Monday night I worked the late shift on the reference desk; when I left at 9 pm it was snowing and apparently my town had misplaced all its salt trucks, so the drive home was slow and uneasy. Tuesday we'd had about four inches of snow, and when I left work at 6 pm the freezing rain had begun, so it was another uncomfortable drive home. The freezing rain continued until after I'd gone to bed last night. When I woke, we had a good 9 inches of snow on the ground; I lay there in bed listening to the school closings and dreading how difficult it was going to be to get to work.
Then the miracle happened -- my university was declared CLOSED until at least noon! Understand, it's a residential campus and they very, very, very rarely shut down -- maybe twice in the last 15 years or so. By 10:30 in the morning it had stopped snowing (leaving a little more than a foot of the stuff on the ground -- according to the evening news, this is our biggest snowstorm since 1996) and they'd updated the closing to an all-day thing. Whoooo!
I finally gritted my teeth and put on my boots and headed out to shovel the driveway in the early afternoon. The sun had come out, and although the temperature was only in the mid-twenties it was actually kind of pleasant out. And I wasn't out there five minutes before a neighbor I'd never met materialized in my driveway with a shovel in her hand and a smile on her face, asking if she could help. Considering that yesterday morning a good friend of mine showed up to dig me out after that first wave of snow, I think I've had some ridiculous shoveling-assistance luck this week.
After shoveling I came in and had a lovely, lazy afternoon of listening to music, watching a bit of tennis on TV, and listening to my cats purr in the sunshine. You really can't ask for a nicer snow day.
* * * * *
The reason humans make music is that we are in love with time.
* * * * *
Yes, it's true that my favorite rockstar is the halftime entertainment at this year's Super Bowl. He's also going out on tour in a couple of months. Tickets for the US dates go on sale Monday. I'm planning on chasing him to Denver and Chicago; unfortunately, there are no other dates within anything like plausible driving distance for me, and I can't really swing more than one fly-in show this tour. But at least I get to see the E Street Band at least a couple more times in my life, which I wasn't sure would happen after the last tour. My little three-city road trip (aka the "summer vacation in the E Street Nation") this past August was so energizing and inspiring; I'm tremendously glad to be looking forward to a couple more evenings spent in the company of the greatest rock & roll band ever.
* * * * *
So I have all these poems in this series, and some of them really need the context of the series in order to work, I think -- or at least they need to be read alongside a couple of the other poems. Can anybody think of journals that especially like to get clumps of related poems, and might like to publish at least a couple or three of them? I don't think I want to try to pull together a chapbook -- the poems are coming along quickly enough that there will be a full-length ms. ready to send out within a year or so, I think -- but I'd love to get a few of them out there. Recommendations, anyone?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Dancing into history
Like pretty much everyone else, I watched the Inauguration on Tuesday and was tremendously moved by the power of the occasion. (I credit Itzhak Perlman and Yo-Yo Ma for reducing me to a blubbering mess, though I wasn't far from there to start with.)
Later in the evening, I did something I have never done before on an Inauguration Day: I watched a couple hours of the coverage of the inaugural balls. The Obamas looked, dare I say it, completely adorable as they danced together. Like many people in this country right now, I'm a little bit in love with them, with the whole family (Sasha and Malia are just so completely beautiful!). And I recognize that part of what I'm in love with is the illusion of them, not the reality of the fallible, imperfect human beings who will inevitably screw up at some point (being President, and even being First Lady, is like being a parent; it's just such a huge job that it's not possible to do it without screwing up somewhere along the way). But I think I, and maybe we, need that illusion right now, the illusion of the shiny happy perfect family and the visionary leader who will haul us up from the crappy place we've fallen into. It's been so long since I felt any kind of real affection for the occupants of the White House, and I need to feel this for a little while, just as an antidote to these last few poisoned years.
I never really understood how people just a couple of decades older than me felt about the Kennedys, back in the "Camelot" days -- until now. I think how I feel about the Obama family is probably a lot like what folks my parents' age (I was born in 1961, same as President Obama) felt about the Kennedy family. Except, of course, that when JFK took office, you couldn't sit there and watch the inaugural balls live on your TV until the wee hours. (And everyone criticizing Michelle's dress can just hush. She would look graceful and elegant in a paper bag, and she looked absolutely fine in that dress.)
Later on, I watched an online video of the Obamas dancing at one of the balls -- not the ballroom dancing with each other, but cutting loose a bit and dancing with the crowd. And there was Barack, big as life, DOING THE BUMP. If ever there was a moment that really drove home for me the fact that he and I are exactly the same age, it was that. Barack, Barack, Barack. You and I both know that we danced that way in the Seventies, and I love you to death, Mr. President, but could we possibly just consider LEAVING that stuff back in the Seventies?
DOING THE BUMP. Lordy.
Yes, it's blowing my mind a little bit that the President is exactly my age -- about two months younger, to be precise. He and I have had very very different lives, of course, but just by virtue of sharing some of the same cultural milestones -- the assassinations of MLK and JFK are some of my earlier vivid memories, for example, and my childhood was punctuated by Walter Cronkite on the evening news announcing how many American casualties there'd been that day in Vietnam; I vividly remember the day I learned what the word "casualty" meant -- it makes him seem more human to me than previous Presidents somehow. The night before the inauguration, I had a little trouble falling asleep (experiencing a bit of that "Christmas eve too excited to sleep" sensation) and it occurred to me that he was probably lying in bed wide awake, wide-eyed in the dark, silently imagining what the next day -- and the next four or hopefully eight years -- might be like. I've never really thought about a President in those little moments of humanity, before.
Nah, from what I've seen of him, he's the epitome of calmness and control. He was probably sleeping like a baby. :)
Anyway. This isn't a blog about politics, or rockstar celebrity Presidents. It's supposed to be a blog about poetry, and writing. So to that end, I will say that the other evening I finally got some poems sent out to a couple of places, for the first time in quite a few months. (I've been sending out the book manuscript, but not individual poems lately.) It felt pretty good. And I'm mulling over a possible grant application, as well -- which will have to be done this weekend if I'm going to do it (eek). Maybe I'm just a little bit inspired, seeing what somebody my age can achieve with a lot of really hard work (okay, in his case it's also involved just a wee bit of brilliance, talent, timing, and luck). Maybe I'm feeling like it's a little bit okay to believe right now.
And so it is.
Later in the evening, I did something I have never done before on an Inauguration Day: I watched a couple hours of the coverage of the inaugural balls. The Obamas looked, dare I say it, completely adorable as they danced together. Like many people in this country right now, I'm a little bit in love with them, with the whole family (Sasha and Malia are just so completely beautiful!). And I recognize that part of what I'm in love with is the illusion of them, not the reality of the fallible, imperfect human beings who will inevitably screw up at some point (being President, and even being First Lady, is like being a parent; it's just such a huge job that it's not possible to do it without screwing up somewhere along the way). But I think I, and maybe we, need that illusion right now, the illusion of the shiny happy perfect family and the visionary leader who will haul us up from the crappy place we've fallen into. It's been so long since I felt any kind of real affection for the occupants of the White House, and I need to feel this for a little while, just as an antidote to these last few poisoned years.
I never really understood how people just a couple of decades older than me felt about the Kennedys, back in the "Camelot" days -- until now. I think how I feel about the Obama family is probably a lot like what folks my parents' age (I was born in 1961, same as President Obama) felt about the Kennedy family. Except, of course, that when JFK took office, you couldn't sit there and watch the inaugural balls live on your TV until the wee hours. (And everyone criticizing Michelle's dress can just hush. She would look graceful and elegant in a paper bag, and she looked absolutely fine in that dress.)
Later on, I watched an online video of the Obamas dancing at one of the balls -- not the ballroom dancing with each other, but cutting loose a bit and dancing with the crowd. And there was Barack, big as life, DOING THE BUMP. If ever there was a moment that really drove home for me the fact that he and I are exactly the same age, it was that. Barack, Barack, Barack. You and I both know that we danced that way in the Seventies, and I love you to death, Mr. President, but could we possibly just consider LEAVING that stuff back in the Seventies?
DOING THE BUMP. Lordy.
Yes, it's blowing my mind a little bit that the President is exactly my age -- about two months younger, to be precise. He and I have had very very different lives, of course, but just by virtue of sharing some of the same cultural milestones -- the assassinations of MLK and JFK are some of my earlier vivid memories, for example, and my childhood was punctuated by Walter Cronkite on the evening news announcing how many American casualties there'd been that day in Vietnam; I vividly remember the day I learned what the word "casualty" meant -- it makes him seem more human to me than previous Presidents somehow. The night before the inauguration, I had a little trouble falling asleep (experiencing a bit of that "Christmas eve too excited to sleep" sensation) and it occurred to me that he was probably lying in bed wide awake, wide-eyed in the dark, silently imagining what the next day -- and the next four or hopefully eight years -- might be like. I've never really thought about a President in those little moments of humanity, before.
Nah, from what I've seen of him, he's the epitome of calmness and control. He was probably sleeping like a baby. :)
Anyway. This isn't a blog about politics, or rockstar celebrity Presidents. It's supposed to be a blog about poetry, and writing. So to that end, I will say that the other evening I finally got some poems sent out to a couple of places, for the first time in quite a few months. (I've been sending out the book manuscript, but not individual poems lately.) It felt pretty good. And I'm mulling over a possible grant application, as well -- which will have to be done this weekend if I'm going to do it (eek). Maybe I'm just a little bit inspired, seeing what somebody my age can achieve with a lot of really hard work (okay, in his case it's also involved just a wee bit of brilliance, talent, timing, and luck). Maybe I'm feeling like it's a little bit okay to believe right now.
And so it is.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Come on up for the rising
The "We Are One" concert on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, televised on HBO this afternoon (on an open signal so that even we non-subscribers could view it), was just remarkable. Bruce Springsteen! Queen Latifah! U2! Pete Seeger! My neighbor (okay, he lives a few miles away) John Mellencamp! So many nice moments, and watching the Obama family dancing happily to Stevie Wonder made me absurdly happy. I think it's going to take a long time for Springsteen and Seeger to stop grinning. Who would have ever thought I'd see those two performing for the President-elect with Lincoln's visage looming in the background. Very, very, very cool.
* * * * *
Speaking of rising, the temperature finally rose above freezing for a few hours yesterday. It sank down again today, but stayed in the twenties, which is still considerably warmer than it was late last week. And I'm trying to break out of my own frozen stasis & get my act together about sending out some poems. That's tomorrow's task. Although I may work on a grant application instead. In any case, the plan is to work on getting stuff out there. Because it's not like anybody's going to do it for me.
* * * * *
Here's a brand-new draft, which I'll leave up for a day or so.
[snip!]
* * * * *
Speaking of rising, the temperature finally rose above freezing for a few hours yesterday. It sank down again today, but stayed in the twenties, which is still considerably warmer than it was late last week. And I'm trying to break out of my own frozen stasis & get my act together about sending out some poems. That's tomorrow's task. Although I may work on a grant application instead. In any case, the plan is to work on getting stuff out there. Because it's not like anybody's going to do it for me.
* * * * *
Here's a brand-new draft, which I'll leave up for a day or so.
[snip!]
Thursday, January 15, 2009
I wanna be where the bands are
The nice man on TV just informed me that tomorrow morning will be the coldest morning in five years. Should be around twelve below. I know that's nothing to you folks in Minnesnowta and so forth, but around here, we think this is pretty freaking cold. Especially those of us with drafty old houses. I have a new favorite thing: a bright red, super soft, fleecy hat that is soft and cozy enough to wear to bed.
At least it isn't icy, or even snowy. That helps.
* * * * *
Along with the depressing news about the Dodge Festival, I've also learned that the Writers' Center of Indiana has laid off its staff, given up its rented space, and cancelled its spring classes due to lack of funding. And there will be more such news to come, I'm sure. Sigh.
* * * * *
On a happier note, check out -- and submit to! -- the Found Poetry Project. Be sure to read the "about" section, which explains what sort of found poetry they're looking for.
Other things that are pleasant to contemplate (especially when it's this cold out): the Fine Arts Work Center has published its schedule of summer workshops, and the Indiana University Writers' Conference has announced its 2009 faculty. These are both very good programs, though very different from one another. If I had the money, I'd go to FAWC again this summer. But at least I can look forward to attending the IUWC readings in June, which are free whether you're attending the conference itself or not.
* * * * *
Also looking forward to Sunday's celebratory inaugural kickoff, featuring Bruce Springsteen (who'll be singing "This Land Is Your Land") and a ton of other fabulous performers. HBO will be televising a couple hours of it later in the evening, and will be opening up their signal so that anyone with satellite or cable can tune in, even if (like me) they don't get HBO. Very cool.
And despite the Rick Warren thing (I'm still peeved about that), I am looking forward to the Inauguration itself on Tuesday. I plan to take a couple hours off work midday so I can go watch the festivities.
* * * * *
I'm making an iTunes playlist of songs that seem to go along with my current writing project. I'm really starting to think about the whole of it more than about the individual poems, which is something I've never done before. The playlist has lots of Springsteen and Indigo Girls (pretty predictable if you know me), as well as some Joni Mitchell, Nils Lofgren, Ani DiFranco, Catie Curtis, and some other folks. Like the poetry project, it's a work in progress. It's mostly songs about what it's like to be a musician, be on the road, etc. and a few songs about being a music fan: "Where the Bands Are," "Language or the Kiss," "Keith Don't Go," "Refuge of the Roads," and so on. Fun stuff.
I've also been listening quite a bit to the new Springsteen album (yes, I know it doesn't come out for another couple of weeks... sshhhhh... don't ask so many questions). I'm really loving it, though in some ways it's different from any of his previous work. It's very textural, and very ... mature, I guess you'd say. He's working with themes of mortality, and of appreciating what you've got while you can because life is short. It's an album he couldn't have made thirty years ago, or even five years ago, I suspect. I look forward to buying it on January 27 when it officially drops & will probably stop on my way home from work to pick it up rather than trusting an online pre-order to get it to me on time. Yes, I am such a fangirl.
At least it isn't icy, or even snowy. That helps.
* * * * *
Along with the depressing news about the Dodge Festival, I've also learned that the Writers' Center of Indiana has laid off its staff, given up its rented space, and cancelled its spring classes due to lack of funding. And there will be more such news to come, I'm sure. Sigh.
* * * * *
On a happier note, check out -- and submit to! -- the Found Poetry Project. Be sure to read the "about" section, which explains what sort of found poetry they're looking for.
Other things that are pleasant to contemplate (especially when it's this cold out): the Fine Arts Work Center has published its schedule of summer workshops, and the Indiana University Writers' Conference has announced its 2009 faculty. These are both very good programs, though very different from one another. If I had the money, I'd go to FAWC again this summer. But at least I can look forward to attending the IUWC readings in June, which are free whether you're attending the conference itself or not.
* * * * *
Also looking forward to Sunday's celebratory inaugural kickoff, featuring Bruce Springsteen (who'll be singing "This Land Is Your Land") and a ton of other fabulous performers. HBO will be televising a couple hours of it later in the evening, and will be opening up their signal so that anyone with satellite or cable can tune in, even if (like me) they don't get HBO. Very cool.
And despite the Rick Warren thing (I'm still peeved about that), I am looking forward to the Inauguration itself on Tuesday. I plan to take a couple hours off work midday so I can go watch the festivities.
* * * * *
I'm making an iTunes playlist of songs that seem to go along with my current writing project. I'm really starting to think about the whole of it more than about the individual poems, which is something I've never done before. The playlist has lots of Springsteen and Indigo Girls (pretty predictable if you know me), as well as some Joni Mitchell, Nils Lofgren, Ani DiFranco, Catie Curtis, and some other folks. Like the poetry project, it's a work in progress. It's mostly songs about what it's like to be a musician, be on the road, etc. and a few songs about being a music fan: "Where the Bands Are," "Language or the Kiss," "Keith Don't Go," "Refuge of the Roads," and so on. Fun stuff.
I've also been listening quite a bit to the new Springsteen album (yes, I know it doesn't come out for another couple of weeks... sshhhhh... don't ask so many questions). I'm really loving it, though in some ways it's different from any of his previous work. It's very textural, and very ... mature, I guess you'd say. He's working with themes of mortality, and of appreciating what you've got while you can because life is short. It's an album he couldn't have made thirty years ago, or even five years ago, I suspect. I look forward to buying it on January 27 when it officially drops & will probably stop on my way home from work to pick it up rather than trusting an online pre-order to get it to me on time. Yes, I am such a fangirl.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
terminal time-deficit disorder
Many, many thanks to everyone who posted recommendations on my previous post! It also occurs to me that Charlie Jensen's chapbook The Strange Case of Maribel Dixon is another great example of the kind of thing I'm thinking of -- also Carol Guess' Tinderbox Lawn, which I mentioned a while back. Poem-beads that string together to make a story, though you have to guess at much of the narrative. Maybe I should go to some fiction panels at AWP.... Anyway, I'm keeping track of the recommendations, so keep 'em coming!
* * * * *
Speaking of AWP, it's coming up in a month! If anyone wants to make a point of getting together, drop me an email and I can give you my cell phone number. I'll also be shelling out the extra $ for wi-fi in my room at the Hilton (you know, one of those amenities you get for free at every cheap Best Western in the world, that the fancy-schmancy Hilton charges extra for...) so I'll be checking email every so often while I'm there, as well. I'll be there by Wednesday evening, and company for dinner might be welcome! I'm not averse to just putting on my bunny slippers (er, metaphorically speaking, that is... I don't own any actual bunny slippers) and chilling out in my room with a good book that night, either. So, no pressure.
* * * * *
Thanks to the Arts Council of Indianapolis for this tidbit, which some of you may want to pass along to your students:
Employment Opportunity: Putney School in southeast Vermont seeks writers, visual & performing artists for Summer Programs positions.
The Putney School Summer in southeast Vermont is seeking to hire college students, recent college grads, and young art professionals as apprentice teachers/dormheads with experience in the following areas:
visual arts: drawing, painting, filmmaking, photography, sculpture, ceramics
performing arts: theater, modern dance
creative writing: fiction, poetry, playwriting, multi-genre
Apprentice teachers/dormheads are paid $2,000 plus room and board for 7 weeks in the summer. Duties include supporting the residential life of the high school students – living in the dorms, supervising recreational activities and field trips, serving as assistant teachers in one arts workshop (morning or afternoon) and also designing and leading an evening arts workshop. Candidates must be at least 21 years old.
More Details: www.putneyschoolsummer.org/contact_us/employment.html
* * * * *
And thanks to Esquire Magazine, of all places, for this bit of amusement: Steven Van Zandt: What I've Learned. Little morsels of wit and wisdom (more or less) from Little Steven (Underground Garage, E Street Band, Silvio Dante). The guy is funny as hell. If he ever gets tired of trying to save rock&roll from its untimely demise, he could go be a comic or something. "We are all suffering from a terminal time-deficit disorder. What'd you do today? I don't know, but I had no time for it."
Yeah. Me too, Steve... me too. ;)
* * * * *
Addendum: Condolences to poet laureate Kay Ryan, whose life partner, Carol Adair, recently passed away (here's her obituary). Thanks to Choriamb for this news.
* * * * *
Speaking of AWP, it's coming up in a month! If anyone wants to make a point of getting together, drop me an email and I can give you my cell phone number. I'll also be shelling out the extra $ for wi-fi in my room at the Hilton (you know, one of those amenities you get for free at every cheap Best Western in the world, that the fancy-schmancy Hilton charges extra for...) so I'll be checking email every so often while I'm there, as well. I'll be there by Wednesday evening, and company for dinner might be welcome! I'm not averse to just putting on my bunny slippers (er, metaphorically speaking, that is... I don't own any actual bunny slippers) and chilling out in my room with a good book that night, either. So, no pressure.
* * * * *
Thanks to the Arts Council of Indianapolis for this tidbit, which some of you may want to pass along to your students:
Employment Opportunity: Putney School in southeast Vermont seeks writers, visual & performing artists for Summer Programs positions.
The Putney School Summer in southeast Vermont is seeking to hire college students, recent college grads, and young art professionals as apprentice teachers/dormheads with experience in the following areas:
visual arts: drawing, painting, filmmaking, photography, sculpture, ceramics
performing arts: theater, modern dance
creative writing: fiction, poetry, playwriting, multi-genre
Apprentice teachers/dormheads are paid $2,000 plus room and board for 7 weeks in the summer. Duties include supporting the residential life of the high school students – living in the dorms, supervising recreational activities and field trips, serving as assistant teachers in one arts workshop (morning or afternoon) and also designing and leading an evening arts workshop. Candidates must be at least 21 years old.
More Details: www.putneyschoolsummer.org/contact_us/employment.html
* * * * *
And thanks to Esquire Magazine, of all places, for this bit of amusement: Steven Van Zandt: What I've Learned. Little morsels of wit and wisdom (more or less) from Little Steven (Underground Garage, E Street Band, Silvio Dante). The guy is funny as hell. If he ever gets tired of trying to save rock&roll from its untimely demise, he could go be a comic or something. "We are all suffering from a terminal time-deficit disorder. What'd you do today? I don't know, but I had no time for it."
Yeah. Me too, Steve... me too. ;)
* * * * *
Addendum: Condolences to poet laureate Kay Ryan, whose life partner, Carol Adair, recently passed away (here's her obituary). Thanks to Choriamb for this news.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Astonished...
... to find that I have over forty poems written towards the new series or project or whatever it is that I'm working on. Some will end up getting junked, many will end up getting revised -- of course. But I didn't realize how much work I'd done already. Wow.
Along those lines, I'm looking for recommendations. I'm interested in books of "poetry as biography" (whether of historical or fictional personages, I don't care which). I recently finished leadbelly by Tyehimba Jess, which is a good example of the kind of thing I'm looking for -- and is a phenomenal, powerful collection to boot. I'm currently reading Your Own, Sylvia by Stephanie Hemphill, which is another one; I'm not blown away by the individual poems, but I like the concept, the way the poet writes from a bunch of different points of view & includes footnotes to explain some of the biographical details. And while I was in Colorado for Christmas, I spent a few hours at the Tattered Cover Bookstore (aka "heaven") in Denver & picked up It's Hard Being Queen: The Dusty Springfield Poems by Jeanette Lynes. Haven't read that one yet, but it looks most intriguing.
Are there others I should know about? I'm interested in how others have worked with similar material -- chronology, plot, structure. I'm toying with the idea of interspersing bits of ephemera among the poems -- snippets from interviews and articles, that kind of thing -- and am currently debating about how much of the plot (you know, the "facts") I need to lay out & how much I want the reader to have to trust the gaps.
Books that aren't necessarily biographical per se, but which use individual poems to tell a larger story, would be of interest as well. I'm less interested in the "verse novel" sort of thing than in books of individual poems that fall together to tell someone's story. What I'm envisioning has more in common with a series of linked short stories than with a novel, if that makes sense.
I'm also interested in poems that use the imagery of rock & roll. Those are a little easier to find, I think, but I bet there's some I don't know about.
Any & all recommendations are most welcome!
Also: Happy New Year one and all! May 2009 bring us all prosperity, happiness, and the right words at the right time.
Along those lines, I'm looking for recommendations. I'm interested in books of "poetry as biography" (whether of historical or fictional personages, I don't care which). I recently finished leadbelly by Tyehimba Jess, which is a good example of the kind of thing I'm looking for -- and is a phenomenal, powerful collection to boot. I'm currently reading Your Own, Sylvia by Stephanie Hemphill, which is another one; I'm not blown away by the individual poems, but I like the concept, the way the poet writes from a bunch of different points of view & includes footnotes to explain some of the biographical details. And while I was in Colorado for Christmas, I spent a few hours at the Tattered Cover Bookstore (aka "heaven") in Denver & picked up It's Hard Being Queen: The Dusty Springfield Poems by Jeanette Lynes. Haven't read that one yet, but it looks most intriguing.
Are there others I should know about? I'm interested in how others have worked with similar material -- chronology, plot, structure. I'm toying with the idea of interspersing bits of ephemera among the poems -- snippets from interviews and articles, that kind of thing -- and am currently debating about how much of the plot (you know, the "facts") I need to lay out & how much I want the reader to have to trust the gaps.
Books that aren't necessarily biographical per se, but which use individual poems to tell a larger story, would be of interest as well. I'm less interested in the "verse novel" sort of thing than in books of individual poems that fall together to tell someone's story. What I'm envisioning has more in common with a series of linked short stories than with a novel, if that makes sense.
I'm also interested in poems that use the imagery of rock & roll. Those are a little easier to find, I think, but I bet there's some I don't know about.
Any & all recommendations are most welcome!
Also: Happy New Year one and all! May 2009 bring us all prosperity, happiness, and the right words at the right time.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Down to the thin end of the year
My holiday travels began in terrifying fashion: as I was driving to Indianapolis, the drizzle began to freeze and within five minutes the roads went from wet to sheer ice. Cars were going every which way; I passed one really bad accident, a few fender-benders (one of which I saw happen), and a bunch of slide-offs. There was quite a bit of traffic on the highway, and for about ten miles -- maybe more -- we were all driving about 5 mph at most, easing over towards the left shoulder where we could get at least a little bit of traction. I was on a stretch of road with a drop-off on either side. It was the most frightened I have ever been in a car. I was this close to just yanking on the wheel (actually it would have taken the merest tap) and sending myself into the guardrail just to get it over with, since crashing seemed inevitable. I made it through without incident, somehow; it took me 2.5 hours to get from the north side of Bloomington to the south side of Martinsville (about 20 miles), and the 50-mile drive to the airport took me four hours.
Fortunately, I'd decided to book a "park'n'fly" deal at the airport Radisson, since I had a 7 am flight & had thought it would be nice to have a relaxing evening in a hotel room rather than leaving my house at butt o'clock in the morning. So at least the ice didn't make me miss my flight.
Family Christmas in Colorado was laid-back; we'd decided to exchange only stocking stuffers & did charitable donations in one another's names instead of presents. My sister & I spent several hours in the Tattered Cover bookstore in Denver, which was wonderful as always -- what a great bookstore! I restrained myself and only bought 3 or 4 books and 1 literary journal, but if I'd had unlimited funds (and luggage space) I could easily have left with a lot more than that. You'd think somebody who works in one of the best academic libraries in the country, & thus has super-convenient access to nearly any book in the world, wouldn't want to buy books all the time... but you'd be very, very wrong. It's an addiction, I'm telling you.
So it's been an interesting year. My first chapbook was published; I put together my first book-length ms. (finishing the first version of it on my first writing retreat) and started sending it around; I wasn't very good at all about sending poems out to journals; I wrote a lot of poems & started on a series altogether unlike anything I'd ever written or attempted before. A job promotion. My first earthquake. I also rediscovered music as a primary source of inspiration & creativity, going to a lot of good concerts including four Bruce Springsteen shows (one of which was pretty much the best concert I have ever seen by anyone ever) and coming back to playing guitar myself a bit, and bought my sweet little blue Stratocaster, becoming an electric guitar owner for the first time since 1979 when I sold my old single-pickup Gibson Melody Maker because I needed the money for college. (Sigh.)
And I continued to overuse parentheticals throughout the year (as you may have noticed already).
What's coming up in 2009? A new President, a new Springsteen album (and presumably a tour; I'm going to do my damnedest to make it to at least 2 or 3 shows), several new books I'm excited about, poems to read, poems to write. My first AWP to attend. Hard work to be done, all around. I hope to challenge myself creatively and push myself beyond my comfort zone, though just how that will happen remains to be seen. I want to waste less of my time; I'll be turning 48 and every year I feel more aware that time just isn't an unlimited thing. Resolutions? I don't know... maybe.
What about you? Are you making resolutions? What does 2009 hold in store for you?
I wish each of you the happiest of New Years. I'm grateful for everyone who humors me by reading this blog, and I look forward to meeting some of you at AWP!
Fortunately, I'd decided to book a "park'n'fly" deal at the airport Radisson, since I had a 7 am flight & had thought it would be nice to have a relaxing evening in a hotel room rather than leaving my house at butt o'clock in the morning. So at least the ice didn't make me miss my flight.
Family Christmas in Colorado was laid-back; we'd decided to exchange only stocking stuffers & did charitable donations in one another's names instead of presents. My sister & I spent several hours in the Tattered Cover bookstore in Denver, which was wonderful as always -- what a great bookstore! I restrained myself and only bought 3 or 4 books and 1 literary journal, but if I'd had unlimited funds (and luggage space) I could easily have left with a lot more than that. You'd think somebody who works in one of the best academic libraries in the country, & thus has super-convenient access to nearly any book in the world, wouldn't want to buy books all the time... but you'd be very, very wrong. It's an addiction, I'm telling you.
So it's been an interesting year. My first chapbook was published; I put together my first book-length ms. (finishing the first version of it on my first writing retreat) and started sending it around; I wasn't very good at all about sending poems out to journals; I wrote a lot of poems & started on a series altogether unlike anything I'd ever written or attempted before. A job promotion. My first earthquake. I also rediscovered music as a primary source of inspiration & creativity, going to a lot of good concerts including four Bruce Springsteen shows (one of which was pretty much the best concert I have ever seen by anyone ever) and coming back to playing guitar myself a bit, and bought my sweet little blue Stratocaster, becoming an electric guitar owner for the first time since 1979 when I sold my old single-pickup Gibson Melody Maker because I needed the money for college. (Sigh.)
And I continued to overuse parentheticals throughout the year (as you may have noticed already).
What's coming up in 2009? A new President, a new Springsteen album (and presumably a tour; I'm going to do my damnedest to make it to at least 2 or 3 shows), several new books I'm excited about, poems to read, poems to write. My first AWP to attend. Hard work to be done, all around. I hope to challenge myself creatively and push myself beyond my comfort zone, though just how that will happen remains to be seen. I want to waste less of my time; I'll be turning 48 and every year I feel more aware that time just isn't an unlimited thing. Resolutions? I don't know... maybe.
What about you? Are you making resolutions? What does 2009 hold in store for you?
I wish each of you the happiest of New Years. I'm grateful for everyone who humors me by reading this blog, and I look forward to meeting some of you at AWP!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Freeze and stasis
Solstice Blessings to all who celebrate that particular, oldest of holidays.
In my neck of the woods, it is currently 3 degrees, with winds gusting up to 25-30mph creating wind chills well below zero. I am bundled up in my drafty house, wearing a hat, lots of socks, a blanket, the new blue scarf a friend made for me, and all kinds of other interesting items of clothing. I need to get up and clean house in preparation for holiday travels, but it's so much warmer to stay bundled up underneath this blanket on the couch, listening to Little Steven's Underground Garage on the radio (it's the Christmas A-Go-Go edition, and you just gotta love an album with tracks like "Come All Ye Faithful Surfer Girls" and "Back Door Santa"). I'm just glad that I had the foresight to run all the errands I could think of yesterday, plus put gas in the car before it got this cold; the little door over the gas tank is most probably frozen shut now anyway.
But there are blessings to count. It's not as cold here as it is in Minnesnowta, for one thing. And we have only the slightest dusting of snow. And the ice that we had a few nights ago melted before it got cold again, and the bruises that I got from falling on aforementioned ice are beginning to fade. (They were pretty impressive, though. Oof.) My house is drafty but I have power, and running water, and soft fluffy blankets, and cats taking turns on the heated kitty-bed. Things could be a whole lot worse.
I'm already starting to look past the holidays at the year to come. I feel like I need to clear some space, though I'm not yet sure what that is going to entail. But there are things that have been getting crowded out of my life, especially the past couple of months. I've been atrociously atrocious at keeping up with email, and that's got to change. I've been even worse at getting poems sent out there, and if I make one New Year's resolution, getting poems sent out there is going to be it. And I need to be more proactive about promoting the chapbook, trying to get some readings here and there, et cetera. I have at least managed to get the book manuscript out to a bunch of places, and I need to keep that up. I need to spend more time reading, for sure. And working on poems for the new manuscript, though that's probably the one writing-related thing that hasn't been given short shrift lately. (Could stand to put some effort into revising the darn things, though.) And finally it's been a few weeks since I've picked up a guitar, and that has GOT to change: life is so much happier with more music in it.
So, yeah, I've got to clear some space, both physically and mentally. I promise I won't drop off the face of the Internet, but I may need to try to spend less time here. We'll see.
Anyway, in case I don't manage to blog again before my holiday travels, I hope you all have wonderful holidays -- that you are warm, and safe, and loved. And most importantly, I hope you only get caught under the mistletoe by someone you want to get mistletoeded by. :)
In my neck of the woods, it is currently 3 degrees, with winds gusting up to 25-30mph creating wind chills well below zero. I am bundled up in my drafty house, wearing a hat, lots of socks, a blanket, the new blue scarf a friend made for me, and all kinds of other interesting items of clothing. I need to get up and clean house in preparation for holiday travels, but it's so much warmer to stay bundled up underneath this blanket on the couch, listening to Little Steven's Underground Garage on the radio (it's the Christmas A-Go-Go edition, and you just gotta love an album with tracks like "Come All Ye Faithful Surfer Girls" and "Back Door Santa"). I'm just glad that I had the foresight to run all the errands I could think of yesterday, plus put gas in the car before it got this cold; the little door over the gas tank is most probably frozen shut now anyway.But there are blessings to count. It's not as cold here as it is in Minnesnowta, for one thing. And we have only the slightest dusting of snow. And the ice that we had a few nights ago melted before it got cold again, and the bruises that I got from falling on aforementioned ice are beginning to fade. (They were pretty impressive, though. Oof.) My house is drafty but I have power, and running water, and soft fluffy blankets, and cats taking turns on the heated kitty-bed. Things could be a whole lot worse.
I'm already starting to look past the holidays at the year to come. I feel like I need to clear some space, though I'm not yet sure what that is going to entail. But there are things that have been getting crowded out of my life, especially the past couple of months. I've been atrociously atrocious at keeping up with email, and that's got to change. I've been even worse at getting poems sent out there, and if I make one New Year's resolution, getting poems sent out there is going to be it. And I need to be more proactive about promoting the chapbook, trying to get some readings here and there, et cetera. I have at least managed to get the book manuscript out to a bunch of places, and I need to keep that up. I need to spend more time reading, for sure. And working on poems for the new manuscript, though that's probably the one writing-related thing that hasn't been given short shrift lately. (Could stand to put some effort into revising the darn things, though.) And finally it's been a few weeks since I've picked up a guitar, and that has GOT to change: life is so much happier with more music in it.
So, yeah, I've got to clear some space, both physically and mentally. I promise I won't drop off the face of the Internet, but I may need to try to spend less time here. We'll see.
Anyway, in case I don't manage to blog again before my holiday travels, I hope you all have wonderful holidays -- that you are warm, and safe, and loved. And most importantly, I hope you only get caught under the mistletoe by someone you want to get mistletoeded by. :)
Saturday, December 13, 2008
'Tis the season
Dear friends,
Ho ho ho! I'm Santa Bear, and I'm today's guest blogger here at Land Mammal HQ. Yes, I am every bit as fluffy and jolly and all-powerful as I appear to be. So tell me what you want for Christmas. Go on, tell me! Even if you don't celebrate the holiday... that doesn't mean I might not be able to work a little seasonal miracle for you.
Disclaimer: I have absolutely no sway over editors and publishers, and no, I can't get everybody's book published in 2009. And if I could, my own human would have dibs on that particular gift. But I might be able to come up with something else you'd like.
I won't ask you to sit on my knees... but tell me what you want and I'll see what I can do.
Ho ho ho!
Love,
Santa Bear
Sunday, December 07, 2008
panning for gold
Today's Poetry Daily poem, like much of Goldbarth's work, strikes me as being just a bit overly verbose -- but I'm glad I read it for this one image: "the volts that bump in the heart / like small trapped minnows of longing" -- an image that's saved from being just a bit too much by its placement directly after the utterly mundane "groceries leaking / out of the paper bag."
I'm a sucker for bits of science and medicine in poems, like volts in the heart; that's something Goldbarth seems to like as well. I know I said he's often overly verbose, but I'm often willing to sift through his poems because I find these little gems that thrill me.
I'm a sucker for bits of science and medicine in poems, like volts in the heart; that's something Goldbarth seems to like as well. I know I said he's often overly verbose, but I'm often willing to sift through his poems because I find these little gems that thrill me.
Drafty on an icy day
When I got up this morning it was six degrees outside. Six! At least it was above zero. I had to go next door to feed the neighbor's parakeet, and when I stepped outside for just a moment the just-risen sun was brilliant on snowy lawns, rabbit tracks laced the driveway like some kind of manic notation, and starlings were proclaiming whatever it is they proclaim in their arpeggiated chatter. For just a moment the sky opened up to blue, blue, blue. For just a moment I understood how winter can be beautiful. Then I came to my senses and hustled my frozen fingers and toes indoors.
It's up to 22 degrees now. Heat wave!
* * * * *
Finished reading the new book of prose poems by Carol Guess, Tinderbox Lawn. Great, great stuff. So many lines I'd love to quote at all y'all. What I really love about it right now, though, is what she does with narrative. The book definitely has a narrative (I don't want to use that overused word arc), but it's fractured and laced with gaps -- it's like a cracked window, only all we can see is the actual cracks and from that we're left to understand the shape and heft of the window itself. The courage it takes to tell a story but leave so much for the reader to gather -- that's inspiring me to leave a lot more gaps in my own current project, to tell a little less of the story, let it be a little more lyric & a little less narrative. Which is good, I think.
Anyway, it is a terrific book, sexy and wise and unexpected. Highly recommended.
* * * * *
A quick little draft, which will disappear about when the half-inch of snow remaining on my lawn disappears (that would be tomorrow sometime):
[poof!]
It's up to 22 degrees now. Heat wave!
* * * * *
Finished reading the new book of prose poems by Carol Guess, Tinderbox Lawn. Great, great stuff. So many lines I'd love to quote at all y'all. What I really love about it right now, though, is what she does with narrative. The book definitely has a narrative (I don't want to use that overused word arc), but it's fractured and laced with gaps -- it's like a cracked window, only all we can see is the actual cracks and from that we're left to understand the shape and heft of the window itself. The courage it takes to tell a story but leave so much for the reader to gather -- that's inspiring me to leave a lot more gaps in my own current project, to tell a little less of the story, let it be a little more lyric & a little less narrative. Which is good, I think.
Anyway, it is a terrific book, sexy and wise and unexpected. Highly recommended.
* * * * *
A quick little draft, which will disappear about when the half-inch of snow remaining on my lawn disappears (that would be tomorrow sometime):
[poof!]
Thursday, December 04, 2008
How is it December already?
Sorry for the blog-absence. No, I didn't fall and break my neck trying to walk in my new boots. ;)
* * * * *
I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving! I celebrated by packing the cats into the car and taking them up to Grandma's... er, my mom's. They were Decidedly Displeased about the 200-mile car ride, but they enjoyed the visit and got along very nicely with Mom's cats. Which is good to know, because the only way I'll ever be able to take on more than about a ten-day retreat or residency would be to "board" them at Mom's, I think... though I'm not sure such a thing is in the cards anytime soon.
* * * * *
Speaking of cards, big congratulations to this year's crop of NEA Fellows in Poetry -- especially fellow bloggers C. Dale and Corn Shake! Three cheers!
* * * * *
I really, really need to get back in the proverbial saddle with the sending-out of poems. It's a funny thing, but if you don't send stuff out, you don't get stuff published... go figure. I've got the book ms. out to a bunch of publishers & contests (and just got a rejection letter today with a very nice note scribbled on it -- just a few words like "sorry, it's a very strong ms." can really make a poet's day, especially in these early stages of sending the thing out!) but I haven't been at all productive about sending out individual poems this year. If I make any New Year's resolutions (oh dear, is it really almost time to think about that?!), that should be number one, I think.
* * * * *
Wishing you all warmth & light in this cold dark month (at least 'round these parts it is cold & dark). And good health. And houses that somehow miraculously clean themselves. Hey, as long as I'm wishing, right?
* * * * *
I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving! I celebrated by packing the cats into the car and taking them up to Grandma's... er, my mom's. They were Decidedly Displeased about the 200-mile car ride, but they enjoyed the visit and got along very nicely with Mom's cats. Which is good to know, because the only way I'll ever be able to take on more than about a ten-day retreat or residency would be to "board" them at Mom's, I think... though I'm not sure such a thing is in the cards anytime soon.
* * * * *
Speaking of cards, big congratulations to this year's crop of NEA Fellows in Poetry -- especially fellow bloggers C. Dale and Corn Shake! Three cheers!
* * * * *
I really, really need to get back in the proverbial saddle with the sending-out of poems. It's a funny thing, but if you don't send stuff out, you don't get stuff published... go figure. I've got the book ms. out to a bunch of publishers & contests (and just got a rejection letter today with a very nice note scribbled on it -- just a few words like "sorry, it's a very strong ms." can really make a poet's day, especially in these early stages of sending the thing out!) but I haven't been at all productive about sending out individual poems this year. If I make any New Year's resolutions (oh dear, is it really almost time to think about that?!), that should be number one, I think.
* * * * *
Wishing you all warmth & light in this cold dark month (at least 'round these parts it is cold & dark). And good health. And houses that somehow miraculously clean themselves. Hey, as long as I'm wishing, right?
Monday, November 24, 2008
Kick
I bought boots! I love 'em... these are the boots I've been wanting for years. (A splurge, but I had a gift card left from my birthday months ago that needed to be used, so... )
I did nearly break my neck trying to walk in them at first. I'm just not used to two-inch heels. It's true, I'm not particularly girly. My usual idea of "high heels" would be my Dansko clogs. Yeah.
Perhaps I bought them in an attempt to climb inside the main persona of the series of poems I've been working on.
* * * * *
If you want to buy something too, try one of these:
Karen J. Weyant's chapbook, Stealing Dust, is now available for pre-order at Finishing Line Press. One thing that has surprised me about the blogging world is the fact that when I enjoy someone's blog, 9 times out of 10 I end up enjoying their poetry too. (The reverse is not necessarily always true... some very good poets are just lazy bloggers. Ahem.) I ordered mine tonight.
And Tim Green's full-length collection, American Fractal, is also available for pre-order via Amazon (or directly from Red Hen Press if you were lucky enough to get a flyer in the mail, but it doesn't seem to be up on Red Hen's website yet). This one's on my "buy at AWP" list. I think it will be a good one.
* * * * *
Mary B. posted a pop quiz on her blog so I figured I'd post my answers here, since I can't think of much to post here lately without being prodded.
1. When was the last time you wrote a poem?
Yesterday evening, sitting in my seat at the Buskirk-Chumley Theater (which is an old renovated movie theater and one of my very favorite places to see live music), in between the opening act and Kimya Dawson's concert.
2. What was its title?
Actually I wrote two. The one that has a title is "House Lights Down." The other one has a provisional title that I don't like.
3. What was one image from the poem (if applicable)?
The mingled voices of the audience as net, ready to catch the falling musician/performer (implicit image: musician/performer as trapeze artist).
4. Do you currently have a poem percolating in your brain?
Bunches of them, which is very unusual for me. I've actually started keeping a list of poems I want to write -- jotting down the primary image or plot point (since these are mostly a part of my narrative-ish series) that I want to convey. When I want to write, I can just sit down, get out my list, pick one, and get to work. No, the writing process has never worked like this for me before. It's quite startling.
5. If you answered "yes" to number four, what is one image from that poem?
Musician at soundcheck, singing into the empty, empty, echoing hall, putting everything they have into the vocal even though there ain't nobody paying attention because they're all bustling around getting stuff set up.
Should probably write a poem about cool boots, too. :)
* * * * *
Still taking answers to my "what do you say when someone asks you what kind of poems you write" question from the other day. Surely there are more fabulous answers out there.
Friday, November 21, 2008
I know you've heard this one.
When people ask you "so, what kind of poetry do you write?"
... how do you answer them?
Not other poets, mind. When someone who's a serious poet asks me something like that (though they usually phrase it in a more helpful manner), usually we have enough of a shared vocabulary that I can talk about the central concerns & projects of my work and have a somewhat interesting conversation.
But when someone who's either a casual/occasional writer of poems, or who doesn't write poems at all, asks ... what do you say?
I'm really curious. Thanks!
... how do you answer them?
Not other poets, mind. When someone who's a serious poet asks me something like that (though they usually phrase it in a more helpful manner), usually we have enough of a shared vocabulary that I can talk about the central concerns & projects of my work and have a somewhat interesting conversation.
But when someone who's either a casual/occasional writer of poems, or who doesn't write poems at all, asks ... what do you say?
I'm really curious. Thanks!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Bits and linkies
Congratulations to Mark Doty on winning the National Book Award in poetry!
* * * * *
Went to a really terrific concert by John Prine this past weekend. Holy cow, can that guy write a song. Backed by one guitarist and one bassist -- and for the last part of the show, also joined by opening act Pat McLaughlin -- he gave us a solid two-hour set of songs that are timeless classics ("Angel From Montgomery," "Hello In There," and so many more) and other songs that are pretty close to that level. Most of his songs are deceptively simple, and I found myself envious of the palette of tools that songwriters have at their disposal. So many things that words alone just can't do.
* * * * *
"... what always enters the poems, and makes them happen, is the world, and the things in it. And the real, breathing beings in it. " Here's a nice interview with poet Ross Gay, who's been on the MFA faculty at the university here for a year or two.
* * * * *
Speaking of local stuff, WFIU has revamped the website for their poetry show, The Poets Weave. They've made it a lot easier to find the podcasts, and added tags. If you want to find all four of my archived shows, for example, you can just click on my name in their tag cloud. (You can leave comments, too!) Technology is fun, when it isn't driving you up the wall.
* * * * *
Went to a really terrific concert by John Prine this past weekend. Holy cow, can that guy write a song. Backed by one guitarist and one bassist -- and for the last part of the show, also joined by opening act Pat McLaughlin -- he gave us a solid two-hour set of songs that are timeless classics ("Angel From Montgomery," "Hello In There," and so many more) and other songs that are pretty close to that level. Most of his songs are deceptively simple, and I found myself envious of the palette of tools that songwriters have at their disposal. So many things that words alone just can't do.
* * * * *
"... what always enters the poems, and makes them happen, is the world, and the things in it. And the real, breathing beings in it. " Here's a nice interview with poet Ross Gay, who's been on the MFA faculty at the university here for a year or two.
* * * * *
Speaking of local stuff, WFIU has revamped the website for their poetry show, The Poets Weave. They've made it a lot easier to find the podcasts, and added tags. If you want to find all four of my archived shows, for example, you can just click on my name in their tag cloud. (You can leave comments, too!) Technology is fun, when it isn't driving you up the wall.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Be My Elvis, Baby
There seems to be another character sneaking into the series I'm working on -- someone who's been a fan of the band for ages, and who in later years comes to a new appreciation of, not just the music, but of the musicians as human beings. How she moves, over the couple of decades the series spans, from idolizing the rock gods of her dreams to seeing them as human beings & still loving them, loving what they do. How she listens to songs she first heard when she was fifteen, and how they mean something different and deeper now.
Which, of course, basically gives me a voice in the project. I'm not sure, in the end, if that's a good thing or a bad thing -- but we'll see what happens.
More and more, this is feeling like a book-length project. Scary!
I'm doing some research for it, too. Trying to imagine what it's like to be a struggling (and then not so struggling) rock musician. Trying to imagine what the relationships between band members are like, how the shared experience of playing & performing & traveling together, the success & the failure, changes the interpersonal dynamic. Also just plain trying to stay in touch with what it is I have always loved about rock & roll, because in some ways I see this project as my little love letter to rock & roll itself. So I'm listening to lots of music. Ah, the sacrifices we make for poetry. *grin*
I don't want this project to ignore the crassness & corruption of the music industry, but that's not at all a primary focus; of course the tension between art & commerce is something that inevitably comes into play with popular music maybe more than with any other art, but I'm more interested in the human stories, and in the great thunderous machine that is a rock band in full voice. The grand gesture of the stage, and the little human failings underneath the surface of that performance, and what happens when a huge room full of people comes together singing the same song. How a rock concert with its cheering and its standing and its fist-pumping and its singing along is an audience/performer experience entirely unlike the passive consumption of sitting quietly & applauding politely when the song is over, and what it's like when the song is one you've listened to over & over alone in your room & now you're sharing it with hundreds or even thousands of other people & the privately meaningful suddenly becomes a shared, communal experience.
And yes, the project is also about being such a hopeless romantic that you believe this stuff matters. It's circus and flash and entertainment, smoke & mirrors, but the human heart at the heart of it is something full of truth. And yes, I did indeed flunk PoMo 101.
Anyway.
So here's our longtime fan. This is pretty late in the game, and our protagonist (the rock star) has gone through some difficult stuff in a fairly public way. And what is it about the fan/performer relationship that feels so strangely personal that sometimes you feel like you know them, know something of what they're going through? Because I know your words and your music with every cell in my body, know your song so well that it is my song, do I know you? Well, no, of course not, but... also yes.
[gone]
Which, of course, basically gives me a voice in the project. I'm not sure, in the end, if that's a good thing or a bad thing -- but we'll see what happens.
More and more, this is feeling like a book-length project. Scary!
I'm doing some research for it, too. Trying to imagine what it's like to be a struggling (and then not so struggling) rock musician. Trying to imagine what the relationships between band members are like, how the shared experience of playing & performing & traveling together, the success & the failure, changes the interpersonal dynamic. Also just plain trying to stay in touch with what it is I have always loved about rock & roll, because in some ways I see this project as my little love letter to rock & roll itself. So I'm listening to lots of music. Ah, the sacrifices we make for poetry. *grin*
I don't want this project to ignore the crassness & corruption of the music industry, but that's not at all a primary focus; of course the tension between art & commerce is something that inevitably comes into play with popular music maybe more than with any other art, but I'm more interested in the human stories, and in the great thunderous machine that is a rock band in full voice. The grand gesture of the stage, and the little human failings underneath the surface of that performance, and what happens when a huge room full of people comes together singing the same song. How a rock concert with its cheering and its standing and its fist-pumping and its singing along is an audience/performer experience entirely unlike the passive consumption of sitting quietly & applauding politely when the song is over, and what it's like when the song is one you've listened to over & over alone in your room & now you're sharing it with hundreds or even thousands of other people & the privately meaningful suddenly becomes a shared, communal experience.
And yes, the project is also about being such a hopeless romantic that you believe this stuff matters. It's circus and flash and entertainment, smoke & mirrors, but the human heart at the heart of it is something full of truth. And yes, I did indeed flunk PoMo 101.
Anyway.
So here's our longtime fan. This is pretty late in the game, and our protagonist (the rock star) has gone through some difficult stuff in a fairly public way. And what is it about the fan/performer relationship that feels so strangely personal that sometimes you feel like you know them, know something of what they're going through? Because I know your words and your music with every cell in my body, know your song so well that it is my song, do I know you? Well, no, of course not, but... also yes.
[gone]
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Catching up a bit
Saturday evening's reading with Dory Lynch & Shana Ritter went really well. We had a great audience, and despite technical issues (we gave up on the PA and just read unamplified -- Poetry Unplugged!) I enjoyed it about as much as I can remember enjoying any reading. I had great fun reading both older, familiar material & the brand-new stuff I'm so excited about right now.
The podcast of my most recent radio reading is now available, here. (I'll make sure the link is over in the right-hand column of my blog, too.) There are two version of it; I haven't listened all the way through, but I'm pretty sure it is just that one has the public-radio pledge-week "please give us money" at the beginning and the other one doesn't.
Breach is now available via amazon.com, here. However, unless you feel an obligation to support amazon.com, or have a gift certificate to burn, you can certainly buy it directly from Finishing Line Press and support small-press publishing. Better still, if you're willing to mail out a check instead of using a credit card online, you can buy it directly from me (and I'll happily sign it if you'd like); I'll sell you one for $12 plus $1.50 postage (& trade/barter is definitely an option, so make me an offer). Email me, ahaines at gmail dot com, if you're interested.
Phew. Shameless self-promotion is kind of uncomfortable.
* * * * *
I get to see John Prine on Saturday night! Should be excellent.
The podcast of my most recent radio reading is now available, here. (I'll make sure the link is over in the right-hand column of my blog, too.) There are two version of it; I haven't listened all the way through, but I'm pretty sure it is just that one has the public-radio pledge-week "please give us money" at the beginning and the other one doesn't.
Breach is now available via amazon.com, here. However, unless you feel an obligation to support amazon.com, or have a gift certificate to burn, you can certainly buy it directly from Finishing Line Press and support small-press publishing. Better still, if you're willing to mail out a check instead of using a credit card online, you can buy it directly from me (and I'll happily sign it if you'd like); I'll sell you one for $12 plus $1.50 postage (& trade/barter is definitely an option, so make me an offer). Email me, ahaines at gmail dot com, if you're interested.
Phew. Shameless self-promotion is kind of uncomfortable.
* * * * *
I get to see John Prine on Saturday night! Should be excellent.
Saturday, November 08, 2008
Readings!
Tomorrow (Sunday, 11/9) I am the featured guest on "The Poets Weave" on WFIU, our local NPR station. The five-minute show is scheduled to air at 11:46 AM EST, and you can listen online at wfiu.org. A caveat: it is pledge week, and so a lot of their shows are running a little behind schedule this week. The poetry show should appear sometime between 11:45 and noon though. And if you miss it, never fear -- the podcast will be available within a day or two.
Tonight, I get to read with Dory Lynch and Shana Ritter at Rachael's Cafe. I just finished deciding what I'm going to read. We're each doing two short sets, so that we can have an intermission and people can get food or cappuccino or whatever. My first set will be entirely from Breach, and my second set will be from "Chasing Angels," the new collection I am working on. I'm having a lot of fun with those poems right now. I've never consciously had a "project" in the sense of writing poems specifically towards a series or group, and it's a very different feeling! I'm also finding I need to learn a lot of fiction-y techniques and concepts, like different points of view, narrative strategies, etc. It's interesting work. I'm looking forward to seeing how these poems go over with an audience. And I'm very much looking forward to hearing Dory and Shana read; they're both terrific poets whose work I always enjoy.
Tonight, I get to read with Dory Lynch and Shana Ritter at Rachael's Cafe. I just finished deciding what I'm going to read. We're each doing two short sets, so that we can have an intermission and people can get food or cappuccino or whatever. My first set will be entirely from Breach, and my second set will be from "Chasing Angels," the new collection I am working on. I'm having a lot of fun with those poems right now. I've never consciously had a "project" in the sense of writing poems specifically towards a series or group, and it's a very different feeling! I'm also finding I need to learn a lot of fiction-y techniques and concepts, like different points of view, narrative strategies, etc. It's interesting work. I'm looking forward to seeing how these poems go over with an audience. And I'm very much looking forward to hearing Dory and Shana read; they're both terrific poets whose work I always enjoy.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
And now the real work begins.
I stayed awake last night to hear the victory speech (which was terrific, I thought, and struck just the right note between celebration and the soberness of realizing how much hard work he -- and we -- have yet to do), and long enough to hear one network finally call Indiana for Obama. (He won by about 1% here, or maybe a little less -- which is really quite phenomenal, given how strongly Republican Indiana usually is.)Fell asleep with the TV on, and when I woke up I held my breath for a moment until I heard someone say "President-Elect Obama." It wasn't a dream. And there were no dirty-trick surprises overnight.
I don't think I can really say anything about this election that hasn't already been said. President-Elect Obama is almost exactly my age -- he's a couple months younger -- and although his life & mine have been very different, we share many of the same cultural referents. We were in kindergarten when Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. (My parents let me stay home to watch the funeral on TV; I didn't really understand what had happened, but I knew that people were sad and angry and that a great man had died in a bad way.) We were kids and young teenagers during Vietnam and the heyday of the civil rights movement. When we were finally old enough to vote, Ronald Reagan got elected President. (I didn't vote for him, and I'm guessing young Obama didn't either.) And when we were forty-seven years old, we got to elect a visionary, compassionate, intelligent, courageous -- and yes, African-American -- man as our next President.
Did I imagine that this could happen in my lifetime? Yep. And I still believe it is very possible that I will see a woman President elected in my lifetime, too. And did I leap off the couch shrieking and crying hysterical tears of joy last night at 11 pm when the networks declared the Obama victory? Yep. If you'd asked me "can the U.S. get over itself enough to elect a black man as President," I would've said yes. But when it really happened, when that particular dream became reality, the sheer force of my joy and exhilaration took me completely by surprise.
My excitement is tempered somewhat by the passage of Prop 8 in California and several other anti-gay and anti-choice ballot measures in other states. It is ridiculous that we still live in a country where an entire group of people can be refused the same civil rights that other people have, just on the basis of who they happen to be. But I believe -- I truly do believe -- that if we can elect Barack Obama, we can make the world a better place in other ways. We CAN change the world for the better, if we work hard enough and if we believe. If yesterday's victory taught me anything, it is that hope and belief are powerful things. And so, it's time to get to work.
* * * * *
Capping off an unforgettable 24 hours, today I went to a fantastic reading by Billy Collins & Kay Ryan. I'd heard recordings of Collins reading before, but hadn't seen him in person; and I hadn't even heard recordings of Ryan. They were both terrific, and played off one another really well. I don't know if they have read together often, but if you ever get a chance to see them together, you should go. They are both funny, charming, personable readers. I was a little worried for Kay Ryan since she went second, and I was afraid that following someone as hugely popular as Billy Collins would be tough -- but I needn't have been concerned, as she more than held her own and won over the sizable audience. Good stuff.
Monday, November 03, 2008
One last word on this election.
I'll let Mr. Bruce Springsteen have the last word on this blog regarding tomorrow's election. This is Springsteen's speech from yesterday's rally in Cleveland. After this he sang "The Rising" and then introduced the Obama family. Following the text of the speech will be video of the same speech (which unfortunately cuts off before "The Rising" begins).
Please, if you haven't voted, do so tomorrow. Barack Obama is not perfect. He can't single-handedly save the country or anything like that. But putting him in office will go a long way towards making the world a safer, more compassionate, saner place to live.
And now, Bruce Springsteen:
I've spent 35 years writing about America and its people--what does it mean to be an American, what's our duties and our responsibilities, what are our reasonable expectations when we live in a free society. I really never saw myself as partisan but more as an advocate for a set of ideas: economic and social justice, America as a positive influence around the world, truth, transparency, and integrity in government, the right of every American to have a job, a living wage, to be educated in a decent school, and to a life filled with the dignity of work, promise and the sanctity of home. These are the things that make a life. These are the things that build and define a society. I think that these are the things we think of on the deepest level when we think about our freedoms. But today those freedoms have been damaged and curtailed by 8 years of a thoughtless, reckless, and morally adrift administration. But we're at the crossroads today.
Come on up for the rising...
Please, if you haven't voted, do so tomorrow. Barack Obama is not perfect. He can't single-handedly save the country or anything like that. But putting him in office will go a long way towards making the world a safer, more compassionate, saner place to live.
And now, Bruce Springsteen:
I've spent 35 years writing about America and its people--what does it mean to be an American, what's our duties and our responsibilities, what are our reasonable expectations when we live in a free society. I really never saw myself as partisan but more as an advocate for a set of ideas: economic and social justice, America as a positive influence around the world, truth, transparency, and integrity in government, the right of every American to have a job, a living wage, to be educated in a decent school, and to a life filled with the dignity of work, promise and the sanctity of home. These are the things that make a life. These are the things that build and define a society. I think that these are the things we think of on the deepest level when we think about our freedoms. But today those freedoms have been damaged and curtailed by 8 years of a thoughtless, reckless, and morally adrift administration. But we're at the crossroads today.
I've spent most of my life as a musician measuring the distance in my music between the American Dream and the American reality. I look around today and for many Americans who are losing their jobs or their homes or seeing their retirement funds disappear or their health care, or have been abandoned in their inner cities, the distance between that dream and that reality has grown greater and more painful than ever.
I believe that Senator Obama has taken the measure of that distance in his own life and in his own work. And I believe that he understands in his heart the cost of that distance in blood and in suffering in the lives of everyday Americans. And I believe as President he'll work to bring that promise back to life and into the lives of so many of our fellow Americans who have justifiably lost faith in its meaning.
Now, in my job I travel around the world and I occasionally play to big stadiums or crowds like this, just like Senator Obama does. And I continue to find out that wherever I go, America remains a repository for people's hopes, their desires; it remains a house of dreams. And a thousand George Bushes and a thousand Dick Cheneys will never be able to tear that house down. That's something that only we can do, and we're not going to let that happen.
This administration will be leaving office--that's the good news. The bad news is they're going to be dumping in our laps the national tragedies of Katrina, Iraq, and our financial crisis. Our house of dreams has been abused, it's been looted, and it's been left in a terrible state of disrepair. It needs defending against those who would sell it down the river for power, for influence, or a quick buck. It needs strong arms, strong hearts, strong minds. We need someone with Senator Obama's understanding, his temperateness, his deliberativeness, his maturity, his pragmatism, his toughness, and his faith.
But most of all it needs us. It needs you and it needs me, and he's gonna need us. 'Cause all that a nation has that keeps it from coming apart is the social contract between us, between its citizens. And whatever grace God has decided to impart to us, it resides in us, it resides in our connection with one another. In honoring the life and the hopes and the dreams of the man or the woman up the street or across town--that's where we make our small claim upon heaven.
Now in recent years, that social contract's been shredded. Look around today and you can see it shredding before our eyes. But tonight and today we are at the crossroads. We are at the crossroads, and it's been a long long long time coming.
I'm honored to be here on the same stage as Senator Obama. From the beginning, there's been something in Senator Obama that's called upon our better angels, and I suspect it's because he's had a life where he's had to so often call upon his better angels. And we're going to need all the angels we can get on the hard road ahead. So Senator Obama, help us rebuild our house, big enough for the dreams from all our citizens. 'Cause how well we accomplish this task will tell us just what it does mean to be an American in the new century, what the stakes are, and what it means to live in a free society.
So I don't know about you, but I know I want my country back, I want my dream back, I want my America back. Now is the time to stand with Barack Obama, and Joe Biden, roll up our sleeves, and come on up for the rising.
Come on up for the rising...
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