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Oh dear. Well, at least I get to sleep with Lex for a little while. Heh.
Which Smallville Chick Are You?
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Which Smallville Chick Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Okay, so, yeah, it's late. Have some Frank O'Hara:
Poem
He can rest. He has blessed him and hurt him
exactly. They start violent under his held smile,
so shy in evil, winningly frank about the bridge
he blew into a snow of subway straps, honestly
confused at the boy's ankle found in his pocket,
his eyes in front of the bed like a green book bag,
sagging helplessly toward the doomed man
who would fill them and whom they untidily contained.
Sweetly he has walked, slender, called down to him
the bungling snow which, on his saffron forehead
under streetlamps, speaks the atonality of thorns.
He has been, once or twice, the true lip on newspaper
behind glass on the muddy feathers, has been called
"Europa's Messenger" and again "Fart in the Hurricane";
So his accomplishments have not been sculpture.
When he has been most rapid with desire the wind
has lifted him like a puppet's jock strap,
the clamored light against his flesh like flags.
Then his pupils narrow to a pinpoint and he dives
into the surf pounding in his throat, his very pestilence.
Oh linen threshold of the Orient whose bamboo smiles
open always onto nipples and come up with hairs,
where is thy encompassing vista of dwarfs and spines
green with becoming lax and wens and nervous wines?
Press me to thy multicolored maggots, for I seize
upon the clapping altitudes, and go blind and white.
Poem
He can rest. He has blessed him and hurt him
exactly. They start violent under his held smile,
so shy in evil, winningly frank about the bridge
he blew into a snow of subway straps, honestly
confused at the boy's ankle found in his pocket,
his eyes in front of the bed like a green book bag,
sagging helplessly toward the doomed man
who would fill them and whom they untidily contained.
Sweetly he has walked, slender, called down to him
the bungling snow which, on his saffron forehead
under streetlamps, speaks the atonality of thorns.
He has been, once or twice, the true lip on newspaper
behind glass on the muddy feathers, has been called
"Europa's Messenger" and again "Fart in the Hurricane";
So his accomplishments have not been sculpture.
When he has been most rapid with desire the wind
has lifted him like a puppet's jock strap,
the clamored light against his flesh like flags.
Then his pupils narrow to a pinpoint and he dives
into the surf pounding in his throat, his very pestilence.
Oh linen threshold of the Orient whose bamboo smiles
open always onto nipples and come up with hairs,
where is thy encompassing vista of dwarfs and spines
green with becoming lax and wens and nervous wines?
Press me to thy multicolored maggots, for I seize
upon the clapping altitudes, and go blind and white.
God, that's a dark poem. I read it knowing certain biographical details about O'Hara: a WWII participant, a big shot in the art world, a gay man. I see all that in the poem, though I hate to use the details as a cheat. Then the rhythms move it just so. And it feels good to read aloud. Amazing choices -- check out the way incongruous words sit next to each other within the lines (no really, do that), and then the way incongruous ideas abut from line to line and stanza to stanza. It's wonderful. Again, it's dark. But there's humor and desire too. I don't think I want to know if I'm reading this all wrong.
And then, when I don my CLexian goggles, I see lots of the apocalyptic futurefic in the fandom. You know the ones.
And then, when I don my CLexian goggles, I see lots of the apocalyptic futurefic in the fandom. You know the ones.
Reading it one more time to check what I just wrote, and I left out the gruesome and pathetic here. This poem contains SO much.
Oh, wow. Click my "friends" link above for much better entries. BIG heads up. You'll find "Spike's Big Smallville Location Set Adventure" which chronicles her day of watching Smallville filming. Lots of accounts of what the actors do between takes. Wow. Wow. Wow.
More browsing in journals from the "friends" link above:
I'm obviously coming out of my own head. It's good to see other people in the world again. *g* I think I got WAY too caught up in writing this week.
See Hope's essay on the author w/in the work. Wonderfully insightful. I'm holding back on agreeing 100% because of what that would say about my choices as a writer, BUT, I'm also not disagreeing. Go read it. Here's the last sentence as a teaser:
"Literary rubbernecking. It's not just for Shakespeare anymore."
I'm obviously coming out of my own head. It's good to see other people in the world again. *g* I think I got WAY too caught up in writing this week.
See Hope's essay on the author w/in the work. Wonderfully insightful. I'm holding back on agreeing 100% because of what that would say about my choices as a writer, BUT, I'm also not disagreeing. Go read it. Here's the last sentence as a teaser:
"Literary rubbernecking. It's not just for Shakespeare anymore."
Ooh. I'm not a Lana fan AT ALL, but I like the Lana/Lex story I just read in the Wild Coyote digest. It's called "Close Quarters," and here's the website where you can find the whole story. This Lana sounds like the one in the show, but I actually LIKE her, because you get to see her thought process. She makes much more sense this way. And I can see Lex falling for THIS Lana. It's sweet, and it's strange too, because it has all the elements of a romance novel, but w/out the cheese. Nice balancing act. I don't know. It might not be for everyone, but I feel like I'm in recovery from the week. I need sweetness and light.
http://www.number14.org/precious/smallville.php
http://www.number14.org/precious/smallville.php
.