-- Leo's gemini proxy

-- Connecting to gemini.circumlunar.space:1965...

-- Connected

-- Sending request

-- Meta line: 20 text/gemini

~christina's five questions: my answers

2020-06-15


~christina asks 5 questions on her gemini capsule, and I thought I'd answer.

Check out the questions here.


> 1. One of my favorite things to do in the summer is drive with my window rolled down and the music turned up. What is on your summertime playlist?


This is a great question! I also love driving with my windows down and my music up, though I'd like the choice not to sometimes -- right now I must because my car has no A/C. As far as the playlist goes: I don't tend to make playlists, but I do like listening to college radio, specifically KLSU in Baton Rouge; I also listen to the local NPR station (though that's not music!). Here's a list of the most summery songs I can think of:


"Summertime Girls", by LFO

... apparently that's it. lol


> 2. I recently moved back to the area where I grew up. Tell me about where you grew up - has it changed? If you left, what would induce you to return? If you've always lived there, what would induce you to leave?


I grew up in Sevierville, TN -- which happens to also be Dolly Parton's hometown. There's a statue of her outside of the courthouse, the main street through town is named after her, and my dad worked at her theme park, Dollywood, for 35 years. It was also my first job.


Sevier County changed a lot since the middle of the 20th century, from a very poor mountain town to a tourist destination, with the Great Smokey Mountains National Park, Silver Dollar City (later Dollywood), and Pigeon Forge taking off. I grew up there in the 90s and 2000s, when it was already pretty touristy. I grew up with an utter disregard of anything I deemed as tourism, paired with an anxiety that I'd be similarly judged. When I travelled in high school and college I think I impaired my own enjoyment of the places I went because of that anxiety.


But enough about that. Sevierville is still pretty similar to how it was when I was younger, except the population is booming. The city is creeping out toward the countryside, where my parents live, though I think it'll be quite a while before they're pressured to sell their property to some developer. My favorite A & W is still there, though, and what's apparently the busiest Wal-Mart in the world. Pigeon Forge's strip is always changing, so I'm sure it's different, but I hardly ever go there, even when I visit.


Dollywood has changed a lot since I was a kid. About a decade before he retired, my dad was almost pushed out because of the increasing corporate nature of the company. He was saved by an old friend and coworker of his sticking their neck out for him. I don't like the direction the park has been going in -- the signs aren't hand-painted any more, it feels more and more like a manufactured experience instead of something organic and artful, and it's just not as much fun. Last I checked, they still had the best ride there (Blazing Fury -- if you go to Dollywood, make *sure* to go on the Blazing Fury!), but if they ever get rid of it I'll be completely devastated.


The only thing that would entice me to return to Sevierville to live would be if I could create a writer's/artist's retreat on my parents' property, with little cabins dotted through the woods. I don't think that's ever going to happen though -- I don't know if it'd be worth it.


> 3. What tree is your favourite and why?


My yard growing up had a maple tree in it that I climbed a lot. I watched ants go up and down its trunk; I felt the breeze sway the branches; I watched up the road to see cars come down and go to town or whereever they were going; I pressed my hand to the bark and felt I could almost feel its heartbeat. I think that might still be my favorite tree.


As far as species go, however, either a magnolia or rhodadendron.


> 4. What were you afraid of as a child? Are you still afraid or did you "grow" out of it?


Something I'm still pretty scared of nowadays is mold. Though I'm not sure if *fear* is the right word to describe my feeling, but it's a deep disgust. Mold skeezes me out, it always has. More than it should, even, because I'm sure most people think mold is pretty gross. But I have this vision of it entering my skin and like, circulating around my body. Blech.


When I was a kid, I was *scared* of the dark, like a lot of kids. I was worried that Voldemort would be staring at me through the window if I opened the blinds at night. When I was in highschool, I moved my bedroom to upstairs, which was like an unfinished attic, and it got pitch black at night. For a while I could only go to sleep with absolutely no light at all. Nowadays, I can sleep in some light, but I'm no longer scared of the dark. I take more care in the dark, but fear doesn't drive me.


> 5. Who are some poets that you enjoy? What is it about them that speaks to you?


My go-to favorite poet is Jack Gilbert, e.g. "The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart:"


How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,
God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words
get it wrong. We say bread and it means according
to which nation. French has no word for home,
and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people
in northern India is dying out because their ancient tongue
has no words for endearment. I dream of lost
vocabularies that might express some of what
we no longer can. Maybe the Etruscan texts would
finally explain why the couples on their tombs
are smiling. And maybe not. When the thousands
of mysterious Sumerian tablets were translated,
they seemed to be business records. But what if they
are poems or psalms? My joy is the same as twelve
Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.
O Lord, thou art slabs of salt and ingots of copper,
as grand as ripe barley lithe under the wind’s labor.
Her breasts are six white oxen loaded with bolts
of long-fibered Egyptian cotton. My love is a hundred
pitchers of honey. Shiploads of thuya are what
my body wants to say to your body. Giraffes are this
desire in the dark. Perhaps the spiral Minoan script
is not a language but a map. What we feel most has
no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses and birds.

or his heartbreaking "Michiko Dead:"


He manages like somebody carrying a box
that is too heavy, first with his arms
underneath. When their strength gives out,
he moves the hands forward, hooking them
on the corners, pulling the weight against
his chest. He moves his thumbs slightly
when the fingers begin to tire, and it makes
different muscles take over. Afterward,
he carries it on his shoulder, until the blood
drains out of the arm that is stretched up
to steady the box and the arm goes numb. But now
the man can hold underneath again, so that
he can go on without ever putting the box down.

Though I haven't revisited my favorite poet in a long time, since college really. It's something you could call ironic, since I studied poetry in school, but sometimes I think it's more sad. I've fallen off the wagon of poetry, I suppose. I need to get back on it.

-- Response ended

-- Page fetched on Thu Mar 28 20:28:03 2024