Snowland

 

On the way home last night, as the snow began to fall, I pointed my camera at the sky.

Along the woodland way into downtown Northampton, someone hung a lost glove on a twig in hopes that its owner would pass by.

The view out the front door of the Haymarket Cafe.

A wreath made of CD's on a music store.

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Neil Young and Jerry Garcia in a snowy Main Street doorway. 

The UMass students have returned from their winter break, an event inspiring this act of retro vandalism on Herter Hall. 

This picture by S.P. Sullivan shows the Dickinson Estate in Amherst as it appeared during the snowstorm early this morning.

Here is a clever and heartfelt song about Ms. Dickinson.

A hawk and its pinned pigeon prey in downtown Springfield by Greg Saulmon. 

Emily's Scents

An Erotic Sensibility?

 

I hide myself within my flower,
That wearing on your breast,
You, unsuspecting, wear me too --
And angels know the rest.

I hide myself within my flower,
That, fading from your vase,
You, unsuspecting, feel for me
Almost a loneliness.

-Emily Dickinson

There's a fun book out called What the Nose Knows which explores all things smelly in an entertaining and informative way. Written by respected science writer Dr. Avery Gilbert, a section of the book is devoted to smell and creativity. Several paragraphs are about Amherst's Emily Dickinson and her nearly obsessive devotion to flowery fragrances.

This near-recluse lived her entire life at the family home in Amherst, Massachusetts. She was knowledgeable about botany and obsessed with flowers, of which she grew many kinds on the property and in an indoor conservatory. Cultivating flowers was a hobby for many women of her time, but unlike them Dickinson could not have cared less about showy scentless orchids.

Her exclusive passion was scented flowers. Her favorites make an impressive list: French marigold, mignonette, peony, primrose, Sweet Sultan, Sweet William, roses of various kinds, lilac, mock orange, honeysuckle, jasmine, heliotrope, and sweet alyssum. Dickinson was not into subtlety; she preferred the strong perfume of tropical jasmine and ripe "Bourbon" roses. Her conservatory was saturated in scent. Given the Victorian sensibilities of the time, these lush blossoms were considered too suggestive for the drawing room. Instead she placed pots of them in her bedroom and next to her writing desk. Not surprisingly, flowers are a major theme in her work; one in five of her poems refers to flowers in some way.

Too suggestive for the drawing room? You mean the flowers made you horny? He says she kept them by her bed and writing desk so perhaps that helps explain the erotic tension many scholars have noted in her work. Gilbert, however, quoting several passionate passages from Dickinson's poems, goes even further:

This casts a sinister new light on the poet's album of of pressed flowers, lovingly preserved in the Emily Dickinson room of the Houghton Rare Book Library at Harvard. Scholars celebrate it as a beautiful record of her passion for flowers. I think the album is a creepy thing - it houses the trophies of a serial killer.

I think Dr. Gilbert is getting a bit carried away there and reading too much into too little, but it's still an interesting notion. The whole book is full of such unexpected insights about the role of aromas in our lives. I recommend it.

Did you know that in 1987 a flower was named after Emily Dickinson? This website describes it as "One of the few variegated Hostas with fragrant lavender flowers. An irregular creamy margin on a medium green leaf." Here's a photo:

 

Kesey and Rand

I stumbled upon an interesting essay in the Los Angeles Times that makes comparisons between the work of Ken Kesey and Ayn Rand.

The journals that Kesey kept while composing his books detail how serious he was about the craft of writing, and how good. He poured every chaotic impulse and vision he had into "Cuckoo's Nest" and "Notion" but found ways to keep the basic storylines clear and simple. In "Cuckoo's Nest," the "wild goose" renegade Randle P. McMurphy rolls into the mental ward like Shane coming to town and is at once set in opposition to Big Nurse Ratched who, if not exactly the villain of the fable, is certainly the representative of society's cruel and oppressive forces. In "Notion," our first clue about the logger Hank Stamper is given by an arm that Stamper has affixed to a pole in his yard, a dead man's arm with defiant middle finger sticking upward. Both books are set in Kesey's native Oregon, and both have the same blunt plot motor that served Ayn Rand in "The Fountainhead": the guy who just refuses to give in.

Rand uses the device to tell her favored story about the triumph of the individual will, while Kesey takes it in a diametrically opposed direction. The resistance of McMurphy and Hank Stamper is glorious but destroys them and brings death to others. Thus a dilemma is raised: Does America want brute individualism or the comfort and suffocation of social order? Kesey's life tells us which side he came down on, but in his fiction he didn't answer the question; instead, he explored its ambiguities in dramatic and shattering ways. Kesey's subject was "the great wild American hollow, which is scarier than hell." 

 

Rough Justice

Even by Springfield standards it was a terrible and senseless crime - a 20 year old pizza delivery person named Corey Lind was brutally murdered while out on a delivery. Arrested was Alex Morales, who told police three different versions of what happened, each more incriminating than the last. Here's what he looked like when arrested.

Here's a photo by David Molnar of what he looked like when he appeared in court.

However Morales showed up with more than just a haircut and a new suit. He also had a whole new alibi he thought would get him off the hook. According to the Springfield Republican:

Taking the stand in his own defense, Morales testified he had first met Lind, of Chicopee, about 2 1/2 weeks before the day of the slaying. Morales stated he was walking home from work and Lind stopped and asked him if he knew where a certain address was located. Lind, delivering pizza, gave him a ride home that night and four or five other nights, he told the jurors.

Morales testified that he wanted a ride from Truman Circle home to Massasoit Street in the early morning hours of Dec. 8 and that he called Domino's to order a pizza in the hopes that Lind would be the delivery person and would give him a ride.

One of the first questions defense lawyer Alan J. Black posed to Morales was if he had been the victim of sexual abuse as a child. Morales said he had been sexually abused by an older brother for nearly two years when he was 7 years old.

In his testimony, Morales said Lind asked if he wanted to hang out together and Lind drove to Monson in search of a field where Morales said he had gone to with his girlfriend.

Morales said that as they were sitting in Lind's car in the field, Lind moved close to him and put his hand on his leg. He told the jury he then "freaked out" in part because of his childhood sexual abuse.

Morales testified he got out of the car and thought Lind was coming after him and yelling at him, perhaps with a knife, so took his own knife and kept swinging it, cutting Lind.

Asked repeatedly by Black why he didn't tell police that he was acting in self-defense after an unwanted advance, Morales kept saying he was scared and he didn't want to talk about his own childhood sexual abuse or what he alleges were Lind's advances. 

 



So it would be okay for Morales to have killed Lind if it could be proven that the person murdered was gay? I don't know which is more contemptible, that the defense lawyer even allowed his client to take the stand with such a story, or that it was thought that it might work. But of course, it's perfectly acceptable to defend your manhood by killing a queer if he makes a pass at you. Especially if a faggot bothered you when you were young.

To the jury's credit they quickly returned with a guilty verdict, showing they gave the "I only killed a queer" defense little credence. But just the fact that such a defense was even attempted shows that we still live in a society where there are those who feel that even murder is justified as long as the victim is gay.

I don't want to sound mean about it, but I hope that in prison Morales is introduced to gay sex - and not in a gentle way. 

 

Emily's Death Day

Dickinson Open House

Yesterday was the 123rd anniversary of the death of Emily Dickinson. Every year on the weekend closest to her death anniversary her hometown of Amherst, Massachusetts marks the occasion with an open house at the Dickinson homestead and a poetry walk covering important locations in the poet's life. I didn't take the walk but I stopped by her house for a few minutes to check it out. 

The front lawn of the house (above) is all torn up because a lot of trees and shrubs that did not exist in Emily's time were removed recently as part of an ongoing attempt to restore the house to how it looked when Dickinson lived there.

Here are the circumstances surrounding Dickinson's decline and death, according to the Wikipedia:

That summer she had seen "a great darkness coming" and fainted while baking in the kitchen. She remained unconscious late into the night and weeks of ill health followed. On November 30, 1885, her feebleness and other symptoms were so worrying that her brother Austin Dickinson canceled a trip to Boston. She was confined to her bed for a few months, but managed to send a final burst of letters in the spring. On May 15, 1886, after several days of worsening symptoms, Emily Dickinson died at the age of 55. Austin wrote in his diary that "the day was awful ... she ceased to breathe that terrible breathing just before the [afternoon] whistle sounded for six." Dickinson was buried, laid in a white coffin with vanilla-scented heliotrope, a Lady's Slipper orchid and a "knot of blue field violets" placed about it. The funeral service, held in the Homestead's library, was simple and short.

 

A considerable number of local history buffs and literary fans made the scene.

Inside, quite a variety of Emily Dickinson products were for sale. 

Dig this poster, which I feel captures some of the passion of the fiery redhead.

The most popular place for people to hang out was Miss Emily's garden. 

Here I am on her back porch.

 



 

Nostalgic Sighting

Afterwards we stopped in across the street at this odd little curio shop called The Claw Foot Tub.

Inside I saw this antique stove of a type I haven't seen since my grandmother died.

It was in mint condition.

 

Today's Video

Here's Jim O'Neill of Northampton's Iron Horse with David Byrne:

It's a shame about David and how weird he got. 

 

A couple from Alabama and a couple from the Northeast were seated side by side on an airplane. The girl from Alabama, being naturally friendly and all, asked the couple, "So where y'all from?"

The Northeast girl replied, "From a place where they know better than to use a preposition at the end of a sentence."

The girl from Alabama sat quietly for a few moments and then replied:

"So where y'all from, bitch?"

 

A Grave in Amherst

In Search of Emily Dickinson

 

As Geocities heads into the sunset, I'm transferring things from my archives to this blog. The following chestnut was originally published after the first time I went to the grave of Emily Dickinson and tells about how I found it. 

 



Everywhere you look in Amherst you see references to Emily Dickinson, the poetic genius who lived in town in obscurity but who after her death left behind a collection of poetry that caused her to become one of the most famous names in American literature.

But where exactly is the old girl now?
 

The other day I decided to go in search of her grave. The only clues I knew were that she was buried in Amherst, and that the town's modern day commercial district has grown up around the cemetery, concealing it from view. Therefore I started my search by heading downtown.

Unfortunately, a casual glance at the downtown buildings reveals no clues. Then unexpectedly I stumbled upon this sign, referring to a historic renovation project involving the cemetery, standing at the entrace to this alley leading to a parking lot.

Look! There's the cemetery gate at the end of the alley!

Going inside, I felt like I had passed through a time portal into another century.

Wow, this place is huge! So where should I begin my search?

I recalled reading newspaper accounts about a gateway to the grave that had been stolen years ago but recently been recovered. So, I at least knew that the grave, wherever it was, was surrounded by some kind of fence. Therefore I concluded that if I examined every fenced grave in the boneyard, one of them had to turn out to be Miss Emily's! Hey, just call me Sherlock fuckin Holmes! I quickly spotted such a gated grave and investigated.

It turned out to be a monument to a family whose members died way back in the 1830's. One of them actually served in the Revolutionary War! That gravesite was in sad shape, with the stone faded, the fence half missing and all rusty. Guess there are no relatives left to preserve it.

Then I spotted another gated gravesite a ways down this country lane.

And boom, there it was - the enclosed entranceway to the hallowed ground serving as the final resting place of the poetic visionary!

 

 I then encountered the grave of Dickinson herself. The stone and gravesite was covered with shells, rocks, coins and notes. One missive was written in Japanese. Another was written in a childlike hand that read, "I love you Emily."

In subsequent years I've preserved some of the messages I've discovered left at the grave of Emily Dickinson. For example, here's a cute one.

This is the most pathetic. At first I thought it was just a piece of trash.

But when I turned it over I found the following:

Though I never
knew you, you've
become a good
friend. I don't
have any living
friends. I'm really
sad and lonely.
HELP ME. Thank
you.

One of Emily's sad poems (she specialized in sad ones) begins heartbreakingly, "This is my letter to the world that never wrote to me." She was a great genius whose talent was ignored in her lifetime. Now today so many people make a pilgrimage to her final resting place that the otherwise lush cemetery lawn has been worn bare in front of her grave.

I guess that's what they call poetic justice.

Pride Pics

Like I said yesterday, I didn't have a chance to see the Gay Pride parade in Northampton. However, ace photographer and radio dude Bill Dwight has some pictures worth stealing, such as this hotboy on a trampoline. 

Of course the beloved Kelsey Flynn was onhand. 

Psy-gay-delic!



Hamp Mayor Clare Higgins (right) gets kissed by a girl. Sorta.

Different is good. 

Springfield Still Sinking

As long as I'm swiping pics, here's one by Bill Dusty of Springfield City Councilor Bruce Stebbins with activist Karen Powell this weekend.

I was disappointed to hear that Stebbens will not only decline to run for mayor but is giving up his City Council seat as well. He says he's doing it for family reasons, but how much do you wanna bet he'll be moving out of Springfield soon? Stebbins withdrawal may leave the heavyweight contenders for mayor as Dom Sarno and Bud Williams. Has the talent pool in Springfield actually gotten that thin? Newcomer David Parkhurst is looking better and better all the time.

Further depressing news - my spies report that former political hack Brian Santaniello took out papers for City Council last week.

New Product

Smith and Wesson is located in Springfield, Massachusetts.

Amherst College Discovery

Mystery of the Time Capsule

 



Last fall Amherst College workers were digging near the historic Hitchcock House (above) when they made a startling discovery - a water pitcher with a plastic bag inside it. The mysterious bag was filled with objects, a listing of which was recently released by the college. Exactly who buried it or why is unknown, although the college is investigating based on a variety of clues left behind. 

Time Capsule Contents

Discovered November 12, 2008 during excavations adjacent to Hitchcock House, formerly Alpha Delta Phi fraternity house. Probably buried October 1964.

• All items were placed in a clear plastic bag inside a metal serving pitcher of the sort probably used in the Alpha Delta Phi dining room.

• Student ID, [name omitted], 1963-1964

• A contemporary (fall 1964) issue of The New Republic magazine; cover headline reads “How Goes the Campaign?”

• A Pelican paperback edition of Shakespeare’s King Lear

• Music program: “Concert by the Amherst College Glee Club and the Oneonta State Women’s Glee Club, Assisted by the Amherst College Collegium Musicum,” Saturday, December 7, 1963 in Kirby Theater.

• You’re Out of Your Mind, Charlie Brown! (paperback)

• Issue of The Amherst Student, October 8, 1964

• Small banner or strip in day-glo red with black letters. Only legible text reads “FOR T”

 

Amherst's Ultimate Treasure

 



Nothing found in the recently found time capsule can hold a candle to the most valuable item in Amherst College's historical collection. It came to the college unexpectedly in 1983.

 

In April 1983 William R. Bailey, of Middletown, Ohio, learned that Amherst College had some connection to Dickinson. He wasn’t sure what it was, so he called the college to see if someone could tell him something about the poet and to ask whether the college would be interested in some Dickinson-related items he had. After his call was passed around a bit, Bailey ended up with John Lancaster, who worked in the Archives and Special Collections. After talking with Lancaster, Bailey clearly understood the nature of the library’s connection with Dickinson. 

So, on April 18, 1983, William Bailey gave Amherst a letter, personal and affectionate, from Dickinson to her lifelong friend Emily Fowler (later Ford), who was away from Amherst. The letter made the biggest splash at the time, but Bailey also gave Amherst a shiny ringlet of Dickinson’s striking auburn hair, which the poet had sent to Emily Fowler in 1853. Today, it is this lock of hair that has the biggest impact on how we “see” the poet. 

 



Later a painting was commissioned for Sunderland artist Guillermo Cuéllarto to portray Emily for the first time as she really looked. "Most people have a color-blind image of Emily Dickinson since there was only one daguerreotype that portrays the poet in varying shades of gray," said the artist. "For example, I did not know that she was a redhead."

 



 

Happy Easter!

I try as best I can to be all about rebirth, renewal and second chances. In that sense I'm totally into the spirit of Easter. So is Sam's in downtown Northampton, which closed for the day.

There was an early Easter morning crowd at the Haymarket.

Faces had silver people springing out of flowers.