January 2019
Vol. IX, No. 1

January 2019

“Pray for the grace of accuracy/Vermeer gave to the sun’s illumination/stealing like the tide across a map/to his girl solid with yearning./We are poor passing facts,/warned by that to give/each figure in the photograph/his living name.”

Robert Lowell, from “Epilogue

“Nami To Tsuru Fuku/A Thousand Cranes,” detail, woodblock print, by Kayama Matazō, 1927-2004.

“Nami To Tsuru Fuku/A Thousand Cranes,” detail, woodblock print, by Kayama Matazō, 1927-2004.

“Woman Combing Her Hair, Hashiguchi Goyo, Taisho-era woodblock print; ink and color on paper.

Elizabeth Boleman-Herring: Our magazines (tireless, long-suffering) Assistant Editor, engineer Tim Bayer, starts us off with a January surprise: video footage detailing the just and hysterical desserts of doorstep package-theft. Then, our newest columnist, Chiara-Sophia Coyle, writes, Emulsion Transfers came into my own life during a very long, cold (California cold) and wet winter in the 90s. I had recently moved to California—a single parent, with very few friends, certainly no baby sitter nor the funds to pay for one. My whole being was aching for Motherland Greece. I found a way to reconnect with home through my photographic images; exploring Emulsion Transfers in the kitchen of my small apartment. In that cold winter blossomed Coyles work as a photographer and printer, and we are most happy to share her vision, on a monthly basis, with Weekly Hubriss readers. Writer and poet, bi-national Don Schofield is also new here in January, contributing a column about the waves of Middle Eastern refugees washing up on Greeces holiday beaches, collateral damage from Americas now-endless war. (And, if you have somehow not been paying attention to the apocalypse on our shared human shoreline, Dr. Guy McPherson fearlessly reports, yet again, from that front, in his latest dispatch, Pressum Diem.”) Childrens author Burt Kempner, from a teleologically safe place, speaks for whale and boy; boy and whale. Anita Sullivan, who also refuses to go gentle into any good-night, recalls with mirth Ogden Nash and The Flying Purple-People Eater. Favorite Foodie Diana Farr Louis provides comfort (plus recipes) for this winter of our discontent. William A. Balk, Jr. reprises perhaps his loveliest of meditations, on eau-de-vie de pomme, etc. Dr. Skip Eisiminger provides us a fascinating look/listen (complete with videos) at the otherworldly glass harmonica, and related instruments. Poet Claire Bateman shares the work of fellow poet Rick Mulkey. The Reverend Robin White explores Psalm 22, and the necessity of lamentation. Cartoonist Mark Addison Kershaw offers for our wistful pleasure five single-panel cartoons. And Ross Konikoff recounts posing nude, late in life, for a Life Drawing class in Manhattan. I bring up the rear with a remembrance of one of my most gifted teachers . . . the one-legged Yogini.

It glitters. It smells. It's f-n beautiful!

It glitters. It smells. Its f-n beautiful!

Won Over By Reality

“Porch Pirate Payback,” By Tim Bayer

BRIGHTON New York(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—The tracking lists your package as delivered. However, there is nothing waiting by the front door. A check of your security video resolves the mystery. Your package was delivered . . . and then it was stolen. If you are Mark Rober, this demands an ingenious engineering response. It’s time for porch pirate payback (and fart spray). YESSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!! (Read more . . .)



Clicks & Relativity

“Greece on Emulsion Transfers,” By Chiara-Sophia Coyle

OAKLAND California—(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—The legend maintains that Polaroid Emulsion Transfers were discovered by chance in the early 1960s when a Polaroid technician testing batches of the new peel-apart chemistry left the negative portion face-down on a white countertop. The following morning, when the technician peeled back the dry negative, he realized that the test image had been transferred to the countertop as a positive. (Read more . . .)

Abandoned dinghy, Kos, Greece.

Abandoned dinghy, Kos, Greece.

Broken Oars

“Imagination’s Favors,” By Don Schofield

THESSALONIKI Greece—(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—It’s been a little over three years since I traveled to the Greek island of Kos to join other volunteers in assisting refugees making the treacherous night-journey from Turkey in overcrowded dinghies. By now, the “refugee crisis,” as the powers that be have dubbed it, has receded from the headlines, even though thousands are still living in squalid, fenced-in camps in Greece, and tens of thousands more in other camps throughout Europe. And the destitute and desperate keep arriving. (Read more . . .)

The K-Pg Boundary, all that remains of the burgeoning life on Earth prior to the Cretaceous-Paleogene Extinction Event.

The K-Pg Boundary.

Going Dark

“Pressum Diem,” By Dr. Guy McPherson

WESTCHESTER COUNTY New York—(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—Imagine you’re listening to the radio as you gaze at the horizon out your fourth-floor window. You see a mushroom cloud and immediately recognize it. You realize that the 20-foot-long I-beam spinning toward you will strike you dead in three seconds. There is no way to escape. You simply wait. But . . . you have miscalculated the path of the I-beam. It sails clear, narrowly missing the roof above your head.  (Read more . . .)

"Time," by Gediminas Pranckevičius.

“Time,” by Gediminas Pranckevičius.

Pinhead Angel 

“BeachedBy Burt Kempner

GAINESVILLE Florida—(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—The prophetic boy walked along the beach, wreathed in thought, so much so that he almost missed the dark form sprawled on the sand. It was a young pilot whale, breathing heavily. “Don’t panic, my brother, “ the boy said. “I’ll run back to the village and return with enough people to push you back into the water.” “No.” A voiced sounded in the boy’s head. “No, let me stay here.” “But surely you will die.” (Read more . . .)

Flying Purple-People Eater (Image by FootyBandit.deviantart.com on @deviantART)

Flying Purple-People Eater.

On The Other Hand

“How to Escape the Flu & Other Responsibilities,” By Anita Sullivan

EUGENE Oregon—(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—My parents expected me to become an English teacher, and I tried mightily to please them but, in this regard at least, I failed. Lack of good teachers as role models was not my excuse: I was extremely well taught—or perhaps I should say tutored—in all subjects, by my parents. My father’s patience, for example, not only got me through algebra and trigonometry, but his command of the English language was such that he took pleasure in writing short witty pieces for non-academic publications and actually relished turning his mind to literary questions from his only daughter . . .  (Read more . . .)

Ezra Pound and Olga Rudge.

Ezra Pound and Olga Rudge.

Eating Well Is The Best Revenge

“Recipes for Comfort of the Wintry Soul,” By Diana Farr Louis

ATHENS Greece—(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—Even though I majored in English Literature in college, I was never fond of Ezra Pound’s poetry (or politics). Even though T. S. Eliot dedicated “The Waste Land” to him, calling him il miglior fabbro—the best maker—because of his valuable editing (and playing on the original Greek meaning of the word poietes, maker/creator/poet), to me his work remained impenetrable with its ideograms, obscure references, and lines in Provençal. But there was one poem that tickled me and was perfectly comprehensible despite being in his version of Olde English, his parody of the medieval ditty, “Summer is icummen in, Lhude sing Cuckoo.” (Read more . . .)

George Loring Brown, “Still Life with Brown Jug.”

George Loring Brown, “Still Life with Brown Jug.”

Epicurus’ Porch

“Imbibing Spirits (Revived),” By William A. Balk, Jr.

BEAUFORT South Carolina—(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—Jean-Marie had been promoted to the Washington, DC, bureau for French national television from his reporter role back in Auvergne. We met sitting at a Spanish bar on P Street, and I quickly learned he shared my yearning for our similar rural roots. Lacking a comfortable command of English, Jean-Marie felt isolated and alone, and he found it difficult to make friends and develop a social life even in a cosmopolitan city such as Washington. Our shared appreciation for rolling countryside and people who were close to the land made conversation and, eventually, friendship relatively easy. (Read more . . .)

William Zeitler, on the glass armonica.

William Zeitler, on the glass armonica.

Skip the B.S.

“Music of the Spheres: The Glass Harmonica,” By Skip Eisiminger

CLEMSON South Carolina—(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—As early perhaps as 400 BC, the author of the Kama Sutra, the Indian guide to a full, rich life, advised young women to study the jal-tarang. This percussion instrument originally consisted of a dozen or more ceramic bowls, each of which was filled to a carefully prescribed level, and whose rims were then rhythmically struck with mallets. It might have been called the “liquid xylophone,” but the only wood was in the mallets. The Sanskrit name for the instrument means “waves of water,” a reference to the ripples on the water’s surface created when each bowl was struck. Because the sound was so sensuous, some critics worried that the instrument might rob milk from lactating mothers. (Read more . . .)

Rick Mulkey.

Poet Rick Mulkey.

Speculative Friction

“The Poetry of Rick Mulkey,By Claire Bateman

GREENVILLE South Carolina—(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—Rick Mulkey is the author of five poetry collections including, Ravenous: New & Selected PoemsToward Any DarknessBluefield Breakdown, and Before the Age of Reason. Individual poems and essays have appeared in Poet LoreCrab Orchard ReviewThe Literary ReviewSouth Carolina ReviewPoetry EastThe Georgia Review, and Poetry Daily, among others. He currently directs and teaches in the low-residency MFA program at Converse College. (Read more . . .)

The Lamenting Angel of Crucifixion.

The Lamenting Angel of Crucifixion.

Wing + Prayer

“Honest to God: Psalm 22,” By Robin White

LAKE HARTWELL South Carolina—(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” These words of lament from Psalm 22 generally appear in the Good Friday liturgy, though the psalm does come up in the Revised Common Lectionary at other times of the year. The thoughts and feelings that color this or any Lament may be difficult for us to hear, especially in the context of worship. These words of anger and grief challenge us, emotionally, intellectually, and in the context of our faith. (Read more . . .)


“Much Fahdodo About Nothing,” By Mark Kershaw

ATLANTA Georgia—(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—It was requested of me to add a paragraph along with my visual contributions here, as an enhancement to those images because they are sorely lacking words. And I welcome this opportunity because, frankly, I have a lot of important things to say on a lot of important topics. As James Thurber probably said on a first date, “I’m so glad you’re a reader: I’m just full of words and images.” (Read more . . .)

“Three Studies for a Crucifixion,” by Francis Bacon, 1962.

“Three Studies for a Crucifixion,” by Francis Bacon, 1962.

West Side Stories

“Posing Nude for Life Drawing Class,” By Ross Konikoff

MANHATTAN New York—(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019—I have, as of last week, been modeling nude for a figure drawing class with students of varying degrees of proficiency. It all started when Deborah told me of her desire to add drawing to her long list of graphic arts skills. Life drawing classes teach the faithful rendering onto paper of the human form in all ranges, from highly detailed, anatomically correct depictions, to loose and expressive gesture drawing. I thought Deborah’s aspirations to be admirable, but when asked if I would like to join her, I demurred, having a purely prurient interest in looking at naked girls, and none whatsoever in observing the male form, least of all some flabby, out-of-shape one. (Read more . . .)

B.K.S. Iyengar teaching Sirsasana. (Photo: India Today.)

B.K.S. Iyengar teaching Sirsasana.

By Way of Being

“The One-Legged Yogini,” By Elizabeth Boleman-Herring

PENDLETON South Carolina(Weekly Hubris)—January 2019— After an almost-30-year relationship with Yoga, I still pride myself on many things, and priding oneself on many things is like walking through a completely darkened room where there is a lot of small, sharp-cornered furniture located precisely at shin-height. One of the things I habitually pride myself on is my almost-spook-like intuition about others’ intentions/abilities/challenges. I like to think I “read” people pretty well. (Ahh, you might say: then how in the world did she marry two closeted homosexuals?) Pride goeth before a fall. Many prides goeth before many falls . . . and I have the bruises on my shins to prove it. (Read more . . .)

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