tuckova

ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things

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Interests: Alfons Mucha, Archibald Leach, big words, Bob Hicok, Brian Eno, Cat Power, Charles Bukowski, Charlotte Masaryk, cheese, clarity, dark chocolate, David Byrne, David Foster Wallace, Dorothy Parker, Douglas Adams, Edna St. Vincent Millay, E.E. Cummings, Frank O’Hara, Fred Rogers, garlic, Gaudi, Gertrude Stein, ginger, Gustav Klimt, Iva Pekarkova, Jane Austen, Jaromir Nohavica, Jeanette Winterson, Josef Skvorecky, Joseph Campbell, Joss Whedon, Just a Minute, Kate Bush, Kurt Vonnegut, laughing until it hurts, Laurie Anderson, Leonard Cohen, little kids singing, Lloyd Alexander, mandarin oranges, making lists, Margaret Atwood, Miss Manners, New Yorker, Paul Simon, performance, P.G. Wodehouse, poetry, Rebecca Solnit, Rob Brezsny, Robert Anton Wilson, Robert Creeley, salt, Salvador Dali, secrets, silence, Star Trek, Stephen Dunn, Talking Heads, Terry Gilliam, things that stain, This American Life, Tom Waits, T.S. Eliot, vegetable juice, veiled cultural references, vinegar, water, wine, W.H. Auden

Category: THINKING

  • it didn’t hurt

    Getting up off the mat upon which I learned to fall, back when it was closer, when the ground kissed me and it felt like hello, now so much more difficult, every fall a reminder of bones, joints, a reminder of pain. I know it looks more natural when I really fall, when I do…

  • oil can what

    You're standing in a garden, abandoned since that rainstorm, fixed in place. The world grows around you. Nobody remembers that you were there, nobody knows what you were working on, nobody cares, or has cared for years, other than you. You still care, though, so you spend the days watching the flowers grow and wishing…

  • desolate

    You stumble into the room on legs that do not belong to you, though the pain is certainly yours. Collapse fetal on the floor and a scream rips from your throat, arches up and falls back on a cascade of sobs so raw they embarrass you. Weeping into your knees, so humiliating and so unstoppable,…

  • WWMRD?

    What was it like for you? I think about it a lot; I think about it daily. What was it like to take off the costume of a colder more distant possible you, take off the cruel shoes polished with such care? Surely part of you knew that one joy of your life was taking…

  • lighter matters

    This was the first time we drove down to Southern California, to see the places where he'd grown up, the childhood bedroom, the university housing where his best friend from high school was living with four other uberbrains. They had a white board that covered a whole wall, and a section of the board was…

  • eitheror

    I can't tell whether you're a bad actor or a good actor pretending to be a liar. I can't tell whether you're lying with your words or your actions. I can't tell whether you're acting or performing. I can't tell if you're a performer or an artist. I can't tell whether you're a good artist…

  • Stingers

    That one secret. You know the one. The one you can't tell because everything will fall apart. It sits on your chest at night, a squatting horrible homunculus. Presses the air from your lungs. Crouches in the back of your throat and tastes like tears. You learn to lie around it, to speak lightly, to…

  • quite contrary

    Oh you and your well-tended garden. The flowers that bloom and fade and bloom again, perennials and annuals though you can never remember which is which, the giant tulip bulbs you unearth in the winter and push back under the willing dirt in the spring, don't you know that it's rude to keep your tulips…

  • country feedback

    This was maybe the summer of 95, living in the apartment near where Napoleon plotted that famous battle that gets replayed every year, the actors falling to the ground again. This film is on a maddening loop. I don't remember much; or I remember so much but this memory comes to me like a series of snapshots,…

  • made for walking

    I wake to the memory of the smell of you so real I can't believe you're not there, or rather here, where I am. Here with me. Your scent not the sole thing that comes to me and wakes me from dreams. How your skin looked in the light from a storm, how it felt when you…