The Colander Canon vs. I Don't Know What Everyone Else Did This Weekend

By débora Ewing
So. Let me start by saying I find a certain sexiness in the art of colanders - the word itself, too. I no longer have my grandmother's star-patterned aluminum colander; the one on my wall is more modern with clean lines, marring only visible from discreet angles. That's not why we're here, but it matters to the narrative.

We're here because I've found myself entangled with a Gordian knot of poets on Twitter. Nothing edifies my strangled artistic octopus-heart more than volleying word-games. NOTHING. The weekend took a circuitous route through winter synaesthesia, poetry readings, and book-shelfies, ending with two important things:

1) Pablo Picasso published a book of poems while he was on hiatus from art. The surprise is not that he did it, but that I didn't know about it.

2) Colanderesque as a word is in use, mostly outside the United States.

Somewhere in the middle of the knot was discussion of juggling muses, in which I was called brave.
There's a fine line between brave and insane ;) also, I think that line is permeable. - me
...and that's where it all blew up. #Colander-esque, he said, and we declared that a poetry prompt. Please enjoy the following fruits of our maddened and leaking minds. This is the post that just keeps going. Note that our first selection doesn't actually use the word.



a thought i held: slipped 
my fingers, left behind a palmful 
of tea leaves

débora Ewing
@DebsValidation

my heart wakes, colanderesque
dreams seeping through
leaving

stains on the carpet
a path through the door
puddles in the gravel
next to the magnolia

-what did we find
looking up
into the eyes of Orion
(sultry
or
worried)
sending us back to bed?

I'm too coffee for soon.
Mark H Fitzpatrick
@mhfitzpatrick

out of leaves
comes the stream
eddies of cloud
rolling and pink
colanderesque
picture on a
glass-water lake

A.W. Shawber
@AWSpoetry
They might say
we’re weak
leaky
full of holes
from which flows
all that
we contain
who knows
they could
be right
shepherdmoon
@shepherdmoon53

he fell from the sky
impaled by the
Luxor Obolesk

he died at the tip
of an Egyptian structure
residing in the heart of Paris

a flood of blood
laved the pavement
art met madness
the city’s mood was
colander-esque 
separating tragedy from history

she repaired the spindle 
in her grandmother’s 
dining room chair 
she sat on this chair 
as a little girl, solid oak 
now her date was at 
Thanksgiving dinner 
he had sturdy hands 
& good posture 
they washed the dishes 
soapy hands in deep colanders
Bradley Nordell
@BradleyNordell

Colanderesque realities
Distilled in
pointillistic ontology.
Lagrangian futures sieved
In coffee shop idioms
Entombed by
Kafkaesque societies
crisscrossing boulders
Foretold by
chalkboard smears
& nihilistic fears
Seeking truth
In quantum fluctuated
Memories.

Breathless young diva
Takes to the stage
Colanderesque
Bright spirited
Brave
Dangerous blue-ringed
Octopus mind
Dance beats
Her heart meets
A partner to find
Stumbling
Quick step
Twister spinning
Inside
Waveforms malfunction
Coherency blind
UV her spectrum
Boldly she writhes
Melinda kneedeep in fiction
@ScienceGeekMel

My mind, the sieve
Memories wind their way
Through like
Viscous rivers
Serpentine
Through rapid-rocks
Neurons and tracts
Grasping at past joys
And pains
But they filter
Through colanderesque
Circuitry

I sit patiently
Fingers tapping on knees
A window-widow
Awaiting their return

Further Reading:
Writing by Aepha Deus

Melinda Smith
Science. Fiction. Sometimes both. 

Science With Friends 
Okay, technically this Apple Podcast is Further Listening. Check it out.

Coming Into Balance - a Blog 
Read the journey of an autistic mother of an autistic child. 

Pablo Picasso's poetry - Open Culture 

Comments

  1. MariSunday, 24 November, 2019

    "Couplandesque
    Couplandesque (adj.) To be philosophical about pop culture; to view aspects of mass media and cultural consumption as trancendental; to find meaning in that which is normally viewed as shallow or mundane. Derived from the works of Douglas Coupland, wherein pop culture is analyzed and celebrated on a personal level.
    Coca-Cola, Legos and McDonald's all in one film? How Couplandesque!"

    ReplyDelete
  2. MariSunday, 24 November, 2019

    "That last even includes poetry, to which Picasso announced his commitment in "1935, at the age of 53. At that point, writes Dangerous Minds' Paul Gallagher, "he began writing poems almost every day until the summer of 1959," beginning "by daubing colors for words in a notebook before moving on to using words to sketch images," ultimately producing hundreds of poems composed primarily of "stream of consciousness, unpunctuated word association with startling juxtaposition of images and at times an obsession with sex, death and excrement.""
    I like the poems that they cited in the article. And I GET the using daubs of color for words. It's like a shorthand language.

    ReplyDelete
  3. MariSunday, 24 November, 2019

    For me, yellow is happy, like a warm sun coming up, and brown is disturbed -- orange even more so. Black is that last restful peace of the dead. Greens are tricky. They range from a pastel green that means new ideas, creativity stirring to a dark, murky green that is the transition from brown to orange, somehow. Cloudy and murky, nasty. Blue is calm, also reflective of daylight and ocean water. Warm to cold. A painter's palette.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Please comment. Just Don't be a dick. Please subscribe to this blog. Email confirmation will be sent - please verify your decision to receive my validations.

Popular posts from this blog

At Ian's Place - Part One, in which you may find a creature....

By débora Ewing
Image
At Ian's Place - Part One I got this house-sitting arrangement with Ian through a mutual. I live at his place when I'm in LA selling art and while he's on tour, which is usually. Like a hippie crash-pad with only two hippies, one at a time. I picked up his keys at one of Cosmo's parties; even then Ian was en route to the airport. "So you need my schedule? Should I email it?" I yelled a little over the music. I was super-thrilled about this arrangement, but the casualness and unknown variables perplexed me, especially in the middle of a party. Did my momma warn me about this? "Yeah, no, there's a guest room. Should be all made up, might be dusty." Ian seemed distracted, maybe feeling awkward, too. "That guy in the pink t-shirt is Jack. He's my manager. Get my address from him. Hey, take care, man, my ride's here. I gotta go. I like your boots." He handed me two keys, no keychain - one for a deadbolt, I assumed
Keep Going »

Business Tattoos vs. Deb-utante Ball aka My Coming-Out Party

By débora Ewing
Image
Last night I worked out some business card designs, because I realise I need them. I've come to that point in the conversation a few times recently, and I had no business card to hand over. So. My waking thought this morning was that business cards are actually a huge deal. HUGE. They signify that I'm willing to BE IDENTIFIED, not just in the moment, but also later. That I am willing to let select individuals be able to locate me and ask me to do things for them, that I will consider their proposals. I am not only admitting but committing to the Universe and to myself that I will do things. Envoys take what is offered, Takashi.   I have to brand myself, like a tattoo. Unlike a tattoo, I can change my brand later (well, sort of like a tattoo - even there, we have options.)  And that's always been one of my pet neuroses:  avoiding a label.  I can't stand it when someone asks me, "Are you a ________________?" Writer, artist, poet, chef, dancer was
Keep Going »

PEMDAS, the Ship's Accountant - A Fairytale.

By débora Ewing
Image
photo by Masreth Fatima P EMDAS was a sailor, or he wanted to be...in truth he wasn't a good candidate as he  had one short leg and wasn't older than 12 years. His mother sewed him excellent suits and sent him to the grammaticus for tutelage in exchange for her tailoring skills.  She never told her son that his father was Poseidon, whom she'd met once in the agora. The old god was drunk on mead and didn't seem very godlike at the time, or maybe his swagger was from lack of familiarity with solid land, not so much intoxication. He was alluring, whatever the cause, and she succumbed to his allure on a pile greens and potato peels behind stacks of chicken crates. "You're so smart, and so smart," she'd joke with her son, who also swaggered a bit due to his leg. "The grammaticus is very impressed with your mental acuity. And you have the best suits! One day you'll be accountant for a senator!" Pemdas did not want to be an accountant; he'd
Keep Going »

Don't Be That Guy at the Party - Mitigating Toxic Relationships

By débora Ewing
Image
I'm seeing a potential negative to all this new-found awareness of self that's permeated the inter-verse. I and many other people are putting our opinions on self-care and toxicity out on the internet, so they all look valid. The awakening to acknowledgement of self is beautiful, and I'm glad to see it taking hold in our society. I've been a life-long proponent. Like with any seemingly-new thing, there's the temptation to jump into the deep end of the pool and fully immerse. And the next temptation is to become the guy at the party who quit drinking and smoking but still wants to hang out. He has advice for everyone on the evils of alcohol. He's trying to be helpful. There are thousands of articles on the internet about mental health, and now we have this blog post. I am not a certified mental health professional. I am observant, caring, possibly communistic in my belief that everyone deserves an equal chance to fall on her tuchas** . And when you fall, I
Keep Going »

My AA Story - Find Your Tribe

By débora Ewing
Image
I attended an AA meeting once in the early 80s, having hitch-hiked to Daytona Beach with the guy who would later become the father of all my children. Laden with sleeping-bag rolls , we were  befriended by people who live on the beach. They immediately showed us the ropes: you can attend the Meeting and get some free donuts and coffee. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. There will be lots of coffee. You will need it to stay awake during the 3 hours you aren't allowed to be on the beach. It isn't recommended for newbies to try and congregate under the bridge where the regulars go - folks are territorial. So those who don't have territory stay awake and wander the city for 3 hours. We ended up making another friend - a guy on a Harley chopper who let us stay at his apartment overnight. I had about 8 minutes of terror standing on a corner at midnight, waiting to see if this guy came back after taking away my friend; he did. The guy let us
Keep Going »

27 Hours of Philadelphia - Art in the Sky

By débora Ewing
Image
About the time I had my booth set up and I could relax, I realized where I was. One Liberty Place is that tall, pointy building you see in the movies when they show Philadelphia's skyline. We were in there, on the Observation Deck, setting up spooky art. I don't think my art is spooky, quite, but it isn't Disney . I like to call it Creepy Folk . Crows that aren't scared, banjo optional, like that. So I thought this event hosted by Jerks Productions might connect me with my people. I made no sales, but I definitely found my people. I met the Bone Lady - Rocky Digati of Darker Arts Studio , home of Osso Bella Human Bone Jewelry. If you're in the market for a human  radius bone necromancer wand, she's your gal. Rocky gets her bits from discarded scientific specimens. She does own an historic cemetery; she says, "we keep the businesses separate." She's a no-nonsense friendly soul. After setting  up, calming down, realising where I wa
Keep Going »

"Based on Actual Events" - Memory vs. Reality in Writing

By débora Ewing
Image
Processes are nonrigid, and resemblance to linearity is a mirage. Creative process has to alternate like electricity or cricket batters. I use input/output methods like playing the same song over and again until a painting is finished - the song builds the world and keeps the tone while I interpret what the universe has shown me. What I read is an important input to what I write, even when what I write is my own nonfictional experience. Favourite authors sculpted my understanding of what literature should be. Ray Bradbury is at the top of that list. I met him once at a book signing in Palm Springs, California, ca. 2001. He was more adorable than I'd always suspected he was: those red suspenders and khaki shorts, comfortable shoes and trouser socks. He'd just found out that  Fahrenheit 451   would be assigned reading in France, and he was so happy for his characters. They remained very real people to him, he told me. We had a great conversation before the media showed up
Keep Going »

Movie Review: Certified Copy, 2011 - What is the importance of the original?

By débora Ewing
Image
YEAH, no, I shot myself in the foot on this one because I don't like feely-movies. I was hoping, naively, for more focus on the the discussion of art's impact on society, but really I should have known better. It is sad how judg(e)mental I can remain watching these two strangers enact a very realistic fake marriage of 15 years .  A lot of the time I am siding with the guy: if the wine is bad, you say something. I had to stop watching, though, to comment on a pivotal point in the "marriage" - the pretending wife is complaining that her pretend husband doesn't see her, because he didn't notice she changed her lipstick nor her earrings.  On this I disagree, and I have to credit my ex-husband. Yardy rarely cared if I wore makeup or not. I clean up well, as they say. I often call makeup "battle armor", and it's important when how I present to society is important. It's important when I'm feeling especially unwell and ho
Keep Going »

Trigger-Happy vs. Bag of Onions, AKA Dr. Who is my Favorite Therapist

By débora Ewing
Image
I'm about to add "trigger" to the list of catchphrases that should be retired due to misleading connotations.  I've seen the term used by people (read: internet trolls) whose only goal is to cause reactions  for the purpose of some creepy short-term gratification. Triggers can be personal and polarizing:  mention the poet Robert Frost and I'm triggered immediately, because how you feel about him is going to impact how I feel about you. The concept of  trigger in therapy has been extremely useful for people who have difficulty navigating every-day life.  Using the word this way implies an element of surprise:  something new sets off a knee-jerk reaction   founded in an unrelated traumatic event.  Therapy can help you create a tool that works to keep you in control of yourself when you're triggered. The phenomenon I'm talking about here needs a different word. It's not a trigger; it does not present as surprise.  It's the thing you kn
Keep Going »

I Can't Follow You

By débora Ewing
Image
This is something you need to know about me: I am my own law of physics when it comes to dancing.  I can't lead, either - I just spin.  Okay, maybe it's not just dancing.  Yeah, pretty sure it's everything.  Having arrived here several times in my life, I am no longer interested in trying to adjust.  I'm good with spinning. Each of us, if we were paying attention, has lived several lifetimes in the skin we now own.  Maybe it's better to say we're leasing it - we will give it back.  The skin, the bones, everything will ultimately return to ash and dust; no chemicals can stop the process forever.  See this map on BBC: we have millions of years to work on it.    Nothing is permanent. Take a few minutes and sort your history - not into chapters, but into the lives you have lived.  The easy way is to note each allegorical death.  Less easy is to realise that each death is followed by a rebirth, messy, painful, embarrassing.  Having given birth I can tell you t
Keep Going »