Last Week Today

Latest Seven Yrs Later (7YL) piece: Sticky. The preciousness of poetry amuses me, but I like seeing seisms in 100 words or less. Poetry trusts your interpretations. Neon explanations on the notes are here as well.

7YL Theme Song

As Needed by Beirut (Spotify / YouTube)

7YL Theme Media

“A Poem for What You Learn Alone” from Poetry Unbound (Spotify / On Being site)

I could listen to Pádraig Ó Tuama all day and nine minutes.

Notable Note

“SPY TERMS” As I dislodged the last 2013 Notes to Self, the journals keep going, engrossed and curious. Do I want to write a 007 novel? No. But if you set the canary trap, I’ll tune into your numbers station.

Honorable Tweet

Seven Yrs Ago is still thinking:

Good $hit

How to Make a Newspaper Blackout Poem by Austin Kleon

Newspaper Blackout was my gateway to Austin Kleon. There’s more accessible brilliance of his to share, but for now, find a poem in a mag or paper. Even if you’re not a writer, it’s a pleasurable game to make.

Not wanting to Sharpie my biography, I used sticky notes, a box cutter, a pen, and a lantern, so I could trace around the words. I later trimmed the notes, so there would be less color overlap when I’d scan.

One More Thing

If I haven’t raved about High Maintenance over the phone with you, it’s been my crosscut of company this past year. The indomitable Dominique Christina gives a sermon in S2 E5 “Scromple” and it’s worth a watch and a second watch on HBO. At 07:34, sit back in your pew.

“And I know, daggers have been at your throats. To the ones who were never told that they are worthy of every good and perfect thing ‘cause you didn’t pray to the God you grew up with, or fall in love with the boy you were supposed to, or in my case, any boy at all.

All of you with your faith, that all of this has been a rehearsal, some strange experiment in suffering, listen: you are not charity cases. Not victims. Not history’s bad luck accidents. So to the trying ones, the deliberate ones, the holding-on ones, just praise.

Praise your body in the way you woke up this morning. Praise the miracle and the mess. Praise the language you were born with and the ones you’re learning. Praise the child you were and the adult you are still becoming—praise the becoming. Praise the journey; praise the fight; praise the wherewithal. Praise the riding of wind without asking permission. Praise that there is so much of you left. And praise the otherworldly algorithm that is your heart. Yeah. Especially that. Revolution, is the sound, of your heart, still beating. So praise. Amen.”