Author Photos: Good, Bad & Hilarious

I've seen some bad author photos. And I do not want to be the subject of those. I was going to post some (of other people, of course), but then I thought that was too mean. So here, for my small blogging universe, I offer some candidates with tag lines. Judge for yourself.


Dr. Write is grainy and maybe sleepy? Her eyes are not exactly focused. But she remains in good humor. Her hair looks good for once! She is grateful for her friend's skill with the camera. She doesn't really look like this. In any case, this is just her head. She has a body too, but she doesn't want you to see that.

Dr. Write looks dreamily into the future. In the original of this photo, there was a huge bottle of wine that had to be cropped out. Is her bra showing? Well, at least it's not a nipple. She's looking across the table at a book editor, sending subliminal messages such as "publish my book" and "don't eat the duck pate."


This is Dr. Write's usual pose: mouth open. But usually her eyes are also closed. Where is she? She doesn't even know the people who own this house, she just climbed over the fence to use this chair and the deck. And maybe to steal some beverages. Can you see her tonsils? This might have been right before the police showed up.

Waiting: Over!

I received two pieces of good news this week. An embarrassment of riches.
#1: I was selected to go to London next May with the Study Abroad program.
#2: My collection of short stories was accepted by a publisher. I received an email, so it feels slightly unreal, but I trust the author of said email, so I believe in it. But it will feel more real when I get a letter or a contract.
Now I will drink coffee and steep in my good news.

Waiting

Most of our lives is probably spent waiting, and while we wait, we do things like read. Or surf the internets.
I only mention it because I'm in a colossal bout of waiting right now. Dup-de-doo. (Imagine me twiddling my thumbs.)
Also, I've been really impatient lately at the additional waiting that accompanies life, like waiting in line to pay for things, waiting to get a card, waiting at stop lights, etc etc etc.
I also wanted a new post, because that book one was confusing. The upshot was, I've read some things for school, and some things I started and didn't finish, and other things I haven't read at all.Actually that's most things. If you ever see a book and think, "I wonder if Dr. Write has read this..." the answer is probably no. Middlebrow is on this "read really, really, really long books" kick (which he is just about to start...any day now).
Meanwhile, I think I'll watch a movie.

Books

Since all I seem to be doing is reading or making lists, this meme from Otterbutt, who is somewhere close by, but whom I haven't seen in at least a week!!
Some of these wouldn't let me bold & underline, so you have to take what you can get.
So, I bolded ones I read, underlined ones read for school, and italicized ones I started but did not finish. Some I question why I read in the first place. Memoirs of a Geisha? Though I know why. I told people that I thought it was bad, then I got taken to task for saying that because I hadn't read it. So I read it. And you know what? It was bad. Some books you just know are bad without reading them. Why read them and waste your time?

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
Anna Karenina
Crime and Punishment
Catch-22
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Wuthering Heights
The Silmarillion
Life of Pi : a novel
The Name of the Rose
Don Quixote
Moby Dick
Ulysses
Madame Bovary
The Odyssey
Pride and Prejudice
Jane Eyre
The Tale of Two Cities
The Brothers Karamazov
Guns, Germs, and Steel
War and Peace
Vanity Fair
The Time Traveler’s Wife
The Iliad
Emma
The Blind Assassin
The Kite Runner
Mrs. Dalloway
Great Expectations
American Gods
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
Atlas Shrugged
Reading Lolita in Tehran : a memoir in books
Memoirs of a Geisha
Middlesex
Quicksilver
Wicked : the life and times of the wicked witch of the West
The Canterbury Tales
The Historian : a novel
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Love in the Time of Cholera
Brave New World
The Fountainhead
Foucault’s Pendulum
Middlemarch
Frankenstein
The Count of Monte Cristo
Dracula
A Clockwork Orange
Anansi Boys
The Once and Future King
The Grapes of Wrath
The Poisonwood Bible
1984
Angels & Demons
Inferno
The Satanic Verses
Sense and Sensibility
The Picture of Dorian Gray
Mansfield Park
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
To the Lighthouse
Tess of the D’Urbervilles
Oliver Twist
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
Dune
The Prince
The Sound and the Fury
Angela’s Ashes : a memoir
The God of Small Things
A People’s History of the United States : 1492-present
Cryptonomicon
Neverwhere
A Confederacy of Dunces
A Short History of Nearly Everything
Dubliners
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Beloved
Slaughterhouse-five
The Scarlet Letter
Eats, Shoots & Leaves
The Mists of Avalon
Oryx and Crake
Cloud Atlas
The Confusion is this
There is Confusion
Lolita
Persuasion
Northanger Abbey
The Catcher in the Rye
On the Road
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Freakonomics : a rogue economist explores the hidden side of everything
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance : an inquiry into values
The Aeneid
Watership Down
Gravity’s Rainbow
The Hobbit
In Cold Blood : a true account of a multiple murder and its consequences
White Teeth
Treasure Island
David Copperfield

Austin: The Morning After

This is my artistic abstract photograph of Dale Watson playing at The Continental Club. It was mounds of fun.











The outdoor seating of Jo's Coffee on South Congress. I love the metal! This is where I had my celebrity sighting.











Suzi took me to Smitty's Market in Lockhart, Texas. You buy the meat right from the cooks in a very hot! outer room where, regardless of outdoor temperature, there is an extremely hot fire burning for them to cook the meat. You can get an avocado and they give you white bread. No forks, people, you eat with your hands. I think it was the greasiest sausage I've ever had. I also had an Arnold Palmer.





This is the interior of Smitty's Market, where you get your sides (potato salad, beans, avocado) and drinks. It's cash only. I love the signs. Also, you can get beer if you want and ice cream for dessert.










An interesting building in Lockhart, Texas


















The replica of the Oval Office, cerca LBJ. I didn't get a picture of it, but there was a cool phone in a drawer. And a wooden console that housed three small TVs. Maybe so he could watch all three major networks at once?







All in all, the trip was a smashing success. I am glad to be home, where the temp is 73 instead of 93, with no humidity. I also slept like a baby. I was glad to see MB and Son also, though Son wasted no time getting up to his old tricks of not falling asleep until after 10 and not wanting to wear appropriate clothing for school. But he also couldn't do anything because he was so distracted by the books he's reading, about which I cannot complain.
I will now begin my post-vacation regimen of rice, vegetables and water. A vacation filled with barbecue, beer and wine means cleansing.

Austin Update: Celebrity Sighting

This morning, at 6:45 a.m., Suzi picked me up to go kayaking. We had a lovely paddle in Town Lake (saw some turtles, blue fish, and aggressive swans). Then, of course, we went to Jo's for some protein and caffeine. I am quickly becoming addicted to the Austin tradition of the breakfast taco. Yum!
While we were sitting there, next to the Hotel San Jose, who should come out of said hip, cool hotel but Luke Wilson. I kid you not. He's cute. He was wearing sun glasses and I tried not to stare.
I should also add that I went to bed last night at around 12:30. I went with Don and Martin to The Continental Club to see (or hear) Dale Watson. It was only $5 and it was so much fun! They played lots of oldies, like Merle Haggard and Charlie Rich. It was great! I had three beers (A Stella, Negro Modelo & a Lone Star) and, aside from being tired this morning, no ill effects. I had lots of fun watching all the folks swing dance and country two-step. I was quite impressed with the young, hip looking men who could partner dance. Apparently it's a thing in Texas, and I have to say I think it's a positive trend. I like men who can dance while still looking cool with their messy hair, skinny jeans and Chuck Taylor's.
All in all, Austin is a smashing success. Thanks to Suzi, who has taken me to all the cool local restaurants and the distant barbecue place and the hip coffee shop and the cool bar. And Don who took me to see live music. Tonight we are going to a Tapas place and a place called the Broken Spoke, where apparently there will be an accordion band. Yee haw!
Also, after my presentation (what presentation?), I am going with my colleague David to the LBJ library. I have never been to a Presidential Library before, so I'm looking forward to it. Apparently there is a scathing letter from Goldwater that I'm to keep an eye out for. If it doesn't thunder and rain tomorrow, I may get to go to Barton Springs again. If not, I will probably just go shopping, which is its own consolation.

Keep Austin Sweaty

Here's a pic of my friend Suzi and colleague David at a bar in Austin called Mean Eyed Cat. It has a Johnny Cash theme. It also, like many Austin bars, has cool outdoor seating. And imported beer for like, not that much.









Here are Suzi & I in front of the sign. You can't see it, but it's still kind of hot.












Here's Middlebrow and I at The Salt Lick. It was amazing. What else can I say.












Our food with the beer we brought from home. The Salt Lick is in a dry part of the county. It's BYOB.


















Blooming cacti in front of Suzi's house












I'm having a good time in Austin, although it's hot. And humid. We saw the bats. We swam at Barton Springs (best time ever!) and we've had nothing but great food since we got here. I love the cheap taco stands. Yeah cheap tacos!! And frozen sangria. Like a wine slurpee. At a taco stand! And cheap beer. Etc!!
But also I miss home. And Son. He's little. He needs me! (Or I need him. Same thing!)

What I've Been Doing (Not that You Wanted to Know...)

• Reading about Writing (This Year You Write Your Novel by Walter Mosley)
• Reading Other Things (textbooks, Pale Fire, blogs)
  
• Writing (or trying to write or at least sitting downstairs at my desk)
• Riding the Train (and reading on the train)
• Seeing Movie ("Made of Honor" yes, I actually saw it & I liked it!)
• Eating (fish tacos that I made, salad, banana muffins)
• Sneezing (while running, sleeping, and so on)
• Not sleeping (is it the allergy medicine?)
• Reading to Son (still on Harry Potter 5, which, magically, seems to be endless)
• Cleaning (who really wants to mop the kitchen floor? But it needs to be done!)
• Doing Laundry (this really is endless!!)
• Exercising (well, I didn't do this Sunday or Monday. But today. Today!)
• Downloading & Listening to Madonna's new album "Hard Candy" (some ridiculousness, such as "my sugar is raw" !? but I laugh every time I hear JT say "Ma-Donna")
  
• Going to the Pool (I took Son to the pool yesterday. The indoor pool. But still.)
• Thinking about packing for Austin
• Signing up for things on-line
• Wondering when my new swimsuit will arrive by mail
• Fretting
• Oh yeah! Being happy about not winning a book contest, but being one of 5 finalists (that's a first for me, being a finalist. The not winning part I've been doing for awhile)
• Dining with friends (that's tonight)
• Going to Austin (on Thursday, so I'm out for at least a week, but if I have wireless at my hotel, I'll blog!)
  

Updates from Week 2

• Episodes of TV shows watched: 4 (2 Samantha Who?, and one Gray's Anatomy, even though I gave it up...oh! And Idol)
• Long Meetings Attended: 1 (and it was three hours! And it was still going when I left!) I hereby give up meetings for the rest of the summer!
• Appointments with students: 3 (two with the same student, one was my mistake the second she didn't show up to, plus an email from another student who wants to meet but I don't want to....)
• Movies watched: 1 (Leatherheads at Brewvies with HighTouch)
• Exercise done: 1 run, 2 swims (all done grudgingly. I'm burnt out. Burnt out!)
• Writing = Despair: I've done nothing. Noooothing. I read some of the novel I started five years ago. That's right. Five years!! Lame-O, with a capital Lame.
• Poems written: One. And here it is. Wala!

Poem in Which I Defend my Dislike of Vampire Novels

Maybe I don’t like vampire novels because I’m afraid of needles

or maybe it’s because I don’t like blood or the idea of holes

in my neck, or anyone else’s for that matter, and maybe I don’t like

vampire novels because, generally, they read as if they were written

by vampires, in the dark, in rooms cramped as coffins, with little or no

sunlight, no happiness, no hope for a life free from black clothing

and steak tartar, and I don’t have anything against the goth look, in fact

I like black, but the prose! Those novels are written as if

it’s enough just to have the vampire: he’s a vampire! or she’s a vampire!

but in any case there’s a vampire! and that’s it, no further need to explain.

A friend wrote a vampire novel, but it wasn’t scary, in fact, I think it was comedy,

and all I remember was that the vampire worked in catering or played tape ball

and that seems like the only valid use of a vampire in fiction, if he’s not, primarily,

doing vampire stuff, like stalking girls who are pale to begin with, or biting

women’s necks and draining them of blood, which seems unrealistic, frankly, given the sheer

volume of blood in even one single person, and I don’t like that vampires

are so much like mosquitoes, which, to my knowledge, no one has ever written a novel

about, why can’t mosquitoes be main characters? They like to suck blood

and they hang around at night, in the dark, being annoying in much the fashion of vampires,

where’s the novel about a mosquito who falls in love or the mosquito who can’t

die but instead breeds in the dank water of Okefenokee and falls in love only to kill

the one he loves (perhaps with malaria)? It’s a story we’ve heard before,

the vampire plot. John Gardner said there are only two stories: someone goes on a journey or a

stranger comes to town. Most vampire novels are both, as in a vampire

(the ur-stranger) comes to town and then everyone goes on a journey. But aren’t vampire

novels about our fear of the body? Aren’t vampires just another metaphor

for death and sex and the unknown? I’ve seen the vampires, and I tell you,

I’ll take my chances with sex and the unknown.

My famous step-father

My mom and her husband taught in Myanmar for several years. Last year, he taught in China, near where the recent earthquake occurred. Apparently, with the recent natural disasters in both places, a TV station in his area found out and he was featured on the news. Watch the clip here.
And if you have any extra money, make a donation to an international relief agency. Thanks.

Mothers' Day Movie Marathon

My friend and I planned a Dance Movie Marathon and accidentally had it on Mothers' Day. I didn't know it was Mothers' Day when I picked that day, but we ended up having it yesterday anyway. It was perfect, actually, because I believe that on Mothers' Day one should be entirely free of any maternal duties. Son and MB gave me the "Juno" soundtrack, which I love.
My friend made delicious chocolate chip cookies, and I made enchiladas (the sauce was amazing!!). We walked to the store for ice between movies 1 & 2, and we made some margaritas for movie 3.
The movies were supposed to start at 1, but we had some technical difficulties, and I was a bit late. By the end of the night, we were one whole movie behind. We started around 1:30 and ended after 10. It was so worth it.
The line up:
Footloose. I hadn't seen this in so long, that I'd forgotten Sarah Jessica Parker was in it. Also, it's weird to watch it so close to where it was filmed. All the girls had Idaho hair as far as I could tell (but I guess it's also Utah hair). Also, a colleague was in it, though we didn't see him. But he was there, somewhere.
Breakin'. I'd never seen this, and it was very dated, just as Footloose was. But the dancing was good. I think the white girl wasn't a very good dancer, but what do I know. Loved the 80s outfits, such as the leotards with belts and ripped shirts. It kind of made me want to watch Flashdance. I think my favorite part was the young Ice T.
Strictly Ballroom. Again, it had been ages since I'd seen this. I think this might have been the only truly good movie in the line up. The father is hilarious in his solo dance scenes. And the hair!! This made me want to learn to dance so I could do the Flamenco, which is what I think they did. Shows how much I know about dancing.
Save the Last Dance. I had never seen this one, and I liked it. I liked the inter-racial romance thing it had going on. Also the dancing (in the bar at least) was good.

Some weird convergences: "True Colors" was featured in both Strictly Ballroom and Save the Last Dance (I think... it was in two different movies anyway). Also Save the Last Dance featured a shout out to Turbo and Ozone, the dance stars of Breakin'. All the movies featured the "outsider" or "loner" against the mainstream. Most of the movies used either class or race issues to explore this mainstream/other plot line. And as Lis pointed out, the makers of Step Up 2: The Streets had obviously studied Breakin'.
Also, having watched these four movies I now understand that most of our problems can be solved through dancing. (And by "our" I mean whatever group you belong to: young people in rural Americans, white people, ballroom dancers, racially divided groups of people in Chicago, etc.)
I now think that I should have a movie marathon every Mothers' Day. Maybe next year it will be movies featuring teachers and/or English teachers. Maybe Dead Poets' Society, Stand and Deliver, Dangerous Minds, Freedom Writers, Mr. Holland's Opus. Any other suggestions for themes and/or movies?

What I've Been Doing: Week 1

Though this week doesn't really count as Week 1 of vacation (I didn't turn in my grades until Monday), it is the beginning of vacation. So what have I been doing?

1. Cleaning the bedroom (mopping floor, dusting, cleaning the door, more dusting)
2. Purging (old running shoes, clothes not worn in decades, Son's too small clothes)
3. Cleaning downstairs (so far I've only recycled a lot of paper and shredded some stuff, but the desk is visible, if not quite usable)
4. Watching stuff ("Shut Up & Sing," "Monk" on Hulu, "I'm Your Man" while I cleaned downstairs)
5. Eating French Fries (made in the oven, with yummy aioli, so good)
6. Going out to lunch (I've only done this once, but I think I'll do it again!)
7. Thinking about writing (I like to have a fresh start and a clean desk)
8. Making lists in my head (called "things to do" & "things not to forget")
9. Worrying (self-explanatory?)
10. Drinking (wine, beer, Izze sodas, iced tea, lemonade)
11. Laundry
12. Reading (two books finished today! Onward & upward!)
13. Getting organized (at least in my mind)
14. Having my blood drawn (this is in my top two things I hate the most & I can't remember the other one. Plus I have a big bruise now)
15. Oh, I have been running. And I swam once. And my knee hurts. So there's that)

I hope y'all have been as wildly unproductive in the first days of summer vacation as I have. I'm looking forward to it being hot enough that the pool opens.

On the Death of a Neighbor

I think this one is self-explanatory. I didn't know what to do, so I made muffins and wrote this poem.

When I came out of my house, he would be there
I had to stop myself from saying always
in the mornings, after snow or rain, there

Then suddenly he’s disappeared, he’s nowhere
and I will have to find another way
to come out of my house and find him there

More than fences & sidewalks that we shared
the simple waves or funny things he’d say
in the mornings, after snow or rain, there

And how to tell my son he won’t be there?
Hola Fernando! my son would wave
When he came out of the house, his friend was always there

My son pretends not to, or doesn’t know how to, care
but soon enough he will find his way
in the mornings, after snow or rain, there

His being gone surrounds us everywhere
No other day will be just like today
When I come out of my house, his absence will be there
in the mornings, after snow or rain,

...and Done!

I submitted my grades this morning. Let the flurry of student emails reading "D??" begin. Sigh.
And so begin my ambitious summer plans. So far I've dusted under the bed and the dressers and mopped one-fourth of the bedroom. I wiped down the door and door frame. I subtracted all the transactions from our checking account. I'm listening to the new KRCL. I'm trying to get rid of T-shirts I haven't worn in the last year. Why does that seem so hard? I'm also looking for new storage options for my shoes. It's probably time to mop another part of the bedroom (trying to clean the floor without moving the bed into the hallway, which would involve taking it apart. Just not worth it). I may dust the dresser, but then I have to go swim in order to recover from my weekend which involved standing in one place for 5-ish hours and running 10 miles (half up hill!). And my arm hurts.
Watched "Juno" finally. Loved it!

My Six Word Memoir

Did I really just say that?

“To Be Looked At (From the Other Side of the Glass) With One Eye, Close To, for Almost an Hour”

after Duchamp, 1918
for Lisa B.

squinting I saw you fragmented like rain or glass, splintered
the way time broke into the number of paintings
or how many seconds you could study Monet and still get
the point or how I came around the corner to Wyeth’s
Christina’s World or finding something new and feeling
my heart leap into my eyes and Lucien Freud with his
whippets and nudes, what would Sigmund say? But
there’s no time for contemplation because twenty
dollars for two hours is ten dollars an hour I can
still do simple math even after three days in New
York City (four dinners, two movies, one play,
countless glasses of wine, one overpriced martini,
two trips to H&M, one bowl of soup, three Stellas)
& what makes it more worthwhile than you
waiting up like the mother you are and we're eating
chocolate and wanting to go home but never
to leave and all the pictures and the notes scrawled
in Moleskins, the coffee consumed and the bagels
Central Park and the simple sensation of strolling
up and down the streets, rain or not, and the subway
ride and the taxis and I want to see the whole thing
up close again, both eyes open because if art can be this

The Albertson's at 17th & 9th

When can I go into the supermarket
and buy what I need with my good looks?
Allen Ginsberg, “America”

I’m only looking for a lemon when I think of tonic water
so I need that too but what have I got except my two
legs, strong from running, and my skin, too dry,
I have blue eyes, but I’m not good at flirting,
and sure I have money, but I want to buy what I can
get, not what I can afford, and I remember a story
my husband told about his grocery store days
stalking the shop lifters, the guy who ran out
with the twelve pack of beer and how he wrestled him
across four lanes of traffic, his down jacket
bursting like a shot duck and I never had to
do that but I had to touch the bleeding meat
so I feel I’ve paid my dues and I cut and marked freight
which is what they call groceries before they throw
them on the shelf and now that I’m here in the aisles
lit up like Christmas Eve, I want it all, the Baked Lays
and the Doritos, the corn chips and the neon yellow
Gatorade that reminds me of soccer practice and my
bleeding leg from some high kick and sure I need
tampons and lip gloss, who doesn’t? But I want
chocolate and what kind can my good looks buy
me tonight? just another Monday with no plans
I could be convinced to smile at the checker
gets me only a smile in return the problem
with capitalism is capital with a capital C
which is everyone’s problem these days
saving 40 cents on bananas is like winning a fucking
Nobel and I say again, I’ve got these legs and some
blue eyes and no breasts to speak of I could fit a bag
of chips beneath my shirt and run for it
but what happens when I come back tomorrow
because I need another lemon or maybe
what I really need is a twelve pack of beer

(This is actually yesterday's poem, because I am so behind I am just writing...I heard "America" on KRCL this afternoon so that's why this.)

New Poem

from The Wilco Fragments

all my lies are always wishes
from ashes of American flags

when I use words they float without gravity near my face or fall like dead seeds to the floor the way weeds flourish without rain but flowers die and how leaves can blow clear of the lawn but cigarette butts and candy wrappers huddle in the gutter waiting for me to happen by and the smashed beer cans stay but the buds of roses and blossoms of lilacs fall after just minutes and where do they go? somewhere I can’t see them, across the street with the college students who eat pizza on the stoop and smoke cigarettes letting their dogs shit in our yard and pretty soon the whole planet is covered with dandelions and detritus but where are the individual letters the way an F can unfurl like a flag but somehow the lies balloon inflated with sunshine and open space or how a W flies like a flock or C hangs in the sky like a moon I apologize for what hasn’t actually happened but the pollen is out and my eyes are filled with possibility the way something might happen if only

Late Poem

This poem is actually about last week, but I'm so behind I may never catch up. Here it is.

Son, Sick

Is it wrong that I enjoy it?
Not his nuclear forehead
or the redness of his
eyes nor the vomit
I have to clean up
off the floor, no I enjoy
the warm proximity of him
when I put my lips to his forehead
to take his temperature
I adore his near-ness
the way a fever jerks him
back to childhood out
of his seven-year-old attitude
too old
to touch mom
to need mom
and suddenly I’m alive
again
the bringer of the Gatorade
the one’s who cool washcloth
feels like ice and spring at the same
time and he’s lying, quietly
listening to me read, he puts
his head on my shoulder
he nestles into me
nestles! and though I don’t wish
for him to be sick, in fact
I pretend he’s well so I can
send him back to school,
I actually love the days
when he sleeps without struggle
walks directly into my arms when
he wakes when his voice
doesn’t rise to a whine but instead
settles against my skin
a cool, considering hand

ED 6 & 7

So I fell behind, but I was catching up on poems, so that's something, isn't it?
Like Hightouch, I try to make dinner at home. This week it was all about leftovers. We ate Sunday's meal Monday AND last night. So that was Earth Day 6: eating what you have on hand. (I know I'm copying Hightouch, but copying is a form of reusing, and it's not wasteful!)
And for Earth Day 7: stop unnecessary trips in the car. As the owners of only one car, MB and I rationalize a good deal of our travel. But sometimes it's not necessary for him to drive me all the way to campus, etc etc. So when only one of us goes to campus, we will take public transportation. If it's the campus near our house, MB walks. I sometimes ride my bike. If it's the campus farther away, we can take a bus/train/bus combination. Or, at the very least, someone can drop someone else at the train, thus eliminating the longest part of the drive.
Also, I have convinced MB not to buy a new vehicle (because I don't want to invest in obsolete technology), but instead I think we're going to get a rack for the top of the car we do have so that if we ever do go camping, poor Son won't be crammed in the backseat with a million things. And we have the dog now, so there's that.
Thanks for the Earth Day Challenge! I'm looking forward to composting and attempting another garden this summer.

New Poem

I heard this amazing story about Steve Lopez and Nathaniel Ayer on "Fresh Air" today. Steve Lopez is a columnist for the LA Times and met Nathaniel Ayer on Skid Row. Nathaniel was a brilliant musician who dropped out of Julliard because of mental illness. Lopez helped him get back into music and wrote a book about their experiences called The Soloist. I was inspired by a part of the interview to write this poem. I hope you will listen to part of the story. I know you are busy. At least think about listening to part of it.
Here's the poem:

The Apartment

is waiting for me with its windows and hush hush hush
if I can’t hear the sirens or rain how will I know my body
exists and the world of noise and sensation
the music of the dripping sink the thumps upstairs
as if the building is a living thing and we are
its heartbeat all night
I push the cart up and down the street watching
the apartment building turn on its eyes
and close itself like a mouth that wants to sing
but can only belch and groan
if only the apartment were the size of my hand
I could lift the building to my lips and blow
the sound of music the humming of kitchen
lights the refrigerator the startling silence
of night cars going by and the way the moon
howls its glow if I wanted to be inside
I would turn myself out like coat lapels or socks
but the city is my mind lit up like Sunset Boulevard
walking all night pushing this way and that and even
the silence makes a sound like the echo of wind
in a paper cup can you hear it?
inside I curl on the floor I hear
the apartment sleeping the eyelids of sleepers
fluttering in dreams and if I cannot dream
then I do not blame the apartment I
believe it cradles me like a park bench
that wants to melt but cannot help
what it is being only the right shape
and so much metal

ED 4 & 5

So I slacked yesterday and did not post. But it was because I was cleaning my house and nursing sick Son.
But, I didn't use a bag at REI and I reused a box from Christmas for my gift. So, for yesterday the theme was REUSE.
I'm about to go to Whole Foods, and I'll bring my own bags. And I try not to use those little plastic bags, but sometimes I do.
My other goal for today: get a new gold filter for our new coffeemaker. Our old gold filter has holes in it, and we have been using paper filters (which we can compost, but still). So that's for today: gold filter replaces paper filter and paper filter waste.
Don't get blown away in all this wind! Batten the hatches!

ED 3

I'm not sure I can take credit for this, but I will, given the Earth Day Challenge. MB bought a composter today at CostCo (of all places! So ecologically incorrect!). It is made of 90% recycled materials and it will help us recycle our materials (so many coffee grounds!!) into compost for the as of yet non-existent garden that may, one day (the distant future), grace our yard.
So that's today. Tomorrow we begin composting. Let's hear it for composting!
Hurray!

The Sublime Appeal of Sherlock Holmes

Why do I love him so?
His heroin habit, his rough talk to Dr. Watson,
the way he finds a mystery within a mystery
we didn’t even know was there? In “A Solitary
Bicyclist” a woman is merely afraid of being followed.
But that’s to my untrained eye. Holmes sees
the larger mystery, the greed in men’s hearts
and the lust in their souls. If they have souls.
I’d guess that Holmes doesn’t believe in the soul,
because he can find no evidence of it on his
shirt sleeve, it leaves behind no residue, it can’t be
tested for. Holmes believes in numbers, and facts,
and, it turns out, boxing. He calls a clean left
“delicious” and sips his scotch. One wonders
about the exact nature of Holmes' relationship
to Watson, but perhaps that is too twenty-first
century. Watson marries eventually, Holmes dies,
but then returns, just like the villain in one of his mysteries.
Holmes tells Watson he is supremely unhelpful,
and I can’t help but think he’s telling the truth.
Is it always best to tell the truth? Holmes might say yes,
but here our minds diverge. Perhaps it is best to tell
an approximation of the truth, the way Holmes
remade himself as a beggar or an old man, so as to
sidle up to the suspect or the victim, to get a closer look,
a better angle, to surprise the truth unawares. I believe
Holmes might agree, though not directly. He would nod,
and say perhaps. Best not to commit oneself. He could
unriddle clues disguised as chimera, but tricked himself
last, the truth disguised as needle, as alchemy, as getting
away with it, though it, in the end, was getting away with him.

ED 2

Today I'm going to try not to take 2 showers. This sometimes happens if I have to go teach and then I work out or swim later and have to shower again. Today I am just not showering in the morning. I don't actually have to meet with students today, instead I'm sitting in my office while they drop off essays and then meet in their workshop groups. So I'm hoping no one will notice that my hair is in a ponytail, and that I smell slightly of french fries.
After this, I'll workout at the gym and shower there.
My other promise is to take shorter showers at home. I think I need a timer with an alarm. Or a shower that just turns off in protest.
I am a super long showerer and I admit that. But I'm trying to change my ways.

Earth Day Challenge

So I agreed to be more Earth Friendly, in general, but at least for the next 7 days. I heard a guy talking about biking, especially to places less than 2 miles away. So I probably could bike to the grocery store, etc. But not until it stops being freezing and snowing just because it feels like it.
Today, I tried to not use plastic bags to bring my lunch. First of all, bringing my lunch is much more Earth Friendly than buying it at school, because of the packaging and napkins and whatnot. But I always bring at least three things for lunch. So today I brought my carrots in a small container instead of a plastic bag. That's good, right?
And I promise not to write a bad poem today, which will cut down on the much-complained-about poetry pollution.
That's day 1.

Another American Idol poem

Well. This one was better in theory. But here it is. It's here. Right now.

Michael Johns: We Hardly Knew Ye

I read the news today, oh boy
my first thought was: is America crazy?
Really? You want to get rid of him? The hot
one with the Australian accent?
I have some fantasies that involve conversations
with famous people, in which I act casual and cool,
and so with Michael, I say, hey, I liked your
interpretation of “Bohemian Rhapsody,”
like didn’t mean to make you cry
very, um, heterosexual.
But, don’t be silly, I know I’ll never
get to see him or Jake Gyllenhaal,
or French kiss Willem Dafoe (the 80s one),
or even touch the thumb of Kevin Bacon,
thinking the whole time how many degrees
separate us, like the mere inches between
Dolly Parton and Michael Johns the week
he sang I like your look, I love your smile
and I was thinking, get over here! Me too!
But I’ll never be that close to him, close
enough to say, Hey Michael, will you
call my name as you walk on by?
He’d reply, sure. No problem.
But outside my dream life he sings,
dream on, dream until your dreams come true…
The closest I’ll get to him, or anyone, might be
the distance between the stage and the audience,
or, translated, the distance between celebrity
and real life. Here I am on the couch and there
they are on the screen. Except for Michael.
Oh Michael. Where are you?

Finally. A poem.

Poem in Which My Husband Slams My Fingers in the Car Door

and Then We Attend a Baseball Game

Why on a Saturday when the sun shines do we sit in the shade?
Such are the vagaries of buying baseball tickets as the game starts,
families straggling and crying, children not surrendering their dreams
of new hats and pink ice cream, instead crying and pleading and screaming,
waiting for their parents to give in. But first, I screamed.
I didn’t scream because I was angry or frustrated or mad,
the normal reasons for screaming, at least in my universe.
No. I was merely getting into the minivan, not mine, of course,
but my father’s. My hand was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The news took a second, maybe two, to travel to my brain.
And then I screamed. I screamed so loud that later the neighbor
asked my husband if I was okay. Yes, he said. I closed her hand
in the car door. Don’t worry, I said, my hand throbbing. It’s only
my right hand. I won’t need it for anything, thinking of the writing,
and all the grading that needs to get done in the next two weeks, and
the novel or the stories that might not get written after that, not to mention
that I won’t be able to shovel out our backyard for our new patio
because my hand will be bruised and purple and lame. But I’m fine.
I took some Advil, iced my hand and, upon arrival at the baseball game,
had a beer. Then we shivered in the shade, watching batters, left-handed
and right. We discuss mirror images and backwards writing and how, when
learning to read, a word can be a sound or a picture. For me it was a picture,
which was how I could tell a Gris from a Picasso. Or whatever. That’s just
an example. When I’m not thinking about how cold I am, I’m asking
questions about what makes a .485 batting average what it is, and also,
to tell the truth, I’m thinking about the damage bats can do, and I’m
checking out the women in my section to see if they are my age,
or younger, and which babies are cute or fat or both. My son’s tongue
is red and he looks like an alien, which is what he is, most of the time,
a creature that doesn’t know what it wants and rarely understands English.
But now, as I’ve figured out, my hand is not crippled, in fact it’s fine, under
the influence of Advil, and baked potatoes, mushrooms and wine.
I can’t tell my husband, of course, because then where would I be?
I have to pretend to suffer, and in pretending, I do suffer, because
acting is being. I know that much. But the key is in convincing him
that I suffer, which doesn’t take much, believe me. Hey, my fingers hurt,
they’re swelling, look? Pass the wine.

Home

I'm teaching a workshop on writing about Home this month. Here's a little something I started at the first workshop on Monday night.

Home

Later it wouldn’t be the basement
or the solo bedroom with gold trim
or the orange bookcase

It would not be the apartment on Marigold
or the duplex on Chubbuck Road
It wouldn’t even be the house, finally
ours, on Chase. Home?

Who can say
It’s not this small kitchen
or the dusty baseboards
the muddy backyard
the arrangement of four walls
and furniture, beds and sofas
or the accumulation of books and time

It’s the presence of bodies
in such a space
the husband, the son, the dog
and the kind of quiet
that only emerges
from sleep & snow

today's poem is...

depressing.
For which, I apologize. But after watching two hours of Idol Gives Back, complete with dying kids in Africa, poverty in Kentucky, I just wasn't happy. I think I want to go to Africa.
But, in any case, I revived something I wrote as prose last year after seeing The Devil Came on Horseback, about the genocide in Darfur. You should see it. Or at least see some of Brian Steidle's photographs. Amazing and horrifying. I'm in awe of people who have such courage. This, then, is the poem.

Poem To Be Read With Eyes Closed After Looking at Brian Steidle's Photograph

There was a girl.
See her?
She curves in the shape of sleep
red dress clinging to her bones
her wrists might slip from the chains
that bind her to the tree where
she was burned
she is a heap of ash

don’t ask yourself how old she was
don’t ask where you were
or what you were doing when

the problem is evil
is injustice
is the men on horses with knives
and guns

but what do these words mean?
knife gun
I have heard them spoken
but I don't understand

don’t ask what you could have done
I’m sorry, but she’s not the only one
Think: it could have been a girl in a pink
skirt or the baby I saw, tiny in a yellow blanket

Don’t say I didn’t know
Don’t ask what could I have done
It’s both too late and too early

See this hand and the muscle
in it, the red still living
and don’t ask why
do it now

The DFL is...

Over! Hallelujah!
But there is no rest for the wicked. I must read two reams of student drafts for student workshops. I must read for my class. And then I can rest, briefly, and perhaps attend a baseball game. And finish a book and see some good trashy movies.
And then the sprint for the finish line of the semester.
Thanks to those of you who attended. I appreciate it!!

Haiku for Two (slow) Days

I didn't write a poem yesterday. But I did make a killer slide for my presentation (thanks to a good suggestion from Lisa B. who is shaming me in the poetry writing department).

But in any case, I'll put two haiku on here so that technically I am not behind, though usually I don't write haiku and I don't think that they really count.

Haiku for Middlebrow's Defense
Oh tall man, talking
mechanisms of realism, so smart
want to watch TV?

Haiku for first long run of the season
is everything always uphill?
running towards mountains, sun
metaphor for life


I know they're no American Idol sestina. But maybe I'll start a series of formal poems on TV shows I like. I can't wait to write about Old Christine!

Second Day: Second Poem: Sestina

Don't worry. My productivity will fall off, rapidly, as soon as I don't have so much other work I'm avoiding.
So here it is.

American Idol Sestina

What are their names again? Ramiele? Sayesha? Those Davids,
and all the others I love, Danny, whom I’ll never forget,
until next season, when new Davids or Dannys grace the stage.
At my age, I should be over this, the fawning, the popularity,
the whole high school feel of it, complete with the judging,
only this time I love it, because it’s American Idol!

And the reasons I love American Idol are one: it’s American Idol!
Okay, that’s not logical. Really? I love the hot guys, Michael, David,
whether they were strippers or not! Who am I to judge
what the singers did before? I'm like an amnesiac, I forget
because I want to forget. I just want simple things: popularity,
unconditional love, fame. I want the world to be my stage,

as if I could be in contention with such talent, but at this stage
everyone’s “talented,” right Paula? Each is the next American Idol.
But it’s a singing competition, right Simon? Not a popularity
contest. If it’s about talent and singing then David wins. But which David?
They all blend together, the handsomeness, the voice, it’s so easy to forget
who is who, or that not everyone can really sing. I can’t! But I can judge!

And that’s a talent unto itself, being like Randy or Paula or Simon, judging
who’s the best, who can sell records, make money, who has the best stage
presence. Each week I think anyone could win but it changes, I forget
that only one person can be the very best, the real best, the next American Idol.
And every year there’s one person everyone thinks will win, this year it’s David.
But is he really the most talented? Or only the cutest? Or the most popular?

They’re not the same, in Simon’s semantic universe, talent and popularity,
though to the American public they are pretty much equivalent. And who’s judging?
We are! Even when I don’t call, I critique the style of Christy Lee Cook and David,
I pretend that I know how it is to sing the song, to stand up there, alone on the stage
wanting attention so desperately that I'd go so far as trying out for American Idol,
but I’d have to be a complete idiot to do that, right? What? Did I suddenly forget

that I can’t sing? Or do I want to meet Simon so badly that I’d forget
my tone deafness or that I’d end up on the hideous reel? But it is a popularity
contest. Choose me, each contest sings. Each thinks she’s the next American Idol.
But not everyone can be the best. There’s only one best. Though each night the judges
say at least twice, “That was the best!” And the contestants stand there on stage
little amnesiacs, forgetting that everyone in the end, loves David, votes for David.

David is never in the bottom three. David would never forget
the lyrics. On stage, it is all about popularity, not sheer, raw talent.
But the allure is in the judging, the judgment, the judge: I choose the next American Idol.

April: Am I Supposed to Be Poeming?

Lisa B & I did agree to write a poem a day in April. But, given the DFL deadline (don't ask!), I forewarned her of my slackitude.
But. I have a poem I started last month, and I thought I would contribute it for day one. I may not write a poem a day for the next few days, but starting the 9th baby, I'm there.
(A brief aside, I saw my name flash by on the large sign on the busy road which runs by campus. It scared me!)
Here's my poem:

from Letters from Ex-boyfriends (a series which exists only in my mind! And in this one poem!)

Cut-Up #1

an atom is mostly empty space—
his hands soft as paper, the side of his face
I want to tell you what electrons can mean
how his jaw tightened when he began to lean
and the way I see the universe now, in relation to you
to kiss me, but that was never what he would do
which resembles how the cosmos and an atom differ,
instead he would whisper, I love you, only to defer
only in terms of scale, so we might say they are the same, equal
the events which lay on the horizon, upheaval
how a cell is the body and at the same time only part
as in: wanting to love is not the same as having heart
but when I touch your body, I never get to you
only in some contexts does one plus one make two

Dinner

We went out with Sylvia & Don this weekend. We went to Em's, which we went to with them the year before last, and we loved it, but we haven't gone back. Why?
The food was excellent, as was the company and the wine.
But the mushroom soup was sublime. Sublime!! I must start making mushroom soup. It was a broth soup (made from mushrooms, onions, garlic, what else?) and then it had three kinds of mushrooms (baby portabellos, shitake, button?). In any case, I could have eaten three bowls. It also had a nice crostini floating in it.
We were too full for dessert. Pity.
Who's dinner was best? Unknown. The scallop appetizer we shared was also perfect.
Before dinner, Sylvia, Don and I went for a cocktail at the Metropolitan. I had a delicious martini with the ice floating on the top (key!). And it was at least twice as good as the martini I had in New York and it cost less than half as much. Is that crazy? It's crazy!
I must now stop blogging and emailing in an effort to put off working on the DFL. I'm going to lock myself in the library for at least four hours today.
Then I'll top it off with basketball. I want Davidson to win, but I fear their winning streak may be coming to a close. I had them losing in the first round anyway.

Things I'm Doing Instead

...of working on the DFL which, by the way, is only 11 days away. Argh! Did I say 11? Help me!
So here's what I did, do, am doing:

1. Attempted to do the Thursday NYT crossword (it's too hard! I'm too stupid!!).
2. Started a new book (Water for Elephants. So far I like it.).
3. Drank beer.
4. Watched (very little) basketball.
5. Drank coffee.
6. Got my eyebrows waxed (hey! It's necessary!).
7. Check my email obsessively.
8. Worry about my syllabus for next year. Next! Year!
9. Eat scones.
10. Blog.
11. Apparently going out to breakfast with The Devil, otherwise known as Middlebrow.
    

If any of you have any great ideas for my lecture, let me know. Just please, if you plan on attending, have low expectations. It's all I ask of you.

Reasons for Blog Silence

First it was Spring Break. Mostly we stuck around the house, but I did manage to get some work done on the DFL. Making Power Point presentation, importing pictures (I mean, stealing them from various internet sites), writing brief things to say about each one, worrying.
Then, we went to Boulder, Utah for a few days. It was beautiful and warm. On the drive down we stopped at Torrey and did a hike in Capitol Reef. Then we drove on to Boulder, checked in to our hotel, discovered we had forgotten the bathroom bag (my fault? possibly) and drove to the hippy gas station/convenience store to buy toothbrushes, toothpaste, a comb, and beer. We watched some NCAA excitement, sat in the hot tub, and then drank wine, ate chocolate and watched "Lipstick Jungle." Oh yeah, and we had dinner in there somewhere too.
The next day we went for a longer hike, but first we drove all around, went to Escalante, then drove back toward Boulder. But first we stopped at Kiva Koffe, which has to have the best view of any restaurant ever. At least of the places I've been. The hike was fun, but on the way back to the trailhead it was like a superhighway. And Son may have complained. Just a bit.
That night we had dinner at Hell's Backbone. I had delicious trout and quinoa and veggies. Middlebrow had delicious meatloaf and lemon mashed potatoes. They might be my new favorite thing. I also don't know how they get their roasted carrots to be so delicious. Maybe they just start out with better carrots? In any case, I ate every bite and was stuffed!
Saturday I woke up with a sore throat, so we basically just drove straight back home. I laid in bed and felt sick, but got up on Sunday to shoot baskets with the family and then go for a walk. But then yesterday I felt like crap again, but I taught anyway, because I would feel too bad about canceling class. Today I called in sick. So I hope I'm better tomorrow.
I'm thinking about going to the caucus tonight, just for fun. We'll see how I feel.
But I probably won't be blogging much until after the DFL. I already have 30 slides. Am I crazy?

Rufus Report

Well, HighTouch and I made it up the hill and back down successfully, thanks to her expert driving.
Now, for the report.
Yesterday, I was feeling glad that we hadn't had tickets for months, because then I might have had such a build up of anticipation that the show couldn't live up to that. Post-show, I'm not sure. I don't think I could possibly, in this incarnation, have been disappointed. First, it was Rufus!!
He has an amazing stage presence and charisma. It was just him on stage with a piano and a few different guitars. And the audience was silent, waiting for him to speak and sing. He had our full attention.
The minute he walked out, I got chills. A kind of musical-anticipation chills. I got a little teary. He started with "Grey Gardens." He sang a few things from the new album which I don't have, but they were lovely. For a full set list, see Hightouch. I especially liked "Going to a Town" which had the refrain "I'm so tired of America." Very touching.
He did a little piano segue between something (I've forgotten) and "Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk" which is one of my favorites. He stretched it out and it was his fake ending. We all stood and cheered. I stood there thinking, he has to come out and do something amazing. I want to be floored.
And then he came out and sang "The Art Teacher," which is amazing. But then he started playing "Hallelujah" and talking about Leonard Cohen and the movie "I'm Your Man" in which he sings that song, and how he had been in Park City for Sundance when the movie premiered. The minute he started playing it on the piano I started crying, and I pretty much cried through the whole thing. I knew I would! But it did floor me. It was perfect and devastating. I had tears poring off my chin. It was so touching. I feel very lucky to have seen him perform. He's truly gifted. It was just him up there with the piano and his guitars. He has an awesome voice, he's a talented songwriter, arranger, and lyricists.
He was great and funny.
I feel blessed to have been there. It's one for the books.

Wants and Needs

I am happy to report that by some convergence of Fate and Hightouchmegastore's credit card, we are going to see Rufus Wainwright tomorrow night!!!!!! (I think that deserves infinite exclamation points, but we'll settle for six).
My needs and wants for the evening are few, but important.
I want:
RW to sing "Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk" and "One Man Guy." If he can manage it "Hallelujah" would be great too.
Maybe some chocolate while he's singing?
I want to feel chills.
If I cry, it will be the second public arts performance that I have attended with Hightouch that I cried at. I'm just saying it so that if it happens, no one will be shocked. It might happen. It probably could happen.
I am grateful to my friend whom I had plans with for not saying that I was sort of crazy for canceling dinner plans to go see Rufus. I mean, he's Rufus. I would probably have flown somewhere to see him, like Chicago? Or New York?
I'm also grateful to Hightouch for driving up the hill.
I'm feeling a little jittery and nervous. I haven't been this excited since...I saw Journey in ninth grade?
No, since I saw...James Taylor at Tanglewood (just FYI, he's playing there this summer too).

P.S. I deleted "Client Nine" because I sent it out. But if you want to read it, let me know and I'll email it to you.

It's Hard Out Here For A Mom (For A Mom)

Okay. This is not a pity party.
But.
I had a hard day. Two meetings. Two!! I recognize that some people spend their days in meetings but I didn't sign up for that life and you damn well know that I don't have that salary.
But.
I love my kid. I do. You know I do. But the meeting I had to sit through because I care about the quality of education he receives and puts his little heart into....so. frustrating.
I almost, almost, said just screw it. I'll put him in a regular public school where I don't have to deal with this "whole child" speak. I mean, I want him to get the best education. But I almost feel as if I am punished for caring so much. I know I am. I mean, it's not cool to care, right?
I also feel bad for wanting so much for so little. I know the teachers don't get paid enough. I know it! I'm willing to pay more. But unfortunately my willingness to pay more gets divided by all the people who (in this state) procreate beyond their means and then want us (those of us who only have one child) to pay more for the same education. Okay. I'm willing to accept that. But. But!!
I'm willing to work for what I want. Put in the hours. Do the overtime.
But. But!!
I have different goals. The teachers have some goals and the parents have others. And never the twain shall meet. (that's a bad, no terrible literary reference. I'm embarrassed to admit.)
What is good for this?
Well. To start: red curry and masaman curry. And beer. And then a bottle of wine.
And then American Idol. And then some chocolate.
Then "Lipstick Jungle."
What is most redeeming for me about this trashy, 40-something drama? I can be candid and admit that I love Nico's affair with a young man and the way he wants her. Also, hello!, Brooke Shields has arms like I don't know and I love her!!
Enough said. Over and out.
*I had to edit out the F word. I re-read it this morning. Must remember: don't blog at night while upset after drinking too much wine!!

New Career Plan: Lie, Apologize, Profit

Here is yet another story about a fake "memoir": White Girl Writes Hood "Memoir."
How long does it take me to learn? First, you write a fake memoir. Make stuff up. The more dramatic the better. (Hey, I just remembered. My first love was killed in a hunting accident. And then I had to go live with my estranged aunt who was a crack addict. I lived on Top Ramen. I had to work at ShopKo. Oh wait, that was my sister.) Also, I could borrow a "plot" from a book that's already been published. That works too. (Wait, I already have a title, developed using an algorithm that combines all the titles from best selling books: Snow Falling on My Idaho Girlhood. Also, it sounds vaguely dirty, which helps. )
Then, when it comes out that it was all made up, I say that it was "emotionally true" or that I was speaking for those who cannot speak for themselves. Or that I don't understand what is meant by "lying" because I'm a "creative" writer. That means I can create stuff, right? Get over it.
Then I apologize. Sorry. I just didn't understand.
Then I get a story in the New York Times. Then I write a novel. Jackpot!! Because I've proved I can make stuff up right?
Career Gold!
Why didn't I think of it sooner?

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

This is the most beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful, amazing film I have seen in the past year. Maybe ever. It did what so few films do, which is to convey emotion via images. Why do so few movies do this? Film, after all, is a visual medium. Yes, it is a good way to tell a story. But few movies actually give you firsthand experiences of a character.
The film was amazing for so many reasons. It probably should have won for best cinematography and best director. It presents such a brilliant vision of the story. It goes beyond the narrative of the film into memory and emotion.
I'm still enthralled. I keep thinking of specific parts.
And, I loved Niels Arestrup as Roussin. I am going to look for other movies that he's been in. He was captivating. Perhaps it was his silver hair and blue eyes. Max von Sydow was amazing too. The film was heartbreaking, of course, but ultimately inspiring.
I highly recommend it. It was thoughtful and beautiful. Just really really beautiful.

41 Days and Counting

I was surfing ye olde internets this p.m. and found this wonderful image of a Zaha Hadid building in Dubai. It's scheduled to be done in 2010. It's actually three buildings constructed with a hole in the center.
What does this tell us about post-modern skepticism of authority?
Well, hopefully it illustrates something about narrative, because it's going in the talk!
A little less anxious, as I have written maybe three pages. And I got some books from the library!
But I'm still counting down the days. But that doesn't mean I'm not also watching "American Idol." Thank god it's not two hours anymore. That's excessive.
Son thinks David Archuleta is going to win. I told him that I would buy him an ice cream sundae if he did! He probably will. Aside from him, all the boys were a little blah tonight.

My Not Very Well Thought Out Explanation of Why I am 4 Obama

Okay. Ever since I watched this Lessig video, I've been feeling the need to defend my support for Obama.
First, I don't like the way Clinton's campaign has been essentialized. That is, I don't like the assumption that I am a woman and Clinton is a woman, therefore I should vote for Clinton. I am a feminist because I believe, someday, we could all be less restricted by other people's ideas of what it means to be a "woman." The flip side, of course, is that perhaps, someday, gender won't matter. That I could judge whether I like a candidate or not based on issues, or other qualities, not gender. For me, that time is now. If I agreed with everything Clinton said, the way she is conducting her campaign, I would vote for her.
My first choice was Edwards. I like him because he talks about poverty and class, two issues that are important to me. But he dropped out. What to do?
I like Obama because I do think he represents change. To me, Clinton does and will do whatever it takes to become President. She has a lost a lot of primaries. And now she's getting desperate. Getting negative. Doing things like this.
Basically the way she's conducted her campaign in the last few weeks has confirmed my suspicions of her. She will do anything to seize power even if that means sacrificing the very values that attract voters to her in the first place.
I'm not bothered by issues of "experience" because every President surrounds him or herself with experts on everything. What he doesn't know, he can learn. And charisma does matter. Charisma can help a leader convince other countries that we are not the hate-mongering war machine that Bush made us appear to be. I think that is important.
I also hate how some Clinton supporters use a "false consciousness" argument. Their argument states that if I don't support Clinton it's because I'm less aware of gender issues or less enlightened, or the only reason someone could disagree with her or decide not to vote for her is misogyny. I agree that some people probably dislike her because she's a woman.
But then there are those of us who dislike the way she's campaigning and what she's beginning to represent.
Or maybe it's not so much that we dislike Clinton, it's more that we like Obama.
I like Barack!

Sick

Son has been sick off and on ("on" being Tuesday afternoon, Wednesday, Thursday afternoon, Friday night). He has the afternoon fever thing going on. So much so that he slept in our bed with me last night while poor MB was stuck with the kid's double bed. Son had a 102 degree fever, then his body felt like hot coals, then he was super sweaty. Finally, he was okay. That was around 1 a.m.
He woke up several times last night, talking and gesturing. He inherited this from MB. Once he had his hand up like he was trying to catch something. He was saying "het, het." (as near as I could figure).
Another time he woke up and I thought he was going to throw up or something. He was grunting and opening and closing his hands like beaks. He went to the bathroom and I kept asking him, "What's wrong? What's wrong?" He finally yelled, "Fingers!" and went back to bed.
Needless to say, I didn't sleep well last night. The night before that we foolishly stayed up to get closure on "Dexter." I'm actually glad, because now I need all my energy to freak out about the DFL which is in 44 days and, as you probably need not be reminded, I haven't written it yet. AND I want a friend to take photographs for it. Which means I need to finish in the next week. No pressure!!
So if I'm mean to you, please attribute it to the fact that I haven't slept and I'm pretty much having an anxiety attack 24/7.

Feeling a Little Nostalgic

Tonight I posted at TWIT about Idol. But I was feeling a little nostalgic for Chris. So watch this: Daughtry covers U2.
I hadn't seen it. And they're touring. Heads up, Erin Alice. They're coming your way!!

Another Long Weekend

Another three-day weekend glimmers on the horizon. To be filled with: kids to watch, Son's Birthday Party, excessive amounts of grading, fiction contest to judge, "Pride and Prejudice" to watch, what else? I'm sure there will be food and drink as well. Melting of the snow, I hope, perhaps an outdoor run. Right now I'm freezing, so that doesn't seem likely.
Today I plan to go work out, have a few meetings, go to the Dollar Store for goodies (for Son's party), buy Son a birthday gift, maybe do some grading. I swear, I've read so much student prose lately (summaries, Vista posts, drafts of stories, rhetorical analyses) that I don't think I would recognize a good idea or well written sentence if one ran up and attacked me with a blunt object. Not that I want to be attacked with a blunt object. It's just...
Time to face the real world. Which means sitting on the couch drinking tea for at least another half an hour.
Happy President's Day weekend! I'll be remembering how, 7 years ago, we spent the weekend in the hospital watching TV, letting people bring us food all day, trying to forget that I had staples in my abdomen. Aah! The good old days.

AWP: the numbers

Literary luminaries spotted: 4 (not at panels or readings: Robert Bly, Charles Baxter, Howard Norman, David Kirby)
Bad readings attended: 2
Martinis consumed: 1 (the most expensive!! martini ever, $15)
Amazing meals consumed: 2 (Union Square Cafe, Balthazar)
Delicious soups consumed: 1 (Curry Cauliflower and Chickpea, very spicy!)
Shopping trips: 2 (both to H & M)
Items purchased: 6 (two shirts, one sweater, jacket, purse, nightgown)
Movies watched: 2 (27 Dresses, Michael Clayton)
Souvenirs purchased: 2 (I heart NY shirt & 3-D drawing pad for Son)
Souvenirs not-purchased: ?? (shot glass, snow globe, MOMA paraphernalia)
Bagels consumed: 2 (one from hotel lobby, not good; one from Dean & Deluca, delicious)
Muffins consumed: 1 (hazelnut cappuccino from D & D)
Beer consumed: 1 (Stella at a pub)
Wine consumed: Without number (including more than 1 $12 "red" from hotel bar), half-bottle at dinner with friends, bottle at dinner with friends. I guess that's it.
Walks through Central Park: 1
Magazines read: 5 (Two People magazines, one Marie Claire, One Allure, one Men's Vogue)
Episodes of "Law and Order" watched on plane home: 2

Back from AWP/NYC

I'm back! For a moment at JFK, it seemed touch and go, but we made it back only about 40 minutes late.
In general, New York was wonderful. I have to say I didn't attend any panels that were great and amazing (because I missed Otterbutt's panel! Damn!), but everything else was wonderful and amazing.
To wit: great food at both Union Square Cafe and Balthazar. Huge, gigantic sandwich at Carnegie Deli. Good beer at a pub. Great soup at Hale and Hearty. Good bagel and muffin at Dean and Deluca. Much shopping at H&M.
Saw "Rock-N-Roll" by Tom Stoppard. Amazing performances by Rufus Sewell and Brian Cox. Fantastic set and music. Smart and touching.
Saw "27 Dresses" at Time's Square AMC. Everything a romantic comedy should be: romantic and funny, and not as bad as the critics said. What do they know? Also, saw a trailer for the new "Sex and the City" movie. There was an audible gasp when the trailer started (among the mostly female audience, I should say).
Saw "Michael Clayton" in my hotel room while eating chocolate. Trust HighTouch, it IS as good as she says. Amazing. I want to see it again. I love George Clooney!!
Went to MOMA on Sunday morning. Mind blowing. Around every corner another masterpiece. And some cool stuff that I'd never heard of, most notably "Stillwater" by Roni Horn (if you click the link it will take you to the Tate, which owns a copy of "Stillwater" but also an article by Horn about it. Cool!). Footnoted photographs. Brilliant.
All in all, a really great trip. I will now set about my plan of convincing MB that we need to take a trip without Son for our 10th anniversary, destination unknown.

Off to AWP/NYC

Bright and early tomorrow I will be whisked away to NYC with Hightouchmegastore. There we will see Otterbutt and other great friends from Grad School. I have plans to meet up with a friend from High School and TommyZ from Grad School #1. I am excited to eat, drink and be merry! It turns out that it is warmer in NYC then it is here. Yeah!
But first I had to empty the camera. I found these gems. Enjoy.







Son likes his water!







The New Year's Day Soup I made on the 3rd or so. It was delicious! A yellow curry noodle soup. But don't eat those red peppers! They are dangerous! At least according to Middlebrow.















A few weeks ago, Son lost his top two front teeth when he collided with Gus the Wonder dog in the living room. There was lots of blood and crying but afterwards he said, "It didn't hurt." They were loose anyway. No sign of the replacements, though.
Also, he loves this black cherry soda. And I do too!

Yes, yes, and Yes!

Apparently I am not the only one who goes full-scale anxiety attack before a big, fun trip. Witness the title of High Touch Mega Store's latest post: to which my title replies, Yes! Last night when I was lamenting the strength of the headache coming on, MB said, "You're just like Hightouch!" And??
So, instead of going to bed and getting a good night's sleep, I cracked open a beer (is that on the vegan diet? Yes, but not on the skinny bitch diet. They say it makes my ass fat. So be it.) and started addressing envelopes. What? you may ask. What does this have to do with preparing and packing for NYC?
Well. It is just one of the many things I feel need to be done before I can depart with a clear conscience. Why? Well, I have been meaning to send out my wonderful stories and essays that have been languishing on my laptop and no where else. Now, when I send out the last two stories, I will have stories and essays languishing at reviews all over the country. What an accomplishment!
Also, I have a few friends whose babies I have not yet sent gifts to. Those may have to wait until after NYC. I also need to do laundry so that I can pack. Also, I need to think and rethink several key outfits. Also, I need to figure out how I'm going to workout in NYC so that I don't gain ten pounds, maybe only five. I also need to choose a book to take and decide which magazines I'm going to buy. This will be done at the airport with Hightouch so that we can double our magazine buying power.
I hope, desperately, that there is a trashy romantic comedy for me to watch on the plane. Oh, I also need to load up my ipod. Right? Yes!!
Also I need to make sure to love up on Son, indulge him ridiculously, feed him sweets so that he remembers me and misses me. Also, if I die in a plane crash, I don't want him to only remember how I scream at him, "Go to sleep!" at approximately 10:14 each evening. Last night he did a little sleepwalking, then fell back to sleep in our bed and it endeared him to me greatly.
I probably have some "grading" to do and other "school" related things to tick off the ole list but honestly, that's not what I worry about. What do I worry about?
It's like that scene from "Sex in the City" when Carrie and Burger are fighting about scrunchies and she asks that women in line in front of her what borough she's from and the woman gets all excited because she's from Texas or something. That's me. I'm the woman from Texas in a scrunchie standing in front of a petite little Carrie who's all fashioned out. Except she'll be saying, "Oh, look. That poor woman is from Utah. I can tell by her tights/dress/hair/lack of fashion."
But, on the other hand, I get to eat like a pig and spot famous writers. I promise to keep a log of famous people sightings (on panels that I plan to attend do not count.) And people from past. I think they'll be there in droves.
They better be! I can't wait to see them!

Love

I've been tagged by HTMS to declare what I love. It seems a good antidote to the last post, where I seemed to be a very bitter and hateful person. I'm not! I swear.
And just to prove it, I'll say what I love.

1. This might be stealing, just a bit, from Hightouch, but I love all forms of escapist entertainment: movies, books, magazines, TV shows, the internets, videos on YouTube, crossword puzzles, etc, etc, etc. Over Christmas break I worried that I loved these things more than my actual life. That if I could live in a movie theater and not come out, I would. It's easier than being me, pretending I'm someone else for just a little while. Maybe it's because for awhile I can not worry or think, but just absorb. Some of my favorite escapes: American Idol, mysteries, People magazine (or any gossip rag, really, including Extra!), half-hour comedies, recently "Dexter," music videos on YouTube and others. I can't wait until our trip to New York where I can read magazines for four hours on the airplane and not feel guilty that I'm not working on all the things I should be working on right now.
2. I love the outdoors. I like the quiet and I like taking Gus for trail runs. I like hiking with Son once we get past the initial half-hour of complaining. I like camping. I like having limited meal options and how the food tastes so much better because I'm eating it outside. I love cooking Tofu Pups over an open fire. I love drinking wine beneath the stars and eating dark chocolate. I love waking up first and making coffee. I like not showering for days and how good a hot breakfast tastes when we stop in a diner on the way home. I love hot chocolate. I love snuggling in my sleeping bag when I know it's cold outside.
3. I love writing. I haven't had one of those out of body writing experiences lately, but I've had them enough to keep writing. It's like a writer's high. I stop thinking about what I'm writing and I'm in the moment. Afterwards I look at what I wrote and think, where did that come from? Actually, it's been awhile since I've felt that way, but I feel it's an experience I can have again. I have to remember sometimes that the experience is out there. I just have to give myself time to get there. I was talking to my students about writing and explaining this to them. I'm not sure if they believed me, but I told them it's the one thing I know. That if you write what you know you're going to write, it's not going to be good. But if you let go what you think you're going to write and just write, then you'll get somewhere. And if after two years, you have one story you still think is good, you're lucky. I read a story I wrote two years ago and when I was done I thought, "That's a good story." It doesn't happen very often. So I thought I'd enjoy the moment.

Thanks Hightouch for tagging me. I tag ErinAlice, Theorris, SusanSinclair, Otterbutt, and Academom. It's good to remember what we love. I'm looking forward to summer. Remember sunshine and warmth?

Am I Wrong?

Am I wrong to want to walk into class tomorrow and write on the board in big black letters: I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK!?
Now first, is this true? The answer has to be yes. Having just read their discussion posts which were supposed to be rhetorical analyses but finding instead knee jerk diatribes about the content of the essay (which was about Hispanic-Americans and assimilation), I would have to say, yes, that I don't really want to hear their opinions about the essay so much as what the essay actually said. Not what they think it said, or what their personal experiences with the subject matter of the essay have led them to believe, but what the essay actually said.
Luckily tomorrow we will be talking about a selection from Everything Bad is Good For You, and not the essay about assimilation. I hope I never have to teach that essay again, because I will yell at them. I will. Yell.

Another diatribe in my head that I thought about blogging about was
You know you're not exercising if:
While walking on the treadmill you are talking on your cell phone. Please!! Save me from these people!
You can bench press 300 pounds but you can't see your knees because of your belly (yes, chubby guy with huge arms, I'm talking to you!)
After interacting with the exercise machine, you are not sweating.
After five minutes on the stationary bike, you stop to eat a granola bar and read a magazine.

See? At heart I am really a very mean person. Maybe it is because today is Tuesday, but it feels like Monday. Or maybe it's because I had to read a bunch of student posts. One was so nonsensical that I just stopped reading it. I had to. For my own sanity.
And then I had to watch "American Idol" to remember that the world is really full of idiots. And also that life is funny, just not always intentionally.

Do Nothing Day

Perhaps you did not know it, but today has been Do Nothing Day. I believe we observe this day in preparation for an extra day off school. You know, we have the extra day, so we thought we'd waste it by staying indoors, drinking tea, possibly going to the store for chips (but don't over exert yourself!), and maybe reading magazines. Maybe you try to send stuff out but realize that all literary magazines have stopped reading, because they don't want to be bothered by your crap. Maybe you selected a delicious vegan salad recipe to take to dinner tomorrow night, trying hard to be a good guest by not expecting to be able to eat anything they might be serving. (Note to self: don't forget bread and wine!). Maybe you convince Son to veganize his menu for Son's Turn to Choose Dinner without him really knowing it (score one for Mom!). Maybe you think about ways to remove all the dairy products from the Valentine bags of M&Ms (they come in bags of just green! What?) that have already appeared on shelves (is it just me or are they trying to accelerate time?) Maybe you watch your psychotic dog chasing light and shadows around the room. Maybe you let Son do some "magic" tricks for you.
Sigh. Maybe you look forward to Sunday night, because there will be a new "Masterpiece" on, Northanger Abbey, I think. I'm almost done with the book.
Maybe you spent hours and hours on the internet without really reading or doing anything. (But maybe you listened to some music that you don't really like, but for reasons unknown (American Idol?) are now stuck in your head, incompletely.)
I hope that you were able to embrace your sloth. If you'll please excuse me, I have nothing to do.