Ode to a One Sink Bathroom

How sweet that you bumped my elbow
in the mirror you caught my eye
you brush your teeth with such vigor
and tell me how to brush mine

So cute when you take off your makeup
with wipes that smell'o formaldehyde
your face near the faucet for an hour
my beautiful sweet darling bride

Seriously, what are you doing?
I have toothpaste in my mouth!
I'm definitely not going to swallow it,
and you suggest the toilet to spit it out?

You stand there taking your time
probably on purpose, but really, who knows?
but if you hog the sink any longer
like Luda, I'mna throw them bows.


now, at least forty five minutes later
I'm standing here left only to think
about how in our next house
you're getting your own goddamn sink.

Hemingway: Not Androgynous

Summer Reading List

So I'm a day late for the first day of Summer.  Meh, not my favorite season.  Hot, muggy, sweaty, sticky.  And bugs.  If you haven't noticed yet, I hate bugs.  Worst things to have been created/evolved/brought here by aliens.  Did you know that even with all of the insecticides we've created as a race, we've never been able to eradicate ONE species of bug?  We've almost killed off some of the most badass animals ever (I'm talking to you, dead Siberian tigers), but a moth?  Nope.

I think that's true. Probably is.  I heard it once, so it must be.

Anyway, since it's Summertime, and the livin's easy (especially after monday, which is the end of my sandpaper-rubbing-on-my-eyeballs summer class), I plan on reading more.  And in the spirit of school, I've compiled for you my Summer Reading list, which I desperately hope to get through.

1.  Sentimental Education by Gustave Flaubert - I'm a big French Lit fan, and a medium Flaubert fan.  I mildly enjoyed Mme Bovary, and heard Sentimental Education was a home run book.  This book has been sitting on my bedside table for a month, and I'm finally looking forward to beating the crap out of it.  Intellectually.

2.  Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss, MD - I want to buy this book so badly because my wife is kicking the pants off me in reading to Sammy.  This book is really just a proxy for all English language rhyming books for children.  See here for more details on my reading angst.

3.  Betsy and I had a Stroke - This book was written in secret by my overly dramatic grandfather.  I only just came across it because of a manic bout of family-oriented Name-Googling whose impetus was brought on because of a case study in one of my classes.  My grandpa is a bit of a gossip, so I want to read it before it permeates the family and enters the "spin-zone". 

4.  Star Wars Encyclopedia - I think the title pretty much sums up every reason to ever read this book.  They say War and Peace is the best book ever?  Psh - move over Pierre Bezukhov and your three thousand other characters - Luke Skywalker's in town.

While I'd love to add some more to this list, I realize I've really only got eight weeks, and there's lots of "Summering" to do other than being boring by reading books. For example, I've been putting off War and Peace for...well, as long as I knew it was a book. 

Are there any books you can suggest I should substitute in?  What are you reading over the Summer?  And please don't say Charles Dickens.

Poetry - a treatise

It is a favorite past time of my in laws to recite poetry.  After a few shots, a discussion of the current state of affairs in the US, Israel, and all former USSR countries, and proper ways to do "trick-shots" (such as putting the shot glass in the bend of your elbow), a young Russian's fancy turns to love, and romantic poetry begins to be spouted.

A constant favorite is the snippet from Eugene Onegin "I loved you once", translated in English below for those of you who are link-o-phobic.

I loved you once: perhaps that love has yet
To die down thoroughly within my soul;
But let it not dismay you any longer;
I have no wish to cause you any sorrow.
I loved you wordlessly, without a hope,
By shyness tortured, or by jealousy.
I loved you with such tenderness and candor
And pray God grants you to be loved that way again.

I memorized the first three lines (in Russian, mind you) just by sheer contact-repetition.  Every once in a while, they will pull out a Lermontov, or if someone's feeling especially saucy, they'll break out the Bunin.

This gets me thinking, after my head clears from all the vodka/Romanticism, about why it is that in America, we don't pay nearly as much attention to poetry as the Russians do.  My 6 year old nephew (who, to be clear, has Russian parents) is already memorizing Pushkin, and it's treated as if it's completely natural, and not creepy at all.

The only poem I've ever memorized in my life is a William Carlos Williams poem, "Red Wheelbarrow" (cut/pasted below).  This is because he obviously had twitter's character limit in mind when writing the poem.  This helps with memorization

so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.

Blogger's note - immediately after this, there was originally a whole bunch of really great and funny stuff that I was particularly proud of...but somehow it disappeared into the belly of the Blogger Beast. What follows is a poor man's attempt to recreate what was once a brush with genius, but is now just figurative blog fodder.


That poem is nice and all - gives a great perspective, and brings attention to blah blah blah, barfidy puke-hurl.  But it's vastly different from the poems in the Russian repertoire.  Why is it, though, that I've only ever memorized one poem?  Most likely because poems are stupid.  But it is also probable that my high school education came into play a little bit.  My teacher would introduce poems to us that made very little sense, and offer very little explanation as to what the poet was trying to say.  This led to the assumption  discovery that most poets end up adhering to the following formula when developing their "poems":

First, decide the tone of your poem, happy or sad.  Happy poems are boring, so it's best to choose sad poems.  Then string together a list of random and infrequently used words in such a way as they are related in a coherent fashion but just mysterious enough to cripple any true meaning. The more infrequently used, the better.  Observe the following stanza from a poem:

Parched and posted atop the pugilistic rampart
The mockingbird does not caw
Misogynistic hands grip the beleaguered bird's heart
To bring forth guilt back into its gaping maw

Brilliant, you say?  Perhaps too brilliant?  A great rhyming scheme mixed with a bit of alliteration?  Did you catch the deeper meaning of the word "Misogynistic"?  Did you go back and read it more than once?  I greatly apologize if you did, because I literally just wrote it in a matter of a few seconds.

This, to me, has become the problem with poetry.  It's almost like a language that has been developed by crazy hipsters to differentiate themselves from everyone else, thus making sure that they retain their elite and esoteric status as hipsters.  So is this the problem?  Is this why nobody likes poetry?

Or is it due to a flaw in our educational system?  Enlisting those who cannot discuss the subject properly could result in generations of Americans who just simply do not get it because they were never taught HOW to get it.

And as a final possibility, could it be that it's a more systemic flaw in our culture that while we can sit long enough to read W.C.W., we can't sit around long enough to extract that he's trying to bring focus to an under-appreciated object, and show us that even the most overlooked things can be objects of adoration.

Not unlike a good poem, perhaps?  Psh, if that were true, there'd be a movie about the stupid wheelbarrow.  And an action figure.

I realize i'm generalizing here, because there are plenty of people who like poetry.  But let's face it.  They're in the minority.  Because honestly?  Poetry's dumb.

Charles Dickens - an explanation

Not too long ago, I briefly mentioned my hatred for Charles Dickens.  I feel like I need to explain. 

I have been told many, many, many times about how influential and monumental he was.  But you know what?  He published in serials.  You know who else "published in serials"?  John Wayne Gacy.  That's who.

Let me start my unsolicited complaining session with a block quote from one of Mr. Dick-ens' most famous and well-regarded novels.  Mind you, this is also one my wife consistently pushes for me to read.  Oliver Twist.  This was pulled from Project Gutenberg, the greatest and most worthy endeavor known to man.

Chapter I

Treats of the Place Where Oliver Twist Was Born and of the Circumstances Attending His Birth

Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse; and in this workhouse was born; on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage of the business at all events; the item of morality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter.

Take that in.  You'll likely need about three or four times to read the entire passage through.

Notice also how it is ONLY ONE SENTENCE.  Wtf, Chuck?  You have every possible punctuation mark in there: the comma, the semi-colon, and, most likely your favorite, the *wink-wink* "colon" (let the pun seep in a sec).  Also notice how he doesn't say ANYTHING.  If I'm reading this in the 1830's - 1840's, I'm pissed off, cause you've just wasted 90% of my free time with your blabbering, and now I have to go work in the coal mines for a day and a half.  Sorry kids - can't kiss you good bye, you can thank Mr. Charles Dickens over there for stealing away your father's free time.

I've always been told in my writing, English, literature classes that the very first paragraph of your novel is supposed to be designed to get your reader hooked.  But after reading this, I'm already looking and saying...What?? how many pages are left?  Then I'm doing a double take at just how bloody long this bloody novel is.  Then I'm wondering if mass book burning would be OK if it were author-selective.

I will now rephrase it in real-person words.

Chapter One:

Where and How Oliver Twist Was Born

Common to every city, there was a workhouse.  And in one nondescript workhouse in one nondescript city, the eponymous character referenced by the title of this chapter was born.

BADA-BOOM.  Simple - straightforward, and you only have to read it once.  You even get the repetitive effect in the second sentence that metaphorically drives home how common the beginnings of Oliver Twist were. Not the most interesting of ways to lead into a novel, but that might just be the point.  Ok, I get that "the Chas-Dick" was paid by word, so there was incentive to blabber, but, I mean...come ON.  He sounds like a long-winded John Kerry. Or a hyperactive and under-confident valley girl telling you all the details they're NOT going to tell you about.  

Ok, so there's this guy, right? He's with this girl, but I can't tell you which girl he's with - not that it matters, because the story's not really about the girl, it's about the guy, and what the guy did with the girl.  Ok, so it's a little about the girl, but not enough that I have to tell you a lot about who she is or anythi...

I think you get the idea.

So, at risk of sounding like Charles Dickens, I think this post is long enough.

Night-time Routine

Fed up with the month long randomness that went along with having a month old child, my wife and I decided to put Sammy on a routine.

After a bath, a rubdown with baby-oil, and a clean diaper, and while being fed, we read to him, alternating between Russian language stories and English language stories.

That's all fine and good, but there's one problem.  I don't have any English Language books for a 2 month old.

I've got Calvin and Hobbes.  I've got Horatio Hornblower.  I've got Hardy Boys, and Treasure Island, and Three Musketeers, and old Spider Man comics.  Dragonlance, C.S. Lewis, The entire Oz series of books, miscellaneous Star wars (canon, duh) books, and Goosebumps.

But I have nothing for someone who cannot hold his own head.

My wife, on the other hand, has hundreds of silly jovial stories about various forest animals interacting in a friendly and helpful way.  In one, a friendly bird is helping some cute squirrels gather food for the winter.  In another, a fox defends a deer against a dangerous boar through wit and cleverness.

I started with two - Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny.  And now I'm out.

But I've looked!  and everything I've seen has been disappointingly stupid.  Take Mrs. Mustard's Baby Face book. Just a bunch of faces.  Dumb.  Then there's Black & White.  I'm not crazy about beginning to teach my 8 week old about racial inequalities just yet.  And I also came across Pat the Bunny, which seems like a thinly veiled sexy book.  inappropriate, much?

So, I guess I'm going to have to resort to reading in Russian, subjecting my son to bad pronunciation and frequently made-up words.  Anyone have any suggestions as to good infant books?

Literature - War and Peace

One of the big stipulations my wife and I both want for our son is to be a voracious reader.  My wife, as a self-proclaimed literature geek, has read just about everything published before 1900 world wide.  Everything except the new testament.  When we first started dating, I felt this huge imbalance, because my experience with literature has been limited to Dragonlance novels, and J.R.R. Tolkien, and when i really wanted to be immersed in thought-provoking work, i'd pull out a Vonnegut, or Bradbury book.  That's not to say that the Dragons of a Summer Flame isn't a badass book, though.

I'll have to admit - when i was in my teenage years, i had a bit of a crush on Margaret Weis, and a man crush on Tracy Hickman.  However, I didn't know it was a man crush until maybe three years ago when i found out Tracy Hickman was a dude.  Their Death Gate Cycle was probably the most badass thing i'd ever read.

Until...

Talk about Badass.  This guy is pretty much the epitome of everything awesome.  And really, this is what started my thinking that actual literature wasn't as bad as i had always thought.  Except for Dickens.  He's terrible.  So, i know you're supposed to read Count of Monte Cristo and Three Musketeers when you're in your early teens, but i ended up reading it when i was closing in on 20.  But as maturity would have it, there wasn't much difference for me, and i thought they were both awesome.

So i started to read.  I changed my major to French Literature, and got into Hugo and Proust and Flaubert.  But that's not very interesting.


The reason I'm bringing this up is because i finally picked up the Book to End all Books.  The Everest of books.  The book most used in murders and robberies as a bludgeon.  War and Peace.

I've tried it twice before.  I thought Anna Karenina was brilliant, and figured War and Peace would be just as insightful and moving.  But I've never gotten past that first party inside Anna Pavlovna's house.  This is where i am right now, and I'm quickly losing interest.

However, as i said before, we both want literature to be an incredibly important part of our son's life, so i'm resolute in the fact that i'm going to be pressing on.  i feel like i'm carrying a huge log.

ha.  this guy was miniaturized and is playing with Lincoln Logs.  and moving on...

And so far - I think I've understood more about what the story is going for.  Whereas Anna Karenina was more about the intense detail of one woman's life, War and Peace should be read as a intense detail of every single person's life throughout Russia during the Napoleonic Period.  How I'm expected to remember all these details is a mystery.  I can barely remember my own birthday, let alone the extensive facets and motivations of all of these people.  I just tried to count, and somewhere around "N" I lost count at like 80.

I'll let you know how things turn out.

A Small and Limited Background - continuation of the Beginning

All great books usually start with some sort of character background - something that can give the reader a foundation to jump off of when the actual storyline comes into play.  And by great books, I don't mean Charles Dickens books.  Unfortunately for literature buffs, I've never liked his body of work.  Also, he was ugly.

Anyway, I live in Philadelphia with my wife, who, as said previously, is due in January.  We've got a modest house, and we're both in our mid 20s.  It's not a terribly outstanding and original background until you throw into the mix that she is originally from Minsk, Belarus, and is Jewish.  An interesting side-note, her Belorussian Passport says that her nationality is not actually Belorussian, she is instead of Jewish nationality, a practice they are now stopping, apparently.

We met in college, French class to be more specific.

You know how in the first couple days of class, you sort of do a scan of your fellow students to figure out which ones are the hottest, and which ones you think you'd like to meet?  I picked her out as definitely the most attractive.  But i never thought i'd have the guts to get up and go talk to her.  Luckily, we both smoked back then.  You can say a lot of stuff about smoking cigarettes, but one thing you can't say is that it never promoted friendly bullshitting.  You can't really help but blabber with someone while puffing away.  So I actually got enough nerve to chat with her.

The majority of the rest is uninteresting.  however, i do have to add that at the time, she was only in the country for maybe two years.  I think this was the most interesting time in our relationship, simply because she only had a general command of the English language.  Flirting with a girl who only understands 50% of what you say can be...well...really fun.  And as luck would have it, she was into me enough to look past a lot of the bad jokes I made.  or, she just didn't understand them.  Or, as a third possibility, she did understand them but only pretended not to, playing to the possibility that i had a thing for being misunderstood.  I doubt it was the last one.

Anyway, this is the reason for the title of the Blog - Smells like Borscht.  A ridiculous inside joke alluding to the mixing of cultures, and centered around silly foods and traditions brought to the table by both a Lutheran American Former Punk, and a Jewish Belorussian literature and history geek.

As an addendum, please excuse these first posts.  I understand they have a lack of coherent or consistent voice and style, but i figure it'll take me a while to really work out how I want to write this thing.