Thursday, January 29, 2009

john updike, rip; the blush of 1st dawn creeps, the morning dew, it chills , &

gud morgen. wie gehts? bleh. it seems so uncivilized to be up every day before the sun, like right now. shouldn't a person wait? after you? el sol: the king: seems almost impertinent to go 1st - but obviously i'm being ridiculous & also very bourgeoisie cause how many people have no choice?? so i justify since at this life-stage i am privileged & therefore can say i just don't like it... john updike died this wk. in undergrad days (ha - so snobby, that sounds) i loved updike, which was weird bc he wrote mostly so specifically about the frustrations of the american male. maybe it's cause i've always thought i was sposed to be male, but that 2nd chromosome just kept growing (boy, it IS early) (tho i think many females feel that way here & there, since the society's built for the view of & to appease the male)... i loved updike's specificity, the way he caught the ugliness & shimmer of everyday life. i guess that's that.
good gravy; hurry up, toast.
what the heck am i doing on here? waiting for my toast, drinking coffee, standing up thinking then i'll type less that way, typing at this ridiculous, cumbersome, child-sized keyboard, trying not to feel sick... needed to check if the fellows could do a gig (they didn't call back; story of my life) (well, phil did, good old philbert) & must save time! must always save time! oh, i hate those metaphors; makes going thru life (there's another one) seem like empty commerce. stressful!
- well, at top are lyrics for a song i wrote but i pulled from esnips bc it's for a male to sing. so of course i tried to sing it, but there's no amount of smoking or forced coughing that can bring my vox down to the appropriate register. so it's gone. but i was pleased w/the weird little storyline of this one, called "when they find me," kind of a gothic unrequited love thingy set in a delano grape vineyard, like maybe even the one that used to be in front of our grandparents' house, & the pleasing thought that a story CAN be told in a 2-min song. i've known it, just never w/story so fully in my head. since then, there've been a few more, & maybe the band will learn some of them, but if we don't, i have them, & they keep coming, like little gifts (tho sometimes it's a necktie or a lump of coal).
toast's ready. i hope my skull & sinuses stop burning.

2 comments:

Linda said...

I am only slightly embarrassed to admit that I have not read any John Updike novel. I am one of the most illiterate literates I know.

A long philosophical discussion could be had on the concept of saving time. :)

Word Ver: ineds

Def: the small balls of gook in the corner of your eyes upon awakening.

Usage: She rubbed the ineds from her eyes with the backs of hands and stared in the mirror.

jseals822 said...

Love your typing in the early morning Jenny. What ever is in my head is what I type out! So refreshing. Sorry for the late response, just got on today.