Beyond the Screen

     Nowadays, I don't spend a great deal of time outdoors. The neighborhood in which I live is not congenial for walking, neither atmospherically nor from a safety standpoint. However, when I do go out to retrieve the mail or the newspaper, or to take out the garbage, I can't help revelling in the sights, sounds, and scents around me. I note the color of the sky and the arrangement of the clouds. I listen for the familiar ramblings of our neighborhood mockingbirds, the mellow coos of mourning doves, and the sharp chastisements of grackles. A stray cat may be curled up in one of our large round flower tubs, or in the corner of the box beneath our picture window. In spring, I look up to see our purple martins, the ones that nest in our backyard condos, gliding and circling overhead like miniature airplanes. The breeze may carry the sweet perfume of our neighbor's mountain laurel. Those brief moments provide a much needed respite from electric light, the sound of the TV, and the non-human companionship of the computer.

     At least the computer is situated by a large window, and from time to time as I sit clicking and scrolling and typing, there is a welcome distraction in the form of birdsong or a glimpse of a passing cat.

 

 

Beyond the Screen

 

Sometimes when at my desk, facing

the impersonal face of the flat screen,

 

I hear a mockingbird rejoicing in the rose arbor.

My mouse pauses its questing course as I listen

 

to a repertoire of songs gathered from

all the arbors and all the forests of the world.

 

I look beyond the screen and out the window

to see a cardinal perched on the door of my car,

 

grooming herself at the side view mirror.

She is fastidious in her routine.

 

She knows she must be lovely

before flying into the day to chase the sun.

 

Outside my window a cat saunters silkily

across the flower box and onto the sill.

 

When I tap the pane it stops—

seemingly without surprise—raises a paw

 

to touch the glass in solemn blessing,

then saunters on to windows unknown.

 

I turn back to the screen and its

ever-widening net, an infinitely smaller world.

 

 

© Leticia Austria 2012

On Being a Fickle Diarist

     I began keeping a journal in the eighth grade. My sister Alice, who was four years older, kept one—I would see her on pleasant days sitting against the trunk of our front yard tree, scribbling away in a red notebook. She encouraged me to start my own.

     I certainly am not the kind of diarist that feels compelled to write every single day, even if it's just about the weather or where I went or what I ate. I am also not the kind of diarist that can turn ordinary events into something extraordinary or profound or, at the very least, entertaining. Most of the time, I write only when I feel like writing, or when something happens that warrants recording—though there have been events, like the death of my father, that I simply couldn't write about. Yes, I go through phases when I feel obliged to write purely for the sake of exercising my writing muscles, which, from time to time, turn to flab (I'm going through one of those phases now, which is why I feel obliged to write this blogpost).

     As I type this, I reflect on the fact that I haven't written in my journal for many months. I feel a small twinge of guilt when I see the black Moleskine lying on the shelf near my bed. Sometimes I open it to my last entry and say to myself, Oh, you naughty girl, you really should write something. But then, the next moment, I think, Why? If I don't feel like it, why should I? Do I have anything important to write? Even if I don't, why can't I just write?  My life is small and uneventful, but so was Emily Dickinson's, and look what she managed to put on the page! Why can't I do the same?

     The answer that always comes is, of course, that Dickinson was a genius poet and I am not. Pepys was a master diarist, and I am not. I can only write what I write, when I can write.

     Still, like anyone else who has kept a journal for years, faithfully or not, my journal is unspeakably precious to me. It is my best friend, my closest confidante, my therapist—cliché, but nonetheless true. Sometimes after a long hiatus, I have a writing burst and everything I've held back in those silent months flows forth uninhibited, things I never knew were in there. It's like having a reunion with a great friend I haven't seen in a long time. Chatter, chatter, chatter. As if we'd never been apart. So I'm not greatly worried.

Niles Crane's Greatest Lines: Season Ten

All quotes were lifted directly from the DVDs and checked multiple times for accuracy.

"The Ring Cycle"

DAPHNE :  Well, I'd better go and figure out what to pack for the honeymoon!
NILES :  I'm just bringing sunscreen.

"Enemy at the Gate"

ANGRY MAN :  Only rich people have time for this kind of crap! Just pay the two bucks, Mr. B.M.W.!
FRASIER :  My income and the style of car which I drive are irrelevant. Isn't that so, Niles?
NILES :  Yes. I drive a Mercedes, and I would have paid ten minutes ago.

"Room with a View"

NILES :  (groggily)  Oh, now, Daphne—you know all the important papers are in my top left-hand drawer—
DAPHNE :  Let's not talk about that right now. You just relax.
NILES :  Okay, Daphne. You know, Daphne—they do these procedures hundreds of times.
DAPHNE :  I know.
NILES :  Okay. It's practically routine, Daphne.
DAPHNE :  Why do you keep saying my name?
NILES :  I just want to say it as many times as I can. Daphne.

"Don't Go Breaking My Heart"

NILES :  Did you hear what the conductor did to the Andante? I just hope he bought it dinner first.

++++++++

DAPHNE :  What happened? Are you all right?
NILES :  (out of breath)  Yes ... I just jumped into bed with your mother.
DAPHNE :  Oh, dear. No wonder she screamed.
NILES :  That wasn't her.

"We Two Kings"

NILES :  We were hoping to borrow your wassail bowl.
FRASIER :  Oh, I'm sorry, Niles. I've already loaned it to Lawrence Emerson and his madrigal caroling group.
NILES :  Well, you can kiss that bowl goodbye. Frasier, the YuleTones are the bad boys of Renaissance Christmas music.

"Door Jam"

NILES :  I think I'll have the aroma therapy Swedish.
FRASIER :  Oh, Niles—look at this bounty. Take a risk! Be a man!
NILES :  The chardonnay rose hips salt glow?

"The Harrassed"

NILES :  I was hoping to come here and complain about my office remodel. I'm annexing the dermatologist's office next door, and in a cheap irony, my skin is breaking out.
FRASIER :  Ah, your spackle allergy again?
NILES :  I'm covered with tiny bumps. It's worse than the summer we added the breakfast nook to the treehouse.

"Kenny on the Couch"

DAPHNE :  If you want to learn yoga, why do we need some fancy private teacher? There are classes we could take together down at the Y.
NILES :  Yes, and afterwards, there are anti-fungal lotions we can use together, too.

++++++++

NILES :  You're seeing patients again?
FRASIER :  Well, just this one for the last three weeks. Very challenging case, too. The man has father issues, any number of neuroses, and a phobia or two.
NILES :  Sounds to me like you've hit the crackpot!

"Roe to Perdition"

FRASIER :  (holding a jar of Baluga caviar)  You really must try this, Niles.
NILES :  (tasting a spoonful)  It's like being kissed by a lusty mermaid!

"Some Assembly Required"

DAPHNE :  (to MARTIN, furious) Well, I told [Mum] we will not tolerate this inconsiderate behavior anymore! If she wants to be part of this household, she has to get off her lazy bum and help out around the house! How did I put it, Niles?
NILES :  I couldn't hear you; I was in the panic room. But you looked very forceful on the monitor.

++++++++

NILES :  Dad, are you sure you want to do this? I spoke at a Career Day once.  It was a disaster—all the taunting and yelling. I haven't been so afraid of third graders since ninth grade.

++++++++

NILES :  (to an assembly of fourth graders)  Is influenza cool? Is scarlet fever cool? Do you have any idea how many germs there are on just one finger? Yes, that finger, for example.

"Farewell, Nervosa"

NILES :  (apprasing the decor of a new café)  Well, they found a way to bring the charm of an airport to a midtown location.

"The Devil and Dr. Phil"

NILES :  I think I've figured it out. Bebe wants to have sex with a human male to bring about the apocalypse.

"Fathers and Sons"

NILES :  (to DAPHNE over the phone)  Okay, so "Delilah" is out? No, no, that's fine, that's fine. What are your ideas? ... Taylor ... uh-huh ... Fletcher ... Cooper ... Tanner .... Where are you getting these, The Big Book of Medieval Professions ?

"Analyzed Kiss"

FRASIER :  A gun show? What's next, square dancing?
NILES :  Maybe. This country was built by gun-totin' square dancers.

++++++++

NILES :  Oh, I can't believe you two. You're always telling me my friends are too artsy and too snooty. Now I finally have friends who are regular guys, and you don't like them, either? Well, I'm having a good time, and I'm enjoying being a regular guy myself.
MARTIN :  Niles, we think they want to overthrow the government.
NILES :  That's what you say about public television.

"A New Position for Roz"

NILES :  (to GERTRUDE )  We've decided to start trying to get pregnant.
GERTRUDE :  (snidely)  Oh, well, I'm glad you think you can. I was beginning to think there might be something wrong with your equipment, Niles.
NILES :  Oh, were you? Well here's more news: you're out of the house, so pack your bags and find another sucker.

Good Intentions

     Lent began with every good intention to make the most of it on my part. At Ash Wednesday Mass, as we partook of the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Christ, I felt a more profound sense than I ever felt before that all of us were being united in and as Christ's mystical body. It was an overwhelming feeling, one of gratitude and certitude.

     The Tuesday before, I asked "Digital Nun" (a.k.a. Sr Catherine) to assign me a Bible book for my Lenten lectio divina (sacred reading). After praying about it, and without knowing anything about me, she assigned to me my favorite of the Pauline letters—Romans! I fairly yelped for joy. For those who aren't familiar with the monastic practice of lectio divina, it is different from other kinds of spiritual reading and study that may involve Biblical commentaries, writings by early Church fathers or saints, etc. Lectio divina is done only with the Scriptures themselves. After asking the Holy Spirit for guidance, you begin to read—slowly, taking in every word with care, without the intention of reading long passages, and without trying to analyze as you go. Inevitably, a word or a phrase will "jump out" at you. This is your precious nugget for the day, to meditate on, ruminate over, say in your mind again and again. Don't strain to understand it. The understanding will come.

     Of course, according to the Church's custom, I'm praying The Stations of the Cross every Friday. When I first returned to the church, the Stations were a favorite devotion of mine and I prayed them every week even outside of Lent. Why I let that practice go, I don't know, but now when I return to it during Lent, it never fails to move me deeply. I know most parishes pray the Stations as a community, usually on Fridays, which can be a very powerful experience, but I like praying them on my own, taking the time I need to meditate on each one.

     Abstinence from meat on Fridays, and fasting in general, is relatively easy at first. But Lent is a long season when one resolves to change one's usual eating habits. I suppose if I had better eating habits to begin with, Lent would be easier!

     I hope my good intentions will hold up through the coming weeks. "The spirit is willing, but ... " We all know the end of that quote!

     As I type this, the teenager next door is playing his stereo loudly enough for me to feel the measured thumping of its mega-bass through my walls. I wonder if he'll ever consider giving up his stereo for Lent?

    

Intercession

This sonnet was written during a period of experimentation. I was playing with a more casual style than the ultra-formal, quasi-Victorian one I had been using before this. I tried, in this poem and in others of that period, to hide both meter and rhyme underneath very conversational language, abundant enjambment, and even dividing words at the ends of lines to mask the rhyme. This actually gave me a greater ease and freedom with the sonnet form, so that when I later pulled back into a stricter formality, the results were more fluid and flexible, and less self-conscious, than they had been in the beginning.

Intercession

Since you will not, then I will pray instead.
I cannot sit here idly by and watch
you turn away in anger.  I have read
the bitter words you wrote; I know the lash-
ings out in rage that temporarily
emasculate the man you really are.
The fight is every bit as fierce for me,
for life is but a constant waging war
against ourselves.  And since you will not fight,
then I must soldier on for both of us.
My prayers will sing continuously, despite
the weakness of my voice and soul.  My trust
is strong—and though yours may not be, I cannot care:
for what could Heaven be to me, without you there?


© Leticia Austria 2008

Just 'Cuz I Love It

Eugène de Blaas
"God's Creatures"

Naturally, I love art that depicts nuns, and especially Dominican nuns. In my opinion, the Dominican habit is more "artistic" looking than any other habit, except possibly the Trappist/Cistercian habit, which is also black and white. The Dominican habit today is more white or ivory than cream; otherwise, it has changed very little over the centuries. However, some communities in warmer climates, such as Texas, have done away with the guimpe and forehead covering, retaining only the veil over a close-fitting cap. I do miss wearing the habit.

Niles Crane's Greatest Lines: Season Nine

All quotes were lifted from the DVDs and have been checked multiple times for accuracy.

"Don Juan in Hell"

NILES:  Gone is the citified dandy of just last week! In his place stands a feral Caliban, a sandy-bottomed Dionysus, a lusty, insatiable—ooh, scones.

++++++++

NILES: (to DAPHNE )  Roz told me about this wonderful nude beach. So I went down there this morning to check it out for us. It was so peaceful, I decided to do my sunrise tai-chi, have my naked body caressed by the rosy fingers of the new dawn, you know.
MARTIN:  Aw, geez ...
NILES:  Well, I left my clothing and my cares in the car, walked down to the beach and settled in for my first exercise, "Grasping the Bird's Tail." Just at that moment, the sun peaked over the mountain tops, illuminating not only my splendid nakedness, but the bus for the Christian Women's Society.
MARTIN:  They went to a nude beach?
NILES:  No, and neither did I. The next few minutes were a blur as I zigzagged my way back to the car while being pelted with driftwood and bibles. Needless to say, "Island Niles" died on that beach.
DAPHNE:  Oh, honey ... will he ever be back?
NILES:  Maybe at Christmas.

"The First Temptation of Daphne"

NILES:  (trying to contain his anger)  You have violated this person's privacy. If she found out, they could suspend my license—
DAPHNE:  (crying)  I'm so sorry—
NILES:  —and you—don't—trust me. How could you possibly think there could be somebody else?
DAPHNE:  Because I  was somebody else.
NILES:  What?
DAPHNE:  You were married to two other women while you claimed to have been in love with me. Now that we're together, how can I be sure, really sure, that there won't ever be another "somebody else"?
NILES:  Because I would never—  (He looks at DAPHNE and sees the pain and doubt in her eyes. He moves towards her and continues gently.) Because this time it's different. Our love is different. It's not based on somebody's expectations, or—or anything I'm supposed to be. When I was with Maris or with Mel, I found myself thinking about you. Going about my day, or—even when I was in a session—I found myself thinking about you. Well, now we're together. I find myself thinking about you. It's not going to stop. (DAPHNE puts her arms around him and they embrace) I'm still mad at you.
DAPHNE: (smiling to herself ) I know.

"Love Stinks"

FRASIER:  Niles—do you think I'm elitist?
NILES:  (soothingly) Of course I do; you needn't worry about that.

++++++++

MARTIN:  Oh, look! A picture of you in your first Little League uniform. (beat ) Don't know why I said "first."
DAPHNE:  (to NILES ) Was that your game face?
NILES:  Oh, no, no, I-I just lost a tooth due to an errant pitch.
MARTIN:  Tell her who was pitching.
NILES:  (sheepishly) I was.

"Bla-Z-Boy"

FRASIER:  (to NILES, referring to MARTIN ) Ever since our so-called anniversary, he keeps insisting on—
NILES:  Whoa, whoa, whoa—what does your anniversary have to do with this?
FRASIER:  Well, I guess it just set me off. It was as though everyone was saying that ... the only significant relationship I'll ever have again is with my father.
NILES:  So you're not mad at Dad. You're just mad he isn't a woman.

"The Two-Hundredth Episode"

NILES:  Do you know you have your pajamas on backwards?
FRASIER:  Another delightful quirk of mine.
NILES:  Not from where I'm sitting.

"Bully for Martin"

FRASIER:  I mean, after all, this is a man who served his country in Korea, who had a distinguished career as a detective, and yet he is being treated the way you would treat a-a grocery store bag boy.
NILES:  What does that  mean?
FRASIER:  Oh, don't you play coy with me, just because Daphne's here. I have seen you when your avocadoes are packed under your ice cream!
NILES:  Excuse me! That young man was on drugs, and everyone in the store knew it.

++++++++

FRASIER:  It's just that all our lives, Dad's been the guy in charge. I just hate to see him powerless like this.
NILES:  Well, how can you call him powerless? The minute you saw him, you ran into a storage closet.
FRASIER:  That's true.
NILES:  You're a grown man. You're still scared of him?
FRASIER:  Well, you're a grown man; you're still scared of him.
NILES:  Yeah, well, at least I have a girlfriend.
FRASIER:  Shut up.

"Mother Load, Part One"

DAPHNE:  Where are we supposed to put all this? I cleared out two drawers. This would fill two closets.
NILES:  Well, we said we'd both bring whatever we needed for any eventuality.
DAPHNE:  Isn't there anything you can leave behind?
NILES:  I don't see how. I have formal, semi-formal, déshabille, wet weather, cold weather, cloudy. I mean, if there's something here you find excessive, jump right in.

"Juvenalia"

ROZ:  First of all, enough with the earrings. Everything doesn't have to be so fancy. Don't get me wrong—jewelry is terrific, but sometimes a woman likes to know that you're paying attention. Mix it up a little. Do something crazy—I mean, totally  out there.
NILES:  Are you talking about scarves?
ROZ:  Okay, let me give you an example. When I was twenty, my boyfriend stole a Doyle's Pub sign for me. We were drunk, and we saw it, and he said, "Hey that's your name on that sign. You should have it." It was spontaneous, and a little dangerous. And very romantic.
NILES:  Spontaneous. And dangerous.  Thanks, Roz. You've given me something to mull over during my herbal wrap.

"The Proposal"

NILES:  I'm afraid I've poured so much emotion into this speech, I don't know if I can say it all without crying.
ROZ:  Oh, that's okay. Women like a man who isn't afraid to shed a few tears.
NILES:  Last time I got all the way through it, I got dehydrated.

++++++++

(FRASIER has just found out that his mother was pregnant with him when she married Martin.)

FRASIER:  Niles, how can you change the subject after this bombshell?! (NILES is silent) You knew?

NILES:  Well ... remember that time I had the chicken pox? Mom told me, to cheer me up.

++++++++

NILES:  Daphne Moon ... will you ... and your beautiful toes ... and your exquisite ankles ... and your precious knees, elbows, and arms, and fingers, and shoulders ... will you marry me?

"War of the Words"

FREDDY:  Uncle Niles, is it true that you walked offstage on the last word of the National Bee?
NILES:  Now, where did you hear that?
FREDDY:  Dad and Grandpa. They said you were one of the best.
NILES:  Well, they exaggerate.
FREDDY:  They said you were just as good as somebody named Kerek.
NILES:  Just  as good? (smiles and shakes his head, bemused) Funny. (beat) Anyway—the story is true. I've never talked about it before, but ... I will, since you also have the "gift." Have a seat. (FREDDY sits down. NILES brings over a stool and sits next to him.) I was, uh, a little younger than you. I'd been winning numerous competitions, but, uh ... I was obsessed with one thing, and one thing only: the National Championship. The time finally came, and there I was, standing on that stage, waiting for the judge to say the final word ... and suddenly, it happened. It all clicked, all the rules—"i" before "e," assimilations, etymologies.They all became one ... and then, became nothing. At that moment, I realized there was no word I couldn't spell. Competitions didn't matter anymore, because I was one with the higher truth that is Spelling. So when the judge said that last word, I simply walked away.
FREDDY:  Didn't you care what people said?
NILES:  Oh, people said a lot of things that weren't true. "He didn't know the word." "He was scared." "Mafia this." No, didn't bother me. 'Cause they couldn't take away what I knew in my heart. You know how to spell. And it doesn't matter what anybody else thinks.

++++++++

SPELLING BEE FATHER:  (referring to Freddy) You don't have to worry about ever seeing him again, son. Chances are, he'll end up in a state school.

(NILES, FRASIER, and FREDDY turn to face him, enraged)

NILES:  How dare you! (to FREDDY ) Can you take him?
FREDDY:  Yeah.
NILES:  Then spell his ass off !

"Frasier Has Spokane"

NILES:  (to DAPHNE ) Maybe later we'll try out my "Wagner for Lovers" CD.

The Scarlet Cupboard

I suppose this is a nod to both Emily Dickinson and Christina Rossetti. I have a predilection for small, slightly quirky, sing-songy poems that are conceits.


There is a scarlet cupboard
     Inside a scarlet room
Whose door is locked
And cracks are sealed:
     A silent, scarlet tomb.

It stands in silent penance
     While days and nights dance by
With lilting or
With ponderous step
     Till earthly time shall die.

Then will its door be opened
     And all its contents known;
The scarlet notes
And scarlet knots
     To judging eyes be shown.


© Leticia Austria 2007

Niles Crane's Greatest Lines: Season Eight

All quotes were lifted from the DVDs and have been thoroughly checked for accuracy.

"The Dish Ran Away with the Spoon"

DAPHNE:  What's left for us in Seattle? Ex-wives, an ex-fiancé, a tangled mess of bitterness and hurt feelings.
NILES:  Yes, but an excellent symphony and world-class dining.
DAPHNE:  Then there's Canada. A fresh start, a chance for adventure.
NILES:  Grizzly bears.

+++++

MEL:  Here's the watch I was going to give you as wedding gift. Please wear it when we're together.
NILES:  It's, uh— (sees something engraved on the watch)
MEL:  Yes, it said "Forever yours." I-I scratched it out with a screwdriver.
NILES:  There's something else crudely carved here, but .... Ah. Well. At least you were able to use that "F" from "Forever."

+++++

NILES:  Pigeons? I don't like pigeons. They have no respect for public art.

"The Bad Son"

DAPHNE:  How are you holding up? Is that spider still around?
NILES:  Oh, I think he's realized he's more afraid of me than I am of him. (panicked) He's not in his corner! He's not in his corner!

"The Great Crane Robbery"

NILES:  Daphne, I know it's difficult. But once she gives me that divorce, we can go anywhere we want—Paris, Florence, Rio—
DAPHNE:  How about my room, to fold laundry?
NILES:  I hear it's lovely this time of year.

+++++

MEL:  At the intermission, invariably, some board member will come over to say hello, and I want you to fly into a jealous rage and throw a drink at him.
NILES:  That is unthinkable! I have a reputation in this town, and nothing will make me behave that way.
MEL:  Well, it looks like we're going to be married for a long, long time.
NILES:  (taking a moment to consider, then coolly)  I'll see you at Schwanda der Dudelsackpfeiffer.

"Taking Liberties"

FERGUSON:  Sherry, Dr. Crane?
NILES:  Oh, thank you, Ferguson, but even as we speak I have a bottle of Veuve Cliquot chilling in my apartment, and you know the old caution: "Champagne after sherry makes tummy grow wary!"

"The Friend"

MARTIN:  Hope Eddie wasn't a lot of trouble.
NILES:  Please, Dad, he was the perfect houseguest.
MARTIN:  Well, give me the details. Did he eat?
NILES:  Oh, like a horse!
MARTIN:  Slept well?
NILES:  Like a log!
MARTIN:  Was he regular?
NILES:  We're done here, Dad.

"Cranes Unplugged"

DAPHNE:  You always smell so masculine after you've finished exercising.
NILES:  Oh. (suavely)  It's the mango-kiwi shower gel.

"Motor Skills"

FRASIER:  Now, now, ladies—Niles and I are no strangers to the automobile. Niles, let's have a look. I'll pop the hood.
NILES:  That won't void the warranty, will it?

+++++

FRASIER:  We became back row hooligans, Niles. The very students we hated back in school.
NILES:  I always thought they were just mean. Now I realize they were simply acting out of frustration.
FRASIER:  So when Billy Kriezel tried to stuff you into your locker after math class, he wasn't really mad at you. He was mad at Pythagoras.
NILES:  Which is ironic, because a simple volume equation would have shown him I couldn't fit.

"Hooping Cranes"

FRASIER:  Gosh, Niles, you making that basket tonight was truly astonishing. And what's even more unbelievable is that you are now the proud owner of a rugged, ram-tough, all-terrain pickup truck!
NILES:  It occurred to me we could use it to go antique-ing.

"Daphne Returns"

PATIENT:  So you don't think I have a germ phobia?
NILES:  Not at all. Just a healthy sense of personal hygiene. Ah— (handing the patient a card)  Here is the number of the man who cleans my telephones.

+++++

NILES:  Actually, wait, Daphne. I-I'm gonna pass on dinner.
DAPHNE:  Oh, it's no trouble.
NILES:  No, I know. It's just that ... I don't really care for your cooking.
DAPHNE:  What?
NILES:  Well ... you're not the best cook in the world. In fact, you're not very good at cooking—at all. Bad, bad cook!

+++++

NILES:  Well, then I don't know what you want! I can't read minds, you know, and by the way, neither can you!
DAPHNE:  Are you saying you don't think I'm psychic?
NILES:  Not if you thought I loved your cooking!

+++++

FRASIER:  So how are things with you and Daphne, hm?

(NILES  only smiles)

FRASIER:  (to the waiter) Thank you. (beat) Niles, is everything okay?

(NILES merely looks at him, still smiling)

FRASIER:  (with the light of understanding) Ah.
NILES:  You know the best part, Frasier? It wasn't at all like I imagined it.

"Semi-Decent Proposal / A Passing Fancy"

NILES:  You know, if anyone's technologically challenged, it's you.
FRASIER:  (to CLAIRE ) He's a bit defensive.

(FRASIER says something to CLAIRE in German, to which she responds in German) 

NILES:  You thought your CD-Rom drive was a cup holder.

(CLAIRE  moves away)

FRASIER:  Thanks a lot! I was interested in her!

NILES:  Well, how was I supposed to know?

FRASIER:  I was speaking German.

NILES:  Oh, yes. The language of love.



A Singer's Farewell

     This is an early poem, written before I ever heard of syllabics. I simply liked the comfortable length of ten-syllable lines, and found that they suited a conversational style. Seven-syllable lines were also very comfortable, but felt more "verse-like" than conversational. Some years later I discovered that this technique of adhering to a certain number of syllables, but without using formal meter, was widely used and had an actual name.

     Saying goodbye to my dream of becoming an opera singer—indeed, to my voice, period—was not nearly as difficult as it would seem. I suppose I was never really very "attached" to singing, though I've sung all my life. Daily vocalizing and keeping my technique at its best are no longer the manic obsessions they once were. Nowadays I use my voice, which is only a modest shadow of what it was, to serve as cantor at Mass.

A Singer's Farewell

Never mind; it doesn't really matter.
Such things as were not meant to set the world
on fire, make scant smoke what at last they die.

No, mine was a small, unassuming flame,
just bright and strong enough to glorify
a modest room filled with second-hand chairs.

But change of room can be a world of change,
one flame unchecked alter the horizon,
and "just enough" may one day be too much.

Then reason asks, what does it amount to,
this cleaving to a thing ephemeral?
Only the scant smoke of futility.

Set free, it has become sweeter incense,
an immolation—yes, a holocaust—
but oh-so-slightly dampened by regret;

for I do miss the smaller warmth of old,
that empathetic flame whose color changed
with each song of my mercurial heart.

© Leticia Austria 2006

Saturday Scrap Bag

     Writing:  When new poems, or even the desire to write them, aren't forthcoming, I usually revise. Revising is a creative act, after all, and a craft in itself. It's best done, I think, after a good amount of time has passed since you wrote the last draft of a poem, and since you last read it, even years after; then you can be truly objective. Sometimes it happens that, when you do finally read it again, a kind of horror fills you, and an involuntary "Yech!" escapes your lips. That's happened more times than I care to admit. But the horror is motivating. So I have been revising, as my previous post attests.

    

     Reading:  Since the 200th anniversary of the publication of Pride and Prejudice  has just passed, I decided to reread it. It's been quite a long while since I last read it, so it's practically fresh to me, even though I've watched the BBC mini-series many times in the interim. On this reading, I find myself comparing Austen's dialogue to Andrew Davies' adaptation of it—the parts of speeches he chose to leave out, the parts he kept word for word—and also the bits of narrative that Davies converted into dialogue. I guess I'm fascinated with the whole adaptation process. What I find amusing, and not in a good way, is when screenwriters claim to want to preserve the "spirit" of a work but, with all their mucking about, trying to make it "fresh" for a modern audience, they actually manage to squash every bit of the spirit out of it, thus defeating their own purpose. They throw period vernacular out the window, and impose all sorts of social, political, and sexual innuendoes on the work that, more often than not, the author never implied. Davies, thankfully, is not one of those writers. He has indeed preserved the spirit of Pride and Prejudice, by respecting Austen's own words and staying as close as possible to them. He lets Austen speak for herself. This is one of the reasons his adaptation has become a true classic.

     Watching:  I never get tired of The Mary Tyler Moore Show.  Like the BBC Pride and Prejudice, the combination of great writing and fine ensemble acting keeps the show fresh. My mother absolutely loves it. Whenever we have a quiet afternoon, there's nothing she likes better than to watch three or four episodes (I have the whole series on DVD). I have almost every episode memorized, but that doesn't diminish my pleasure in the least. So The Mary Tyler Moore Show  will stay in my DVD library, alongside Frasier, as my "go to" TV series.

     Looking:  I've fallen in love with the Copenhagen Interior School of painting. Before I even knew about that school, or the artists belonging to it, I was drawn to the simplicity of composition, domesticity of subject, and muted palette, that characterize it and the artists' work. I particularly love the paintings of Carl Holsøe and Vilhelm Hammershøi.

"Woman in Interior" by Carl Holsøe

 

"The Poetry of Silence" by Vilhelm Hammershøi

 

     Wishing:  Apparently, Punxsutawney Phil didn't see his shadow, so spring will soon be upon us. I was so wishing for a longer winter and more genuinely cold days, anything to postpone what I fear will be another insupportably hot and dry summer. But maybe (God willing) we'll get more rain!