There are new images in the Gallery. (Click to the right.) Both were snapped in Santa Barbara, in December of 2009. In the one, I’m watching the news. In the other—and to offset the daily, news-watching aggro—I’m preparing to run on the Santa-Barbara beach.
Update (Jan. 21): Middle-aged men and women: What do you think I am? A toast to middle age. I like to say that I’m as old as Ann Coulter. And she too lies about her age.
BEAK
By Kit Wright
To the clicking of knitting needles, I fell asleep on the train
And I dreamed of knitting, is this what they call woolgathering,
Dreamed of my mother purling and plaining to patterns
In Woman’s Own Woman. I woke to a woman
Whose long mauve thumbnail was sharpened into a spike
And she texed, texed, texed with that pecking beak.
Update I (Jan. 18): Amazing. That readers of this blog would imagine I’d post a postmodern poem. The last bit of poetry I posted was that of the superlative Louis MacNeice. See “The Magic Of MacNeice.”
I skimmed “BEAK” in the Times Literary Supplement and liked it because it was so “plain” spoken and hit home hard in a few short sentences.
The guy dozes off on the train to the sounds of tapping, which triggers dreams of his mother’s pacifying knitting activity. He awakens to see beside him one of the millions of modern automatons texting feverishly with a beak-like implement. Haven’t you seen this specter all around you?
To me, “BEAK” is about a yen for a more comforting time in our collective past. It seems simple and un-intellectual (although not easy to write). It’s not written in post-modern parlance either. Any half-decent writer will admire “purling and plaining to patterns…” Neat.
My intention was not to perplex, but to please.
Update II (Jan. 19): The modern woman scares this man with her sharp edges. That’s another sensibility that jumped out at me.
And since BG brought up imagery, I was reminded of the wool shop situated in the central bus station of the Netanya of my youth. I had decided to master the art of knitting for a boyfriend of 4 years. (I wrote about the “the (unrequited) love of my life” in “About A Boy.”) Before being drafted, he was to get a pullover with intricate ropes down its considerable lengths, as he was “a powerfully built six-foot-three.”
It was a once-off affair: I mean the knitting, not the boy. The shop keeper provided all the instruction, patiently. The project was ongoing, and I’d pop in twice weekly on my way to school, for her to untangle knots and help when a new obstacle in the pattern presented itself. There was something so quaint and comforting about the deft wool lady and her knitting needles.
Does this poem evoke a sense of loss—perhaps becasue women no longer engage in homey activities we once associated with the comfort of mom, kindly shop lady, etc? When I read this little (never great, just neat) poem, I knew the poet was an older gentleman.
Homework: Check my instincts. Google his name to see if I am right.
Africa, Family, Ilana Mercer, Relatives, Science, South-Africa
Oscar is my recent rescue: a rare Cape Parrot. Or, more accurately, an Un-Cape Parrot (Poicephalus fuscicollis). One more homie. (You’ve already met T. Cup, my adorable, feisty, Senegalese Parrot.) Oscar is even closer to home (I hail from South Africa; his forefathers from South-Central Africa.)
The African parrots are the smartest of the Psittacidea family. I wonder why? Is it evolution’s answer to the sorry state of the Continent? Perhaps Africa’s parrots have evolved to take over. (Humor alert for the grim among you.)
The African Grey, in particular, is the most intelligent parrot. It can acquire upwards of 1000 words, sentences included, and displays considerable cognition. Observe Einstein in action. By her own admission, she’s a “Super Star.”
The pioneering researcher into African Greys is Dr. Irene Pepperberg. Here she is on CNN explaining how her work with the late Alex (for “Avian Learning Experiment”) shattered all preconceptions about the parrot as no more than a mimic. Pitted against a primate, Alex always won out.
Here Dr. Pepperberg both demonstrates and explains Alex’s cognitive and communicative accomplishments. (Of course, Alex would never have committed the syntactical infelicity committed by the human who titled this YouTube segment: “ALEX – One of the most smartest parrots ever!”)
My Oscar has the potential to be as smart as the Grey, but first he has to overcome the stunting effects of shop life. No matter how dedicated the breeder, three years with little individualized attention leaves its mark on such a sentient, sensitive, highly intelligent creature. In the case of Oscar, it is a plucking habit.
Here Oscar has climbed to the top of his giant castle, and is posing alongside my libertarian manifesto, Broad Sides: One Woman’s Clash With A Corrupt Society.
The Second Edition features bonus material. Ask Oscar. Get your copy (or copies) now!
And do pray that no more little, fluffy green feathers find their way into my gentle giant’s mother-of-pearl beak.
My mother was saying, “Do you remember the post you wrote in May of 2006 titled ‘Holland Keeps Afloat; Why Can’t New Orleans?’? Well, Time magazine has finally caught up with you. In November of 2009, Time ran an article with a similar theme.”
IlanaMercer.com, a one-woman outfit, is generally ahead of the game and the pack—sometimes years in-the-lead. Why are ilanamercer.com and the companion site Barely A Blog such good causes? If you don’t already know, do read “Why Support ilanamercer.com” for but a few of the reasons. Or spend some time burrowing in the archives of BAB and ilanamercer.com.
Times are hard, but if you value the commentary and the community on this space; if you appreciate the time I spend in crafting daily, original, topical commentary, keeping the Comments Forum open for your venting; responding to Comments, and ensuring exchanges remain civil and grammatical—please consider showing your appreciation.
I’m afraid BAB will be closed to comments for now until, well, I can be assured that the time devoted to moderating this well-supervised, interactive, labor-intense forum is time well-spent.
Thank you for your generosity (my homie, T. Cup, says hi).
Merry Christmas and a happy Hanukah,
ILANA
Update (Dec. 14): Bar those few faithful souls whose commitment to my causes I appreciate more than they know, I’m afraid the response to our Christmas appeal has been poor.
Those of you who have my P.O. Box are welcome to use it (and keep it private).
What are you supporting? A marginalized voice that beats most well-funded group thinkers out there in coverage and commentary.
On the topic of those fattened collectivists: Neil Cavuto has begun, lately (on December 11, 2009, to be precise), to cover the discrepancy between the respective incomes of workers employed in the private vs. the parasitical sector. Cavuto got his column “idea” from USA-Today data.
I beat both entities to it.
Let’s see, when was my “Life in the Oink Sector” written? September 25, 2009. That column was cited by the New York Times’ “Economix” blog. Needless to say, the Times would have never ever bothered to apprise its readers of the cost “of these pampered pigs”:
“There are upward of 20 million of these pampered pigs, hogging 87,000 different institutions in government and public education, where the payrolls are always lard-laden in comparison to private-economy paysheets.”
Ultimately, what neither the Times nor Cavuto will ever do for you is speak to the economic-cum-moral principles that differentiate the voluntary sector from the work force that uses FORCE to keep itself larded up.