Monday morning, having trouble pulling the trigger on these poems I’m writing. Writing poetry seems to be this process of note-taking and meditating. Scouring Thesauri and humming while contemplating how to translate the music, images, and feelings onto the page. What was it the poet Frank Stanford said? “Poetry is like a beautiful, sick dog that shits all over the house.”
This weekend we took Chocolate Charlie to Prospect Park. They have off-leash hours there from 7-9 am every morning. Thanks to FIDO they also have a dog beach near the 9th Street entrance where the dogs can go swimming. Even if you don’t have a dog, off-leash time is a sight to see. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been bummed out and gone up to the park and just watched the dogs playing and felt better afterwards. Its pretty amazing that in this city, which can feel so industrial and cold at times, there’s this nature party happening every morning and most people don’t even know!
Charlie was so happy, he writhed around in the wet grass and greeted all the other dogs and people. The dogs’ happiness is contagious. They’ve taught me so much about staying in the moment, and not being so trapped in my own head that I miss what’s happening around me. Happiness really is about gratitude for the little things, like chocolate! Speaking of which we went to Jacques Torres this weekend and I got frozen wicked (spicy) hot chocolate. Dennis got one of their ice cream sandwiches which I have to say might be the best ice cream sandwich I’ve ever had. You can pick various flavors of ice cream (strawberry is good) sandwiched between two huge chocolate chip cookies. Jacques Torres is a religion. There should be churches and shrines to him (made of chocolate that we can eat!).
We also saw Quentin Tarantino’s new movie Inglorious Basterds. I like Tarantino but his penchant for gratuitous adolescent violence gets to me at times. I mean the multiple shots of scalping, was that really necessary? Gore fans will be happy. The carving of Nazi symbols into foreheads? Quentin must be reading a bit too much Harry Potter. But as always Tarantino delivered an entertaining movie. My favorite commentary on Tarantino came from my dad. I had him watch Reservoir Dogs with me and he fell asleep. He said, “At the beginning of the movie the guy was bleeding, I fall asleep and I wake up at the end and the guy is still bleeding!” My dad is so funny.
I must leave you, the dogs beckon!