Scrutable Poetry Corner: "Ceres"

Here's "Ceres" by Harrison Dowd, from the April 20, 1929 issue of The New Yorker.

I have honestly never seen these "pigeon people," but they appear so often in fiction of all eras that I can only assume they're out there...probably in larger cities.

Little gray woman
Mad as a loon,
Feeding all morning,
All afternoon,

Grain to your pigeons
In your old blue cloak,
How long is it
Since your whole brain broke?

How long ago
Did you first go mad?
Was it drink, or a lover
That you never had?

What day did your mind
In a whir of soft words
Split and scatter
Like scared gray birds?

Harrison Dowd himself -- like many poets from The New Yorker -- has been largely forgotten, but he did write a book that's still remembered: "The Night Air," a "homosexual novel" from the 1950s that sounds pretty interesting. He was apparently a Broadway character actor from the late '20s to the mid '60s.

I guess poetry wasn't his thing.

Today's Pepys Entry

January 1st, 1660:

To-day the King dined at a lord's two doors down from us. Mr. Moore and I went to Mr. Pierce's; in our way seeing the Duke of York bring his Lady to-day to wait upon the Queen, the first time that ever she did since that business; and the Queen is said to receive her now with much respect and love; and there he cast up the fees, and I told the money, by the same token the £100 bag, after I had told it, fell all about the room, and I fear I have lost some of it. Supped with them and Mr. Pierce, the purser, and his wife and mine, where we had a calf's head carboned, but it was raw--we could not eat it--and a good hen. But she is such a slut that I do not love her victualls.

Torchwood Season 2

Yes, okay, my loyalty to Torchwood is mostly because I'm a Doctor Who nerd. SUE ME!

But I also watch the show because its POTENTIAL is so huge. You've got a diverse, quirky cast -- most of whom are amazing actors -- under the guidance of one of the most wonderfully-conceived action heroes in history. Their mandate is open-ended and they have a dedicated pool of creative writers. Their fan base is such that they can hardly do wrong, allowing the show to experiment without fear of losing popularity.

So why did the first season mostly suck? And why did the second season suck even WORSE?

You don't have to be Tosh to figure out the reasons. There are three of them.

First, the budget is simply too low, so when they attempt to pull off Doctor Who-style scenes of mayhem they end up looking like a CGI version of...well, the '80s Doctor Who. I'm thinking mainly of the "space whale" and the "exploding Cardiff" scene, which left me wondering if I'd developed an astigmatism or if it really DID look like crap.

Second, John Barrowman can only play one role well, that of the sexy, flippant, mostly-likeable hero. When forced to branch out -- particularly in the presence of more capable actors like Eve Myles, Burn Gorman, and Naoko Mori -- he's a space whale out of water. When he was forced to cry in the first series he looked like he was taking a dump. I'm pleased to report that he's a better crier in the second series, where instead he looks like a small child about to blubber. I expect this is how Barrowman really cries.

All this would be fine, however, if it weren't for the third and most heinous problem with the series: the producers seem unaware of Barrowman's limitations -- and the obvious strengths of the Torchwood premise -- and therefore constantly shoehorn emotionally over-the-top moments into plots that don't NEED them.

This is (mostly) fine in the new Doctor Who, where the characters and mythology provide plenty of fodder for emotional blowouts. But in Torchwood, putting a requisite ten-minute weepy scene into every episode is like adding emotional depth to a Flash Gordon serial: unnecessary, distracting, and obvious.

So season two's Mostly Random Arc involving Jack's lost brother ("GRAY!!! GRAY!!!") is ridiculous, and just gives the characters yet another opportunity to say "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry."

Try contrasting "Something Borrowed," the only really good episode in the series, with one of the crappy ones like "Meat." In "Something Borrowed," the Torchwood team runs around battling a sexy alien in a ridiculous setting, cracking witty jokes and being self-referential and basically having a good time. Captain Jack gets to strut around and be tough, Gwen gets to be funny, and even Rhys is a welcome (and essential) part of the episode, instead of just saying "Darn it, Gwen, YER NEVER HOOOME!"

But in "Meat" you have an overly-ambitious, budget-free bunch of crap effects, and a pointless subplot about Rhys perhaps being evil (though we know he's not), and a heavy-handed message about...cruelty to animals, or something. You even have the conscious-stricken younger brother shouting "I DIDN'T AGREE TO THIS!" and Rhys complaining that Gwen is (yes) never home, and Jack's first opportunity this season to say (snicker) "I'm sorry..." and then (yes) "...I'm SO SORRY."

"Something Borrowed" knows that Torchwood can just be FUN. "Meat" wants to be relevant and complicated and heart-rending. One passes, one fails. WAKE UP, PRODUCTION TEAM!

Add to this yet another limping climax full of random obstacles (for which each member has a relevant skill) and the main character saying "I forgive you" to the evil mastermind (where have we heard that before, a year ago, in the climax to a show which is an anagram of "Torchwood"?) and you have, essentially, a load of whatever Barrowman was trying to crap out in the first series.

It's not ALL bad. I loved the "Owen's dead" subplot, and the cast reductions in the final episode were brilliantly performed (and tear-jerking, not least because those actors represented 66% of the team's acting talent). And whenever the show DECIDED to be funny, I laughed. And I thought "Maybe they've figured it out...maybe they understand that they should titillate me, and scare me, and make me laugh?"

Then, seconds later, Gwen would start mooning about how Torchwood had hardened her, and Owen was covering up his soft interior by being a brash jerk, and somehow Ianto still had security clearance after sneaking his cyberwoman girlfriend into the Hub. Oh, give me a break.

Today's Pepys Quote

October 13th, 1660:

I went out to Charing Cross, to see Major-General Harrison hanged, drawn, and quartered; which was done there, he looking as cheerful as any man could do in that condition. He was presently cut down, and his head and heart shown to the people, at which there was great shouts of joy. It is said, that he said that he was sure to come shortly at the right hand of Christ to judge them that now had judged him, and that his wife do expect his coming again. Thus it was my chance to see the King beheaded at White Hall, and to see the first blood shed in revenge for the King at Charing Cross. Setting up shelves in my study.

From "The Diary of Samuel Pepys," Everyman's Library.

And This Day

Whooo!

Up, packed, and away to Toronto by 9:30am. Not only have they changed the Greyhound ticket procedure -- requiring you to go outside and buy them from a surly woman wearing wrap-around shades -- but the bus also stops at a giant inflatable bus station near Sportsworld Drive. It's a "Commuter Connection," but it looks like a bouncy castle. Only bus-shaped.

I got the type of seatmate that I usually end up with: the guy who doesn't brush his teeth.

Arrived at Jason & Craig's to gain access to their apartment. The two of them are in the middle of an intensive campaign, and they also have new kittens. Somehow they manage to maintain their composure. I am thrilled that one of the kittens is named "Barrowman," and I bet he's a better actor than his namesake.

In order to let J&C prepare for their first show (of three that day) without the distraction of a visitor, I went for a short downtown Toronto wander. I thrilled myself, walking diagonally across the Yonge/Dundas intersection with the rest of the liberated pedestrians. I bought another book about Objective-C.

Leisurely preparations to attend the last half of the show at Gladaman's; small crowd but fun, and great to see Lady Butterfly with her big pregnant belly. Then a walk back to Zelda's, whose stage and dining room invite a wonderful cabaret atmosphere that I wish I could enjoy more often. In the change room -- which was also the women's bathroom -- a constant stream of mothers came in to change their baby's diapers. "I apologize for what I'm about to unleash," said one as I was touching up my makeup. This was a first.

My numbers went over well, and the crowd was totally into the diversity of the performers. Annie Drogyny showed up, the first time I've seen her in months, and fortunately I was wearing the outfit she made for me. A professional puppeteer gave me tips on how to better handle Schnaaps the Seal: in short, treat him like he's an actual animal, not like he's a mitten on the end of my arm. I thought the mitten-thing was funny, but apparently the animal-thing is even funnier.

A mad-dash rush with Craig back to J&C's house for de-dragging, then a rush to catch the 9:30 bus back home...and the line up was HUGE. Even with a second "backup" bus called to transport the overflow, I still was one of the last ten inside.

But before that, while waiting to get on the bus inside the terminal, an extremely disturbed man put something in his mouth and tried to wash it down with Mountain Dew. After choking it back up again and examining his teeth in the reflective glass, he wandered slowly down the line, bobbing and weaving, and when he passed me I was amazed to see huge gashes on both of his cheeks from his mouth to his ears...like, gashes so wide you could see partway into them. He was removed by security guards shortly afterward.

When I got onto the bus, the guy I sat beside was the guy before whom the disturbed man had staged his performance. This guy in the seat was enormous and daunting, talking on the phone with his girlfriend, saying that the disturbed man had "razors" in his mouth, which he was apparently trying to swallow. We talked a bit and he said that he was absolutely terrified...that after the recent stabbings in Greyhound buses he figured that he'd be the first person to stop the attacks...but when this disturbed man came up to him he just froze.

He wanted to know what was going on in the world. This obviously upset him, and I agree, it was absolutely surreal. I put off giving myself an insulin injection until he'd calmed down a bit. I was afraid he'd take it as an incipient attack and break my neck.

Brief Update

What have I done during my Blogging Holiday?

Well, I've been watching an awful lot of those olde-time English movies I've been curious about. Laurence Olivier's "Richard III" was fun for its hunchbacky-evilness and strange jello walls, whereas "Elizabeth" was most notable for the alien beauty of Cate Blanchett.

I also found that "Elizabeth" had strange Bollywood overtones, which is hardly surprising considering it was Shekhar Kapur's Big Western Hit. But some of us still remember him as the director of one of the greatest movies of all time: "Mr. India." (Click that link to read my review from long ago)

I've been preparing for tomorrow's trip to Toronto so I can perform on the same stage as Morgan James (and wish her well in her campaign for Empress of Toronto, for which she is even better qualified than Dame Sarah Palin). The bus ride will give me plenty of opportunity to read The Diary of Samuel Pepys, which is fascinating in so many ways. He sure liked his blue stockings and his nine pins!

I've been working my butt off. After our washing machine broke because of the uprush of raw sewage, I've been handwashing my clothing in the bathtub.

So yeah, mundane stuff that is too boring to tell anybody about. Which is why I decided not to mention any of it here.

Oops!

Upcoming Show at Zelda's!

I'll be in Toronto for Morgan James' "Pink Flamingo Party" this Sunday at Zelda's, and I'll even get to do a number or two! You should come and say "hi," and also cheer Morgan on in her quest for major Empress-ossity!

It's early too -- 6 to 8pm -- so you can still get to bed on time.

Romans, Saxons, Vikings, Normans...

I've developed a sudden interest in medieval England.

It started with a musty old book about mazes and labyrinths. I didn't care for most of it, but when the author started exploring the strange mysteries of the "Troy Town" turf mazes, I found myself strangely intrigued...but my total lack of knowledge about English monarchs, political development, and county locations made me eager to learn more.

I once had a University professor who told us that we should all read the Bible...not for religious reasons necessarily, but so we'd understand the countless references to it in literature.

Well, I tried to read the Bible once and I never made it past Genesis, but I still appreciate his point. For the same reason I'll never really "get" Shakespeare, or Dickens, or even the development of my own beloved language unless I do a bit of research.

So I bought some Middle English literature. I got a few pages into "Pearl" and two chapters into "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight" before I realized that 14th century alliterative poetry annoys me. It SOUNDS nice, but damned if I'm going to spend more time deciphering it.

Next I bought a Francis Pryor book about Anglo-Saxon archeology, which is terribly written and largely tangential to my interests, but has at least given me insight into the joys of pot shards and sheep rearing.

While I was buying these books I was also picking the brains of various booksellers, asking them for the best introductory sources they had in stock. Mandy at Words Worth Books said "Why don't you rent a movie?" and I was like, "Hey, that's BRILLIANT!"

Now I'm working my way through Monarchy, which raced too quickly through the early kings but has settled down nicely around Henry VIII. I know who Oliver Cromwell was! I understand why the Protestants and Catholics hated each other so much! I know that Normandy was in FRANCE, and not in Norway as I'd always suspected!

Then I re-read "Murder in the Cathedral," which actually makes sense to me now, and re-watched "Becket" just to hammer home the plot. Beautiful movie, really, and a gripping story all around. They don't make them like that anymore, and they certainly don't ACT like that anymore, at least not offstage.

I'm filled with a desire to actually TOUCH one of those ancient buildings, to actually WALK THROUGH something that was built 1300 years ago! Lacking travel funds, however, I'm resorting to "Plan B": watching adaptations of Shakespear's plays, and then reading them to find out if now -- after all this research -- I'll finally be able to finish one.

Anybody have any film recommendations? No modern interpretations please...I don't want to see Macbeth on rollerskates or anything.

Daily Muffy: "Maid of the Mist"

Season six, episode three of The Daily Muffy -- "Maid of the Mist"-- begins tomorrow! A new picture in the journey will appear every day...click here to watch the drama unfold!

Special thanks to Jenn Wilson, not just for taking the pictures but also for driving hours through a torrential downpour. A trouper!

PS: Ever since I started using a new computer -- and a new version of iPhoto -- my Flickr pictures have appeared strangely pixellated. Fortunately, by adding an extra step to the uploading process, this issue appears to be licked. Whew!

Oh, Klaatu!

I've been on a "Klaatu" kick recently. There are certainly worse bands to be obsessed with, but this one is particularly alienating; if you get into them because of the "They're really The Beatles" myth, you'll be disappointed by all the songs that DON'T sound like The Beatles. If you like their debut album you're unlikely to enjoy the follow up, let alone the third.

I grew up with the band so maybe my genre-ideas hadn't hardened yet, but still I really DO love it when a band does something different every time. And I honestly don't understand what ISN'T to love about Klaatu, from their humble beginnings as Toronto session musicians to their quiet, pathetic collapse.

I wanted to post "Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft," but of course the only video version available of the cover by The Carpenters. I love The Carpenters, and I particularly love their spot-on cover of such a bizarre song, but looking at Karen Carpenter makes me feel queasy.

The only REAL Klaatu video that I know of is for "Routine Day," which was incidentally the first song by them I ever heard. Up until now, YouTube's copy of "Routine Day" was terrible, but somebody has finally posted a high-quality version...from The Netherlands.

So here it is in all its glory. Listen to the lyrics. Learn them in Dutch. Pay attention to the many moods the song goes through. Dig that bass. And yes, it really DOES sound like The Beatles.