What started as just a silly film about quirky girl meets neurotic uptight dude, turned into a refreshing approach to relationships. These two decide within six hours to get married, and end up married, divorced, and married again.  After realizing that marriage is not a fail safe, be-all-end-all. Perhaps they want to be together, but unmarried. They divorce again.

Ira and Abby realize that perhaps couples aren’t meant to be together forever.  And that isn’t a bad thing.  Just realistic.

Ira: Maybe marriage is just a fad, with an unusally long lifespan….
Abby: Like bottled water
Ira: or man-sandals…

It seems anytime I’ve considered marriage, it’s always because “everyone’s doing it,”  ”it’s the next step.”  But what about keeping that option open that perhaps you don’t want to be bound to someone forever, or pulling off the legal red tape to unstick yourselves from one another?

And perhaps for those of us who do want it ,deciding to marry within the first few hours of knowing on another, might make the most sense.  Why not get hitched while you still have that heady-oh-my-god-I-can’t-get-enough-of-you feeling instead of waiting around and doing it as “the next stage of life” ? Go into it while the adrenaline, endorphins and dopamine are charging through your brain!

Ira and Abby seemed to have it figured out.  Enjoy the rush of marriage, with the rush of first finding out you are in love, then as it becomes comfortable, divorce and live contentedly while still acknowledging the happiness together, may not last forever.

There are many reasons, of course, but when I asked her to explain

“chronotopes” to me:

“Always happy to oblige…the chronotope, according to its coiner–Bakhtin– is the literary expression of the ratio between the real biographical time of an event and its representation in fiction. If something is very brief in the real world, but takes up a lot of time in fiction, then it’s probably very important and rises to the status of a “chronotope.” One of my students used The Real World as a way of explaining it. The producers film and film and film, but the only things that are really interesting are people going in and out of doors, partying, and puking. I doubt Bakhtin would have liked the chronotope of the hot-tub, but it appears to have descriptive validity when talking about MTV.”

Bakhtin

Listening to music is something I do all the time. The last week and half, I had little time for listening to music.  Once I finally put my headphones on, I realized how much I need to lose myself in songs.  Apparently, this is has become a way of letting go or calming down.  I love songs that continually break my heart.  I don’t particularly want a real broken heart, but I suppose a broken heart by proxy makes me feel more open to the world? I’m not quite sure.

The Beats

Some keep trying to connect me with

the beats

but I was vastly unpublished in the

50’s

and

I very much

disliked their vanity and

all that

public

postering.

And when I met most of them

later in my life

I still felt that most of my

feelings toward

them

were the

same.

Some accepted

that; others thought that I

should change my

viewpoint.

My viewpoint remained the

same: writing is done

one person

at a time

one place

at a time.

and all the gatherings

and tenderings of

proclamations toward the

flock

has very little

to do

with anything.

Any one of those

could have made it as a

shoe salesman or a

used car

salesman.

And they still

could

instead of bitching about

the changes of the fates and

the ways

even

still

now:

From the sad university

lecterns

those hucksters of the

despoiled word

working the

hand-outs

still talking that

dumb shit.

So, alone at the house for a couple of days. This means loud music ANY TIME OF DAY OR NIGHT!!!

This morning I can’t stop dancing. Perhaps it’s my new T-shirt from the school I just got back from. Perhaps, it’s  the drumbeat that makes my shoulders begin to move.  Aw, it’s always the drum beat. A good drum beat energizes me, makes me lose myself. I love it!

Passion Pit- Eyes Like Candles

I am sorry for the creepy still photo video accompanying the song!

I haven’t quite figured this one out yet. I suppose it’s because I see how lovely they make women legs look, and they seem like they would be fun. And for someone who doesn’t wear them (and probably for someone who does) I walk well in them.  I can dance in high heels. Just last week I tried on some four inch stilettos with a platform.  They made me somewhere over six feet tall.  The main problem with heels, is I fall, a lot. I fall wearing any type of shoes. I fall wearing clogs. I fall wearing Converse. In the end there isn’t much to this post. Only a wistfulness that I could wear high heels. I also wish they didn’t hurt my toes so much!

My obsession with Michelle Obama continues. A old friend (he is not old, older than me, but, we caught up recently) and I have begun our political movement based off of the strap of Michelle Obama’s Inaugural Gown designed by Jason Wu. At first I wasn’t too fond of the strap. But as I looked at the dress, I  realized I like the strap. After forcing my friend, by email to stare at the dress,  (or at least he was nice enough to pretend) he realized his love for the strap as well.  (that sounds either dirty, or like a violent parent).  Our Political Movement, well, we haven’t quite figured out what it stand for, or what we hope to accomplish. We just know we are the  SO’s.  Or the Strap On’s!  But we wrap ourselves in chiffon and fight for the greater good of the strap!

McCain has learned the secret.  The secret that any woman who wants to vote can be swayed by a candidate with a vagina.  No matter how polar (bear hating) opposite Palin may be from Clinton, we women will vote for her, because OH MY GOD, SHE’S A WOMAN!!!! I have thrown my pro-choice, work to save the environment, not in favor of guns, beliefs out the window for Palin’s vag!!! 

Yeah, I was never a Hillary supporter.  I mean she’s a great POLITICIAN!!!! Both Clintons are great POLITICIANS!! Their marriage has to be a sham. Maybe it was once built on love, now though, maybe respect, but really, it’s about getting ahead.

I am a full supporter of Obama and having a woman in the White House doesn’t sway me, unless that woman candidate is the utmost qualified candidate for the position.  

Thank you John McCain for realizing we women cannot tell the difference between one woman and another.  Thank you for realizing at the end of the day, we are all pretty silly,  and probably should count ourselves lucky that we even get the opportunity to vote.

Let’s get a real woman in the House here:

I am infatuated with Michelle Obama.  Before her speech, I didn’t really know much about her.  She absolutely  wowed me! She wrote her own speech (with tweaking from Barack’s speechwriters), she is so well spoken.  She is lovely, graceful, stylish. Seriously, I cannot get over her outfits the past couple of nights, just gorgeous. Watching her on Colbert Report, she is able to laugh at herself and at her husband, not in a mean spiteful way, but in a “he may be running for President but he still has to do the dishes after dinner” kind of way.  The two of them seem like a great match, intellectually, idealistically, and fashionably! I loved their little “punch in” that people were so up in arms about. That’s what we need, a couple who truly honor one another.  They must be the next first family! 

I want to have coffee with Michelle Obama! We could go for iced coffee (although I see her as more of a latte drinker) and cranberry/orange scones!! 

While I would prefer to keep my migraines out of this blog, I have found that it may be near to impossible.  You see, I suffer chronic daily headaches as well as frequent migraines.

Oh they’re clever too. They can strike quickly, or very sloooow! Sometimes my fingers begin to tingle.   Every once in a while I become  mean, unbearably mean, like the bully who would pick out any physical trait that made for good fodder. There are times that I become rock bottom depressed wondering how my world began to suck so hard.  

Then there is the the slow loss of my vocabulary.  It used to be after a severe migraine, I would lose words very easily.  I pictured my brain with grill marks charred into it.  Now though, everyday I struggle to find words and often wind my way around to what I’m attempting to in say in five words rather than two.

 As a poet this is turning out to be the hardest part.  

Sure migraines are good material for poems.  The intense pounding of my head, seeing weird lights,  feeling like a pencil is being pushed into my temple or sometimes my inner eye.  Or the time (TMI ahead) I threw up red Gatorade and (not wearing my glasses) thought I had internal bleeding!
But this loss of words has really thrown me.  I was used to losing words for a day or two during recovery from a brutal migraine.  Now, I forget words daily, or for a week at a time.  I have to describe to Mike what I am trying to say, in order to find the word.  It’s a little unsettling.  

It also leads to a lot more revising in my poems.