Birdchick posted a version of this, which comes from Faux Real Tho: collect the first sentence of the first entry of each month of one's blog.
January: Welcome.
February: Miles: T-Rex was a bad guy.
March: I got Geoffrey Hill's "Without Title" from the Poetry Book Society right before I went to the United States ten days ago, and finished it on my trip.
April: Two poems by my friend A. E. Stallings were on Poetry Daily on Monday, April 11.
May: The April 17, 2006, issue of The New Yorker contains a wonderful coincidence in its profiles of Maurice Sendak and Pete Seeger
June: Since class did not take place on Tuesday, May 23 (as I was on paternity leave after Sara's birth), the votes for week 7 (Tuesday, May 16, to Monday, May 22) and week 8 (Tuesday, May 23, and Monday, May 29) both took place in class on Tuesday morning, May 30.
July: The vote for the 12th and final week of the Daily Poem Project (poems on Poetry Daily from June 20, 2006, to June 26, 2006) took place on Tuesday morning, June 27.
August: I have been meaning to make more comments about verse novels since March, when I bought quite a few new ones while traveling in the US.
September: A student of mine sent me a link to the Wikipedia page for the Flying Spaghetti Monster, a parody of Intelligent Design that has taken on a life of its own: the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
October: In another entry from the category of misheard lyrics, there are these lines from "Touch of Grey"
November: Miles and I don't play cribbage any more since we invented doublage, which is kind of "double cribbage."
December: On a September evening in 1987, I watched the television broadcast of the baseball game when the San Francisco Giants clinched their place in the playoffs.
Showing posts with label Maurice Sendak. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Maurice Sendak. Show all posts
Friday, December 22, 2006
Friday, May 05, 2006
Sendak, Seeger, and the poets
The April 17, 2006, issue of The New Yorker contains a wonderful coincidence in its profiles of Maurice Sendak and Pete Seeger: how both of them had encounters with poets (women, no less), the kind of encounters one tells stories about, as Seeger does in this story from when he was in high school, where he edited the newspaper:
The playwright and poet Edna St. Vincent Millay visited the school to see a production of one of her plays. "They told me that, with my newspaper, I should interview her," Seeger said. "I had never interviewed anyone famous. I didn't know what to ask. Finally I blurted out, 'What do you think of Shakespeare?' I don't remember anything else of the interview."
(Alec Wilkinson, "The Protest Singer: Pete Seeger and American Folk Music," in The New Yorker, April 17, 2006)
Sendak's encounter with a poet came later in life:
He also owns a Charlie Chaplin figure, given to him by the poet Marianne Moore, who was a neighbor of his on West Ninth Street; in the nineteen-seventies, Sendak would visit Moore and read aloud to her.
(Cynthia Zarin, "Not Nice: Maurice Sendak and the Perils of Childhood," in The New Yorker, April 17, 2006)
I find these juxtapositions particularly amusing since Sendak and Seeger were childhood heroes of mine.
(Unfortunately, neither profile is available on-line, so I could not provide links.)
The playwright and poet Edna St. Vincent Millay visited the school to see a production of one of her plays. "They told me that, with my newspaper, I should interview her," Seeger said. "I had never interviewed anyone famous. I didn't know what to ask. Finally I blurted out, 'What do you think of Shakespeare?' I don't remember anything else of the interview."
(Alec Wilkinson, "The Protest Singer: Pete Seeger and American Folk Music," in The New Yorker, April 17, 2006)
Sendak's encounter with a poet came later in life:
He also owns a Charlie Chaplin figure, given to him by the poet Marianne Moore, who was a neighbor of his on West Ninth Street; in the nineteen-seventies, Sendak would visit Moore and read aloud to her.
(Cynthia Zarin, "Not Nice: Maurice Sendak and the Perils of Childhood," in The New Yorker, April 17, 2006)
I find these juxtapositions particularly amusing since Sendak and Seeger were childhood heroes of mine.
(Unfortunately, neither profile is available on-line, so I could not provide links.)
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Luisa says "Nose"
If Luisa says "nose" out of the blue, it means that she wants someone to get a handkerchief and blow her nose (or give her one, so she can do it herself).
The other day, I was home alone with her, and I had to go to the toilet. Seconds after I sat down, she called from her room: "Nose." I called to her and told her to come to where I was and I would give her a piece of toilet paper to wipe her nose. She came running, but when I held out some toilet paper to her, she shook her head, took the toilet paper, and went back to her room. (I had just enough time to notice that her nose was not running.)
I was quickly done on the toilet, and a few moments later I went into her room. She was standing by the couch, holding the toilet paper I had given her, and blowing the nose of the first wild thing in "Where the Wild Things Are," which is a sea monster that is exhaling a whole cloud of vapor (like a whale)!
The other day, I was home alone with her, and I had to go to the toilet. Seconds after I sat down, she called from her room: "Nose." I called to her and told her to come to where I was and I would give her a piece of toilet paper to wipe her nose. She came running, but when I held out some toilet paper to her, she shook her head, took the toilet paper, and went back to her room. (I had just enough time to notice that her nose was not running.)
I was quickly done on the toilet, and a few moments later I went into her room. She was standing by the couch, holding the toilet paper I had given her, and blowing the nose of the first wild thing in "Where the Wild Things Are," which is a sea monster that is exhaling a whole cloud of vapor (like a whale)!
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