Small Acts of Bravery

I feel kind of out of my groove.  I saw this “how record players work” special on TV and it’s pretty simple.  You have something that can vibrate, you vibrate it with the sound of your voice, an arm attached to the vibrating surface etches those vibrations into the wax, and when played back, an arm attached to a vibrating surface is run through those grooves.

It’s pretty cool.  It makes sense.  And yet it seems like it shouldn’t work.

Anyway, I’m not talking about that magic that is technology, except to say that no arm attached to any vibrating surface is properly running through my grooves.

Oh, ha, yes, even when I’m trying to be all profound, I sound like I’m writing cheesy soft-core porn for lonely music geeks.

But really, this whole post was supposed to be about Ryan’s post in which he talks a little about the aesthetics of his poetry and then posts a poem of his.  Is it just me or does Ryan seem like the kind of guy who could pull off a fedora?

Anyway, I think that’s brave.  I guess that’s why I have a soft spot for poets.  I think there’s something really brave about writing poetry.  You open up your soul, scrape some stuff off, and then try to get at it precisely through words.

If you asked me to describe my boob freckle, I could tell you all about it, how it looks like a tiny drop of chocolate on a milk-white surface.  And that’s nice.  Or I could tell you how it always tickles me when I’m with someone and I say, “look, there’s my boob freckle” and they lean down and put their lips right on it.  Or I could say that most of the boob freckle’s charm is reputation and not inherent beauty.  I could go on, is what I’m saying.  I could say everything I had to say about it and some of it would be good and some not.

But, if you said, describe your boob freckle, but don’t mention the boob freckle and do it in a haiku, already I have to make some deliberate decisions in a way I’m not used to and what I cut away is as crucial as what I leave behind.

I think, though, that I’d go like this:

A milk white surface

A tiny dot of chocolate

Are you thirsty yet?

I like that.

But I’m just kidding around.  The stakes aren’t so high for me.  But Ryan is working on writing in a way that really does something for him.  His willingness to share it takes real guts.