I missed the boat...

Can someone please explain to me, as though I were a baby...


What is this "FLARF" about which I hear so dang much?


Seriously. Please explain!

Once again, I love Tony...

Tony dreams up all the really good games.


So here's my list of anthologies to which I should be contributing, just in case (and this is a totally realistic thought) anthology editors are reading my blog, just waiting for me to post such a list...


1. Anthology of poems based on Hollywood musicals.
2. Anthology containing Bruce Springsteen lines.
3. Anthology of poems collaged from the pages of PEOPLE magazine.
4. Anthology of poems using fairy-tales.
5. Anthology of poems by Baltimorons.
6. Anthology by poets who like to write about rural life, having never lived it.
7. Anthology of poets NOT living in New York
8. Anthology of Iowa poets who have not "used" their connections wisely.
9. Anthology of poems by epileptics.
10. Anthology of poems by half-Jews (duh).
11. Anthology by writers in the South who don't happen to be Faulkner or O'Connor.
12. Anthology of writers who used to be really political but have sold out and gotten alarm systems, though they feel constantly guilty about it.
13. Anthology by people with brain tumors (Yes, it's true).
14. Anthology by women who want to have babies, but not yet.
15. Anthology by poets in search of a new mythology.


And you? What anthology do you belong in?

Lord, Oh Lordy...

What on earth was I thinking? Something about the holidays... forces me to the movies. Bad movies. Really bad movies...


You wouldn't think a person could watch BOTH Alexander and Bridget Jones 2 without throwing up...


And yet I did it.


Alexander was the single worst movie I've ever paid to see and sat through. Not as bad as Gods and Generals, but with that one I had the sense to storm out. For some reason I watched all of Alexander. Praps in hope of the hot guy-on-guy action that was sure to come...


But didn't. Sigh.


Eunuchs, leather clothes, "exotic dancers" of both sexes. Booze everywhere and smooth smooth smooth shaven boys. Pendulous breasts and everyone "goin native" without getting any. Not any.


It made no sense. Not the accents or the casting or the wardrobe or any of it.


BJ 2 was not quite as bad, in that I didn't expect it to be any good. But still it sucked. Somehow Renne Z managed to smuggle massive quanities of drugs and land in a Thai prison where all the hookers spoke English. Whatev.

The Thanksgiving Song

Some of you may recall being offended by my Fourth of July Song, "Happy Happy Firecracker" last year. Some of you may have even seen the dance that goes with it.


Now, in the same fine tradition, I bring you another kid's song. Words and melody (though not terribly original) brought to you by me, Laurel Snyder.


I get all the hatemail.


And if anyone out there owns a kid's music company and wants to produce me, I have a ton of material. Snicker...


********************


The Thanksgiving song

G D C
The pilgrims sat down with their friends, who were red
G D C
And painted with feathers all stuck to their heads.
G D C
The redskins brought turkey and yellow corn bread
G D G
But in a few years all the redskins were dead.


G D G
O— in a few years all the redskins were dead!


The pilgrims wore hats with big buckles and boots
And they taught all the Injuns to buckle and shoot.
See, the Injuns were shootless and bootless, in huts.
But they learned about boots when the boots kicked their butts.


Yes— they learned about boots when the boots kicked their butts!


But hey, it’s Thanksgiving, November and cold.
And Grandma’s made pies and a green Jell-O mold.
So we’ll fight with our mothers til somebody cries
While we gnaw on a bird too stupid to fly.


O—we’ll gnaw on a bird too stupid to fly!


So here’s to Thanksgiving, and redskins and stuffing.
And here’s to our country, since there’s almost nothing.
A person can do ‘bout the sick voting skams
I’ll deal with tomorrow, now pass me some yams.


O— Lord help this nation, now pass me some yams!

The East Atlanta Kids Club...

Last night, we went to see a movie at the Earl (one of our fave ATL rock venue/bars) conceived, filmed, and produced entirely by a group of 25 kids (ages 7-12) that all participate in a wonderful non-profit called the East Atlanta Kids Club. The event was a fundraiser for the kids.


The movie, "East Atlanta: Going Through Some Changes" included inverviews with long-time residents, old photos, interviews with new residents, etc. It was moving, complex, funny, true. It addressed tax hikes, drug deals, diversity, race relations, etc.


I left feeling that I should volunteer to lead a poetry workshop there. I also left wanting to send a copy of the film to everyone I know, to help them understand how complicated this place is. Most of all, I left proud of my community, happy I've landed exactly where I've landed.


Kids are awesome!

Lets get it started...

Okay... so there's this new online poetry mag called VS. And the premise is that we'll all do poetical battle via the site, but so far, aint much of nobody kicking much of anybody's ass. So let's get a move on.


The PUGILISM SECTION is right here!


And I willingly offer myself up for a pummeling. Bring on the challenge, and I promise to fight back. I'll even give you a few clues to what makes me suck:


I like to use the word "retarded" in conversations.


I live in a red state.


Despite being Jewish, I love sacred Catholic art.


I have new poems coming out in the Iowa Review.


Come on now, kids... won't someone take a swing?


Nester? Shanna? Someone?

How do YOU write fiction?

Lately, I'm reading novels. I'm reading (and re-reading) kids novels. But also grownup ones. I'm trying to figure out how they do it, the novelists...


See, a few years back, I was lucky enough to have a one-year fellowship for poetry. And while I wrote poems that year, I also used the time to (watch Rikki Lake, learn to line-dance, drink too much, and) write a novel for children.


Now it seems I have found a home for my novel, a press willing to venture out on a limb with me, but there is much much much work to be done. Work I've never done before. And with the upcoming winter holiday, I need to get cracking while I can!


So today I am inside, cuddled against the rain, reading Empire Falls. I am trying to figure out one big thing: how to make the tension... how to bring the tension to a point... how to make the reader care what happens.


Any ideas?

Shabbat Shalom Everybody!!!

I'm really feeling the Jewishy part this week, because I allowed myself to take time out twice for Lunch & Learns... with two very different rabbis. Tonight I'll be feeding Shabbat dinner to the students at Georgia Tech, and that's nice too.


It's quite something to have a rabbi always available. In particular, Rabbi Golding really helped me this week, with some questions I had about how Jewish law sees our obligation to the animals in our world. I wish I could share this with eveyone, but I'm afraid I'd do a poor job of explaining what he so wisely helped me understand and internalize.


Suffice it to say, I'm feeling much better about the dogs in my neighborhood. Suffice it to say, Judaism is pretty great. Makes sense.


Today, I fed some turkey to the dog behind the fence. Then I came inside.

Pushcart it up! Weee-Hoooo!

Yay Tony! Yay Katey!


And a much belated YAY SHANNA!!!!


(I'm in a self-absorbed overworked muddle this week and apologize for the YAY-debts owed. I been thinkin em. I promise!)


All a y'all got a home cooked dinner and a few drinks owed to you. Come to Atlanta!

More tunes than in moons...

For the first time in forev, I've been busy with music. John Fogerty at the Tabernacle last weekend, and then the Gourds (the BEST!) two nights ago at Smiths, and now tonight we're going to see a local guy, Jeff Gardner, at a small club. And later this week is Robert Earle Keene at the Variety, and then Susan and Emma and Hen arrive, and we'll all go do karaoke at the place with the LIVE karaoke band! Music music music.


In other news, I got my 3 letters of rec.


I also watched the Hebrew Hammer with my students, made beef stew, hosted an interfaith Lunch & Learn on "Sarah and Hagar: Women Behaving Badly" which got very heated, wrote some poems, practiced guitar, walked the dog, etc. etc. etc.

Dear God...

I mean, "Dear Dog!"


I have found another one. In the streets of East Lake Terrace. Crawling with fleas, visibly overrun with crawlies. If the world were an ocean, this dog would be the life raft for all the hopping biting itching critters.


But otherwise sweet as pie and very healthy. A kind of whitish greyish brindle dog, with a houndy face and white paws. He wants love. So good, this one!


Want him?


I'm waiting for animal control to show up right now, but if they can't find his home and nobody wants him, I'll get him back and give him to you!


After the Kareem months, we aren't ready to save them all. But I won't let em die either.

On Arafat...

I've gotten a few emails about my earlier statement.


Briefly, I need to clarify. And explain.


Death is sad. When someone dies, it is not good to feel immediately and fully happy. No matter how much you hated that person. No matter how justified your hatred.


If your only reaction was glee, you need to check the depth of your soul.


I'm a person. I'm a Jew. I'm a progressive.


I think the Palestinian movement should stop blowing peoople up. I think Arafat made some serious mistakes. I think he was a terrorist. I think he was a poor politician.


Does that mean I'm a bad Jew because when I heard that a woman was having to wrestle politicians for the body of her feeble husband, I felt bad for her?


Am I a bad Jew to feel a little nervous knowing that at least we knew where Arafat was, who he was... and we don't know what will happen now?


Am I a bad Jew to feel the same sadness at the loss of a human life that I would feel walking by a dead squirrel?


Am I a bad Jew that I feel sorrow knowing that the young people fighting for a nation, whatever we may feel about that nation, now have no leader, and one more martyr...


I'm not saying you have to feel that way... but if you question my ability to feel sorrow when someone (ANYONE) dies...


Shame On You.

A serious request...

I need three letters of rec. From poets. From good poets who like my poetry and want to say nice things about me.


Seriously.


I set up my little dossier and now it occurs to me that I've kept in touch with none of my profs.


What do I do? I don't think Jorie Graham remembers who I am...


And if she does...


Oh shit!


Anyone with a book out and access to letterhead want to help?

May you live in interesting times...

Arafat is dead. Death is sad. Nobody knows what will happen.


Last night I went to hear Ken Stein, one of Jimmy Carter's dudes, speak on the middle east. He was very interesting.


Then I went to Intermezzo for old fashioneds and conversation. Lovely.


Now I'm allowing myself the indulgence of google-play and poetry fun for a morning. No housecleaning. No opening my work email. Just words. Words. Yay, words! Here's a new poem:


“Tomaz Salamun is”
—For Google and Tomaz


Tomaz Salamun is a leading
figure in “Tomaz Salamun”

Tomaz Salamun is the author
Tomaz Salamun is a sphere

Tomas Salamun is a sphere
Rushing, is one—

Tomaz Salamun is perhaps
—a widely translated monster

Tomaz Salamun is not
Tomaz Salamun

Tomaz Salamun is Central Europe
Tomaz Salamun is an apt metaphor

Tomaz Salamun is eregast
Tomaz Salamun is een

Tomaz Salamun is one of the most stunning
Tomaz Salamun is even

Tomaz Salamun is a widely
Translated Tomaz Salamun

Tomaz Salamun is to understand
Tomaz Salam is a poet

Tomaz Salamun is a world
Tomaz Salamun is, truly

Who did this???

Who sent me the beautiful flowered silk kimono with no note???

Sorry Everybody...

Have you sent a picture to this site?

Google me good...

Now, people end up at Jewishyirishy by googling all manner of things. The 5 most common, on average include "obscene photos" & "what do the simple folk do" & "laurel snyder" & "jewishy" & "irishy" which are all pretty not-surprising. From time to time I get a really weird one, but I can always figure out how the search brought them to me... Today?


"website where i can download the WHOLE jay-z black album"


Someone landed in the wrong time zone! Must have been disappointed when they arrived.


But I can't help wondering what they hoped to acheive with the capitalization of WHOLE...

Why should gay people care to marry???

Because sometimes, when you're married, you come home from the daily grind to discover...


Upon your desk a pair of....


Tickets to go and see...


John Fogarty (see above picture) !!!


So no bloggity tonight. I'm off to the music. I plan to choogle all night long.


Have you ever seen the rain? Who'll stop the rain?


Yes! Me!


(Oh yeah, and also I just found out I have two poems forthcoming in a certain Midwestern University Lit Mag. Yup. That one.)

Corey beat me to the punch...

Man! I can't believe I haven't done this yet... and that I let Josh beat me to it.


My fabulous (and I do mean FABULOUS) friend Sandra Miller has a new and beautiful magazine out, based right in lil ol Ioway Citay. Sigh.


1913 is visually incredible, smart, edgy, but oh how it flows...


Unlikely to publish narrative little me... but not unlikely to be enjoyable to narrative little me.


Sandra and I agree that "narrative" needs a new definition altogether.


I miss her, and talking poetry with her at Georges Buffet over cocktails of a Sunday night.


Sigh...

Tiger Woods in East Lake...

So, there's a golf thing happening here in the 'hood this week. Which means that swarms of middle aged white people in polo shirts and deck shoes have descended on our peaceful little world. Yesterday I gave a ride to a few of the, who stumbled upon me as I was lunching with Laurie at the Universal Joint.


"Can you point us towards the MARTA Station?" asked an older gentleman in a gentlemanly fashion...


After I recovered from the shock of seeing a woman in Oakhurst Village with a sweater tied around her neck, as if for a jaunt in Martha's Vinyard, I replied.


"Um, yeah... but it's at least a mile."


"Oh dear, then we must have turned the wrong way somewhere. I think we're in the wrong place..."


I'll say.


So I deposited the nice folks, transplants from Kansas City, safely at the station and drove off...


Feeling like a local.


Until today, when I was asked myself, at the corner store, if I was enjoying the golf.


Ugh!

An obit to fit...

When our friend Bo heard about the sad demise of Bling Bling the Cowdog (aka Kareem) he said...


"Well, she's Muddy Water's dog now."


And you know... she is!


"We miss you baby-girl..."

You've come a long way, slavey...

Funny that I just moved to Georgia. It's a peach!


So, which train are you catching North? Not sure?


Check out what Slapnose is doing...


Intuitively, I guess I knew this to be true, but it's always shocking to have your stereotypes reinforced...


On a happy note...


Yesterday, I showed a film at Georgia State... the first in our "Jewish Arts and Culture Series" as well as the first large program Hillel has ever done there, to my knowledge.


Amazing documentary about a group of juvenile delinquents in Israel... dealing with their own homophobia and violence, then finding inner resources, creative spirit and love. Edgy and dark and profane, but also really affirmative. And with political substance, and an honest look at conflict... beyond THE conflict.


Sometimes we forget Israel is a coutry, with poverty, drugs, rape, turmoil. We forget that the people who live there, when they take a breath from THE conflict... still have to deal with the rest of the shit life throws them.


It was good in general, good for campus, and good for me, because it reminded me that my job matters, and that it can be rewarding. That I'm still over on the good side, fighting for the good side.


The flick is called "It Kinda Scares Me" and the filmmaker (who came to campus) is an Israeli named Tomer Heymann. Check it out!

Speaking of Weimar...

I've been thinking, and talking to other writers... and I think it's time the Avengers put on their costumes, Jimmy...


All humor aside... what can "progressives" do now? What can we do as writers?


We can either join the herd of docile cows, or we can jump off the cliff and become "radicals."


What's the difference between "progressives" and "radicals"?


Well... progressives wear T shirts about protecting trees, and Radicals climb up in trees.


Progressive writers write essays about everything BUT politics, but then they go to dinner parties where they talk politics. Radical writers write things about politics, start magazines that might get banned or censored, distribute information at a cost.


Oh yeah, and they get arrested.


FOR REAL!


When I was in college, for a brief while, I dated a guy named jon johnson, who spelled his name thusly because he didn't believe in "capitalism." He was an amazing person (still is) and I learned a lot from him. For the most part, he was a radical. He got arrested putting super glue in the locks of nuclear plants, spiked trees, etc. He was all earthfirst, ruckus society, etc. He lived in the woods, in a "community" and he was shaggy and flannel and fun.


But a few months back he got arrested again, at the RNC, and to everyone's shock, this arrest was different. He was looking at serious jail time and massive fines.


What happened? The community pulled together and raised thousands to help him. Good!


But it makes me think now...


Back to all my years of demos and marches, which I was raised doing, by my Socialist papa.


Honestly, it has never occurred to me, as I've risked arrest, that I was facing serious time in prison. Becasue in that world, the world I grew up in, I wasn't.


The difference is, now I am.


In this world, the world of super-Christian government and Patriot Acts, it means something else to march, to write risky words, to profane the system. And the people who used to be "progressive" are going to have to ask themselves what they're willing to risk...


Their sushi? Their neighborhood-relations. The support of their families? Their fellowships? Their grades?


It IS Berlin all over again... and those of us who don't write about it, talk about it, resist it openly... are joining the herd.


Not a herd I'm willing to join.


Time to go write some things. Time to regroup.

Maybe now...

We can just blow up everything and start over.


I feel really deflated. Before, I thought that voter turnout and social apathy were to blame. Now I know that America is just very very very stupid, and bigoted. Today I hate America. I truly do. I can't understand how thinking people could vote for that insanely small minded automaton. And I can't believe I live in a state where such an overwhelming majority of people give a shite who other people choose to marry...


Before the world ended, I spent last night reading at Criminal Records with the incomparable Jamie Allen, who has written an amazing story in which the President turns out to be a wooden dummy. Moving and funny and scary. Jamie is a genius.


And now? Who knows... but it won't be pretty, except in that way Berlin was pretty in the thirties.


Weimar it up, motherfucker. Here comes America.

Oh lordy...

What country are you moving to?

Lesser of two weevils...

Okay, so I voted... and I voted the straight Dem ticket, so color me blue. Except for one race.


In Georgia, the Democrat for Congress right now (Cynthia McKinney) is an out-and-out anti-Semite, and I could not bring myself to vote for a Republican. I couldn't figger out the lesser of the two weevils.


So I did my first-ever write-in. I voted for me, Laurel R. Snyder!


I know I know... I'm a chicken, and the vote didn't count. But still, it was kinda fun.


And also, just in case you haven't heard... exit polls in Ohio and Penn are going Kerry so far. But my step-dad, who is the managing editor for National Journal (so he knows things) says that we can't get too excited, becasue daytime voting skews towards women.


Still....

PS: DID YOU READ the offensive comment my last post got? There are soem crazy fascist motherfluckers in the world. Man o man.

My Poems Online...

(And some nonfiction too)


You will notice that there's now a second blogroll, beneath the usual blogroll...


This is my scribble-roll, full of juicy poems and naughty essays... feel free to peruse!

Up since 4 am...

Can't sleep because there are always all these things to think about.


My mother and stepfather are here, and have been for the weekend. Mom read the Jim and Daphne poems, and LIKED them! That's very good.


Now I need to get back up on that pony. I think it's my first book, given the continuing "finalist" status of the Myth of the Simple Machines. Time to "put it to sleep."


There are sad things (family, dog) and hard things (work, poems) but in the end, I like my life, love my husband, write, and sleep well.


Just not tonight.


PS: I have a new dining room table.