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."

Interview Sarah Palin

Through the magic of the interwebs, you too can interview Caribou Barbie!

Debatable

The debate last night was just dreary...but I think that's because I watched MSNBC and they kept a pretty consistent split-screen, so my eyes were constantly tracking left to watch John McCain's petulance when he wasn't talking.

Highlights: my mother repeatedly shouting some version of "you old asshole" at the telly. She also perked up when Lehrer asked about Russia, then started going off about Putin rearing into Alaskan air space. She is truly angry at her party.

I might have to get her a helmet for the veep debate. She could do herself a caution.

God.

From The Smoking Gun:

Cop Hit In Gas Attack
West Virginia DUI arrestee charged with farting in officer's face

Zut Alors!

The book-keeper and general problem-solver/go-to person is out today with a migraine. I'm myself and her today. I do not like this. Not a whit.

~*~

I'm awfully impressed with Warren Wilson's speed in getting out information, forms and such; especially in regards to answering emails. They're really on the ball. It makes for a lot of reading (and re-reading) and digesting, but I can't say I've ever had such an experience with any other program or school.

~*~

I've been shopping around for a new car; I've hated it because I'm trying to be practical and thrifty at the same time and that just complicates things.

I've always thought about fuel-efficiency first and looked at just compact/subcompact models, but now trying to find something in my price range, that's not going to jack my insurance rates to the sky, that's got good crash test ratings and AWD AND something at least moderately fuel efficient...well...yes...I've been a little obsessive...and I wonder if Brian regrets having that Consumer Reports as much as I've asked him to look up models over the last few months.

As much as I've loved my little Focus, I need to get something with AWD: I ain't tryin the mountains in January with just front-wheel-drive...that's for suckers.

~*~

Poems out in the mail last week, trying to finish up one more packet this weekend.

Transitional

Usually I'm all ready for the season to shift, for summer to slide into fall and have those few weeks of crisp air and foliage that's almost too perfect. But this year...no. Something resists. I want a few more weeks of summer please. I want to ride out the last few weeks of the lantana and new guinea impatiens being perfect.

~*~

Working on poems this morning, playing with a cento and a piece that I muddled through a Markov generator.

~*~

This friend of the family gave my mother a bushel of tiny white peaches--each one the size of a ping pong ball. They're fantastic: meaty and not too juicy. I'm being drafted to help make preserves later today.

Regular

This article by George Saunders in the New Yorker is just viiiiiicious. And coffee out my nose funny.

WOOT!

Ages ago I made this oblique comment on a post about taking a big step. Well--I took it. And it's official. I'll be a student in Warren Wilson's MFA program. I just got the call a little while ago.
Unreal.

Newness

A new poem. Shan't be here long.

And it wasn't.

Bleg

Could anyone send me a copy of Peter Gizzi's "Ode: Salute to the New York School."

It would be greeeeeeatly appreciated.

SUBMIT

qarrtsiluni is calling for submissions for its next issue: Journaling the Apocalypse. More deets here.

Blargh

Drizzly today and chilly-ish. The sort of day that's perfect for napping and reading and lounging with coffee. I at least have coffee. On the up-side, I get to use a pressure washer later today. My inner butch is singing.

~*~

I've been revising and rethinking old and newer poems like crazy since I got back from LA...well once the jet lag and exhaustion lifted. It's been a much different process...for the first time in years revising has been as pleasurable as writing the first draft of something. Plus I've started a few new drafts.

ZESTY!!!

Burglar wakes men with spice rub, sausage attack

The victims told deputies they awoke Saturday morning to the stranger applying
spices to one of them and striking the other with an 8-inch sausage.
Burrimond said money allegedly stolen in the burglary was recovered. The
sausage was tossed away by the fleeing suspect and eaten by a dog.

When my boss asked me if I'd heard this I thought she was lying. Sadly, no.

Wordle, yo

Deviance. Lots and lots of deviance. And texture.

Why I Love My Mother

Following last night's frightening GOP speeches and this morning's inane cable-news coverage, my mom weighs in Sarah Palin:

"So what, she's had five kids. She's a baby factory. How does that make her fit to be vice-president. I know lots of women who are baby factories--I wouldn't want them anywhere near the White House. And one has Down Syndrome? She chose to have it. Who cares?

"She put the Alaska Governor's plane up on E-Bay? Well whoopty shit."

I should take a moment to point out: my mother is almost 70, methodist, and has never voted for a democratic presidential candidate. Until this year.

I have yet to ask her how she feels about field dressing moose.

Labor Day Win

Abstinence Edumication works:

"We have been blessed with five wonderful children who we love with all our
heart and mean everything to us. Our beautiful daughter Bristol came to us with
news that as parents we knew would make her grow up faster than we had ever
planned. We're proud of Bristol's decision to have her baby and even prouder to
become grandparents. As Bristol faces the responsibilities of adulthood, she
knows she has our unconditional love and support."



"Bristol and the young man she will marry are going to realize very quickly
the difficulties of raising a child, which is why they will have the love and
support of our entire family. We ask the media to respect our daughter and
Levi's privacy as has always been the tradition of children of
candidates."

Amazon Fail

From my inbox:

We've noticed that customers who have purchased or rated books by D. A. Powell have also purchased Deviance and Social Control in Sport by Kevin Young. For this reason, you might like to know that Deviance and Social Control in Sport will be released on August 31, 2008.

Book Description

The world of sport offers a deep--and often-overlooked--source for the study of deviance and its development and impact on society. Deviance and Social Control in Sport challenges preconceived understandings regarding the relationship of deviance and sport and offers a conceptual framework for future work in a variety of sociological subfields.
Drawing on their cutting-edge research in criminology and deviance in the discipline of sociology, Atkinson and Young provide a textured understanding of sport-related deviance through the application of various approaches to deviance in a sport context. Using extended case studies, the authors examine the subject of deviance through examples that are popular (fan violence, hockey enforcers, effect of the media), understudied (sport-related violence against animals, athletes as on-field victims of violence), or emerging (sport security, drugs and weight control, cybernetic athletes, extreme sports). This engaging presentation allows readers to fully understand the effects of sport deviance in society.

We're Two Today

Today marks the second anniversary with Brian.

A late thanks for the b-day wishes. It's been looney.

Joyeux anniversaire à moi

Yup. I'm closer to 40 now than 30.

From the Hills

To Live and Fly to LA

Well--I made it. I need to nap. More later.

HELL JUST FROZE

Kultur Klatsch

Brian and I spent Wednesday roaming Pittsburgh. We went to the Carnegie Museum and checked out part of the 2008 Life On Mars exhibit and an exhibit in their Works on Paper section collecting abstract art until 1950. We didn't get to see all of the LOM show--it's huge. We're going to try and see more Saturday when we're back.

All of that is just prelude to show you one of the pieces that caught my fancy.

KNOCKOUT

KNOCKOUT LITERARY MAGAZINE POETRY CONTEST

Knockout, a print literary magazine that publishes a 50-50 mix of workby LGBTQ and straight authors, announces its first poetry contest.Judge: James Bertolino. Winner receives $100 gift certificate toPowell's Books (redeemable online) and publication of their winningpoem. All poems submitted considered for publication in Knockout.Submissions of up to three poems of any length must be received byAugust 31, 2008. $5 entry fee per submission. Multiple submissionsallowed. Simultaneous submissions allowed (with prompt notification ifaccepted elsewhere). For complete guidelines and for more informationabout Knockout, visit www.knockoutlit.org/contest.htm

Things and Things and Things

The gorgeous and vivacious Aaron Smith has been sighted! Actually he's been sighted a few times--he's settling in and is sharp and funny and makes me laugh like I'm twelve. Really it's duh-lic-ious having him so close at hand again.

~*~

It'll be less than a week until I get to see Brian. We managed to somehow synch up our schedules so I can see him before I leave for LA and the LLF Retreat. The fact that we're able to see one another twice this summer is more than I'd hoped for.

~*~

I'm working on poems like crazy, culling through stuff written earlier this year, trashing most of it. I'm fine with that. It was necessary. I had to write that stuff out to get onto this stuff. And really, I couldn't be more tickled with what's happening.

And It's Time, Time Time...

I realized last night that I have now acquired over 100 hours of overtime since the beginning of this year. I have worked an extra two-and-a-half weeks.

Portents

Over the last two weeks I've seen about 8 or 9 people in public sitting with their heads literally in their hands. The youngest was about 6; the oldest, at least 60. I've felt intrusive, prurient seeing them, but I can't help staring. I thought the "head in the hands" posture was something straight out of bad fiction. Were I a different sort of person, I'd try to find meaning in this. Instead I'm looking for a poem.

Purdy

This is one of the new daylilies I got this year, "Wild Horses". It's vexed me the last few days because it bloomed over the weekend and then stayed shut up tight.

Finally.

Bravo has finally put up info about this season's Project Runway people. It's about damned time, considering the new season starts tomorrow night.

Just by looking--my favorite so far is Suede. I had that hair. But I went with more of a Tiffany gift box blue. Suede looks like the leader of the Lollipop Guild gone bad.

Steps, Baby & Otherwise

Last night I had the best sleep I've had in weeks. So deep I dreamed. I think almost every one I know and love made a cameo appearance: Brian, of course, Eric and Tommy and Shlee, Irene, Aaron, my mom--there were others, but I didn't write it down when I woke. I don't remember much beyond glimpsed faces, everyone smiling, there was a lot of shining, well-polished honey stained wood.

~*~

I am determined to get organized. I've bought a bunch of cabinets and bookshelves. I'm shopping for a new desk/hutch combo. I'm tired of stacks. I want an orderly, grown-up kind of space right now.

~*~

All the gladiolus I set out last year are blooming. They're rich: salmons, coral, claret red. They always remind me of my grandfather. They were his favorite flowers.

~*~

I am about to take a very big step.

Abundance

The daylilies are outdoing themselves. Surprising because I didn't feed them as heavily this year, but they are full, the blooms on some are so heavy they're warping the stems.

I've had an enormous blue hosta in the corner of the shade bed for years--six or seven, at least--and this is the first summer it's bloomed. It's nothing that spectacular but I'm hoping to get some seed and start some new ones.

~*~

The last couple of weeks I've gotten together with a couple of other people and we've workshopped, ate dinner, had some drinks and just enjoyed one another's company. It's been lovely--and I've gotten some serious work done on revising and rethinking some of the poems I wrote earlier this year. It's also been good prep work for Los Angeles. It's been about nine or ten years since I was in a formal workshop and I've been a little worried about having lost the ability to talk about a poem in an intelligent helpful way. I still feel like I need to brush up on terminology but I feel more confident I can talk about a poem in an analytical way.

~*~

The neighbors had a cow escape last week. A bull actually. Summer is here.

Too Much Nature

Driving to work Friday I hit a crow with my car. I always wonder when I see them in the road picking at carrion if they'll fly away in time. They usually do. It was really kind of ghastly.

Last night driving home I almost hit a deer.

I am almost afraid to leave the house today.

Will F*ck 4 Fuel

One of the reasons I love Brian so madly is that he finds these little things and shares them with me.

From the Smoking Gun:

A Kentucky woman is facing prostitution charges for allegedly trading sex for gasoline. Angela Eversole, 34, was nabbed last weekend during a police stakeout at a Days Inn...Nowak admitted paying for Eversole's services, in part, with a $100 Speedway gas card. Eversole was hit with a prostitution rap and also charged with doing business without an occupational license.

For a slightly different take, go here.

Time Machine/Amphetamines

I need one or the other.

If I owe you an email: I'll write you by the weekend.

Keith: Rosser doesn't primarily write sonnets--but she does do some. She works in a number of forms. I'm only part way into Foiled Again so I've not made any strong determination yet. But her second book, Misery Prefigured is definitely worth reading. I'll look and see if I have any existing sonnets that aren't obscene that I can post.

Good God...

What the hell happened to the month of June?

I'm behind on gardening--well I'm behind on lots of things--I still have about a dozen things in their pots from the nursery waiting to be sunk in the ground. It's pathetic. I swear to god I'm planting them all tomorrow morning.

What's been planted is thriving. The shade/semi-shade bed close to the house is filling in nicely. The dogwood is sending out new leaves (that was touch and go during the heat wave. I was sure I'd lose it.) My favorite find of the year is some sort of Hyssop, "Acapulco"--little bunches of tiny trumpet shaped blooms, a sort of cantaloupe color that changes to pink as the flowers spend. Really lovely. The hummingbirds love it.

Finally got around to reading J. Allyn Rosser's Foiled Again. It makes me want to keep writing sonnets.

Plane tickets bought for LA. Now if I can just get that prescription for Xanax I've always wanted.

UGH.

Bits

Last Tuesday, Brian and I met my friend Bryan for dinner and drinks. Throughout the evening random men waved at me. I don't know if they thought I was someone else or what. The most startling was the first. We'd just left the Tap Room and a man was walking through a parking lot/alley area with his two little girls in sundresses. Apropos of nothing he just looked up and waved.

~*~

I'm finally sitting down to revise all the stuff I wrote at the beginning of the year. All at the same time that new poems are starting.

Briefs from Monday

The tribute reading Monday, overall, was a great time. We had a crowd of about 75-80 people, a good receptive audience. Irene didn't feel up to attending, so we had to shuffle the program and reading order over dinner--several of us picked up an additional poem or short piece that we thought should be read, deciding on each person taking about 7-8 minutes of time. That was a really fascinating moment for me--no egos flared up, no one seemed anxious to take more time or angled for one of her show-stopper pieces. We just tossed out poems we individually loved, worked out an order and went with it.

Eight of us read from Irene's work and spoke briefly about her. Eight very different readings and emphases on why she matters to us and why her work does and should as well. It was sort of a rush for me because I got to read alongside friends and people whose work I admire but that I'd never heard read. During dinner I joked that it was like a covers album--and I was half-way nervous that I'd end up delivering the poetry equivalent of karaoke. As Monday afternoon went on I was a little nervous just for the fact that Brian was there and he'd never seen me read in public before. I got over that pretty quickly when it struck me I was reading someone else's work and that I should try, as much as possible, to make it sound like her or approximate the ways the work resounds in my head as I read it and not try to make them into "me" poems.

I chose two poems from Vivid Companion, "Ironweed," and "Full Moon: Sitting Up Late at My Father's Bedside." I had a sense (wrongly) that poems from her third book, Six O'Clock Mine Report, would be more prevalent than work from the other books. Actually, once we were done, her first book The Girl With the Stone in Her Lap and Vivid Companion were the most represented--shows what I know. Had I known, I might have picked a couple from Six O'Clock to read. The poems that were read from Six O'Clock are among the best (or maybe I'm biased because they are particular favorites of mine) and I'm glad that they were presented. Likewise, the prose pieces from Girl were a surprising choice--but I can see why they resonate.

If I were to complain about anything, it'd be the actual space itself. It's an interesting auditorium, but the very architecture of the space coupled with the sound system made it muddy and echoey for those of us on-stage to listen. I ended up reading along with several of the poems from Vivid and found myself fighting to make sense of what they were saying in places. It didn't seem to be an issue for the audience--or else Brian didn't tell me.

Other than all that, the only other moment that stands out fell after the reading. Brian and I ran outside for a quick smoke and to call a friend to see about having a drink later that evening. On the way back in I was stopped by a woman in a red t-shirt and khaki shorts who asked "How did you get picked to do this?"

Seen from a Mall--for Aaron

Despite Brian's nightmarish experience flying into Charleston, the little vacay was lovely. It's sort of a drag readjusting to work and home. It was a short trip but we managed to work in lots of shopping. The find of the day was something we didn't buy, though Brian was tempted, just for this label:

Like a Chicken with Its Head Cut Off

That's how I feel this morning. Too too much to do today. But it's going to be worth it. Brian's flight gets in about 11 tonight and then we have a couple of work free days to shop and roam around Charleston.

Thank god for lists.

Don't Forget to Hug Your Catfish

Ok, so June is Gay Pride Month. Most of us roaming around this corner of the interwebs know that. But did you know, June is also:

• Aquarium Month
• National Accordian Awareness Month
• National Adopt A Cat Month
• Turkey Lovers Month
  

Today is the Solstice, but that doesn't mean all the good days are over for June yet.

• June 21--National Hollerin' Contest Day
• June 22--National Chocolate Eclair Day
• June 23--Take Your Dog to Work Day
• June 25--Log Cabin Day (insert republican joke here.)
• June 25--National Catfish Day
• June 26--Beautician's Day
• June 26--Forgiveness Day (coincidence? I think not.)
• June 28--Insurance Awareness Day
• June 29--Waffle Iron Day
• June 30--Meteor Day
  

Poem for the Day

Below is the poem I'll be reading for the tribute Monday. It's from Irene's last book Vivid Companion. An interview with her from earlier this spring can be found here. The poem "Fame" can be found here. Another poem, "Atavistic", was featured on NPR's the Writer's Almanac in April 2005.

Full Moon: Sitting Up Late at My Father’s Bedside

What can I say. The moon looms in the nighttime sky
with brilliance, as it does. But we are going to touch it,

and then it will go away. The animals on earth
are breathing, but someone takes their hearts

and puts them into broken human bodies.
What can I say to those people? You took the heart

of a chimp: you found you could do it,
and you did? Secrets come out of the heart,

and nowhere else. We don’t know how.
What can I say when my father is dying,

with his new eyes and his new heart.
His mind is like a flapping line of laundry,

clothing full of wind. How can I speak
about the babble of his speech? His saying

does not go from here to there, it’s only here.
Out of the dog came five pups, slick wet packets,

each different. They grew at different rates.
Some slept, two leapt around all day.

What can I say about their secret selves,
their paws, their separate ways of walking?

What can be said about their natures, and
their flawed and perfect lives? I gave

them away. They have a new trajectory and
I’m still here. I think about them every day.

My father’s manner is the same as it was
when he was sane. Senility’s a secret, too.

It isn’t vague to him. I see intensity in all
he misconstrues, —I think he misconstrues.

The night is brilliant, and the moon’s too close.
It calls him out: to where, I cannot say.

This Is Just a Tribute

I'm becoming more and more excited about next Monday night and the tribute for Irene. I was nervous and feeling stupid about what I wanted to say and read, so I did a very un-me thing and I called her...basically to get a read on her reaction. We ended up talking over an hour about a little of everything: her neighbors, her new poems, my new poems, my need for a haircut, our anticpation for Monday.

A write up on Irene and for the event is here. I love the poem they reproduce in the article. It was on my shortlist of pieces to read. I opted for another poem from the same book. I'll try to transcribe the one I'm reading and get it online in the next few days.

A general website for the Festivall Charleston is here.

The hosting site's website is here. Frankly that's the most interesting link to me. It's a mix of Federalism and Egyptiana. If the auditorium is ANYTHING like the website I just might have to become a squatter. As soon as I flipped through the website I told Brian that this is one ocassion I must have the digicam for. Truly. It's exceptional.

California Here I Come and Other News

God...it's been almost a month since I blogged. I intended to post before this. I'm going to try to be a little better now that things have slowed down.

But, I've got a few tidbits of good news.

I was picked for one of the 8 poetry spots at this year's Lambda Literary Foundation Retreat in August with DA Powell.

I finished up and mailed out my contributor's agreement for my essay to appear in Michael Montlack's Diva Complex.

I'll be on deck as a speaker/reader at a tribute to Irene McKinney, WV Poet Laureate, next Monday night.

I almost forgot one: Brian's flying in Sunday night and we'll be spending a few days in Charleston.

Finally

I got to do serious gardening today. I cleared about 5 wheelbarrows of old leaves, clumps of grass and weeds from the semi-shade garden beside the front porch. I usually leave a light layer of old leaves for mulch--but since the slugs have already been out and chewing up the spiderwort and hosta I just decided to go for it and clear it all.

I've made two nursery runs and just bought like crazy: two huge japanese painted ferns, two smaller cinnamon ferns, three columbines (burgundy and creme colored), two mourning widows cranesbill geraniums, four coral bells (silver scrolls and midnight rose), four alumroot (snow angel), two white bleeding hearts, and a rosey colored astilbe. I transplanted the chartreuse leaved lungwort from its original bed along with a giant bleeding heart (which divided nicely into four), a large creme astilbe, and a nice clump of hellebore. I still need to transplant some hosta sometime this week, but for now I'm happy.

Step-Cat Bloggin

Brian sent these pics of Jaxper to me last night. I'm feeling awfully "aaaaw, cute kitty" today. I blame the rain. I blame my jello brain. I blame not being able to sleep today. My own cat is not so cute. He's been in a fight with something and has a little bald spot in the middle of his forehead. I am now of course terrified he'll become rabid.

Bluh

The past few days my brain's felt like a jello-mold brain: wiggly and sort of impermeable. Over my days off I've tried to read a few books I've been looking forward to and nothing sticks. Even simple sentences either don't get through or they don't deliver. It's like you're standing over a big old jello concoction, full of carrot shreds, grapes, mandarin oranges and apple bits, and you drop a quarter onto it. There's a thwack and a jiggle but the quarter sticks to the surface. I think it's apricot flavored, too.

OUCH

I have a couple days off so I'm at a friend's place watching his apartment and insanely person-centered cat. This has nothing much to do with anything, except I stopped on the way to get gas. 4.00 a gallon.

Thank God It's Tuesday.

Primary day is here. I hope to god that we can just acknowledge Hillary wins WV and move on. Like Aaron said a few weeks ago, I'm starting to hate the Dems as much as the Republicans at this point. All that said, I'm still going to stop at the polling place this morning on my way home from work and vote. Then I'm going home, poaching some eggs and eating ham.

~*~

And if you're feeling ageist and partisan--check out this website: Things Younger Than John McCain. Chocolate Cookies, Plutonium, and Alaska for just a few.

~*~

And in the unintended irony dept.

GOP's New Slogan Already Being Used To Market Anti-Depressant

Can the makers of Effexor sue?

The Body

Just before my senior year of college I had to have an emergency appendectomy. All told it was a horrible experience. I had to have a drain, a small length of the stitches got infected, I dropped weight like crazy, the surgeon didn't believe in anything beyond minimal pain management. I was never one of those people who felt like my body was infallible, that I had boundless energy, but that whole year (August to August) was just punishing.

I developed (and still have, though to a lesser degree) an obsession with surgical photography and anatomical art/studies. I had a copy of Max Aguilera-Hellweg's The Sacred Heart for about a month during grad school (tucked out of the way lest friends got too skeeved out.)

A few weeks ago, Peter posted about the Medical Venus and I was entranced by that confluence of religious iconography, the fine arts and anatomical study.

Sometime after that (it's been such a blur the last couple of weeks, I can't remember where or when), I found a link to The Kaibo Zonshinzu anatomy scrolls, painted by Yasukazu Minagaki. They're gruesome but more fascinating to me because of how they incorporate Eastern aesthetics with anatomy. Trust me...they're not really for the squeamish. But I've meant to blog about them for a while so I thought I'd toss this out.

Happy Mother's Day

But Think of the Dog!

From the Kitsap Sun:

Highly intoxicated and dissatisfied with her sex life, a 28-year-old woman was arrested Tuesday for stealing her husband's wallet and later assaulting the deputy who booked her into jail.

The meltdown, which deputies witnessed along with the couple's 3- and 4-year-old children, started when the husband, 24, had told his wife they had three hours to quit smoking, drinking, swearing and engaging in some sex acts because "they were going to be good Christians now," the woman said.

The man said she had woken him up to have relations, but then became disappointed and angry.

How dissapointed and angry? This disappointed and angry:

When deputies arrived, the woman denied any assault had taken place, and repeatedly, without sparing a vulgar euphemism, told the deputies about how unsatisfied she was with her sex life — some of the time carrying around a half-gallon of whiskey while doing so.

During an argument with one of the deputies, the woman picked up the family's 20-pound dog and threw it at the deputy, who caught it, the report said.

I love that: without sparing a vulgar euphemism.

But she wasn't done for the night:

The deputies convinced the couple to separate for the night, and the man said he was taking their children to a hotel. But the 28-year-old returned to the apartment and took her husband's wallet, military identification card and keys.

The woman resisted being arrested for theft — her screams were described as "blood-curdling" by one of the deputies. The deputy who drove the woman to jail reported she questioned his manhood, asked God to forgive him because "he knows not what he does," and "donkey-kicked" him in the shin while he attempted to walk her from his patrol car to the jail, reports said.

She was booked for second-degree theft and third-degree assault.

Like a Locust in a Pantsuit

I woke up this morning to discover that the Clintons have hit WV, defying massive debt and mathematics they drag this freak show out . Bill and his waggy finger will be in a little town about a half hour from me tomorrow. Great.

She'll win this state. She'll declare it a gamechanger or a tideturner or some other hackneyed piece o crap that allegedly shows she's a fighter and tough and in it to win it. She'll ask for people to go to her website and give her money three or four times in her post primary speech. The pundits will pretend that she still has a chance and drag this Bataan death march of a primary on. She'll hemorrhage cash. Her negatives will hit new highs.

Can it be Wednesday, May 14 now? She was in Shepherdstown, WV today for a presser. (If Dana Milbank's blog post is right, the behind the scenes action was much better than the actual presser,if only for the parade of ironies.) As soon as she gave her line about "If this was the Republican primary, I'd be the nominee now" line, I tuned out.

Her every appearance reminds me of this:

Nights of the Living Dread

I am knackered. Work has been insane. I've not had a proper day off in about two weeks and have logged an ungodly amount of overtime since then. The overtime pay's nice--but the sense of life being nothing but a cycle of "work, home, work home" is just harrowing. Today, the phones are going off and I'm going to sleep and sleep and sleep. Maybe I'll play in the flowerbeds if I'm motivated later...they need it. Desperately.

~*~

This movie is playing on pay per view right now. I really want to see it. I need some trash. A trailer--huzzah!--can be found here.

IDQotM--Little Bird

Conceptually, this is my favorite Annie Lennox video. The whole cavalcade of personae pushing and shoving for stage time just tickles me. Plus there's some high quality drag work here. It's not among my favorite songs from the Diva album, but it's fun.

Crack and Cack

From Spiegel online. Click the link if you want to see the picture.

"Henry's whip" is the house speciality at Beijing's Guolizhuang restaurant. It's
a sheep's penis on a stick covered in mayonnaise, sweet cheese, served on a bed
of lettuce.

MMMMM Penis on a stick....seriously...this dish seems like a whole series of culinary cum genital puns...somehow...except the lettuce.

~*~

And from WBZTV Boston:

"Fluffy," a 45-pound alligator snapping turtle, is now living
there on loan to the aquarium's "Killer Instincts" exhibit. Before coming to Boston, Fluffy
actually belonged to a drug dealer in New York who used the turtle to guard his
stash. The aquarium told WBZ this is actually becoming more and more common.

IDQotM--There Must Be An Angel (Playing With My Heart)

Live in 1999 with Stevie Wonder.

I've always loved the descant.

Diva

My essay on Annie Lennox will be appearing in Michael Montlack's anthology Diva Complex. It's set for a spring '09 release date from University of Wisconsin Press. I think there's going to be a fabulous roster of contributors.

Coulda Shoulda Woulda

The bleeding hearts' first blooms

Off today and there was so much I was going to do: weed out some beds and get them prepped for new plantings, get a haircut, run to the store and grab some groceries for a proper home-cooked dinner. But--I slept until after 1:3o, canceled it all and just schlepped around the house. I cleared a few things from the flower bed nearest the front door. There's always next week.

Not a total waste though, I worked on poems and put together another submission packet to mail out tomorrow. Flipped through a few books and just relaxed. I haven't even bothered to shower yet.

Like 13

Awkward today. Like my legs are too long, my arms are too long, and all my joints are poorly articulated. Usually I feel like I'm centered in my torso, knotted and tense as it is. Today though, I feel like I'm all extremity--like I'm reaching for a cup but not really sure where my hand is in relation to my body or any fixed point around me. It is not entirely unpleasant.

IDQotM--Would I Lie to You 2000

Two Lips and Happy

I'm going to hesitate before I declare it truly springy here. Sure it was 80 today and sunny and clear and lovely. But that doesn't insure it'll stay that way. Snows in April are not uncommon. But for now it's beautiful. Windows wide open and I don't even mind the twittering birds.

The chartreuse leaved lungwort is coming up in little clumps, so my dividing and transplanting last year apparently did no damage. The purple butterfly bush is finally on its way to being a full-bore shrub. No cutting it back to the ground this year, old growth from last year is budding. Things I don't even remember planting last year are coming up and I can't find my little diagrams to help me remember.

I'm not usually a fan of either: a) tulips once they're out of the bud stage or b) yellow flowers, but these I got last year on clearance for .25 a four pack and bedded are surprisingly jaunty. I think it's the little blush of pinky red

IDQotM: I Need a Man

qarrtsiluni

My poem "Something Got Inside" is up today at qarrtsiluni.

Thanks to Dave for advice regarding punctuation and for cleaning up the audio.

More thanks to Brent and Ken for giving the poem a home.

Especial thanks to Maggie Anderson, Jan Beatty, and Irene McKinney for input and advice on an earlier draft. I also can't forget to thank Aaron for his help and advice when I was sick of the poem and didn't know what to do with it.

Leftovers

Porkchop was back tonight. But not too talkative. I was, I admit, a little bummed.

~*~

Still revising poems, thinking about how all this stuff fits together. My big focii for this round: space, image, sound. Order may vary, products may settle during shipment.

~*~

Tomorrow night, tonight?, I head to Baltimore for a few days with Brian. It'll be nice to get away. Ususally, I go with no agenda--but there's a few things I definitely want to do. The main thing? I want to grab a meal at Cafe Hon. I never knew it existed til B. told me earlier this year. It's now an obsession.

No...Really?

You know it's gonna be a long night when the first person you talk to is a woman who says :
"Hi. I'm Pork Chop. How you doin' this evenin'?"

Afterglow

Yesterday was a good good day on all fronts. Warm and sunny and springy.

Got my Amazon order-- Jan Beatty's new book Red Sugar is marvelous. Just knock you back on your heels good. Also got the new REM album, Accelerate. Much better to me than their last couple of albums. I love "I'm Gonna DJ." Also the new Gnarls Barkley. I'm saving that one to listen to when I roadtrip to Baltimore at the end of the week.

In honor of NaPoWrithe Month, I revised an essay and some poems. I'm not really generating new material. I did enough of that at the end of last year into the beginning of this year. I'm just trying to work every day on old stuff and see how it fits.

~*~

It was especially good yesterday because I got to spend time with Aaron and Irene. Seeing Aaron twice in the same year is like some extra bonus karma. Seeing Irene is always delightful. The luxury of talking about poems and life and all that stuff for several hours in her sunny front room is just simply perfect.

Driving home in the afternoon I was thinking about the fact that I'm genuinely lucky. The most important people in my life have been part of my life for about 15 years. There's a sort of luxury in that--the long abiding affection, the sense of knowing someone, the surprise and pleasure at seeing them grow into themselves.

Ne Plus Ultra--IDQotM: Annie Lennox

Out of all the Inner Drag Queens--she's the supreme. Eurythmics' "Missionary Man."

Bring My Happy Back Again

This song has been knocking around in my head this week. I always loved REM's UP album, especially this track. Back when I did a lot of karaoke, I'd look for it in the song lists--unsurprisingly, I never found it. Ah, what might have been.

The Week that Was

Oy. Vey. Shmir.

Here's a quick recap of the week:

Monday: Bad mail day. Rejection packets. Completed application for a summer retreat went into the mail.

Tuesday: Normalish day off. Fletcher brought a large mole-like thing to the welcome mat. Mucked out the beds a little bit. Worked on revisions. Attempted to track my Amazon.com order.

Wednesday: Got to work, discovered there had been a drug bust in the hotel the day before. Arrests in the parking lot. Attempts to escape, then the dumbass local criminals return only to be arrested in and near the parking lot. Stupid employee fired. Discover that my schedule for the rest of the week is changed and that goes double for the rest of the month.

Thursday: Training new person. INSANITY from the get-go. I didn't stop moving for the first three hours. The rest of the time was just sort of slow and off-kilter. I like her though. She repeatedly called someone I loathe a douchebag. I never feel closer to someone than when we hate the same people. Missed a poetry reading on campus that I'd been looking forward to for a couple of weeks. Repeatedly sang the "Numa Numa" song because of the previous night's South Park episode. Hotel drug bust hits the local media: tv and print. Yay.

Friday: Slept til after 1 pm. Loved it. Played a little with the plants outside. The fire red tulips are blooming like crazy and I snipped a few daffodils to put in an old jelly jar on my desk. I can't remember what half of the plants coming up are right now or when certain ones come up again. I fear I killed several last year when I tried separating and transplanting. Napped a bit after dinner.

Next week looks better. There are several things I'm anticipating. But we'll just have to see how that goes.

Lung(wort) Transplant

Have You Seen This?

Today's post for Qarrtsiluni just knocked me out.

Sideswipes and T-Bones

I've been in no mood to read poetry for the last several days. So I've dug into my long boxes and read comic books instead. I've enjoyed this break from the tyranny of thought and feeling.

~*~

Tulips budding, lilacs sending out new leaves, and the lungwort transplants are blooming their little pink blooms. It's clear today. 60 and breezy. I wish I was in the yard instead of at work.

~*~

I slept stupid the other night and am trying to convince my left shoulder that it's not pinched and painful. I am failing in this. It's time to call Dr. Oshi. I need adjusted.

Madonna as Never Before

Iggy and the Stooges covering "Burning Up" and "Ray of Light" from the 2008 RnR Hall of Fame Inductions.

From the Front Page of a Local Paper

Blargh!

The last four or five days have been crazy as far as work goes: people quitting with no notice, a vicious stomach bug that knocked people out for a few days, etc. It's been hectic. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday I felt like I was getting kicked in the head. Over and over and over.

And then there was the missing food. That I think is what really set me off and made me overly emotional. It was nothing big. Just a frozen dinner I had in the office fridge for lunch. Three dollars max. I show up Friday morning and look in the freezer for something and it's gone. I asked the person who was about to leave if he'd eaten it. He said no, so I knew who it was. And I was livid. Matter of principle stuff, basic up-bringing: if it's not yours don't eat it.

The manager comes in about 8 am to pick up deposits and paperwork for the accounting. I say something to her about it. She cocks her head, much the way a cocker spaniel would if it was waiting for some bit of food to fall off the table. She nods repeatedly, her way of showing "I hear what you're saying, I care," and says: "Well, RJ. Remember, it's Easter. Jesus died for our sins." Seriously. No irony. Nothin. "I didn't ask for anyone to die for my sins. I just want my lunch back." Again she nods like a hyper bobble. "So you don't think much about the eternal." "I'm very much a here-and-now kind of guy. And here and now? I want my lunch back."

Happy Easter from the Bad Peeps

Gnarls Barkley--Run

From their upcoming album, The Odd Couple.

Why Amn't I Sleeping?

Sleep is where I'm a viking. I like that. It's better than dreaming about work and mysteriously appearing and disappearing clothes. But, I digress.

I should be asleep. I should be acclimated to my new diurnal schedule. But, obviously, I'm not. It's almost 4 in the morning. It's windy outside and the maple's limbs are beating the roof, the bunches of wind chimes are cacophonous and awful. The cat is tearing through the house like he's been dosed with PCP doing his usual circuit of kitchen, living room, bathroom, reverse, repeat. When he's not doing that he's insisting he sleep on my chest with his face in mine. He needs to go on a diet.

I went to a reading last night by my friend and former teacher Irene. She was, as usual, grand. A nice mix of older poems, some short short essays which she's been reading for a series on the local public radio stations, and some new poems. One of the essays and the final poem brought tears to my eyes. I was gut punched. They're magnificent. We're planning a visit in the next couple of weeks. I'm glad, it's always a good afternoon. Even though she doesn't live far, maybe 40 minutes away, I feel like I never see her often enough.

Blossom Bloggin

I started cleaning out the flower beds today, mucking out the old spent stems and seed heads. The white crocuses are finally blooming (thanks for the heads up on that Pamela), the daffodils are budding and the teeny tiny tete-a-tete daffodils are in bloom. They're ridiculously small, but spread and naturalize like a dream.

Happy Birthday, Brian

He's 27 today.

Happy Pi Day

Balance and Tipping

Sunny and beautiful but that's deceptive. There's still a bit of a chill. Really perfect though. The crocuses are blooming like mad, deep purple all over the place, but I was pretty sure I'd planted white ones as well. What gives?

Fletcher has brought me his second offering of the spring, a mole. As long as he keeps these on the front porch I'm fine with it. Keep them out of my tulips.

Have yet to hit the Powerball, so so much for the poet retirement plan. Ah well.

Taxes, done. Birthday cards, done and mailed. Overall a good day.

Bad Bad Blogger

Signing on last night, I saw that I had a comment from Collin asking if I'd died. "It's not been that long since I posted," I thought. Then I realized it's been almost two weeks. Crazy. Where's the time gone? What've I done with it?

I was out of town the last two weekends, so that accounts for part of it. I've been slogging away at revisions and an application for a retreat. That's part of it. But as for the rest, I have no clue.

I'm ready to get out and play with plants again. Daffodils, crocuses, tulips and these little things called stars of Bethlehem have been popping up all over the yard. No blooms yet, just great dark clumps of foliage. The lenten rose has yet to bloom--which is a major disappointment. They're supposed to bloom in the early part of the year, while there's still snow on the ground. The mornings have been a cacophony of bird song. It's almost spring. Finally.