2011/06/17

Soundlessly Among the Thunderheads and Passenger Jets as They Make Their Nightlong Journeys Across the Oceans and Steppes



The taxi picks us up at 4:00 PM, we fly out at 8:00, land in Reykjavik around midnight for an hour layover, land in London 3:00 AM body time, 8:00 local time Saturday morning. My druthers for Saturday is to ride the red buses around while in jet-lagged daze and try to get to sleep early. We'll see.

We've survived our first crisis. The twins (two of Planet's friends are identical twins who I can tell apart when they're together and almost always when they're apart) were going to end their trip in London by meeting their grandmother and chunneling to Paris, but Wednesday the grandmother fell and broke her ankle and can't meet them. I called Icelandic Air and got all the return information and forwarded it via Planet via the twins to the twins' parents, and they are booked on our plane from London to Reykjavik but must take two different planes, first to New York, then to Dulles. I have no idea how much Icelandic Air gouged them, but it must have been a mighty gouging. If this is the worst crisis of the trip, please and thank you.

I will be posting photos and comments about the trip, though how much and how often depends on both time and internet access. I'm assuming the hotels we'll be in will be happy to gouge me for wifi - I remember the first night in London when we went in 2009 I was shocked to find I needed to pay for wifi in the hotel and rice and water at the Indian restaurant, what a motherfucking American I was. I'm hoping there's too much to do to blog more than hurriedly - certainly, below is your last blogwhoring link-farming until I get back. If I hear music I've never heard before that I like and can find I'll post it, though regular musical programming won't return until I do. I've posted the poem as a link I would have posted Sunday if home below; it's truer than I wish it was. I'll not blog the two United games, on the road Saturday in Salt Lake and at home the following Saturday versus Houston. This guy will see that my ticket goes to good use. Bleggalgazing will continue.









THE STRANGE HOURS TRAVELERS KEEP

August Kleinzahler

The markets never rest
Always they are somewhere in agitation
Pork bellies, titanium, winter wheat
Electromagnetic ether peppered with photons
Treasure spewing from Unisys A-15 J mainframes
Across the firmament
Soundlessly among the thunderheads and passenger jets
As they make their nightlong journeys
Across the oceans and steppes


Nebulae, incandescent frog spawn of information
Trembling in the claw of Scorpio
Not an instant, then shooting away
Like an enormous cloud of starlings


Garbage scows move slowly down the estuary
The lights of the airport pulse in morning darkness
Food trucks, propane, tortured hearts
The reticent epistemologist parks
Gets out, checks the curb, reparks
Thunder of jets
Peristalsis of great capitals


How pretty in her tartan scarf
Her ruminative frown
Ambiguity and Reason
Locked in a slow, ferocious tango

Of if not, why not