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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 4 of 4. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Jai Narayan on August 18, 2004, at 7:20:20
From 'A Coney Island of the Mind'
Number 20by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
The pennycandystore beyond the El
is where I first
fell in love
with unreality
Jellybeans glowed in the semi-gloom
of that september afternoon
A cat upon the counter moved among
the licorice sticks
and tootsie rolls
and Oh Boy GumOutside the leaves were falling as they died
A wind had blown away the sun
A girl ran in
Her hair was rainy
Her breasts were breathless in the little roomOutside the leaves were falling
and they cried
Too soon! too soon!This was one of my mother's favorite books of poems. Whenever this book would appear on our table mom would be on her way to the other place were we little ones couldn't follow.
The book, hysteria, her dramatic exit...loss. So much trauma then the tense silence as we would await her return.
Jai Narayan the nail biter
Posted by Atticus on August 18, 2004, at 9:13:47
In reply to 'A Coney Island of the Mind', posted by Jai Narayan on August 18, 2004, at 7:20:20
A powerful, compact poem, and, of course, I love the rich visual description; it's right up my alley. When I slipped in and out of bouts with depression before the great crash-and-burn of 1996, I never really was aware it was coming. There was just this vague sense of melancholy that I'd wake up with every day at first, which deeped into gloom. The storm always crept in with such stealth that I was in the middle of it before I knew what had happened. Now I do monitor my moods pretty carefully for any sign that the meds might not be holding up. It's always interesting to read posts of yours like this because I get greater insight into what it's like for those on the outside watching the process unfold in terms of behavior and signifiers that a big nor'easter is coming. From my place in the eye of the storm, it was always hard to tell what the winds I was churning up were doing to those unlucky enough to be in my vicinity. I'd get glimpses, but no real comprehension.
The other fascinating thing about this poem is that it plays to what I see as a cultural aspect of the Irish persona; a grief over something or someone lost. In my case, obviously, it's both Alyssa and my pre-1996 self, although increasingly I think that my younger self was far less healthy mentally than I've long believed. In your case, it's your mother slipping away into the dark lands of the mindscape. Thank you for sharing this poem with me, and what it means to you. :) Atticus
Posted by Jai Narayan on August 18, 2004, at 19:37:53
In reply to Re: 'A Coney Island of the Mind' » Jai Narayan, posted by Atticus on August 18, 2004, at 9:13:47
As a child, sister and mate to people who have had and are having ongoing mental challenges...yes I am a great observer. I know a lot. There is always a "tell" (do you know what the word tell means?). I am programed to sense the impending changes. I know so much on such a deep level about mental illness.
I must say your response to me was so sweet that it warms my heart. I am touched. really, really.
Jai Narayan who now is wearing nail polish to make her fingers look real pretty now (no biting I promise)
Posted by vwoolf on August 21, 2004, at 14:08:54
In reply to Re: 'A Coney Island of the Mind', posted by Jai Narayan on August 18, 2004, at 19:37:53
You know - I have a son. Sometimes when I go into his room in the morning, to get him up for school, on cold, dark days, before I even say a word, he sits up and says "What's wrong, Mom?" How does he know?
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