Klosterman Crit

Killing Yourself to Live is a misleading title for Klosterman's masterpiece. While I originally had hoped for a more open-ended philosophy of journey, what was delivered was more of a stream-of-consciousness diary. While Klosterman has a gift for rants, and a savant-like talent for bending music to suit each thought and scenario, ultimately, the reader must find charm in his snarky narcissism and be a music lover as well in order to enjoy the ride. I'd only recommend this book to someone who's a big fan of back story, glimpsing other's thoughts and is familiar with a large depth & breadth of music. Otherwise, I'm afraid Klosterman's dorky appeal just doesn't stretch far enough to cover the title or 200+ pages of randomness.

though 'Klosterman' sounds like a medical condition, I'm still glad to have experienced it

Rarely do I have the patience for such a narcissistic, self-aggrandizing ass, but Chuck Klosterman somehow made it work in his favor. Not only did I enjoy the book, but found myself torturing my partner by reading aloud some of my favorite(his) rants. His particular slant on Led Zeppelin was amazing (even though it excluded women experiencing Led Zep in the same psycho-sexual-cool-rocking way as men/boys do) "We all still meet at the same vortex: For whatever the reason, there is a point in the male maturation process when the music of Led Zeppelin sounds like the perfect actualization of the perfectly cool you." (p.200) His reasoning behind hailing the Beatles, Stones and Zeppelin as the ultimate triumvirate is remarkable, not only for it's simple truth but for his dissection of why it is so. Klosterman's frustration/fascination with Montana also resonated with me. I've been there; it is huge, it is mysterious, it is in some ways ridiculous...much like Klosterman's ego.

the gift of a Mother

After 42 years of wondering and 14 years of searching, I've finally found the woman who gave birth to me. A close friend delivered my letter and my mother called 48 hours later. Two weeks ago, I met her for the first time. I was halfway up the walk to her door when she rushed out and we gently collided in a hug that felt like no other. She asked me to take off my sunglasses. I did, and when we looked into each others eyes, I could feel both our souls shift. Breathlessly and with tears welling, she simply said "yeah." We've talked or emailed every day since. Life seems brighter, all happiness amplified. My life has changed profoundly and will never be the same.

An life-long quest fulfilled, a new journey begun.

thoughts on Basho

I found the Basho piece profoundly moving in its simplicity and eloquence. Travels in haiku, and the celebration of life and nature intertwined. Our modern world knows no such appreciation. We walk little, drive more and now do so with GPS on our dashboards. We don't get lost - we don't "have time" to notice a piece of butterfly wing or a bee's hesitation to leave a flower. The idea of wandering with purpose and truly open heart and eyes is quite foreign to our modern experiences. So I loved this piece - loved it for taking me on a journey to a simpler, yet in some ways, more profound time.

Post Secret Image & Thoughts

This is profoundly moving. Two strangers connect through a common joy or sorrow neither knew they shared until the author/artist was bold enough to ask and tell someone random - on a bus. How much do we really know about each other? How much difference might it make if each of us smiled at a stranger? Rather than looking straight ahead or burying our face in a newspaper while on public transit or public spaces, what if we looked into the eyes of others? What if we really listened when we ask someone how they're doing? I think these small gestures have huge transformative power. This "Post Secret" is a beautiful reminder to remain open, do talk with strangers and practice random acts of kindness.

Poetry in Motion

An Afternoon Elegy in Free-form

I lay in bed listening
to the water run
through the pipes
between the walls
while you showered.

After a silence,
I strode out of the bedroom
and was stopped in my tracks
at the sight of you.
On the Salvation Army gold couch
white towel, whiter skin, hair slicked
and your face
which did not turn
arrested my step

The unnatural aura
lit that corner
from the palette of sofa and skin
And your face
Post-coital, post-crying
was focused on something
beyond my realm

reluctantly I withdrew
to the shower
I brought my towel
and your face

And when I emerged
the change in you
was complete.

Impromptu Haiku

Frost ices the window
Warm breath rises in steam -exhale.
Enjoy this moment.