Yes, I suppose I’ve stayed in bed too long,
till noon,
tangling myself between sheets,
roaming the untouched corners of my mind
while my head is held comforted
by pillows.
It’s the only way,
these lazy Saturdays,
while the white noise of neighbors’ water runs
and planes of busy people
fly high above me.
At the peak of daytime,
I am only just beginning;
better that I make this transition
slowly,
than rush myself through
taking note of nothing.
Run along without me.
Let me savor sleep
and hold myself
in the quietness of simply being.
book·ish : Favorite Film Adaptations of Literature.
Oscar season is upon us! Do you watch them every year? Last night the hubs and I watched the Ides of March, which is a nominee for Best Adapted Screenplay. I haven’t read the book, but it got me thinking about best adapted films from literature. I find it interesting that The Help is not on the list; I felt that the film did great justice to this beloved novel! But that’s not the first time I’ve disagreed with Oscar picks. [Here is the full list of Oscar nominees for 2012.]
My all time favorite adapted film is Atonement. It is also in my top favorites of books and films in general. It was nominated for Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay at the 80th Academy Awards in 2007, but fell to No Country for Old Men on both counts.
Tell me, what is your favorite film adaptation of a novel?
~
book·ish/ˈbo͝okiSH/Adjective
Inspired By.
I’ve wanted to get my hands on it for a long time, and now I am finally and blissfully engrossed in Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. It is as good as everyone has insisted, and it’s just what I need right now. I love the imagery in this,
“I wish I had a secret I could let you in on, some formula my father passed on to me in a whisper just before he died, some code word that has enabled me to sit at my desk and land flights of creative inspiration like an air-traffic controller. But I don’t.”
Mingus at the Showplace : Digesting Experience
Mingus at the Showplace
BY WILLIAM MATTHEWS
I was miserable, of course, for I was seventeen,
and so I swung into action and wrote a poem,
and it was miserable, for that was how I thought
poetry worked: you digested experience and shat
literature.
Poem : The Movement
I’ve never been able to cartwheel.
Even as a kid.
But since everything in my life is changing,
Upside down and backwards to how
I thought I would feel,
I figure,
I should do things differently.
Make changes.
Try, for once, to feel triumphant,
exuberant,
because
YES!
I did it!
I’ll stretch my body out.
Reach my hands to the firm ground.
Let my feet feel the wind,
the free-flowing sky.
Let my stomach muscles loosen
and my belly-button see daylight.
Because I am capable of movement.
I am capable of being moved.