February in Atlanta...

70 degrees... with a 100% chance of daffodils...


And a bar-be-que front moving in fast.


(That's THE SOUTH too, y'all!)

Spring 2006 readings...

Paul beat me to the punch, and so you can get the full story on Meacham from him. But the short version is that it's March 30-April 1.


Come hear me read, and see what happens when a new mom steps up to a podium with a baby hanging from her chest. Will the baby cry? Will the mic squeal? Will the audience be totally charmed by the adorable baby and so not notice that the poet is incredibly nervous? Anything's possible!


A lot is still up in the air for this spring, but some of my dates are gelling. Here's an incomplete list, and I'll update this as we go... but for now:


March 21, Good Day Atlanta (though this is NOT quite a reading), ATL
March 23, Emory University, ATL
March 31-1, Meacham Writers' Conference, Chattanooga
April 8, A Capella Books, ATL
April 17th, UPENN Hillel, Philly
May 4, Prairie Lights (with Margaret Schwartz, Thisbe Nissen, Lee Klein), Iowa City
May 19, Book Expo America (signing), DC
June 22, 92nd St Y (with Jeff Sharlet, Katharine Weber, Rebecca Wolff), NYC
July 7, Collin Kelly's Series, ATL
September 1-3, Decatur Book Festival, ATL


I'm still looking for readings (for Half/Life) in Baltimore, DC, Chicago, Minneapolis, St. Louis, NY (outside Manhattan), Jersey ... basically anywhere close to the readings already in place... where there's a sizeable Jewish community. Schools, Temples, Bookstores, Bars, whatev. PLEASE backchannel if you have a thought!

Up and down...

I put up a new post earlier, and then took it down.


I wanted to say something about the south, after a weekend of some southern experiences I found difficult. But I fear that the post had a rant-like quality, and I know my own ability to go over the top, or misrepresent myself (as in last week's post, which proved a magnet for angry emails).


I don't mind ranting, even when I'm wrong. I generally learn from such experiences. And I'm someone who doesn't mind retracting and apologizing.


But I don't want to get all ranty about race and region. They are serious things, which people take seriously for good reason, to be discussed carefully. I need to do some thinking first, about the south, which I love, and slippery slopes, of which I am mightily afeared.


But I wanted to, as I proceed to think things through, ask you this question...


What do you think of "The South"? Your gut reaction to that phrase... what is it?


Please, tell me the truth.

Speaking of corporate...

Michael Potter is doing this bizarre and cool anthology project, CUBEJOY!


They want your fantasies! They want to see your fantasies and they want you to type your fantasies into their site from work.


Get it? Cube-joy!


What about poet-moms like me, without a workplace server? Maybe I'll swing by Hillel and see if they'll let me use my old desktop!

Some of the best...

Some of the best people are people I know... and they only get better.


Go read what Jeff Sharlet has to say about Brownback.


In other news, the coolest new site is about to hit this 'ol interweb of ours. I have it on good authority that JEWCY will rock your world!!!

The myth and the bizness of art...

I've been dealing with the business side of my writing lately. I've been calculating costs, filing taxes, buying plane tickets. I've been learning something about the art of promotion (thank you Richard and Kristin over at Soft Skull!) I've been submitting OpEds to newspapers and pestering people at blogs and magazines for reviews... and spending dollars and hours at the post office. I've been networking and making lunch appointments and booking readings, all with the sense that I will (most likely) NOT break even on this particular push.


And I'm totally okay with that, as I choose to see all of the work and money and time as an investment in my "career". I want to believe that somewhere down the road, as a teacher, a prosey-writer, a publicist for a publishing house, a non-profiteer, or editor... these efforts will reimburse me in some way.


Not that I write TO make money, but I hope that as I continue to write I MIGHT make some someday. Art lives somewhere in-between... in-between a gamble and a sure thing... in-between a lottery and a trade.


It's just as likely they will NEVER be reimbursed, these costs, but I choose to believe that there's a way, a career, a salary waiting out there for me somewhere. And I have to believe that, because I want to avoid being frustrated at the current lack of cable TV, vacations, dinners-out, new clothes... in my life. I have to accept a certain amount of deprivation, and the wish for stability is a part of that. Not success in the sense of fame, but success in the sense of security. I want to be secure. I want to be paid for my efforts down the road, however minimally.


Now, here comes the rant...


I know a lot of people who DON'T function like me, aren't so climb-y or self-promoting, and that is totally cool. In some ways I wish I were less like this, less interested in success. It certainly seems more "artistic" to do it for the sake of the art alone, to spend my life working as a waitress or ditchdigger or middle-management-person, and making poems and stories and magazines, and blogging on the side. Those people are just fine by me. I have nothing but respect for those who might be considered hobby-artists (though that term might sound icky to some, I mean it simply to say that at the end of the workday, some people still find it in them to write-- evenings and weekends-- for the love of it-- Lord love em).


But besides those folks, the people who make art solely for the love of creation, there are others.


THOSE people. Oy.


I know a lot of people who have career expectations like I do, but without the willingness to treat this like a business. People who expect a reward, who carry around a giant sense of entitlement. They don't want to invest in themselves. They don't feel they should have to put money into their own projects. They truly feel hurt or abandoned by the universe. As though the simple effort of making art, the gift of talent and drive, should entitle them to success and financial security.


"But I wrote a book!" they tell me


"Okay, that's nice, now go write a better one" I want to say.


I want to say, "Grow up!" I want to remind them what it would have cost to go to medical school or law school. I want to suggest to them how many years it takes to climb the corporate ladder or clamber up the ranks of the business world. I also want to ask them why anyone else should really care enough to invest financially in them, if they refuse to invest in themselves.


There's a reason art tends to get separated from a market, and if you don't want to track the market, and make art/ books/ music with mass appeal, you can't be surprised that you have to rely on your own pocketbook. I also want to remind such people that being an artist is something they should feel lucky about, blessed about. Nobody owes you. you owe the universe-- your best work and some patience, in return for the God-given burden of your vocation.


You want to get paid, you need to bust your ass....


And why does this bother me, this problem of "what other people do"? For the most part it doesn't. But such people tend to talk a lot. Such people tend to complain loudly in public places about the successes of others, others whom they feel are less deserving. They begrudge the climbers their success. They say, "Oh he's such an asskisser/ starfucker/ sellout." And they point to the lucky few who fall-- drug addled or computer-illiterate or childlike-- into the accidental arms of success. They say, "Well, he got lucky. Why'd HE get so lucky?"


The answer: Probably HE knew someobody or slept with somebody or was really really attractive, or a total genius. Probably you aren't a genius. Sorry about that. I hate to be the one to tell you. You're smart, but that's it.


There's been a thread at Readerville this week, about whether or not online boards should be used for bragging. Some feel that it's too frustrating to see such things, but to those folks I say, "How many hours did you put in this week? How many agents have you approached? How many times has your novel been revised? How many dollars did you spend on beer that could have been spent on postage? How many failed books are living in your laptop?"


And if you never make it?


If a fairy came down, floated down from the land-of-known-entities, to explain that you'll really never make it... would you still want to write?


Not that I mean to tell anyone how to live, but if the answers to such questions shame you a little, then you need to stop whining. If you haven't put in the hours, the effort, the words, get cracking!


Because all over the world there are people working harder than you (or me).


I was drunk for most of grad school. And looking back, I have NO REASON to complain about the fact that I didn't publish in those years, or the fact that when I did start getting myself organized, my work was nowhere near as far along as it should have been. For every poem I sent out, other people were sending out 10. For every book I read, other people were reading four. Which was fine. I had a great time! But I had no room to complain. That's all I'm saying.


However good your book or record or painting is, it needs to be better. It needs to be better than everyone else's book or record or painting. You don't get "there" because you deserve it. You get "there" because you are the very best and/or you are busting your ass to get that fact noticed.


You have no room to complain.


Sadly, it seems like writers aren't the worst. At least writers don't pretend that their disorganization is somehow part and parcel of their craft, and writers don't smell bad. Yesterday, at the coffeeshop, I got to chatting with two stinky musicians, and they were just losers. (Yeah, I said it!)


Sorry, guys... but however talented you might be, nobody owes anything to people who show up stoned for practice, get drunk before they play, plan things at the last minute, tour around in unreliable vehicles that break down so that gigs get cancelled, forget to pay their phone bills, and neglect to spend the two dollars on a Speed Stick, or at least take a shower. I don't care how long you've been playing, and I'm not interested in reading the review you just got in your local free weekly. And yeah, I know there are people (mostly Ryan Adams) who get away with looking like they're walking disasters, but they're all dating publicists, and they didn't just *happen* to meet an A&R guy at the Waffle House. Those guys are sharper than they look.


Sharper than you, and you need to know it. It takes a lot of planning to look that haphazard. It takes a lot of work to get to that point where you really CAN get drunk on stage and not piss someone off.


And there is someone out there just like you... who is NOT late or stoned or smelly. Most folks will want to talk to THAT guy.


It's a business. You are your own business, and you have one employee. If he forgets to show up to work, and gets high and drunk a lot, and doesn't know how to use a spreadsheet, or check his email, and is generally lazy... what are you gonna do about it? I know what I'd do with that employee. It involves a boot and an ass.


What is a workday? What is art?


We all want it. We all get something that approaches it. From some distance.


Get to work sooner, and move faster, and you'll cover more ground.


In closing I'll say this... you don't just have to be better than me. Or the next guy. You have to be better than Stegner, Berryman, Bishop, Thurber.


To the guys in the coffeeshop! You aren't competing with the other dudes at the open mic night... spilling their beers on their hipster-jeans. You aren't even competing with yourself, as your mom might have told you. You're competing with Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Buddy Holly.



And you have a long way to go. So put down that fatty, yo... and buy a day-planner for God's sake.

The news this week...

I went to see Lynn Hejinian read at Emory and she was WONDERFUL!


My sister has come to stay for a bit, en route from China to who-knows-where.


I painted my study to look like the inside of a pumpkin, moved my desk to the kitchen, and began to set up a "guest room" for Mose's fans and visitors. This means I am probably becoming a grownup. Not sure how I feel about that.


Got a call from "Good Day Atlanta". They want me to be on TV!

Thank you, Ginger!!!

This just in, from a blogger, via the JewishyIrishy comment boxes:


I've been reading up on Judaism, and asked Seth to take me to a Shabbat service, but I'd probably be a lot less interested if the goal were conversion. As an ex-Catholic atheist I'm allergic to forced religion. Thus far, I've gotten a very warm feeling from my explorations, because it's a choice, and because I'm finding it much more amenable to my sense of the world than Christianity ever was.


Exactly! The idea of setting forth a "goal" for our intermarried non-Jewish partners might kill the very organic way our partners often come to love and understand the tradition. The more evangelical we get, the likelier we are to push them away from us. There's a reason that many of them abandoned their own faiiths, you know... I'd like to think we can show them how smart, open, and amazing Judaism is... attractive on many level based in CONTENT!


The night I realized this... was the night my husband handed me my own copy of "As a Driven Leaf" (which I'd never gotten around to reading) and suggested that he really thought I'd like it. The night he tackled Alter's new translation of the Torah I said to myself, "What does it matter if he converts? I'm not Kosher either, by a lot of people's standards." The day he physically held me up, wearing a NYYankees yarmulke, while the Mohel sliced my son in the livingroom... I loved him like never before, and forgave him for that whole Yankees thing.


In other news, SLUT for FAITH has been reprinted for Valentines Day, over at SoMa Review... If you don't know SoMa, you REALLY should...John Spalding is a rockstar.

Tonight...

The part of me that believes in God is praying...


To believe with a slightly larger part of me tomorrow.


xoL

I bit it...

The bullet, that is...


Bought a ridiculous ticket to TX.


I was thinking I'd fly to Dallas and drive, to save some $$$, but with the inevitable cost of fixing the rental car I'd crash, this seemed cheaper. And without the connecting flight, I'll be there much faster and have more time for Margaritas.


See you at AWP! I'm volunteering at the bookfair to allay the high cost of no-longer-being-a-student. Come tap me on the shoulder and say, "Hey!" Or say something else instead. I'm not trying to tell you what to say. I don't do that. Really. You can say whatever you want. I won't judge you or whisper behind your back.


It will be my first night away from Mose. You'll need to hold me.


(Ali... I'm bringing my pillowfighting pants)

Good luck!!!

Today in the NYTimes:

Reform Jews Hope to Unmix Mixed Marriages


...Concerned about what intermarriage is doing to American Judaism, Rabbi Eric H. Yoffie, president of the Union for Reform Judaism, the organization of the country's Reform Jewish congregations, recently called for Reform synagogues to increase their efforts to convert non-Jewish spouses. By welcoming and accepting gentile spouses, Reform congregations have "perhaps sent the message that we do not care if they convert," Rabbi Yoffie said at the union's most recent conference, in November.


"But that is not our message," he said.


What does JewishyIrishy say? JewishyIrishy says that it's a very tricky line, between caring about something, and making a concerted effort to push people with your care. Of COURSE you care, Rabbi, as do I. Of COURSE you'd like to see people converting, see families embracing our wonderful Jewish tradition, and our faith. And I applaud your statement...


But what I've seen has me a little nervous... that "caring" too publicly about conversion might lead us back towards the exclusion of those who choose not to do so.


Look, I would love nothing more than to wake up tomorrow and have my husband say to me, "You know, if we're raising the baby jewish, and you care so strongly about this, I'll convert. To unify the family."


But what if he doesn't? I need to be able to feel good about my family, and my Jewish home. I need to believe that I can raise my son a Jew reagardless of the choice my husband does (or more likely, does not and will enver) make.


And then too, I have to say that I feel strongly about conversion. That I feel strongly it's a spectacular thing for those that feel it. But what about those who don't? What about those who make this choice simply for the sake of ease and comfort, unity. I fear that the combination of "encouraged" conversion, and the trend towards "secular "JUdaism" is a danger of sorts.


I mean, what does it mean to convert if "You don't have to believe in God to be Jewish"?

HEY!!!

...said the lady to the Man...


(by which I mean, I'm having a Girl Power week)


Firstly, I got my copies of Mem 3, which is an awesome magazine of mom-poets, (mom-pets as we sometimes call ourselves) and you should read it! Edited by Jill Stengel, it really is an incredible project...


And speaking of incredible projects and even more incredible ladies, Mipoesieas has an all-gal issue this time around... including audio of each poet reading her work. Tune in to hear me read my poem "Once Was a Mouse."


And in other bookish business, I just got done reading Hillary Carlip's memoir, "Queen of the Oddballs." Hillary has done just about everything you ever wished to do... and when she got done doing all of that, she went on the Gong Show... and when that was over, she told Oprah where she could shove it... and then she did something else, she COINED THE PHRASE "GIRL POWER!" She coined a phrase! I highly suggest you go preorder the book from Amazon. Hillary rocks my pajamas.


And that was me, "coining a phrase." "Hillary rocks my pajamas." You heard it here first.

Blog frequency...

One might think that I'm blogging less because I'm so busy with babykins that I have no time... but if one thought that, one would be wrong. In fact, I do plop down at the laptop now and again, but I'm still blogging less...


... because the events in my life are, I assume, boring to the outside world. I'm not having wonderful fun in cool spots with whiskeys and scintilating conversation. I'm not writing much, or sending out things and getting back rejections and acceptances... or reading heavy books, or flirting online...


You might be curious about what I'm doing instead...


I'm cooing and oohing at the babykins, for hours a day, and having a heck of a time putting him down and letting him cry. I just can't do it, set him in the crib and turn the monitor off... So it's not that I'm not here at the computer, but that I'm not "here" at the computer... or "here" anywhere else.


And to write about what I'm doing when I'm away from the computer would be damn dull... and include intense tales of gymanees, bjorns, breastpumps and reruns of Roseann. You don't want to hear about that, do you?


If it's any consolation I'm also not cleaning my house, cooking, visiting with friends. Nope. Just me and babykins, gurgling our days away.


Though I am writing picture books. Lots of picture books, which I may or may not ever be able to sell... and I am reorganizing the second manuscript of poems, "The Truth & Other Stories." And I am trying to book some readings for this spring, and dig up reviews for "Half/Life". But again, the descriptions of such pursuits would be damn dull.


So forgive me? I'm allowed a few months of this, propped against pillows, shirtless, nursing and typing in bed... right? His head just smells so GOOD!

On vacation!!!

We didn't plan it this way, but by accident, we are on our first "with Mose" vacation... by which I mean, "We spent the night in a hotel."


Chris had a show last night in Chattanooga (my old college stomping grounds) and since the show was at a theater, and smoke-free, I decided to drive up too, with Le Bebe, and see some music. They played with The Little Country Giants, who were very very good (check em if you like old-timey bluegrassy goodness. They have parlor guitar and upright bass, not to mention some lovely harmonies.)


So then it was late, and we decided to stay over at the Read House, the downtown hotel where once I drank too many whiskeys and ate an entire arrot cake (but that's another story).


Now it's morning, and we're off to wander the awesomeness that is Chattavegas. Maybe hit Warehouse Row, the Hunter Art Museum, grab lunch at one of the many establishments where once upon a time I was a waitress...


I like small towns. I like big cities. The question is... how to live in both?

Feb. 11: Book Burning!!!!

Here in Atlanta, Feb. 11th is the first ever literary book burning!!! (leave it to Atlanta to come up with such a potentially offensive event. I suppose we will all be getting crunk as well.)


Below is an email from the Duck & Herring Company, who are hosting the event!!! (do not ask me why there is no herring in the logo. I don't know. I feel sorry for the poor little herring who got left out of the picture, probably becasue he can't fly... which makes him feel bad enough to begin with. Damn duck!)


In all seriouslness, this will be WAY cool, and I plan to be there, maybe with Mose!


Friends of The Duck & Herring Co.:


As you might have heard, to celebrate the release of our Winter Pocket Field Guide, we're holding a book burning at Aurora Coffee next to Criminal Records on Moreland Ave. It's Saturday, February 11 at 7 p.m. But it's just not any book burning -- it's Atlanta's first-ever book burning and reading.


That's right; we love literature and we would never burn a book out of hate. Instead, we're hoping to redefine what a book burning is to all those who attend.


Here's what we hope you'll see, around the blaze of a trashcan fire, amid the smoke and ash of burning books, with sirens blaring in the background as the fire people approach and wonder what we're up to:


- a brief history of book burnings, including those held in Atlanta over the years, presented by The Duck & Herring Co.


- a brief history of other things that have been burned for unpleasant reasons over the years, presented by Terra Elan McVoy. editor at The Duck & Herring Co.


- an actual trashcan burning of books, in the parking lot


- a prize drawing


- music -- either a trumpet or a violin, it depends


- a prayer to the fire gods, or something along those lines, read by Johnny Pence of Athens, GA and Blotter fame


- a short story about a book burning presented by Jamie Allen, founder of The Duck & Herring Co.


- The Duck & Herring Co.'s patented Winter To-Do List, read by someone with a German accent


- and hosting and various factoid-presenting by Tom Bell, the Shelf Space writer at Creative Loafing


In short, this is the type of thing that can really kickstart a Saturday night. Imagine heading to a bar or a party after, and you're friends ask you what you did before you showed up there, and you say, "Oh, I went to this book burning ..." Interesting conversation ensues, guaranteed.


Also, HDNet is recording this for posterity, so you might get caught on camera at a book burning, and then you will have an FBI file, guaranteed, and everybody should have one of those during these crazy times.


Best of all, this event is FREE. Imagine it: music, readings, a history lesson, fire and smoke. And sirens, hopefully approaching toward the end.


Special thanks to Criminal Records and Aurora Coffee for co-sponsoring this. We didn't see Barnes & Noble stepping up to the plate when we started mentioning a book burning ...


Join us!
The Editors
The Duck & Herring Co.


In other news, I got some highlights put in my hair, but it is unlikely you will notice or care. That's how it is with hair, we all care about our own, but rarely notice anyone elses. But OH! it felt good to have someone shampoo me.