11 February 2014

Session Poetry



History 101

I pour another and another
and brood on the bloody brilliance
of mankind

breaking and beating and butchering
his way to the top of the food chain
and then repeat,

but never learning a damn thing
as he looks down the barrel
of another gun

in another time in another place,
perplexed as to how and why he
suffers so.

So I pour another and another
and resolve to never repeat
my mistakes.


            by Brent Warren III

30 January 2014

Short Short Series #2



Drifting

by Brent Warren III



“It won’t be long now,” said Jimmy.  If the currents held, they’d hit the Keys before they ran out of water.  The food was gone.  He wasn’t sure if Freddy had much time.

                He took a small sip of water and then held the jug to Freddy’s lips.  “Take a sip, buddy,” he said.  Freddy moaned and tried to sip, but his lips barely parted and most of the water ran down his chin.

                Jimmy set the jug down and then looked at Freddy’s gut shot.  It was beginning to fester and stink.  “It’s not bad,” he lied.  Freddy rolled his head to the right, resting it on the gunwale. “We’ll be hitting the Keys soon, Freddy, and they’ll find us.  Just hang in there a little longer.  Okay?”  Freddy didn’t move.

                Jimmy took the strip of shirt he had used as a bandage and rinsed it over the side of the dingy.  He squeezed it as dry as he could and then laid it back over the wound. Freddy moaned, lifted his head, and the let it fall again.  “Sorry, buddy.  I know the salt stings, but salt water’s good for wounds,” Jimmy said.

                He sat back, across from Freddy, and sighed.  Looking out, he saw nothing but green and blue and wisps of white.  It was midday he figured.  They’d been on the water for two days and had two, maybe three, left if their luck held out.  Freddy looked badly.

                “I wonder if the Cap’n made it?” he asked.  He looked at Freddy for a sign but he got nothing.  “Where do you suppose those bastards come from anyway?  They just appeared outta the dark and started shootin.  They didn’t even board us or take the boat.  Couldna been the coast guard.  It makes no damn sense,” he said, twisting a piece of loose twine around his finger.  He threw it down.  “Hell, it don’t matter anyhow now,” he said.

                He looked at Freddy, looked for the slow rise and fall of his chest.  He didn’t see it.

                “Damn!” he said.

                He bent over Freddy’s body and listened.  Nothing.  He searched Freddy’s pockets, retrieving his wallet, a flask, and a few coins.  He flipped through the wallet and pulled out a picture of a young woman and a little boy.  “I let Sally know what happened,” he said.

                He put the wallet in his pocket and buttoned it and then took a swig from the flask before he put it in his back pocket.  He pulled Freddy’s body up against the gunwale and then grabbed his legs and lifted the body up and over.  The dead weight splashed as the dingy pulled away.

                Jimmy sat back against the gunwale and watched the horizon as he drifted northeast.  Maybe I’ll make it in less than two days now, he thought.

                 

Short Short Series #1

Larry


by Brent Warren III


He woke up depressed.  He needed to get out of bed, but he had no desire.  He hit the snooze button and stared at the ceiling until the alarm rang again.  “Alright, damn it!” he said, hitting the clock.
He pulled himself up, and swung his legs out of the bed.  Slouching over his beer belly, he dragged his hands through his thinning white hair and then sighed.  He stood and walked to his bathroom.  After taking his daily shit, he stood before the mirror.
           His jowls, he noticed, had started to sag more.  The bags under his eyes had grown noticeably darker and pronounced as he slept less and less each year.  “This fucking blows,” he said to himself.  He scratched his ass and then went back to his bedroom.
           He grabbed a clean white polo from his chest drawer and then put on the pants he’d worn the last three days.  He cinched the belt tight and buckled it, letting the excess end flop loose because the leather loop and fallen off long ago.  He didn’t care.  And then, just because he liked them, he put on his red suspenders.  He’d been told by his coworker, a young girl who spent most of her time perusing fashion magazines, that he shouldn’t wear the suspenders because they accentuated his beer belly. “It’s unattractive,” she said.
           “Fuck you,” he replied.
           Dressed, he ate his dry toast and drank his reheated coffee from the day before.  He read a tattered copy of Bukowski, one of many he’d borrowed from the bookstore.  That was the only real perk of working there as far as he was concerned.
           He finished his breakfast, cleaned the dishes, and then left for work.
Sitting in his old 98’ Oldsmobile in the bookstore parking lot, he stared at the front door, watching his young coworker dance to the tune from her little, white earbuds.  He sighed.
           What’s the point, he thought.  A seventy-year-old man still working as a clerk in a bookstore.  What a fucking joke, he thought.
           He started the car, hesitated, and said, “Fuck it!”
           He pulled out of the parking lot, turned left, and drove to the nearest bar.

03 January 2014

To Grill or Not to Grill

For most, meats and grills go hand in hand.  There is no other way to cook a tender filet mignon, a thick pork chop, or a juicy t-bone, right?  Not entirely.  While there are many reasons to grill meats (the smokey flavor and the aesthetics of the criss-cross pattern come to mind), it is not the only choice.  
    Like most male Americans, my introduction to cooking consisted of a steak and a grill.  And for years, including my college days spent working as a line cook under trained chefs in restaurants, that was the only way I thought proper to cook a steak. Then one day, long after I’d left the restaurant business, I received as a gift James Peterson’s Essentials of Cooking and my perception of cooking meats--as well as cooking in general--changed forever.
Peterson’s book, as the title implies, teaches cooking techniques that all trained chefs know, but that many home cooks may not.  From it I learned such techniques as how to make a bouquet garni, how to truss a bird, how to make chicken stock, and how to make mayonnaise--simple techniques that ironically I never learned while working as a line cook.  The technique that I have employed countless times since I learned to do it properly is sautéing meat, my preferred method these days for cooking steaks or pork tenderloin medallions.
So what makes me a convert?  There are several factors: sautéing is not dependent on the weather; it provides an even temperature across the surface of the meat; it quickly sears the meat, thereby trapping the juices in the meat rather than letting them fall into the grill; and, finally, the remaining drippings in the pan serve as a base for a variety of quick and easy sauces.
The process is simple. Start by sprinkling the steaks or pork tenderloin (cut into one and half inch medallions) with kosher salt and pepper and let them warm up to room temperature.  Heat a tablespoon or two of olive oil in a heavy bottomed, stainless steel sauté pan over moderately high heat until the oil begins to shimmer.  Add the meat and brown on both sides--don’t flip it repeatedly; let it cook a few minutes on one side, and then flip and cook until done.  Once it is cooked to your liking, remove and keep warm--I usually put the meat on a plate and cover it loosely with foil.  Now here is the fun part: the sauce.  I tend to favor a wine sauce (red for meats and white for chicken).  If there is an excess of fat in the pan, pour that out.  Then, if desired, add diced onions, garlic, or mushrooms for added flavor and sauté them until they’re soft.  Next, deglaze the pan with a ¼ to ½ cup of wine--make sure the wine or whatever liquid you use is at least room temperature or warmer, otherwise you risk warping your pan--and scrape up all the drippings stuck to the pan.  Let the wine simmer down till only a little remains and then add ¾ to 1 cup of chicken or beef broth and simmer until it becomes syrupy.  Finally, add a little cold butter to thicken the sauce, season to taste, and pour over the meat.
            So the next time the weather is bad, you run out of gas or charcoal, or you just feel like trying something besides grilling, sauté.

28 November 2013

Session Poetry

Watching the fly on the toilet bowl
drinking like a disciple of Bacchus,
I suddenly understood 
the subtleties of life.

  --Brent Warren III

30 June 2012

John AdamsJohn Adams by David McCullough

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Occasionally, I like to take a break from fiction and read about real people, often historic figures who contributed to significant events in history, especially those involving the U.S.--in other words, the Founding Fathers.  However, I sometimes find such biographies dull and have, at least in one case, quit reading half way through the book.  Such is not the case with David McCullough's John Adams.

McCullough masterfully brings to life a man who was highly intelligent and independent, at times vain and temperamental, always loving and loyal to friends and family, and dedicated to the founding of the United States of America. Of course, McCullough covers all the major political events of Adams's life, but he also makes Adams human, depicting his close relationship to his wife, Abigail, and his children as well as his long and sometimes tumultuous friendship with Thomas Jefferson.

Overall, McCullough has written a biography that reads like a novel. Engaging and informative, John Adams is worth reading if you have an interest in understanding one of the greatest men in the history of the United States.



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29 June 2012

The Yiddish Policemen's UnionThe Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I don't typically go for the plot driven who-done-it novels, preferring character driven stories instead.  That said, I really enjoyed Michael Chabon's The Yiddish Policemen's Union , a clever, gritty detective story with substance.  Meyer Landsman, an archetypal down-in-the-dumps detective, in the course of a homicide investigation, uncovers a much larger conspiracy.  More importantly, he uncovers his purpose and his place in the world. This novel is well worth the time for anyone who likes a good mystery combined with memorable characters. 



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When the Light GoesWhen the Light Goes by Larry McMurtry

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


When the Light Goes, by Larry McMurtry, appears to be the last in a series of novels (The Last Picture Show, Texasville, and Duane's Depressed) that follows the often hilarious and sometimes heartbreaking life of Duane Moore, a West Texas oilman. In this latest novel, we find Duane returning to his hometown, Thalia, from a trip to Egypt.  Once home, Duane finds that in the short time that he was gone, much has changed.  As the novel continues, Duane grapples with the fact that most of his family and friends have either died or moved elsewhere, leaving him in a town that doesn't feel much like home anymore.  To add to his dilemma, Duane also discovers that he has a serious health issue.  However, Duane meets a young woman, Anne Cameron, who rekindles his dwindling sexual desires and his interest in life, ultimately helping him decide where he belongs. 

Though not as developed as, and more erotic than, the other novels in this series, When the Light Goes is classic McMurtry, complete with quirky characters, humor, and real emotion. Assuming this is the last in the series, it is a fitting conclusion to the life of Duane Moore.   



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The Hotel New HampshireThe Hotel New Hampshire by John Irving

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Wow! Every family has an oddball or two that are often avoided and only seen at the occasional family reunion, but the Berry family is nothing but oddballs, which makes for a hilarious yet tragic story. John Irving's The Hotel New Hampshire tells the story of the five Berry children as they follow their father, an irrepressible dreamer, through one failed hotel adventure after another. Along the way, they have to deal with rape, incest, and death as well as terrorists, prostitutes, a few bears, and a dog named Sorrow.

Using tight, direct, and often poetic prose, Irving tells the story through the point of view of John Berry, the middle son. John admits that he is the "least opinionated" of his siblings and so it is up to him to "set the record straight, or nearly straight" about his family's story, but he then admits that his view of the story, at least the parts he was present for, are "colored by the fact that they were up-and-down times, about which [he has] up-and-down opinions." Though John's point of view may be questionable at times, it has a nostalgic quality that is endearing, evoking sympathy from readers as he tells about and deals with his family's tragedies.

In addition to dealing with serious subjects honestly, Irving inserts a bit of metafiction via Lilly Berry (John's younger sister) as John recalls Lilly's struggles with her perceived inadequacies as a writer and the effects of critical reviews.  Irving also manages to poke fun at literature professors and "a certain illiterate kind of college student" who are "relieved to discover that absolute obscurity [is] not only publishable but seemingly identified with seriousness," and that the "obvious failure to be clear [in writing] confirms that what any fool knows is a vice can be rearranged, by art, to resemble a virtue."

Altogether, The Hotel New Hampshire is a beautifully written novel filled with unforgettable characters and ridiculous situations that will make readers laugh and cry--or at least chuckle and then choke up--within the span of a page. 





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09 December 2008

For My Daughter, Lilly

I began to write a poem
About blooms and daily treasures,
Using big devices borrowed
from Penguin’s Big Book of Literary Terms,
Like metaphors as simile sounding imagery.
I would show my sagacity with such saccharine sentiment:
Lilly, my love, your face is as a rose,
A beautiful bloom that brings to me
Daily treasures of the heart annually.
But that would be sequacious, you see.
The simple truth, less fluffy, is better:
Thank you for being, for you are the best part of me.

16 October 2007

Red Flannel Umbrella: a found poem

I’m cool like wool in Florida:
top down, fifty-five,
freezing hot, that’s me.
Euphoria! Nothing can diminish
my Euphoria, my glee.
I’m free
like cotton in a pool of sun.

13 June 2006

Is English Dead?

Every time I moan my way through a stack of poorly punctuated papers, I have to wonder if grammar and punctuation, the nuts and bolts of the English language, are dead. In this world of e-mail, instant messaging, text messaging, and, yes, blogging, punctuation no longer seems to have a place in writing. There is a generation of students who have grown up on the world wide web that do not know how to properly use a semicolon, a comma, or, believe it or not, a period. Sadly, they don't care because they don't see the necessity of proper punctuation. This lack of concern for proper punctuation in our society is just an indicator of a bigger problem: a growing number of people can no longer communicate clearly in writing.

Now, I'll grant that where punctuation is concerned I am what Lynne Truss, the author of Eat, Shoots and Leaves, refers to as a "stickler." For example, it bothers me when, at the end of a sentence, people put the period outside closing quotation marks (as they do in Britain) rather than inside closing quotation marks (as we do in the United States). It bothers me when people use semicolons in places that only commas should go. The most inexcusable errors—at least on my list of punctuation problems—are the wide variety of ways in which the ellipsis is misused: as an em dash because the writer doesn't know how to use an em dash to set off a long appositive or an abrupt thought; as a comma because the writer wants a more dramatic pause; or, as a random pause to indicate to the reader that the writer is not sure what to write next and needs a moment to think—on paper! Those who do know the ellipsis is used to indicate that words have been omitted from a quotation or to indicate a pause in speech, often don't format it correctly (in MLA formatting, it is a series of three or four spaced dots, not an indeterminate number of consecutive periods). Then again, I am a stickler.
For most students, these are errors that do not matter. Why should they? These errors are minor when compared to the magnitude of bad spelling and the abuse of acronyms and shorthand that can be seen on the internet. Look at customer reviews for any product on the internet, and numerous mistakes will be found. Look at memos, e-mails, and instant messages that circulate daily in businesses throughout the United States and be amazed that these businesses are able to function at all.
These same mistakes are present in the English classrooms of today. When I ask my students to write in complete sentences, I often get gems like these: "Cause Chaucer was the first major english poet."; "Shakespeare would be nothing w/o Petrach b/c he was the first to write sonnets about love & faith.” The students protest every time I take two points off their grades for these mistakes. When I hand back papers with little red circles dotting the pages, invariably, the question I get is this: "Mr. Warren, why do we have to write out the words?" I have to remind them that they are in an English class and that I expect them to use complete words, complete sentences, and proper punctuation. I have to explain to them that they are not text-messaging a friend.
Another issue that is muddling the writing of many in this country is the inability—or the disinclination—to revise, edit, and proofread their own work. In our instant gratification society, many people fail to look twice at their work, sending out poorly written e-mails and blogs for all the world to see. Once these hastily crafted pieces leave the desktops of these would-be-Shakespeares, they are permanent reminders to the world that say, "I can't write well!"
This problem, too, can be seen in English classrooms. It seems that no matter how many times I stress the need for revising, editing, and proofreading, my students can't be bothered with writing the same paper twice. Even if they do, they don't know the difference between the three processes. They don't understand that revising a paper means looking critically at and determining if what they've written is worth writing, and if so, have they expressed their thoughts as clearly as possible? They don't understand that editing is a process of looking for the best word choices, cutting out needless or repetitious words, or rearranging sentences for clarity. After the first two steps of the process have been completed, proofreading is simply checking over the final paper for errors in punctuation or spelling before turning it in; this is just one more concept they don't get. No, they understand revising, editing, and proofreading to mean correcting, without any curiosity as to why they are making the corrections, whatever part of their paper I have marked with my bloody red pen. Always in a hurry, they want to be done with the assignment, so they can move on to the next one.
I wish that I could take all of the blame for my students' poor writing abilities, but lunchtime conversation amongst my colleagues often turns to a discussion of the dismal state of student writing. At teacher conferences, I hear other teachers from across the country complain about the same problems. The consensus is that our current government's education policy is forcing school districts to teach to a standardized test. Yes, we do have to have some uniform way to measure student progress; most teachers will agree with that.
However, what most English teachers that I have talked to disagree with are the skills emphasized on the writing portions of these standardized tests. In Texas, the TAKS test emphasizes "voice" in student writing. Essay readers are encouraged to overlook grammar and punctuation errors unless they are so egregious that they hinder any understanding of the essay. Instead, readers are encouraged to award points for voice. What good is voice if it isn't clearly understandable through the proper use of conventions? That is the sole purpose of grammar and punctuation: to make a writer's thoughts clear and easy to follow. Unfortunately, many English teachers feel pressured to teach only the skills emphasized on the test, and by doing so, let the little things like spelling, punctuation, and sentence structure fall by the wayside on the path to voice. To make matters worse, some school districts are now using monetary incentives to garner better results from teachers. According to Ralph Blumenthal, in his New York Times article on 13 January 2006, the Houston ISD school board actually passed a merit pay raise program that ties teachers' pay raises directly to their students' test scores. In recent years, similar programs have been implemented in Denver, New York, and Kentucky.
If we fail to rigorously correct errors in conventions, if we accept the shortcuts that have become so prevalent in our language, if we continue to publish the unrevised ramblings of our inner-souls, and if we continue to teach to tests that emphasize voice rather than the actual skills necessary to write clearly, then English as we know it will die or morph into something ugly and unrecognizable. I know—English is a living language that has been evolving since its origins in Anglo-Saxon times, but do we really want a language that is composed solely of acronyms and symbols? Do we really want a language that is devoid of standard conventions that help us clearly communicate in writing? Do we really want a language in which the ellipsis has replaced all other punctuation? If so, we are emphasizing what we don't say, rather than what we do.

A thanks goes to LaDonna Rushing for editing and contributing to this article.