Archive for November 2011

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Zuccotti Park – Morning After Clearing – 11/15/11

November 15, 2011

Whew. Just walked by Zuccotti Park. And I take back a lot of this morning’s post. I don’t know what Bloomberg should have done–tents were probably not a great idea. I can understand the concern that in an age of “see something, say something,” a bunch of tents in a public square can pose genuine security threats.

But what’s happening this morning is very scary. The police presence is overwhelming. I’m talking hundreds of cops in riot gear, vans and vans. (My pictures really can’t convey the feeling of the park.)

The protesters left are gamely trying to march up Liberty Street, very hemmed in, chanting. (One girl with a prosthesis, older people, all kinds of people.)

They are surrounded in addition to the police by so many people with cameras, press, passers-by. Brokers have come out to watch. Tourists don’t quite know what they are doing in the middle of it. STreet is shaking with the chant of protesters and also, well, a sense of fear. Maybe Bloomberg’s idea is to avoid confrontation through a crushing police presence, I don’t know, but it is awful to see. I’m still shaking inside.

To be fair, my only personal confrontation with a policeman was his telling me to watch out for the red light stop sign–i.e. get out of the middle of Broadway till the light changed.

And the police, in general, seem disciplined, undaunted by picture taking. No one is trying to stop anyone from doing that, as you can see below.

The thing is that there are just so many of them. It’s hard to convey the scene in iPhone pictures, but here are some.

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Categories: New York City, news, Uncategorized
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Clearing Zuccotti Park – Tents Down

November 15, 2011

I find it very hard to assess my feelings about police clearing out Zuccotti Park, a place I walk by twice a day.

I have to say that the movement seemed to have changed lately.  Yes, there were some very serious people–the union guy with the hard hat–and the knitters–but it also seemed to have gotten seedier, with lots and lots of flat-out panhandlers.  One guy in particular was a bit creepy–he used a kitten as a prop in collecting “donations.”   (The way he clutched it, one hand out, honestly made me feel a little sick.)   (Although not nearly as sick as another guy this weekend hustling tourists a few blocks away at Ground Zero–he was dressed like a bronzed statue of a 9/11 fire fighter.)

The raggedness of the park was oddly much exacerbated by the change from daylight savings time.  Very early in the evening, the area, though incredibly crowded, became also incredibly dark, a kind of crowded darkness you rarely come by in the City.

That said, I was never afraid walking through it or around it (though I was annoyed by the drumming.)  But hey, I’m a New Yorker.  This means I rarely feel truly threatened by people.   (It’s bombs and airplanes I’m worried about.)

So, did Kelly and Bloomberg do the right thing?  I just don’t know.  On the one hand, it seems harsh.  On the other, well, I know a lot of residents who were totally fed up, especially people with children.

Were there fire and safety concerns?  Undoubtedly.

Were their concerns about serious crime?  Well, sure, but the place was surrounded by police.  (That said, all those fortified tents in the dark are surely things that make policemen nervous, regardless of first amendment rights.)

Was it a cost for the City?  Well, sure–see paragraph above.

Bloomberg says protests can go on, but without tents.  It will be interesting to see.

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Tired on Monday Commute (With Elephant)

November 14, 2011

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Sorry, photo got cut off. It’s always a bit complicated taking pictures on the subway, especially of small elephants.

Have a good day!

Categories: elephants, iPad art
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Comments: 2 Comments

What Carries A Broom and Is Occupying NYC This Weekend?

November 13, 2011

Riddle

We have heard a lot about the tents of young people down at Occupy Wall Street in Zuccotti Park.  We’ve heard about concerns over sanitation, cold, potential violence.   Some have commented on the weird costumes worn by the protesters, and the sometimes silliness of their conduct–costumes and conduct that may make it difficult to take them seriously.

But this weekend, New York is hosting, in a different park, another congregation of tents, youth, well-contained violence, and silliness:  the 2011 Quidditch World Cup!  Held at Randall’s Island, in a huge green field (and also at Icahn Stadium), filled with pitches, tents, and players running around with brooms between their legs.  (Talk about sanitation!)

Quidditch has been adapted, to the extent possible when not airborne, from J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books, and Harry’s world is in full evidence at the World Cup–refreshments include butter beer and golden snitchwiches.  Participants have clever jerseys, often with mystical or nonsensical symbols, and, of course, there are those brooms.  The game, however, while it is very silly, is also very serious.   For one thing, it is amazingly physical–fast-paced and inherently violent (in terms of force needed to win, although hostility seemed to be kept well in check.)

The game combines dodge ball (the bludgers), basketball ball  (the quaffle going through a silver hoop),  field hocky (well–the broom is usually kept between the players’ legs), football (a lot of strong-arming) and hand to hand combat (getting the snitch).  Players must be strong, fast, fearless, and also, it seems, have very good senses of humor.

It was a bit dark for my iPhone to get great photos (I went for the night games, below a full moon), but here are a few.

Categories: New York City, news
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Magpie Tales (91) – Villanelle to Wandering Mind

November 13, 2011

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I am posting this in response to the prompt of Tess Kincaid at Magpie Tales.  Tess posts an interesting photo each week.  Because I like to use my own art work (except the current header landscape by Jason Martin), I’ve redone the photo (more or less).

In this case, due to the chaotic conditions of this particular November day, I’m cheating a bit, in that my poem below does not completely fit with the photo, and is also a poem  that I have posted before.  (But what’s cheating in love and poetry? Ummm… not a great thing.  Sorry.)

Still, it is an interesting poem, and although I think it belongs to the image of an older female–i.e. one about my own age–it does describe a certain twilit mental crossroads (one without clear signposts, and perhaps, several empty chairs.)

Villanelle to Wandering Brain

Sometimes my mind feels like it’s lost its way
and must make do with words that are in reach
as pink as dusk (not dawn), the half-light of the day,

when what it craves is crimson, noon in May,
the unscathed verb or complex forms of speech.
But sometimes my mind feels like it’s lost its way

and calls the egg a lightbulb, plan a tray,
and no matter how it search or how beseech
is pink as dusk (not dawn), the half-light of the day.

I try to make a joke of my decay
or say that busy-ness acts as the leech
that makes my mind feel like it’s lost its way,

but whole years seem as spent as last month’s pay,
plundered in unmet dares to eat a peach—
as pink as dusk (not dawn), the half-light of the day.

There is so much I think I still should say,
so press poor words like linens to heart’s breach,
but find my mind has somehow lost its way
as pink as dusk (not dawn), the half-light of the day.

Categories: poetry, Uncategorized, villanelle
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Comments: 23 Comments

“Idiomatic” Poem (“Bits and Pieces”)

November 12, 2011

DVerse Poets Pub, a great community for struggling and less struggling (i.e. successful) poets, has a poetics challenge today requesting poems written with idiomatic language.  The idioms I use are not so colorful as let’s say, letting the cat out of the bag, but here’s the poem:

Bits and Pieces

Bits and pieces make a whole;
we use them to fill up a hole
shaped like a merely mortal soul.
Bits and pieces take their toll.

Bits and pieces don’t seem real,
and yet they occupy that reel
of all we say and do and feel
beneath the ever-thickening peel.

Bits and pieces are what we’ve got–
all that’s left and not forgot
(after all that time we shot).
Were they all we ever sought?

That can’t be true, we wanted more.
Surely, they’re what we settled for
and now somehow must find enough,
forget the diamonds, love the rough.

Categories: poetry
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Comments: 16 Comments

Two Weeks of Black Eye

November 12, 2011
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Not really how it looks (and I made it small to be less gross!)

Today I finish my second week with a black eye.  (It resulted from my pointed indifference to Sir Isaac Newton.)

A black eye, if the eye itself is not injured, does not change how you physically look at the world, but it definitely changes the way the world looks at you.

Women, after a few thoughtful glances, give you their seats in the subway.

Men (sorry!) look at you quizzically.  They are sure something is wrong, but can’t seem to figure out exactly what it is.  (They can’t quite see around your eyeglass lens.)

Children stare at you with an intensity that (one would think) was reserved for burn victims.   Your sympathy for those with serious visible infirmities increases immeasurably under such stares.  Winking at the children does no good.

Your face in the mirror freaks you out.  Even more than usual.  It’s not just that you’re way older than expected, your eye also reminds you of a dog’s, i.e. spotted.

Friends from poor and rural cultures tell you, with sincere relief, how lucky you are that the eye itself was undamaged.  You feel suddenly silly to worry about whether the marks will go completely away.

In fact, after the purple deepens, it fades.

Categories: Uncategorized, Vicissitudes of Life
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Veteran’s Day – Flash 55 (“Enlisted”)

November 11, 2011

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Thinking of Veteran’s Day today.  This is also a post for Friday Flash 55.  (Tell it to the G-Man.)

Enlisted

What they carry–
the risk of not coming back,
or coming back different;

of being killed,
maimed;
killing, maiming;
coming back
different;

love/hate.
not-necessarily-hate/gun/mission,
training/sweetness/
us.

Somebody’s got to do it.

The risk of coming back
some body.

Know somebody now
joined up.
May he stay
joined,
up,
himself.

PS – I’ve slightly edited the poem since first posting this morning.  (Almost all the poems I post are drafts, so changes are needed.)  Kept to the 55 words though!

 

PPS – I wanted to fit a little more love into the poem, but have been a bit constrained by the 55 word limit.  I do want to take this opportunity to send love, thanks and blessings to all veterans on this day and every day.

 

Categories: iPad art, poetry, Uncategorized
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Prose to Poem (Plagiarism too?) (“Time Times Time”)

November 10, 2011

Solar Powered Timekeeper?

The wonderful dVerse Poets Pub, hosted today by Zsa of the zumpoets site, presents a very interesting challenge for participating poets–the conversion of prose to poetry.  The idea is to make the prose, someone else’s (and hopefully not under copyright) into, more or less, your own poem (or an amalgam of youand the prose writer.)

I copped mine from good old Charles Dickens.

 

Time Times Time

It was the best and worst–it
was time.  It was
time times time–it
was age.   Of
wisdom/foolishness
epic; belief (aching incredulity);
Light seasoned by
Darkness; where hope
winters, despair
springs, and everything before us
feels
like nothing; a time 
we go direct
to Heaven
only
if there’s no
other way.

Here’s the true text, from the opening of A Tale of Two Cities:

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – “

Categories: poetry, Uncategorized
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Why Revising A Manuscript During Nanowrimo Month Is Just Not The Same–Where are the Pheromones?

November 9, 2011

You Have To Be Really Dogged About Revising

We’re almost all familiar with the pleasures of “new car smell” (even if just in a rental.)

Even more attractive is the zing of a new relationship.

For some of nerdy types, even more compelling is the engagement of new creation.  I don’t mean procreation here (although that might fit in too.)  I’m talking about a new idea, a new piece of writing or work of art.

How uncritical we are in the face of freshness!   Sure, we can see kinks, but they feel trivial in the flow of inspiration–detritus in the stream, texture!

Now that I think about it, working on a new piece is remarkably like a new relationship.  In the charge of fresh pheromones, we feel somehow certain that we’ll fix any problems, the person too.  Later.  (Note to self–fat chance.)

Rewriting, in contrast, tends to bog down.  The flaws are about all we are conscious of; the flow feels like a house on stilts rather than any kind of river.

Sometimes we want to change the whole thing, start almost from scratch.  This may be the best approach, but it’s also important to stop and take a breath.  Are we really just trying to do something new, different?  Something whose flaws we don’t have to deal with just yet?

Ugh.

(P.S. – for those who don’t follow this blog, I promised myself to take this Nanowrimo–National Novel Writing Month–to work on revising old manuscripts rather than writing something new.  Ahem.)

Categories: Nanowrimo, writer's block
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