Monthly Archives: November 2010
Nothing Comes Easy
I’m tripping on the wires
Always falling on the black notes
Maybe I create the hazards
Punching holes in every life boat
And it’s so hard
To get so far
Why does nothing come easy?
Nothing comes easy
Above: Duke Special at Hotel Cafe 11.21.10
Posted in Bands, Duke Special, LA, Pic of the Day, Quotes
Tagged Duke Special, Hotel Cafe, I Never Thought This Day Would Come, Nothing Comes Easy
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Persimmons
By: Li-Young Lee
In sixth grade Mrs. Walker
slapped the back of my head
and made me stand in the corner
for not knowing the difference
between persimmon and precision.
How to choose
…
persimmons. This is precision.
Ripe ones are soft and brown-spotted.
Sniff the bottoms. The sweet one
will be fragrant. How to eat:
put the knife away, lay down newspaper.
Peel the skin tenderly, not to tear the meat.
Chew the skin, suck it,
and swallow. Now, eat
the meat of the fruit,
so sweet,
all of it, to the heart.
…
Donna undresses, her stomach is white.
In the yard, dewy and shivering
with crickets, we lie naked,
face-up, face-down.
I teach her Chinese.
Crickets: chiu chiu. Dew: I’ve forgotten.
Naked: I’ve forgotten.
Ni, wo: you and me.
I part her legs,
remember to tell her
she is beautiful as the moon.
…
Other words
that got me into trouble were
fight and fright, wren and yarn.
Fight was what I did when I was frightened,
Fright was what I felt when I was fighting.
Wrens are small, plain birds,
yarn is what one knits with.
Wrens are soft as yarn.
My mother made birds out of yarn.
I loved to watch her tie the stuff;
a bird, a rabbit, a wee man.
…
Mrs. Walker brought a persimmon to class
and cut it up
so everyone could taste
a Chinese apple. Knowing
it wasn’t ripe or sweet, I didn’t eat
but watched the other faces.
…
My mother said every persimmon has a sun
inside, something golden, glowing,
warm as my face.
…
Once, in the cellar, I found two wrapped in newspaper,
forgotten and not yet ripe.
I took them and set both on my bedroom windowsill,
where each morning a cardinal
sang, The sun, the sun.
…
Finally understanding
he was going blind,
my father sat up all one night
waiting for a song, a ghost.
I gave him the persimmons,
swelled, heavy as sadness,
and sweet as love.
…
This year, in the muddy lighting
of my parents’ cellar, I rummage, looking
for something I lost.
My father sits on the tired, wooden stairs,
black cane between his knees,
hand over hand, gripping the handle.
He’s so happy that I’ve come home.
I ask how his eyes are, a stupid question.
All gone, he answers.
…
Under some blankets, I find a box.
Inside the box I find three scrolls.
I sit beside him and untie
three paintings by my father:
Hibiscus leaf and a white flower.
Two cats preening.
Two persimmons, so full they want to drop from the cloth.
…
He raises both hands to touch the cloth,
asks, Which is this?
…
This is persimmons, Father.
…
Oh, the feel of the wolftail on the silk,
the strength, the tense
precision in the wrist.
I painted them hundreds of times
eyes closed. These I painted blind.
Some things never leave a person:
scent of the hair of one you love,
the texture of persimmons,
in your palm, the ripe weight.
Posted in Food, Pic of the Day, Quotes
Tagged Li-Young Lee, Persimmons, Poem, poetry
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UME
I recently discovered the Austin trio, UME, at last week’s Rumble, and man, did these two guys and a gal bring it. As the guitarist from The Smiles (who were also on the evening’s bill and were really fun) said to me during the show, “This chick is rocking my face off!” And it was true. Lauren Langner Larson, a cute petite little thing off stage, transformed into a guitar goddess in the spotlight, shredding her ax whilst belting out her vocals. Definitely not to be missed if you get the chance.
Posted in Bands, LA, Pic of the Day
Tagged 3 of Clubs, Future Sounds, The Rumble, The Smiles, Three of Clubs, UME
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Reflections on The Morning Drive In
“The new American finds his challenge and his love in the traffic-choked streets, skies nested in smog, choking with the acids of industry, the screech of rubber and houses leashed in against one another while the town lets wither a time and die.”
- John Steinbeck
Posted in LA, Landscapes, Pic of the Day, Quotes
Tagged 405, John Steinbeck, LA, Los Angeles, Pollution, Sunrise, Traffic
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