Page Meets Stage last night was one of the best poetry events I have been to in a long time. Logic and Steve Abbott were both so good, and the question and answer session afterwards was thought provoking, insightful, and inspiring.
The format built wonderful energy and a feeling of poetic momentum. It was a special feeling to sit down in a room full of people who were there to hear two really great poets perform their work and then listen to them share their ideas about poetry. The audience was chock full of people you knew were serious about poetry -- the art of it, their love of it, the whole endeavor.
It felt expansive. It felt like you gained by your attendance.
Louise did an incredible job pulling this event together. My imaginary hat is off, off, off.
I've read to page 100. I'd have read more, of course, but I got a couple of other things going down right now. A lot of internal monologue to date, but that's typical.
So far, so DECENT. He's already killed about half as many people as he's introduced, so it does kind of turn your head a bit. Cell might have killed more people, but it didn't do so this intricately.
More as I progress, but not today. I'm far too behind on NaNo.
I went to the Candygram launch on Saturday night, to celebrate Emma having her First Draft Haiku/Nuku published. Yeah, Emma! In fact, Emma's haiku is the shining star of this new literary publication.
The best thing that I can say about the journal (aside from how much Emma's work stands out for its loveliness), is that it makes me really glad to be a member of the Writers' Block community. I am completely spoiled by my prolonged exposure to a scene where people are actively interested in growing as writers.
Reading Candygram--and I did read it, cover to cover--left me with the taste of think-they're-genius-writers-who-are-so-brilliant-there-is-NO-NEED-to-edit-or-in-any-way-craft-their-work lingering long after the volume was closed.
They spelled haiku as HIKU. Twice.
Besides Emma's work, there was one piece that could generously be described as a prose poem, which was killing me because it had the potential to be quite good if only the author had cared enough to tighten it up (or even perhaps read it over a second time). There was also one photograph that I liked, and when I flipped to the table of contents to see if that photographer had any other pictures included, I realized that the table of contents for the back half of the book was incorrect. The page that should have displayed that photographer's second picture instead showed a poorly drawn sketch of a deformed looking fox. The photograph was on the page behind it.
Sloppy.
Perhaps this is an unfair critique. Perhaps I am coming down too hard on Candygram, when I should just be happy that there is a new publication on the literary landscape here in town. Perhaps I should not disparage the work of others, when I do not publish a literary journal myself. But if you expect my time and attention as a reader, I expect you to likewise put some time and attention into what you are producing.
Louise Robertson's version of Taylor Mali's Page Meets Stage show last night was awesome. What a wonderful blend of poetry and audience! The Q&A was mad fruitful, and it's good to have another type of show in town. Louise has been trying to make it happen for a long time and Steve Abbott and Logic were great starters.
It was also good to be able to sit back and absorb a show with no pressure or opportunity to perform. A show focused solely on the featured cats really allows the audience to dig into the work and the theories and how they may apply to them. You can also take note of the cats who can sit and learn from their peers, as opposed to the cats that won't go anywhere if they can't perform (and not learn).
A really good time, and very different than all the other readings in style and mission. Hear that, biters? Don't bite. Just shut up and embrace.
“I love seeing with lines are resonating with people,” says a comment from one of the shirt’s creators.
i know mine.
Christmas.
I imagine there’s a normal progression from the giddy excitement of Christmas when you can count your age on your fingers* to the point where you feel grown up because you helped make the pies and were trusted with drying the good china after your mom washed it, to the point where you’re expected to buy presents for people you don’t like because you know they’re buying you things you don’t like.
But the normal progression gets kind of stalled when your brother dies just before you turn 24 and you move away just after. Now Christmas is fraught with landmines just under the surface of everything said and done, the joy of nostalgic itches that are scratched by everything being just the same as it always is; I can recite the food on the dinner table, the particular cheap wine, the candy and the plates it’ll be on, the sorts of clothes we’ll wear and the conversations we’ll have.
And yet however loud my aunt and cousins are, they are all but drowned out of the heavy silence of my brother not being there. On this day where everybody should be where they belong, you can’t fool yourself that he’s just somewhere else, at work or with his friends, as I do most of the rest of the year -- a fraud so easy my subconscious pulls it off without me noticing, most of the time.
But not at Christmas.
Like everyone else, the best I can do is enjoy what I have, when I can, but...
My other favorite comment there is the guy who says I keep adding to it in my head: “chocolate cake” “growing up” “Veteran’s Day with a WW2 vet at home eager to tell his hair-raising tales while a brother is in Afghanistan”.
I’d add...
Airports.
Old hymns.
Being the first one to roll over and go to sleep.
Laundromats.
Babies.
It is complicated.
* I don’t know if I have ever been as happy as I was the year there was a box under the tree that seemed as big as I was, and it had my name on it. No afternoon nap was taken that year! I tried my best but I couldn’t lay still for anything. When you’re that age size does matter, and I believed that I must have been very good indeed that year.
The contents of the box ended up being pretty great -- a dollhouse my grandpa had made for me, with little people and little furniture they’d bought and little rugs my grandma had crocheted -- but nowhere near as great as the anticipation, the impossibility of imagining what could be in that box.
Anyway, though I remember marvelling at the tiny faucets on the tiny sink, and envying the tiny people their patio furniture, but I was never really a doll person.
Thursday: preparing for the colonoscopy Friday: can't remember much of anything. Clearly the conscious sedation works. Saturday: Meeting retreat, music purchases for a wedding Sunday: Meeting events, shopping.
PS: Hi to cyan_blue and brian1789. I saw you in Safeway but didn't engage my verbal skills to say hi until you both were long gone!
I am furious and so sad at the same time. An (ex) friend of mine, nursing a grudge, never able to accept responsibility for his own choices, attacked one of my friends on the beach today, punching him, trying to push him into the water, threatening to make him bleed the next time he saw him.
The story is too long to go into. We used to be good friends. He would occasionally be emotionally manipulative, but he is capable of amazing generosity. And yes, there were some things in the past that could and should have been handled better by other people.
But nothing, NOTHING, justifies assault. I told my friend that if this happens again--hell, perhaps even without that--he should press charges. Our ex-friend needs help.
I don't know. Where do you draw the line between wanting to help and washing your hands of someone once and for all?
My husband and I were married on August 8th of this year, and we planned on him moving here to America. Things happened, and now I'm moving there to be with him. I was reading on how to start the immigration for a marriage visa, but was totally confused, can anyone tell me or direct me to the visa/immigration process?
I'm all in favor of seeing the blues get its props in a film. And as someone who writes a lot about blues and juke joints and black folks, I understand the appeal of magical negroes. What I could go the rest of my days without seeing yet again is the cliche use of these elements to save white folks. Thanks, Hounddog for being so overrated and reveling in your ignorance so unabashedly.
Now, I say this as someone who wrote a novel about a white guy who seeks out blackness to resolve his issues. But he doesn't win in my story, and I don't turn him into a defacto black.
I'm going to watch Grumpy Old Men for the tenth time. It may have an old black man in it, but he ain't magical. And after 2012, I want the world to end a year early. May as well do it while in the throes of a genuinely perfect movie.
This was the week we finally hit the hockey rinks this season. On Wednesday we went to see the Blue Jackets take on the Detroit Red Wings. I've seen my teams play many games live in my life. Wednesday night's game was the worst I had ever seen live. It was horrible, embarrassing to watch and I missed Smokey Oolong show up at Writer's Block to see a putrid spectacle. The Blue Jackets lost 9-1.
Here's part of a poem I wrote after wards.
We're left mopping up mud puddles after heavy loss Ones evaporating dreams, ambitions, abilities - our projections of what success should be When we enter a sporting arena Wondering why we observe well paid young men To hit each other on a slippery surface, with sticks Tomorrow, what happens outside of the two hours spent forgetting about the troubles of the day is always more important Maybe it's the Zamboini we desire With its quiet resurfacing of the ice, readying it for a fresh start, for every period, every game. It's the calm grace of the swirling of the organ music in the background we're seeking out - and Waiting for a small version of the Zamboni to drive around in our heads and lives as we sleep
Last night we made the first trip to the Schott to see the Ohio State Hockey Team play Western Michigan. That the opposition did not score a minute into the game was an improvement over the game we saw two nights previous. I had known that OSU had problems winning on Friday nights this year and that they were down 1-0 going into the third period was not a good sign.
But our fears were eliminated after the Buckeyes tied it up, then went ahead and added another. They scored three goals in a raucous 49 seconds to put the game away.
We were sitting a couple of rows behind the OSU bench and were tickled to see the players fist bumping the kids who gathered before and after the game. Even the Broncos did something nice. A puck went into their bench during the game and one of the WMU assistants tossed it over the glass to a kid. Classy act Western Michigan!
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I made it through the prep and the colonoscopy. It was less unpleasant than i remember: leaving the flavor packs out of the TriLyte was probably a good move. It was oddly disruptive as far as time management: i managed to work all morning (yay), and didn't deal with one financial task (checking our flex account in preparation for open enrollment, and i've all sorts of tasks to do to prepare for Sunday committee meetings and leading an adult ed session on Membership. Yesterday i felt fine, but i have a feeling that i was not as present as i thought i was. I did mull the apple juice i'd bought for the day before and get some tidying done, though. I didn't make the call i was supposed to make.
I've just now made sure i understand what's needed for annual enrollment. Yay for benefits! I always fear i'm going to do something wrong and screw up my benefits. Working for the Whale, however, they're able to invest in making sure the process is as clear as possible. Although, like so much with the Whale, i find there's a marketing-like spin that leaves a bad taste in my mouth: figuring out what the benefit changes are is a bit of a headache. On the other hand, it's nothing one can do anything about. And the benefits are very good: i really don't care that the frames are now subsidized once every 24 months instead of 12, i resent having to try and figure out what the change is. (Actually, environmentally, i think that's a good change.)
***
Christine's brought my attention to the Progressive Majority, an attempt to focus on getting progressives in government. "We may have an overwhelming Democratic majority in the Congress, but it's not a progressive majority." My curiosity is piqued! I suppose the parallel naming to the Moral Majority is no accident. One of the
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I made it through the prep and the colonoscopy. It was less unpleasant than i remember: leaving the flavor packs out of the TriLyte was probably a good move. It was oddly disruptive as far as time management: i managed to work all morning (yay), and didn't deal with one financial task (checking our flex account in preparation for open enrollment, and i've all sorts of tasks to do to prepare for Sunday committee meetings and leading an adult ed session on Membership. Yesterday i felt fine, but i have a feeling that i was not as present as i thought i was. I did mull the apple juice i'd bought for the day before and get some tidying done, though. I didn't make the call i was supposed to make.
I've just now made sure i understand what's needed for annual enrollment. Yay for benefits! I always fear i'm going to do something wrong and screw up my benefits. Working for the Whale, however, they're able to invest in making sure the process is as clear as possible. Although, like so much with the Whale, i find there's a marketing-like spin that leaves a bad taste in my mouth: figuring out what the benefit changes are is a bit of a headache. On the other hand, it's nothing one can do anything about. And the benefits are very good: i really don't care that the frames are now subsidized once every 24 months instead of 12, i resent having to try and figure out what the change is. (Actually, environmentally, i think that's a good change.)
***
Christine's brought my attention to <a href="http://americanfm.livejournal.com/28515.html">the Progressive Majority</a>, an attempt to focus on getting progressives in government. "We may have an overwhelming Democratic majority in the Congress, but it's not a progressive majority." My curiosity is piqued! I suppose the parallel naming to the Moral Majority is no accident. One of the <a href="http://www.progressivemajority.org/MissionAgenda/'>"platform" policies</a> is equality, so one would hope that addressing the marriage issue would be as important as pro-choice issues. It is not clearly spelled out. Those folks who have decided not to throw money at the Democratic party, might find this a useful change. Wikipedia has little - -nothing on the talk page -- but notes "Public officials elected with the help of Progressive Majority include California Secretary of State Debra Bowen,...."
I remember how quickly i saw through Move On, and how disappointed some of my friends were as they discovered it was not really a grass roots progressive group, but controlled by people who supported the Democratic Party as a party. I find my level of cynicism leads me to wonder if this is just a way to extract money and participation without true change.
***
<lj-cut text="health notes">Next Colonoscopy in ten years said the scope-Doctor, so Yay!
I've reached the point where i believe my GI weirdness, while having similar symptoms to the onset of ulcerative colitis, is its own special thing. Or mild IBS, which my nutritionist pointed out as being just a label for the symptoms. My GI weirdness not my most disruptive health issue, and it seemed to have no correlation with the diet experiment.
I suppose i should create a tracking sheet for the next three and a half months.
We have a dynamic duo of spoken word and musical sounds in the Jory Farr / Colin Martin combo that will be featuring at First Draft next week! Jory is a talented and dynamic poet who reads his words and then allows Colin to tranform their feeling into music. It is poetry in musical motion with these two, and they are sure to give us an engaging and entertaining feature of new poetic material and musical response.
After their feature, we will be having the traditional First Draft Open Mic, where new poems and new poets are always welcome. If you're gathering up your courage to hit the mic for the first time, mark this night on your calendar as the time to do it! If you're a poet who performs all the time, this is your chance to hit the mic with your new or never performed work!
Hope to see you there!
First Draft Open Mic Friday, November 20 8pm Kafe Kerouac 2250 N High Street $3 Cover
Either one of these guys should be a draw! Logic, veteran of the National Poetry Slam stage, haiku champion, will trade poems with Steve Abbott, master craftsman and veteran of the battlefields of print publication. Then, time to ask them questions, see what really goes on behind the poetry.
We'll have soda and water. BYOB is allowed.
Page Meets Stage (Columbus) Logic and Steve Abbott Sunday, Nov. 15, 8 pm, $5 @ The Wild Goose Creative 2491 Summit St. (near the Summit/Hudson intersection) Columbus, OH 43202 More information: loui526@yahoo.comPost A Comment | Add to Memories | Tell a Friend | Link
Tim is playing a Wavy Gravy compilation. I'm entertained but I'm still buying a car. fuck him. I know a nor'easter as a snowstorm that will occasionally hit Cleveland in the winter. I had no idea that it was an east coast storm system. Now I know. I think a good occasional storm is really good. It puts everyone back on track and allows us to hunker a bit. Last year we were powerless for a week with hurricane Ike and I spent five days at home with the kids playing Farkle and Cards and the occasional board game. I liked it! Of course, spending 48 hours with the heavens pissing on you and just watching water rise isn't fun. At one point this evening when I could hear the transformer blow and the winds started to blow I kept thinking that there are very limited ways to get off of this peninsula and I wasn't very happy. I am also a bit uncomfortable about what is amounting to a five day weekend. Monday will not be fun.
One more thing to bitch about is this crazy cutter who is in my meditation group. This full grown lady decided to threaten suicide this week. It seems like whenever a storm starts to get all of the attention, the mentally ill bubble to the surface. All I can say is that when you tell me that you are going to end your life I will call the police. Either I have saved your life or I have ensured that you will never tell me that you are going to kill yourself ever again.
Mr DJ has made me a little happier. Earlier today I found out that Pandora thinks I am a gay man. Yes, I like Devo but I'm really not into Tears for Fears. hmmmmm.....
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okay
