Catching Tigers in Red Weather

As an English teacher, I'm often asked what my favorite book is. I sometimes tell people I have many. That is true. Equally as often, I make something up. You know -- just for fun. Really, what difference does it make? Are they any more likely to actually think that because I like the book, they should go read it? If my theory holds, they are no less likely to look for and become disappointed trying to find a book that I made up. Give it a shot. Next time a person asks you what your favorite book say something like "I just read Next October by Emmanuel Gildtren . It is amazing and hauntingly familiar." I am willing to wager that not one person will ever come back two days later and say "You shamblanker. I searched everywhere including the interweb, and that is categorically a farce of a book." First, they won't say that because shamblanker isn't a word -- yet. Second, they didn't really want a book recommendation to begin with. Third, when you say something like "hauntingly familiar" people get intimidated even though it doesn't mean anything. Neat trick huh?

Okay so you don't think I'm a complete shamblanker, I'll share a poem instead. It's much easier to share a poem -- smaller package, less shipping and handling, and easier to copy and paste.

This poem contains one of my favorite images from all poetry. (Okay you caught me. I haven't actually read all of poetry.)

Disillusionment of Ten O'clock

by Wallace Stevens

   The houses are haunted
   By white night-gowns.
   None are green,
   Or purple with green rings,
   Or green with yellow rings,
   Or yellow with blue rings.
   None of them are strange,
   With socks of lace
   And beaded ceintures.
   People are not going
   To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
   Only, here and there, an old sailor,
   Drunk and asleep in his boots,
   Catches tigers
   In red weather.

I like to re-read this poem whenever I feel like I'm stuck -- in life that is.  I suppose if I was stuck in the snow or mud, it wouldn't really console me very much.  My favorite is the last image of the sailor catching tigers in red weather.  I haven't figured out exactly what red weather is yet, but it sounds awesome.

I guess what I like the most is the idea that living the kind of life that I often find myself living is safe, but ultimately that safety is paradoxically haunting -- perhaps even because of its familiarity.  Though the sailor is drunk and asleep in his boots, he's doing something.  When did life get so monotonous that Friday night excitement is falling asleep by Ten O'clock? Don't get me wrong, I like sleep plenty.  And no, I'm not going to join the navy to become a drunk sailor. I just wonder if it is possible to reconcile the two seemingly opposite lives. Is it at all within the realm of the possible to have red weather and safety?

I hope so.