"Why are we so intellectually dismissive towards narrative?" he asks. "Why are we inclined to treat it as rather a trashy, if entertaining, way of thinking about and talking about what we do with our minds? Storytelling performs the dual cultural functions of making the strange familiar and ourselves private and distinctive. If pupils are encouraged to think about the different outcomes that could have resulted from a set of circumstances, they are demonstrating useability of knowledge about a subject. Rather than just retaining knowledge and facts, they go beyond them to use their imaginations to think about other outcomes, as they don't need the completion of a logical argument to understand a story. This helps them to think about facing the future, and it stimulates the teacher too."


From Jerome Bruner
Interview by John Crace
The Guardian
March 26, 2007

A woman now
Too broke to buy back the girl you stole
Too broken to try

Asleep now
where the flawless you,
the wreckless,
breathless you
after a long rest
in the crevices, the chasms
manifests
Vibrant
Pencil-perfect
Pristine
With an aura of ardor,
the accomplice

The three of you in hiding
No ransom
No statute of limitations

Aware now
One can't steal
what is readily abandoned.

Wanted: Wiles of a Woman

It was fleeting,
the fantasy
To think that I could
really have it
Every preceding step
leading to the life
I had envisioned for two decades,
Mais non
Behind the scenes
raw footage
year after year
a documentary
intractable words
harsh lighting
Oh, but for those glimpses
the trailers
so enticing
Could this really be?
The downy comforter and solid,
cherry wood head board
Are those my children?
I map it all out
Figure the finances
And that's just it...
There are no spreadsheets in fantasies.
Fleeting
Foolish
Fool
When another woman will
place every card on the table
and mine are still in the deck
stuffed in the back of the junk drawer
in the kitchenette
of a duplex
in suburbia
She wins.
But I like my card deck.
My grandmother told my fortune
with this card deck
On Rendon St.
As she dropped teaspoons of her chicory coffee
into my milk
and pretended that when I broke the deck into three neat piles
that every number and face brought light
despite the spades
Fiction.
Make believe.
When all else is fleeting...
when passions
trump what could be
I still have story.
The other woman has one who weakens
at any woman's wiles.
She's but an extra.
Replaceable.
The leading lady
never gives up.

Zaz - La pluie

Zaz - La pluie

Dieu Merci pour la pluie...En ce jour de dimanche d' octobre.
A mon ami de mon passé... merci pour Zaz.