Meeting The Queen and Other General Updates From London

Hello! So —

I have been in London for just over a month now and I wish I could tell you guys that I’ve been doing loads of beauty-related things. The reality is that I’ve been busy getting used to just surviving here and adjusting to school. It’s all going great, but it’s been a bit hectic. Anyway, the highlight of my month was definitely beauty-related: I met THE Lisa Eldridge at a book signing event! It was crazy. Let me tell you all about it and I’ll fill you in on a few other, less important,  things at the end — because really, what is more important than meeting Lisa Eldridge?

The Day I Met The Queen (Of Makeup)

IMG_2711Lisa hosted a signing for her new book, Face Paint: The Story of Makeup, at Hatchard’s in London. I made my way over to the book store right after my classes for the day ended and I was early so I milled around a bit before we were allowed to start queueing at 5pm. 

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Poem IOU

I totally forgot to post a poem for Wednesday this week! Oh well, better late than never. We were in the air for most of Wednesday and were hurriedly packing before that. Since it’s late, why not go for a sort of lengthy one! This poem reminds me of freshman year. Such a pretty rhythmic sound!

Dover Beach

by Matthew Arnold

The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

About the post title: “IOU” totally reminds me of all the cartoons I used to watch as a kid. I found it hilarious that “U” should be used in place of “Y” for “you.” I know right, what a sense of humor! haha. I also thought that “dumb” was spelled as “dum.” Blame Looney Toons!

I meant to post an American poet since I’m in the U.S. now, but it didn’t feel right for some reason. Expect some William Carlos Williams or Ezra Pound next week! The modernists are slowly becoming my loves. New posts to come! I haven’t really been able to take photos of anything. Hehe

e.e.

From now on, Wednesday will be poetry day. I will make it a point not to go into lengthy critiques and analyses of the poem, because I do that at school (and by myself) and I don’t want to scare anyone away. The point is really just to share either an old favourite poem or a new poem that I like, and to let the poem and/or poet be in the limelight. This is a poem by Edward Estlin Cummings, who I love because of his play on syntax. His poems are deceptively modernist on first read, but he’s actually quite traditional when it comes to subject matter and even form. Enjoy!

 

8

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another’s, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be, i say if this should be —
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

 

What a haunting last image. This was taken from “100 Selected Poems” of e.e. Cummings, published by the Grove Press, 1959. There’s a number 8 because it’s the eighth in the collection. haha

My Heart Rouses


The above is excerpted from William Carlos Williams’s poem “Asphodel, That Greeny Flower.” The poem in its entirety is also great, I encourage you to read it. I only shared this passage from it because it is also the passage that Dana Gioia cites in her essay on poetry, “Can Poetry Matter?” written in 1992. It’s a great essay to read for those who are concerned with poetry– both writing and reading it. Even those who aren’t, actually. It was a bit of a downer for me, since it talks about contemporary poetry in America and how it has essentially become an enclosed community of ass-kissing colleagues. Doesn’t help much that I think it reflects the state of Philippine poetry with shocking precision–I suppose poets are the same all over?

Gioia does end on a positive note, though, and her suggestions for the restoration of poetry to public culture are solid and encouraging. I won’t list them down or anything. If you’d like to read it (and I encourage you to), heres a link: Can Poetry Matter?

I do think I will start a poem of the week sort of thing. Thanks, Gioia, you definitely roused my heart.

Do read the poem, by the way. :)

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