="1600" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf2llklWVSgN62SgPsQcdNDpk33G9317nEt5q0HwPRU7LXC-ZxRLYtpPKwOW9gjBezbsZE2HWdJyHBvEGUjxATjqsQDmD0HrGzyRC9NuDlSQ2om2Q-qhy12H-ymj5SB24DeSNGRR1d-od8WLoKRDJQ_o-hEUTVRqHfJvV5bRnf6VsSjD_tj1p2q4ol/w320-h239/scaly-foot-snail.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scaly-foot snail shell. (Stefan Bengston)</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scaly-foot_gastropod" target="_blank">Scaly-foot snail</a> makes its habitat in the most treacherous region in the world---it lives along the hydrothermal vent fields deep down on the sea floor in the Indian Ocean. These subaquatic vents spew forth hydrogen sulfides, a highly-toxic poisonous gas which the Scaly-foot snail not only withstands but, using a self-produced bacteria, turns into sustenance. </p><p>Withstanding the pressure of nearly 2 miles of ocean water weighing down, defending itself from predators, and thriving in a zone of boiling hot poison gas spewing everywhere, the Scaly-foot snail constructs a shell made out of iron. It is the only known organism to create iron sulfide biominerals for use in its exoskeleton and shell. The iron shell and scales protect a creature with the largest heart, relative to body volume, in the entire animal kingdom (4% of its body volume). Scaly-foot snails are simultaneous hermaphrodites possessing both sexual organs and, despite their high fecundity which creates many eggs, the species is now considered endangered thanks to deep-sea dredging in the Indian Ocean floor.</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">* * *</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><b></b></p><blockquote><b>"the handwriting on his facewall, the cryptoconchoidsiphonostomata in his exprussians"</b> <br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>(<i>Finnegans Wake</i> 136.16) </blockquote><p>[<i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cryptoconchoidsyphonostomata" target="_blank">Cryptoconchoidsyphonostomata</a></i> was the name of a stage play performed at Royal Theater in Dublin in James Joyce's day. The word literally means something like "hidden shell-like tube-mouths."]</p><p></p><p></p><blockquote><b>"Putting Allspace in a Notshall." </b><i>FW</i> 455.29</blockquote><blockquote><b>"the quivers of scaly silver and their clutches of chromes"</b> <i>FW</i> 477.26</blockquote><p> </p><div style="text-align: center;">* * *</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrx1GCsNwc5N0Ylfx5arAjHRMC6vec5OqzfHDXhM1o_FdDpZi4_lAHBcftMg4nZfuaktMgHmubonfLYQ8KAzx6p_zbeqympd-kqQbJk_s_Bv7hr2KGwnmKDR6wplc0CAiMEY69yvnwI4rLso2psP-_nn6Ukp-GXRxHI5giWc3hvKiIGDNWUXQVlk7C/s1366/Screen%20Shot%202022-12-05%20at%207.05.23%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="968" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrx1GCsNwc5N0Ylfx5arAjHRMC6vec5OqzfHDXhM1o_FdDpZi4_lAHBcftMg4nZfuaktMgHmubonfLYQ8KAzx6p_zbeqympd-kqQbJk_s_Bv7hr2KGwnmKDR6wplc0CAiMEY69yvnwI4rLso2psP-_nn6Ukp-GXRxHI5giWc3hvKiIGDNWUXQVlk7C/w284-h400/Screen%20Shot%202022-12-05%20at%207.05.23%20PM.png" width="284" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p></p><blockquote><span style="font-size: medium;">Faced with "the horrible dangers of war," <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bernard_Palissy" target="_blank">Bernard Palissy</a> contemplated a design for a "fortress city." He had lost all hope of finding an existing plan "in the cities built today." Vitruvius himself could be of no help in the century of the cannon. So he journeyed through "forests, mountains and valleys to see if he could find some industrious animal that had built some industrious houses." After inquiring everywhere, Palissy began to muse about "a young slug that was building its house and fortress with its own saliva." Indeed, he passed several months dreaming of a construction <i>from within</i>, and most of his leisure time was spent walking beside the sea, where he saw "such a variety of houses and fortresses which certain little fishes had made from their own liquor and saliva that, from now on, I began to think that he was something that might be applied to my own project." "The battles and acts of brigandry" that take place in the sea, being on a larger scale than those that take place on land, God "had conferred upon each one the diligence and skill needed to build a house that had been surveyed and constructed by means of such geometry and architecture, that Solomon, in all his wisdom could never have made anything like it."<br /></span><span><span style="font-size: medium;"> With regard to spiralled shells, he wrote that this shape was not at all "for mere beauty, there's much more to it than that. You must understand that there are several fish with such sharply pointed beaks that they would devour most of the above-mentioned fish if the latter's abodes were in a straight line: but when they are attacked by their enemies on the threshold, just as they are about to withdraw inside, they twist and turn in a spiral line and, in this way, the foe can do them no harm."</span><br /></span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>- Gaston Bachelard, <i>The Poetics of Space</i>, p. 146-147</blockquote><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>* * *</b></p><p><b></b></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-size: medium;">There is a spell, for instance<br />in every sea-shell:<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">continuous, the sea thrust<br />is powerless against coral,<br /><br />bone, stone, marble<br />hewn from within by that craftsman,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">the shell-fish:<br />oyster, clam, mollusc</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">is master-mason planning<br />the stone marvel:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">yet that flabby, amorphous hermit<br />within, like the planet</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">senses the finite,<br />it limits its orbit</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">of being, its house,<br />temple, fane, shrine:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">it unlocks the portals<br />at stated intervals:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">prompted by hunger,<br />it opens to the tide-flow:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">but infinity? no,<br />of nothing-too-much:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I sense my own limit,<br />my shell-jaws snap shut</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">at invasion of the limitless,<br />ocean-weight; infinite water</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">can not crack me, egg in egg-shell;<br />closed in, complete, immortal</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">full-circle, I know the pull<br />of the tide, the lull</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">as well as the moon;<br />the octupus-darkness</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">is powerless against<br />her cold immortality;</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">so I in my own way know<br />that the whale</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">can not digest me:<br />be firm in your own small, static, limited</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">orbit and the shark-jaws<br />of outer circumstance</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">will spit you forth:<br />be indigestible, hard, ungiving,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">so that, living within,<br />you beget, self-out-of-self,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">selfless,<br />that pearl-of-great-price.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote><p><span> </span>- H.D.<br /><span> </span>p. 8-9, <i>Trilogy </i>(1944)</p></blockquote><p><b></b></p>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-91941086579818495392022-10-29T12:45:00.006-05:002022-10-30T15:43:21.083-05:00A Post-Mortem for the 2022 New York Mets <p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zH2UXz49SqdeQmFcnM-22qHX4WTRtY5wzx3spP0y6f4JnLIaFchX8xaFmDq-biFLIKOH5_uALOaEkFUo7kfYCkuDeZc2Lvd9Vka2sLD5z_1iBxq4t426Yx2G-5QH34jjC4SeqVaLBW3fKixYn50phm2XY7FJ8nGYUsbNO0ptB6xHjEpOPPggt3bX/s1440/deGrom-Queens.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1440" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zH2UXz49SqdeQmFcnM-22qHX4WTRtY5wzx3spP0y6f4JnLIaFchX8xaFmDq-biFLIKOH5_uALOaEkFUo7kfYCkuDeZc2Lvd9Vka2sLD5z_1iBxq4t426Yx2G-5QH34jjC4SeqVaLBW3fKixYn50phm2XY7FJ8nGYUsbNO0ptB6xHjEpOPPggt3bX/w400-h225/deGrom-Queens.webp" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Jacob deGrom looking off into an uncertain future.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />With baseball engaged in its final series before the 2022 season ends, I feel compelled to collect my thoughts on the Mets season now with this being the third consecutive full MLB season in which the NL pennant went to a Mets rival from the NL East. In other words, since 2019 every NL East team has won the pennant except the Mets and the Marlins. <p></p><p>Incredibly, by most measures the Mets in 2022 had their second-best season ever. Yet those results represented the lower end of this team's range of outcomes. These Mets won 101 games, eclipsed by only the legendary 1986 Mets (one of the best teams ever) who won 108 games. Buck Showalter's Mets squad finished 40 games over .500 in his first year as manager. Buck seemed to help shift the franchise toward a more respectable vibe than recent vintage. This was a polished all-around ballclub led by a deep lineup full of hitters with different styles from the power of Pete Alonso to patient bats like Brandon Nimmo and Mark Canha to the throwback contact skills of 2022 NL batting champion Jeff McNeil. Francisco Lindor had the best season of any Mets shortstop ever, Starling Marte added a jolt to the lineup with his power-speed combo. The starting rotation consistently shoved, the bullpen had fewer meltdowns than any Mets team I can remember thanks mostly to a Cy Young-level historically dominant year from Edwin Diaz closing games. </p><p>The 2022 Mets held onto first place for the vast majority of the season, they always seemed to fight back after a loss, and they kept pace with the scorching hot Braves as summer turned to fall. Yet by the end the story of these Mets soured with the Braves barely edging them out in the final week much like they did in 2021 when the Mets led the division for almost five months until collapsing. This year the Mets' collapse was milder, more gradual, more complicated. Hardly a collapse, more of an increasingly uninspired, perhaps exhausted tread that tripped and tumbled til the Mets were fighting for their lives in a do-or-die game against the Padres and complaining about Joe Musgrove's shiny ears (reminiscent of the '86 Mets flipping out over Mike Scott scuffing the ball when he dominated in the 1986 NLCS). Thus an otherwise great Mets season ends up fitting into a narrative pattern alongside their last few years of agonizing almosts and embarrassing ineptitude.</p><p>In 2021 the Mets were in first place with six weeks left in the season and then imploded so badly they ended up in 3rd place, 11.5 games behind the division-winning Braves. Even in the 2020 Covid-shortened season the Mets just barely missed out on the postseason despite a larger than normal playoff pool. The 2019 Mets season was memorable for several superstars putting up big numbers and lots of dramatic wins only to fall just barely short of the playoffs due to several egregious meltdowns from the bullpen. </p><p>The 2022 Mets were paradoxical in that they hardly suffered any meltdowns. They were a winning team every month, they played well both at home and on the road. Their "collapse" happened in September when they had a .577 winning percentage. Problem was they were being chased by a red-hot Atlanta team and needed to be perfect in the final weeks playing against the weakest schedule in baseball. They had so many opportunities to clinch a division title and first round bye in the postseason but couldn't seal the deal. Even after missing that chance, they <i>still</i> had repeated opportunities to end on a high note, instead they went 1-5 across six season-defining games to end their season (3 vs the Braves in Atlanta, 3 vs the Padres in NY) with all their top guys healthy. </p><p>Now that the Phillies have snatched the 2022 NL pennant, what's weird in retrospect is that the Mets won 14 of 19 against the Phils this year. They no-hit the Phillies, dominated them, had an epic 7-run comeback in the 9th inning in a game in Philly. And that dominance of the NL pennant winner does not matter. Why? Because the Mets only won 9 of their 19 games against the Braves and that divisional matchup is essentially what determined the final outcome of their whole season. The Mets vs the Braves meant everything in 2022. This was because MLB for the first time in modern history did not have the game 163 tiebreaker to decide division winners, so the head-to-head results meant everything. To have the NL East come down to a tie atop the division in the first season with no game 163 was horrible optics for MLB. Fans were robbed of that opportunity. And yet the Braves' winning the NL east by the smallest of margins was a Pyrrhic victory anyway, since they immediately got knocked out in the first round by the Phillies. </p><p>The postseason chaos on the NL side caused a lot of philosophical contemplation among baseball fans about what playoff baseball is supposed to be exactly. The system in the era of MLB commissioner Rob Manfred's unpopular rule changes seems to have rattled the coherence and meaning of baseball games and outcomes, impacting fans' ability to take the regular season results all that seriously despite baseball having the longest regular season in pro sports. So many teams engage in tanking and a handful of others so steadily stand among the elite that the playoff contenders are practically set in stone before the season begins. It's just a matter of whether they can keep their best players healthy over a six-month slog playing against many teams that have no playoff hopes. In the final weeks when the Mets had a playoff spot clinched but were playing against the Cubs, A's, Nationals, Pirates, I just kept hoping they'd make it thru those games without any major injuries. </p><p>The Mets were fine. Besides the final two weeks, this was the least stressful season for Mets fans to follow that I can ever remember. The 2015 and 2016 Mets made the playoffs and were super exciting teams but both relied on late season surges to make up for a rough start, and both teams had weaknesses that often kept their games at nail-bitingly close margins. The 2006 Mets were a dominant team but they were mostly reliant on a powerful lineup and deep bullpen whereas the rotation was always a little bit shaky. The 2022 Mets hardly had any major weaknesses. </p><p>They got to choose between Max Scherzer and Jacob deGrom to start game 1 of the playoffs and chose Scherzer (probably should've kept with deGrom as their #1 but I won't go into that). Their world-class closer Diaz was healthy, the bullpen was actually pretty solid overall, it felt like there were far fewer late inning meltdowns than ever. The hitters were relatively healthy although all were probably dinged up like Starling Marte who played the final series with a broken finger. The Mets set the MLB record for being hit by pitches and had several close calls with guys getting hit in the face including their two biggest offensive stars Alonso and Lindor who both took heaters to the face during the season, yet both stayed in the lineup all year and into the playoffs. They didn't suffer any of their typical back-of-the-rotation erosions or Jerad Eickhoff-ian sinkholes, instead they regularly ran out a deep pitching staff. </p><p>The one frustrating thing about the 2022 Mets is they stacked up the team in every area except the catching position which has been their biggest weakness and a source of frustration for years now. This weakness has been evident for a while, we all knew it was a problem going into the season, they failed to address it in the offseason or at the trade deadline and it arguably ended up costing them. The fate of the most recent Mets team could conceivably be rooted in their failures to sign an elite catcher back before the 2019 season. At that point, the Mets needed to sign free agent All Star catcher Yasmani Grandal but he signed with Milwaukee instead and had a huge year with them. The following winter the Mets were expected to make a big run at trying to sign All Star catcher J.T. Realmuto but they botched it and he signed with the rival Phillies instead. Losing out on Realmuto was devastating because there was a pretty steep dropoff after Grandal and Realmuto to the rest of the available catchers not only in 2019 but looking ahead. The Mets instead signed James McCann, typically a backup catcher, to a four-year deal worth $40 million.</p><p>Ironically, the 2022 Mets' best catcher Tomás Nido actually had one of the top defensive seasons of any catcher in MLB this year. He might win a Gold Glove. Only problem was his bat was so bad it hurt the team's chances---as a hitter Nido actually had the Mets' lowest Win Probability Added, a metric that reflects game situation, meaning he was at the plate in pivotal moments and failed to get the job done. And the less said about their other catcher James McCann, the better. Overall in 2022, encompassing offensive and defensive value (including pitch-framing stats), the Mets' performance from all of their catchers amounted to 1.2 wins above replacement according to Fangraphs. J.T. Realmuto playing for the Phillies had the best season of his career with 6.5 wins above replacement. The vast difference between Realmuto and the Mets' catching corps is evident in every season since the Mets lost out on signing him. Perhaps more painfully, the Mets did have a catcher of some promise named Travis d'Arnaud who helped lead them to the 2015 NL pennant, but the previous ownership regime rage cut d'Arnaud early in 2019 after he got off to a rough start returning from injury, and d'Arnaud regained his form, went on to win a World Series for the Braves and has regularly tormented his old team since. The Mets ranked 26th in MLB in OPS from the catching position in 2022, the Braves ranked 1st, the Phillies ranked 3rd.</p><p>The Mets developed the top catching prospect in MLB this year, the 20-year-old Francisco Álvarez, but kept holding back from calling him up to the big league team until a moment of desperation before their final series in Atlanta. Álvarez looked overmatched in that series. After that he only got a few at-bats playing in front of the home crowd, but he impressed in limited time, blasting a home run and a double. It shouldn't be overlooked that the Mets had such a potent bat sitting in the minors while the big league club had a gaping offensive hole at the catching and DH positions. Had the Mets given some of Nido, Darin Ruf, or James McCann's September at-bats to Francisco Álvarez instead, maybe this season would've had a different result. </p><p>And so the Mets add another gut-wrenching disappointment to their deep history of such collapses, especially in the 21st century. Observe the results since then:</p><p>2000: won NL pennant, lost winnable WS game 1 and lost Subway Series 4-1<br />2001-2005: missed playoffs for five straight years<br />2006: won NL East title, season ends with gut-wrenching loss in NLCS game 7<br />2007-08: two historically bad end-of-season collapses to miss playoffs<br />2009-2014: missed playoffs for six straight years<br />2015: magical run to win NL pennant, lost winnable WS game 1 and lost Series 4-1<br />2016: won Wild Card spot, lost winnable wild card 1-game playoff at home<br />2017-2021: missed playoffs for five straight years<br />2022: won 101 games, made playoffs, Wild Card loss in first round at home</p><p>Although it did feel like the Mets could've done better in the first round against the Padres had they been more willing to take their starters out of the game at the first sign of trouble (a clearly gassed Scherzer was left in the game too long in game 1, same with Chris Bassitt in game 3), by then the offense had gone into a slump and their fate was sealed. They had succumbed to the usual Mets shit.</p><p>Now that fans have had time to process the disappointing end to an incredible season, I think what we are all hoping for now is that the Mets don't follow up their successes with another extended drought. They've had a pattern. After their 2000 NL pennant, they sucked for a good while. Their 2006 division title seemed the first of many, but was followed by eight seasons of ineptitude and embarrassment. The aftermath of the 2015-16 contending teams was similar. The core of the 2022 Mets has so much promise, but will inevitably look different next year.</p><p>Adding to the disappointment of their late season failure is that much of the team will now disperse because so many guys will become free agents this offseason. It's completely up in the air whether the Mets will re-sign franchise stalwarts like Jacob deGrom, Edwin Diaz, or Brandon Nimmo, let alone solid contributors like Taijuan Walker, Seth Lugo, Trevor May, Chris Bassitt, or Carlos Carrasco. The Mets might look very different next year. They'll have to completely rebuild their relief pitching since almost all of those guys will be on their way out, which will be tough to do after a season when, for once, they had a very good bullpen. It will be an interesting offseason to watch what mega-billionaire owner Steve Cohen decides to do. Not only are lots of key players becoming free agents, but crappy players like McCann and Ruf have guaranteed contracts next year that the Mets really need to figure out how to buy their way out of. Having watched an NL East rival go all the way to the World Series yet again, it's possible Steve Cohen gets mad and just dumps piles of money into the team for a turbo-boost. Regardless, the 2022 season has taught us that regular season success offers no guarantees for the short series playoffs. This was the best Mets team I've ever watched in my life and their season ended in a snap. </p>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-54234220574362492262022-07-16T21:54:00.011-05:002022-11-05T11:35:27.964-05:00Several Short Videos of the Sea from my iPhone<p>Back in the landlocked capital of Texas in Austin at the height of summer, I'm missing the ocean. Scanning through several videos of the sea taken recently from my phone. </p><p>New York Harbor from the Staten Island Ferry with accompanying coastguard gunboat.<br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="668" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_YWc7aN0c1k" title="" width="376"></iframe>
<br /></p><p><br /><br /><br />A Staten Island Beach in the wintertime.<br />
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</p><p><br />In Dublin, Ireland looking out at the Irish Sea from atop the Martello Tower Joyce museum in Sandycove.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="668" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9sFNNVIV2m4" title="" width="376"></iframe></p><p><br /><br /><br />The Cliffs of Moher in County Clare, western coast of Ireland.<br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="668" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vUE3MwnieXk" title="" width="376"></iframe><br /><br /><br />The Burren in County Clare, western coast of Ireland.<br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="668" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/JYpxIG1DDQQ" title="" width="376"></iframe><br /><br /><br />View from Vico and Sorrento, Dalkey, county Dublin, Ireland.<br />
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<br /><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>The Giant's Causeway and the rough Atlantic Ocean in County Antrim, Northern Ireland.</p><p>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="668" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5I4tC1XZ_54" title="" width="376"></iframe><br /><br /></p><blockquote><p><br /></p></blockquote><p>The pristine sparkling blue Mediterranean outside of Marseille in Côte d'Azur, France. <br /><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="668" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0yV-DUAcggQ" title="" width="376"></iframe><br /><br /></p><p>Me swimming in the Mediterranean at a beach in Cannes, Côte d'Azur, France. <br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="627" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/eNuDU_w5TgI" title="" width="470"></iframe>
</p><p><br /></p><p><br />Off the coast of Massachusetts, Vineyard Ferry cruising along Atlantic Ocean.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="627" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/3bhQDA446wg" title="" width="440"></iframe></p><p><br />The boat ride from Dalkey Island, Ireland.<br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="668" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-VL0tpEZGv8" title="" width="376"></iframe> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><blockquote><p><b>"There you stand, lost in the infinite series of the sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves. The tranced ship indolently rolls; the drowsy trade winds blow; everything resolves you into languor"</b> (Melville, <i>Moby-Dick, </i>p. 160)</p></blockquote><blockquote><p><b>"the blending cadence of waves with thoughts" </b> (<i>Moby-Dick</i>, p. 163)</p></blockquote><p><b></b></p><blockquote><p><b>"Melville thought the names of all fine authors were fictitious because they stood for the ubiquitous and magic spirit of all Beauty. Keats asked to have HERE LIES ONE WHOSE NAME WAS WRIT IN WATER carved on his gravestone." </b><br /> (Susan Howe, <i>The Quarry</i>, p. 192)</p><p><br /><b>"The beginning of man was salt sea, and the perpetual reverberation of that great ancient fact, constantly renewed in the unfolding of life in every human individual, is the important single fact about Melville. Pelagic."</b> </p></blockquote><blockquote><p><b>[<i>Pelagic</i> (adj.): relating to or living in open sea]</b><br /> (from Charles Olson, <i>Call Me Ishmael</i>, quoted in Susan Howe, <i>The Quarry</i>, p. 192) </p></blockquote><p><b></b></p><blockquote><b>"Looking at the waves scudding outwards and getting lost on the horizon, [Heisenberg] could not help but recall the words of his mentor, the Danish physicist Niels Bohr, who had once told him that a part of eternity lies in reach of those capable of staring, unblinking, at the sea's deranging expanses." </b><br />(Benjamin Labatut, <i>When We Cease to Understand the World</i>, p. 96)</blockquote><p><br /></p><p> <a href="https://finwakeatx.blogspot.com/2022/07/wave-words-in-wake.html" target="_blank">Next</a> </p><p></p><p><b></b></p>
PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-7983375065285361332022-07-02T12:26:00.005-05:002022-10-24T21:50:01.819-05:00ReBuilding and Re: Recent Roamings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqA8ZLSwl8XN3X-KJWGiiaCba6OoC2Yq33mirNi3y6mdf3c4UbOgupiEM8IB7FA1HmE4KOKpMN0eAbpQ-4iYb1_V1hy8WTzM1RSS8SGGyx6DNZNnUT8XwyFMCIW9xCgViXBfJSjBi8aTwFeZ7u72zJO82xBJdr8IhzJj93AeUySsBGe-GZYUzAwdI1/s1444/Screen%20Shot%202022-04-17%20at%209.31.09%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1444" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqA8ZLSwl8XN3X-KJWGiiaCba6OoC2Yq33mirNi3y6mdf3c4UbOgupiEM8IB7FA1HmE4KOKpMN0eAbpQ-4iYb1_V1hy8WTzM1RSS8SGGyx6DNZNnUT8XwyFMCIW9xCgViXBfJSjBi8aTwFeZ7u72zJO82xBJdr8IhzJj93AeUySsBGe-GZYUzAwdI1/w474-h640/Screen%20Shot%202022-04-17%20at%209.31.09%20PM.png" width="474" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><b>"The Hut" <br />by Fanny Howe</b></p><p><span>Up the hill is a hut made of sound<br />where two windows rhyme<br />and the tiles stay on<br />because they are nailed to a dream.<br />The dreamer wonders: Can this be mine?<br /></span></p><p><span>The floor is solid and straight<br />and is amber from sap.<br />The walls don't leak or let out heat<br />from gray embers in the grate.</span></p><p><span>This is the original home<br />at the heart of brutalist design.<br />No storm can slam its shape apart.<br />No thief can carry it off.<br />It dwells in ashen buildings where the present sleeps.</span></p><p><span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;">* * *</p><p>This blog has been dormant for a while. I'm going to try to bring some life back to it. In my last post here, more than six months ago, I talked about having gone on a self-driven path of deconstructing my life and embarking out into the unknown for a while. For seven months I lived a nomadic existence, traveling around many countries and cities, staying as a guest in various friends' houses, hotels, Airbnbs, and an extended stay with family in Staten Island and Brooklyn. The trip sprung from, among other things, a yearning to plunge into the unfamiliar, test my luck, and experience the world after so many months in lockdown during the pandemic. In the aftermath of that extended nomadic period, I tallied up these numbers: in the lockdown year 2020 I slept in three different beds all year (the bed at my house and a couple places I stayed at during a roadtrip to Colorado) whereas in the last calendar year now I slept in more than 40 different beds in at least fifteen different cities in six countries.</p><p>While bouncing across so many places and living out of a suitcase for so long, I got into thinking about the feeling of and the meaning of home. Found myself thinking often about Gaston Bachelard's book, <i>The Poetics of Space. </i>Bachelard wrote, "A house constitutes a body of images that give mankind proofs or illusions of stability." (p. 38) Some houses grant illusions or proofs of stability better than others. I stayed in a few dumps and at least one badly insulated space during a couple weeks of frigid temps. I stayed in a sprawling mansion in Ireland where I didn't feel comfortable because of an unwelcoming host, I also stayed in a repurposed 19th-century military barracks in Ireland, a Martello Tower made of stone that felt extremely comfortable because of the generosity of the hosts. I stayed in a garage attic apartment in Texas where time stood still and I stayed in a barn in Texas where the metal-roof resonated from a heavy hail storm. The constant moving from one place to the next felt like a recapitulation of earlier departures from shells in my life---leaving my parents' house at age 21 to move to the other side of the country, years later leaving southern California to come to Austin where I'd never been before but have now resided for 11 years. Each time felt like a crab leaving its shell to seek out a better one (my sun sign is Cancer the crab). </p><p><b>"The atmosphere is nailed together.</b></p><p><b>Limb marking threshold.<br /><br />Each element struggles to <br />make threat subservient<br />to shelter."</b><br />- from "Doorway" by Elizabeth Robinson</p><p><b>"I dreamed of a nest in which the trees repulsed death" </b><br />- from Bachelard, <i>Poetics of Space </i>(p. 123)</p><p>During the height of winter I was living back at my parents' house in Staten Island by myself (they'd gone to Florida to escape the cold). With the recent memories of so many different homes and rooms in various places, I was centered back there at the home where I grew up and had first conceived of the concept of home. Bachelard in <i>The Poetics of Space</i> says, "In short, the house we were born in has engraved within us the hierarchy of the various functions of inhabiting." (p. 36) As much as I despise being in Staten Island, my old house still feels like home. The city is so crowded, the people are so angry, it seemed every time I went out someplace I had a hostile altercation with somebody, but the old house still feels like home and it feeds some inner craving for peace of mind when I'm there. </p><p>Here's Bachelard again: <br />"The house we were born in is more than an embodiment of home, it is also an embodiment of dreams. Each one of its nooks and corners was a resting-place for daydreaming. And often the resting-place particularized the daydream. Our habits of a particular daydream were acquired there." (p. 37)</p><p>I've always been a homebody and my personal growth has involved breaking out of those habits to go far out into the unknown and find my way, find how I can build a new center of peace in the unfamiliar. As a kid I must have spent lots of time in the nooks and corners of my house daydreaming, but I could never have imagined the adventures that would ensue. Roadtrips spanning the width of the North American continent, piloting boats along the waters of the Mediterranean in the South of France, expeditions along the rocky coastline of Ireland, bike rides speeding through the alleyways of Barcelona, panoramic views from the hills of Lisbon, late nights partying in the village squares of Antwerp, connecting with the sky gods while perched atop the Pyramid of the Sun looking down the Avenue of the Dead in Teotihuacán far out in the desert outside Mexico City. </p><p>When I was a kid I loathed having to go on family trips out to New Jersey to visit my grandma because the open spaces and relatively rural vibes of Jersey made me uneasy. I needed NYC's clusterfuck of intersections and delis and pizzerias on every block. That's what made me comfortable. Now I once again live in the middle of Texas where the city center is equidistant to me as farmlands with cows, my neighbor's yard has a friendly goat, and too much time spent in the crowded and cranky NYC boroughs drives me nuts. </p><p>Rebecca Solnit in her book<i> A Field Guide to Getting Lost</i> writes: "Some people inherit values and practices as a house they inhabit; some of us have to burn down that house, find our own ground, build from scratch, even as a psychological metamorphosis." (p. 80) This was the process I went through as a young adult. And again years later, after I'd established a home over several years living in Austin which no longer felt satisfying, I underwent the same process again. Burned it all down to start over from scratch. Ashes make great fertilizer. The past year has been full of big changes and very little stability, it has not been easy but it has definitely been enriching. Again quoting Solnit, "he ceased to be lost not by returning but by turning into something else." (p. 71)</p><p>Spending such extended time staying within the hospitality industry (hotels and Airbnbs etc) you start to gain a deeper appreciation for little things that make a place feel like home and how a place becomes a home over time. Living transiently also affords one a chance to cut things down to basics, carrying around only what you need. Most of my belongings including my entire library, all my art, and most of my clothes were locked up in storage the whole time. I had a consolidated wardrobe, compact but versatile enough for different climates. I mainly carried around only the books with the highest ratio of insight and lexical originality-per-page, which I had decided are these two: <i>Finnegans Wake</i> by James Joyce and the epic poem <i>ARK</i> by Ronald Johnson. Those came with me everywhere. </p><p>During my time in Europe I also read two nonfiction books by Nicholson Baker, <i>Human Smoke: The Beginnings of World War II, The End of Civilization </i>on the immediate developments that led to WW2 and also his most recent book <i>Baseless: My Search for Secrets in the Ruins of the Freedom of Information Act,</i> about the secret history of US military involvement with biological and chemical warfare. Both were timely and highly informative reads, and Baker's prose style is so easily digestible. The newer book <i>Baseless</i> felt like a sequel to <i>Human Smoke</i>, though at least with <i>Baseless</i> Baker regularly breaks up the revelations of dark and deeply upsetting information with simple and grounding stories about his dogs and domestic life. On the other hand, the cold facts and details of mass killings of Jews by the Nazis in <i>Human Smoke</i> seared my brain to a degree that I am forever horrified by it. I had to hide <i>Human Smoke</i> when I wasn't reading it because just looking at that book put a bad feeling in my gut.</p><p>This material was fresh in my mind as I rode around on trains and planes across Europe, looking at the scenery and thinking about the purpose of life, how flimsy and fragile it seems, how long the land outlasts us, how we should soak it all in and enjoy life while we can. Ultimately I thought of how sick and fucked up so much of mankind has always been with twisted ideology and racist hate. The same struggles for power, wars against tyrants, recur in cycles over centuries. How the endurance of hope persists despite it all. How we are all just looking for a place to call home, a shell within which we can grow and feel at peace. </p>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-56012916995129227642021-12-05T14:14:00.008-06:002022-10-29T12:47:47.596-05:00The Sacrifice <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4z5CH6rjAqwNIP3iNbQgB_UQ8gC1At1R_iPuOfgv856RC1-Zs2wxA6C-F1ONJtGymGgSya5Dfpf9mmLnq6vBt8IKBY62Q2wrWfaZq5el_QAaJH4i6zrtEPwQ80hERJJfn1QuNpkwQqo/s1000/sacrifice--tarkovsky.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="625" data-original-width="1000" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4z5CH6rjAqwNIP3iNbQgB_UQ8gC1At1R_iPuOfgv856RC1-Zs2wxA6C-F1ONJtGymGgSya5Dfpf9mmLnq6vBt8IKBY62Q2wrWfaZq5el_QAaJH4i6zrtEPwQ80hERJJfn1QuNpkwQqo/w400-h250/sacrifice--tarkovsky.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div><div>"Had to sacrifice all to earn favor" </div><div><span><span> </span><span> </span> </span>- Ka, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8MN_UDZ1XDU" target="_blank">"Eye of a Needle"</a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>One night back in March of this year, I was struck by a vision about sacrifice. I was laying in a hammock in my backyard, looking up at the stars. Soaking in the pleasures and privileges of my existence, appreciating my comforts yet realizing that I was not at all satisfied with my life, I was aching for something new. </div><div><br /></div><div>At that point, I had accumulated everything I could have ever wanted in life---I owned a house on a nice big piece of property, with a canopy provided by a dozen oak trees, the property peppered with colorful flowers and paddle cactus plants, succulents, and a big vegetable garden. The backyard was renovated, spacious, peaceful, comfortable. Inside the house I had a library full of books, walls covered with art, comfy couches to sit and read on, a fireplace to sit next to with my dog, and a desk to do my writing. I had a big, playful puppy, a pittie-German shepherd mix who always kept me feeling safe, whose energy always brought me joy. And I had a woman who I'd been with for many years, been to hell and back with. I had all of that and yet I felt completely unsatisfied with this life, felt myself becoming obsessed with a new craving for adventure and exploring the unknown. I was feeling like the creative energies in my life had become dulled and dormant. Felt like my life and whatever youth I had left, was slipping away day by day. I'd been depressed for a while after three of my friends passed away unexpectedly during the pandemic lockdown. Then that night in March, I started thinking about Tarkovsky's 1986 movie <i>The Sacrifice</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div>I had seen <i>The Sacrifice</i> a couple years prior when a friend, who's a devoted scholar of Tarkovsky, brought me to a screening at the Austin Film Society. I remember being totally awed by the film's visionary qualities, impacted by the scenes of the house rattling from warplanes overhead, the scenes of stillness and nature and especially the famous scene of the burning house. But after seeing the film I didn't have much of any appreciation for what it <i>meant</i>, what it was conveying. That is, until that night back in March when I was overwhelmed with thoughts about the meaning and importance of sacrifice. I started replaying scenes from the film in my head and I read synopses online and I realized that the main character was stricken by a feeling that the world was out of joint, that he needed to sacrifice everything he loved in order to restore peace. I started dwelling on the meaning of sacrifice---as in, a sacrifice to God or to the gods or to the universe, in order to earn favor and fortune and restore creative energies. To bring balance to the universe. The more I dwelled on it, the more it made literal sense to me. The notion of sacrificing what you love, renouncing possessions, giving up what makes you feel secure and comfortable in order to, in some symbolic way, <i>feed the creative fires</i> of the universe---this mythical, primitive idea suddenly made sense to me on a deeply personal level. The meaning of sacrifice felt real. </div><div><br /></div><div>That night I realized the only way I could fix my aching depression and dissatisfaction with life was to dismantle and demolish the life I had built, to sacrifice it all and plunge into the unknown with the faith that things would all work out for the better, that the creative energies of my universe would be restored by my sacrifice and guide me to a new, more fulfilling life. This was a terrifying realization because it meant I would need to give up everything that made me feel secure and comfortable. I would have to endure the suffering of separation from what I had become attached to, which was a feeling of security. For ten years I'd been living in tiny apartments until finally I'd been able to buy a nice big house, then over several years we invested so much work and energy into the house to make it comfortable. Then we added the big puppy dog into the mix and the house became his home too. And now I had reached the realization with certainty that I needed to give all that up to go seek happiness in the unknown. I knew then that to restore balance in my life I needed to sacrifice everything that made me feel secure to instead go off alone, in Joyce's phrase "wandering among the snares of the world." I had to destroy the life I had built so I could eventually rebuild my life in a better way. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">* * *</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div>"As soon as I emerged from a self-made prison</div><div>My own ambitions made way for the decision of a lifetime, of a lifetime</div><div>It ain't sit right with me that I might die</div><div>No, I can't go, I got work to do</div><div>The never-ending life cycle, how a circle do</div><div>This is personal</div><div>This is personal"</div></div><div><span> </span><span> </span><br /></div><div><span><span> <span> <span> </span><span> </span> - Navy Blue, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KoY2xRjiwNI" target="_blank">"Light"</a></span></span><br /></span></div><div><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div>During the peak of the pandemic lockdown, some of my friends died unexpectedly. I wrote <a href="https://www.abuildingroam.com/2021/02/life-and-death-during-pandemic-era.html" target="_blank">about this</a> earlier this year. Adding to the pain of those sudden losses was being unable to process their deaths properly with any sort of wake or gathering to memorialize them. The shock of those deaths made an impact on me that eventually changed my life. I found it especially difficult to process the death of my old friend and coworker Scott who was the same age as me and had been in good health, only to be found dead in his apartment one night in late October 2020. After that I began to develop a craving to get out and see the world, to go try and fulfill my dreams and dream big, to no longer defer any of my ambitions into the future but to try and live life <i>now </i>since it had become abundantly clear to me that I could die at any moment. Scott was a deep philosophical thinker, a passionate mind with a love for literature. We often talked about life and death, he loved getting into heavy discussions. Feeling a bit of guilt over his sudden death, I also developed an ambition to live big and embark on exciting adventures in his honor. He (along with many other friends of mine) had insisted for years that I go visit Ireland because of my love of James Joyce's art and because Scott had been there once before and felt it was a special place. So, when I was at the beginning of my recent overseas adventure and found myself getting drunk on whiskey while hanging inside a stone tower built in 1804 on the coast of Dublin, I was toasting to Scott and communing with his spirit. </div><div><br /></div><div>A recent NYRB <a href="https://www.nybooks.com/articles/2021/07/01/dostoevsky-and-his-demons/" target="_blank">article</a> about Dostoyevsky discusses how the Russian novelist was sentenced to a Siberian prison camp as a political prisoner and while he was there, was the victim of a "mock execution." He and the other prisoners were condemned to death, given their last rites, taken outside to face a firing squad, and at the very last possible moment the execution was called off. Some of his fellow prisoners went insane in reaction to this and never recovered while Dostoyevsky went on to compose some of the most profound novels ever written. One of his biographers posits that the experience of the mock execution left Dostoyevsky "with a completely different view of time and ethics, which Frank calls 'eschatological [apocalyptic] apprehension.' Dostoevsky concluded, he says, that 'every instant takes on a supreme value,' and 'each moment of the present is when a decisive choice has to be made.'" Although I did not experience anything nearly as harrowing as Dostoyevsky, the death of some people close to me left me with a similar feeling about the importance of each instant. I became increasingly uneasy about wasting time. I felt whatever youth I had left was being wasted in the exceedingly comfortable yet quiet existence I was living at my nice house with my ex-girlfriend and my dog. I was consumed by an urgent need to get out and experience the world. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I made the decision to give up everything I had, to downsize my existence, donate or sell off most of my things and place all my books into storage, pack up a couple suitcases and go off into the world. Originally I planned to drive around the United States visiting everyone I know in different states, but once I was out of the house and away from my dog I found it too painful to be anywhere near my old place, so I decided to go faraway and flew overseas to Ireland. There I was blessed to meet a Brazilian girl, a lawyer and a deep, passionate thinker who I connected with on a level that made it seem like she'd known me for a long time. Eventually she brought me to meet some of her extended family in the South of France and it became one of the most incredible adventures of my life. When I was dismantling my previous existence, moving out of the house and putting all my stuff into storage, I felt a strong sense all of that, even though it was painful and difficult, was just a preparation for a future more exciting than anything I'd previously conceived of. Months later, when I was zooming around the Mediterranean Sea in a boat with Brazilians, diving off the boat into pristine waters off the coast of a small town near Marseilles, floating in the sea, drinking lots of champagne, staying in a penthouse in Cannes, visiting the Picasso Museum in a 14th century castle in Antibes, driving through the mountains of southern France, drinking the best wine in the world and eating like a king at a restaurant in a small French town on some Anthony Bourdain shit, I knew then that my earlier visions and realizations about sacrifice were meaningful and important. I knew that my premonitions about taking a daring leap into the unknown had manifested, my determination had paid off. My new future was being constructed and it was indeed more incredible than anything I'd ever imagined. </div><div><br /></div><div>While the process has already been rewarding, none of this has been easy. I'm having to figure things out week to week. As I write this, my latest European adventure has recently concluded, I went to six countries in a span of eight weeks and had enough amazing experiences to write about and talk about for the rest of my life. But now I'm back in Staten Island, NY, staying at the house I grew up in, sleeping in the same bedroom I was in since I was an infant. Maybe in some way I'm connecting with my inner child and healing some old wounds. Above all I'm trying to recompose myself and plot a new future while continuing to heal from past loss. I know the pandemic era has been difficult for many people and that my deconstructing of my life to build something new is part of a larger pattern in which many people are quitting their jobs or getting divorced and going off into something new. For anyone who's suffering, I hope you can feel inspired to hold on and to be brave and to grasp at your dreams. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6OrofA5U-lY" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-31193058289912170372021-04-29T21:56:00.002-05:002021-05-06T22:52:20.233-05:00Baseball in the Works of the Poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti (1919-2021)<p>The American poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti passed away in March 2021 just a few weeks shy of reaching his 102nd birthday. Last year I wrote about Ferlinghetti in a few places: the <i>James Joyce Quarterly</i> published my <a href="https://muse.jhu.edu/article/773343" target="_blank">review</a> of Ferlinghetti's final book, I also wrote about Ferlinghetti and Joyce at my <a href="https://finwakeatx.blogspot.com/2020/03/joyce-fw-references-in-ferlinghettis.html" target="_blank">other blog</a>, then I wrote <a href="https://www.abuildingroam.com/2020/11/new-article-in-james-joyce-quarterly-on.html" target="_blank">more</a> about Ferlinghetti and his incredible final book on this blog.</p><p>April is both National Poetry Month and the opening month of the baseball season, so as April comes to a close I'm going to pay tribute to the late poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti by looking at how he wrote about baseball in his works. Ferlinghetti grew up in Yonkers, New York (located right above Manhattan Island) and after spanning the globe on manifold adventures he settled in San Francisco right around the time the Giants baseball team moved their home base from the Polo Grounds in upper Manhattan out to the Bay Area of San Francisco. Reading through Ferlinghetti's books, one gets the impression that baseball was a ubiquitous aspect of his life. His writings on baseball also tend to intersect with his political diatribes, proving once again that you cannot separate baseball from politics in <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2021/04/09/mlb-moved-all-star-game-protest-georgias-new-voting-law-heres-what-that-says-about-democracy/" target="_blank">America</a>.</p><p>Ferlinghetti's "Baseball Canto" (1972) is the most well-known of his writings on baseball. You can listen to him reciting the poem in the video below. American history and its manifestations in present day contexts often figures into the works of Ferlinghetti. His perspective was that of a fiercely dissident poet yet he was also a WW2 vet who commanded a ship at D-Day in 1944 and later turned into a staunch pacifist following his <a href="https://youtu.be/Qw5Rm2meA9U?t=129" target="_blank">visit</a> to Nagasaki in late 1945. His "Baseball Canto" foregrounds what truly makes America great, its diversity and inclusiveness, but for Ferlinghetti the gameplay on the field finds metaphorical resonance with the struggles of marginalized people for empowerment and freedom within what he calls "the Anglo-Saxon tradition." Themes of racism, colonialism, and exploitative capitalism are observable in the poem. The umpires become Irish cops overseeing the action. He envisions Willie Mays as "a footrunner from Thebes." Tito Fuentes becomes a bullfighter being cheered by the Latinos in the stands. Sort of ironically, the poet is reading Ezra Pound's <i>Cantos </i>while sitting in the stands. Ferlinghetti's "Baseball Canto" opens this way:</p><p></p><blockquote>Watching baseball, sitting in the sun, eating popcorn,<br />reading Ezra Pound,<br />and wishing that Juan Marichal would hit a hole right through the<br />Anglo-Saxon tradition in the first Canto<br />and demolish the barbarian invaders.</blockquote><p></p><p>
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</p><p><br /></p><p>Ferlinghetti once published a bizarre little book called <i>Tyrannus Nix? </i>(New Directions, 1969)<i> </i>where the text is presented in the poet's own handwriting with minimal punctuation. A satirical work, <i>Tyrannus Nix? </i>deploys baseball metaphors to mock and satirize then-president Richard M. Nixon. "Nixon Nixon I'm singing you this baseball Diamond Sutra from way out here in New Left Field in the International League." Nixon was from Whittier, California and Ferlinghetti writes: <br /></p><blockquote>This is one national sport we hope is on the way out The Whittier White Sox we hope are all washed up It's time for a new umpire and a new Hall of Fame Throw out a new ball and a new uniform and a new flag too while you're at it and make the flag green this time instead of bloody red and black-and-blue (p. 7-8)</blockquote><p></p><p>Later in <i>Tyrannus Nix?</i> Ferlinghetti observes, "things are really tightening up out here And there's no relief in sight for you or us although it occurs to me that we are your relief if you'd only admit it." (p. 12) He determines Nixon to be a pitcher wearing a mask and throwing with a deceptive delivery: "But I never saw a pitcher with a mask before What've you got under it That's what I've been trying to fathom ever since they brought you up from the minors Did you learn that windup with the Whittier Quakers It's the most deceptive ever seen in a World Series a windup that gives away nothing and telegraphs nothing so that nobody still knows what's coming We hope not a fast change-up One wild pitch and you've blown it Your windup is so weird." (p. 13-14)</p>
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p dir="ltr" lang="en">Glad I picked this up. In 1969 Ferlinghetti wrote a book attacking and satirizing Nixon called “Tyrannus Nix?” Text is presented in Ferlinghetti’s own handwriting. The writing is loaded with baseball metaphors <a href="https://t.co/9IHkqeB5GD">pic.twitter.com/9IHkqeB5GD</a></p>— pq (@PQuadrino) <a href="https://twitter.com/PQuadrino/status/1364356315359809538?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">February 23, 2021</a></blockquote><p><br /></p><p>I would not consider <i>Tyrannus Nix?</i> among Ferlinghetti's best books, it feels dated and many of the jokes fall flat, but as a time capsule and example of the prominence of baseball in Ferlinghetti's work it's kinda cool. It's also an especially polemical display of Ferlinghetti's attitude about the poet's role in society, from the same guy who went on to publish the handbook <i><a href="https://poets.org/poem/poetry-insurgent-art-i-am-signaling-you-through-flames" target="_blank">Poetry as Insurgent Art</a></i> (2007). Ferlinghetti also wrote a two-part epic poem on the history of America, the second part of which is surely one of his best books. In that book, called <i>Time of Useful Consciousness (Americus, Book II) </i>(New Directions, 2012), he quotes this line from the poet Philip Lamantia: "Baseballs lost among the Pleiades (quoth Lamantia)." (p. 7) Ferlinghetti made no bones about taking lines from other poets, many of his writings are loaded with literary allusions and borrowed phrases, he liked to celebrate that TS Eliot or Pound tradition of poetry, "summarizing the past by theft and allusion" he called it. Some of his books have helpful notes in the back with sources for these allusions. His last book, <i>Little Boy: A Novel </i>(2019), is filled with literary references but does not have any footnotes. I'm hoping there will eventually be an annotated edition of the book, but some lines are identifiable via Google, especially when he provided them in quotes. One that sticks out to me is this sequence from the poem "Truth" by John Masefield which he immediately follows with a baseball reference:</p><blockquote><p><b>"Man with his burning soul has but an hour of breath to build a ship of Truth in which his soul may sail---sail on the sea of death for death takes toll of beauty, courage, youth, of all but Truth" and it's three strikes and you're out at the Old Ball Game</b> </p></blockquote><blockquote><p>(<i>Little Boy</i>, p. 122)</p></blockquote><p></p><p><i>Little Boy: A Novel</i> contains numerous baseball references, everything seems to return back to baseball. It was his final book and seemingly all the major themes of his previous works are gathered in <i>Little Boy</i>, a densely-packed word-hoard that goes into American history, his own life story, with lyrical escapes into mystical contemplation of the cosmos and the precariousness of life in our present existence on Earth. The latter half of the book often reads like Ferlinghetti's mind swings on a pendulum between despair over the dark state of affairs and ecstasies of blissful poetry about life. Somehow these oscillations often seem to involve baseball. For example, on p. 150 he wonders: </p><p></p><blockquote>And so why am I watching baseball to escape the pain or ecstasy of existence and the Reds are beating the Yankees and should I be happy It's all relative and life depends on the simplest things to yield a crop of happiness as if it were something you could harvest (p. 150)</blockquote><p></p><p>Despair and happiness waver back and forth. One beautiful sequence on pgs 154-155 revels in "the jet streams of light in the upper air of the spirit of man in the outer space inside us Endless rubaiyats and endless beatitudes endless shangri-las endless nirvanas sutras and mantras satoris and sensaras Bodhiramas and Boddhisatvas karmas and karmapas! Endless singing Shivas dancing on the smoking wombs of ecstasy!" and so on and on until just a few lines later his perspective again shifts. It seems like he remembers who the president was at that moment (the same president who was <a href="https://www.npr.org/2019/10/28/774044200/lock-him-up-trump-greeted-with-boos-and-jeers-at-world-series-game" target="_blank">booed at the World Series</a>) and suddenly he's back to thinking about baseball:</p><p></p><blockquote>and the Man without Shoulders who can't lift his weight in butterflies is now in charge of the world And is there any reason to watch the World Series on TV while this is going on as if the fate of the world were on the Men with Shoulders out there on the Field of Dreams as if a bases-loaded home run could change the fate of the spinning world spinning with a curveball or one-hundred-mile-an-hour fastball to wipe out our enemies and save the world from whatever Yeah play the 'Star-Spangled Banner" and sing about "bombs bursting in air" to show "our flag was still there" </blockquote><blockquote>(p. 155-156)</blockquote><p><br /></p><p>Later towards the end of <i>Little Boy</i>, there's a dream sequence presented in italics where the poet drifts off into the depths of memory in search of his earliest moments of consciousness, seeking the roots of his existence, the exact place where he was born. The book is partly about Ferlinghetti's difficult childhood, he basically grew up as an orphan who bounced around different homes and never truly had a family. In this dream sequence he's simultaneously dreaming of going to and recalling when he physically went back to find the house where he was born, the address on his birth certificate, a house located just north of Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx. The tiny details recalled of life in that house at that time then summon up more vivid memories:</p><p></p><blockquote><i>All at once, an incredible overflowing feeling of happiness surges up from nowhere. Born here!. . . some three hundred yards north of the northwest corner of Van Cortlandt Park. It must have been all country back then. The kids must have played ball in this green park with its worn diamond and its ancient rusted screen behind the batter's box. I can hear the bat hit the ball (perhaps pitched by Pop). And my brother running for first base ended up in Baltimore forty years later . . . Shouts and laughter tears and whispers fill the air</i>. (p. 174)</blockquote><p></p><p></p><p><i>Little Boy: A Novel </i>is so many things at once, a perfect culmination for Ferlinghetti's prolific career as a poet. It's really more of an epic poem in prose than a novel, plus it's sort of an autobiography. In a flourish of wordplay on page 119, Ferlinghetti describes his project this way: "I unlock my word-hoard of ruminations meditations exhortations celebrations condemnations excitations lamentations liberations and ecstasies plotless as a life." The one precursor to the style of <i>Little Boy</i> (2019) was the novel Ferlinghetti published almost <i>sixty</i> years prior called <i>Her</i> (1960), a plotless word-stream of prose wherein the reader swims from one dream vision to the next, following Ferlinghetti in search of his soul or his muse or his <i>anima</i>. Just as in <i>Little Boy</i>, the visions of the poet veer into baseball themes:</p><p></p><blockquote>Perhaps I was merely a dumb member of the audience strayed onto the stage by mistake, looking for some printed program he had dropped under a seat. I had somewhere dropped the key that explained the action, and one could not tell the players without a program, for the faces interchanged, fused together. There they moved on their dark illuminated field, playing their curious night-game, bounding after stray balls, winding their pitches on grassless mounds, or squatting behind a batter in their tools of ignorance. I was a world's catcher, I crouched there, wearing my tools, a fat receiver. I received signals, sent out signals to others, squatting with a signal fingers hanging down between my legs, crooking a penis finger now and then, calling someone in. They all moved too far out, other figures ran, white celluloid shadows, as in a strip of film held up to a light, and the film running away with them. I could not catch them, and they ran off through the streets of the world, until only one figure was left, a white clay figure I had started with, who might have been myself. It was not. It was a her. (<i>Her</i>, p. 10-11)</blockquote><p></p> <script async="" charset="utf-8" src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-21645227526624813612021-04-03T14:07:00.003-05:002021-04-04T00:35:22.000-05:00The Hypnotic Mountainscapes of Nicholas Roerich<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1Wn6fpBIba6WQ_rh3GBlgNo32UUWGAujwg9IUdxNlbXDYVyN2cNJIvFFsSTBZf7cxwu_Jco2UejtLXGMOIV1fd2P8PduYn160Ohd6chD-7iFTNsFiS0IMA14ZYwDvI9XuUXcmj06Ddk/s655/Hewhohastens.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="655" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1Wn6fpBIba6WQ_rh3GBlgNo32UUWGAujwg9IUdxNlbXDYVyN2cNJIvFFsSTBZf7cxwu_Jco2UejtLXGMOIV1fd2P8PduYn160Ohd6chD-7iFTNsFiS0IMA14ZYwDvI9XuUXcmj06Ddk/w400-h305/Hewhohastens.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>He Who Hastens</i> (1924) Nicholas Roerich</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p><p>Nicholas Roerich (1874-1947) was a Russian symbolist painter, and a writer, archeologist, philosopher, spiritualist who was born in Saint Petersburg. He developed a deep interest in hypnosis and other spiritual practices and his paintings are known to sometimes induce a hypnotic effect. This past year, when needing to center my focus and un-distract myself, I've spent a lot of time staring at some of Roerich's landscape paintings. He definitely had a knack for capturing the essence of being up in the ethereal realms of high altitude mountains. Last September, we took a road-trip from Austin, TX up to Breckenridge, Colorado and stayed in a cabin situated way high up in the peaks. I'd been to Colorado before but never spent so much time at such high altitude (nearly 10,000 ft). There's a distinct vibe up there and every moment of the daytime it seems there's a unique shade and texture of light reflecting off the mountains that surround you. Staring at Roerich's paintings takes me back there to that quiet sense of tranquility and the mindfulness summoned by staring at the light hitting the mountainside.</p><p>At one point in his life, Nicholas Roerich was convinced he was receiving psychic messages from beings living in the Himalayas. So he gathered a crew and set out on multiple harrowing excursions into the Himalayan mountains, where he presumably did a lot of painting while also seeking out the Tibetan Buddhist monks. Read more about Roerich at his <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicholas_Roerich" target="_blank">Wikipedia page</a>. He's got a really interesting backstory, but besides that I've been enjoying spending time staring at his incredible mountainscapes. There's definitely a meditative effect about them. See more of Roerich's paintings <a href="https://nicholasroerich.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">here</a>.</p><p>Here are some of my favorites:</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjwAkfcr8-uTaYI40xSqApKgNB8AzhkBjwL4S4gWm2ZTBw9LWWHD-bp_CxHECRqpqP8WsS35pq8wMjllN0tN56FYb5Tok2L7fScRmaKFEiwldW1a7XJvaOofJvaOSppYTnpw2hco0Npo/s829/Roerich5.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="829" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjwAkfcr8-uTaYI40xSqApKgNB8AzhkBjwL4S4gWm2ZTBw9LWWHD-bp_CxHECRqpqP8WsS35pq8wMjllN0tN56FYb5Tok2L7fScRmaKFEiwldW1a7XJvaOofJvaOSppYTnpw2hco0Npo/w400-h241/Roerich5.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Hunt</i> (1937)<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK_k3nKNw7-YDIAo8fYUSibFWnjnHbcDaSXr-4aKzbTvdDf9rThUpDibSEbJDvmPb3-lVzz7wvt7ZnaRKfQmuECUekiAYPShsfbPbtV45N6yDyuewsZS3ACwZdR5eiipFNEnsTncIBwjE/s664/Roerich4.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="664" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK_k3nKNw7-YDIAo8fYUSibFWnjnHbcDaSXr-4aKzbTvdDf9rThUpDibSEbJDvmPb3-lVzz7wvt7ZnaRKfQmuECUekiAYPShsfbPbtV45N6yDyuewsZS3ACwZdR5eiipFNEnsTncIBwjE/w400-h301/Roerich4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Way to Tibet</i> (1925)<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6v9Qp2fhNpF-WI2L1RLjF2otmkNf8cECZYDZF6AKA0knWX0Nj39XdKvOvQSidWbHNgADFQR-4qedbNQJ3pLrCxLZi2jeukBDSQRMqSaixPZtanMduWFiYEGtdLwjAdN-6ri19n82shU/s855/Roerich6.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="558" data-original-width="855" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6v9Qp2fhNpF-WI2L1RLjF2otmkNf8cECZYDZF6AKA0knWX0Nj39XdKvOvQSidWbHNgADFQR-4qedbNQJ3pLrCxLZi2jeukBDSQRMqSaixPZtanMduWFiYEGtdLwjAdN-6ri19n82shU/w400-h261/Roerich6.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sword of the Gesar</i> (1932)<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzxcipYnnl26YC6eNkiZEkJVdAM2vfkYvmx5hursvfq_oho6s-yyN00J3lUNZFEVe4br2K8G9RGc1BNWA3qbc-uP1dUsb7tTpSeLHciQb57-GK9mTp-78raQ2OSt75FSUbwSGjZDwn5U/s855/Roerich2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="855" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzxcipYnnl26YC6eNkiZEkJVdAM2vfkYvmx5hursvfq_oho6s-yyN00J3lUNZFEVe4br2K8G9RGc1BNWA3qbc-uP1dUsb7tTpSeLHciQb57-GK9mTp-78raQ2OSt75FSUbwSGjZDwn5U/w400-h234/Roerich2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Rocks of Ladakh</i> (1933)<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUlkppjeMMlH9TpSX4baLfXNxnrff-CEMcae8N_ib3N3la9QH7jMu8tLR_yQARQk-BREWL4yY686gadt-sDWa1QyaT1WDo1HdrHRXAdlf-YWSArRmsQtlkWYJkivDgljXJHhN5AGRhhrU/s847/Roerich7.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="847" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUlkppjeMMlH9TpSX4baLfXNxnrff-CEMcae8N_ib3N3la9QH7jMu8tLR_yQARQk-BREWL4yY686gadt-sDWa1QyaT1WDo1HdrHRXAdlf-YWSArRmsQtlkWYJkivDgljXJHhN5AGRhhrU/w400-h236/Roerich7.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lake of the Nagas</i> (1932)</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzWYfOrouxCBJxEhH-v0u-fT4_U8M5cSyR5L4DZCgszmUnK5qfAw3O5-CjoNpoE8rx79H5Ia7rEK9qYa3WDlK87Ukqlgdzs6SjVIp0p0U6IZlvgNpQkoM4af2fiEjG359G6o6LHmQ_8M/s698/Roerich3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="698" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzWYfOrouxCBJxEhH-v0u-fT4_U8M5cSyR5L4DZCgszmUnK5qfAw3O5-CjoNpoE8rx79H5Ia7rEK9qYa3WDlK87Ukqlgdzs6SjVIp0p0U6IZlvgNpQkoM4af2fiEjG359G6o6LHmQ_8M/w400-h286/Roerich3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Message from Shambhala</i> (1931)</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGIpWr3RhdMjyyOBMw_wlbW-_daMEAMi-0TF6jzc6a3PUZORZuNvxPKVSJi9qPSzaW1V7n56xiTfmz-jGNS7JuFc2K6bH_8bbQuNIpoucwCMX9c0hN1Z5rPPoronloRm2WLEnPE7xP_d8/s654/Roerich1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="654" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGIpWr3RhdMjyyOBMw_wlbW-_daMEAMi-0TF6jzc6a3PUZORZuNvxPKVSJi9qPSzaW1V7n56xiTfmz-jGNS7JuFc2K6bH_8bbQuNIpoucwCMX9c0hN1Z5rPPoronloRm2WLEnPE7xP_d8/w400-h306/Roerich1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>She Who Leads</i> (1943)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-87619523627091634352021-03-31T23:58:00.010-05:002021-04-14T23:03:02.574-05:00Baseball 2021 Predictions<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6o5l8TtS0EuQrcar7ZS51wn2aTwdXSayZeFbFwiWzrl4wbCzUDgeKWiNTjkO-nJWkHhjcn7x0acL7xO96-ZRP01upyktg7uhX55tgQ71areLmYJRSuwR448yD5tjOxTFof9n-b2valF0/s2048/IMG_2133.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6o5l8TtS0EuQrcar7ZS51wn2aTwdXSayZeFbFwiWzrl4wbCzUDgeKWiNTjkO-nJWkHhjcn7x0acL7xO96-ZRP01upyktg7uhX55tgQ71areLmYJRSuwR448yD5tjOxTFof9n-b2valF0/w400-h300/IMG_2133.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />The whole world changed in 2020, and baseball changed more than it has in more than a century. 2020 was the shortest MLB season ever, the shortest season of major league baseball in America since the 1800s. Watching the short 60-game season last year, I felt grateful just to have any baseball on TV and the playoff rounds were often thrilling to watch, but it's hard to take the results of the 60-game regular season all that seriously. Now as the schedule goes back to 162 games in 2021, the big question across baseball is how much the load of this innings increase will wear down pitchers. MLB has implemented some new rules, some of which are unfortunate like adding a runner on second base in extra innings and 7-inning double-headers but at least these changes might actually mitigate the innings load on pitchers and lead to fewer injuries. I'll be watching the games regardless, but baseball needs to figure out how to tweak some aspects of its gameplay to make the basic flow of things slightly less boring without further disturbing the sport's core equilibriums. Most agree the problems boil down to one thing: the ball needs to be put into play more, give fielders more chances. That's always the most potently contingent instant of a game when a ball is hit into play and there's a mad scramble around the bases while fielders rush to react. <p></p><p>Going from a 60-game season to a 162-game season for the first time ever ensures 2021 baseball will be full of surprises. Then you factor in the expected changes made to the baseball in attempt to make it less bouncy and the league potentially cracking down on Trevor Bauer types who covertly use substances to increase spin rate on pitches, plus the impact that could come from the new rule changes. There's so much we don't know about what's gonna happen in major league baseball this year. On the other hand, there are some things we can be sure of---the Dodgers will be really good, the Yankees will be really good, the Pirates will suck, the Orioles will suck. The league has become noticeably stratified with very obvious bottom-feeders, an upperclass of likely power-houses and a group of higher variance teams in the middle. But injuries and your typical baseball weirdness can throw everything askew, this is why we watch. I'll be rooting for the weird and unexpected stuff to happen because that makes it watchable, but some results to consider for six months from now do seem predictable. </p><p>In this post I will share the Baseball Prospectus <a href="https://www.baseballprospectus.com/standings/" target="_blank">PECOTA projection</a> for each team and pick an over/under for each. (Note that the PECOTA projections include decimals in the win numbers, but I'm rounding those up.) More than ever I think nobody has any idea how this MLB season will turn out because of variance and all the new contributing factors but baseball fans always enjoy making their picks before the long season and the same goes for me, so here are my picks for how each division will stack up with my thoughts about the chances for each team in 2021. <br /><br /></p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><b>AL East</b></p><p><b>1. Yankees<br />PECOTA: 100 wins<br />My Pick: Under</b></p><p>The bullpen remains among the league's elite, the lineup power-heavy as ever, and the rotation has a bunch of question marks but also appears stocked with enough depth to weather the storm of inevitable attrition from the innings ramp-up. Certainly lots of upside with Gerrit Cole and Corey Kluber (2x Cy Young winner, coming back from a shoulder injury) atop the rotation, but it's the depth of having impressive young prospects like Deivi Garcia and Clarke Schmidt primed to fill in as their #6 or #7 starters that makes me think this team is stacked enough to win the AL East this year. The Yanks of the last few years have consistently succeeded despite injuries leaving their best hitters on the shelf, but if guys like Judge or Stanton or Gleyber Torres can stay healthy this team will cruise. With all those injury risks alluded to though, this doesn't feel like a 100-win team to me.</p><p><b>2. Rays<br />PECOTA: 86 wins <br />My Pick: Over </b><b>(Wild Card)</b></p><p>After knocking off the Yankees and Astros to take the AL pennant last year, the Rays tore down and rebuilt their always deep and complicated pitching staff including bringing back Chris Archer in a surprise move, while mostly keeping intact last year's defensively versatile yet streaky lineup, with baseball's #1 prospect, infielder Wander Franco, expected to add a jolt in 2021. This organization stays keeping it weird, they don't care if you understand or enjoy their strange moves and strategies, they just stay steadily competing and succeeding shrewdly (cheaply). The Rays, like other elite MLB baseball orgs, excel at not-easily-measured things like player development and coaching and tend to overachieve expectations, coaxing the best out of guys they discover or develop. I'm saying don't be surprised if Wander Franco does come up to mash and the Rays extract some degree of excellence out of the veteran arms they took flyers on like Rich Hill, Michael Wacha, Archer or Collin McHugh. There's also an embarrassment of riches in young MLB-ready pitchers behind those guys and an elite fielding (and base-running) team reliably keeping games close. Despite losing closer Nick Anderson to an injury, I think the Rays' pitching is as good a bet as any team in MLB to steer steadily through the upcoming innings bump.</p><p><b>3. Blue Jays<br /></b><b>PECOTA: 85 wins<br /></b><b>My Pick: Under</b></p><p>The lineup has the looks of a perfect storm of burgeoning talent coming together all at once. Adding George Springer and Marcus Semien to a group of young sluggers like Vlad Jr, Bo Bichette, Cavan Biggio, and Lourdes Gurriel Jr. is likely to wreak havoc on pitchers. They'll put up numbers for sure but the pitching for Toronto looks really shaky. South Korean southpaw Hyun Jin Ryu is an ace but he's an injury risk and there are no great pitchers behind him (Mets fans know what to expect from Steven Matz, solid 4 starter). I'm expecting slugfests and late inning collapses because their bullpen lacks arms with elite stuff too. Should be entertaining to watch, though.</p><p><b>4. Red Sox<br />PECOTA: 80 wins<br />My Pick: Under</b></p><p>The Mookie Betts trade will continue to loom over this franchise for a while as Betts launches himself into the national consciousness wearing Dodger blue, having snatched a second championship ring in a career that could potentially finish with him among the best baseball players ever. This version of the Red Sox may not totally suck, they've still got Xander Bogaerts and new additions like Enrique Hernandez and Hunter Renfroe seem ideal fits to mash in Fenway Park, but the pitching side of things doesn't look promising at all and they don't have the depth to make it through what'll be a grind of a season in a competitive division. If things go south, the Sox might sell off every piece they can.</p><p><br /><b>5. Orioles<br />PECOTA: 65 wins<br />My Pick: Under</b></p><p>The aggressive teardown and tank job continues. Preemptively surrendering a major league season.</p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b>AL Central </b></p><p><b>1. Twins<br />PECOTA: 91 wins<br />My Pick: Over</b></p><p>Marginal tweaks made to improve an already very good team. They added Alex Colomé as closer, added JA Happ and Matt Shoemaker at the back of the rotation, brought back 40-year-old DH Nelson Cruz, and in an important move they shifted Jorge Polanco off shortstop following his season-turning defensive lapse in the ALDS, replacing him with defensive rock Andrelton Simmons. I think Simmons also fits nicely into this slugger-heavy lineup as a high-contact, high batting average hitter. The Central in AL & NL is pretty lame but the Twins-White Sox-Cleveland battle should be exciting (yea, I'm high on Cleveland this year). Don't lose sight of the Twins' regular season dominance though---this team has played at a higher than .600 win percentage the last two seasons, that core remains in place and they've supplemented it nicely. The Twins have become something of a pitching powerhouse with a system that emphasizes off-speed stuff (Minnesota ranked 29th baseball in fastball % last year), supplemented by great fielders. Plus they hit lots of dingers. All that and they've also got enviable depth at the catcher position. The Twins' window remains wide open.</p><p><b>2. Cleveland<br />PECOTA: 85 wins<br />My Pick: Over (Wild Card)</b><br /></p><p>Even as a Mets fan, I think the Francisco Lindor trade was shameful, but it fits a recent pattern of MLB teams trading off franchise icons rather than signing them long-term (same with Mookie Betts/Red Sox, Nolan Arenado/Rockies), wealthy owners depriving their fanbases to save a few bucks. Now, with that out of the way, I must admit the Cleveland front office manages to keep on cobbling together competitive teams with the meager resources they're given. They clearly have a knack for developing pitching and the rotation looks to be a strength once again, despite trading away Carlos Carrasco. They've now completely dismantled the Kluber, Carrasco, Bauer rotation that carried them to many playoff runs yet they've once again developed an impressive pitching staff. Shane Bieber is likely to be a Cy Young candidate again and prospects like Triston McKenzie and Cal Quantrill appear almost ready to advance into mid-rotation contributors. I like that they've already turned Amed Rosario into a centerfielder and though he probably won't hit as much as Lindor, Andres Gimenez fits perfectly on this team as a versatile infielder with some power upside who plays great defense. Jose Ramirez is one of my favorite players in the sport, he's fun to watch every game, and this Cleveland ballclub has not had sluggers of the caliber of Franmil Reyes and Eddie Rosario in their lineup in a while. They also still have one of the game's elite defensive catchers in Roberto Perez. Young stud relievers like Emmanuel Clase (who deploys straight gasoline to the tune of 101 mph) and James Karinchak (who's an intense maniac with a funky windup that racks up K's in abundance) are stepping into endgame roles in the bullpen. The floor is high with this team, the question is whether their ceiling puts them amid the realm of the higher upside Twins and White Sox. </p><p><b>3.White Sox <br />PECOTA: 82 wins<br />My Pick: Over</b></p><p>Lucas Giolito is a good pick for 2021 Cy Young and the ChiSox have superstar caliber players manning key up-the-middle-spots, shortstop (Tim Anderson), centerfield (Luis Robert), and catcher (Yasmani Grandal). Even though they made a few solid additions in the offseason, they needed to add another good outfielder and instead they brought back Adam Eaton. Now that Eloy Jimenez will be on the injured list for most of the season, their corner outfield situation looks especially weak. I think Yoenis Cespedes would make a great fit on this team (with four Cuban players already on the roster), but as of right now I feel like this is a team with a good rotation and interesting bullpen but a flawed lineup. The Sox also brought in a perpetually sloshed retiree (and active Hall of Famer) to manage things from the dugout which could turn out to be disastrous. I'll take the over, but not by much. </p><p><b>4. Royals<br />PECOTA: 71 wins<br />My Pick: Over</b></p><p>They'll almost certainly finish below .500 again but at least they're going through the motions of trying to improve the team, unlike so many other clubs in their position. Adding Carlos Santana and Hanser Alberto were nice moves. They've shown a definite loyalty to pitchers who've had any recent success for them, but overall the pitching looks shaky for KC. Hopefully top prospect Bobby Witt Jr. joins the big league club at some point this year because he's got that spark-plug type of style, he was really fun to watch in spring training.</p><p><b>5. Tigers<br />PECOTA: 65 wins<br />My Pick: Under</b></p><p>Every time I've seen Willi Castro play he's been a beast at the plate, not sure if that means anything. A depleted Miggy Cabrera remains in the lineup taking his cuts. Maybe top draft pick Spencer Torkelson will get a chance to hit dingers for the big club. Detroit's also got a few top young pitching prospects on the way but they haven't shown a knack lately for developing young talent into good major leaguers. Likely to lose 100 games or more, but somehow still kinda interesting.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>AL West</b></p><p><b>1. Athletics<br />PECOTA: 83 wins<br />My Pick: Over</b></p><p>This division is really interesting to me. The A's won it last year after the Astros had a shaky regular season, but then the Stros snuck into the playoffs and caught fire, made it to Game 7 of the ALCS on the strength of their young pitching. The A's and Astros had a highly entertaining slugfest in the ALDS, shattering home run records for a playoff series, with the Stros edging out the A's. Now the A's completely rebuilt their bullpen such that it might even be a better unit than last year, while the Astros have lost George Springer and only made minor moves to improve the team. </p><p>I'm high on Oakland this year for several reasons. While Krush Davis had a nice little career with the A's his power had faded the last couple years, and I'm optimistic over his replacement at DH Mitch Moreland. Moreland for his career as a visiting player in Oakland has a .859 OPS with 15 home runs. They lost their dominant closer Liam Hendriks to free agency but picked up a solid replacement in Trevor Rosenthal, who throws 100 mph and owns the lowest rate of HR-per-9 innings of any active pitcher in MLB. Yes, there was roster churn as usual with the A's. They lost local kid Marcus Semien which was a bummer, and the new middle infield (past-their-prime vets Elvis Andrus and Jed Lowrie) is uninspiring. Despite not having a highly-ranked farm system, they do have some solid pitching depth on the 40-man roster. If lefty AJ Puk can start in the rotation alongside Jesus Luzardo, that's an A's fan's dream. Then their 6th thru 10th spots in starting pitching depth (guys like Cole Irvin, Daulton Jeffries, Grant Holmes, James Kaprelian) are all prospects seemingly sorta low on upside but higher in likelihood to be solid back-of-the-rotation starters, especially pitching in the Coliseum in front of this excellent defense. The A's excel at cobbling together great bullpens (I feel like Sergio Romo could have a good year pitching in the Bay once again, they brought back essential fireman Yusmeiro Petit, and they've still got Jake Deikman who was unhittable last year), the rotation has upside and depth, and they still have a lineup with dudes who hit dingers like Matt Chapman, Matt Olson, Mark Canha. Their homegrown catcher Sean Murphy is a big dude who hits for power, too. I've also been enjoying watching their latest Rule 5 draft pick Ka'ai Tom, a shorter guy with a compact swing and plenty of power. Full name Blaze Ka'ai Tom from Hawaii, he impressed in spring training, displaying some power from the left side (much needed in a RH-heavy Oakland lineup), a disciplined approach and the athleticism to play center field. A's are also managed by Bob Melvin, 3-time manager of the year. Lots to like still here.</p><p><b>2. Astros<br />PECOTA: 92 wins<br />My Pick: Under</b></p><p>On paper the Astros still have the best lineup and best rotation in this division. But I expect they will struggle to replace George Springer, especially what he brought out of the leadoff spot in that lineup. Their lineup performing at an elite level also hinges on DH Yordan Alvarez who's got nagging knee problems. They definitely have lots of really intriguing starting pitcher prospects as we saw in their playoff run last year, but I don't think they will have the depth offensively or pitching-wise to hang around the playoff picture all season.</p><p><b>3. Angels<br />PECOTA: 86 wins<br />My Pick: Under</b></p><p>I often fall for the Angels and their big off-seasons when I do preseason predictions, not going to this year. Sure, they rebuilt the bullpen, adding a good closer Raisel Iglesias and picking up a bunch of other fungible relievers for depth. They brought in yet more #4 starters (Jose Quintana, Alex Cobb) to a rotation full of #4 starters. There are scenarios where the Angels make the playoffs, they've got three superstars in Mike Trout, Anthony Rendon, and the incredible Shohei Ohtani, and who knows maybe the Astros or A's take a step backward. More likely the Angels' rotation is subpar and hampers their hopes at sticking in the playoff race.</p><p><b>4. Mariners<br />PECOTA: 70 wins<br />My Pick: Over</b></p><p>Kyle Lewis has been fun to watch and they have a bunch of exciting prospects in the system likely to come up at some point this season. But the Mariners haven't done a great job turning prospects into big leaguers and they're not making much of an effort to compete this year, following an offseason in which their dickhead CEO was recorded in a speech to a rotary club meeting saying a bunch of shamefully dumb, hateful and racist stuff (bragging about manipulating rookies' service time, mocking the org's top young Dominican outfield prospect for his English). Weirdly boneheaded stuff, yet not entirely surprising that a board member of an MLB team turned out to be a malign jackass.</p><p><b>5. Rangers<br /></b><b>PECOTA: 66 wins<br /></b><b>My Pick: Under</b></p><p>Maybe they could finish ahead of the M's? Regardless, even the absolute worst teams in baseball tend to win something like 60 games. Might be some entertainment along the way watching (watching... that is, if MLB.TV didn't black out all the Texas games for me!) Gallo hitting dingers, Kiner-Falefa making plays as a rare shortstop/catcher hybrid, and adding outfielder David Dahl was a nice pickup. That's all I got, they're gonna suck.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>NL East</b></p><p><b>1. Braves<br />PECOTA: 83 wins<br />My Pick: Over</b><br /></p><p>As an avowed Mets fan I'm well aware of how good these Braves are. I've seen the Mets regularly get pummeled by Freddie Freeman, Ronald Acuña Jr, Ozzie Albies, and the beating Marcell Ozuna laid on the Mets last year (1.071 OPS in 10 games) is fresh in my memory. You know Mets' GM Sandy Alderson must be irritated his successor ditched Travis d'Arnaud only to see him turn into a slugger for the Braves. This Atlanta team nearly toppled the Dodgers last year, falling one win shy of the World Series, and they've added hardboiled vet Charlie Morton to a pitching staff led by young aces Ian Anderson and Max Fried. I think this is still one of the best teams in baseball and I wouldn't bet against them.</p><p><b>2. Mets<br />PECOTA: 92 wins<br />My Pick: Over (Wild Card)</b></p><p>With the acquisition (and subsequent 10-year contract extension!) of the best shortstop in baseball, Francisco Lindor, an all-around superstar player in his age 27 season being added to a deep Mets lineup that seemed to be one quality shortstop away from being a good team, I'm as thrilled as ever with the Mets roster. I love the players on this team, so many of whom are homegrown talents like Dom Smith, Michael Conforto, Brandon Nimmo, Jeff McNeil, Pete Alonso, and of course the Mets' pitching version of Mike Trout, Jacob deGrom. Can't forget Syndergaard is set to return. The lineup has enormous potential, especially with Lindor in the top third of the order. Despite bad results the last two years, the Mets of 2019-20 were often really fun to watch. Replacing their weakest fielders with Lindor at shortstop and James McCann at catcher ought to produce a noticeable impact on defense, despite legit questions about the Mets fielding arrangement overall. I love the depth this team has assembled, lots of major league quality players available if injuries hit. Once Carlos Carrasco returns from a hamstring injury, they could have an elite rotation. Only reason I'm picking them to finish below Atlanta is because I've watched the Mets go 17-31 against the Braves the last three years. I think this Mets team will be extremely entertaining to watch, I can't wait to see Stroman and Lindor playing on the same field together in front of fans in Queens and I'm happy that Sandy Alderson gets another go at a winning a ring with this incredible core he helped build. Of course I'd be thrilled to see the Mets steal this division but they do have some unaddressed weaknesses in the bullpen and lack of universal DH hurts them. </p><p><b>3. Nationals<br />PECOTA: 83 wins<br />My Pick: Over</b></p><p>It seems like a lot of people are down on the Nats this year, but I think they've got plenty of pop in that lineup now that they've added Kyle Schwarber and Josh Bell. They still have Juan Soto aka Childish Bambino dominating like a young Barry Bonds at the plate, including Soto leading MLB in intentional walks last year. A lineup with Soto near the top of it will be scary, plus Trea Turner atop the lineup is a relentless pain in the ass for opponents. And while their rotation lacks depth they still have a top-3 as good as any other top-3 in baseball. They signed Brad Hand who's never stopped being a top-tier closer despite shedding some velocity recently. The LH-heavy Mets lineup could struggle in comeback attempts against the lefty. I don't think they'll be a playoff team, but I don't expect the Nats to be terrible barring injuries to their stars.</p><p><b>4. Phillies<br />PECOTA: 84 wins<br />My Pick: Under</b></p><p>The Phils have a nice core with JT Realmuto, Rhys Hoskins, Bryce Harper, and solid veteran keystone combo of Didi Gregorius and Jean Segura. Leading the rotation is a true ace in Aaron Nola and the rest of the rotation is nothing terrible. But this is the Phillies, their bullpen is a horror show every year and this same core that has intrigue and potential has struggled to stay around .500 the last few seasons. Bringing in Dave Dombrowski to the front office makes sense as a final gasp of breath for a team in their position, but I expect the Phils to choke.</p><p><b>5. Marlins<br />PECOTA: 70 wins<br />My Pick: Over</b></p><p>I think they've got the pitching depth to pounce on a potential Phils or Nats collapse and climb into the top three in the division this year. Much more likely to finish last though.</p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b>NL Central</b></p><p><b>1. Brewers<br />PECOTA: 90 wins<br />My Pick: Under</b></p><p>The NL Central is pretty bad but I'm high on the Brew Crew this year. I'm looking for a bounce back year from Christian Yelich, plus the upside of young infielders Keston Hiura and Luis Urias is exciting to me. The Milwaukee ballclub leaned heavily into its greatest strength over the offseason, supplementing their defense, adding elite defenders Kolten Wong and Jackie Bradley Jr. There are two sleeper Cy Young candidates atop the rotation in Brandon Woodruff and Corbin Burnes, both dudes who work with straight fire. Back-end of the bullpen also looks ridiculous, the duo of Josh Hader and Devin Williams has unhittable stuff. I dig the pitching depth overall, this Brewers team seems to be built around run prevention and what they've assembled is impressive. Between the rotation, bullpen, and defense, the Brewers' run prevention unit is as promising as anything else this division has to offer.</p><p><b>2. Cards<br />PECOTA: 80 wins<br />My Pick: Over</b></p><p>The Arenado trade finally gives them the steady offensive bat they've needed for a while. But Goldschmidt needs to mash too though, because this team doesn't have many good hitters. Who else do they have, Paul DeJong? Dylan Carlson hasn't looked great in against major league pitching thus far* and unless you're a big fan of Harrison Bader or Tyler O'Neill which I'm not, it doesn't look like Arenado/Goldschmidt have much help on the offensive side. </p><p>*<i>There's a trio of bat-first outfield prospects (</i><i>the three are Dylan Carlson of the Cards, Alex Kiriloff of the Twins, and JJ Bleday of the Marlins) </i><i>who are highly ranked on prospect lists but haven't started producing in the majors yet, and I connect the three in my head because evaluators are high on all of three yet none of them looked that impressive to me in the at-bats I've seen so far. </i></p><p><b>3. Cubs<br />PECOTA: 85 wins<br />My Pick: Under </b></p><p>A pitching rotation full of soft-tossers in an era of flame-throwing pitchers, and there's some appeal in a team trying to be different. I'm interested to see what kinda numbers Joc Pederson will put up if he gets a full-time role (he had put up video game numbers playing full-time as a minor leaguer and consistently mashed against righties in the platoon role he had with the Dodgers). If Kris Bryant can get back to form, the offense could be the best in this division. Tons of weak spots on this team, though, especially on the pitching side.</p><p><b>4. Reds<br />PECOTA: 79 wins<br />My Pick: Under</b></p><p>They do have some potential for good pitching with guys like Sonny Gray and Luis Castillo in the rotation, and the lineup looks alright on paper but the offense underperformed last year and they didn't do much to improve that. Unless one of the Cards, Cubs, or Brewers implode I don't see Cincy finishing higher than 4th.</p><p><b>5. Pirates<br />PECOTA: 62 wins<br />My Pick: Under</b></p><p>Whole lotta nope. They play in one of the nicest ballparks in major league baseball and Ke'Bryan Hayes is really fun to watch, that's about it. </p><p><br /></p><p><b>NL West</b></p><p><b>1. Dodgers<br />PECOTA: 104 wins<br />My Pick: Over</b></p><p>The short season was weird and flukey but I felt like the playoff schedule, with few off-days and neutral ballparks actually ended up producing some amazing and meaningful baseball last October. The top two teams played in the World Series and the series was extremely fun to watch, that all made the Dodgers' championship feel legit. Coming back from the brink in the NLCS and then overcoming a huge collapse in Game 4 of the World Series to beat the Rays, this team earned it. While they're 1 for 3 in the World Series, this team is in the midst of a dynasty and remains a good bet to win the World Series this year. They've got 3 different former MVPs on the roster, 3 former Cy Young winners, more depth than any team in baseball. The Padres should at least provide some competition (and if their NLDS battle was any indication, some heated brouhahas) but the Dodgers are still the best team in baseball. At this point, they're almost boringly efficient at being great.</p><p><b>2. Padres<br />PECOTA: 95 wins<br />My Pick: Under (Wild Card)</b></p><p>Nothing boring about these Padres. Having spent a few years living within walking distance of Petco Park (go back to the archives of this blog from 11 years ago to read more), I'm excited for the city of San Diego to get experience a must-watch baseball team. I went to many games at Petco against the Dodgers in those days and the crowd was always big and relatively rowdy (for SoCal), so it'll be cool to see this rivalry heat up now that San Diego has built a legit contender. Adding two ace starters, Yu Darvish and Blake Snell, to the top of the rotation is an enormous upgrade, as big of an upgrade as any team in the majors made this offseason (the Mets adding Lindor and Carrasco is up there, too), and the Padres already have the most exciting young player in baseball in Fernando Tatis Jr, plus Manny Machado hit like an MVP last season and will likely be fired up for the battles against the Dodgers. Can't wait to watch this team play. Despite all that, I don't know that the Padres are as good as the Dodgers because there may not be any team in MLB as good as the Dodgers.</p><p><b>3. D'backs<br />PECOTA: 79 wins<br />My Pick: Under</b></p><p>Really boring, but somehow not terrible, that's how I see the D'backs. Solid defense and pretty good pitching can keep a team in games, but aside from the potential for Ketel Marte to recapture the MVP-level form he showed in 2019, there's not a whole lot to be excited about for fans of the Snakes.</p><p><b>4. Giants<br />PECOTA: 74<br />My Pick: Over</b></p><p>The projection for 74 wins seems on point, but I'll take the over because they made enough interesting moves to keep this roster from being abysmal. If they get out to a slow start they'll likely try to get rid of their expensive veterans in the final years of their deals.</p><p><b>5. Rockies<br />PECOTA: 62<br />My Pick: Under</b></p><p>Still a laughingstock. They traded away superstar third baseman Nolan Arenado for minimal return and might trade away Trevor Story this season. At least they've finally got some pitchers who don't suck. In all seriousness, the story of Daniel Bard's comeback from completely losing his control and confidence and going into retirement from pro baseball in 2017 only to return to MLB dominance in 2020, that's a really cool story. </p>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-24156121727559893162021-03-20T15:50:00.002-05:002021-03-25T19:43:41.339-05:00Three Interviews with Master Craftsmen on the Art of Hip Hop<p>Producer Madlib recently appeared on BBC Radio 6 for a lengthy convo with Gilles Peterson, talking about his friendship with MF DOOM, his latest album <i>Sound Ancestors</i>, his crate-digging exploits, his love of Sun Ra and spiritual jazz music, and Madlib even played a bunch of records on the show. </p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/M1QdBKDNBjg" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe></p><p><br /></p><p>Producer/emcee Bronze Nazareth appeared on the podcast From the Desk of Lo for an in-depth interview detailing his whole background as a musician, how he linked up with the Wu-Tang Clan, stories of staying with RZA while working on <i>Birth of a Prince</i>, how he heard tons of unreleased Wu material from the early-2000s, growing up with his longtime friend Apollo Brown, and plenty of other interesting stuff here that I have never heard him discuss with this level of detail. They even get into the million-dollar Wu album which Bronze had some music on. Interviewer does a great job asking informed questions. (At the end of the interview Bronze mentions a book project I have been working on with him. It's progressing toward final stages now and I'm excited to get it out to the world soon.)</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7xeAxlDr4uk" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe></p><p><br /></p><p>SkillastratorLO aka Sunez interviewed underground emcee Rome Streetz on the Power Write Show podcast. Sunez is perhaps the most in-depth, insightful, and knowledgeable journalist writing about hip hop these days and his interviews with artists are always intriguing. In this talk they get into a level of detail on the writing of rap lyrics that you rarely hear in artist interviews. I especially dug the discussion of writing in a "concentrated" style, embedding so much meaning and interconnectedness in rhymes that it takes the listener several listens to catch on. They talk about the new album Rome Streetz made with DJ Muggs, the intricacies of Rome's writing process, what it's like to work with a legend like DJ Muggs, how Rome's music fits into and outside of the underground rap genre, how his approach differs from other rap artists, etc. Real informative discussion here.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WHp3i6OJ3Bk" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe></p><p><br /></p>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-57884025001462041402021-02-28T00:37:00.005-06:002021-03-11T18:59:36.564-06:00Album Reviews: Pandemic Era Rap Elixirs Curated<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/e4bY8ninz8Y" width="480"></iframe><p><br /></p><p>"Ghost Hammurabi" is a new track from Killah Priest, it also feels like the latest installment of the style heard throughout Priest's 2020 project <i>Rocket to Nebula</i>, with a drum-less beat and mesmerizing, evolving tempos overridden by rapid-fire lyricism evoking epic, cosmic scales. It's a track that might take some getting used to, or it might speak to you instantly. For me it was the latter. So it seems like a good way to start off this assemblage of reflections on my favorite rap albums from the past year. </p><p>These are short reviews of some favorite albums from this pandemic era, last year and into 2021. Not exactly trying to provide objective criticism or a ranking of best albums, just giving my opinion on the albums that brought me excitement, enjoyment, or inspiration during the pandemic year. Not listed in any particular order, this is a curated list of rap elixirs I've been soaking in with thoughts on the merits of each. </p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><br /></p><p><b>Killah Priest - <i>Rocket to Nebula</i></b></p><p>This remains my favorite album of the past year, you can read my full review "The Interstellar Corridors of Killah Priest's <i>Rocket to Nebula</i>" <a href="https://hiphopgoldenage.com/killah-priest-rocket-to-nebula-review/" target="_blank">here</a>. Priest actually dropped three new albums in the past year including this one, but <i>Rocket to Nebula</i> stands out, it is on a level all its own. It's an album of cosmic contemplations and exercises in mindfulness of the simple pleasures of earthly existence, a potent antidote to the anxieties and stresses of the pandemic era. The style involves more meditative soundscapes devoid of drums, with the spoken-word poetry from Priest journeying through worlds and dimensions, lyrically spinning portals like Doctor Strange. "<i>Time travel portals I toy with, rhymes channel immortals for enjoyment</i>." </p><p>
<b>Favorite tracks:</b> Too many to name, it's a double-album filled with great tracks, but if I had to pick one I'd say "Magnificent Interview".</p><p>
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<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Madlib - <i>Sound Ancestors</i> </b></p><p>This came out in early 2021 and it's been great to hear some new Madlib after what seemed like a long hiatus, at least for his solo work. <i>Sound Ancestors</i> plays like it's part of Madlib's <i>Beat Konducta</i> series, an instrumental album with a few bass-heavy bangers, some bizarre experimental joints, plenty of hard drums and jangling coins, a track in homage to J Dilla, and even some forays into jazz music. This new album has earned Madlib quite a bit of press, including a <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/01/25/the-obsessive-beat-making-of-madlib" target="_blank">piece in <i>The</i> <i>New Yorker</i></a> where it mentions how Madlib makes hundreds of beats per week and has tons of unheard music in his vaults. The new project is actually a collaborative effort with Four Tet, an experimental musician from the UK whose role on <i>Sound Ancestors</i> was apparently to help curate and mix down some of the music. If this is the type of team-work required to get more music from Madlib out to the world, I'm all for it and hoping the success of this project leads to an increased output. </p><p><br />
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</p><p><b>Favorite tracks:</b> "Theme De Crabtree"; "Hopprock"; "Two for 2 - for Dilla" especially the second beat; and "Road of the Lonely Ones" is such a beautiful track, the drums are crisp and carry along a smooth-paced banger whose crooning voices stir the soul. Some reviewers thought the haunting manner of some of the music on the album was indicative of Madlib musically mourning his friend MF DOOM who, it was announced on New Year's Eve, had passed away on Halloween, but apparently Madlib heard the sad news when all of us did. </p><p><b>(((R.I.P. MF DOOM)))</b></p><p>I must take a minute to reflect on MF DOOM one of the all-time greats who passed away last year. 2020 was a rough year, a season of death, and to learn on the final day of the year that we had lost MF DOOM, that just felt like a cheap shot. That news really hurt. Whenever I think of DOOM (aka Daniel Dumile), I get a happy feeling inside because he was just such a force of creativity and a living breathing comicbook character, his music was fun. His imprint unforgettable. His penchant for creative rhyme schemes is unmatched, he had the sense of humor of an older soul (he died at age 49), and he was something of a super-nerd. His rhymes featured faded styles of humor, references to 70s TV shows, comicbook characters, Star Trek, pro wrestling, and then he'd rap about the Large Hadron Collider and seamlessly weave the name of that Icelandic <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eyjafjallaj%C3%B6kull" target="_blank">volcano</a> (Eyjafjallajökull) into a verse. He was dropping new verses as recently as 2020 yet he had an old-school vibe, his career <a href="https://www.vulture.com/article/mf-doom-wake.html" target="_blank">began</a> in the late-80s rapping under the name Zev Love X <a href="https://twitter.com/fakeshoredrive/status/1344834998696865792?lang=en" target="_blank">alongside</a> 3rd Bass, his story taking on a dark turn after his brother and close-collaborator DJ Subroc was killed in a car crash. Zev re-emerged as MF DOOM, wearing a mask and rapping at poetry slams in Manhattan cafes. His new persona borrowed from the backstory of the supervillain Doc Doom (true identity Victor Von Doom---DOOM other characters included Viktor Vaughn) who went off to the Tibetan mountains after tragedy struck, learned under the monks before overthrowing them, then returned as a supervillain with metal mask. Ever the man of mystery, an enigma in an image-saturated rap world, DOOM enlightened and thrilled and confounded us all. He gave us so much classic music, yet he leaves with so much untapped potential. He leaves a powerful legacy behind (as seen especially in the responses of other rappers and in murals appearing around the world), the image of his metal mask synonymous with the potency of the underground in all art forms, his approach to music an inspiration for anyone to pursue our creative energies however we see fit. </p><p>Here's a cool video with the lyrics for the song "Mad Nice" with DOOM and Black Thought: </p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/wVcPrTZiQdE" width="480"></iframe>
</p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><b>Ka - <i>Descendants of Cain</i></b></p><p>No doubt one of the best albums of the past year. Seems like each new project from Ka is a special event and this one was no different. Ka albums carry a certain theme, on this one the concept is Biblical, the title referring to Cain, son of Adam, killer of his brother Abel, and if we're thinking in Biblical terms, the begetter of all who came after, leaving all of us to carry the stain of his sin. An allegory of this scale provides an ideal dramatic template for Ka to work within as he's always seeming to be in the process of purging traumas of the past through artful constructs of language and aphorism. The method of Ka is the same he's developed for the past decade, rapping in low tones, his gravelly voice finding pockets in the beat to fill with his tightly-wound, artisan-crafted poetics. His bars are intricate, interesting to unravel. As I've written <a href="https://www.abuildingroam.com/2018/10/a-brief-note-on-marksmen-ornate-lyrical.html" target="_blank">before</a>, Ka has a knack for good choruses too. "The Eye of a Needle" chorus repeats, "<i>Penny for ya thoughts, nickels with the grip, had dimes tell me that they love me</i>." What separates this album from his other ones is the quality and mood of the beats. I think I would still put this <a href="https://www.abuildingroam.com/2018/12/album-review-orpheus-vs-sirens-by.html" target="_blank">below</a> <i>Orpheus vs. the Sirens</i> on a ranking of his best albums, but <i>Descendants of Cain</i> maintains the epic scale and elite lyricism of Ka's previous work.</p><p>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UiVAnEI0XeU" width="480"></iframe></p><p><b>Favorite tracks: </b>"Every Now and Then" is a perfect introduction to the artform of Ka, with a beat he produced, deploying undulating strings and a lamenting electric guitar reverb. Ka rarely has any guest appearances on his albums except for the occasional appearance from Roc Marciano and Marci's appearance on "Sins of the Father" made for an impactful track, Roc dropped one of the best verses of the year. "The Eye of a Needle" is another favorite of mine, especially the part after the beat flips. And the mood on "Old Justice" is haunting and incredible. </p><p><b><br />
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</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b>Preservation - <i>Eastern Medicine, Western Illness</i></b></p><p>Preservation has been a producer synonymous with crisp, melodic beats that flip great samples. He had <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9Z9LNGDBC8" target="_blank">some</a> good beats on Babygrande records projects in the 2000s, he produced bangers for Mos Def, he teamed up with Ka for that amazing <i>Days With Dr. Yen Lo</i> album, and then this past year Preservation dropped this compilation album <i>Eastern Medicine, Western Illness</i> with beats made from samples he discovered living in Hong Kong. The beats are lush, exotic and often glorious on here. Preservation's far-east-oriented sounds are laced with some great verses from an array of renowned rhyme slingers, the best verses for me being the features from Nickelus F, Your Old Droog, Mach-Hommy, Roc Marciano, and Ka. If the emcees sound extra inspired on these tracks it's because the beats go so hard. The audio journey Preservation takes the listener on is the ultimate highlight of this record. </p><p><b>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/YAqof9xXa_k" width="480"></iframe> </b></p><p><b>Favorite tracks:</b> On "Correspondence" Your Old Droog and Mach-Hommy crush it, they sound so good on this production (this combo of YOD, Mach-Hommy, and Preservation have teamed up for some great work on other projects too including <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uquCHbzfkPg" target="_blank">a recent joint</a> with MF DOOM). Roc Marci murked "Medicine Drawer" as did Ka on "Cure for the Common"---of many good songs on this album, I also really like "I-78/Capillaries" and "North Bridge" and the beat on the outro "Mouth of a River" is just a beautiful piece of music. </p><p>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cwjnqDrBfXk" width="480"></iframe></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Estee Nack & Superior - <i>BALADAS</i></b></p><p>Album titles and track names appear in all caps with no spaces on Estee Nack projects. Emblematic of his emphatic and agile style of rapping, maybe. Nack with gritty vocals and a flow that sounds effortless dances rapidly over beats, while the flayed cuts of drawn-out organ pipes and lofty-sounding samples provided in Superior's production make great territory for Nack to run wild in. The style of Estee Nack often amounts to more than the sum of its parts, I think, because his incredible flow and gravelly voice just go so well over beats, plus his ad-libs are always clever and memorable. Nack is one of the most entertaining mic presences in hip hop these days. I've been a fan since his earliest Tragic Allies releases in the mid-2000s. He's been open in interviews about his growth as an artist and it's been cool to see his style evolve and his star continuing to shine brighter and I hope the steady stream of new projects continues unabated.</p><p><b>Favorite tracks:</b> "PLEGARIAAUNSICARIO" is probably the best song on the album. There's so many amazing displays of flow on this record, the movement of Superior's beats really highlights the dexterous rhyming abilities of Nack. This was especially evident on "TELLTHETRUTHANDSHAMETHEDEVIL" and "MANGOMARMALADE" and I also love how he spazzes out on "LAUNCHTHEBOATOFFAKEYWEST." Lots of great vibes throughout this record, including on "WISDOM" with Codenine.</p><p>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/p945r8yWqxI" width="480"></iframe></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Willie the Kid - <i>Capital Gains</i></b></p><p><b>&</b></p><p><b>Willie the Kid & V-Don - <i>Deutsche Marks 2</i></b></p><p>WTK has become one of my favorite artists. He's got an interesting style, a lyricism of luxuriant opulence over a rugged, grimy, underground sort of sound. This style goes amazingly alongside V-Don production, they complement each other well. V-Don produced the dank banger "Free Parking" that opens the album <i>Capital Gains</i>, and the two dropped their latest collab <i>Deutsche Marks 2 </i>which was also really good<i>.</i> Willie strikes me as a lyrical technician---the automobile engineering theme of the <i>Deutsche Marks</i> albums feels appropriate. "Too advanced for the passive listener," he brags on "Audubon Ballroom." To call it wordplay seems too simplistic but he toys with language a lot. I've been thinking about what he does using directions in the opening of "Free Parking": </p><p><i></i></p><blockquote><p><i>Last time shit went left, my n****s got right</i></p><p><i>Left a man where he stand, ya right arm in a sling</i></p><p><i>Liberate like the left wing, equal rights</i></p><p><i>I took a stance never took the stand, despite</i></p><p><i>Game room in the east wing, I never punt</i></p><p><i>All is quiet on the western front</i></p></blockquote><p>Notice the "left" and "right" each repeated three times in the first few lines in different contexts, then balanced by "equal rights" in the third line. "I took a stance" is to balance physically but figuratively it's a push in the direction of racial equality in society, "liberate like the left wing." And then the two sides continue in "the east wing" and "the western front." This type of rhyme subtlety is evident in all his music if you look for it. Willie has a way with words, his beat selection is top-notch, and he goes at the beats with his own style that fits perfectly.</p><p>
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<br /></p><p><b>Favorite tracks:</b> The first three songs on <i>Capital Gains</i> are amazing. That whole project is good but that lineup of "Free Parking" - "Cork Free" (ft Action Bronson) - "Egregious" those three tracks flow perfectly. On the Willie the Kid & V-Don album, I love the tracks "Plum Wine", "Minutiae" and "Audubon Ballroom."</p><p><br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gozykCys9qM" width="480"></iframe>
</p><p><br /></p><p><b>Roc Marciano<i> - Mt. Marci</i></b></p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ubs5M0H6MFY" width="480"></iframe><br /></p><p>Roc Marci is venerated as a legend in 21st century raw rap. He had a number of stand-out features in the past year, he produced an acclaimed album for Stove God Cooks, and he dropped his newest solo album <i>Mt. Marci </i>to much fanfare. Following a string of consistently quality releases, Marciano on <i>Mt. Marci</i> creates a more tripped out sonic atmosphere than usual while highlighting the Marciano template of gnomic flows, street imagery, ostentatious splashes of style drip, soul vibes, and a reassertion of his stature in the world of hip hop lyricism, as he puts it, "<i>my third eye never calcified</i>."</p><p><b>Favorite tracks: </b>Best song for me on here is "Spirit Cooking" with Action Bronson, the beat, the energy they both bring, the way they let the melody breathe and find their way into it. "Steel Vagina" is a musical odyssey. "Baby Powder" has good texture and vibes with some of Roc's best bars on the album. "Wicked Days" is a bugged-out trip of crawling shadows and muttering tweakers, which Marci walks into with warnings for those writing him off, "<i>If rapping wasn't still fun I'd be done with it/ I'm dumb with it not dimwitted</i>." </p><p><br /></p><p><b>Hus Kingpin - <i>Portishus</i></b></p>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jzII-W3oOh4" width="480"></iframe><p><i>Portishus</i> (2021) has the makings of a modern day classic. Hus Kingpin has dropped a number of quality albums the past few years and he delivered something special on this one. The production on this album is amazing, much of the sound of <i>Portishus</i> is conceived in homage to the 90's UK trip hop group Portishead. Hus Kingpin also consciously places the album within a tradition of innovative, raw boom-bap, the epitome of east coast rap. There are many examples, a few of them being the snares and strings on the opening track "Who Made You Look" recalling the beat from LL Cool J's classic "I Shot Ya", the heavy piano melody on "The Struggling" giving new life and amplified emotional weight to the sample DJ Premier used on one of the best songs from <i>Reasonable Doubt </i>(1996), there's a song called "Belly" and a song called "Kool Keith," and he shouts out Mobb Deep associate Big Noyd right before a song featuring Mobb Deep associate Twin Gambino. In trying to honor the sound and vibes of '90s classics this way while pushing the envelope here in the third decade of the 21st century, <i>Portishead</i> is ambitious as fuck but I think it succeeds, mainly on the strength of Hus Kingpin's poetic flourishes and good ear for beats. </p><p><br />
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</p><p><b>Favorite tracks:</b> The whole first half of the album is amazing, I also really dig "Atticus Play" and "The Heroes" (ft Ransom and Willie the Kid). </p><p><br /></p><p><b>Bronze Nazareth & Leaf Dog - <i>Bundle Raps</i></b></p><p>Bronze returns with a banger. <i>Bundle Raps</i> sees the Wu affiliate out of Detroit teaming up with Leaf Dog, a producer/emcee from the UK group The Four Owls. Leaf Dog seemed to capture the ideal sound for Bronze on here, this is an album full of neck-snapping bangers. Raw hip hop at its finest. Most of the other albums on this list have somewhat similar approaches in sound, experimenting with distorted tempos and drawn-out vibes, often without drums, the emcee finding rapping space within silences or lower-key pockets enveloped within melodies. By contrast, <i>Bundle Raps</i> is just straight hard drums, heavy bass lines, chopped soul samples and raw rhymes delivered with relatively fast flows. When done to perfection, it's a reliably potent approach to boom bap. Leaf Dog crafts grimy beats and Bronze showcases elite level lyricism with densely weighted sixteens, heavy in metaphors, imagery and wordplay. Witness the track "The Deranged" featuring Bronze's group the Wisemen. The whole crew sounds at home over rapid tempos, with dexterous flows over a banging beat, and Bronze bewilders the intellect with fresh imagery in every bar, "<i>Running rhymes similar to Gail Sayers, double time/ Hell layers, walk thru urban cement Himalayas/ Specialist dart arson thru the vent sprayer/ Clouds rain, eyes turn to Alcatraz glaciers</i>."</p><p><br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nrVlXO4qsSg" width="480"></iframe></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Favorite tracks:</b> I think "Theatre Speak" (ft. Kevlaar 7) and "The Immaculate" are two of the best Bronze Nazareth songs ever. I love the track "Grime Lords" with June Megalodon, the way the emcees feed off each's energy and the ad-libbed freestyle vibe on it. "The War On Us" is heavy in creative linguistics while calling attention to travesties and justified paranoias all with poetic brevity in bars like "<i>They poisoned Flint, genocide thru the kitchen sink/ Snyder wife sittin with fish and minks/ the meat's pink, parasites parasailing thru ya blood type/ Police periscoping profiles off DNA sites</i>." I also love the short track "Burnt Leaf" and Bronze's verse on "Lyrical Wars" is amazing, this was one of the best lines on the album: "<i>Since K went beyond the world ceiling/ glass house bull throwing rocks from a pearl building</i>." </p><p><br />
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</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><u>Some honorable mentions:</u></p><p><b>Ankhlejohn - <i>As Above, So Below</i></b></p><p>Really dug this album. Ankhlejohn has a flow that fishtails around bars in a way that's often <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=84xmKeP6620" target="_blank">thrilling</a> to hear.</p><p><b>Zagnif Nori - Gemstones series</b></p><p>Nori dropped a slew of releases revolving around a rare gem theme, the style rugged as ever, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmbEYC9xTvc" target="_blank">Ruby</a> was a good one.</p><p><b>Illah Dayz & Bronze Nazareth - <i>Coby</i></b></p><p>This album dedicated to Illah's departed nephew named Coby dropped a little while after the death of Kobe and gave a pretty <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JkQmlDqPd8" target="_blank">powerful</a> elegiac and uplifting soundtrack to a difficult year.</p><p><b>Blu & Exile - <i>Miles: From an Interlude Called Life</i></b></p><p>Some amazing stuff on this extensive (95-minute) album, a stand out for me was the 8-minute encyclopedic black history lesson on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFf3kWdaEq8" target="_blank">"Roots of Blue."</a> </p><p><b>Your Old Droog - <i>Dump YOD (Krutoy Edition)</i></b></p><p>This guy has an old-school vibe that's laid back and rugged but funny. He sometimes reminds me of DOOM who he's done a few songs with. I loved the posse cut <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJEcsk9XgRk" target="_blank">"Pravda"</a> with Mach-Hommy, El-P, Tha God Fahim and Black Thought. There's a line from Tha God Fahim that sticks in my head because it's kinda hilarious: "<i>I'm mad shout on the buttons until the game break</i>."</p><p><b>Napoleon da Legend - <i>The Stuff of Legend</i></b></p><p>This guy dropped a bunch of good albums recently. I only learned about him last year but his style is incredible.</p><p><br /></p><p>Lastly, a couple other hip hop items from the past year stood out to me:</p><p>- Nas dropped a new album with a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOm0896a68Y" target="_blank">track</a> featuring the Firm including Cormega. This was a huge moment in hip hop history because these two legendary Queensbridge emcees grew up together, were close collaborators in the mid-90s, then had a falling out and a very public beef for a while, so it's great to see them having buried the hatchet and come together on a song. Also, Cormega appeared on Noreaga's "Drink Champs" podcast for a <a href="https://youtu.be/D1Uf3fOmo80" target="_blank">memorable discussion</a>, Mega dropped many gems, told many stories, and also conversed with Nas over FaceTime.</p><p>- I think this one kinda flew under the radar but I was pretty struck by it. The RZA did an in-depth <a href="https://youtu.be/9q89FEdwoYE" target="_blank">interview</a> with Ari Melber, among other things what stood out to me is RZA mentioned he has been working on <i>The Cure</i>, his long-awaited album that diehard fans have been pining for since the late-90s. RZA had always said the album was written, he just needed to find the right music. Well, it sounds like he's finding it, and that's fantastic news.</p>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9q89FEdwoYE" width="480"></iframe>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-51684877334870257102021-02-19T23:24:00.003-06:002021-02-19T23:24:52.953-06:00Peace CodeX <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKNqLEG7dbDtN8lqq4xCOvWYck9Z9uizQsUa5AK7ZNre9c2ayQmhjZVJThjdpPldYBbBFfRB5ZikoFOkMASA4gQxhyphenhyphenhF_N9YD7uqOPzNUF-JVOXlJr6PKTh4ngoA8FFspfWaZLBvM49A/s2048/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1622" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKNqLEG7dbDtN8lqq4xCOvWYck9Z9uizQsUa5AK7ZNre9c2ayQmhjZVJThjdpPldYBbBFfRB5ZikoFOkMASA4gQxhyphenhyphenhF_N9YD7uqOPzNUF-JVOXlJr6PKTh4ngoA8FFspfWaZLBvM49A/w506-h640/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="506" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Peace CodeX from <i>CodeX</i> (1974) by Maurice Roche</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> <p></p>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-56188878781940770482021-02-07T10:58:00.011-06:002021-03-06T11:42:53.336-06:00Life and Death During the Pandemic Era<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTxobUfqyaUZ8vec69_bW89_Atj4HjrewFYzmtoNcOv36hNi6pS3rzsSR9IBCsNvB9Rz_QsoZMRRFqP79xU595h58wm7Twz5SIBTuEktHI92zvWsj91Ma5kCzX74YL6kSaQ1JDOlPR60Q/s1234/IMG_1481.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1234" data-original-width="828" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTxobUfqyaUZ8vec69_bW89_Atj4HjrewFYzmtoNcOv36hNi6pS3rzsSR9IBCsNvB9Rz_QsoZMRRFqP79xU595h58wm7Twz5SIBTuEktHI92zvWsj91Ma5kCzX74YL6kSaQ1JDOlPR60Q/w269-h400/IMG_1481.jpg" width="269" /></a></div><br /><p>The last several years I've written annual recap blog posts sharing things from the past year that inspired me (places I traveled, books I read, pieces I wrote, music I loved, etc), but up until now I couldn't bring myself to do so about this past year because, well, fuck 2020. <span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><p>If you're reading this I hope you and those you love are healthy and thriving and 2021 is off to a flying start for you. We all know 2020 sucked. It felt like a season of death. We were all forced to become very familiar with thoughts about death. Many hundreds of thousands of people in America died (more than the number of American deaths in World War II**) from a new strain of coronavirus that apparently originated as a nasty pneumonia transmitted from bats to pangolins to people by way of a "wet market" in Wuhan, China before spreading rapidly across the entire planet. No place hit harder than America, a country of populous big cities and the only civilized nation on earth without universal healthcare. The news in America, which had seemed to get increasingly worse as the T**** presidency creeped into its fourth year of corruption and destruction, became filled with spiking coronavirus cases and mass death statistics. Famous people died one after another (in a year that began with the gut-wrenching tragedy of Kobe Bryant and his young daughter perishing in a helicopter crash in late January). A <a href="https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/baseball-lost-a-team-of-legends-this-year/" target="_blank">litany</a> of legendary Major League Baseball players died during the pandemic year including Tom Seaver, Phil Niekro, Lou Brock, Bob Gibson, Dick Allen, Whitey Ford, and Hank Aaron. Luminaries fell. Death numbers climbed. The morgues overflowed. Scenes out of movies, mass graves flanked by protective-suited medical workers, city parks become fresh burial grounds, this became normal. On the final day of 2020 we learned we had lost one of the all-time great rap artists MF DOOM, he actually died two months before they announced the news. </p><p>(**<i>Since some dipshit trolls posted misinformation in comments on my blogs about this, I want to briefly share my views on the Covid-19 death numbers. In my day job I work at a medical software company that essentially provides hospitals and EMS agencies with record-keeping systems. From the start of the pandemic, as our office closed down and everyone shifted to working from home, our medical director provided regular updates and insights on what the hospital data and studies in various medical journals was revealing. As Covid-19 first began to spike, they noticed the mortality rates from most other illnesses also increased, surges in Covid-19 hospitalizations leading to lesser levels of care available for other patients. That set the tone for what we've seen with enormous death numbers and some questioning which of those are directly due to Covid-19. A way to look at is this: over time there's an average number of expected deaths each month based on recent years of data and during this pandemic the total death numbers have skyrocketed such that, compared to years past, there have been in aggregate more than 400,000 <u>excess deaths</u>. Parsing which of those people drew their last breath directly and specifically as a result of Covid-19 is difficult but, like I mentioned, those who didn't suffer from coronavirus were dying at unusually high rates because of an overwhelmed public health system.)</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p>With all that stuff going on, I lost three friends in the pandemic year, three people I liked and connected with, funny people who made me laugh, three people who, going into 2020, I did not at all consider I might never see again or that they might not live to see 2021. From the shock of those deaths I spent much of the past year in a state of grieving. It's been difficult to process it all, felt like painful debts accumulated because how can we pay due respects to the dead when we can't gather to honor their memories in wakes or funerals?</p><p>First it was my friend Richard who died in early April last year. Richard was an incredibly cool person, a true Renaissance man, a poet, a philosopher, a novelist who worked in Austin as a professor and played in several bands as a musician, he was a wisecracking Jewish guy from the Bronx who loved to tell stories and talk about literature and philosophy. I loved him and he inspired me. I wrote a <a href="https://finwakeatx.blogspot.com/2020/04/a-tribute-to-austin-finnegans-wake.html" target="_blank">memorial</a> about him at my other blog after he passed. I found it hard to accept I would never see him again. He had been fighting cancer for a couple years and we stayed in touch, but I wasn't allowing myself to consider that he might die and I took the news of his passing pretty hard. My memory drew up everything it could recall, a podcast episode we recorded together, him reciting poetry and songs at parties, our many inspiring discussions, him schooling some racist assholes in an argument one time. Then I realized I had a few old voicemails from him saved on my phone, he had called me to share a bunch of thoughts once after we'd had a deep conversation about something. Hearing those helped me remember and appreciate who he was, to find a little closure and say goodbye. I want to share something I <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OzUKwcIUr1s" target="_blank">found on YouTube</a> here---it's a video of an early-1990s jam session with Richard and his band Orangutango from Austin (he published a <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Troubadours-Death-Richard-Lee-Price/dp/1523419199" target="_blank">novel</a> about his experiences as a musician in the thriving Austin music scene). Richard is the guy on saxophone and he absolutely slays it. I love seeing him and his skills while in his prime. May he rest in peace.</p><p>In May my <a href="https://finwakeatx.blogspot.com/2020/05/renowned-educator-and-finnegans-wake.html" target="_blank">favorite</a> Joyce scholar, John Bishop, whose work I'd written an in-depth four-part study about, died after contracting Covid-19. His <i>Book of the Dark</i> remains the best of the books on <i>Finnegans Wake. </i>Bishop's scholarship, his analytical approach to literature combined with a facility for expressing his ideas in a clear manner and with a sense of humor, this had an enormous impact on me and my approach to reading. (Listen to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tMb4l2ie3g" target="_blank">this interview</a> of John Bishop with my friend Gerry Fialka.)</p><p>During the summer, in the span of two days, two friends of mine lost their parents. My friend Nikki from up the street, she moved her dad from southeast Texas up to Austin to be closer to him while he was suffering from a number of illnesses. He was staying in a house down the street from me and required regular care. I met him shortly before he died. He was bed-ridden, enjoying the final days of his life smoking cigarettes, drinking whiskey, and watching tv. I didn't know him, but Nikki would tell me stories about him. He had an extremely heavy Texas accent (same as Nikki, like a deep Cajun accent, with a great sense of humor), he was a pretty wild dude, she told me how once he drove his Harley inside a bar, revved it like crazy doing donuts, then sped away and temporarily evaded the pursuing police cars by turning his lights off on a country highway. </p><p>Then the next day I learned that my longtime friend from childhood who I'll call Spit (short for his surname Spataro, his name is Anthony but everyone I grew up with had nicknames) suddenly lost his mother. Chiara Spataro was 63 years old, a matriarch in a big and tight-knit Italian family, a powerful force, nobody who knew her would forget her. I have so many memories of her I will cherish and keep. Growing up in NY, I spent a lot of time hanging out at the Spataro house. Chiara was a mother of three sons, all hockey players, and she cooked a big dinner every night. I'd be there hanging out and I'd eat dinner with the family and she'd mock me for the bizarre dietary quirks I had as a kid. The Spataro fam is a deep-rooted Italian family, Chiara was from Naples and spoke Italian, they had a family butcher shop in Brooklyn where we sometimes hung out as kids, and I remember the big family, Chiara and her siblings and cousins used to gather and hold these boisterous card games at their house, all speaking Italian and playing Texas hold'em. What I will always remember about Chiara (aka Claire) was that she was a tough lady and she <i>always</i> had my back. To give some context here---we all grew up playing ice hockey together in travel leagues around New York and New Jersey, and let's just say it could be a pugilistic environment, fights in hockey games, brawls in the stands, fights at the hotels or parking lots, this stuff was not unusual at the time. Our hockey team (the entire organization, actually) got banned from the state of New Jersey around this time because of so many fights. Well, after a game once at a hockey rink inside the Palisades mall, somehow I got into a fracas with some asshole in the food court. I was around 13 at the time and some older kid who was probably 16 didn't like the way I was looking at him so he got up and got loud and tried to beat me up. Seeing this, Claire got up and got right in the kid's face and shouted his punk ass down, then when the boy's parents tried to get involved she shouted them down too. She just ferociously cursed them out right there in the middle of the food court on a Sunday afternoon. These people did not want to catch a beatdown from the loud Italian lady cursing at them in the middle of that food court. I sat down to eat my Burger King breakfast now feeling extra safe next to Claire as we watched that kid and his parents scurry off. She was a warrior, she stood up for me and I'm eternally grateful for that. I want to express my condolences to the whole Spataro family, Chiara was truly one of a kind and I know she will be missed.</p><p>Later on in the pandemic year, a friend named Molly was in the hospital with a mysterious illness, her husband providing us and her other friends with regular updates via email. We were all pulling for her and hoping it would all be fine, she was 45 years old and hadn't been sick before that we knew of. The news seemed to be getting better and then it suddenly turned bad. I'll never forget that shock of hearing the news of her death on a Tuesday morning in October. I'd gotten to know her pretty well over several years in the same group of friends, she was an exceedingly kind and cool person, always someone I sought out at parties because she was easy to talk to, she had an interesting background (professional film editor who grew up in Hawaii), and she always seemed genuinely interested in hearing what I had to say. The news of her death seemed to stop me in my tracks. I felt like a zombie and had to work a regular workday. Prior to Molly's passing, my view on death had always been basically that death is not always a horrible thing for the deceased themselves as much as it is a horrible experience for the loved ones left behind mourning them and indeed her husband and teenage daughter are unimaginably devastated. I just remember that day I felt so sad for Molly, and it struck me in a deep way how tenuous this life is and I just kept thinking about how grateful I am to be alive, I felt so thankful for this life and this existence, life's thread felt perilously breakable. <i>How terrible to have this end</i>, my brain thought. I walked around outside and I was relishing the clearness of the blue sky and the feeling of a light wind. I wondered where Molly could have gone, I thought her soul could be off in other galaxies right now, soaring through other dimensions for all I know, but it felt tragic that she would never again get to experience the feeling of a light wind across her face on a nice sunny afternoon in Austin. I'd been in the habit of counting my blessings during the difficult year, but at that point I was counting my breaths, wondering how many more times my lungs might get to breathe before this existence ends.</p><p>Just ten days after Molly passed, I got the news that a friend of mine named Scott, who I had worked closely with for three-and-half years, was found dead. He was 36 years old. That news messed me up badly. It's hard to write about it. I think about him every day. He and I were teammates at work, we sat together and talked and joked and solved work problems together almost every day for more than three years. We went out for lunches often. We got beers after work. We had common interests, he was my age, he was a writer who published several novels, he loved to talk about books and authors. He was also a huge hip hop fan, especially east coast rap, and we talked about that often. Even though he had a gift of gab, he didn't waste too much time with small talk, he always wanted to discuss the profound mysteries of existence and reality, always. What's been so weird in the wake of his death is that he and I had so many conversations about death that I keep recalling. He wrote a <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Keep-Ghost-Scott-Kelly/dp/1514289423/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">trilogy of novels</a> about a character who fakes his death, it was an idea of great interest to him. He used to explain his theories to me in detail. That also made it difficult to process the reality of his passing. We'd just had a long phone convo and regularly exchanged texts in the weeks before his death. Cause of death is still unknown, only that he was found in his apartment and it didn't appear to be suicide. I've never felt death so close to me. That his story concluded so abruptly, his life cut short so young, that really hurt. Still hard to process. I cried for days, there were nights where I woke up sobbing uncontrollably. He was going through a rough stretch in his life and he was angry at me for some reason and we didn't get to resolve it, and days later he was dead. Few people I've ever known cherished conversation as much as he did. He lived for intellectual debates, but he wasn't a jerk about it, he just loved to make logical arguments (he was a contract negotiator by profession) and he always wanted to hear what I thought about things. He was brilliant and sarcastic. He was <i>always</i> funny, that's what stays with me. He had a wickedly morbid and self-deprecating sense of humor, the humor never relented and his jokes rarely missed. Even on days when I was sick of hearing his voice, he made me laugh. His sense of humor is what I will always remember. His accent had a southern tinge, his voice had a unique vocal fry and he'd say my name a lot when he talked to me---"You see, Peter, here's why I think there's no such thing as free will," he'd say and then explain his theories about quantum physics, dispelling logical fallacies. A repeated joke, so dark yet so funny in the delivery, was he'd say, "Well, Peter, the thing is I don't have a soul." Ugh, I hate that he's gone. I will hopefully write about him more in the future because its too painful to go into more at this point, but here is his <a href="https://www.dignitymemorial.com/obituaries/victoria-tx/scott-kelly-9886166" target="_blank">obituary</a> page and I shared some memories of him on there. May he rest peacefully.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">* * *</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Helping me get through all of this has been my dog ROA. He's a large pitbull puppy, not yet 2 years old, a force of pure joy and exuberance and playfulness. It's hard to be down for long with him around and he never leaves my side. He is an absolute maniac and watching him run around and play fills me with joy. A couple days after my friend Scott died, I was pretty rattled, felt like I got hit by a bus, I was an emotional wreck, and one day we took ROA to the dog park on a sunny late afternoon. That day ROA got into playing with his buddy Luke, a big bulldog who's about the same age and also has a ton of energy. These two large puppies always have so much fun wrestling and chasing each other and pinning each other down and nibbling on each other's faces, it's honestly one of the most pure and beautiful things you could ever witness and that day watching them it just fed my soul and healed the pain I was feeling. I took a long video of it---the sun is low, the shadows are long, and these two maniac puppies are having the time of their lives, I go back and watch it whenever I need a boost.</p><p style="text-align: left;">This is what they look like when they're playing (ROA is the black pittie and Luke is the brown and white bulldog):</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPe6Co8PpBB9ye4UVLcRvgj9guYkP9wXDiAC7ggiDyU15ixlqBCE7YxWnPtpgnqgrESGNr7wSQi1vazKYov-WHJ_mmJVzPtvK7jOfNdoZhm3HIHv5p7ODJftccuS7OCjdfOeITE7uZor8/s1280/IMG_1813.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="591" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPe6Co8PpBB9ye4UVLcRvgj9guYkP9wXDiAC7ggiDyU15ixlqBCE7YxWnPtpgnqgrESGNr7wSQi1vazKYov-WHJ_mmJVzPtvK7jOfNdoZhm3HIHv5p7ODJftccuS7OCjdfOeITE7uZor8/w296-h640/IMG_1813.PNG" width="296" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCX5Y-3u3ja_t7n9GULozMaBVt1G1KYGs4b1mtwLfTrP86d3z4I-PndqkGJ5n8pU4CBvmPlnuYVKAVb1m1JW-576C3Vdd5iExcnMMhjSPeLOt3zpkFY7B6ZxaM7QznMG6qQ94UqchfdA/s2016/IMG_1149.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCX5Y-3u3ja_t7n9GULozMaBVt1G1KYGs4b1mtwLfTrP86d3z4I-PndqkGJ5n8pU4CBvmPlnuYVKAVb1m1JW-576C3Vdd5iExcnMMhjSPeLOt3zpkFY7B6ZxaM7QznMG6qQ94UqchfdA/w400-h300/IMG_1149.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;">And here are some more pics of my dog because he's amazing:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpDH3I25sePI2wSGF1QdA-8MraXClWGLQ58K_yIlh4c6NxrlumFTBkdGONIiKyQEY9pyeUk7J5ukp4785GtR2E3tnBXlsLiJRBEBueyUntFvA9HnSrcpuRvBsVGUukBSzrDnT2pAoKCo/s1280/IMG_0604.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpDH3I25sePI2wSGF1QdA-8MraXClWGLQ58K_yIlh4c6NxrlumFTBkdGONIiKyQEY9pyeUk7J5ukp4785GtR2E3tnBXlsLiJRBEBueyUntFvA9HnSrcpuRvBsVGUukBSzrDnT2pAoKCo/w300-h400/IMG_0604.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikpoxQAtgUyvbxE9f93Juey0tqr34UqA3MCA7gL0UrLbBoJb5aZ_E_y-9jDEbx0VYEJ5Ij9a572SKS-WDd7WJ3pGOiSVardB7owT9s-TOdHEznpqUs6wQt1iWR1zhKRe7BtDW-5ACMHGo/s1280/IMG_3930.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikpoxQAtgUyvbxE9f93Juey0tqr34UqA3MCA7gL0UrLbBoJb5aZ_E_y-9jDEbx0VYEJ5Ij9a572SKS-WDd7WJ3pGOiSVardB7owT9s-TOdHEznpqUs6wQt1iWR1zhKRe7BtDW-5ACMHGo/w300-h400/IMG_3930.JPG" title="When the good boy turned 1 year old." width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puppy King on his first birthday.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIKHmeu5FOjdIRP1vAB2hhstZmwJ10Hm-aI4rE6VCByibrIGZuJSMk9L2vtlB_18DDQVO9CGV3vax3197AOioOfU91nGftgGkvz3Z2qT0FSsBRvPD5S0Vbzotg58U7-Xfk-SrZImubn8/s2016/IMG_0975.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIKHmeu5FOjdIRP1vAB2hhstZmwJ10Hm-aI4rE6VCByibrIGZuJSMk9L2vtlB_18DDQVO9CGV3vax3197AOioOfU91nGftgGkvz3Z2qT0FSsBRvPD5S0Vbzotg58U7-Xfk-SrZImubn8/w300-h400/IMG_0975.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMIf2-Xc_L2p9NJGL8jkGvgfg2JTo_bxfl-Pcdu7Pv5x3HQycHNYcC1ddxoM_KGnUR7LS6hE68xZEuhGQ_XLJ3K_oj4nFvvUPeWrStp93mHzwlPoaQznRHISZXw-UjencJ-FBLLSM0fs/s2016/IMG_0501.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMIf2-Xc_L2p9NJGL8jkGvgfg2JTo_bxfl-Pcdu7Pv5x3HQycHNYcC1ddxoM_KGnUR7LS6hE68xZEuhGQ_XLJ3K_oj4nFvvUPeWrStp93mHzwlPoaQznRHISZXw-UjencJ-FBLLSM0fs/w300-h400/IMG_0501.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">* * *</p><p><br /></p><p>I have been doing a lot of reading during the quarantine. Last year I read 40 books. Here are my favorite reads from the past year:</p><p>1. <i>Time of Useful Consciousness</i> by Lawrence Ferlinghetti</p><p>2. <i>Little Boy: A Novel</i> by Lawrence Ferlinghetti</p><p>[I read several books by Ferlinghetti last year and these two were my favorite. The first one is an epic poem on the history of America, the title "Time of Useful Consciousness" is an aeronautical term "denoting the time between when one loses oxygen and when one passes out, the brief time in which some life-saving action is possible," an image highly relevant to the past year. <i>Little Boy: A Novel</i> is an incredible book that you should read. An endless run-on sentence poetry stream autobiography-slash-social commentary by a 100-year-old poet. More about it below.]</p><p>3. <i>Ducks, Newburyport</i> by Lucy Ellmann</p><p>[An enormous and enticing cinderblock of a book. Garners comparisons to Joyce but reads more like Gaddis to me. Mostly made up of extremely long stretches of thought-stream prose reaching 1,000 pages within which Ellmann weaves an up-to-date to the very moment modern American tale. Published in 2019, it's full of Trump anxieties, gun nuts, American history, Native American history, and most presciently one of the opening pages mentions this: "the fact that Ben says everybody on earth will soon be starving or suffocating or dying of SARS or Ebola or H5N1, the fact that H5N1 only has to mutate a few more times and we're all goners." (p. 4)]</p><p>4. <i>Ballpark: Baseball in the American City</i> by Paul Goldberger</p><p>5. <i>Baseball Prospectus 2020</i></p><p>[Golberger's study of the history of ballpark architecture is wonderful. And the Prospectus annual keeps improving, now on its 26th year and the 2021 edition is great too.]</p><p>6. <i>Hamlet's Mill: An Essay Investigating the Origins of Human Knowledge and Its Transmission Through Myth </i>by Giorgio de Santillana and Hertha von Dechend</p><p>[I wish there were more books like this. A study of the precession of the equinoxes and astronomical observations embedded within mythologies across the world. I've written about it before and will have more to say about it soon.]</p><p>7. <i>Reader's Block</i> by David Markson</p><p>[I re-read this favorite because it's mainly a poetic meditation on death and a cataloguing of how famous people died.]</p><p>8. <i>Don't Read Poetry: A Book About How to Read Poems</i> by Stephanie Burt</p><p>[The message of this book is that for the interested reader there is so much poetry out there, so many varieties of poets and poems, that you as a reader need only explore different poems and poets and you will eventually find what most satisfies your tastes. Learn what kind of poems you like and seek that out, a more rewarding approach than slogging through stuff that bores you just because it's famous or whatever.]</p><p>9. <i>ARK</i> by Ronald Johnson</p><p>10. <i>Radi Os</i> by Ronald Johnson</p><p>[From the aforementioned book by Stephanie Burt, I discovered the modern poet Ronald Johnson and he immediately became a favorite. These two brilliant works, essentially making up one epic poem that is his magnum opus, <i>ARK</i> and <i>Radi Os</i> (the latter an erasure poem of <i>Paradise Lost</i>) became part of my canon of essential books and I read each multiple times.]</p><p>11. <i>Delmore Schwartz: The Life of an American Poet</i> by James Atlas</p><p>12. <i>Summer Knowledge: Selected Poems</i> by Delmore Schwartz</p><p>[The Brooklyn poet Delmore Schwartz has become a subject of great interest to me, a rewarding escape when I was down in a pit of sorrow and mourning for a while. A series of posts on Schwartz will continue at this blog soon.]</p><p><br /></p><p>I wrote a bunch of things during the past year, including publishing a few articles, here are the most noteworthy things I wrote:</p><p>1. <u><a href="https://muse.jhu.edu/article/773343" target="_blank">Book Review: <i>Little Boy: A Novel</i> by Lawrence Ferlinghetti</a></u></p><p>[This was an article published in the <i>James Joyce Quarterly</i>. Full piece is behind a paywall but I wrote more about Ferlinghetti and why I loved his latest book <a href="https://www.abuildingroam.com/2020/11/new-article-in-james-joyce-quarterly-on.html" target="_blank">here</a> as well.]</p><p>2. <u><a href="https://hiphopgoldenage.com/killah-priest-rocket-to-nebula-review/" target="_blank">Album Review: The Interstellar Corridors of Killah Priest's "Rocket to Nebula"</a></u></p><p>[<i>Rocket to Nebula</i> was my favorite album from last year, an experiential record that I got to soak in while driving through the mountain ranges of Colorado on the only trip out of Texas I've taken this past year, the powerful chords of this record humming and its message making me take flight in those vast altitudes. Don't miss this article, it's a special one.]</p><p>3. <u><a href="https://hiphopgoldenage.com/who-got-the-camera-by-kevlaar-7-bronze-nazareth-a-lyrical-breakdown/" target="_blank">Who Got the Camera? by Kevlaar 7 & Bronze Nazareth: A Lyrical Breakdown</a></u></p><p>[This is actually the first installment from a book that's been in the works for a while. It's a breakdown of two verses from a 2011 rap song about police brutality and racist violence, examining the powerful and prescient messages shared by the late Kevlaar 7 and his brother Bronze Nazareth in their music and what I learned from it. This was published at the website Hip Hop Golden Age in the wake of the George Floyd protests.]</p><p>4. <u><a href="https://www.abuildingroam.com/2020/12/notes-on-delmore-schwartz-part-1.html" target="_blank">Notes on Delmore Schwartz</a></u></p><p>[Ongoing <a href="https://www.abuildingroam.com/2020/12/notes-on-delmore-schwartz-part-1.html" target="_blank">series</a> across my two <a href="https://finwakeatx.blogspot.com/2020/12/notes-on-delmore-schwartz-part-2.html" target="_blank">blogs</a> looking into the life and writings of American poet Delmore Schwartz who died in 1966. He wrote great poems and was an insanely brilliant and inspiring human being, he was also obsessed with <i>Finnegans Wake</i> and baseball which is what I focus on in this series.]</p><p>5. <u><a href="https://finwakeatx.blogspot.com/2020/07/the-mystery-of-himsel-in-furniture-fw.html" target="_blank">"the mystery of himsel in furniture"</a> and other stuff on <i>Finnegans Wake</i></u></p><p>[During peak pandemic times I wrote a bunch of stuff about <i>Finnegans Wake</i> on my other blog including a <a href="https://finwakeatx.blogspot.com/2020/07/the-mystery-of-himsel-in-furniture-fw.html" target="_blank">piece</a> about what the dead leave behind, a piece <a href="https://finwakeatx.blogspot.com/2020/06/16-june-1904-and-letter-in-finnegans.html" target="_blank">about</a> the postal service, and a <a href="https://finwakeatx.blogspot.com/2020/06/latest-examples-of-reading-news-inside.html" target="_blank">piece</a> about police brutality and monuments to oppression. After the virus hit, our Austin <i>Wake</i> reading group took to regular Zoom meetings and grew to include people joining from LA, San Francisco, Toronto, Ohio, Atlanta, and Taiwan. These convos provided regular ideas for writing on the <i>Wake</i>.]</p>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-50344178930758492312020-12-14T22:51:00.004-06:002020-12-23T16:52:35.281-06:00Notes on Delmore Schwartz (Part 1)<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYnO-DCqfw6JMiT4Q_hyphenhyphenOqojyPNphrRTsYbxJPtk4l4qwNVIOPa68tQ5DPoN7ikquKerIS9gKTMAmnsNzwveyYy2-QBWe7B4Ufv8_fD8XYt5DuVgHDuB6Xc24gVBd50Mldt2hR8Zoum8/s2048/Delmore-Schwartz.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpYnO-DCqfw6JMiT4Q_hyphenhyphenOqojyPNphrRTsYbxJPtk4l4qwNVIOPa68tQ5DPoN7ikquKerIS9gKTMAmnsNzwveyYy2-QBWe7B4Ufv8_fD8XYt5DuVgHDuB6Xc24gVBd50Mldt2hR8Zoum8/s320/Delmore-Schwartz.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The young Delmore Schwartz, probably sometime in the late 1930s. </td></tr></tbody></table><br />A couple years ago I became interested in the American poet Delmore Schwartz (December 8, 1913 - July 11, 1966) when I learned that two of his greatest passions in life were <i>Finnegans Wake</i> and major league baseball which struck me since those are <a href="https://finwakeatx.blogspot.com/2018/08/baseball-in-finnegans-wake.html" target="_blank">probably</a> my two favorite things in the universe. At the time I was working on my <a href="https://finwakeatx.blogspot.com/2018/06/the-pantheon-of-finnegans-woke-or-why.html" target="_blank">big compendium</a> of notable figures who loved <i>Finnegans Wake</i>. The Brooklyn-born poet Delmore Schwartz was a <i>Wake</i>-head as devoted as anyone on that list---he was known to always keep a battered, heavily annotated copy of <i>Finnegans Wake </i>with him<i> </i>and he'd often pull it out and recite pages. His copies of the book would fall apart from overuse, he went through several. Peter Chrisp wrote a <a href="http://peterchrisp.blogspot.com/2018/04/delmore-schwartzs-wake.html" target="_blank">wonderful blog post</a> going into detail about Delmore Schwartz's surviving copy of <i>Finnegans Wake</i> which is <a href="https://brbl-dl.library.yale.edu/vufind/Record/3791456" target="_blank">archived online</a> by the Beinecke Library at Yale. There I discovered this historical nugget which blew my mind---biographer James Atlas notes that Delmore Schwartz would annotate his copy of <i>Finnegans Wake</i> while sitting in the stands at the Polo Grounds watching his beloved New York Giants play baseball.<p></p><p><span> </span>That one anecdote really captivates me. Envisioning Delmore Schwartz, the self-proclaimed poet laureate of the Atlantic, sitting in the Polo Grounds, that legendary old ballpark in upper Manhattan, watching the Giants of the 1940s and 50s while jotting notes in his tattered copy of <i>Finnegans Wake, </i>conjuring that image brings me immense joy. It's a potent conjunction of really interesting and important things in my universe. Part of why I am writing this series of posts about Delmore Schwartz is as a way to process why this is so meaningful to me. </p><p><span> Delmore Schwartz is most well-known for his short story "In Dreams Begin Responsibilities" which was published in 1937 when he was 24 years old. Vladimir Nabokov considered it among his half dozen favorite stories. The story first appeared in the <i>Partisan Review</i> and then was published as part of a collection of Delmore's work (entitled <i>In Dreams Begin Responsibilities</i>) that included poems, short stories, and a verse drama. That first book made him famous at a young age and while he never quite matched those heights again, he had a productive career as a poet, short story writer, literary critic, film critic, poetry editor, and literature professor. In 1959 he became the youngest person ever to be awarded the Bollingen Prize for Poetry for his collection of poems <i>Summer Knowledge</i> (which included poems from his entire career, thus the award was a sort of lifetime achievement recognition). </span></p><p><span> While I had some fascination with Delmore and his work, it wasn't until I read his biography <i>Delmore Schwartz:</i> <i>The Life of an American Poet</i> by James Atlas that I got really drawn in. I found his story to be very inspiring, fascinating, and sad. I was really moved by that book. He had a shitty childhood, at a young age he was often dragged into the middle of ugly quarrels between his parents. His father was having affairs and then ditched the family and died young. Delmore (and you'll notice it's the habit of anyone who writes about him to refer to him by his first name) was brought up by his mother who had her own set of issues. Once you learn these stories from his life then his writing takes on new significance because so much of what he wrote was autobiographical. </span>The story "In Dreams Begin Responsibilities" is all about a dream where the main character watches a film of his parents' courtship in Coney Island and hollers at the screen trying to stop it. <span>"New Year's Eve" was another story I enjoyed and it helps to know that the partygoers described were all real people in the <i>Partisan Review</i> crowd of NY intellectuals in the 1940s. </span>Another example, the verse drama "Shenandoah" is about a bris where a child was to be given the bizarre name Shenandoah and the child's uncle tries to intervene to protect the kid from a lifetime of abuse for his ridiculous name. Delmore wrote with a great sense of humor and this story plays out a little bit like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDABzGe94GU" target="_blank">the bris in <i>Seinfeld</i></a>---but it's based on his own life and the shock of family members when his mother bestowed on him the unusual name Delmore, which his uncle really did try to prevent. </p><p><span> Reading in the Atlas biography about how the older Delmore eventually descended into paranoid psychosis, lashed out at his friends, ended up in a straitjacket in Bellevue, and eventually suffered an untimely death in 1966 at age 52 alone in a seedy Times Square hotel, it was depressing and sad not least because it brought to mind a writer friend of mine who just recently died at a young age after lashing out at friends and spiraling downward. One thing that really struck me was how, even during the worst periods of his manic psychosis and alcoholism, Delmore still managed to hold down a job as a professor, was still surrounded by adoring young women competing for his affections, and he still made an enormous impact on those who met him. His friend Saul Bellow went on to write <i>Humboldt's Gift</i> in 1975 (which won him the Nobel Prize for literature) which was all about how much his beloved buddy Delmore had inspired him. Lou Reed, who studied under Delmore Schwartz at Syracuse University in the early 1960s, knew the man during his crazy years yet was so deeply inspired by him that he wrote <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/articles/69810/o-delmore-how-i-miss-you" target="_blank">a poem</a> "O Delmore how I miss you" and wrote <a href="https://genius.com/Lou-reed-my-house-lyrics" target="_blank">a song about</a> Delmore's ghost visiting him on his 1981 album <i>Blue Mask</i>.<br /></span></p><p><span> Since finishing the James Atlas biography I have been reading all of Delmore's published writings, plus his letters, journals, and the aforementioned fictionalized account by Saul Bellow, <i>Humboldt's Gift</i>. Again, this research has all taken place in the aftermath of me losing a friend who died in late October. That friend of mine actually published several novels, and as I've been reading about and contemplating Delmore Schwartz I've been dwelling on the fact that, even though we can read things written by the dead and hear recollections from their friends, there's no way to really experience what that person was truly like to be around. So while I'm grateful that there's so much extant material I can dig through to learn more about Delmore Schwartz, what will always be lacking is the ability to hear the man in conversation, his specialty, the forum in which he was always such a huge inspiration to everyone who encountered him. </span></p><p>To illustrate my point, here is how Saul Bellow described his old friend in <i>Humboldt's Gift</i>:</p><p></p><blockquote>Orpheus, the son of Greenhorn, turned up in Greenwich Village with his ballads. He loved literature and intellectual conversation and argument, loved the history of thought. A big gentle handsome boy he put together his own combination of symbolism and street language. Into this mixture went Yeats, Apollinaire, Lenin, Freud, Morris R. Cohen, Gertrude Stein, baseball statistics, and Hollywood gossip. He brought Coney Island into the Aegean and united Buffalo Bill with Rasputin. He was going to join together the Art Sacrament and the Industrial USA as equal powers. Born (as he insisted) on a subway platform at Columbus Circle, his mother going into labor on the IRT, he intended to be a divine artist, a man of visionary states and enchantments, Platonic possession. He got a Rationalistic, Naturalistic education at CCNY. This was not easily reconciled with the Orphic. But all his desires were contradictory. He wanted to be magically and cosmically expressive and articulate, able to say <i>anything</i>; he wanted also to be wise, philosophical, to find the common ground of poetry and science, to prove that the imagination was just as potent as machinery, to free and bless humankind. (p. 120)</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>* * *</span></p><p>Reading about Delmore Schwartz and reading his journals, it quickly becomes apparent that no matter what was going on in his life, no matter how manically depressed he may have been at times, he would reliably return to two distinct lifelong passions to provide relief: major league baseball and <i>Finnegans Wake</i>. These two things are what I want to focus on in this series of posts because they serve the same role in my own life. </p><p><span> </span>This passage from <i>Delmore Schwartz: The Life of An American Poet</i> by James Atlas perfectly encapsulates Delmore Schwartz the baseball nut:</p><blockquote><p>Delmore's eager accumulation of knowledge was by no means confined to literature. He had a mania for baseball, that "drama in which the national life performed itself," and acquired over the years a compendious store of statistics on the New York Giants, who rewarded his attentions by winning the pennant every year from 1921 ("My first year as a fan," he once noted) through 1924. The memory of that triumphant era never faded from his mind, and toward the end of his life he was still capable of dazzling an audience by recalling the Giants' lineup and batting averages of some forty years before. In a late notebook, he remembered the excitement that had overwhelmed him in 1927, when "suddenly, in the depths of melancholy, electrifying news transformed my entire attitude toward existence. The Giants had acquired Rogers Hornsby, the greatest hitter by far in the National League, from the St. Louis Cardinals." As a child, he would race to the newsstand on 181st Street for a glance at the standings, and he used to spend hours loitering in a radio store on Broadway to listen to some crucial game. Twenty years later, when Delmore was living at Yaddo, the writers' colony in Saratoga Springs, he stood in a field admiring "the immense winter sky, crowded with the stars in constellations, but desiring all the while to get to the <i>World-Telegram</i> and read of the winter baseball news." (p. 17)</p></blockquote><p></p><p>That last line is especially relatable right now because I've spent many nights lately looking at the stars in the winter sky while also pining for some Hot Stove baseball news. </p><p><span> </span>While reading through the book <i>Portrait of Delmore: Journals and Notes of Delmore Schwartz: 1939-1959 </i>(edited by Elizabeth Pollet) there was a passage that stood out to me for its beautiful and vivid description of him attending a baseball game in the spring of 1942. It's short and compact but there's so much to take from it so I want to try to unpack it here.</p><p><b></b></p><blockquote><p><b>April 19, 1942:</b></p><p><b>The calculated disarray of the garage region, the railroad yards, and the used-car lots. The painted lines of the bridge, the murals of the fences. </b></p><p><b><span> "Our country is now at war..." said the announcer over the public-address system. Directions for going away, and hiding under the grandstand or bleachers.</span><br /></b></p><p><span><b><span> Much feeling against Stengel and Paul Waner. The Giants scored three in the first. Mize hit the wall twice with doubles, thinking the first time that he had hit a homer. Melton argued with the umpire in the first, Witek looked pathetic, Tobin disgusted. Werber had a rooting section loudly against him.</span><br /></b></span></p><p><span><span><b><span> A purple-black curtain of cloud, like a quilt or like a great Assyrian army with chariots, was over the sky. The crowd was pleased that the Red Sox had defeated the Yankees.</span><br /></b></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><b> A strong wind blowing, much smoke, much soot from the railroad yards, the fragrancy of Pittsburgh. I admired the strength of the locomotive, the instruments (what are the names?), pistons, which drew up and down, and moved the wheels. So, too, a child might be given a toy railroad train, Industrialismus. (p. 56)</b></span></span></span></span></p></blockquote><p>Now, when I first read this I thought it must be a description of him attending a game at the Polo Grounds in upper Manhattan to see his beloved Giants. Delmore was born in Brooklyn but he grew up in Washington Heights very close to Coogan's Bluff and the Polo Grounds. He attended many games at the Polo Grounds and he used to invite his fellow writers to come watch games with him. He once told his publisher James Laughlin, "It has been observed that anyone who has not seen me at the Polo Grounds has not seen me." (from <i>Letters of Delmore Schwartz</i>, p. 272)</p><p><span> </span>But when I looked up this game on Baseball-reference it turns out this actually took place in Boston (at a different defunct historical ballpark, the home of the old Boston Braves), which makes sense because Delmore was living in Cambridge, Massachusetts and teaching at Harvard during this time. Here's <a href="https://www.baseball-reference.com/boxes/BSN/BSN194204190.shtml" target="_blank">the game</a> he attended, the NY Giants visiting the Boston Braves:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6DDOQObmpYS26tCPFY4D0KAsz4RpCilleejq-xYbChtfgdv-QwEmm3UGjygi14uzZ0Q5dzPpOVwu2iwWpImkF2b_CGKaa5ROqZSvcyBNdW32if-Z-9i83tplI6wgSjQ6PF5keoColA4/s805/Screen+Shot+2020-12-14+at+9.13.56+PM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="805" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6DDOQObmpYS26tCPFY4D0KAsz4RpCilleejq-xYbChtfgdv-QwEmm3UGjygi14uzZ0Q5dzPpOVwu2iwWpImkF2b_CGKaa5ROqZSvcyBNdW32if-Z-9i83tplI6wgSjQ6PF5keoColA4/w640-h400/Screen+Shot+2020-12-14+at+9.13.56+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><a href="http://Baseball-reference.com">Baseball-reference.com</a> has the full play-by-play where you can see that Delmore indeed had the details correct. Let's go through it line by line:</p><p><b>The calculated disarray of the garage region, the railroad yards, and the used-car lots. The painted lines of the bridge, the murals of the fences.</b> You can easily envision from this description what the surrounding area of the ballpark looked like. The murals on the fences were the big advertisements all over the outfield walls at Boston Braves Field as seen <a href="http://dev.sabr.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/Stadiums-Braves-Field-Boston-5340.85-CSU.jpg" target="_blank">here</a>. </p><p><b>"Our country is now at war..." said the announcer over the public-address system. Directions for going away, and hiding under the grandstand or bleachers. </b>This game took place just four months after the United States officially entered into World War II in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor. Pretty crazy to imagine they were already warning fans about being prepared for possible attacks and hiding under the grandstand. Big league baseball would soon be impacted when several players across the sport were drafted into military service, including the Giants' #4 and 5 hitters from this game, Johnny Mize and Willard Marshall.</p><p><b>Much feeling against Stengel and Paul Waner. </b>I love this note. The kind of thing you don't see in a box score---the home crowd was really getting on Braves manager Casey Stengel and Paul Waner. Looking at the context it's easy to see why. Mind you, this was the early phase of Casey Stengel's career before he became an icon as manager of the championship dynasty Yankees in the 1950s. When Delmore was at Braves Field for this game, Stengel's stewardship of the Braves had led to three consecutive seasons of 7th-place finishes and they were on their way to a fourth consecutive 7th place finish. The hometown fans were also probably angry that the Braves had blown the previous day's game against the Giants when they gave up 3 runs in the 9th to lose 8-5. The other guy who the fans were apparently giving a hard time was future Hall of Fame outfielder Paul Waner, the team's best player who had taken an 0-for-4 in that previous day's loss and came into this game batting .188 (he fared no better in this game, going 0-for-4). </p><p><b>The Giants scored three in the first. Mize hit the wall twice with doubles, thinking the first time that he had hit a homer. </b>Johnny Mize, another future Hall of Famer, had been traded to the Giants the previous December so this was one of his first games in a Giants uniform and he made a good impression. Mize mashed for the Giants in that 1942 season, finished fifth in MVP voting, and then got pulled into military service and went off to fight in World War II, missing the next three full seasons. </p><p><b>Melton argued with the umpire in the first, Witek looked pathetic, Tobin disgusted. Werber had a rooting section loudly against him. </b>Interesting that he notes Cliff Melton, the starting pitcher for the Giants that day, was arguing with the umpire in the first inning---maybe because he walked the first batter?---he didn't get into trouble in the 1st and ended up pitching a complete game for the win. The comment about Mickey Witek, the Giants second baseman, seems pretty harsh! Then you notice Witek went 0-for-4 and grounded into two double plays. The keen-eyed baseball evaluator Delmore was clearly picking up on something because Witek would go on to lead the major leagues in grounding into double plays that season. "Tobin disgusted"---that would be the Braves starting pitcher Jim Tobin who failed to make it out of the 1st inning. "Werber had a rooting section loudly against him"---this one is interesting to try to figure out. Werber was playing third base and leading off for the Giants, but he wasn't an impactful player and while he had a couple hits in the game he didn't do much else. My guess is these well-informed and cranky Boston fans remembered Werber when he played for the Boston Red Sox for four seasons during the 1930s.</p><p><b>A purple-black curtain of cloud, like a quilt or like a great Assyrian army with chariots, was over the sky. The crowd was pleased that the Red Sox had defeated the Yankees. </b>This is the type of magnificent description you get when a gifted poet journals his experience at a baseball game. Also funny that he notes the crowd cheering when the out-of-town scoreboard showed the Boston Red Sox had defeated the Yankees in New York that day, 5-2. </p><p><b>A strong wind blowing, much smoke, much soot from the railroad yards, the fragrancy of Pittsburgh. I admired the strength of the locomotive, the instruments (what are the names?), pistons, which drew up and down, and moved the wheels. So, too, a child might be given a toy railroad train, Industrialismus. </b>Another set of fascinating first-person details. The Society of American Baseball Research website has a very <a href="https://sabr.org/journal/article/braves-field-an-imperfect-history-of-the-perfect-ballpark/" target="_blank">informative article</a> about the old Boston Braves Field (the Braves moved to Milwaukee before the 1953 season then bounced over to Atlanta in 1966) where they note the ballpark's close proximity to the Boston & Albany Railroad which eventually led to deterioration of the ballpark structure. You can see in the below picture (click to expand, see bottom right) how the rail yards were just beyond the left field fence. Delmore describes the experience of being there with such exactitude that you can smell the steel. Not bad for a brief entry in his journal. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjrCZ-Hdb1YLUbRHNJ6hkd9_QssrvHQ38HinoPqbw-73vBKySt30JMvqg0gA6WEzlJ_YJr7TxnRQScmJEjYK2YA6QpjtXZW8lDafxPdVbhi5ANMbjOxXhq9iGFALHr9wIHctkbrDqwwtk/s720/boston_braves_field.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="455" data-original-width="720" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjrCZ-Hdb1YLUbRHNJ6hkd9_QssrvHQ38HinoPqbw-73vBKySt30JMvqg0gA6WEzlJ_YJr7TxnRQScmJEjYK2YA6QpjtXZW8lDafxPdVbhi5ANMbjOxXhq9iGFALHr9wIHctkbrDqwwtk/w400-h253/boston_braves_field.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boston Braves Field (from <a href="https://www.ballparksofbaseball.com/ballparks/braves-field/" target="_blank">here</a>)</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Couple more notes about this game:</p><p>- This game featured no fewer than five future Hall of Famers: Mel Ott, Johnny Mize, Paul Waner, Ernie Lombardi, and Warren Spahn.</p><p>- Incredibly, this game actually featured the <i>major league debut</i> of the great lefty Warren Spahn. The 21-year-old entered the game in the 5th inning, retired both batters he faced, then was removed and only appeared in three more games the whole rest of the season (Casey Stengel got mad at him because he refused to throw at batters on purpose). Like Johnny Mize, Spahn enlisted in the military and spent the next three full seasons in military service. He fought at the Battle of the Bulge and was awarded a Purple Heart. Upon his return in 1946 he went on to pitch for 20 full seasons in the major leagues, finishing his career as one of the greatest pitchers of all time. And the poet Delmore Schwartz just so happened to witness his big league debut at Boston Braves field on a random Sunday afternoon in April 1942. </p><p><i>Read <a href="https://finwakeatx.blogspot.com/2020/12/notes-on-delmore-schwartz-part-2.html" target="_blank">Part 2 here</a>.</i></p>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-53980553876734428892020-12-13T19:31:00.009-06:002021-01-14T23:42:03.016-06:00RIP Dick Allen (1942-2020)<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVnJH6aE3f3NmgTYYwKToKCZ7rlxwV12CAhdx9EQV72SiIm9asC443DZFMC9pDO-8TUxRczxdv7hRkhg0igMlz9IXJaOSa6haNROBfUVa63kPCNSWcLjq8I_IR1RsjObiUQqmP7spq5E4/s903/Screen+Shot+2020-12-13+at+6.10.04+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="903" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVnJH6aE3f3NmgTYYwKToKCZ7rlxwV12CAhdx9EQV72SiIm9asC443DZFMC9pDO-8TUxRczxdv7hRkhg0igMlz9IXJaOSa6haNROBfUVa63kPCNSWcLjq8I_IR1RsjObiUQqmP7spq5E4/w400-h236/Screen+Shot+2020-12-13+at+6.10.04+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dick Allen batting for the Chicago White Sox. <br />Playing for Chicago in 1972, he won the AL MVP Award.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>One of the most dominant hitters in major league baseball history, Dick Allen, died earlier this week a day after he should have been elected into the Hall of Fame. It's sad and shameful that baseball's Hall of Fame committees didn't manage to vote him in before he died. Although he didn't have that long of a career, Dick Allen was a fearsome offensive force and put up huge numbers during the lowest-scoring years of modern baseball. He also did this while having to withstand the bitter racism and bigotry of 1960s Phillies fans who would pelt him with garbage so often that Allen wore his batting helmet in the field for protection and was even moved off third base into left field to keep him safe from the wrath of his team's home-field fans. </p><p>I became interested in Dick Allen when I was a teenager devouring books about baseball history. He stood out as a fascinating figure, a name I'd never heard of before whose performance ranked him among the best baseball players ever. I wondered why he wasn't a household name like some of his contemporaries. The dude did nothing but mash. He won the Rookie of the Year award in 1964 with one of the best rookie seasons ever, when he led all of baseball in runs scored (125) and triples (13), while topping the National League in Total Bases (352). He kept putting up big numbers for the next decade, eventually winning the AL MVP with the Chicago White Sox in 1972 after he had demanded to be traded out of Philly and bounced around St. Louis and Los Angeles. His career Adjusted OPS+ of 156 ranks him right up there with guys like Willie Mays, Frank Thomas, Hank Aaron, and Joe DiMaggio as the best right-handed hitters ever. From 1964 to 1974 he essentially put up Mike Trout numbers, perennially hitting 30 homers with a .300 batting average and tons of walks---all of this during the worst era for hitters in modern baseball history. In what became known as the Year of the Pitcher in 1968, when the entire league saw scoring sink to Deadball Era levels, Dick Allen crushed 33 homers and put up an .872 OPS (the average OPS in the NL that year was .641---for comparison, the average OPS in the 2020 MLB season was .740). </p><p>As a sensitive black man playing in the 1960s and 70s, nothing was ever made easy for him and sometimes in the midst of conflicts with management he didn't make things easy for himself. Sportswriters almost uniformly turned against him and crafted an image of him as a bad teammate. It would take decades to set the record straight. Former teammates Goose Gossage and Mike Schmidt have been especially vocal in speaking the truth about him. Despite being a popular player with fans, an MVP, a Rookie of the Year, and seven-time All-Star, he was portrayed as a pariah and even Bill James mischaracterized him as a selfish player. All of this contributed to him being left out of the Hall of Fame. Thankfully, the Phillies franchise finally commemorated him this past summer, retiring his number 15. </p><p>To go back and read about why Dick Allen was considered such a controversial player---Bill James once wrote that he did more to keep his teams from winning than any player ever---you would think there must be a distinction in opinion between those who followed his career when he played and those who didn't. The stories of Dick Allen as a malcontent seem no worse than the stories about Manny Ramirez during his career as a controversial player. You would think if the negative affect of their bad behavior was that meaningful it would show up in the stats. How much better could Dick Allen have hit though? He wasn't a good defensive player (like Manny), but just looking at the production at the plate it's hard to see where he could've improved. Manny had more success in the postseason than Dick Allen but the latter would probably have appeared in the playoffs more with the expanded postseason format we've had the last 30 years. And both Manny and Dick Allen did nothing but rake year after year. If not for his steroid suspensions, Manny Ramirez would be a lock for the Hall of Fame. His career was shorter than Manny's, but Dick Allen should be a lock for the Hall of Fame, too.</p><p>Allen broke into the league with one of the greatest rookie seasons in baseball history in 1964 and had his best season in 1972 when he won the AL MVP with a monster season (37 homers, 113 RBI, with his .420 OBP and 1.023 OPS both leading the major leagues). He consistently mashed during a low-scoring era while playing in pitcher-friendly home ballparks, competing against some of the greatest players in the history of the game. From 1964 to 1974 he was the most dominant hitter in major league baseball and look at some of the guys he outranked by Adjusted OPS+ (via Baseball-reference.com):</p><p style="text-align: center;">Dick Allen 165 OPS+</p><p style="text-align: center;">Willie McCovey 161 OPS+</p><p style="text-align: center;">Hank Aaron 159 OPS+</p><p style="text-align: center;">Frank Robinson 159 OPS+</p><p style="text-align: center;">Mickey Mantle 156 OPS+</p><p><br /></p><p>By the way, Manny Ramirez has a similar career OPS+ (154) as Dick Allen (156) but while Ramirez had a longer career he never had a 10-year stretch as dominant as Dick Allen was from 1964 to 1974. </p><p>Sadly, the Hall of Fame has screwed him over just like they did with Cubs legend Ron Santo. The third baseman Santo for years had a strong case to be elected to the Hall but they never actually voted him in until shortly after he died. There's a good chance they will do the same now with Dick Allen (he fell one vote short in 2014). Several famous and beloved retired baseball players have passed away in this horrible year of 2020 (among them Tom Seaver, Lou Brock, Bob Gibson, Joe Morgan, and Jimmy Wynn) but losing Dick Allen when he was on the verge of finally getting elected into the Hall of Fame really stings. Baseball's Hall of Fame has gradually sacrificed any legitimacy or respectability it once had, with the stars of the 90s-00s era locked out because of performance enhancing drugs and guys like Dick Allen and Ron Santo seeing their lives end before they could get elected in. Meanwhile, inarguably far inferior players have been voted in recently, watering down the criteria for election to the Hall and just making the whole thing seem pointless and ridiculous.</p><p>If you'd like to read more about the life and career of Dick Allen, I direct you to some pieces written by authors with a much better understanding of this complicated saga: Steven Goldman <a href="https://www.baseballprospectus.com/news/article/63374/dick-allen-is-not-in-the-hall-of-fame/" target="_blank">at Baseball Prospectus</a> and Jay Jaffe <a href="https://blogs.fangraphs.com/reckoning-with-dick-allen-1942-2020/" target="_blank">at Fangraphs</a> wrote especially insightful pieces about the passing of Dick Allen this week. And <a href="https://blogs.fangraphs.com/is-baseball-ready-to-love-dick-allen/" target="_blank">this piece</a> at Fangraphs by Shakeia Taylor from 2018 "Is Baseball Ready to Love Dick Allen?" was also helpful in learning more about the man Dick Allen was and what he dealt with. Also see Tyler Kepner's <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/12/09/sports/baseball/dick-allen-hall-of-fame.html?action=click&block=more_in_recirc&impression_id=7737d9b0-3da1-11eb-87e2-4d6f7c447117&index=2&pgtype=Article&region=footer" target="_blank">piece in the <i>NY Times</i></a>. </p><p>During his MVP season with the White Sox in 1972 he appeared on this phenomenal <a href="https://www.si.com/mlb/2020/12/12/dick-allen-iconic-cover-john-iacono" target="_blank"><i>Sports Illustrated</i></a> cover:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-FSjsZkxmdz7VkGNnolMQ2vewQBdyReuhXaEVFsy_ADCr2gBVJN_iEYTgyGEN-bQhse-s_TWDXwYr0r4OPQ6DXjVQ_rZWsqUWnzAXftI6bEYBA0BWYcxaQg3RdnZPwDB-7SJtIueu1nA/s695/Screen+Shot+2020-12-13+at+7.24.55+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="695" data-original-width="518" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-FSjsZkxmdz7VkGNnolMQ2vewQBdyReuhXaEVFsy_ADCr2gBVJN_iEYTgyGEN-bQhse-s_TWDXwYr0r4OPQ6DXjVQ_rZWsqUWnzAXftI6bEYBA0BWYcxaQg3RdnZPwDB-7SJtIueu1nA/w299-h400/Screen+Shot+2020-12-13+at+7.24.55+PM.png" width="299" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Earlier this year, Brian Kenny on MLB Network broke down the statistical case for why Dick Allen deserved to be in the Hall of Fame:</p><p><br /></p>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/PLYhiWOLtLU" width="480"></iframe>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-88164321877353580142020-11-27T13:35:00.005-06:002023-11-14T18:52:06.298-06:00New article in the James Joyce Quarterly on Lawrence Ferlinghetti<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAE0qzIRixpGHJofLGnn27PZssSkQgndZew5jegbPy2OHrfQ-hnaz_30W4dS7sqOeRaebB7ZRCwEn-IlVzXUgi-cqVJVpM-Iqqh2voU6yj4OS1fcGMJup7uEhpfAXrynCw_UjiYFbefII/s2016/62691106257__7CEF0FC1-3FB5-4FE2-A31A-AFA61E54AD66.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAE0qzIRixpGHJofLGnn27PZssSkQgndZew5jegbPy2OHrfQ-hnaz_30W4dS7sqOeRaebB7ZRCwEn-IlVzXUgi-cqVJVpM-Iqqh2voU6yj4OS1fcGMJup7uEhpfAXrynCw_UjiYFbefII/w300-h400/62691106257__7CEF0FC1-3FB5-4FE2-A31A-AFA61E54AD66.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front cover of <i>JJQ</i> volume 57.3-4. Cover art by David Nowlan.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>I am excited to have a new piece that was published in the latest edition of the <i><a href="https://jjq.utulsa.edu/issue-57-3-4/" target="_blank">James Joyce Quarterly</a>.</i> This piece is a book review of the newest book from the legendary American poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti, a fascinating and entertaining text called <i>Little Boy: A Novel</i>. The full article is behind a subscription wall, but you can read the first half of it <a href="https://muse.jhu.edu/article/773343" target="_blank">here</a>. </p><p>Here's the opening paragraph: </p><p></p><blockquote>The American poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti turned one hundred years old in 2019. To mark the occasion, he published <i>Little Boy: A Novel</i>, a compulsively readable feast for the mind stuffed into a breezy 192-page text. Though calling itself a novel, it is hardly fiction. The book reads more like a memoir written as an epic poem in a lyrical thought-stream prose style devoid of plot, bereft of punctuation, laced with literary criticism, and seared with socio-political commentary. It is a novel in the truest sense of the word: Ferlinghetti made something new.</blockquote><p></p><p><br /></p><p>If you're wondering why this review of Ferlinghetti's latest book was in the <i>James Joyce Quarterly</i>, it's because <i>Little Boy</i> is a sort of homage to Joyce. You can find Ferlinghetti quoting from <i>Finnegans Wake</i> and <i>Ulysses</i> from his earliest published works like <i>A Coney Island of the Mind</i> (1958)<i>. </i>He continued to bring Joyce into his poetry for decades and <i>Little Boy</i> is a sort of culmination or capstone of Ferlinghetti's career, an epic poem in the form of a stream-of-consciousness in which he quotes and imitates Joyce frequently (among countless other literary allusions). Over at my "Finnegans, Wake!" blog I <a href="https://finwakeatx.blogspot.com/2020/03/joyce-fw-references-in-ferlinghettis.html" target="_blank">shared a post</a> with a bunch of examples of Ferlinghetti alluding to Joyce throughout <i>Little Boy: A Novel.</i></p><p>Besides the prominent Joycean element, the reason I wrote the review is because I absolutely loved <i>Little Boy: A Novel</i>. It has to be one of the best books I've ever read. <i>Little Boy</i> is both moving and laugh-out-loud funny, the language is incredibly rich and engrossing with sentences that go on for pages and build up momentum, mixing lyricism and mysticism with memoir, literary criticism with social commentary, the author's earliest memories and experiences with his observations on modern society while sitting inside a cafe in San Francisco. There are reflections on several famous literary figures Ferlinghetti was friends with like Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs, Neal Cassady, Gregory Corso, etc. Ferlinghetti has had a very rich century of existence---he <a href="https://datebook.sfchronicle.com/art-exhibits/ferlinghetti-photos-of-normandy-landing-on-d-day-surface-at-harvey-milk-photo-center" target="_blank">commanded</a> a sub chaser in the invasion of Normandy on D-Day in 1944, he went to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qw5Rm2meA9U" target="_blank">Nagasaki</a> in 1945 after the atomic bomb dropped and was so horrified he <a href="https://takingnote.blogs.nytimes.com/2015/08/10/ferlinghetti-on-nagasaki/" target="_blank">became</a> a staunch pacifist and activist for the rest of his life. In 1953 he founded City Lights bookstore in San Francisco and went on to publish Ginsberg's <i>Howl and Other Poems</i> which led to him going to jail for obscenity <a href="https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/u-s-customs-seizes-howl" target="_blank">charges</a>. He's published dozens of books of poetry, novels, and plays and is also a talented painter.</p><p>In January I randomly picked up <i>A Coney Island of the Mind</i> from my bookshelf and started reading it. I had discovered the book back in 2018 on a trip to the Bay Area where the title had caught my eye as I perused the bookshelf of a friend I was visiting. Didn't know anything about it at the time, but having grown up in NYC and played hockey at Abe Stark Arena in Coney Island for many years, the title of that dog-eared slim volume intrigued me. So when I later visited City Lights bookstore on the same trip, I picked up a brand new copy of <i>A Coney Island of the Mind</i>. At the time I didn't know was Ferlinghetti's most famous book and that I was standing in Ferlinghetti's own bookstore purchasing it. Once I finally started reading it earlier this year, I got hooked immediately. </p><p>For the next few months I read and re-read several books by Ferlinghetti, my favorite being the second volume of his epic poem on the history of America called <i>Time of Useful Consciousness </i>(published in 2012, the title is derived from an aeronautical term denoting the time between when one loses oxygen and when one passes out, the brief time in which some life-saving action is possible). Then I picked up his newest book, <i>Little Boy: A Novel </i>(2019), and it just blew me away. While I haven't read every single one of Ferlinghetti's books yet, I have read most of them now and I can say with some certainty that <i>Little Boy</i> is his greatest work. A perfect distillation of all the knowledge and experience he's acquired over a century of existence neatly packed into a relatively short book. The structure is economical because there are no chapter breaks and after the first 15 pages or so there are even very few sentence breaks. The text becomes a rushing river of poetic prose. The language is full of informal dialects, street talk, puns, and idioms. Ferlinghetti is a (now) 101-year-old poet who has owned a bookstore for more than six decades so his knowledge of literature is virtually unsurpassed among those walking the earth. He's also an old New Yorker with a great sense of humor. This creates an irresistibly rich and entertaining gestalt that never seems to leave anything out. </p><p>I enjoyed it so much that when I finished reading <i>Little Boy: A Novel,</i> I immediately turned back to the first page and started reading it again. Then I finished it a second time and immediately read it again a third time. Reading books has been my main hobby for a while now and I can't recall having that kind of experience where I read one book cover-to-cover three times in a row. </p><p>Trying to summarize why I love this book so much, I come up this: as a NY native, I relate to Ferlinghetti with all his memories of Yonkers where he was born (and where I played many hockey games at an outdoor rink where I once scored a hat trick); I relate to Ferlinghetti's obsession with Joyce, especially <i>Finnegans Wake</i>; the informal, playful language he uses makes him a joy to read; there's so much to learn from his literary allusions and stories; he also loves baseball and refers to it frequently in this book; Ferlinghetti views the world thru the eye of a mystic; with all of his experience, knowledge, and wisdom, he is exactly the person whose perspective I am hoping to learn from as he comments, in longwinded jeremiads, on our current political and environmental predicaments. </p><p>The review I wrote for <i>JJQ</i> was restricted by a word count so I had to keep it short and here I am going on about this book and I've barely touched on its most moving element as a memoir. Besides all the cultural-political-social commentary and piles of literary allusions, the core of <i>Little Boy</i> is about the little boy Lawrence Ferlinghetti who had a difficult upbringing which impacted him the rest of his life. His father died shortly before he was born. His mother couldn't handle another child and ended up in a mental hospital so she gave the baby to her sister. Ferlinghetti was raised by his Aunt Emilie and learned to speak French. For a while they lived with a wealthy family who his aunt was working for until suddenly she just left with no explanation, never to be seen again, and young Lawrence grew up without any real family around. As the book carries on we get more insight into the imprint of his childhood in which he never received real love or affection.</p><p>There are so many passages in this book that I've starred, underlined, and annotated and I'm tempted to quote from it at length. As I describe in the <i>JJQ</i> review, the style of this book is totally unconventional. Sentences span several pages with no punctuation and he jumps from one thing to the next and back again. I will share a long section here from pgs 93-96 where you can get an idea of how this book works. Note: A big block of unbroken text ensues<i>.</i> Not always easy to follow, but always richly rewarding to read. This selection begins immediately after Ferlinghetti quotes from an unusually profound Levi's advertisement he saw in San Francisco one recent summer: </p><p><br /></p><p><b></b></p><blockquote><b>And who was that speaking if not Whitman or every common man on earth or elsewhere who else if not an American certainly not a European with all his baggage of centuries like Pasolini said when he came to New York in the 1960s and met the New Left rads and wrote that he envied these Americans who could act without first having to wade through thirty centuries of intellectual baggage like what would Heidegger do or what would Descartes do or what would Plato say or Plutarch or Herodotus or Gramsci or some other great looming intellect haunting their old Euro heads yeah you can imagine what with the European Communist parties tied up in knots and eventually destroying the student revolution or revelation of 1968 And what Tarquin said in his garden with the poppy blooms was understood by the son but not by the messenger and so today the messenger embodied now as the media spreads confusion and doubt as to any eternal verity as indeed so do the philosophers or other heavy-headed thinkers who spread doubt in every direction even as Socrates did So that so that today there is a veritable clearance sale of ideas strained through the semiliterate media which ends up giving us a kind of Gazpacho Expressionism or cut-up consciousness as in William Burroughs' <i>Naked Lunch</i> or in John Cage's cut-up of any classic text as he did <i>Finnegans Wake</i> annihilating the beautiful hushed talk of Irish washerwomen gossiping in the gloaming while doing their washing on a riverbank where field mice squawk and dusk falling and night descending into doubt and despair and fear and trembling O lord save us Blind in our courses we know not what we do or where we go O the semiconscious existential despair of not knowing who we are and the boy all his life looking for himself and where he came from Father lost Mother in a madhouse and he the little kid wandering around knowing nothing having been told nothing of where he came from and who was to tell him the little kid plunked down on earth somewhere alone like a stray cat or pup without a collar or name tag and how was he to find himself in this twirling world spinning to the music of the spheres which is the sound of Om in which all sound is absorbed in which all thought all feelings all senses are absorbed yes and Om the sound of living itself the great Om of all our breathing the voice of life the voice of our buried life the voice of the voice of the blood then coursing through us through even the penis that strange appendage a peninsula of sorts a third arm or leg that so imperiously asserts its authority and inopportunely rises up and inserts itself into affairs personal or worldly and then so arrogantly lets us down at critical moments at the very gates of paradise or Nirvana or hell and refuses all our incitements "of mind and hand" as some Frenchie philosophe said even as he let down his pants in the queen's chamber indeed indeed and we are left with the perpetual astonishment of man on earth when confronted with himself or his penis indeed what a piece of work is man and this his daybook his nightbook and I am not writing some kind of <i>Notes from the Underground</i> as if I had any idea where any underground is these days if I ever knew since I've always been off in my own burb in some suburb of consciousness dreaming away or otherwise goofing off or picking my nose in hopeless cellars with fellow travelers or their ilk imagining I'm going to change the world or something and so I'm just some kind of literary freak and my mind the constipated thought of the race all too shallow to be called nihilism while all the while all I want to do is walk around the earth cooking the Joy soup What else is there to do with the rest of eternity and would you tell me what it is we're all supposed to do on earth anyway I mean truly just sit right down and think of an answer to all that while there's still time just give me a concrete answer as to what humans are supposed to do with all our time what on earth that is are we just to sit around like blobs of perspiring protoplasm or like chimps in trees scratching our fleas or whatever I mean maybe in fact it's just dreaming that we're supposed to do after everyone is fed after all is said and done oh no that's just a big evasion of the basic burning question What I want to know is what in hell are we here on earth for anyway baby baby Am I your bedroom philosopher or Doctor of Alienation Am I a willing well-fed participant and protagonist in our consumer society a consumer-gatherer or a rebel antagonist revolutionary an enemy of the state or something in between neither fish nor fouling-piece Tell me tell me the night is young and you're so beautiful pardon me if I am overdutiful Babeee and that's what he was asking himself as he grew up into something new and strange at least in the eyes of some totally objective journalist sent down here to earth by some managing editor with a low tolerance for malarkey who wants the truth and nothing but the truth so let 'em have it tell us what is what and who we are and what we are doing down here anyway The top-dog editor wants to know the straight story and are you man enough to tell it or are you brain enough to tell it and are you man enough to say I love you man (<i>Little Boy: A Novel</i>, pgs 93-96)</b></blockquote><p></p>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-9953574394526868932020-09-14T23:28:00.005-05:002020-12-11T11:47:35.810-06:00New article: "The Interstellar Corridors of Killah Priest's Rocket to Nebula"<p>My new album review was just published at Hip Hop Golden Age, the piece is called "The Interstellar Corridors of Killah Priest's <i>Rocket to Nebula</i>." Check it out <a href="https://hiphopgoldenage.com/killah-priest-rocket-to-nebula-review/" target="_blank">HERE</a>.</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://hiphopgoldenage.com/killah-priest-rocket-to-nebula-review/" target="_blank">The Interstellar Corridors of Killah Priest's <i>Rocket to Nebula</i></a></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqEwM0NzsGonvdoM25kDeNB6cOEXTjhfPXe3HIudmY5E4edTvakw9_SHUQ9sOn1yXSZXv0zKpNjXdVhwJ9PZK0CTPXPYVdLxQFyjYRZ2ApOvnzcAt-t5YZM0_5Y0zQ6ybqgJ1ieb0fs4/s512/Screen+Shot+2020-09-14+at+10.00.02+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="512" height="399" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqEwM0NzsGonvdoM25kDeNB6cOEXTjhfPXe3HIudmY5E4edTvakw9_SHUQ9sOn1yXSZXv0zKpNjXdVhwJ9PZK0CTPXPYVdLxQFyjYRZ2ApOvnzcAt-t5YZM0_5Y0zQ6ybqgJ1ieb0fs4/w400-h399/Screen+Shot+2020-09-14+at+10.00.02+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">"<i>Welcome to the Nebula, where the impossible is regular</i>"</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Killah Priest has been among my favorite artists for over 20 years now and, as I talk about at length in the review, he deserves accolades for continuing to grow and improve as an artist. Priest is most well known for his classic features on Wu-Tang Clan tracks, his affiliated Killa Beez group Sunz of Man, and his solo debut album from 1998, <i>Heavy Mental</i>. But, as I've <a href="https://www.abuildingroam.com/2013/06/five-new-hip-hop-albums-reviewed.html" target="_blank">written</a> about on <a href="https://www.abuildingroam.com/2017/02/street-lamps-hip-hop-in-dark-ages.html" target="_blank">this</a> blog before, Priest advanced his visual rhyming style and deepened his already encyclopedic content on albums like <i>The Psychic World of Walter Reed</i> (2013) and <i>Planet of the Gods</i> (2015) and has been dropping tons of new material the past several years. His second new album that dropped in 2020 is <i>Rocket to Nebula</i>, an hour-long spoken-word poetry cosmic trip, unlike any other rap album you'll hear. It's a cosmic journey to the farthest reaches of inner space, from the mind of a brilliant emcee who dwells often on metaphysics and mysticism. </p><p style="text-align: left;">While <i>Rocket to Nebula</i> is loaded with esoteric subjects, celestial imagery, and occult magic and mysticism, it also continually returns to everyday reality of human life on earth. The poetic descriptions of some of the simple pleasures in life hit the listener differently during a time of pandemic and quarantine. And the cosmic journeys to imaginative utopias described in visual lyricism are stimulating for the mind. As I mention in the article, "Priest has occupied the role of shaman of the Wu tribe for many years now, but it’s good and well-timed to hear him fully embrace it for a full album." </p><p style="text-align: left;">Here is the track "Digital Ghost" from <i>Rocket to Nebula</i>:
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9TUUQqx-KG4" width="480"></iframe></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">And here is a new track from Priest from an upcoming album, I'm really digging this one, it's called "Manuka Honey":</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DP5aeIQ7G-w" width="480"></iframe>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-68079658942528321822020-08-23T23:57:00.003-05:002020-09-19T11:11:24.323-05:00Mixtape in Memoriam of Kobe<div>From its humble inception 11 years ago this blog <a href="https://www.abuildingroam.com/2009/11/introduction.html" target="_blank">began </a>with me showing love for the beauty of Kobe Bryant's jump shot, so now since today would have been Kobe's 42nd birthday I'd like to share some thoughts on the late Lakers legend, plus post a mixtape of choice clips of the Black Mamba. </div><div><br /></div><div>While I was never a Lakers fan and was usually rooting against Kobe as a Knicks fan (or as a fan of Allen Iverson or Tracy McGrady or Vince Carter as they went up against Kobe), he was such an amazingly talented, flashy, dynamic, high-flying and insanely competitive player it was impossible not to be entertained by his game even as he was kicking your team's ass. Dude was an absolute legend. During the latter half of his career I spent some time living in Southern California and got to watch a lot of Lakers games on local cable. In those days I also had a friend who was a huge Lakers fan and we'd argue about Kobe's place among the all-time greats. </div><div><br /></div><div>Prior to his tragic death early this year, the most recent memories I had of Kobe, the events that stuck in my head as I-remember-where-I-was-when-that-happened kinda moments, were how bad I felt for him the night he tore his Achilles and how happy I was for him watching his unforgettable final NBA game when he dropped 60 in a win against Utah. And I remember seeing <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PuczDyTA4DE" target="_blank">that video</a> of Kobe and Gianna, the father teaching his attentive daughter as they sat courtside at a Brooklyn Nets game, a month before the accident that took their lives. </div><div><br /></div><div>Looking back on it, the horrible death of Kobe Bryant and his daughter Gianna in a helicopter crash on January 26th stands out as a harbinger of the unthinkably dark and depressing months to come. Strangely, that period of grieving and binge-watching Kobe videos, watching the memorial they held at Staples Center, that was actually the final period of normalcy we had before the world we knew suddenly collapsed. I remember I was at work, on a lunch break when I caught Michael Jordan's eulogy for Kobe at his memorial. (My office would soon be closed indefinitely.) The Staples Center that day was filled with the gods of basketball lore all gathered together in the arena Kobe called home, all mourning a fallen star. Everybody packed together in Los Angeles and just one month later all public gatherings would be banned, NBA's season indefinitely shut down, America's confrontation with the coronavirus escalating. </div>
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I remember that Sunday afternoon hearing the news about Kobe and Gianna and it was a gut punch. That shit hurt for a while. I was shocked how hard it hit me. Just seeing headlines with the words The Death of Kobe Bryant just looked surreal, bizarre, fake or unthinkable like The Death of Superman. I kept talking to friends about it, trying to process it with anyone who understood the impact of the death of Kobe, and at night I'd get lost in watching every YouTube video of Kobe I could find, reliving his greatest highlights and reliving my history as a basketball fan, commiserating with every commentator on the loss of Kobe from late night talk show hosts and retired NBA greats to Randy Moss and Jason Alexander and anybody who felt or understood the impact of the death of Kobe. The shock was well captured by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E1IX-MF82SI" target="_blank">Jon Batiste talking to Stephen Colbert</a>, describing that viscerally painful realization that "even the mighty among us, those who seem like they'll live forever, the immortal ones could be gone (snap) just like that."<div><br /></div><div>After the death of Kobe I felt like something inside me broke. To heal it I had to binge watch Kobe videos. I was trying to keep my memories of Kobe alive, everything I had ever loved and been inspired by about Kobe, I was trying to bring it all back to life. Having had a while to think about it now, what made me love Kobe so much, besides the entertainment value of his game was his drive, his inspiration, his internal push to achieve greatness. He was born with gifts, the son of pro basketball player Joe "Jellybean" Bryant whose hoop genes he surely inherited, but Kobe was never complacent, he famously had an ethic to work as hard as he possibly could to get the most out of his gifts. He was notoriously an asshole in his competitive excesses but he was driven to be the absolute best to ever play the game of basketball, determined to outdo his idol Michael Jordan. There was a great scene in the ESPN Jordan documentary where you hear Jordan in the locker room before an All-Star game talking about the "little Laker boy" whose cockiness would get the best of him. Kobe/Jordan battles evolved sharply over the years until the torch was officially passed to the Black Mamba who reached his scoring peaks around when Jordan finished his twilight years with the Wizards. Seeing Jordan pour his heart out in mourning his little brother at the Kobe memorial, it felt extra heart-wrenching that young Kobe was being laid to rest while the older Jordan was delivering his eulogy. The whole thing brought to the forefront for me the unyielding passage of time, the inescapableness of death, and the cold reality of our loneliness as human beings who are, despite all of our impacts and connections, born alone and who die alone. </div><div><br /></div><div>At the same time, in the aftermath of the death of Kobe I felt the reality of the idea espoused in the works of James Joyce which essentially amounts to: in death, absence can become the greatest form of presence. I thought about Kobe more in the wake of his passing that I had in many years. Kobe was on my mind constantly for weeks. I know that was the case for a lot of people. Jordan captured that in his eulogy, describing how we all feel like some part of us died when Kobe died. I'm still thinking about and feeling some feelings about Kobe Bryant today on his 42nd birthday. </div><div><br /></div><div>And so in honoring his memory, here is a mixtape of some of my favorite videos that capture what made Kobe Bryant such an iconic and inspiring figure.<span><a name='more'></a></span></div><div>
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ESPN tribute</b><br />
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Mamba Out</b><br />
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The Audacity of Kobe Bryant (The Ringer)</b><br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0HZ_Ho29bRQ" width="480"></iframe> </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><b>1998 All-Star Game vs Jordan</b><br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/v6HbOIISYao" width="480"></iframe> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b> Kobe best plays vs every superstar</b><br />
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<b>T-Mac on Kobe</b><br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/BC_P_78rMZU" width="480"></iframe><br />
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</b></div><div><b>T-Mac on Kobe part 2</b><br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/MZGG4CPuLms" width="480"></iframe> </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Pau Gasol on his brother Kobe</b><br />
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Kobe vs LeBron 2009</b><br />
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<b>Jack Nicholson pays tribute to Kobe</b><br />
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<b>Jimmy Kimmel remembers Kobe</b><br />
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<b>MJ eulogy for Kobe</b><br />
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<b>Kobe 81 pts</b><br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/FeXZY4eVLlo" width="480"></iframe></div>PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-81712083635285717572020-08-01T23:15:00.000-05:002020-08-01T23:12:36.035-05:00"Created Equal" (1984) by Jean-Michel Basquiat <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>"Created Equal" (1984) by Jean-Michel Basquiat </b></div>
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PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-54251079223834365562020-08-01T23:11:00.001-05:002020-08-01T23:11:34.943-05:00Article at "Hip Hop Golden Age"Last month I had an article posted at the Hip Hop Golden Age website <a href="https://hiphopgoldenage.com/who-got-the-camera-by-kevlaar-7-bronze-nazareth-a-lyrical-breakdown/" target="_blank">"Who Got the Camera? by Kevlaar 7 & Bronze Nazareth: A Lyrical Breakdown"</a> which takes a close look at two verses from the title track of the late Kevlaar 7's album <i>Who Got the Camera?</i> from 2011. As I have <a href="https://www.abuildingroam.com/2011/10/album-review-who-got-camera-by-kevlaar.html" target="_blank">written</a> about a <a href="https://www.slantmagazine.com/music/kevlaar-7-who-got-the-camera/" target="_blank">few</a> times <a href="https://www.abuildingroam.com/2013/01/re-plant-this-in-our-handbooks-modern.html" target="_blank">before</a>, that album was loaded with messages exposing social injustices and it came forth as an outcry against police brutality and racial violence. As Ari Melber <a href="https://www.msnbc.com/the-beat-with-ari/watch/-strange-fruit-how-black-artists-defied-u-s-racism-got-it-right-and-paid-the-price-87001669806" target="_blank">talked about</a> in a recent segment that aligns in some ways with my piece, this is a topic that rappers have made music about for years and since they were exposing what is now a widely accepted truth some of them deserve Pulitzers. Kevlaar 7 passed away on December 23, 2014. The reality of present day racism and its historical roots was always a major theme in his music. He explicitly came to warn us all but he knew he was also ahead of his time, as he put it on the opening track to the Wisemen album <i>Children of a Lesser God</i>, "It's too early, truth is dirty."<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Kevlaar 7 (RIP)</td></tr>
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Just like his brother Bronze Nazareth, Kevlaar was a brilliant lyricist (and a great producer too) and these two came together on this song to deliver a poetic exposé documenting the ongoing atrocities of racial violence in America. Now that these issues are front and center in American life in 2020, so many of us have been compelled to try to learn more about these issues, seek out knowledge and read more history. American history is so often presented in a way that tries to conceal the bad stuff, but we need to face it if we will ever be able to overcome its painfulness. Bronze and Kevlaar wrote about this history and its present manifestations in their verses often, although rarely as concentrated and focused as on this track. This article I shared is actually an excerpt from a book I've been working on for several years where I try to unpack, interpret, and expand on many verses from Bronze. That book also includes another song he did with Kevlaar devoted to bringing this same topic to light. We are living through a sudden awakening now and it is helpful as ever to glean historical facts and information from the poetics of tuned-in rappers writing about Black America for those of us who want to see what's been going on and try to envision a better future. PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-59461131771762941262020-07-26T23:33:00.005-05:002020-07-26T23:33:55.477-05:00"Pandora" (1898) by John William Waterhouse<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Pandora (1898) by John William Waterhouse</b></div>
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PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-46592817701837787802020-07-26T23:20:00.000-05:002020-07-26T23:20:19.596-05:00"Mouth of a River" by Preservation ft Michelle Siu<div style="text-align: center;">
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PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1157342843002612388.post-35654275169963850132020-06-06T11:38:00.000-05:002020-07-25T19:08:52.353-05:00(Video) Anti-Racism: Listen to Jane Elliott and Share This<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jane_Elliott" target="_blank">Jane Elliott</a> is an educator and anti-racism activist who has been working for more than 50 years to educate the public about the reality of racism in the United States of America and how to overcome indoctrinated racist beliefs. As her videos have been circulating around the internet a lot recently, I've been watching and learning a great deal from her. She is a captivating speaker, a passionate and fierce human being, a provocative and extremely knowledgable teacher who will crack your head open, show you what was implanted there by indoctrination, and help you to see things clearly for what they are rather than how they appear to be.<br />
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Of all the videos I have watched so far, the one I am sharing below struck me as the best because the interviewer gives her the space to speak her lessons longwindedly and she absolutely goes off. She goes off on the inherited bullshit American society indoctrinates its children with, she goes off on Trump, she describes what she witnessed as a small child seeing Hitler rise to power and World War II explode while comparing that to today, and she provides a litany of lessons for the viewer to learn from. She recommends a bunch of insightful books and even, towards the end, admonishes us about the power of television and what it does to our minds, recommending we all seek out the work of Marshall McLuhan to learn about how the medium of television can damage your perspective and sensory perception.<br />
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PLEASE WATCH THIS AND SHARE WIDELY. If you have friends or family members who express racist views or who don't understand the gravity of our moment in history, make them watch this. This woman Jane Elliott has that type of energy that will sit you down, make you shut the fuck up and LISTEN to the authority of her knowledge. She loves to bring up the etymology of the word Educator which literally means <i>one who leads others out of ignorance</i>. Listen and let her guide you.<br />
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PQhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14491626995530401441noreply@blogger.com0