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First day back at work, and it feels good to be productive again. I've spent too many days just sitting and sleeping and not moving. My brain
feels like it's a functioning part of me again, awake once more after a long state of dormancy. Work is good.
This morning, Justin picked up a new calendar for his desk and Ben decided he was going to get one as well. I never really knew calendars go down
in price after the first, but then again... I don't buy calendars all that often. This is one really great thing about working inside a
psuedo-mall: if you decide you want to go shopping, you just walk down the hall. It's surprisingly convenient.
While we were browsing, I wandered over to the "Blank Notebooks" section, and found this little gem:
It's a moleskine. This thing is compact, feels great in the hand, and the thing elastic band
seals the pages tightly together. I'm not sure what the right word is here. Slick? Streamlined? Holding it, the damn thing feels efficient
somehow.
Initially, I was going to hold off buying it and come back later. But after a brief debate, I succombed and made the impulsse buy. I've been giddy
about this thing all day. I don't know if I'm just digging the physical notebook itself, or the notion of all those blank pages one day being
filled. Maybe it's both.
So far, I haven't written in it. I don't know if I'll actually try to compose poems in this thing, or if I'll use it as a grab bag of notes and
sketches and ideas.
As I've been writing this section, I've been picking it up, flipping it in my hand, and dusting it off. This thing is just neat.
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Last night, I was struggling to get to sleep. I've had my futon opened since the illness and moved all my blankets/pillows out to the living room. So
far, I've been lazy and haven't moved all my crap back into the bedroom. I've gotten accustomed to leaving the television on (setting it to shut off
after 90 minutes), and falling asleep in its friendly glow.
My sleeping schedule has been so spotty lately, it took serious effort to even get tired by 1:00 AM. Next thing I know, I'm up until close to 2:00 AM,
entranced by a PBS documentary on Rod Serling. I used to
fall asleep to the television a lot in grad school, and I've woken up on the couch in the wee hours to find some kick-ass program playing on
PBS. Hell, I guess I have a tendency to do
this sort of thing.
I should take a moment here to mention I'm a big fan of the Twilight Zone. While they're not all, each and every one, good... the ones that endure are
absolutely fantastic. All time favorite? I'd have to vote for Burgess Meredith and Time Enough At Last. I love the pacing of the stories, of how
they walk you down a familiar path, only to show you a slightly skewed version of what you thought was the world. Sometimes for good, sometimes for ill.
In a strange way, I see similarities between the arc of these episodes and how I go about structuring my poems. Early on in my writing, I'd go for the
knockout punch at the end, the overkill surprise ending (think something along the lines of ... but it was all a dream!). Today, I know better (or
at least I tell myself that I know better). The ending for me no longer has to work as a 180° turn, or pulling the carpet from beneath your feet. It's
not the trick ending I'm looking for anymore: it's a twist, it's an angled view. By the poem's end, there has to be some reaching, some movement toward... I'm not sure. The world? Humanity? Something bigger than the mere subject of its lines.
And yes, I'd say that the strongest episodes of the Twilight Zone do just that: when they're working right, they're allegories. When you watch episodes
written by Serling, you can see how deeply he cares about other people, about us. There's an incredibly strong moral and ethical streak throughout much
of his work: the line between right and wrong is very clear, and the consequences are dire. I like Rod Serling, and I like his work. He's probably
influenced me more than I'm aware.
Let me tell you a story. When I was an undergrad, I held a job at the Indiana
University Main Library, working as a library page. I shelved books up in the stacks (11 or 12 floors worth of books). I walked around, pushing
an endless supply of books and making sure everything was in its rightful, alpha numerical place.
It was during this time that I came across Marc Scott Zicree's most excellent Twilight Zone Companion.
In addition to introducing and summarizing each season, Zicree summarizes each and every episode, averaging about 2-3 pages in length. I'm not sure how
I found this book, but you bet your ass I didn't let it get out of my sight before I was done reading it. After every shift, I hid it; before every shift, I
made sure to place it on my cart as I made my rounds. Every so often, I'd pause in my shelving and blow through an episode or five. I forget exactly how long
it took me to finish, but I'm sure it wasn't very long.
Fast forward a few years: in Columbus, while I was attending grad school, I came across this copy (above) at a Half Priced bookstore. Eight bucks. Well worth
every penny. I urge you: if you liked the Twilight Zone, and can remember more than 2 episodes... get yourself a copy of this book. Impressive research. Solid
writing. And a fascinating subject. |
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