#78
Just ran across this one iny catching up reading....
96th STREET
By Foster Schrader
she lives in a one-bedroom; her cat died last fall. she sat
next to him when they put him to sleep,
but she couldn’t watch the needle entering his front leg.
there’s still a layer of grey fur on the chaise
and she still sometimes finds cans of fancy feast in her supermarket basket,
absentmindedly thrown in by the past.
she lives in a one-bedroom; alone. she thought
about getting a kitten, or a roommate,
but she’s too much of a person to seriously consider
explaining all of her idiosyncrasies to someone new.
peeling back all of her onion layers so they could see
her wobbly bits. she doesn’t even take her cardigan off in public.
she lives in a one-bedroom. she used
to keep her toothbrush in a coffee mug until
a coworker she slept with told her it made her look childish, so
she bought a fancy toothbrush holder with six holes.
she asked the woman at walmart if they had any smaller ones, cheaper
but the look the woman gave her was so drenched in pity
at the idea of not having five people to share a toothbrush holder with
that she bought it to chase away the shame.
her toothbrush looks out of place, surrounded by empty holes.
on bad days, she thinks it’s fitting.
—from Rattle #78, Winter 2022
Mick Jagger then and now
https://va.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ru45kkydrH1z5woe5.mp4
22 sec video w/sound
#MickJagger #78
I don't typically like long poems but this is a good one...Rattle Poetry Prize Finalist.
BASIC NEEDS
by Sarah Ederer
Listen,
I could tell you about the hot cat shit
That lay in the hallway
Just outside of my mother’s bedroom
Nestled into itself on the floor
Like a sleeping dog.
I could tell you that,
Like a sleeping dog,
We stepped over it carefully.
Like a sleeping dog,
We walked past it every day and
Most of the time
We ignored it.
I could say that we treated it like a part of the backdrop
A landmark of home
Hanging in the air under our noses
Like a soft-baked pretzel
Comforting and familiar
And you might think that I’ve said enough
For you to understand just how outrageous the situation was
But I haven’t.
The truth is,
The cat shit never bothered me that much.
Not at first.
There was a brief moment of disgust,
Sure,
But that moment would end
As quickly as I could take one step
And get over it.
Then I was in another room and,
As far as I was concerned,
The cat shit was gone.
What bothered me
About the pile of cat shit in the hallway
Was what I suspect would bother anyone:
How shameful it was
To be living that way.
But that shame wasn’t something I could access
In the folie-a-quatre
That was my childhood home.
I became aware of the shame much later in life,
Found it wafting over me one night,
When my own family’s dog
Had an accident
At the foot of my bed
And I got up to clean it
without thinking.
It was an automatic response:
There’s shit on the floor
It must be removed
Remove it.
It struck me like a freighter
That I had been robbed for sixteen years
Of something I felt that I was entitled to,
But never received.
I couldn’t quite put that thing into words,
But it amounted roughly to
“The right to not have to step over piles of cat shit
Every goddamned day of my life.”
Then the shame arrived
In its fullest form:
A revelation
About the burden of secrecy.
I had spent sixteen years of my life
pretending that the pile of cat shit wasn’t there
Waiting for me
When I got home from school.
I got so good at pretending
That sometimes I wasn’t even aware
That there was a pile of cat shit
Waiting for me,
For my mother,
Outside of her bedroom door.
But the cat shit was always there,
Lingering,
An ornament of a broken home.
The cat shit was there
When I kissed my first boyfriend.
The cat shit was there
When he fingered me in the car outside
And I lied and said my parents were home
So he couldn’t come in.
I stepped over the cat shit
And fell into my bed
And dreamed of him kissing me,
Touching me,
Touched myself to the thought of it
All while the cat shit,
Sun-dried and brittle,
Shifted with the floorboards,
With the weight of the house,
With its damned foundation,
Settling lopsided into the hole
Where the previous owner’s septic tank was
Until it eventually collapsed.
I spent sixteen years
Falling into someone else’s shit.
They kept twelve cats I never wanted
And they asked me
“How could you not want them?”
As if I was cruel
They called me Bob Barker
I repeated it so many times:
Spay the damn things.
You can be buried alive
By a certain kind of love
One that I’m not so convinced
Is kind at all.
But the cat shit wasn’t what bothered me.
Not really.
What bothered me
Is what I lost under the hordes of cheap, dysfunctional garbage
That my mother compulsively lifted
From flea markets,
Dollar stores,
Yard sales,
And clothing exchanges.
A book of nursery rhymes,
A keyless trumpet,
A mummified tangerine,
And a dressmaking dummy,
Buried under soiled laundry,
Buried under moldy dishes,
Buried under childhood photos
In frames with broken glass.
Buried somewhere under
The junk that nobody wanted
Was my family.
It became difficult to distinguish between the two.
I wondered to myself,
Standing next to a puddle of cleanser
At the foot of my adult bed,
Why I had never cleaned the cat shit
In my childhood home,
Why I stepped over it every time.
A form of protest, maybe
A sinking sense that it would never end
That twelve cats could shit faster than I could clean it,
That flea markets,
Dollar stores,
Yard sales,
And clothing exchanges
Never ran out of junk,
That I was a child
Who had a right to something
That I never received.
—from Rattle #78, Winter 2022
Rattle Poetry Prize Finalist
Sarah Ederer: “To me, writing poetry feels a bit like lancing a boil and sending a ‘thank you’ card to the pus. I tend to use free verse narrative fiction to tell the untellable stories of people marginalized by the taboo nuances of a life lived under oppressive domestic conditions. I hope to help make experiences that might make one feel unintelligible to the world a little more easily understood by emphasizing the humanity and dignity of the protagonist.”
#Rejoindre la #Manifestation du #7février #Liste de #bus
Rejoindre la manifestation parisienne du 7 février en bus !
Un récapitulatif des nombreux départs de bus organisés par les syndicats pour venir collectivement à la manifestation du 7 depuis la banlieue !
Liste régulièrement mise à jour.
Sommaire
- #77 - #Seine-et-Marne : https://paris-luttes.info/bus-bus-bus-16638#t77-Seine-et-Marne
- #78 - #Yvelines : https://paris-luttes.info/bus-bus-bus-16638#t78-Yvelines
- #91 - #Essonne : https://paris-luttes.info/bus-bus-bus-16638#t91-Essonne
- #92 - #Hauts-de-Seine : https://paris-luttes.info/bus-bus-bus-16638#t92-Hauts-de-Seine
- #93 - #Seine-Saint-Denis : https://paris-luttes.info/bus-bus-bus-16638#t93-Seine-Saint-Denis
- #94 - #Val-de-Marne : https://paris-luttes.info/bus-bus-bus-16638#t94-Val-de-Marne
- #95 - #Val-d’Oise : https://paris-luttes.info/bus-bus-bus-16638#t95-Val-d-Oise
Ne pas hésitez à consulter le précédent article de la manifestation du 19 janvier. Certaines informations (liens, contacts,...) pourraient vous être utiles https://paris-luttes.info/departs-en-bus-en-ile-de-france-16562
BRENTWOOD, APRIL 3rd
by Jasmine Khaliq
what is this, pulling me back the other way
to strip malls, highways, and treetops?
—Caroline Polachek, “Parachute”
for my twenty-fifth birthday I’d like to skydive
off vasco road they take people up
my dad did this once before I was
ever born; the hill opened up
his right knee. my mom watched, pregnant with me,
still unnamed, unsexed, surely the size of recognizable fruit,
surely recognizable fruit, every possibility. I’ll never do
that again, he says, but I haven’t gone, I want to go
skydiving; I think I would jump; I want to know california that way,
unnaturally; I want to rattle like shucked corn inside myself;
I want to see what my dad must have seen—after this,
he bought a house in the country; he bought my sister and I a childhood
drawing on our wrists with sap from gerbera daisies,
or that’s what I remember—I want to see all of it at once—
the last two decades mount diablo a movie theater new lots new lawns
two golf clubs on the other side of town—I went to high school
there my dad bought me a childhood here my sister and I,
but he never took us cherry picking. every spring
I fell in love with people who could never understand me,
and they’re reappearing in my dreams.
I’m still in love; we’re at any one of our old houses.
I used to drive to get you. dark blue chrysler with no a/c
in the worst of our summers.
those roads to your house I drive in my sleep.
o’hara, fairview, minnesota, lone tree. I liked to watch
you drive me. I still would. your jaw.
what was that alchemy? only proximity?
to write sometimes I put on lipstick, jewelry, vivaldi.
today: slow-motion videos of parachutes deploying:
birds of paradise above us, color by color peeling. I want it—
east bay rushing up toward me, unnaturally; those roads
I took; tense walks along deer creek. I wanted to disappear
here so many times. barely april and it’s hot enough to change
how the air smells—more animal,
more alive. would you have imagined me
making it to twenty-five? smaller in the sky than any recognizable fruit,
poppy blooming overhead, able finally to see these strip malls,
highways, our childhoods, endless, green,
every line—parallel, intersecting.
—from Rattle #78, Winter 2022
Jasmine Khaliq: “During the pandemic, I moved back to my hometown. By April 2021, I knew I was moving away again by July to enter my PhD program at University of Utah, and that I was moving for good, away from my family and the place of my childhood. I wrote every day in April in an effort to preserve my time there, both present and past. That overlapping sense of time I felt being there, and the inability to capture or see everything, despite my best efforts, came out in this poem on April 3rd (while I listened to Caroline Polachek on repeat). Poetry for me is always about this—trying to understand the relationships between the self and others, past selves, place, language itself—all of it, an alchemy.” (web)
https://www.rattle.com/brentwood-april-3rd-by-jasmine-khaliq/
Mantes-la-Jolie, des lycéens à genoux
#Radio #FranceCulture Première diffusion : 8/10/2019
C’est l’histoire d’une interpellation qui survient en pleine mobilisation lycéenne à Mantes-la-Jolie, dans un climat de haute tension. Maître Arié Alimi constate que "on a ciblé des lycéens à un moment donné de leur vie, au moment d’une grève c’est-à-dire le moment où d’adolescent on passe à citoyen. Peut-être que l’État inconsciemment se rend compte que s’il veut diriger plus facilement des populations, et bien il faut taper à la racine et faire peur tout de suite."
L’histoire de 151 jeunes interpellés par les forces de l’ordre qui sont restés agenouillés plusieurs heures durant, les mains dans le dos ou sur la tête avant d’être transférés dans différents postes de police des Yvelines. Un événement qui va laisser des traces. Un lycéen s'étonne : "On doit éviter les policiers ! Alors que les policiers, normalement, ils ont des yeux, ils voient qu’on est des enfants, qu’on est des élèves."
Pour les familles plus que blessées, il s’agit d’une arrestation humiliante et inacceptable. Pour le commissaire de la ville, il s'agissait d' "interrompre un processus incontrôlé", comme le confirme Arnaud Verhile, officier et commissaire de police à Mantes-la-Jolie. _"_Le recteur d’académie m’a appelé personnellement pour me remercier du travail que j’avais fait pour garantir la sécurité de cet établissement scolaire. C’est ça la vérité !"
Depuis, l’enquête préliminaire, confiée à I’Inspection générale de la Police nationale(IGPN), qui avait déjà établi "qu’il n’y avait pas de faute" commise par la police lors de cette arrestation, a été classée sans suite.
Mais que s’est-il réellement passé ?
#manifestation #lycéenne #lycéens #Mantes-la-Jolie #grève #adolescent #Yvelines #78 #citoyen #État #police #peur #répression #IGPN #Fr-Culture
Ученые объяснили "Пауков" на Марсе / Мюоны сломали физику? / Видео НЛО / Астрообзор #78
Ученые получили экспериментальное подтверждение теории, объясняющей уникальные геологические образования, которые называют "Пауками" на Марсе. Нужна ли нам новая физика из-за аномалии с Мюонами? Что там опять за “видео НЛО” подтвержденное Пентагоном? Это и многое другое в новом астрообзоре.
Сообщение Ученые объяснили "Пауков" на Марсе / Мюоны сломали физику? / Видео НЛО / Астрообзор #78 появились сначала на New-Science.ru.
