I is for many things, I have no problem choosing one, but for the past 24hrs or so, the process has been my typing a word beginning with i followed by me staring blankly. Using my very own advice about writers block (when you can’t write, write anyway), i decided to type out a handful or so of the words that come to mind and then waffle a bit. And so, without further anything, I give you …
Things I like, but don’t have the brain to write about in depth:
(I’m gonna mix up i for first name and i for surname because cannot braaain.)
Henrik Ibsen – I aimed consciously at literary precociousness as a kid and Ibsen was one of many authors employed in the endeavour. These days I’m often defeated by the text on the reverse of cereal boxes. (Norwegian modernist poet and playwright.)
Kazuo Ishiguro – British Japanese author, nuanced and elegant and note to self: watch The Saddest Music in the World asap.
Iggy Pop – yes son, you do know him; Lust for Life in Trainspotting. Also, fabulousness …
Imogen Heap – think sadder less mainstream Sarah McLachlan; pretty breakup songs. Too many at once would rot your teeth though.
INXS – for a brief shining moment in the 90s, I managed to get my hair to look like Michael Hutchence’s when it was long.
Ian McKellen – blah blah Gandalf blah Magneto blah blah blah Patrick Stewart bromance and all manner of other wonderful things, but have I bugged you to play George Ezra – Listen to the Man yet (I’ve already posted it twice on this blog)?Even if it was a shit song, Sir Ian would make it awesome.
Intelligence – not just of the intellectual variety.
Instinct – my overactive amygdala has saved my ass more than once.
Infinity – I find it soothing to feel small against the gloriously unexplored vastness of time and space.
Inspiration – not a thing I rely on or particularly believe in, but woahhhhh those manic rhymes and poems and songs that emerge unbidden … one just has to remember to put them safely away and look with a critical eye once the mania has left the building. A poem written in one take is usually a shitty poem.
Ideas – my very most favourite of all the ideas I’ve ever brained, is a nightclub called Club Seals. I’ve been pondering it for decades and one time back in the day on Amazon Mechanical Turk, I sold it for one of your American cents. I’m not even kidding. Have pointless, unoriginal idea, exchange for money, nothing changes in the world except that I have two things to snigger about instead of one. *airpunch!*
Ideals – I have old fashioned utopian ones, that I like very much, but have absolutely no faith in. Well they’re called ideals, not realistic possibilities.
Imagination – a safe escape from all sorts of things. Narnia with pillowcase banners, a South African courtyard that turned into a Roman ones and a myriad of daydreams in classrooms.
Here is a truly beautiful poem by a Ukrainian poet whose first name starts with the letter i.
On your back I trace the letter A (Ilya Kutik)
On your back I trace the letter A.
You must sense how my hand’s caress
travels first along your spine,
from the uppermost vertabrae
to your waist, and then inclines
back again–in languid absent-mindedness
until that moment when the lines all intersect
and I create, with one sharp motion,
a cross of the type that in pre-Christian sects
evoked a). insanity and b). commotion.
Yes, I know that the body’s a locked up safe
and I search for its armor’s alphabetical chink
in all epithelial directions– for the link of links
and the pick of picks–from O to A.
For it’s just this way, twixt A and O
that one finds myth, just as Io
escaped from the fly. He first chased her
straight and then they backtracked
until, having endured manifold tortures
She completed a circle with him …
I trace that circle with my nail on your back
til O thrObs hOt Over all yOur limbs.
Like a blind safecracker in a bank vault
in the darkness I gathered all my strength
to the very ends of my fingers and at length
like Braille, the first martyr to touch, straining
I saw that the five points, whose strings
I draw are still one less than his gestalt.1
I’m surrounded by some overmuch
silly, long and sticky spider web of touch.
I fully recognize the figures,
but fail to see how my five fingers
can direct it–since it seems its elevated ridges
comprise a tongue that needs six digits.
I do not know which of this language’s signs
will make your skin resonate down the spine,
but I’m ready to try the whole alphabet
through all its permutations until I elicit
that festive plangent aria: O-o!.. A-a!
All of your I words were awesome. Have you read Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day? It’s slow to start but it develops into something rather good, and follows a similar structure to Ibsen’s A Doll’s House (but in prose).
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Hello and thanks a million :) yes, I’ve read and seen Remains of the Day, I’d never thought of the Ibsen comparison, but you’re right.
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Do you have any other blogs besides the one your username links to?
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That poem. I want the letter A traced on my back immediately ;)
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Beautiful poem huh? It stopped me in my tracks when I found it yesterday.
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Yes, just gorgeous.
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I am jealous of the intense depth of your brain! It’s beautiful and mine is superficial. You bitch ❤️
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I agree with intense, but depth. ..I know a little about a lot but the reverse is not true. I’ve always thought of it as a dragonfly.
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I think of my mania as a dragonfly, the depression as a turtle. I love dragonflies. I don’t know a lot about anything, unless it’s love, and there I am the Grand Master
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T-Shirt Hell sells a shirt with the clubbing seals on it, I found it funny. Not because harming animals is funny, but seals dancing under a disco ball…That’s hysterical. Or I am just easily entertained.
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I am equally entertained by visual puns and so forth. Love ’em.
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You have more depth than the deepest part of the ocean.
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I am the Marianas Trench.
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I do like your collections of “I”‘s. The Iggy Pop photos are awesome. What a survivor. I had quite the crush on him as a teenager (in the 70s), saw him live in the early 80s (and he was quite a mess at the time) and it’s amazing to see how he has endured.
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It must have been fabulous to see him live!
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It was in a small venue at my university and he was in pretty rough shape. Not as wretched as John Cale (Velvet Underground) when I saw him in a seedy hotel bar around the same time. My luck to see so many of my heroes at their low points!
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Interesting…..I’m sure you could get an article or short story out of it.
I was at this The Velvet Underground, Heroin, at Glastonbury 1993.: https://youtu.be/v0-05rzyuaY
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So cool. Something to tell stranger’s grandchildren. Actually my kids would be impressed, both are VU fans (I raised ’em well).
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Glastonbury that year had a truly awesome lineup and tbh I remember very little about most of it.
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No, still getting to grips with all this blogging whatnot. I’m thinking about starting a second one for creative writing, but at the moment I’m still relatively new to all this stuff. I do have a Youtube channel which does a different set of things: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCz7Chl9KmVgWdkrd-FykHjQ/videos
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Arrgh see that was supposed to be a reply to your second reply to my first comment *le fail*
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Loved the song with McKellan and Ezra. Made me smile. The poem was pretty exotic too. Thank you. xxx
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Pretty much genius-level thoughts afoot!
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ideas & ideals – suddenly a lofty post
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Duuuuude I am about as lofty as a guinea pig with no legs, in a valley :)
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