Happy Thanksgiving--Eat Lots of Pie!

Because I Wanted to Post Something

It's been fun seeing other people's responses to Mary Biddinger's pop quiz. So, here's mine.

1. When was the last time you wrote a poem?
About three weeks ago.

2. What was its title?
Ontology: Britney Spears

3. What was one image from the poem (if applicable)?
Sequined panties.

4. Do you currently have a poem percolating in your brain?
Yes. It's in process. It's different.

5. If you answered "yes" to number four, what is one image from that poem?
A cheese and lettuce sandwich on white bread with mayo.

Sub-Atomic Dog

I'd talked earlier in the year about getting a house-dog. I eventually decided that it'd need to be put on hold indefinitely, what with going to LA for the Lambda Retreat and the if/when of the low-res program. But, a former co-worker called to see if I'd like to take her dog, a three-year-old Pom-Peke mix (soooo butch...but I did want a small dog) because her husband's allergies was making keeping Evie difficult. So I met her, I fell in love, and now I'm a new doggie daddy again.

Surety

Yesterday was my cousin's memorial service. My mom had to work, so I had to go solo to represent our side of the family. It wasn't as rough emotionally as I thought it would be. But it helped me clarify a few things.

*When I die there are two things I do not want: a bagpipe version of "Amazing Grace" and any version of "His Eye is on the Sparrow." I will accept a bagpipe version of "John, I'm Only Dancing" or "Ashes to Ashes."

*I have fantastic friends and I am luckier than I deserve.

*If you're not on my side, I have no use for you.

How...Festive

If you want something new for your holiday decor--try this.

They have craft options for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Hannukah!

Your period comes every month, but Xmas comes only once a year. So bring
that menstrual joy to this holiday season with these tampon tree decorations.
From a string of tampon lights to a star at the top of the tree, feminine
hygiene has never been so festive!

Well, Damn

Grace Hartigan has died.

A few fantastic quotes from the obit:

“I didn’t choose painting,” she later told an interviewer. “It chose me. I didn’t have any talent. I just had genius.”

“Pop Art is not painting because painting must have content and emotion,” she said in the 1960’s. On the other hand, she reflected at the time of the Whitney show, “I’d much rather be a pioneer of a movement that I hate than the second generation of a movement that I love.”

“Or perhaps the subject of my art is like the definition of humor — emotional pain remembered in tranquillity.”

“Now as before it is the vulgar and the vital and the possibility of its transformation into the beautiful which continues to challenge and fascinate me.”

Whoa, Nelly

Yesterday I went up to Pittsburgh with Aaron, Tommy, and Irene. Irene and I were taping episodes of Prosody with Jan Beatty for WYEP in Pittsburgh. It was fun and I didn't drop any of the 7 dirty words...and actually I think a couple of the edits I made on poems are improvements and not momentary dodges.

After that was the bookshopping. We hit four bookstores before we headed back to West-by-God. I don't want to think about how much I've spent on books in the last ten days. Tuesday, Irene and I are going back up to Pittsburgh with Aaron for a reading he's doing--we're planning on hitting two more bookstores that were closed last night. Voracious.

Thank God

I stayed up until 2 am watching returns. I'm groggy but I'm happy. I kept getting weepy last night and am still tearing up randomly this morning. I am proud this morning, you betcha and also.

Anecdotal

I have a love-hate relationship with Andrew Sullivan--I find him equally necessary and infuriating. But today, I'm grateful he's around on the net. He's posting emails from his blog readers describing their voting experiences. I can't really keep up with the news today and really it'd probably just make me crazy if it did...but these little reports from folks out voting today are just what I need. You can find them here.

My Mama for Obama

My mom just called--she voted. Not much of a crowd at our polling place when she went, though the poll workers said there was a crowd waiting before the polls opened. For the first time in her life she voted for a Democratic candidate for president.

Last night I found out one of my favorite cousins had died. He was about six months younger than I and I always thought of him as a counterpoint. He'd had a lot of problems: addiction issues, rehab stints, jail time, accidents and incidents. He was an unapologetic roughneck but was always very sweet and tender when he dealt with me and my mother. I'm just processing it all right now.

I Need a Program

There needs to be a 12-step program for those addicted to tracking polls.

I don't know what I'll do with myself come Nov. 5.

For Aaron

I go above and beyond the call of duty,

NOOOOOOO

David Tennant quits as Doctor Who

Pardon the geeky angst...but dammit.

SNOW? NOW?

Panic! At the Bibliotheque

I got my first real assignment for Warren Wilson and my book's ordered. This is all becoming shudderingly real.

~*~

I've been trying to write and backlog some poems for the upcoming semester just to stay ahead of things in case I get bogged down. (Right now Ricardo Montalban is an Indian Brave on Bonanza. He is suitably righteous and angry...very Khan-like.) Back in the day I had no problem writing on demand, I synched into it and produced with little procrastination (though some courses were tended to far more gladly). It'll be curious to see how this low-residency system works in terms of process for me.

~*~

Aaron said this to tease me, but he's got a serious point, and I know he's righter than right, so I have it taped up in view as I work at the home computer: "Some people finish poems, RJ."

So Bad, But So Good

We celebrated Ashley's birthday Saturday. Because she loves pumpkiny stuff, I made her a Pumpkin Cheesecake with Marshmallow-Sour Cream Topping and Gingersnap Crust from a recipe at Epicurious. It was faaaantastic.

I'm not a big cheesecake fan and had never tried to make one before, but this recipe seems almost fool-proof.

The only quibbles I have: if you follow the recipe exactly use a larger springform pan (the recipe calls for a 9", but makes enough filling for at least a 10"); because I followed the recipe and had an enormous amount of filling in the 9" pan, it increased the cooking time by about 45 minutes; if you decide to make this without the topping (and really why would you? sour cream? and marshmallow? come on!) cut the spices unless you really really loooove spicy pumpkin.

Punky

I was supposed to be up at quarter of 6 this morning so I could do my thing and be at work at 7. Nothing major, just a usual Sunday. Until I went into the kitchen to get my coffee and realized it was actually 7 already. The clock had reset itself prematurely for next week's time change. I called work, then rushed around getting ready. I ended up being about 30 minutes late. So far it's been a normal Sunday, a few straggling check outs, nothing major. About five minutes ago I look down and realize I'm wearing mismatched shoes.

And It's Time, Time, Time

I kept meaning to hop on and blog a bit here and there for the last month but then I'd just find something else to do...it's not been particularly frantic or anything--I've just not felt like being online much. I've been trying to read a lot (more essays about poetry than poetry itself) and get myself geared up for classes by setting up what'll be my work blocks.

Things of note since late September:

My mom now yells at the television whenever she sees John McCain. She either calls him "nitwit" or "that old asshole." The latter is particularly impressive--it has been reserved solely for my father for the last 15 years. She admits that she understands how I felt during 2004 and the last several years.

I was training a new person last week. She said there was no need to worry about her taking too many breaks or her room service beer count being off since she didn't smoke or drink. I said "Well, that's good, but you have to have some sort of vice." "Oh, I do. Jesus Christ."