Tuesday, July 17, 2012

99. The First Step is a Doozy



Two hours into the flight. Two and a half to go, or something like that. What I affectionately refer to as my cyborg assembly- the collection of titanium rods and screws and bone grafts and denuded bone tissue that makes up my lower spine and left hip- is starting to throb. It'd be nice to get up, stretch, walk around, maybe pee.

That's Lake Tahoe. 

Sunday, July 8, 2012

98. The Desert of Ideas

I think I've written about everything of interest. Or maybe I've run out of interesting things to write about. I sat on our back deck and stared at the sun going down and tried to think of something to write about. Not having a job? Beer? The Higgs Boson? Redo Plato's Allegory of the Cave, but using television, and do it in a sonnet? Beer?

Maybe I should write about my curly, silver locks. 

Maybe I should give this whole gig up.


Saturday, July 7, 2012

97. How Do You Get Rid of Things?

Back when I was writing in...prose, I guess-- although that sounds too lofty a term to apply to this thing-- in this blog,  I wrote while we were in an airport about our stuff. How all our things had been cut down to what could fit into a giant backpack and bag full of electronics each. There were times when Megan and I would talk about all our stuff waiting for us in the US wistfully. But now that we're actually back, and all that stuff is staring at us, it's overwhelming. I no longer need all this stuff. I have too many clothes and books and dishes and blankets and toys and...boxes of things that have no use to me. I have boxes that I packed when I moved from North Carolina that have not been unpacked in ten years. There's nothing in them that I need or use, but they are full of the past and feel like a part of me.

That purple velvet is wrapped around all my little dragon figurines.
 They've been that way since 2002.

And as such I find it hard to let them go.


96. Moving Puts the Ack in Back

The process of settling back in is now going slowly. We got our all our boxes moved in one day, and then got Jack the next day. Now we're just trying to find a place for everything.



Wednesday, July 4, 2012

95. Kitty!

Jack is back! We have our kitty again! Huge, massive thanks to Anup and Alena, who cared for him and kept him fat and happy and obviously loved.
King Under-the-Table


Monday, July 2, 2012

94. In Case I'm too Wrung Out to Write...

We're back in Davis, Dearies! Megan's mom drove us down today and we spent the whole day unloading our storage space and carting all our crap back to our apartment. Good lord, so much crap. I will tell you about it in detail, but not tonight. I'm too hurty and tired. I did, however, on the way down the mountain, write a sonnet for tonight on the off chance that I didn't feel up to writing one now. So that's what you get.

One last look at that wretched hive of scum and
 villainy that is Mos Eisley. I will miss you, Reno.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

93. The Edge of Reality

Tomorrow we go back to Davis, y'all. Nigh unto a year of sometimes-focused, sometimes-aimless, occasionally-intense, and too-often-slothful journeying and abroadening is about to end. Tomorrow we move back in to our old apartment, make plans to retrieve our sweet kitty, and slide back into a semblance of our old lives. But I have some trepidation; I'm not yet sure what I'll be doing to bring home the baconnaise, and as we've gotten closer to the date that uncertainty has weighed more and more heavily upon me.

I fear the Undiscovered Country.


92. How Does Warp Drive Work? A Sonneteer's Guide

I've written sonnets about quantum mechanics and chemistry and...um, other things of a sciencey nature.  I think I'll tackle warp drive.

Butterfly in the sky; I can fly twice as high...or more, because I'm in a space ship!

Friday, June 29, 2012

91. The parched desert of my nose

Reno times, my sweets and salties (of all my names for you, I think that's my favorite)! Family, grilling, visiting  restaurants we haven't been to in years (and being happy they're still the same).  But there is an aspect of Reno that sneaks up on you-- fast-- when you're not paying attention.

The verdancy of this backyard is a result of my in-laws' toil, and belies the aridity it exists in.


Thursday, June 28, 2012

90. Sexy Fire

I think I have addressed my some-might-say obsession with fire before. That's okay. The beauty of obsession is that you can just keep talking about whatever it is you obsess about.

We're in Reno now, and Megan's parents have a firepit in their backyard. I have spent many a summer evening there, watching the embers burn down and stoking them back up, long after everyone else has gone to bed.

Dang, pit, you look hot. Or could, if I set you on fire.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

89. Hell, thy name is Airplane


 We're almost done with our time in airplanes. We're in San Francisco right now, waiting for a plane to Reno. But while we were on the way here, I managed to write about how absolutely lovely it is to hurtle through the air in a giant tube crammed together with a bunch of strangers and nothing to do.
Air travel is hell, my loves. Hmm. I may have said this before. Whatever. If I have to go through it again, so do you.

Here we are. On a plane. So, so happy.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

88. Greensboro Exodus

Tomorrow we get on a jet plane, my Loves. And I'm not jumping out of this one. We're riding it to Reno to spend a few days with Megan's family and maybe catch up with some Reno friends, and then it's back to Davis. Back to life, back to reality.

Until then I am going to lick this platter of fun clean.


Monday, June 25, 2012

87. My Megan is a Fish

Our time in Greensboro's almost done, my lovelies. We head west on Wednesday. Today we had our last day out my parent's lake house. Kids running around, grownups with beer coozies (damn that's an awful word), steaks on the grill...and Megan running for the water like a little kid to an ice cream truck.




Sunday, June 24, 2012

86. 9.8 meters per second squared

I actually did it. I jumped out of a plane. That was not going down in flames. On purpose. Well, when it came down to actually jumping out of it, I couldn't do it. I also couldn't not do it. Dad had jumped before me, and Brewer and Xen were waiting on me, so I couldn't bow out. So what did I do? I closed my eyes, went to my happy place, and let Instructor Dan- the guy I was strapped to- do the whole hurling us out of the plane thing. But what I learned was that, when faced with two untenable choices, I go turtle. Hmm. What does that say about me?

Aftermath picture. We're all shellshocked. Dad's the only one who wore a supersuit.


Saturday, June 23, 2012

85. I jump out of a plane

I am going to jump out of a perfectly good airplane tomorrow. Because my father tells me to.



Friday, June 22, 2012

84. I miss Asheville

Megan and I got to spend a couple days in Asheville. I didn't get to see nearly all the people I'd wanted to, nor spend as much time with those I did see as I'd have liked. Such is the way of things, I guess.

The whole visit was like this face.


Tuesday, June 19, 2012

83. I used to know all the Dinosaurs

I used to know all the Dinosaurs, my Dears. But in recent years I've learned that there are hundreds, thousands, that have emerged as paleontological science has advanced. It makes the five-year-old in me sad because I can't keep up with everything. Whatever; I still love them.

This guy. Right here. I love him.


82. Kids, huh? That's new.

We've seen  many a friend from days gone by since we've been back in the Cackolack, my Fiddles and Banjos.  Last night we had dinner with some folks I haven't seen since...well, high school graduation night.






Sunday, June 17, 2012

81. Darth Vader is my Skipper

It's Father's Day, O my loves. So, of course, I devote a couple words to mine. I found it difficult to do an all-encompassing summary of his awesomeness, though, so I chose to focus on something he loves instead.

Yeah, I got the Dark Lord of the Sith driving
 me around. That's what this face says.


Saturday, June 16, 2012

80. Brewer's Muttonchops

My brother Brewer-- who is four years my junior-- is beating me in the race to make our foreheads bigger. I am content to let him win this. But it seems as though there is a balance, that perhaps the hair that leaves his head is really just making a break for his face. And maybe there is some jealousy in that. Despite the several months I spent with no way to trim my beard, it was never as full as the one Brewer can wield in just a couple weeks.  But, like a true badass, that's not how he wears it.





Friday, June 15, 2012

79. Death and Laughter

Ate dinner last night with my parents and Xen. We're staying with them for a bit but this was the first night everybody was all home and stuff.




78. Cloth-bound disaster

I did a stupid thing. An amazingly stupid thing, considering that I've been in charge of laundry for the past most-of-a-year.  You'd think I wouldn't do something like put clothes that are never supposed to go in the dryer in the dryer.

But if you thought that, turns out you'd be wrong.



Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

76. Putting it off til the Last Minute

I'm having trouble, my loves. I keep not writing and not writing each day, until it's late and I feel bad. I think I wrote a sonnet about this just a couple days ago, and now I'm doing it again. Why? Because I put off doing it until after I should have had it up already. I'm a bad person and I ask your forgiveness.

This picture doesn't have a lot to do with what I'm talking about,
 except as an example of the things I'm doing instead of writing.


75. Not about a tattoo

I got a tattoo today. But I'm not going to write about it. See, I was busy getting it and then having a celebratory drink or so with my awesome-like-you-read-about best-friend Robert, so I'm going to put it off til tomorrow when I have time to give it a good thought and bring to bear the full brunt of my skill. See, it's because I love you.

I'm on the left. Robert's on the right. It's hard to tell us apart, I know.


Sunday, June 10, 2012

74. Naked People

Went for a hike today along a creek, river, rocky water sort of thing. Had a good time, except for a bunch of naked folks.

There are naked people over there. Boobies. Wangs. Promise.


Saturday, June 9, 2012

73. Quality Control

Time was, my Stars and Smileys, I'd go sit at Villa Borghese, have a beer, and crank out two, sometimes three sonnets in a day. But now we're back Stateside and seeing people, having fun, speaking English, and it's becoming harder to find time to just be by myself and get my writing done. I wrote a sonnet today about spending the day with Megan and her brother and his family at Jordan Lake, and when Megan heard it she was like, "Meh."

"Meh." is what this face is saying. Although it
 may be a little come-hither now that I stare at it.


Friday, June 8, 2012

72. Dinosaurs

One of the things that scares me most, my loves, is dinosaurs. They're terrifying. They are heartless monsters and we are lucky they're gone and we don't have to struggle against them for survival.  We're spending this weekend with Megan's brother and his family, and I have been reminded that dinosaurs haven't left us completely.



Thursday, June 7, 2012

71. Marry, F-ck, or Kill

Warning: I use a bad word in this entry, my loves. We're visiting a friend of Megan's tonight, then on to the hinterlands tomorrow to see her brother and his family. We had a delicious burrito, and then went to have a drink or so at a little bar.  We played a fun game where you throw out the names of three people and choose which you would marry, which you would fuck-- er, make sweet love to-- and which you would kill. It was fun, but Megan and Allison wanted to throw around literary figures while I wanted to throw out choices like elephant, llama, or shark. Oh well.

I would not kill him, and I don't think he's the marrying type.


Wednesday, June 6, 2012

70. On Hold

We're trying to get our phone situation worked out so we don't rely on my brother or whoever happens to be nearby in order to contact someone. I am not entirely sure why, but this seems to inevitably involve spending a large amount of time on the phone, sitting on hold while whoever it is on the other end is  "checking something".




Tuesday, June 5, 2012

69. Need and Desire

I have a friend who just bought a new house, and is fretting over buying the very best, environmentally friendly and safe paint to cover over the awful colors left on the walls. I'm also, I think, about to get some new phones for milady and me, and I'm wondering whether or not to make the jump into the 21st century and get superphones. Tonight's sonnet is for us.

If only it was this simple


Monday, June 4, 2012

68. A diary of sorts

Stuff happened today. Nothing amazingly major. I found out I still know how to drive, Megan's travel plans were solved by a fortuitous chance meeting with an old friend, and we got taken to dinner. But still, it was hard to find time to get this sonnet written. But one of the upshots was this picture:

Megan said, "Move a little closer. No, closer. No, close...oh. Okay."

Sunday, June 3, 2012

67. A Megan at rest tends to stay at rest


There will come a day when we will be back at work, getting up at grown-up hours and doing grown-up things and being all responsible. But today is not that day.




Saturday, June 2, 2012

66. First Day Back

We're back in the You Ess of Ay, my Dear Ones. It's...surprisingly not as strange as I thought it might be. There is a sense of creeping strangeness, like it might be more shocking the longer we leave it to simmer. But our return has been vastly buffered by being met and pampered by my brother, plus having a mostly empty yet immense house to lounge around in for a while.

This is an important part of the transition process.


Friday, June 1, 2012

65. Lost in the air

We are back in the States, but only technically. We're floating in JFK airport, waiting a few hours for a fight that has now been delayed a few hours more, so...fun.  But I managed to write a sonnet while in the plane, much less than I thought. And it's a little...lost.

This pigeon is not lost. He knows right where he is--
on top of  a little metal railing-- and he is pretty proud of it.


Thursday, May 31, 2012

64. Leaving on a jet plane

Tomorrow is the Crossing. We leave from Paris, to Reykjavik, to New York, and then plonk down in sweet ol' Cackolack at midnight, local time. It'll be 6 am for us. Fun. But the journey itself reminds of all the great things about flying.





Wednesday, May 30, 2012

63. This is the end

'Tis our final night in Petit Bateau, my sweets. I may write about that in the coming days. But a couple days ago my friend Anna responded to something I said about our last trip to Recloses, something along the lines of, "Why do the good things always have to come to an end?"  So I'm going to write about that tonight.




Tuesday, May 29, 2012

62. For love of the Enterprise

She's a fine ship, my loves. She's carried the name through many vessels, both actual and imagined, though not necessarily fictional-- yet.
I give you a sonnet to all of them.


This doesn't include JJ Abrams' re-envisioned Enterprise, which I hear
 is an element of argument amongst those geeky enough to worry. 

Monday, May 28, 2012

61. The Drenchening

Today we went to Lac Daumesnil, a little lake in/near the Bois de Vincennes, over in the southeast corner of Paris. It was lovely, and one of the things Megan had wanted to do since she first came here during the winter was rent one of the barques, or rowboats, and go puttering around on the water. Today we did so, and got what we deserved.

No kids; that's not Sebastien Chabal. Though I understand your confusion.




Sunday, May 27, 2012

60. Recloses, je t'aime

I only wrote of Recloses (pronounced ruh-clozeonce, though we went there many times. Louis would trade his cottage for our apartment so that he might get a weekend in Paris and we could have a weekend not there. The Larry family treated us as though we were part of them, sharing meals and adventures and birthdays and firewood.

This past weekend things worked out so that we were all there at the same time: all the Larrys, their/our friend Anna, and the lads in the cottage, Louis and Ariel, hung out for the evening so we could celebrate Shaie's 6th birthday.

Recloses, and the wonderful people we met there, was the sweetest part of coming here. It's going to be the hardest part to leave behind.




Saturday, May 26, 2012

59. Elegy for a sheep

We're in Recloses again this weekend. In the back yard is a goat, Blanchette, and a sheep, Dolly. This morning we couldn't find Dolly. Usually she's hard to miss; like pigs, sheep loom much larger in real life than they do in little plastic barnyard toy sets. But, "Oh well. Not my sheep, not my problem," we thought.   A little while later, feeling curious, we made a more thorough search and found her in the tool shed.

This is from February, when she was feeling...a little more herself.


Friday, May 25, 2012

58. The Mark of Cain

I don't have long to write, my loves. We're in Recloses this weekend for Shaie's birthday party. I'm sure you remember her from my earlier post about our stay there. Anyway, it's big fun party, as a party for a six-year old yet full of adults might be.
But tonight's poem is not about that. It's about my future tattoo.

This picture is foreshadowing


Thursday, May 24, 2012

57. Feels Good to Burn

When you know what you're supposed to do in life, it's easier to set your course than if you've been given complete freedom. But without that freedom, you don't get to choose your destiny. Which is better? To do what has been chosen, and fully realize what has been prepared for you? Or to set out into the unknown, without no guarantees as to what will come, but at the same time without limits placed upon you?

Who will I be? A god encased in human form? Or just some guy stuck in a tiny apartment?


Wednesday, May 23, 2012

56. Spells and poetry

There are books and books and books on how to write. I haven't read them all, but I've read them some. They have some helpful things to say, but oddly, I haven't found one that describes my process and writing space.

This is where the magic happens.


Tuesday, May 22, 2012

55. I owe my soul to the Company store


We're coming to the end of our time here, and with it, my freedom from worrying about not having a job or how I'm ever going to pay off all the student loans I got in order to pay for the teaching job I never got to keep.  It makes me sad, my loves. I got this mill-stone 'round my neck that just won't go.

Captain Graduate didn't owe nobody a nickel.
I miss that guy and his not-owingness. 



Monday, May 21, 2012

54. Paul Revere- the sonnet

Every day I'm sonneting, jims and jems, and a good bit of that is me trying to figure out what I'm going to write about. What more can I say about Paris? Do I want to turn off a bunch of people by writing about Star Wars (again, I think)?

Every day I write a sonnet and then, time allowing, I write another. This one has less of a sense of urgency, because I've got that day taken care of. But sometimes removing that pressure makes for a better sonnet.  The thought that started this one was: What if I rewrote the Beastie Boys' Paul Revere as a sonnet?


I even did it as a Spenserian one. They're trickier for me, though getting less so. Enjoy.


Sunday, May 20, 2012

53. The City of the Dead, Drowned, and Drunk

Today started without a clear clue, sent us to a cemetery, and wound up with us laughing uproariously.  It was a good day. First we were going to meet with Nails at Cemeterie Pere Lachaise, but then we found out that Nails' iPhone got stolen, but we were going to try to meet up with her anyway...no. Is too long. I sum up.

elevator saucy


Saturday, May 19, 2012

52. All your time are belong to us

Hello, my name is Nathaniel Sternbergh, and I'm an addict. I've never really indulged this addiction to the extent it would like, but the times I have loosened its rein a bit and let it play tell me that to unleash it completely could very well lead to the end of my marriage, social life, all the usual stuff.

This was my gateway game
But if I'm careful I can take the beast out for a walk sometimes.

Friday, May 18, 2012

51. The road home starts with boxes

Our time here grows short. We leave in exactly two weeks. In fact, in exactly two weeks we'll be somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. Or maybe we'll be cooling our heels in JFK. Regardless, we started taking our first steps along our Exodus just the other day.

One of those shirts lashed to the side fell off on our way here.  I cried when I found out.
 That's how exhausted I was. I cried because I'd lost a white tshirt.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

50. Sonnet all the things!

First off, my loves, I want to pay obeisance to Allie Brosh, author of the blog Hyperbole and a Half and unwitting (and usually uncredited) creator of that "...all the things!" meme you may have seen here or there. She is incredibly hilarious; I have cried from laughing so hard while reading her blog. You should check her out.

Now. Back to me. Writing a sonnet a day winds up being more than just sitting for a few minutes and cranking one out. I can do that, at times, but they're not my best. No, a good one takes at least a half hour-- more for those tricky Spenserian jobs-- and then it'll probably want some tweaking when I transfer it from my notebook to my computer. And I like to do more than one a day, if I can, to make up for days when I just can't make it work or there isn't time. And the best sonnets, I feel, are made when I get to sit in a cafe with a beer and sip, scribble, stare, rinse, repeat.

World-famous sonneteer returning home after
 a hard day writing at the bar.