Romanian literature

Learn flying blind: The in-between world of the between creatures

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Being experienced but not an expert is like living in the in-between world forever as a “between creature”. Sure, maybe I am an “expert” compared to some, but not objectively. I think of this a lot when I think about poetry. Going through the whole world’s poetry and really feeling it, feeling that I have a grasp on it, spending more than 20 years immersing myself in it as an amateur aficionado, I have a grasp on it that no layperson would have but will never have the kind of in-depth knowledge to be more than a dabbling dilettante or to become a professional academic/expert in this area. Every field has a technical or depth threshold that I have never had much desire to cross. It is like being a journeyman forever.

Much of life is lived in this “in-between” place. Never fully in one place or another. Never fully done with the past, always looking toward the future – so never fully in the present.

Naturally this too reminds me of a poem.

Evolution
–Marin Sorescu (Romania)
It is time to learn from the bats
The between-creatures
Who can home in the dark.

Learn flying blind.
Dispense with the sun.
The future is dark.

In Between Days – The Cure

Mistaking Sad for Mad: Desperado

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If someone repeats the same kind of non-action annoyance almost every day and knows it is an “apologizable offense” – why is it that they keep repeating it? Habit? Don’t know they are doing it? Don’t recognize how damaging it is?

Disappointment is a funny thing – you can build up hopes for something without even realizing you have created or are relying on expectations. Even when you know better than to expect anything. And it can be for the littlest, funniest stuff. The hurt one feels after any of these slights/disappointments is often misinterpreted as anger. But anger and hurt are different aspects of the same kind of emotion.

Life (and the interactions I have in it) seems to be on an unending loop of “all talk, no action” incursions. “The enemy is illiterate.”

Vowel
–Nina Cassian (Romania)

A clean vowel
in my morning
Latin pronunciation
in the murmur of confused time.
With rational syllables
I’m trying to clear the occult mind
and promiscuous violence.
My linguistic protest
has no power.
The enemy is illiterate.

There come moments when poetry has all the perfect lines to describe what I feel.

My annoyance at someone deciding that playing The Eagles at a housewarming party is welcoming and relaxing is at an all-time high. “Desperado” – Don Henley – kiss my ass. I never had such vitriolic hatred for The Eagles in my early life, but sometime in junior high, spending weekends with my then-best friend Terra, we wanted MTV to show things we actually liked, but the channel tended to repeat Don Henley Unplugged – a lot. It seemed every time we turned on the TV, we turned it on right when there was a close-up of Henley’s aged face, singing with his eyes closed, straining to release his solo version of “Desperado” – much to our teenage dismay.

As if I needed more reasons and reminders as to why I steer clear of parties.

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, people.

“You’re a hard one, but I know that you got your reasons/these things that are pleasin’ you, can hurt you somehow.”