Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

i was 17, he was cajun, and had green eyes, he played music, he was 29, i fell in love, he was a drummer
i had to cut the ties and run
i went to new york, and i met an italian man, he took me to meet his parents in italy, i married him and had beautiful sons. i was left with 85 in laws while he galvanted around the world, with me or without me-then there was the third, he was a surfer man, cabana boy, master of all magic, yet he had a few too many, hits of whatever-
i went to oregon, found a evil jungle prince, he tried to hurt me, made me wince- strength is a gift even when it is crazy
i guess now after all these stories, i have a right to be a little hazy
when it comes to love
i was never lazy

Some life some love. Good capture.

merci

creativesoul wrote:merci

and "mercy"

wierdest thing happened
have not seen him since
79
i am already flustered
like a child bride
he called
like a teenager getting her braces off
i am already kissing
whatever

which "him"...or all of them?

I was thinking of writing some poetry performance pieces, skits for 3-4 actors who would recite the verses and act out the scene on stage. These would be humorous 5-minute skits and I was going to call it "All My Husbands" (a spoof on the daytime soap opera, "All My Children").

I had one skit written but have lost it. Ahhh well, another project waits in the wings, like many I've started and not completed.

Anyway, your poem reminded me of it. Thank you for that.

And thanks for posting the piece. It's an interesting story and I particularly liked the ending lines:

i have a right to be a little hazy
when it comes to love
i was never lazy

Me too.

i love that idea, but as you know i have some input- i do not know if you ever read "dona flor and her two husbands" but it is particularly aromatic= highly recommend it- however- these lovely ideas are purely adult like in concept-just another flavor to fare-buenios dias amiga

If I was a woman I would have wanted Albert Camus for a husband

The Ideal Husband
September 26, 1963Susan Sontag.

I speak of course, of Albert Camus, the ideal husband of contemporary letters. Being a contemporary, he had to traffic in the madmen’s themes: suicide, affectlessness, guilt, absolute terror. But he does so with such an air of reasonableness, mesure, effortlessness, gracious impersonality, as to place him apart from the others. Starting from the premises of a popular nihilism, he moves the reader—solely by the power of his own tranquil voice and tone—to humanist and humanitarian conclusions in no way entailed by his premises. This illogical leaping of the abyss to nihilism is the gift for which readers are grateful to Camus. This is why he evoked feelings or real affection on the part of his readers. Kafka arouses pity and terror, Joyce admiration, Proust and Gide respect, but no modern writer that I can think of, except Camus, has aroused love. His death in 1960 was felt as a personal loss by the whole literate world.

http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archive ... l-husband/

I wander how many of us could say their life went according to plan....or they even had a plan.....it feels to me being blown by the wind like a seedpod....I always like your revelations c-soul.....honest and touchable....

and thanx truck for the Camus link...it was interesting stuff...reread, The Stranger and the Myth of Sisyphus last year with a study group and discussed them...it was pretty deep......I always thought I was the perfect husband, but there is some controversy about that.....

i think that being a husband or a wife- brings some strange dynamic with it that somehow makes us who we are not- to be a husband- does one have to abandon all that they love? to be a wife, do i have to love what someone else loves?
contractual- i do this- you do that
or partnership seems to carry the flavor of rare friendship and spices of life filled passion...camus was a great husband- and i a great wife- but society is as it would seem "revaluating" our values and roles... and perhaps later we might eveolve to loving communities as well....

she was 92 when she crossed
she said she would play cards or dance with all four
of her husbands
i think i might wanna do a little more then dance granny
these bones are already feeling him
he may be far way
but i know he is coming

trained by very fine husbands in the delights of living
she will make a fine mate

it doesn't matter, those others, after all
the sky miles and the love shack out back,
thank you to the man
of English-Scots-Choctaw clan that fucked me over
and left a daughter he waited to see
almost 40 years later, now that he's old
and has one foot in the grave but hovers around
in a cherry-red scooter,
and please, I never mind the fucking Spanish one with
green eyes that lied, but his beautiful zarzuelas that
sang of the truth and danced apricot tangos of wine and roses,
and white roses that died in shame, even if our son just married
and the bride wore an aircast on a rainy first ofc October day,
shall I tell the story of the one I never fucked but in my mind
his poetry did,
or the other who died in Munich where I was born, so I can
make fucking love here and now, with the man who is like no
other,
still,
I forget some others who filled in the spaces between, like
flowers that came up now and then, barely remembered scents
and colours that fell by and by.




~A

p.s. Thanks for your four husbands tale of a woman's inspiration

p.p.s. This past Easter I had dinner over my daughter's with Barry.
The joke is the man who fucked me over (her father) and the fucking
man (son's father) and the man I'm fucking all in the same room.

The Chinese curse is true: may you have an interesting life.

i get that one- i recently had to sit at a table with a guy that raped me in front of my children- cute- amazing i didnt scream and act out really-his wife looks good- i knew her- they had three kids- i guess the fact is- i do not like being told what to do
when they dont do it very well- life- love etc
and when they play out control and power- i just get sour
so i suppose the best part of all- is that i stand tall- and i do what is best for me- and this is how i live in harmony- the heart heals- and the last of all was not my doll
even if i wanted it to be