1. I know you are still harping on my inclusion of my name. It was a fixed image I pulled out from among the many now unknown images since my computer crashed. I created it in May and have still not given it to the woman about whom it was written.

    I kind of like the statement: “You are still he who wrote this.” But am I? I think I have changed, never to find hope in the truth of my innocence. I read a post the other day about a teacher who asked her class what she could do to help her students learn better and one wrote that she could teach naked. And sure it was offensive and juvenile, but I’ve been thinking about it and wrote a page and a half of retort. I have always been interested in why men rape and so forth. I tend to be masochistic and quiet in my suffering, while other men take their failure out on women, either by reverse psychology at best or raping them at worst. It is completely heinous of men not to take responsibility for themselves, but as you remember in McLuhan’s video interview, self-expression is violent.

    A man attracted to a woman, a teacher, whom he cannot approach because it may affect his grade, it may show him to be a teacher’s pet, etc, this event of his or even her saying he or she could learn better if the teacher were naked sent the teacher into a tirade about how hard she worked to become knowledgable enough to teach at that level and yet she was only seen as a sex object.

    I begged to differ that the event was not about her accomplishments but about her body and the juvenile mind, which is not too far from the truth.

    Anyway, that’s a whole ball of wax, but the statement too (“You are still he who wrote this.”) speaks of the writing process and the writer, who tells the truth and then actually moves on, where someone not telling the truth is condemned to repeat themselves, because a writer, a good writer, is constantly trying to say exactly what they want to say and when they do, they are set free as in a karmic release, never having to relive that lesson.

    I am glad you liked the image overlay, it is from a photo shoot I did with a model. It has a lot to do with the covered woman in parts where we are occupying lands. Relationships are about power and innocence and guilt.

    I like the language too, where that line about carrying cups to men is about service, menial jobs, the nature of male and female relationships in those countries we occupy and in our own country. A person I know from Iran says: “Don’t trust women,” but I tell him he, or men in general, cannot be trusted because we, like the teacher, project our concerns, where the other party is thinking about something unrelated. Men, who say such things about not being able to trust women are projecting their own capacity for infidelity and certainly both genders can backslide in their commitments.

    I am very glad you like this poem. I read it to the Iranian friend tonight and he found it to be beautiful. I also read the poem about Tanner and I think I need to add more “Tanner said”s.

    Thank you for writing. I enjoy your perspective and appreciation.

      • I know you get everything and I smile when I see your avatar. I am trying to figure out how to respond to a piece that I think I mentioned to you the other day about the naked teacher. I have made an entire second response and I have let them rest to see if I can then make another pass and put something down that is worthy of the initiator’s post. What you say is remembered. Always, thank you.

      • “Let them rest…? Instead of snapping away feverishly to photograph the moment of your psychosomatic reaction?”

        When you write this way I stop and ask myself what is she saying? I assume you know who I am and I want to say that this is what women are: Always a few feet above the ground of my comprehension as it is like an insult but really just a request for a little smart retort and I sit here beaten by the abuse of the service industry and having worked since yesterday basically at 4PM (3 hours of sleeps) and you press this little mark into the air, and here it is 97 degrees F and I put the car on Cruise Control and got home only because it is a straight line for about 15 miles. I am looking down at my pool, which is a cool turquoise, and I begin to analyze what I may have said and what you just said in case I said something I didn’t want to say.

        “Them” are the various versions of my response to a story that is very important to me. I am referring to you and your advice to let written works take a break from our feverish minds.

        And here, I am snapping away feverishly with your words in front of me, like a puzzle. I try to photograph the moment, but even in it’s seeming simplicity, the words become tentacles. The “condition” [I have is] caused or exasperated by a mental factor such as internal conflict or stress” associated with the uncertainty of what you meant/implied, but I am always like this because I am not the brainiac that you are. It is so easy for you to spar and I am just staring at you as the ball bearing at the tip keeps plunging into my vest. And for this I thank WordPress. I am like this in public. I think about things sometimes for so long that the entire day has gone by and I am still standing there. This is why I am single. The women I date are checking for a pulse, waving their hands in the air to see if I am there.

        But, yes, that is it exactly. I am a psychosomatic reactionary. Internal conflict or stress reveals my fragile being. And I keep making promises to myself that I will remain cool under pressure, and of course I break those promises within moments of making them.

        I have the two reactions to the Naked Teacher. I reread them amid the stupor of my fatigue and I dare nothing at this point but to crawl toward the bedroom as my eyes have fallen.

      • Speaking of rest, why do you force yourself conscious against the most pressing need of the moment?

        ” am referring to you and your advice to let written works take a break from our feverish minds.”

        I know. That’s what I was alluding to. In light of your most vehement arguing against it.

      • “Speaking of rest, why do you force yourself conscious against the most pressing need of the moment?” Because, this stuff is what I live for and I can sleep later, and what you do with words fills my heart with joy.

        “I know. That’s what I was alluding to. In light of your most vehement arguing against it.” I am always half-kidding. Some of us sit in the sand box just to see the people we think are amazing.

  2. Thank you so much. I don’t get much feedback from my artwork because most of it is in my house or on my computer. I used to do graphic design for the San Francisco Opera and I was a photo student at University. I’ve done some books, but not much response to them generally.

    • Hey Spring Flowerchild, you are a woman, what do you think of my allusions to the understanding of women as a whole toward the male gaze? Is that awareness liberating or intrusive, or something else entirely? Does is vary given the observer?

      You are welcome for my following one of your blogs. Thank you for posting.

  3. I’ve just read all the comments here and I admit my incapacity to understand thoroughly what you all were discussing. Therefore, I’ll simply tell you what I saw in your poem and the reaction it produced in me when I first read it:

    Very musical poem. The loser marvels at a beautiful woman who also seems to know everything: “she knows every thought, intention…” She seems to be HOPE, however the truth is breaking the morning and finally comes darkness which produces a feeling of SADNESS in me, as a reader. Once more, is this the impossibility of a love relalionship? When I read the title of the poem, just the word “loser”, made me think it is such a negative word in America being the opposite of someone who makes career, money and has a beautiful woman who loves him basically for what he has, perhaps even more than for what that person is. At this I can only react with feelings of ANGER and REBELLION. However, I completely ignore if this was the intention you pursued when you wrote the poem.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s