My Poetry Reading for the Stroll of Poets at the Upper Crust Last Evening

Read seven poems including the following for the first time.

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David Lean: The Master

Happiest alone
in front of
an editing machine
white-gloved
admiring the panoramas
he shot on location.
Blowing up holes
of great rock faces
in A Passage to India,
sweeping the desert
in Lawrence,
waiting for the morning frost
to be just right–embroidering
Zhivago’s window.
Painstaking, patient
and more concerned
about ‘the shot’
and its composition
than his actors’ performances.
Explaining the script
ahead of time
to the cast
leaving nothing left to chance.
‘This is my vision
my script.
Hope you like it.’
Unapologetic.
Supremely confident.
‘Tea anyone?’
Days waiting to shoot
waiting for clouds
to clear or for
a certain mountain look.
‘Could you change
that red blanket
200 yards behind the actors
down the road
for a yellow one?’
Asking for the train front to be
painted red while
thousands of extras
stood idly around.
Knew what he wanted.
Exactly.
Control.
‘Here is how you stand.’
‘Here is how you touch her.’
to Robert Mitchum
no less.
Every detail.
Few today know
or appreciate the beauty
of his bountiful films.
So much beyond
the story or literature
that inspired him.
“I am fascinated by these nuts,”
he once said.
David Lean.
A true gentleman
and deep visual artist.
Tasteful.
Romantic.
Passionate.
All ways.
Life and movies
mattered to him
not the money.
Genius.
Old school.
White gloves
at an editing machine.
Tenderly sensuous.
Would have died
rather than use CGI.
No falseness
in his sensibility,
sublime.

………………..

CGI: computer generated imaging; used obsessively today to nullify the need for location shoots and great numbers of extras; totally unLeanish

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Happiest Day of My Grandson’s Life

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(taken after his family’s yard dug up)

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“With families,

favours are a given. Both ways.” –RD

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Remembering Nice-Guy Arnie

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(the long reach of Arnie’s endorsements: my Sears sandals)

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An uncracked oldie VHS I will open and watch today in memory and appreciation of my favorite golfer of all time.

(obit Arnold Palmer, 87)

He was The Giant of the game despite whatever claims for Jack Nicklaus and Tiger Woods. Arnie was the first superstar golfer via television. He was the golfer everyone wanted to see and be in the late fifties and sixties.

What I liked about him was his sunny, friendly personality, his success despite his unorthodox swing, and the many risks he took to win (c.f. Phil Mickelson and Bubba Watson re. the latter today).

Palmer fueled my interest in golf. When I was 10, I ordered his golf tips series pamphlets from the local newspaper, and my game was subsequently mentored by him. Later, when he became an endorser of a Sears clothing brand, I ‘bought in’ several times because of the name, who he was, and the glorious golf memories he conjured.. Over the years I have owned and worn many Palmer shirts and still have a couple in my closet and a nice pair of sandals. (I think the only other media personality who’s interested me that much long-term has been Mickey Mouse; I’ve bought several watches, 2 Fantasia boxsets and poster.)

The Mouse, of course, never dies, and so, too, will the memory of Arnie and all he did, eventually owning a Golf Channel all his own in later life. Yes, Arnie was a legend, a charming cultural hero, and a great golfer. He went the distance and then some. I will be one of many millions to miss him.

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“Thin as soup made from the carcass of a starving pigeon”:

John Ivison’s description of Trudeau’s speech to the U.N.

Rex Murphy yesterday in National Post: “The address easily could have been passed off as a high-school valedictorian speech: it was trite, without being testy, and full of false equivalencies….Trudeau was unwilling to let go of that rhetorical blanket [diversity] and say a few things about what is really going on in the world….It really is time to stop bragging about how modest we are, as one cannot honestly brag about being modest….Saying the word “diversity” is not like waving a magic wand that somehow rids us of all tribulation and want. Nor is it, by any test the only metric for a healthy and admirable society.”

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Perspective: What Did One Expect?

He or she was mortal after all like everyone and everything.
And although he or she is gone, that person had a lot of good days, moments of being, pleasure, connectedness, laughs, and triumphs. In that, perspective on all his/her and all our mortalities. It is and was their presence, innocence, basic goodness, humor, character, talents, and imagination that will and would be missed.

“Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” –John Donne, Devotions, XVII

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My Afternoon with Richard

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(photo signed for my daughter and her companion–“Are those your kids?” he asked)

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(signed Criterion DVD–the ultimate version of Shawn’s play)

There are very few people I would leave home for these days, braving the crowds of major comic book convention at Northlands no less. I would have had no other reason to go.
But there he was pictured in the Journal this morning; I was totally unaware that he was going to be in the city today signing autographs at the convention.

Wallace Shaun, 72 and more than intact in his 5-footishness–one of my surviving cultural heroes: a very funny man, a delightful comic, a fine character actor, and one of the top U.S. playwrights still writing these days; he has a new play in rehearsals in New York.

As I told him today when we talked for a few uninterrupted minutes, my daughter and I have been big fans since 1991, when we first saw My Dinner with Andre, a bona-fide classic that he and Andre Gregory should have had AA nominations for. I told him that I’d even used the movie in my gr. 12 Academic Challenge class and that some of the students quite enjoyed it, which made him smile. (He is a very friendly, personable chap.)

I also asked about Andre Gregory, who is not working with him in his current NY play, but who is likewise hale, hearty, and active, working on a book and doing artwork. He marvelled at his old friend’s energy and creativity.

I gave him a list of favorite quotations from Andre, which he appreciated, and told him to take care and he said “Go well’ in that unmistakable voice. What a slice my afternoon with Wally was!

The movie quotations I gave Mr. Shawn:

“I mean, really, we’re just going around all day like unconscious machines, and meanwhile there’s all this rage and worry and uneasiness just building up and building up inside us.”

“Because somehow in our social existence we’re only allowed to express our feelings weirdly and indirectly. If you express them directly, everyone goes crazy.”

“Everything passes in a kind of trance.”

“…one of the reasons that we don’t know what’s going on is that when we’re there at one of these parties we’re all too busy performing. We’re concentrating on playing our own roles and giving a good performance, so we can’t perceive what’s going on around us.”

“And so everyone acts as if they know exactly how they ought to conduct themselves at every single moment, and they all seem totally self-confident. Of course, privately, people are very mixed up about themselves, you know, and don’t know what they should be doing in their lives, and they’re reading all these self-help books–”

“You know, we do live in ludicrous ignorance of each other….But we really don’t dare to ask each other.”

“We just put no value at all on perceiving reality.”

“Our minds are just focused on these goals and plans, which in themselves are not reality….They’re part of a dream life.”

“And if you’re just operating by habit, then you’re not really living. I mean, you know, in Sanskrit, the root of the verb “to be” is the same as “to grow” or “to make grow”.

“If you’re just eating out of habit, you don’t taste the food, and you’re not in touch with the reality of what’s happening to you; you’re in a dream world again.”

“Because we don’t see the world. We don’t see ourselves. We don’t see how our actions affect other people.”

“But has it ever occurred to you, Wally, that the process which creates this boredom that we see in the world now may very well be a self-perpetuating unconscious form of brainwashing created by a world totalitarian government based on money?…that somebody who’s bored is asleep? And somebody who’s asleep will not say no?”

“You see, I keep thinking that we need a new language, a language of the heart…some kind of language between people that is a new kind of poetry, that is the poetry of the dancing bee, that tells us where the honey is.”

“You see, Wally, the trouble with always being active and doing things is that it’s quite possible to do all sorts of things and at the same time be completely dead inside.”

“Because I do believe that if you’re just living mechanically, then you have to change your life.”

“I just had to put myself into a kind of training program to learn how to be a human being.”

“[I had to] cut out all the noise around me and stop performing for a few moments and just listen to what was inside me.”

“…or maybe what we’re really talking afraid of is thinking about a kind of existence that we’ve lost, which if were to remember would make us give up everything.”

“I think it’s that moment of contact with another person. That’s what scares us. That moment of being face to face with another person.”

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A Veritable Edmonton Landmark Establishment

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(#6 on the pizza list–there’s no other pepperoni, mushrooms, and green peppers in town that can top Astro’s version–their cheese is always deliciously thick)

Astro’s Pizza, 10038-167 St. (just south of Stony Plain Rd. across from the old Centennial Mall).
A half-century old; I’ve been going there since 1971, when it was originally next to B & B Bowling downtown. These days, it is a tradition once a year to cross town to have lunch there and have one of their totally unique, yummy, loaded pizzas. A nice family business and a major fan base to boot. *I have never tasted another pizza as unique and remarkable as Astro’s. Lunch, which starts at 11, is a good time to drop by.

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Living Life to the Fullest

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(Across the River and Into the Trees, Waterton by RD)

has long been an automatic for me anyway. None of this might be here later today sort of world view. Opportunities, in particular, are often one-time and transitory. As in Frankl: Which even of limited possibilities or choices does one wish to activate, bring into being? (Which is the essence of creativity and an autonomous, self-determined life.)
No, it’s always been clear how to act when decision-times arrive or when choices need to be made. I have enough empathy and imagination (not necessarily the reason) to make the right decision and choice for myself. To thine own self be true; which is what this blog is usually about. Life is and remains largely about what feels right. (Which is both challenge and solution enough)
And no, one can’t decide for others or even do for others if they don’t wish or choose the same. Each to his own, as they used to say. And all the while brilliant, glorious, exciting possibilities exist every day. Just takes imagination and will to realize any of these. And going with the feeling of the moment or heart.

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Annual Fall Pilgrimmage to The Mac for dinner in Confederation Lounge and a walk in the beautiful garden behind the hotel.

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(Smudge, hotel dog, removed in the evening after a busy day; house in lobby)

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(the lobby from Confederation Lounge)

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(walking off patio down to garden)

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(Low Level bridge and Muttart pyramids from the main viewpoint)

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(Mac has added more chairs and long grasses this year)

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(patio and garden lights come on at dusk)

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