The Bird is the Word: Sophisticated Schoolyard Shenanigans
By Makena Behnke
people have heard many compliments concerning their eye color, but not many people compare brown eyes to anything except chocolate.
so here is a list of things you can compare brown eyes to:
Editor Charles Schnell
By Renée
Standing on the mountain top,
it fills me with a very cautious feeling
of a satisfying happiness
with a streak of fear.
Have you ever felt that way?
I also feel that way when I’m in my own room,
writing of feelings or things that I find strange,
or when with my dog,
or with a close friend,
or when I’m by myself,
lying down somewhere,
thinking about you, and life, and fiction.
I guess that feeling is a cautious freedom.
Editor Makena Behnke
Report submitted by Investigating Officers Shelby Armor and Claire Jenkins
After receiving information from witness Sydney Scheck (via a comment left on the Blog) regarding the suspicious behavior of possible suspects Jake Mulé and Caroline Scheil, Detectives Armor and Jenkins went after Mulé and Scheil. Wanted criminal Caroline Scheil and suspect Jake Mulé were brought in yesterday for questioning with Detective Armor. The interview was recorded and attached below:
Officers Armor and Jenkins investigated Ms. McKee’s closet, and everything was still intact and unmoved as of December 10, 2017. Armor and Jenkins are currently on the hunt for now-possible suspect Sydney Scheck, who will be brought in for questioning as well involving this newfound information.
from the Office of Special Prosecutor B. Nick
On December 4th, the PVS Select Choir sang “The Star-Spangled Banner” at Palm Desert Council Chamber at The Blue Light Ceremony honoring law-enforcement officers who lost their lives in the line of duty.
Public Service Announcement Created by Blogger-Choir Member Charles Schnell
Our school’s very talented Select Choir and Vocal Music Elective Choir have been hard at work over the past few months on their Winter Concert, which is coming up in just a couple weeks. This year, the concert will be on not one but TWO nights: Wednesday the 20th and Thursday the 21st! The concerts will start at 7 p.m. in the MPR. Admission is $5 for students and $10 for adults. There is no reserved seating, so, first come, first served! Tickets are on sale right now online at Eventbrite–PVS Winter Choir Concert (link below); paying at the door is also a viable option. The choir members and vocal director Mr. Craig Gahnz-Kuhar have a wonderful range of festive songs prepared–slow, fast, Christmas, Hanukkah, seasonal songs galore! We hope to see you there.
http://www.eventbrite.com/e/pvs-winter-choir-concert-tickets-40995964032
Editor: Makena Behnke
Beginning of a Novel Series by Charles Schnell
Charles outlined a novel/series. He liked it, so he wrote how he imagined it would begin. This is its prologue.
Dashuri Jetë was a small, short-haired, blue-eyed, five-year-old boy looking through his telescope at his window. He gazed at the stars freely. His imagination was bursting out of his heart as he hopefully and anxiously pictured all those other worlds out there, wishing he could go to them.
He usually peered through the telescope with his right eye, but tonight he looked with his left, for his right was bloody and swollen. His knees were scraped; his soul desolate.
Behind him, the sound of his door slightly creaking open interrupted his thoughts as his mother pushed it open all the way.
“Hi, Mommy,” the young boy said.
“Hey,” she replied, “I’m sorry I was late picking you up today, honey.”
“It’s okay…”
“It’s not okay. Look at what those boys did to you.”
“They woulda’ done it anyway….” Dashuri spoke quietly as he kept looking at the stars.
The pale blue and yellow-painted walls of his room were covered with various decorations, ranging from posters of sports stars to celestial charts. Toys, games, and papers used for writing stories layered the tan carpet. The fan spun quietly and slowly, as if it was peacefully dying. His two bookshelves were filled with comics, puzzle books, and children’s literature pieces such as The Magic Tree House, Geronimo Stilton, and Reddy Freddy.
“Why were you late, Mommy?”
“I had an important meeting with my publisher, sweetie.”
“Pub-lish-er?”
“I’ll explain it to you when you’re older…”
Dashuri turned back to his telescope and focused in on the biggest, brightest dot in the vast, freckled dark.
“Hey, what’s that star?”
“Which one, Dash?” His mother walked over and took his place behind the telescope.
“That one.” He pointed at it.
“Hmm, it’s probably Venus.”
“Can humans go there?”
“Not yet, but maybe someday…. Perhaps, you could be the first.”
“I want to do that.” Dashuri again looked through the telescope. “I want to go to a star, and stay there forever.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like this world. It’s mean.”
“Why don’t you try to make this one nicer?”
“I can’t.”
“Of course you can.”
“But it’s not my fault. It’s everyone else’s. I just want friends. Friends are only on a better world.” He rubbed at the lens of the telescope. “I want to live in a better world, a nicer world,” he said peering through the telescope again.
“When you’re an adult, baby, you’ll have more friends than you could ever want.”
“Really?”
“I promise. With hard work and faith, you can do anything… Except convince your mother to let you stay up past your bedtime.”
“But Mom…”
“It’s a school night, Dash.”
“Can you at least read me a story?”
“Of course I will.”
Dashuri’s mother pulled his blue Buzz Lightyear sheets over him, and opened another fairy tale. Dashuri always laughed when she read it to him. Her delivery was perfect.
His mother put the book away and stood at the door frame saying, “Goodnight, Dashuri.”
“Goodnight, Mommy.”
He fell asleep quickly, dreaming about all the worlds the universe holds. And, there was one world, many galaxies away . . . .
###
Editor: Brennan Nick
By Poet Blogger Peter Kadel
She’s it! She’s it! She’s the one!
She is gonna be my one and only.
We’ll share a kiss in hallways between classes,
Milkshakes at diners, and midnight movies.
She’s Miss American Dream.
Right now, I’m nobody, but, one day, I’ll be her knight in shining armour–
Her love story cliché, the boy, the boyfriend.
One step at a time, and then she is mine.
She’s Miss American Dream.
She just needs some convincing; she’ll see I’m right.
Those other guys may be taller, and smoother, and stronger–
But I’m the chosen one, like Anakin without the dark side.
I’ll be the bearer of the one ring to woo them all–
Just not as nerdy as that sounds.
She’s Miss American Dream.
She didn’t break my heart–I’m NOT crying!
It’s fine–she didn’t slap me that hard.
I’ll move on, as soon as I learn how.
Who needs Miss American Dream?
Editor: Brennan Nick
Reading and Interpretation By Charles Schnell
Somber, subtle poems catch my attention and stimulate thought. Below is a recording of my reading of “One Had Lived in a Room and Loved Nothing” by Charles Fort–a somber, subtle, and stimulating poem.
One Had Lived in a Room and Loved Nothing
One had lived in a room and loved nothing.
Full of spiders and what memory remained,
one had loved and she had forgotten things.
Clock stopped and aeroplane lost in the dark,
and who was that voice on the telephone?
One had lived in a room and loved nothing.
It was a rare sleep in helter-skelter;
one awakened a half-blessed and charmed fool.
One had loved and she had forgotten things.
One had lived in a room and loved nothing.
Whose tiffany ring on her ring finger;
who gave one mantis kiss as the jazz played?
The faceless lover and last known address,
a writing pad and table overturned,
one had loved and she had forgotten things.
What was day or night with no hours left
and who were the two in the photograph?
One had loved and she had forgotten things.
One had lived in a room and loved nothing.
Charles Fort
This poem is a “villanelle.” A villanelle is a nineteen-line poem where the first and third lines of every stanza are the same, but they alternate places with every stanza. Every stanza is three lines long excluding the last one, which is four lines–the final two lines of that stanza are the first and third lines that have been repeating throughout the rest of the poem. In this poem, “one had lived in a room and loved nothing” and “one had loved and she had forgotten things” are those alternating lines.
When I first read the poem, I interpreted the poem as describing the tragic case of a woman who has now developed dementia. There are many signs of her not being able to remember something that she should be remembering, something important from her pre-dementia past: for instance, there is the unknown “voice on the telephone” (who I think is a family member) and the unknown “two in the photograph” (perhaps she and her husband or child). The poem speaks with a desolate, isolated voice. The images are empty, as if something is missing or wrong with the picture. This incompleteness sells the idea of something mis-remembered or gone.
I look up another person’s opinion online, and they thought the poem was supposed to represent a disconnect from the world. This could be a person without any disorders or the like, but rather just someone who is in a room that she has lived in for so long, for some reason suffering, that she has become unfeeling now. Very smart interpretation, I think.
If you would like to read this poem and many more like this, consider picking up Edward Hirsch’s and David Lehman’s The Best American Poetry 2016. The anthology contains lovely poetry: https://www.amazon.com/Best-American-Poetry-2016/dp/150112756X.
Here’s that other person’s interpretation I mentioned: https://ashberyland.com/2017/10/12/completely-subjective-charles-forts-one-had-lived-in-a-room-and-loved-nothing/.
Here’s where “One Had Live In A Room and Loved Nothing” was originally published: http://greenmountainsreview.com/two-poems-14/.
Editor: Peter Kadel
By Renée
As Thanksgiving came and went along with Black Friday’s mindless shopping sprees and the eating of unhealthy portions, I mulled over the peculiarities of U.S. traditions. I was born in Mexico. And, in my foreigner’s curiosity, I decided to research other curious customs of the U.S. Here is my top 10 list of curious U.S. customs (along with my very helpful commentary). Enjoy.
Curious Customs from America
Editor: Brennan Nick
Public Service Announcement created by Brennan Nick and Charles Schnell
The Crucible opens tomorrow! There are shows scheduled for December 1, 2, 3, 8, and 9! On the 3rd is the afternoon matinee at 2 p.m. The rest of the shows will start at 7:30 p.m., with the house opening at 7 p.m. General seats cost $15 a piece, while priority reserved seats are $20 each.
The Crucible is a play written by Arthur Miller that takes place in Salem, Massachusetts, in the year 1692 during the Salem Witch Trials. Salem at the time is a distant corner of the world on the fringes of both civilization and the dark wilderness where the Bible is the law and the citizens believe unquestionably in its teachings. A teenage girl begins accusing others of being conquered by the Devil and committing themselves to witchcraft, and the village becomes consumed by fear and religious zeal.
Arthur Miller lived in a similar time of fear–a fear of communism which pervaded in the early 50’s and was known as McCarthyism. Miller wrote this play to provide a parallel world to the one he and his peers were living through. Today, the play is considered by many scholars to be one of the great pieces of American literature.
This production is directed by Ken Sarkis, Kim Phillips, and Craig Gahnz. The Blog Staff are very excited to see it (or act in it), and we hope to see you there, too!
Edited by Peter Kadel and Claire Jenkins
By Renée
Words have feeling.
Words have power.
Words can turn the best to the worst.
Words can form the deepest wounds.
Words have feeling.
Words have power.
Words can turn the worst to the best.
Words can heal the deepest wounds.
Words have souls.
They are part of ours.
Editor Charles Schnell