The crass but comforting practical acceptance slip

Last night I broke my rule against watching reality shows, to catch the parting moments of this "average Joe" series. I've missed the prior two series of this series, noting only with interest the news accounts that the women who get to pick between sincere, warm-hearted, kind "average Joes" and smarmy, hot hunks both times managed to choke out to the Average Joe "you're such a NICE GUY!" and then pick the superficial, hot hunk. I hope you'll forgive me, though, from refraining from a long elucidation of my personal distaste that Adam, supposedly the sensible, sincere average Joe, when faced with the choice between the "high fashion, we have a strong physical attraction, I love the night life" rather superficial woman and the attractive, simply dressed, sincere "I want to have his children and then watch him coach them in little league" woman, picks the Ms. High Fashion. Did you ever notice that on reality shows, "high fashion" seems to be mostly about wearing too much mascara--not the cool, kitschy punky/fun kind of mascara, but the "I-don't-know-any-better-ain't-I-hot-baby" trapped-in-a-cheap-ice-machine-disco form of too much mascara. How DOES Kylie pull it off anyway? On the other hand, my personal preference, Ms. "I'm so normal I'm dating on network TV but I really am a family gal" kept saying, morosely, "I was here for the RIGHT reasons". The viewer, apparently, is to infer that the "normal" way to find a father for one's children is under the glare of reality TV camera lights. Love hurts, oooh,oooh, love hurts.

I remember, now, why I have not watched a reality show since MTV's "real life" featured the guy from Oklahoma with the cowboy hat, unless you count that MTV program "The Blame Game", where I always admired the "legal skills" of the female faux lawyer who had..., uh, who wore the....well, let's not get caught up in that right now. We have more pressing needs than the needs of vulgarity and reality. Because I have an antidote to reality shows and to reality itself. I have tales of High Art and Bad Poetry to recount.

Tonight eBay advised me that the auction I commenced this weekend of "Chess Poems for the Tournament Player" netted a winning auction price of 4 dollars and 1 cent. I love that this little chapbook still sells after four years. I tend to frown a bit on people who worry about making a lot of money from an arts hobby. I'm all for making money--don't get me wrong. I just think that folks should not devalue themselves because the market doesn't value them. There is something to be said, though, for people who are willing to pay a small token to read one's light verse. It's a kind of expression of interest, measurable in currency. Small bills accepted, and preferred.

What is the secret to marketing chess poetry on-line in an auction format? Why, it's all in the ad copy. It's got to hit the right combination of silliness and mock-profundity. Here's the latest triumphal example ( of eBay secrets to click and savor, from my just-completed auction )

green islands, shrouded

"When the samba takes you
Out of nowhere
And the background’s fading
Out of focus
Yes, the picture's changing
Every moment
And your destination
You don´t know it...
Avalon"--old Roxy Music song

I love the view outside the airplane window when one is landing on an island. Be it Hawaii or New Providence Island, the sensation that one is leaving behind the world of compressed air and "lift your tray tables" and entering some new, misty, workable place, always thrills me.

We're now in the time of unpredictable micro-storms, when the weatherpeople on the television cease being always right, and often just miss the boat altogether on coming weather. Last night's rainstorm came up in an instant, and was gone in two instants. I felt warm and at home when the rain fell in huge, thick drops, a sheet of water, passing quickly.

I'm intrigued how these visual images of natural things have almost a chemical effect. But this morning my topic is not "warm, fuzzy places I have landed", but instead the elusive island of equilibrium.

( triptych )