potn by Jan Carroll

'Eyed'

lotd2

"The end of Reaganomics, the start of Obamanomics." CNN political correspondent Candy Crowley reporting the President's budget, which she also termed a 'sea change.'

bloglog

Sometimes there is hope of spring, looking at those buds. and hearing-
"I have chosen a timeline that will remove our combat brigades over the next 18 months.
Let me say this as plainly as I can: by August 31, 2010, our combat mission in Iraq will end.
As we carry out this drawdown, my highest priority will be the safety and security of our troops and civilians in Iraq." President Obama's rousing, historic speech in front of US military announcing his plans to end the war in Iraq and his total commitment to supporting US military families.

'buds'

potd by Jan Carroll

lotd

overheard in the lockeroom at Sweat gym-

two plumbers were working on the inner and outer walls of the shower, trying to line up their pipes for something. I don't know from plumbing. Anyway, the one on the inside said without a hint of vulgarity.

"I'm in your hole and I still can't feel a thing."

the other man said. "Well, try again."

Reminds me of a Sunday football game long ago with the whole football gay gang trudging over to the Bike Stop in a blizzard for a playoff game. Few sporting events are funnier than a football game in a gay bar. It veers from super macho posing to vulgar camp. Anyway, the lines, like the balls fly. But actually John Madden, the bilious, bloated motormouth sportcaster had the line of the day leaving co-sports anchor Al Michaels speechless.

After a critical sack that had the QB in a scramble Madden shrieked. "What can you do when a big guy like that is coming in your face."

The guys in the bar weren't speechless, except for one who laughed so hard he spit out his teeth.

bloggerdriller

Obama's oratorical skill is in a rarified class of Kennedy, Churchill and King. That fact that there is veracity behind the words taps into the wellspring of the American Dream.

What do Republicans have right now- the voices of Rush Limbaugh and Ann Coulter- and the GOP is so clueless that they won't repudiate their morbidly divisive message for good. Pathetic. Who are they shilling for?

lotd- "Dick Cheney's little shop of legal horrors."

Oscar redux

The emotional highlights of the Oscars came during the In Memorium montage when Paul Newman's image came onscreen. And, of course Heath Ledger's family accepting his postumous award to be kept in trust for his daughter Matilda. Course, I was already a puddle seeing Cyd Charisse's balletic carriage opposite Astaire & Kelly.

It was hard not to imagine Harvey Milk smile at Justin Lance Black's tribute in his acceptance speech winning best original screenplay for Milk. Justin related his personal story of hearing about Milk's assassination when he was a gay teen from a conservative Mormon background. He told gay and lesbian young people across the country not to listen to their government, church or family who tell them they are less than. Thirty years after his death, Harvey's message is passed on.

lotd- "Hey gents, what took you so long."
Hugh Jackman greeting his chorus line at the top of the stairs ala Berkeley during 'Puttin' on my top hat' number.

bloggerslacker confessional

Digging into the archives. That kind of day. Working on dialogue and refusing to speak to anyone unscripted.

Listening to those winds and remembering drinking shots with Gary in the kitchen at his house because we needed to get away from the pitch of the laughter in his garden that day.

Love Jan's photo. Winter mask mocking us.

with a reminder that it is still winter

'Picasso Puddled'

potd by Jan Carroll

bloglog

In anticipation of the Philadelphia Flower Show a visit to a garden of the past.

Delphinium

A Gay Garden, May 2000

‘Till the shadows
on his past
In a separate garden

No pansies, Narcissus, no dandies

Recessed in the room
so that you come to them
Little daggers drooping on the hearts of men

Except that we were
laughing
They couldn’t have cared less
Not to check the out of our minds
Blooms.
Throwing our heads back for
The last Brunch
The sun mocking itself
Tricking the eye into
Thinking that it is seeing a day of youth.

Then swaying
we don’t really remember graves
25 years ago before the lost dates
When everyone was ill
with the million-rooted blood hydra

So on this day,
we celebrated
Jerry’s black purple
Siberian irises
Operatic over
the campy furniture
And cheap mimosas

The aubergine
The puce gray filigree glories

Lurching by the
towering fox gloves

(in cream with black Pagliaci tears)
Spilt over its lips
That flash an afterimage

With the pulsing winds
making us blink
And slap each other with lilies.

Twin dahlia,
red and violet
Swat and sway their hips
Trying to dance against

the lazy chorus of chive hammers
In blur organza
brushing by
Spiked gay feathers
Tripping over bowl of clover

Whisper over
villainous amaryllis
loitering
With intent

Snapdragons lean in
Venereal shades
Under Gary’s
Arc of skidrow lattice

Populated with pale pink clematis
(ear-ringed and dreadlocked)

As
Ladies of the Nellie Mosers,
Descend.

On the Neon Medusa
Staring down
The granite dragon
Yawning, ignored

Root map of the ant….s
cotillion next door to
The red speck-flies
Amok on cream silk-hooded belles

Pussy willow bended
gnarled to beauty
Shown erect
because of the early heat
pricked
like other endless afternoons

Everybody vaporized
in outfits
That were forced bloomed
But now limp
with immediate history

The lovers gone, the
Friends changed,
perfumes from
A vanished era still around
Fading in and out with
Unheralded souls clutching
What were once and what

Will always be the
Ghosts of the gardens at Versailles.
Those forgotten roses
May still be here.

Not remembering promises not to
Have sex
Not to cheat on our lovers
Or press leaves between
The pages of the unsigned pact that

We are witnesses for each other
So the light changed
And there is still laughter
The same larkspur
dug out of Troy

To and about to drown
In the next rain
Dancing in this
Petrified metropolis
So fetid
this dank soil
Is seeded the next
Delphinium
So instead turn our back
On the blinding
Nespoli
Unforeshadow

Queen of the Garden

metroscape

You might have thought there were Santa Anta winds were whipping through Philly the last 48 hours. So intense in Rittenhouse Square yesterday that there was a concussive rush through the trees and howl around the buildings- no one was heard.

Oscar returns

Caught up with Oscar clips online yesterday and glamour is back, and Jerry Lewis is still cringingly bizarre.

A lot of the gowns were looking good compare to previous years, although there were a few from the house of Havesham. Kate Winslet's was great inside, but like most of them, dicey on the red carpet. Her blond hair, diamond earrings, pewter neckline, were fab.

The men thankfully have realized that there is no such thing as a modified tux. Either wear one or don't.

bloggerslacker

later

and still another part of the forest

potd by Jan Carroll

'watchingyouwatchingmewatchingyou'

and in another part of the forest

'group'

potd by Jan Carroll

metroscape

Midwinter lightshow over Rittenhouse Sq.
with the wind so blustery that clouds were moving in seeming
timelapse, casting technicolor, that like a noir film, would just slash
out to shadow over the buildings.

Divertissement d'un faune

Push down
Extend past vertical
Sideways dehors
De whores alright
Move the
Quantum dust out
Of the way
No rearrange them
Into my flight
pause
ballone
Pivote locus
My ass
(He was coming up with
This ugly movement
while I was fucking
him)
the vindictive bastard
Oh, to kill him later
but
he’s eyeing
One of the corp
vaffanculo bah vangoule,
relevè this!
What a hag
de basque saute
port de bra, through the fingers
Is that a deity I see or
The largest genitals in the world
Pas tempo
Oh, my god,
I thought the swans
Fucking died.


for Karl Schappell

wordswordswords

another lotd-

news item

Dick Cheney was described as "furious" at President Bush for not pardoning Scooter Libby.

let's see if that exactly describes the emperor's new clothes

furfurol
Furiae
furioso
ah, here we are then, furious-

angry, livid, pissed-off, bent out of shape, beside one, boiling mad, corybantic, crazed, demented, desperate, fit to be tied, frantic, frenzied, fuming, hopping mad, incensed, infuriated, insane, irrational, livid, mad, maniac, on the warpath, rabid, raging, steamed, vehement, vicious, violent, wrathful, but mostly ugly on the inside.

That about sums up this Dick. Now he's mad at his political concubine, I guess those two have finally ended their dysfunctional relationship. Oh, what stories I wish Scooter would tell.

bloggerdriller

Is CNN doing Bole?

Since my tv is still out I was listening to CNN Radio (TV) Live that bumped coverage of the President signing the stimulus bill, DC and world news for a 1/2 hour or more to cover A-Rod's non-denial denial press conference so he can continue playing baseball. Not that I don't love the game, I just don't think dugout digouts are headline news. A new low for CNN.

lotd- Bole

Slugger Alex Rodriguez answering the question that if he and his cousin didn't know Bole (pron. Bowl-ay) were scoring the Columbian substance but didn't know it was an illigal steroid, "why were you so secretive" about attaining it?

"Well, we knew we weren't eating tic-tacs." ARod said.

bloglog

Missed all of yesterday because of my bi-yearly migrane, which felt like a steel spike over my left eyebrow. I tried to type with the screen turned off and not looking at the keyboard (thank you for that typing drill Mrs. Simpkins of Chichester High), but this did little, the clicking alone was burying me.

Tried to catch up today but was getting nowhere then everything got flipped for my deadlines and schedule, which always makes for good Mondays. After getting back on track (and typing like a demon), I found myself backstage momentarily at the Academy with the cast of Turandot getting ready for dress rehearsal. Backstage anywhere is so intoxicating, but with these opulent costumes of Mandarin drama, it was surreal.

An hour later, just as unexpectedly, I was sitting in a very unruly audience at Verizon Hall for Placido Domingo's appearance with the Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia. As Joe Horowitz, the classical scholar might observe, the night had such a sense of musical occassion. Domingo may be older, but he still looks fab and his voice is as powerful and subtle as ever. He and costar Ana Maria Martinez, took a break from the arias and sang 'Tonight' from West Side Story. Domino may have salt and pepper hair, but he has the heart of Tony.

potn by Jan Carroll

'Profiled Again'

I'm not seeing any religious figures in this iceforma, so it probably won't tour like that tortilla chip with the image of Jesus or Elvis' 'teeth marks on pork chop.' The head does look a little familiar or maybe its the icewoman cometh this time.

One for my baby

It is all about the couples this weekend and that was certainly onstage at the Merriam Theater tonight for PABallet's modern program. Of course the draw is Frank, the ultimate crooner who underscores Twyla Tharp's 'Nine Sinatra Songs'. Even though it's probably my least favorite Tharp work. Perhaps condescending to ballroom? or maybe Frank, can't quite put a bent finger on it. Anyway, it's hard not to fall in love with the mirror ballroom spinning and Frank singing, again.

And certainly easy to fall in love with Martha Chamberlain and real life husband Jonathan Stiles. They're witty, sousy (Martha hilariously deadpan climbing over his back) and lyrical dancing 'One for my baby'. Chamberlain, who is dancing beautifully in any style lately really knew how to work her mod 60s v-line black de la Renta cocktail dress.

The program started with Peter Martins' 'Fearful Symmetries' and this company was on fire matching the dervish drive of John Adams score. The corps de ballet crisp, the four lead couples each conjuring distinct chemistry. In the central duet, Jermel Johnson and Chamberlain, commanding the air and the floor, with thrilling technical clarity at mach speed.

The premiere of 'Requiem for a Rose' by Annabelle Lopez Ochoa, scored to Franz Schuber's very romantic 'Adagio from the Quintet in C Major' with the 12 dancers (men too) in V-Day red skirts that flared out wildly. Ochoa's dancer clusters and processionals looking all the more dramatic with everyone nude to the waist. The central couple, Riolama Lorenzo and Sergio Torrado, smoldering with artistry.

Happy Friday the 13th

I always tempt fate and ignore superstitions. I walk under ladders, sometime ride under them, look for black cats and have broken every chain letter I've ever been threatened with. And even have brought on the maloights (just guessing at the sp.) at times by both foe and friend. I hate grand omens via religious tyranny, parental control or garden variety irrational logic.

Some may argue that's why I'm alone and have trouble keeping the lights on, but I would say go whistle in a dressing room.

Speaking of backstages, just the other day, President Barack Obama broke one of the most sacredly held superstitions of the theater- He mentioned Macbeth. And he did it at Ford Theater where Abraham Lincoln was killed. A President who is ready to tempt the lethal theater fates and with a great sense of irony and timing.

Actually, the onstage catastrophes that have befallen productions of what is always referred to in theater circles as 'The Scottish Play' are legion.

bloggerdriller

lotd- Snarky British journalist Richard Quest calling out his country's bank CEOs, who are offering pathetic mea culpas over bonuses, deliberate miscalculations and outright fraud.

Quest isn't buying it. He's not calling for more review of stocks and bonds in investments, but of the public flogging sort- "The public wants nothing more than revenge right now."

poem

Queer Fugue
"rarely said aloud and not necessarily bound to any objective accuracy"

Whisper the move
from silence to silence
to loss within loss
A crashing anterior onto
Breath that breathes by
Itself onto
unseen motion
fades
shadow in shadow in shadow

Descending silhouettes
reciting the unspoken
vestiges of carnality
repudiations of desire,
unsung
illuminate, the
diaphason of lust

cantos
of the senses
that lives past its
own conclusion
unyielded sanatorium of the mind
replayed scent of
the skin
of the skin in skin

the sleeping palm coils
sandtides hurl and bury
the untamed heart
as it searches everywhere
still
trumpets drown out the lyre.

Meditation

Worldnews item
Italy's health minister announced on television that 37-year-old Eluana Englaro died on Monday evening. Italian Senators had been debating emergency legislation to prevent doctors from withdrawing life support for Englaro, who was in a coma for the last 17 years.

Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi introduced the legislation in a last-ditch bid to circumvent a court ruling, which cleared the way for doctors to discontinue feeding Englaro last Friday. Englaro's family fought to let her die for the past 10 years.

Her father says she would not have wished to continue living in a vegetative condition. The case divided Italy and prompted Berlusconi's government and the Church to push to keep Eluana Englaro alive.
-------------

The questions of everyone's right to die challenges all of us to decide what we want for ourselves and others. Below is my 2005 Philadelphia City Paper commentary, reprinted in various versions in Metro NE and other publications. Difficult as it is, expresses my view.

Life Sentence

When it comes to a person's quality of life, there are no absolutes.

A few years ago, I wrote a controversial essay that was published in the Chicago Tribune about a mother who killed her sons, both of whom were in the last stages of Huntington's disease. My position was that Carol Carr saved her sons from a fate worse than death. So debilitated were her sons that they could not defend themselves against a system where there was no legal or medical recourse to spare them the pain and suffering of keeping them alive.

My commentary sparked a protest in the Tribune lobby by people who felt I was endorsing euthanasia. But I based my opinion on seeing a family member go through what is blithely termed a "vegetative state" and die by the minutes over the course of many years. My purpose was to take the argument out of the absolute terms of "right to life" as well as "mercy killing" arguments.

Everyone has the unquestioned right and duty to define their existence and live as they want. But when a person can no longer make their final wishes known, the medical and legal establishment most often works against them. We have established laws preventing criminals from suffering "cruel and unusual punishment," but in such cases as the Carr's sons, and now Terri Schiavo, medicine and law override very intimate and personally profound ethics.

Like Schiavo, my sister Barbara was also placed on a feeding tube. It was our family's understanding that it would be temporary. From the start I always felt my sister would consider being on a feeding tube an extreme measure to stay alive. Even though she suffered paralysis for more than a decade on the right side of her body, she still was able to pull the tube out of her stomach the first time we were alone together.

The message was clear: she was telling me she rejected this measure. It was a dramatic moment, and I wasn't able to handle it and do my duty as a loving brother. I was a coward. My overriding thought, which I expressed to her, was that I would be held responsible. I further emotionally blackmailed her by saying it would kill my parents to find her like that. My parents were heroic in protecting my sister's life. I respected their decisions wholeheartedly.

But I regret my decisions now. My sister persevered for years, losing every shred of human dignity, progressively deteriorating without being able to express her will.
Just take the feeding tube.

Over a seven-year period, she had to have it replaced a dozen times. Most days she vomited from it, and it frequently caused her acute abdominal bloating and pain. At the end of her life, she stared at it for hours on end. I think now it was because it became her whole life.

Torture devices were outlawed centuries ago, but with medicine's ability to keep us alive, we have a virtual stockade supported by the law.

Certainly, the wishes of Schiavo's parents should be respected. They are bravely committed to thier daughter's welfare. But what Michael Schiavo knew to be his wife's wishes must be given equal, if not more, legal weight. It is legally established that a spouse is morally and legally responsible for such decisions. This couple's mistake was not to have it clearly in writing.

My lover, Jack, died this fall after a three-year battle with liver cancer. We had discussed these issues, and when I was in the hospital with him those final days, I realized even though I knew what he wanted, the system could have kicked in and he could have been kept alive artificially.
Since we had no legal standing as a gay couple, my advocacy for his care and how he wanted to die could have been ignored. Fortunately, it was not.

It means everything to me now that we were spared the public scrutiny or the legal and moral judgment of a most private matter. At such times, things don't fit neatly into the prevailing medical, social, legal or religious debates. It is clear to me, though, that in cases like the Carr's and Terri Schiavo, it is the arrogance of others to expect someone to live a life of pain and confinement without the possibility of parole.

potd reminded me of scene

from 'Jellyfish ball' when

..veins track
four successive weather fronts
bending in and out
like speeded film frames
from biblical epics
portending this
is the (last) winter
of the centurium
so forget about
the starvation of coral
or even this
Ice veil that tells
a million stories.

ice20909

potd by Jan Carroll

bloggerslacker confessional

Actually, bloggersnacking, I can't stop this incessant snacking. Fortunately, I'm running out of food.

LOTD- headline

"22 Mummies found in Egyptian Tomb."
Archeolegist claimed the bodies were
buried together after a freak dance accident at a party
thrown at a 26th dynasty Saqqara wedding party.

potd by Jan Carroll

'snowdoodle'

bloggerslacker

Despite how it may seem so, dear doves, but I am not bloggerslacking. I'm trapped in the other room with paralysing thoughts (and the odd crushing notion or two). No, actually, I'm trying to write burlesque scenes for a play, but only want to contemplate the riches we enjoyed in world dance this week with Batsheva at the Annenberg on Tues. and the debut Philly program of Kun-Yang Lin/Dancers at the Painted Bride.

metroscape

Could Syd's landscape be any more gorgeous? In another part of the forest, the urban forest, walking home from the Annenberg Tues. night, it was almost breathtaking walking over the river to see the Philly skyline lights blurred. Dark and brilliant and private. And then, coming up on Rittenhouse Square, a concussive silence in the intimacy of snow.

potd by Jan Carroll

'Syd in Snow'

Dancemetros

Tonight, for one night only, Israel’s Batsheva Dance Company makes its Philadelphia debut performing “Deca Dance” a full program of works by BDC artistic director Ohad Naharin. BDC was formed in 1964 by Martha Graham and Baroness Batsheva De Rothschild and now has 65 dancers fulfilling its mission for “art… to strengthen common human values through the power of creativity.”
Naharin has created works for companies world over including the influential Nederlands Dans Theater. "Deca Dance is something I have been playing with for some time. It’s a modular piece that keeps changing. I can reconstruct my work and create something coherent from the broken pieces, that gives me, the dancers, and the audience pleasure.” Naharin said.

bloglog

leave me alone, my head is swimming

Groundhogs and pothogs
Mounting evidence that Punxsutawney Phil smokes pot, since he stays in hole all year and may or may not see his shadow when he emerges from his lair. Smart fat rodent. Minds his own business and keeps his own winter hours. And everybody loves him.

Olympic champion Michael Phelps should take a lesson and not bend over backward underwater to apologize for smoking a bowl. Note to Michael: You are the best competitive swimmer in the world over two Olympics, how perfect do you expect yourself to be.

It would be unnatural for someone his age not to share a hookah or two. Besides, it can only relieve his OCD symptoms, so it should be medically available.

POTD by Jan Carroll

a peek at the coming green as the cold snap goes limp on the first Feb day.