girl

Friday, March 30, 2007

Mose update...

Mose is growing like the proverbial weed... but I've been AWFUL about posting pictures. In fact, I've been pretty awful about taking pictures.


Here now , for your viewing pleasure, some new shots of Mose:




Mose, in a particularly stunning rocker ensemble. That's just how he rolls.


Suede vest courtesy of Bo and Pieta. Lion onesie courtesy of Ali. Red shoes courtesy of the thrift store around the corner.



Everyone told me not to cut his hair myself... Did I listen? Of course I didn't. Which is how I ended up rushing off to an overpriced salon and paying $20 for a three minute "fix". Sigh You can tell by Mose's expression that HE knew I was making a mistake the WHOLE time!



Mose, after the "fix". The front looks okay, but they couldn't do much about my hatchet-job in back.



Mose, hard at work on *his* computer.



Mose LOVES post-it notes!



But enough with all the office work!


Watermelon+naked Mose+summery weather= FUN!

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Thursday, March 29, 2007

April, she's cruel...


I'm not sure I'm up to it, and I certainly don't have the time...
But I'm gonna give it my best shot!
NaPoWriMo, I'm looking to kick yer ass.

Too soon to tell...

But things *might* be looking up over here.


In other news, Mose is the cutest thing in the universe, of course. Hubby mowed the lawn. I'm getting big as hell. Time for fried chicken and watermelon and burgers and salads and...


I miss beer. Summer without beer is like... well... Summer without beer.


But there's always CCR to fall back on.


Though listening to CCR makes me want a beer.


Sigh.


Yes, it's that time of year. The whole world pink and purple and getting hotter. Wisteria and Cherry blossoms. Dogwood. Pollen dusting the ground green. Windows rolled down, music LOUD. Sunglasses. I don't brush my hair cause it'll just get tangled anyway. Tank tops and sandals and flimsy skirts that blow around my knees and sweat on my neck and I want to be young and dumb and sitting on a porch with old friends, laughing and drinking and wasting the day.


Ahhhhh. Summer in the south.


This! This is where I want to live.

Sunday, March 25, 2007

The honest truth...

My (slightly obnoxious, but honest) thoughts on editing an anthology...


...at the Southeast Review.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Word on the street...

"The Bachelor" is looking to for a writer (or director) willing to be its next eye-candy/contestant. A handsome one.


In case anyone reading this happens to be a single hot wordsmith.

New York state of mind...

Recent events (nothing to do with me, or writing) have me wanting to be in Manhattan right now. It's silly, but I can't shake it. A New York longing...


What is it about New York? I long ago reconciled myself to not being able to afford (in several currencies) to live there... but my visits several times a year make me so happy. Not just because my best friend is there, or because there's good food, etc. But because of the bustle.


I love that bustle. I love being a visitor in NY... the odd combination of constant company and total anonymity. Noise and solitude. I love the sense of being able to get anything at any time. Of being able to chat up strangers. I love the subway. I love coffee in little fat paper cups.


Here in Atlanta, hubby and I joke about our New York retirement plan... but in the meantime, I'm missing it.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Busy bee...

Too much going on to blog, but none of it is very interesting anyway...


Spring cleaning. Revising my CV. Working on a proposal for a new book, and on a new series of poems, a dictionary of sorts.


But mostly playing with Mose, which means chasing after him as he navigates (and subverts) my lame attempt at spring cleaning.


One high note-- the other night I went OUT with some FRIENDS (which is something I never get to do). We saw a real-live MOVIE, and it was super super super good!

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Funny...

I've been working on poems again. After a long dry spell.


And suddenly I CANNOT sleep!!!


Truly... I've been awake since four this morning. FOUR!


Which is a problem I had in grad school, more than any other time. And NOT a problem I've had recently at all.


Is it possible that poetry causes insomnia?


Or is it just my own damn fault for going to bed early on a Saturday night?

Friday, March 16, 2007

Ach!!!

Jim Behrle is an undeniable asshole.


But he's almost always on the money.


Why does he make you so nervous?


Are we mad because he says these things...


Or mad because they're true?


I'm not saying I always like it. I'm not saying attack-dog blogging is fun. I'm certainly not saying I like being at the other end of Jimmy'spoking-people-stick. I'm not saying it's "right" or that it's the best way to be.


But Jimmy's not dumb. And he's not wrong. And he serves a purpose. Probably more of a purpose than the rest of us, who are all doing vaguely different versions of the same thing (though it's a thing I happen to like).


But let's grow some balls, people. Let's get real. Didn't we learn anything from 8 Mile?


Call yourself out, before someone else does. At least then you don't come off like a chickenshit.


I like AWP. I like Breadloaf. I'm proud of my MFA. Though I didn't jump to the head of the class and become an insta-star as the result of any of those experience. Which did, I suppose, piss me off at one time, and lead me to a strange middle -ground of wanting success, and also needing to believe it doesn't matter that much.


I'm proud of my published work, and the fact that I'm published... though it's never good enough. I like bitching and moaning and dreaming of greener pastures. I can be a pain. I get insecure. I want people to like me, and much of this other junk has to do with that fact. I like paneling and partying with poets. It makes me feel smart and less insane. I like having friends who like what I like, and I like having friends who don't, so I have people to argue with. I like drinking and books and nepotism/creative community. Someday I'd like to find a cushy university job. I *am* a mommy poet, and yeah, I suddenly think my baby is way more important than my social life... or yours. I judge myself and others. If there is a little conference for poets I like and think are smart, I'll go. If there is a little conference for poets I think are not-so-smart... I won't bother.


But that's with just a small part of who I am (though it often overlaps the blogging part of who I am)


Because I'm also just a person who likes to read and write. I like writers because they have interesting things to say sometimes. Often, books are good. Often, imperfect/self-involved/careerist writers produce good books.


But not when we waste all our time with this garbage....


All that really matters is maintaining helath care anyway...

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

A truth...

I would not have liked Emily Dickinson.


I would have thought she was creepy and dull. I would have talked about her behind her back for being creepy and dull. I would have had parties and honestly forgotten to invite her, because she would have made me nervous.


Not because I think I'm cooler, but because I'd assume she was judging me.


She would not have laughed at my nervous jokes, and if she would have laughed, she would have laughed nervously.


I would have said to someone "That much introversion is an act. Has to be" She would have thought I was fluffy and loud. She would have thought I talked too much.


Around her I would probably talk too much.


The truth hurts.

Oh, lordy...

Mose was SICK all night long. And a long night it was.


In other news, it's beautiful here in Georgia. Every damn thing is blooming.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Just how underread are you???

Evidently, these are the "best works of American fiction of the last 25 years". (via Antoine)


And evidently I'm not as well read as I thought (particular shame in NOT having read American Pastoral yet).


The meme goes like this... copy the list and bold the titles you've read, to reveal your own humiliation. (and yeah, I did read ALL the Updike, and let me be the one to say they DON'T all belong on there. Rabbit Run rocks, but some of them are just porny and lame)


Then, when you've finished shaming yourself, help me make a list of the "best American poetry of the last 25 years"!


Beloved–Toni Morrison
Underworld–Don DeLillo
Blood Meridian–Cormac McCarthy
Rabbit Angstrom: The Four Novels–John Updike– Rabbit, Run, Rabbit Redux, Rabbit Is Rich, Rabbit at Rest
American Pastoral–Philip Roth
A Confederacy of Dunces–John Kennedy Toole
Housekeeping–Marilynne Robinson
Winter’s Tale–Mark Helprin
White Noise–Don DeLillo
The Counterlife–Philip Roth
Libra–Don DeLillo
Where I’m Calling From–Raymond Carver
The Things They Carried–Tim O’Brien
Mating–Norman Rush
Jesus’ Son–Denis Johnson
Operation Shylock–Philip Roth
Independence Day–Richard Ford
Sabbath’s Theater–Philip Roth
Border Trilogy–Cormac McCarthy—
All the Pretty Horses, The Crossing, Cities of the Plain
The Human Stain–Philip Roth
The Known World–Edward P. Jones
The Plot Against America–Philip Roth

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

My other big AWP moment...




The non-stressful highlight of my AWP (which did not include angry old men in yellow sweaters) was the awesome reading Saturday night, 100% Dynamite Blow Up at the Apache Cafe(Octopus, Pilot, Black Ocean, and No tell Books kicking ass) . It should become an AWP tradition I think.


Poetry that entertains is the kind of poetry that belongs on a stage. There are too many good poems that turn into boring readings. A stage demands attitude. It was grand!!!


Reb has a write-up and pics over at her place, and I had to leave early and missed much fun (because of the smoke) but let me tell you... everyone ROCKED and I was so happy to be a No Tell Gal.


Proof: here's a pic of me, happy and pregnant as hell, reading my naughty poem about pregnant sex. Yeah!

Monday, March 05, 2007

God Bless My Queen...




I love Dan Nester for many many reasons, as should you.

Right now I love him because he took this silly pic of me and Thom Didato posing for the camera, and also this other pic of the ANGRY MAN WHO CALLED ME WRONGHEADED!!! There he is, third from the right, looking angry in a yellowish sweater!

But generally I love Dan because he says the shit nobody else will say. Like when, during our panel, a woman suggested the creation of a new form called the Po-essay (with an affected accent)... and Dan responded from the podium,


I'm sorry hon, but no... that just sounds WAY too much like pussy.

The Skinny...

I've talked about this so much with so many people that I'm sick of it, but I need to rehash one last time, here... because it was the biggest thing that happened to me at AWP...


My insane panel, and the insane reaction it received.


The topic was (basically) "Why do poets start writing prose and how do they feel about it?" I hadn't realized it was going to be so heated. I had no idea it was such a provocative subject.


My goal in pitching this panel was just (honestly) that I know a lot of people who are, like me, working in multiple genres, and I wanted to force poets to talk about money and audience (which they don't do often in public. I wanted to hear people say things like:


"It's nice to know that other (regular) people are reading your work. It's nice to get fan mail from strangers."


Or


It's nice when my grandma "gets it."


Or


"There are things I jsut can't say in a poem."


Or even


Man, aint nothin wrong with a paycheck."


Because those things are true, but poets sometimes get uncomfortable talking about them. And I like to force private conversations out into the open.


Of course, I had planned to go slow... begin with aesthetics and hybrid forms, the lyric essay and prose poetry. I was going to ask about whether or not certain ideas/subjects demand new forms... about whether linebreaks and tight revision get in the way of communication.


But we never really got there, at least not all the way there. (I'd never moderated a panel before, and I wasn't prepared for what happened)


Because first we all got up and told our "stories." We (the panelists listed in the post below) each explained how we'd come to write prose (specifically nonfiction) , and in different ways, we discussed why "nonfiction writer" is sometimes a hard hat to wear. Some of us even used the word "shame."


Now please, understand that nobody ever meant to suggest that nonfiction is shameful. None of us feel that way about any genre, and I did my best to explain that. I tried to state (over and over) that the world is full of amazing nonfiction and sloppy poetry. We weren't saying poetry was better. We weren't even saying it was easier (to write), though we did at one point talk about it being easier for most people to read, and we said it might be easier to publish. But we really didn't mean to judge nonfiction or nonfiction writers.


I think what we meant was...


Well...


You know how if you're from somewhere. Like, you're from Baltimore (which I am)... and you think of yourself as being a Baltimore girl. And then you move to, say, Atlanta (which I did)....


No matter how you like Atlanta, it feels funny when people ask where you live. So you say, "Atlanta, but I'm from Baltimore, really." Because your identity is still attached to Baltimore. You don't hate Atlanta. You don't think other people should be ashamed of Atlanta. It's not a southern/northern thing. But on some level you're ashamed (or conflicted-- a better word) at having jumped ship.


Poetry is like that for me, a bit. I'm a poet on the inside, but because prose comes faster, and is easier to publish, my prose credentials are lapping my poetry credentials. So there's some confusion for me on the outside. On the inside I'm still just writing, all kinds of things. But I do have an outside self and it does connect to a lot of things in my life. I do care (I'll admit it) how people see me. I want to be respected as a poet by other poets. I fear losing that... and however much it shouldn't feel like that, it does sometimes. It DOES feel like writing books for children will compromise how seriously I'm taken.


Anyway... I think that was a big part of what I wanted to say. And I wanted the conversation to provoke discussion. I wanted it to bear fruit. I wanted to hear other people say things.


But once people heard that word "shame" they stopped listening I think. They didn't hear me say


"I'm not saying all nonfiction is bad. Some of it is amazing. I'm just saying that there's a lot of bad personal narrative on Livejournal and maybe that affects how I feel about my own personal narrative."


They didn't hear me say,


"I'm not saying all poetry is inaccesible and limited. I'm just saying that for me personally, there are things--like childbirth and politics-- that I can't write in a poem. And I can write about them in an essay."


What the poets heard was "Poetry is academic and inaccesible, and I want to make some fucking money."


And what the nonfiction writers heard was, "Nonfiction is easy. I could do it in my sleep. Any monkey could."


And so a lot of people (oddly, most of them much older than me) got up and left. And one man just kept yelling from the front row, and then he left too.


And then, that night, I was telling someone about this, and they were like, "Was that YOU?" Apparently, this dude was sitting outside the room and got to overhear the angry people leaving the panel early. He seemed entertained by it all.


And then, over and over, I got to have people come up to me and say, "Oh, man! I heard about your panel."


Which was lovely.


Of course, I did have a lot of interesting conversations as a result, and that was, I guess, ultimately the point. But I didn't sleep well Thursday night.

Believe it or not...

So many poets (and writers) are blogging (or reading) right now about AWP, it is the 3rd most popular search on Technorati!!!


Remember this moment!!! At 11:49 on Monday, March 5, we were more popular thanBritney Spears.


Coming in third... after Antonella Barba and Ann Coulter.


Keep up the good work, and come back later to read about the man who stormed out of my panel and called me "wrongheaded".

AWP insanities...

Okay, so I still don't have time for a long post about the AWP panel I convened "Losing Our Linebreaks (and Cashing the Cow)"... in which Rebecca Wolff, Beth Ann Fennelly, Dan Nester, Jennifer Michael Hecht, and myself talked about why we (who are primarily poets) also write prose, and what that feels like... but I want to say that I WILL get to it this evening... and it might even be worth stopping back by.


For now, let me say that I've discovered something... that many people have VERY strong reactions to the word "shame"...


But in about an hour (it comes first because they pay me) I'll be AWP-blogging over at Jewcy... about the second panel I did ( Jason Schneiderman's baby) on writing faith for the Faithless (and the Faithful). Which was not nearly so heated, though it WAS pretty great. I got to use the word "fuck" a lot but was still completely overshadowed by the amazing Kazim Ali, my new hero. Check it out in a bit.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

People were angry...

People were angry at my panel.


Are they angry at the things we said?


Or angry because they're true?


In any case, it was fun, and not dull.


No, you couldn't say it was dull.