Mr. Harold "Hart" Crane...

So right now I'm reading about Hart Crane, a really good biography I picked up on the Prairie Lights sale table...


And I'm struck by how little poetry-land has changed. He keeps whining about:


1. How expensive it is to live in NY, but how much better the scene is there. Despite that he mostly whines from Cleveland.


2. How there are too many little magazines, and nobody reads them anyway.


3. How a poet can't begin to make a living in America, and it's better in Europe.


I guess nothing has much changed. I'm not sure if it makes me feel better, or worse...

Come see me read!!!

What's up, Atlanta...


In case you hadn't heard, there's a presidential election this Tuesday. Our country is picking the man who will either:


A) lead us to a promising future thanks to a sort of modern, intelligent mindset, or


B) lead us to something along the lines of the year 1861.


The Duck & Herring Co., in association with Criminal Records, wants to make your Election Day as fun and entertaining as possible.


Here are the details:


TITLE:Reading #1 A Complete Waste of Time: Free Beer and Fiction, If You Voted


DATE:Election Day, November 2, 2004


TIME:5p – 7p, or thereabouts


PLACE:Criminal Records in Atlanta's Little Five Points


WHY:To promote political discourse and fiction readings in Atlanta.


COST:Free

One-issue voters...

Working in Jew-land, I talk to a lot of folks who feel so strongly about Israel, they'd vote for Satan for Prez as long as he supported America-Israel policy...


And so, they support Bush. Despite the fact that he thinks, as a born-again-Christian, that they're all going to hell, and that he wants to restrict civil liberties, and that he thinks gay folks aren't people...


Oh yeah, and also he's a moron. Rides the short bus.


But he's "strong on Israel" and whether that's only because he hates A-rabs, or because of oil, or because someone told him to be "strong on Israel" doesn't much matter. Either way, so many Jews will vote Red.


Which is SO WEIRD!!! That otherwise thinky people can't think about this.


Long story short... today, Dershowitz sent out an open letter to the Jewish community, advising AGAINST voting for Bush... and I figure if anyone can convince Jews to vote for Kerry, as a vote for Israel, it's Dershowitz.


So here it is. Read it if you like. Forward it to your Jewish friends. And for God's sake (whichever God) go VOTE!



A Message to the American Jewish Community from Professor Alan Dershowitz:


There are American Jews who have said recently that although they support John Kerry's positions on every major domestic issue - - from the Supreme Court to women's rights to gay rights - - they plan to vote for President Bush because they believe Bush would be better for Israel.


Respectfully, I believe they are wrong for two reasons. First, I know personally how strongly John Kerry feels about a safe and secure Israel. I remember vividly when John went to Israel with our dear mutual friend, the late Lenny Zakim, the New England director of the ADL. On his return, that's all John could talk about - - his admiration for Israel's combination of strength and determination to make peace.


He has a perfect pro-Israel voting record in the Senate and I have no doubt that, as president , John Kerry's unwavering commitment to Israel will continue.


President Bush, though well intentioned on Israel, has hurt the Jewish nation's position in the world.


The actions of the United States in Iraq, especially since President Bush prematurely declared "mission accomplished", have been disastrous for Israel. The failures in Iraq have weakened the influence of the United States in the Middle East and have made it much more difficult for us to thwart Iran's determination to develop nuclear weapons aimed at Israeli population centers. The Iranian mullahs know that Americans could not stomach another military action in Iran while the occupation of Iraq continues.


This reality, confirmed by President Bush during the first debate, has emboldened them to speed up their nuclear program - - a program that poses the greatest existential threat to Israel, the Jewish people and ultimately America, since an Iranian nuclear program could result in terr orists with dirty bombs.


The current Bush policy with regard to Iraq has weakened America's war against terror by diverting military and other resources to a quagmire that is only getting worse.The second reason is that pro-Israel votes should not turn an American presidential election into a referendum on Israel.


Our goal must be to keep support for Israel a bipartisan issue - - and in this we have succeeded.


Pro-Israel voters are free in this election to vote based on other important issues, such as women's rights, separation of church and state and the Supreme Court.These issues actually coalesce in practice. If President Bush is reelected, he will have as many as four Supreme Court vacancies in his first year: and he has told us exactly who he intends to fill them with: clones of his two favorite justices - - Scalia and Thomas.


A Bush Supreme Court will put at risk a woman's right to choose abortion. Equally important it will lower the wall of s eparation between church and state and increase the power of the religious right. Although the religious right has been very supportive of Israel - - especially in comparison with the Presbyterian and Episcopal branches of Protestantism - - their agenda for the American future poses considerable danger to the Jewish future in America.


They envision a Christian state with Christian schools and a Christian Supreme court. Listen to the Texas Republican Party platform which "affirms that the United States is a Christian naton" and refers to the "myth of the separation of church and state."


Listen to Lou Sheldon, the founder of the "Traditional Values Coalition": "We were here first..We are the keepers of what is right and what is wrong."


And listen to Ralph Reed, the director of the Christian Coalition: "What Christians have to do is to take back the country..I honestly believe that in my lifetime we will see a country once again governed by Christians.and Christian values."


And to Jerry Falwell: "I hope to see the day when as in the early days of our country, we won't have any public schools. The churches will have taken them over again and Christians will be running them..We must never allow our children to forget that this is a Christian nation. We must take back what is rightfully ours."


And to Pat Robertson: "The Constitution of the United States.is a marvelous document for self-government by Christian people. But the minute you turn the document into the hands of non-Christian people and atheist people, they can use it to destroy the very foundation of our society. And that's what's been happening ..If Christian people work together, they can succeed.in winning back control of the institutions that have been taken from them over the past 70 years."T


he Bush Administration supports the lowering of the wall of separation. Its prayer breakfasts, its faith-based programs, its Ashcroft Justice Department, and its evangelical rhetoric are all music to the ears of the proselytizing Religious Right.


Remember President Bush's inauguration, which was dedicated to "our savior Jesus Christ" and seemed more like a Christian prayer service than a national civic event?


A Kerry-Edwards Administration would keep the wall hig h. Senator Edwards has warned that "faith should not be used to divide us." Jews especially have an important stake in the separation of church and state. We are first class citizens of this great nation precisely because no religious tests may be required for holding office and because the state may not favor one religion over another or religion over non-religion. We must preserve that neutrality for the good of America, the good of Jews and the good of the world.



Professor Alan M. Dershowitz is Felix Frankfurter Professor of Law at Harvard Law School.

Kareem is going to die tonight...

Because I'm going to pay someone to kill her.


"Put down."


"Put to sleep."


"Euthanize."


These are the niceties, none-too-nice. The things we tell ourselves when we "have to" do something awful.


I don't need justification. She's lost 8 lbs in two days. She's depressed, neurologic. My house is covered with shit and blood, and I can't afford (anymore) to take a vacation over winter break, because we've had our break already, been broken.


I don't need justification, but I like to call it like I see it.


This poor poor girl, this baby, this defenseless animal that never had half a fucking chance... is too sick to save, and rather than wait and watch the suffering, or dump her in an alley, I'm going to pay someone to kill her.


Because that's how we do it these days. That's what we do.


Funny, that for all the things the internet can do, it can't show you how hard I'm sobbing right now.


But I am.

The great poetry manhunt of 2004...

Last night, after a daunting day of Jewish programming (for Itzchak Rabin Memorial Day), Chris and I drove out to Athens so I could read at the Vox Reaqding Series, with Danielle Pafunda. At the request of the lovely Miss Sabrina.


The reading was fabulous once we finally arrived. It was a delight to see Sabrina (whom I'd not laid eyes on since Iowa) and Danielle was so good... A bonus was that Johannes Goransson was there... and I didn't even recognize him with his beard!


But on the way there, we got slowed (and intermittently stopped) by a manhunt along highway 316. Cops were making a "perimeter" in hot pursuit of some luckless soul...


Oh my!

How to throw a party...

First, you need to have food. So we made some food, and put it in Susan's bedroom. I guess that's what you do in New York if you want to clear a dance floor!



Then you need people, so we got some people. Anthony Hecht (the one that's alive and wonderful) came from Seattle. Frida Berrigan came from Red Hook. But really, both of them came from Baltimore, the home of all truly good things. It's really special to see old old old friends... especially the really good ones...



Then you need some dance moves. Luckily, Andy Hong came and brought a bunch.



As did Vanessa, Susan's old roomie from Boston. Vanessa is a rock star. Also she has beer, as you can see. Beer is a good thing for a party.



By the end of the night, which is to say the early morning, both Susan and Kitty (Hello Kitty) had had a good 30th birthday, full of food, dancing, beer, and friends... so we called the party a success.


And went to bed.

Insufficient Postage....

I'm not posting cause I'm loosing my mind!


Between two readings this week, my insanely overwhelmingly crazy busy job, the revisions needing to be done of the Half/Life Proposal and my mother coming to town this week, I have no time for posting.


The quick update?


Kareem is still alive! I know... I know... we can't believe it either. She's weirdly shaped and leaking, but still wagging her tail and chowing down. The Lord works in mysterious (albeit leaky ways).


And also, GO VOTE!

Snappy in the apple...

Hey everyone! New York is fabulous. I wish you were here.


Susan's birthday dance-party bash was superfly, even tho we had food from a Dominican place around the corner cause I was too lazy to cook. But all kinds of folks came from Alaska and Boston and Seattle to "drop it like it's hot."

Hot it was, indeed!


So hot that JIM BEHRLE! came all the way up8 kazillion blocks to have a beverage and sit on the floor in the hall with me. Which was really cool of him.


In other news, New York is still standing, and people are still speaking many languages, and wearing exotic shoes. Fruit stands are still selling fruit and homeless dudes are still asking for money.


And tonight I'll go to dinner downtown with Anthony and Liz, to celebrate Liz's birthday. Fun!


It's nice, seeing the people you never get to see.


And New York... well, New York is always the best city in the world. It really really is.


Not where I need to be right now in my life... and I love love love my little house and my dirty dirty Souf. It's what I want.


But oh, New York me good.

The incredible song-poet, Pieta Brown...

WOW!


So, last night Chris and I went to go see our friends Pieta and Bo... who were playing music at a swank little folk club here in Decatur, GA.


There's a loooong story I ain't gonna tell. But the skinny is that Pieta is a good friend of mine from Iowa, and Bo is becoming a good friend as we get to know him. Bo is also, incidentally, a guitar legend, and a monster producer. But that's not really the Bo we know.


In Iowa, where everyone we knew was a musician, we used to see Bo and Pieta play periodically, and they were great, and of course we loved them. But I mostly thought of them as friends.


Seeing them play here, in another context, for a roomful of strangers, was altogether different. Truly, they made Magic.


They were FABULOUS! I can't say enough. Pieta is something eerie and sexy and bluesy and honest and rural and gritty and shivery all rolled into one. Her voice is somehow strong and big, with a little girl, a hooker, and a bird buried inside it. I was mesmerized, and so proud of her.


A few years ago she was a writer, a poet in New York like everyone. And then one day she moved to Tucson. While she was there she thought maybe she'd try putting some of her poems to music... and she found her place in the universe!


The she moved back to Iowa and "faced the music." She bought a trailer and hunkered down to practice guitar (which she had just started to learn) nonstop, and to write. She also (brazenly and bravely) manged to not give in to fear or doubt. She asked for the things she needed. She made a little record and released it on a small Iowa label.


A lot of people in Iowa are snarky, because Pieta's dad is a respected musician, which gave her a little leverage. And Iowa City is a small town full of musicians who resent the success of talented girls who swoop in and do well. But it was where she needed to be, and she found it inside herself to ignore the smallness of it. She took the good and left the bad on the gravel road.


And she went out and made magic happen, despite the stumbling blocks and snarky meanies and small town and hard nights and twists and turns.


Which is a lesson to us all... to be always searching and climbing and growing. To be forever re-examining ourselves. To be willing to consider that perhaps there are other paths than the paths we've already chosen. To be honest and unafraid to do things that are hard and new.


And to those of you who've read this entire post... if she comes to your town, go see her. Or go out and buy one of her records. You really won't be sorry!

Done with the Codeine...

And now I'm getting ready to storm the City that Never Sleeps!!! I won't be drinking super-hard or sucking down pots of coffee anytime soon, but I won't let that stop me from celebrating SUSAN's BIRTHDAY!


For those of you not in the know, Susan is my best friend, and the coolest lady in the world. She's a break-dancing, kung-fu-fighting, sacred-tattoo-wearing, med-school-going, do-gooding, joke-telling, comic-book-reading WOMAN, and I love her.


I'll be in town a short three day stint, and I can't wait. Work has been really hard lately for many reasons, and this sickness, and the ongoing struggle over the Kareem stuff has had me over a barrel. So I can't possible tell you how excited I am to be away away away...


And it's New York. No place else comes even close to New York.


Hurrah!

Red Sox & Pink Elephants...

So, I became a Red Sox fan last night. Thanks to extra innings and a nice cocktail of Dilaudid, Codeine, Muscle Relaxants, and chicken broth. It was a magical evening. I should have gone to the doctor sooner. God bless Ortiz and Dr. Upshaw both.


Then, this morning, I struggled from my drugged out haze to discover that a plane had crashed into Atlanta. What??!! Right along my usual commute.


So I'm going back to bed. The Dilaudid has worn off, but I've got me a box full of goodies and plenty of Jello too!

There's a big difference...

Between dead and dying. And another leap from very sick to dying...


I haven't wanted to post about Kareem, but some of you seem to be following this...


She is very sick, and we are in that place of letting go, while having a little hope. We've brought her home to stay until she appears to be in pain, or she can't breathe or won't eat.


Despite her funny beach-ball appearance, she's alert and happy, tail-waggin and cat-chasin, and happy for all kinds of yummy tidbits. We're keeping up with her vitamins and meds, but the chances get slimmer as she gets fatter. Chris has taken to callin her, "Cow-Dog."


The vet suggested we put her down two days ago, because "at this point it's really just a matter of time." But when I asked if she was in pain, he responded, "No, but she will be at some point."


Um. Yeah. So will everyone. That's life.


And however short it may be, I plan on spoiling her for it... feeding her chicken and bacon and cuddling her nonstop for a few days, so that in her short sad life she gets a little comfort.


Maybe I'm dumb, but this way I'll be better about letting go I think.

Poetry with a bullwhip...

I have a new poem, a sestina ready to rumble, up at VS.


So bring it on, beeyotch!


(Actually, don't, because I'm sick abed with Gastritis. Ew.)


So bring it on in a few days, when I can whup yer ass...

And...

Life, the amazing thing, is that we are all not always breaking apart...

Dear Josh Corey...

I think it is high time that the Auberginians met met to organize the first Conference of the Aubergine.


I hereby nominate Tony Robinson to cook Aubergine flowers and the like, to feed the multitudinous (?) crowd of collected Auberginians.

I hereby nominate you, Josh Corey, King of the Auberginians, with all the rights thereof.


I hereby volunteer to make the nametags and set the tables with purple swaths and such... also, I will also happily oversee the children's division. So that younger generations will be swayed to our cause...


I'm serious, man.


xoLaurel

On taping poems to walls...

Eduardo is taping poems to his walls, and it made me think of the time I did that... at the end of my 2nd year of the MFA program.


It was the first time I'd ever tried to think of my poems as a "body" and I couldn't decide how to organize them into a manuscript. So there they were, at eye level, all over the house, like a gallery show. And I'd switch them with each other, take them down, scribble changes.


One night, my friend Dustin brought his hot roommate (whom I'd never met) to my house unexpectedly, to see if I wanted to go shoot pool. And I was confused, embarassed to have this attractive stranger see my ego, and also my many neuroses, splashed accross my walls.


I escaped to the bathroom to brush my hair, and ran out the door with them, to go to the Deadwood for beers and billiards. Came home tipsy and fell asleep.


When I woke up the next day I noticed that my poems had been attacked with a highligter in a strange hand.


One poem shouted in neon yellow, "I like this one."


Another screamed, "Huh. Don't get it."


Etc.


How would you feel if a stranger looked past your ego, read your work, and cared enough to comment?


How would you feel if someone vandalized your "first book?"


Considering both of those questions, how would you react? What would you do?


Two weeks later I was sitting on a park bench with the vandal, talking about Another Republic, and Creeley.


And five years later, I married him in Vegas!


Cause, Hey! It's not easy to find a good reader...


(And Eduardo, I wish you the same from your poem-taping... especially since I remember that you think my vandal is a hottie. Me-OW!)

In Tony's Comment Boxes...

I want to clarify a little...


I think we need to pay some attention to words like "some" and "most" .


I know that I, for myself, say that I "don't read" because I'm a little embarassed about what I do read, and about how often I return to things that aren't new for me. I sometimes feel like I'm supposed to be doing daily excursions into new work, work that challenges me, and often I'm not up to that.


Like, I read Jordan's "Just received" list online and think... "Good God! How will he read all of those books?"


I would say that every year I read somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 new books (new to me) of poetry.


And what I read I read over and over, becasue for me, it takes awhile to absorb it. And then I read a ton of online journals, and I re-read a ton of old favorites.


But when people ask me if I "read much poetry" I say no....


Becasue there's so much I don't read, and I don't want to get trapped in a conversation, and not be able to hold up my end.

Dude! Holy shite!!!

Sarah Bynum is nominated for a National Book Award!!!



As for the poets, I like Cole and Carl too much (as people) to think about this fairly...



And I'm sad Don Justice died. So I vote for Justice, however unpopular my vote may be...

Who reads poetry???

Anthony Robinson has a good post today, in response to the fabulous interview-blog, Here Comes Everybody... Anthony asks, "Who reads poetry?" An interesting question.


It's interesting, because i've always assumed I was the only poet who read more fiction than poetry. At Iowa, it was the dirty secret I was trying to keep hidden. Like, I went home at night and ate novels voraciously , but then arranged slim poetry books on my coffee table.


Today's interviewee, Lisa Jarnot (whose blog I'd read more often if she'd leave Angelfire, becasue I hate the popups), says "I read a lot of poetry when I was learning to be a poet."


Huh!


I never thought about it like that, as though poetry is something you might read as a handbook, in the early stages of learning to write, and therefor something you return to when you feel ready to learn more...


Which makes it different from other reading.


I read poetry in much the way Lisa does (or at least describes). I read the poetry I already love. So I return to the poetry I loved in college, Salamun, Holub, Ritsos, Bishop, Wright. And with other stuff, I speed-read it.


Also, I read poetry when I'm blue, and when I've attended a really good reading, which kind of challenges me to read more. And I read online, magazines and blogs. And I read the poetry of people I know, first books by my friends.


But now I'm wondering how we can be bothered that nobody buys poetry, if we aren't reading it ourselves, the way we read fiction???

It has been suggested...

That I may have some "issues"...


That it is not "normal" to fixate on an "animal" thusly...


That Kareem "Bling -Bling" Snyder is not worth 6K when my car is worth 3K...


That I am, perhaps, transferring...


That, perhapss, this is not what is meant by a rainy day, when one is saving for a rainy day...


Readers, am I nuts?

A gift for Kareem "Bling-Bling" Snyder...

From Anthony "Slapnose" Hecht...


AKA... the best!

Kareem "Bling-Bling" Snyder...

AKA Skeletor...


Appears now to have a liver abscess. Ew...


Hence the beach-ball shaped belly...


Dear God, what do I do? I'm out of funds and into credit cards...

We were thinking...

Of changing Kareem's name to "Bling-Bling" as she is now a five-thousand-dollar dog! Also she is phat, or rather she is fat. Or rather... she is terribly bloated and looks as though she ate a beach ball. I squeeze, burp and pat her to no avail. The Malox Max isn't working... any brilliant ideas?


In other news, I finally joined AWP, so that I can get a dossier in which to store letters of rec. Want to write me one?


In still other news, people are turning in fabulous essay plans for the book! Humorous Holocaust Stories! Lesbian Parallels! "Dress British but think Yiddish!" I cannot wait! Now to find a press for this puppy...


Which is less full of hot air than some other puppies I could name!

Here Comes Everybody...

If you don't read Here Comes Everybody, you're missing something good.


There's something wanderful in the samesness of the interviews... like, since the questions don't vary, the answers seem somehow more personal, human, particular. And even the occasional sameness of the answers provides something more... more community, more context, lends universality to the big question of "Why do we write."


I love it.


Today, I'm especially effusive because Aaron Belz , in his HCO interview, claims as his first-poem-love-experience... The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.


Me too!


I fell in love with it too. In 11th grade too, when I heard an amazing speech-and-debate guy (from Loyola High School in Baltimore, if I remember correctly) recite it. He was fabulous! I remember my mouth watering when he dared/did not "dare to eat a peach."


I can't say it was the first poem I loved, as I was, myself, reciting Plath's "Daddy." Which I loved. "The boot in the face."


But to love Plath at 16, when you also listen to Leonard Cohen and wear black tights under everything, is one thing. It's expected of an angsty teen. Like vodka and clove cigarettes. And you eventually outgrow most of it.


But to run home from a debate tournament and spend your Saturday afternoon reading an old copy of the 4 Quartets is something else. It's not the action of the average goth girl. rather, it's something you do if you're a poet.


And the lightning bolt of love was not unlike the experience of Mr. Belz. It was that same quality of being "an invitation to go somewhere foggy and to have random associative memories there."


It was a permission... of a sort.


Oh nevermind me... just go read the damn interview! I'm off to the Wasteland myself...

Derri-dead...

I just heard that Jacque Derrida has passed away and is now deconstructing himself... or being deconstructed by other higher powers.


I feel bad for several reasons...


First, because I was shocked to learn he was alive until he died. I suppose I assumed he was long dead. Why? I'm not sure. I think I generally assume that anyone whose texts are read so widely by undergraduate philosophy majors is already loong down the path of the DoDo.


Two, because Derrida had a hand in my mental-poetry-mess in college. Not his fault, I know, but... if not for him I might have suffered less at the hands of those undergrad philosophers... with their clunky understandings, poor applications of theory, and 19 year old mean streaks.


If not for him I might have been something beyond, "The last modernist" when I was in college. I had what my friends called a "beauty hangup."


I am, after all, religious.


And third, I feel bad that I've never really read him. Rather I've read enough of him to refute oncomers with a mix of academic jargon and defensive logic. So here is my prayer, my confession, and my promise to Jacque.


I will read you now. Tonight I'll start. I'm sorry you're dead. I'm sorry it was cancer. I hope that Josh Corey and my cousin Tim and Maria and that guy from the Atlanta Poetry Group will forgive me for making a pun from your demise.


But it seemed fitting!

How do people...

Get academic "letters of rec" once they're looong gone from Grad School? You can't go harasshing teachers you haven't seen in 10 years, can you? Can you get letters from peers, friends in the field? What if your profs are sick or dead? That must happen sometimes? What if your profs have simply forgotten you, in the muddle of all the students since you?


Help?

Two happy things...

1. New blog at 32 poems! (Thank you, Katey) I find that I like Verse and 32 poems suddenly, way more than I used to, and way more than other mags... becasue they've added blogs. Becasue I truly feel that blog land operates the way magazines and MFA programs should operate.


2. We have a HAPPY STOOL! Hurrah (I'll spare you the pictures)


In other news... I have resurrected my kid's novel ,"Up and Down the Scratchy Mountains, the Search for a Suitable Princess,"and am attempting some revisions.


I need a reader... anyone want to help me revise a kid's novel? Anyone want to publish it? Various massive imprints say it's "too smart." I gotta dumb it down... Ugh!

Dare I???

I'm not sure...


What do you think?

I stole this...

From the amazing Anthony Hecht...


"The Vice President revisits his plan to block out the sun, while John Edwards prays for a hamburger with extra cheese."



But first he stole it from this guy...


And also, if you haven't seen the George Bush debate notes, you really really really need to go HERE. Really!

Speaking of puppies...

I was just looking around Stacy's site and found this, a picture from last summer, me in Italy... with the dog who lived in the house where we stayed for a week, just outside San Gimigniano...









Oh to be in Tuscany...

Look who came home...

KAREEM!!!

Versus me this...

Yeah, so last night I sent a poem to VS. as I said I would, despite the pregnancy test swinging sign. And they took it in 10 minutes! A sestina! Woo HOO! And asked me to DEBATE...


And also, Tobias Wolff says he might be up for a Half/Life reprint, though not an essay...


And BUST editor Deb Stoller, and Anthony Hecht (but another Anthony Hecht), and Aaron Becker, and Daphne Gotlieb, and Rebecca Walker, and Dan Beachy Quick, and Lee Klein, and Thisbe Nissen are joining me, and a slew of other people too, people who don't have websites, in writing about their Half/Lives.


And Kareem is done being "neurologic" and can come home tomorrow if she has a happy stool!


Ew.


A sestina!


A happy stool!


(see above)


Now, how do I go about actually selling this book, since I've signed on all these fabulous folks? I guess we'll just see.

Mad props to...

Reb... on the vs. poem. I'll take her to Red Lobster.


I'd like to submit something myself, think it's a fab mag and idea, but I'm mildly bewildered by the guidelines.


It says to submit when the OPEN sig is flashing.


The OPEN sign is not flashing. It is, however, swinging.


This reminds me of pregnancy test instructions. Why not an OPEN sign and a CLOSED sign? Why make it swing?


Today, the world is an utter mystery.

No more....

Anything. No more of this... Can't take it.


Kareem has had no more seizures, though she is what they keep calling "neurologic" which is, I think, weird, a weird word. She is on iv liquids but the watery ick will not leave her poor little body.


I am currently smoking the house out with candles. Burning paper, trying to make the sick go away.


Spent this morning and afternoon in a series of Sukkahs.


I will now eat a salad and work on my sestina. I'm tired.

Awful Kareem update...

Okay. Forgive any misytping. Lack of sleep.


We noticed she wasn't feeling well yesterday, by which I mean we kept cleaning up the more horrible mess in the world. But we called the vet hospital and they said to just withhold food.


"We're already doing that!" we said.


So we tried to take her to another vet. They told us to withhold food.


"But she's abaolutely empty and still!" we cried.


No dice. They were too busy to see her.


So around 10:30, as I was making a birthday car for my mom, Kareem started to get odder, if less drippy. She just walked and walked and walked the perimeter of the rroom, bumping her head into the wall each time she finished a length of wall.


We call the hospital. Tired of hering my voice (I think) they told us to call another vet.


We did. They said to come in. We did.


Ten minutes later, the convulsive vomiting began all over me andd the new Volvo.


When we got to the vets office, Kareem began to drip from the back end.


Time passed, awfully and stinkily. Slowly.


Eventually, the vet told us she thought it was botulism. We signed papers, handed over more money, left Kareem, came home.


I went to bed at 2 and the phone rang at 4. It was the vet, calling to say it didn't look good.


The phone rang again at 8. A seizure. Slower dripping. Slower hearthrate. "She's holding her own."


In my sleep deprived state I feel mad... at the previous "Owners" and the vets who ignored me. At myself for letting it get so bad.


Poor Kareem. Poor poor Kareem.


Why is it easier for me to pray, really pray, for animalss?


If you're a praying person, say a little prayer?

It Pays to Read the Fine Print...

Oh man, have you guys seen this... usually I hate forwards, but this is funny stuff.



And true. Our president really is an idiot.


And also, what does it mean when someone googles your (unpublished) manuscript title? Can I copyright it somehow?

Precisely seven bouts...

Of explosive ickiness later...


Kareem is resting and I'm about to vomit.


She's on a diet of cool (but not cold) boiled chicken, plain rice, and Pepto.


Which is the most cooking I've done in months.


Sigh.


In other (more fun) news, Katherine Weber has signed on for Half/Life!


Triple yip!

Please forward/ circulate...

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS!!!


HALF/LIFE: Jew-ish Tales from In-Between


Laurel Snyder (for real, guys... don't laugh) is currently seeking essays for an anthology of writing by half-Jews, semi-shiksas, semitic mongrels, and jewishy-goyishy folks of every flavor.


Or, if you want me to be politically correct about it, I'm looking for "stories from writers who grew up in blended-religious families with one Jewish parent."


If you are one (or more) of the above and interested, please query to sweetlorelei (at) msn (dot) com. Type HALF in the subject of your email and include a writing sample and a brief bio, as well as a short description of your Jew-ish experience.


All styles and lengths accepted, as long as the writing is stellar and the experience/perspective is interesting.


We've got some amazing folks signed on already, so the bar is HIGH but I'm no snob. If you're good, I'll take it.


(And if you know Tobias Woolf, please let him know I need him, eh?)

X RATED: Not for the squeamish...

Seriously, Mom, don't read this post!


And you hardier breeds...Are you ready?


Okay.


We came home from dinner tonight (which was, in an unrelated story, delish) to find Dave nervous, Kareem tired, and a strange (unidentifiable) smell in the house. What is it that so terrifies me about the unidentifiable? I figure that if I, in my 30 years of existance, don't know a smell...


We went into the kitchen to find something horrible and bloody. The worst part? Totally unidentifiable. We had no idea which end it had come from.


Blood and pine needles and brown bits of dirt and goo and a terrible terrible smell.


I, of course, freaked out. But the guy at the vet clinic told me that this could be normal...


Normal?????????? Uh, okay?


He told me to take Kareems temp. So I went off to the grocery store for beer, pine-sol, air freshener, lube, and a thermometer.


Couldn't find the lube.


Came home with the rest and buttered (yes, buttered) up my hand and the thermometer.


101.5, which is normal.


Then I took Kareem out in the yard where she squirted brown water from her tiny sore bottom twice.


I honestly don't know how to feel right now.


Like a mom, I think. There are things I never thought I could do.


Also scared.


Also in need of a shower.

Debate, debate, debate...

Yeah, yeah.... Kerry won and Bush is a moron. So what?


But of all the analyses I've read, Behrle's cartoons beat everything else all hollow.


Shanna, when will Soft Skull publish a book of Jim Sides and other Behrle cartoons?


I'll buy 20 copies and give em to everyone I know. I promise!

Update on the pooch and stuff...

Just wanted you to know that Kareem is doing well, stable...


I bought a Volvo wagon (1993)...


I still haven't gotten J.D. Salinger to submit an essay for Half/Life...


And Eduardo has a really good post up over at Asleep Inside an Old Guitar:


I put the X back in Chicano
Barbara Jane Reyes & Victoria Chang have been talking about jealousy among poets. Am I jealous of other poets? Of course. But I'm not envious of white poets.



I dig the shit out of people saying what they think. Read him!