(aka Maik Strosahl)
Through the magic and literary trickery of Moristotleland, “Hobnobbing with the Philosophers” hasn’t missed a Wednesday, even though it has been a couple weeks since I wrote anything for submission.
Things are changing a bit for me. First, I returned to the road on May 1. Some personal responsibilities resolved themselves, and an opportunity came to clear up some of the nagging financial baggage I carry by going back to driving, still with the same company.
And since I am back on the road, I felt I should return to the original banner for my weekly posts—“Highways and Byways.” I do like the alternate banner, though, and I plan to use “Hobnobbing with the Philosophers” for one of three book projects—two of mine and a third book that is a collaboration with…well let’s not give all the surprises away at once. I got a lot organized while home the last five months and just need to get the files finished and sent off to the appropriate book wizards. Perhaps later in ’23?
A friend of mine, while sending me the word “quaquaversal” as another possible prompt to inspire my creative mind, noted that my email had been coming to him with the header name spelled as “MIChaEl sTROsahl.”
“What is MICETRO?” he asked.
As a child, I played around with my name a lot. I never liked “Mike” as a nickname for Michael, originally complaining that there should be no ‘k’.
At one point, I convinced my younger sister Marianne to join me in rebellion against our very common nicknames, agreeing to spell it our own way—“Miće” and “Mari.” Mine I discovered does not sound quite right and didn’t work; hers did and she still uses it to this day.
As I tried again and played around with the letters of my first and last name, I discovered that by deleting all duplicated letters I could come up with a nickname that sounded like “Maestro.” I couldn’t get anybody to use the nickname for me, but I did adopt it as a way to refer to my creative essence. That is how MICETRO came about.
I have used it in various places, including an email address, but most people seem to think I am just poor at spelling, so I decided a while ago to show where it comes from in the header.
My email friend decided to play along with Micetro to see what he could do with his own name. Thus the nickname for another creative essence was born: “Wosden.” (I am told you might meet him later.)
As to finding a nickname I could be comfortable with, I finally settled on “Maik,” a German spelling I went with to keep my visiting relatives from calling me “Mickey” (which is how they pronounced “Mike”). You may note I apparently got over my problem with the ‘k’.
The following poem was inspired by the wandering email conversation that day and the next that started with the word “quaquaversal.”
Of the Fruit, Good and Bad
—for Wosden
Perhaps it is
that piece of fruit
lodged sideways in our throat,
the exploration and
taking control of
what we determine as
good and bad,
the sin of knowledge
that makes us cum
Back to the surface for air,
the struggle to survive
on our own
without the guidance
of a designer or
provided blueprint,
inserting tab A into slot B
while others fold,
preferring origami,
or turning upsides down.
Perhaps it is that deception
and her willing accomplice
learning the forbidden,
teaching lessons
to the next generation
of unhearing ears—
the know-it-alls and
I-will-figure-it-outs,
fruitful and filling the earth.
Perhaps we sapient
have peaked
and now descend
quaquaversal from our apex,
equally missing the mark,
copies from copies,
machines built by
fleshy machines,
bound to event fail,
growing silent in our decay,
worms getting fat
on what we thought we knew.
But I,
I still feel the pangs,
still feel the yearn,
a lust for the apple
and for my eyes
to be opened
wider.
As a child, I played around with my name a lot. I never liked “Mike” as a nickname for Michael, originally complaining that there should be no ‘k’.
At one point, I convinced my younger sister Marianne to join me in rebellion against our very common nicknames, agreeing to spell it our own way—“Miće” and “Mari.” Mine I discovered does not sound quite right and didn’t work; hers did and she still uses it to this day.
As I tried again and played around with the letters of my first and last name, I discovered that by deleting all duplicated letters I could come up with a nickname that sounded like “Maestro.” I couldn’t get anybody to use the nickname for me, but I did adopt it as a way to refer to my creative essence. That is how MICETRO came about.
I have used it in various places, including an email address, but most people seem to think I am just poor at spelling, so I decided a while ago to show where it comes from in the header.
My email friend decided to play along with Micetro to see what he could do with his own name. Thus the nickname for another creative essence was born: “Wosden.” (I am told you might meet him later.)
As to finding a nickname I could be comfortable with, I finally settled on “Maik,” a German spelling I went with to keep my visiting relatives from calling me “Mickey” (which is how they pronounced “Mike”). You may note I apparently got over my problem with the ‘k’.
The following poem was inspired by the wandering email conversation that day and the next that started with the word “quaquaversal.”
Of the Fruit, Good and Bad
—for Wosden
Perhaps it is
that piece of fruit
lodged sideways in our throat,
the exploration and
taking control of
what we determine as
good and bad,
the sin of knowledge
that makes us cum
Back to the surface for air,
the struggle to survive
on our own
without the guidance
of a designer or
provided blueprint,
inserting tab A into slot B
while others fold,
preferring origami,
or turning upsides down.
Perhaps it is that deception
and her willing accomplice
learning the forbidden,
teaching lessons
to the next generation
of unhearing ears—
the know-it-alls and
I-will-figure-it-outs,
fruitful and filling the earth.
Perhaps we sapient
have peaked
and now descend
quaquaversal from our apex,
equally missing the mark,
copies from copies,
machines built by
fleshy machines,
bound to event fail,
growing silent in our decay,
worms getting fat
on what we thought we knew.
But I,
I still feel the pangs,
still feel the yearn,
a lust for the apple
and for my eyes
to be opened
wider.
| Copyright © 2023 by Michael E. (Maik) Strosahl Maik has focused on poetry for over twenty years, during which time he served a term as President of the Poetry Society of Indiana. He relocated to Jefferson City, Missouri, in 2018 and currently co-hosts a writers group there. |
Micetro, than you for today’s posting. “MIChaEl sTROsahl” is an inventive way to render one’s name. I’d be “MoRIStotLE” by the same maneuver. Do you think “Mrisle” captures my creative essence? I am, I think, kind of grizzly. There’s surely something to this.
ReplyDeletePerhaps you aren’t reading it right. Could it be Mr. Isle? Are you keeping yourself afloat while the sea waters rise all around?
ReplyDeleteMicetro, now that I have been introduced, I will proceed with a piece I have been working on since you alerted me a few weeks ago. Tomorrow, perhaps.
ReplyDeleteIt’s curious, don’t you think, that Moristotle thought of “grizzly” for his “Mrisle” rather than the more faithful word “grisly”? Or maybe he (consciously or unconsciously) rejected “grisly” because it means ”inspiring horror or intense fear”? We all know that “grisly” could never be attributed to Moristotle’s creative essence!
Oh, dear maestro Micetro, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, for rescuing me from the “grizzly” association and, even better, from the “grisly” one! I LOVE “Mr. Isle,” which seems perfect for Moristotle & Co.’s editor in chief. Not to mention keeping afloat, which some days I seem barely able to manage.
ReplyDeleteIf we include my middle name and eliminate all the duplicated letters it would leave me with PNRO, we'll not comment on where my mind unscrambled that
ReplyDeleteAre you trying to tempt us to “reverse engineer” to try to guess your first, last, and middle names?
Delete