Chi-Town, The Next Round!

Here's a picture of mom and I at Hot Chocolate in Chicago---check out my new 'do! Tomorrow I'm off to Chicago again---went with mom last week for Mother's Day and these are the pics...the dessert looks good, but the company was better. Though today, it was all about the dark chocolate cake at Leopold's. Sorry Hot Chocolate, the hometown takes it!

Reb and I will be reading here at 7 p.m. on Tuesday May 22nd. I haven't done a reading in a while---seems as if I've almost forgotten about the book with teaching, writing fiction, wwph stuff---did a little bit of grant work so hopefully we'll get a small projects grant from the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities. Maybe then we can afford an ad in Poets and Writers or get a table at AWP---though it always seems like these "big" and "established" places are more resume builders and I'm not sure if this is the best way to spend money. As I was running back from the "meeting" in Elizabeth's Ford Aspire, parked illegally outside the Mansion at O Street---I actually ran out in my pajama pants and had a college flashback---but I'm digressing---I ran into my neighbors across the way and we talked about how much work artists put in and it being such a labor of love. Luckily for me, I still love what I do and the bartending pays the bills.

Though as much as I like getting propositioned by drunks, getting tequilla spilled on me, and sweeping up broken glass, I wish for more big tips for writing---maybe that just means submitting to more contests and grants though! Ok, I'm ready for the next round.

Bottoms up!

Good News!

WWPH in the City Paper!

Larry Larry Bo Berry....

Last night was the awards ceremony for the Larry Neal Writing Awards. I really felt like I was taken back to high school speech and debate competitions. While it was exciting to be there, it just didn't seem like it was a night geared at all for adults. Sarah Browning and I took Honorable Mention while Regie Cabico and Fred Joiner took third and second respectively. Some woman none of us knew snagged the big prize. The best part was that my cousins were there cheering me on and we had dinner at Cafe Belga afterwards.

Sometimes I wonder about how much we have to go through as writers. There are so many contests and awards and it feels like there is always more you could be doing to promote yourself and get your work out there and garner enough fellowships and honors so that you're perceived as "qualified" and "talented." Though I know this is something everyone laments, that we all could do more, no matter what our professions are. What ever happened to Art for Art's sake?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not all bent out of shape about this---this is a minor ding in the frame, means it's time for me to just write and not think about sending things out, except for that big NEA grant :)

Now, if only I lived in Portland, I could have one of these ice cream sandwiches and feel better. Maybe I'll stop by Larry's on the way to Rouge---get out the bad Larry and in with the good Larry!

Law Prom Cat and Mouse!

While we were off dancing the night away....

Frank was throwing wild cat parties at home!!!

A Prose by Any Other Name

What I just realized about my fiction is that it is most often autobiographical in some nature--which is how I started writing poetry in the first place. Now, there's not so much "I" in my poetry. I think this is how writers begin. You start with the nucleus of yourself and move outward. This makes sense as my fiction writing is much younger than my poetry. I've been feeling guilty that it was National Poetry month and I was deep into my affair with prose. On Friday I told Jonathan I wanted to write a novel that made it into airport bookstores. I never had that ambition as a poet. That world was so much smaller---more sacred in a way. Or at least, less ambition. I keep turning out prose, but so far am keeping most of it to myself or at least only letting friends and family read it.

Last night we had a wonderful Burlesque--pictures will be up soon so check them out. I finally got to meet Alison Stine! Her chapbook came out of Kent State and she was a year older than me and for the longest time I wanted to be like her. Her poems reminded me of the narratives I wanted to tell. And watching them grow---they slip more into the surreal now---moving away from that epicenter of truth, meaning easy facts, stories, and memories. I wonder if this is how we all journey as writers. Starting out more grounded and tentative and then off into the swirling and twirling regions that lack the characteristics that compelled us to write in the first place. Jordan Davis and Mairead Byrne made me laugh, taking seemingly boring and daily objects and infusing them with humor and life. I had needed some good cheer and they really worked their magic on me. I also watched Jordan and Ali hold hands much of the night. It was their first reading together as a married couple. *Awww!*

This week is the big LAW Prom. This year my dress was on sale, but it's still designer and I can wear those fabulous silver shoes I bought on impulse because of the brand name, United Nude.

Pink Lady and Lady in White

The other day, I watched that Southern Lady on the Cooking Network make Pink Ladies. They sounded gross to me---gin, grenadine, and cream. And if you're daring, an egg white. So, Thursday being my first bartender shift in a while (I usually cocktail), I thought, what the hell. And like the MR 4 Sandwich at Tommy's in Coventry (falafel, bananas, spinach, and curry), all that nonsense came out delicious. So the Buddha lesson for the weekend---looks can be deceiving. Sometimes what appears hideous is actually sensational! Try it, I dare you!!!

Too bad, I didn't put the Pink Lady on the menu for Suzy's wedding, it would have been a pretty Florida cocktail---but I have other recipes up my sleeve. She even asked for a poem, so for those of you not able to go, here's a taste. (Sandra has been inspiring me with posting poems on her blog)

Epithalamium
for Suzy

I remember the night of your twenty-first birthday,
how you mooned me from our driveway.
Your bare ass lit in the streetlight,

you would be the first one of us to become mother,
before bride, that so often I thought it was you,
not me, who had it backwards,

or how we all tried to make sense, some kind of order,
as you, our girl in track suits
swished into a womanhood

none of us ever doled out for you,
the way we tried to predict each other
down cul-de-sacs into marriage

and pregnancies, all of us spinning
our own delicate dreams,
making promises over pitchers

in darkened bars---
we knew some things would change,
but we promised we wouldn’t change.

I think of you now as my plane lands in Dallas,
asking for this, your wedding poem from me,
for me to weave your life into symbols

and images, to collect grade school notes folded
into swans or faded snapshots of bright-eyed
freshmen, the way we painted stars on the ceiling

of a room we shared or tried to coax butterflies
into landing on our fingers at the conservatory
in Niagara Falls, the way the ocean rises to meet

the sky, or sky lays itself down, either in prayer
or slumber, rapture or necessity---
something unlocking as everything blurs

at the horizon and we cannot help our eyes,
fixed at the vanishing point,
trying to figure out this---
the ordinary magic
we call love.

Otherwise, An Iris, Wild....

I do love tag and since Sandra tagged me, here goes---Amanda McGuire first introduced me to Jane Kenyon when we were in Maj's Poetry class back at Kent. Amanda was one year older and was someone I admired greatly, so when she said I should read Jane Kenyon, she became my new favorite poet. What I continually love is the quiet flare. Her poems are like a favorite pair of jeans or simple cotton tank. Basic, but not boring---poems about living and really seeing the immediate world around you.

*

I also remember when I read Louise Gluck in graduate school. I was mesmerized by The Wild Iris. I was sitting at this coffee shop on Christopher Street and really felt pulled page to page---this was the first time I was introduced to a poetic series. Needless to say, I don't think my steam would exist if it weren't for these poems. In both of these women, I love the connection to the earth and to the process of growing.

Spinning...

Last night I had a fantastic Shabbat dinner at Marcela's house. I remember when I met her and was so in awe of everything she has done---all of her travels, her ability to speak multiple languages, write beautiful poetry, and now I can add make the best chocolate mousse ever! A dinner like this makes me realize why I love Shabbat, because it brings people together, it creates a natural rhythm to the week. A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with Bobby about the importance of circles in Judaism and I had a similar conversation about the moon with Rabbi Muller and even yesterday in yoga, Rob talked about the fluidity of our bodies. I'm not sure where I'm going will all of this yet, but something is definitely spinning...

Shifts

My friend Sandra has been going strong with National Poetry Month---me, I've turned to the dark side and have been focusing on my fiction. I had thought I had been working on short stories, but silly me, it's a novel in stories. At least that's what Tammy has to say about it. I remember when I feared fiction, the precision of sentences coming after each other and having to construct a plot. The world of it seemed too large for me. With poems, a page or two was the largest world I could handle. And now it seems I like the deep end of the language pool---or maybe not even pool, but ocean, the way it pushes me to keep going towards that horizon that you know keeps moving further and futher away the closer you think you are getting.

Another new thing to announce, something that I have been hording and holding close is that next year I will be an Arts Fellow at the Drisha Institute in NYC. I mailed in my acceptance yesterday so it's back to big city, bright lights come August!

Rainy Sunday Poem

Since it is National Poetry month and so goes the saying, April showers bring...here's the poem for the day from poets.org:


From "Far and Away"by Fanny Howe

The rain falls on.
Acres of violets unfold.
Dandelion, mayflower
Myrtle and forsythia follow.

The cardinals call to each other.
Echoes of delicate
Breath-broken whistles.

I know something now
About subject, object, verb
And about one word that fails
For lack of substance.

Now people say, He passed on
Instead of that. Unit
Of space subtracted by one.
It almost rhymes with earth.

What is a poet but a person
Who lives on the ground
Who laughs and listens

Without pretension of knowing
Anything, driven by the lyric's
Quest for rest that never
(God willing) will be found?

Concord, kitchen table, 1966.
Corbetts, Creeley, a grandmother
And me. Sweater, glasses,
One wet eye.

Lots of laughter
Before and after. Every meeting
Rhymed and fluttered into meter.
The beat was the message. . . .

(for Robert Creeley)

I'm all about the Squash

and so is Ramona!

I think it's funny how much yoga has started creeping into the Ramona poems! Kimberly read a great quote about contentment today, about how we all have everything we need inside of us to be happy and it's a matter of using the resources we have to make ourselves the best ourselves we can be. And that we can only be ourselves. We can't be other people, so we should cultivate that which is already there and learn to re-see who we are.

I've been thinking about rabbinical school actually---again---I had actually gotten into the Joint Program at JTS and Columbia for undergrad but ended up at Kent State. Then I applied to HUC but got into an MFA Program so didn't finish my application. So I think it's interesting that like the yoga in Ramona, Judaism, is beginning to pull me back in some ways. This Friday, I'm going back home for services at Rodef and to visit with the Rabbi at Heritage Gardens before services---then back to talk to the Haddasah Brandeis Book Group in B'More. I've also got a Hebrew School visit lined up and will be teaching at the Havurah Institute this summer. And here's the icing---I was awared an Arts Fellowship at the Drisha Institute!

Busy Bee

A good friend of mine gave me a new nickname---Busy Bee! And as you can tell from my lack of blogging this week, I have been flower hopping or something. Was home for Passover and then immersed in my students' writing and then I was a serious Barfly this weekend working three shifts in a row!

On Friday morning I had a nice chat with Rabbi Muller (get ready for my rockin' synagogue reading on Friday April 14th at Rodef Shalom in Y-town!!! 5:30 p.m. for services)---he told me that the Talmud says that in a lifetime, you should plant a tree, have children, and write a book. I really like this idea of leaving a part of yourself behind for generations to come and doing this on different planes---the personal, the intellectual, and the environmental.

I think it is challenging to be aware of giving back and making the world a better place on a daily basis, so I like the idea of having a lifetime to essentially do good. And assessing yearly on the high holidays who you are and what you want to do in the year to come. I suppose one can do this without the thought of religion---and looking at springtime as a chance to clean and plant. This month's article from Real Simple by their amazing life coach challenges us to throw away 50 things---meaning that making yourself lighter physically will help you to become lighter emotionally. So here's to gardens everywhere, even if it is snowing in April!

Lolita and Gilda do it again!

We're everywhere!!! We even had a Burlesque dancer show up Monday night...

Burlesque Beckons!!!

What could be hotter than three women taking it off?

W-A-S-H-I-N-G-T-O-N D-C!!!

A great song by the Magnetic Fields, an also how my day went---started out with a wedding brunch at the Mansion on O street---talk about gaudy and the pairings of ham on the same table as Matzoh Mall soup. Oh, the horror, OY! And then on to a gathering of small press people at the lovely and talented Kim Roberts' house where I met a whole slew of folks who share the good work of the word and love of no money and no fame!!! (aside, amazon just asked for 3 more of my books). We're on our way...

It was sunny and I drove and walked around the city and was surrounded by wonderful people, especially the guys of VRZHU Press who seem to be as fascinated with me as I am with them. Here's what they have to say about lil' me.

And you all thought you knew!

And here's a new side of Frank that I witnessed this morning. He chases his tail. Perhaps he and I are one and the same, going in circles and chasing what you already have. My Frank, a bastard whirling dervish!

Ahh!

Last night I had a great reading in Annapolis. Ahh Coffee reminded me a bit of readings at the Brady---it really seems like they have a tight knit community of regulars with a good influx of newcomers joining in. It made me a bit nostalgic for the less professional side of what we do. It made me feel more grounded in a way---and then when I got home, my fall teaching schedule was in my email...classes on Monday and Wednesday afternoons. Ahhh roots! And just found out that one of my former students was accepted into the Creative Writing minor. And don't forget, Burlesque is on Monday!

It's G'Vine!

You can find me over here today!

Vacation Story Board

Frank is glad we're home. He came out from under the bed to greet us.

A view from Sausilito after a 3 hour hike in Muir Woods.

Above the Redwoods!

Jonathan doesn't like the dark beer in the Saturn Cafe in Santa Cruz :(

Carly likes the Argonaut at a SF Kimpton Hotel but hopes the uniforms at Rouge aren't this extreme!

Jonathan and the pretty ponies at Fisherman's Wharf!

Back Home

One of the things that I loved about all of my travels was the time to read. I had forgotten what it was like to get lost in a book. On the way out to San Fran I read Tammy Stewart Greenwood's Nearer than Sky. I have this goal of reading all of the books of my colleagues. I was dazzled from page one. It's amazing how much this book speaks to the short stories I have been writing. Tammy has a way of writing about intimate relationships between men and women and women that are related that are so true to life, it's hard not to recongnize part of yourself within each of her characters. In reading this book, I came to discover more about how I handle my own personal relationships and was able to come to terms with some of my own anxieties and coping mechanisms.

I'm now reading Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking. I even cried on the airplane---another book that will make you rethink how you live and make choices. I'm not done yet, but I think this will be on my list of all time must reads. Yes, I'm having a serious case of fiction envy right now.

Cali

I don't know why the whole world doesn't live here. I remember when a friend from college was graduating and I was heading for NYC for grad school and she was heading out to San Fran for a job and thought we had it backwards. Ah well, there is always the possibility! Today we drove down to Santa Cruz via US 1, stopping in Pescadaro for lunch (as Erika recommended!). We bought some great artichoke bread which we'll eat tomorrow morning. Bummed around Santa Cruz and the beaches along the road and had dinner at a great vege-diner called Saturn and then rented a hot tub/sauna in a Japanese garden before heading back to SF. Also got a t, that says "vegetarians have more fun" for Ramona!

Wrote two poems in the Dallas airport and had another mishap with Corona...got my knife stuck in the bottle---was trying to get the lime down. So that ended up in my ode to beer as well.

Had lunch with Alice Anderson our first day here---she is lovelier than anyone I have ever met. And we both even use the same Rosebud salve for our lips. Another poetry crush, and her permissions just went through for the anthology---some good karma out here!

Cat Update

I think I'll name him Frank. Last night Jonathan and I got him to come out from under the bed. So far, he likes to play with string and look at himself in the mirror. And he likes being brushed and having his belly rubbed.

Now off to meet the lady poets for tea...how cliche of me, cat, tea! At least yesterday I wrote an Ode to Beer with my students---don't blame me, they picked that. Of course they would---it was the day before spring break.

An Addition to the Family

I just found out that I'm expecting...a cat. The shelter finally got a declawed cat and as long as I prove that I'm a fit cat mother during the home visit tonight, I should have four paws running around by the end of the week. Here he is in all his glory---now I just need a name!

Up up and away

I'm on a poetry high right now---check out the photos from last night's Burlesque! And found out that I'll be teaching the poetry workshop at the F. Scott Fitzgerald Festival in Rockville next October! Off to AWP so bye bye blog for now. More rockstar-ness to follow next week. Stay tuned!

A Test

For some reason, I can't find my last post, but I know other people have read it so this is a test for the twilight zone. No news here!

Neglected

Oh blog, how I have forgotten about you---blame it on the week of hazy celebrations or travels, but I've been a bad writer. There were so many things that I wanted to tell you, so many good poetry things---about readings, and then about travel, my mom found a great website about trips women should take though I forget where I put the link (reminded me that yes, I am still a feminist) even though I'm up to my neck in laundry and love finding new recipes in Real Simple. The 18 year old me is cussing out the 28 year old me (where are your values? why are you in the house so much? Do you really like crocheting?). I also realized I can't party like I used to. This new body, while open to yoga and tight bartending outfits refuses to be a temple to alcoholic nights. I have become a puker in my mid-to-late twenties. My body seems to like to expel fun---booze, food---my delicate stomach can't even handle an excess of guacamole. Too much yummy Mexican even cuts a night short. *sigh* Lately I just feel busy---perhaps I've taken on to much. I miss those days when I could just hang out. Though I think that's getting older---just taking on more responsibilities. I feel like I have so much correspondence, press stuff, teaching stuff, that yoga really becomes down time. And there are so many other things that I want to start doing. I'd like to get back to swing dancing and have a regular date with the girls or the poets. Ramola and I are going to try and get something together at GW for us faculty to hang out and share our work. I go back to what Maj has advised. Plant your roots and do the good work. Sometimes I question how much good work I'm doing. Things don't feel as organic as I would prefer. Everything is about a purpose in a way. Rumi has been coming back to me lately---the National Geographic photographer who comes to Rouge between internation stints told me he's working on a Rumi article and they've been reading a lot of Rumi in yoga class. So I'll leave you with Rumi as I ammend my neglects: "Love is a tree with branches reaching into eternity and roots set deep in eternity, and no trunk! Have you seen it? The mind cannot. Your desiring cannot."

PS---Burlesque Poetry tonight!!!

Neglected

Oh blog, how I have forgotten about you---blame it on the week of hazy celebrations or travels, but I've been a bad writer. There were so many things that I wanted to tell you, so many good poetry things---about readings, and then about travel, my mom found a great website about trips women should take though I forget where I put the link (reminded me that yes, I am still a feminist) even though I'm up to my neck in laundry and love finding new recipes in Real Simple. The 18 year old me is cussing out the 28 year old me (where are your values? why are you in the house so much? Do you really like crocheting?). I also realized I can't party like I used to. This new body, while open to yoga and tight bartending outfits refuses to be a temple to alcoholic nights. I have become a puker in my mid-to-late twenties. My body seems to like to expel fun---booze, food---my delicate stomach can't even handle an excess of guacamole. Too much yummy Mexican even cuts a night short. *sigh*

Lately I just feel busy---perhaps I've taken on to much. I miss those days when I could just hang out. Though I think that's getting older---just taking on more responsibilities. I feel like I have so much correspondence, press stuff, teaching stuff, that yoga really becomes down time. And there are so many other things that I want to start doing. I'd like to get back to swing dancing and have a regular date with the girls or the poets. Ramola and I are going to try and get something together at GW for us faculty to hang out and share our work. I go back to what Maj has advised. Plant your roots and do the good work. Sometimes I question how much good work I'm doing. Things don't feel as organic as I would prefer. Everything is about a purpose in a way.

Rumi has been coming back to me lately---the National Geographic photographer who comes to Rouge between internation stints told me he's working on a Rumi article and they've been reading a lot of Rumi in yoga class. So I'll leave you with Rumi as I ammend my neglects:

"Love is a tree with branches reaching into eternity and roots set deep in eternity, and no trunk! Have you seen it? The mind cannot. Your desiring cannot."

PS---Burlesque Poetry tonight!!!

Off to NYC

Find me at the KGB Bar Monday night and for the Alimentum reading Tuesday night!

Found Love Up His Nose

You have to click on the picture to be able to read the comments and they're well worth it. Ah, cliched love! Roses and reservations (that's what's in store for me). I printed some love poems for my students from Poets.org to get them writing---to steal a line from the poem they picked and to free write (then using the author in the title). I love how we can still rift on the holidays...I remember once making a poem of the words on candy hearts!

Here's mine:

Found Object Valentine
(for Peter Gizzi)

These things: leaf, zipper, sparrow, potato chip
moon. Lintel, scarf, window shade. Dildo, collinder,
a spade, a hunk of cheese, slab of bread. Eros.
Mortar and pestle, a long tube, plastic spoon, hair
coiffed, steel coiled. Do I love you or not
today, winter Tuesday. My birthday, tofu
bacon, the locked door. Up, rocks. Both.
Neither. Pathetic swoon.


I had forgotten to blog about Atlanta and how I caught a certain someone with his finger up his nose on the airplane. And today, yellow and orange roses. I'm wondering if those things cancel each other out. Maybe he was digging for roses???

Another Roadtrip

Last night I was talking to Jillian about making more time to read and crochet---I'm going to try and work in 30 minutes a day dedicated to either. I think the problem for me, is that writing work never really stops. I could always write more and read more. And pleasure reading is often also work reading and vice versa. Click here for my latest pleasure job! I was virtually in Connecticut and Nicaragua. On Saturday I actually travel to NYC for readings at the KGB and Alimentum. Who says you can't mix business and pleasure?

An Atlanta Review

Already! Those bloggers don't waste any time!

ATL

Hot-lanta just got hotter!The ladies of Burlesque will be bringing it and who knows, we may slip out of something and give Sandra Beasley cause for another great article!

Crochet

Sarah was in town visiting---this morning we went to Stitch DC and she taught me how to crochet over tea at Ching Ching Cha. There's a lot of women in my family who knit and so now, at least I'll be able to bring my ball and needle around and not feel so un-womanly. I've got the cooking part down and so now, onto some handy work.

Last night I took her to the JCC to hear Myla Goldberg read and perform with One Ring Zero. Reminded me of how back in college, I always brought my non-Jewish friends around to Hillel. What struck me about Myla is how much we have in common---we both love Kundera and Kafka and both lived in Prague. Though I didn't try to talk to her--I thought it might be weird---too much "me too" vibe going on.

Ah well, I can reflect while I loop and pull through--that's our bastard yarn-speak!

Ramona's Got a New Bag

and I have to share it with her---the birthday card from my dad and stepmom read: to Carly and Ramona...luckily since she's my alter-ego, we can both use it at the same time. No girl fights getting ready in the morning!!!

It was worth being woken up for after a night of the hottest Burlesque action ever!

It Wasn't Really Sold Out...

On Friday Sandra and I managed to get tickets to the sold out David Lehman reading at the writer's center. David read a phenomenal new poem, Yeshiva Boys, a poem in mutiple sections (it took at least 20 minutes to read I think) and I was amazed at how much ground this poem covered---from Europe to his childhood---the humor and seriousness. I know I'm not doing this the honor here, but the poem made me really think about memoir---how much of our history is a part of our identity. I think for me this was the first time I even thought of Lehman as a Jewish poet even though I knew he was. The poem made me take him more seriously as I often think of David and punning and fun more often. And also someone who writes shorter, less challenging poems. I was really glad for it. I think that line that has been in my head---how we become ghosts of ourselves--will be part of a longer poem.

It was a see and be seen event in DC poetry and I was glad that David gave me a shout out in his introduction. He was mentioning all the trustees and presidents and then my name. I saw a few people turn around trying to figure out who I was. I spent most of the night talking with his wife and some colleagues from GW and I was giddy from some news from the grapevine and a folder full of my students first poems. Afterwards to Biddy's for some good poetry discourse with Sandra and of course the late night slice. Actually two slices.

The Good and The Bad News

The Good:

Had a great reading in Philly last night and wrote two new Ramona poems on the train home! I'm really excited about this summer at the Havurah Institute---I'm teaching with some great people so check it out and maybe you can be there too!

The Bad:

I will not be the Jenny Moore Visiting Writer or teaching at Oberlin next year. But I think it's all for the better. I've got enough cooking in DC and plenty to keep me busy.

Thus Spake Ramona

It's funny that I'm working on a poem about the merits of online shopping and now you can find Ramona online here. I was just recording her in NYC last weekend and here she is, in the voice!

I'm feeling very energized today. I have some amazing students this semester---I am always surprised by their honesty when they do their introductions and can't wait to see their writing. I know that sounds like crap-o teacher talk, but really, I do believe it. We all have so much inside us and it takes guts to come to the page. And for me, I go straight from the page to the yoga mat. And it's funny because the yoga teachers say the same thing---honor the fact that you came to the mat. So I'm going to tell that to my students. I'm honored that they came to the page today.

This morning while drying my hair these lines came to me: the way we become our own ghosts. I'm not sure where it will go or what poem is brewing, and speaking of steam, SPD asked for 40 more copies!

HOT!!!

Last night I made a spicer version of chicken soup. The recipe was called Asian Hot Pot which I found in Real Simple. It's become my new favorite magazine. The soup uses a soy ginger broth which you can create from chicken or vegetable stock by adding you guessed it, ginger and soy, or you can but a ginger and soy stock---yeah, Trader's Joes! Then you cook down mushrooms, chicken, bok choy, and carrots in ginger and garlic and hot pepper (I used dried chilli peppers) and then add that all to the broth slowly simmering and add some rice noodles and viola---Kung Oy!

I ate it for lunch and dinner today (as well as last night and most likely the rest of the week) and did hot yoga tonight for the first time. This new semester is going to be HOT!!!

It's NYC, go ahead, pee anywhere

Perfect NYC day---recorded Ramona in a friend of Paulette's apartment and I think this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship between Alimentum and Ramona!!! Walked around the Village, had Two Boots (Earth Mother, of course) and drank jasmine tea from the indoor garden of La Lantana and beers at the Slaughtered Lamb before meeting Jonathan for dinner at Le Zie and then Avenue Q. It always seems like whenever I see a show, it becomes my new favorite. After all, who doesn't like to hear puppets say Fuck You. And that's mild. You know this show is rocking when the line for the ladies room is too long and so we gals hijacked the mens at five minutes before show time. That Ramona, she's a wild one---I mean, if she can roll squash around, and protest canned vegetables, why not bogart the men's room? There were stalls in there not being used!

The Chi in DC

Off to NYC to do some recording for Alimentum---Ramona will be online soon. You'll be able to hear her sing the praises of squash and the like! Also reading at Zinc Bar at 7 p.m. on Sunday!

There's been some crazy chi here in DC so I'll be glad to get out of town for a bit. My last table last night---the man's name was Jonathan Sachs. Luckily I didn't find that out until after he left, because if I had known that while I was serving drinks, I probably would have made some off handed cousin remark.

Me-OW!

Last night I was walzing around barefoot on a hardwood floor and got a splinter in my foot. I guess I should be more demure and keep my socks on next time. Everyone in yoga had some advice, but after the epsom salts and much digging around, there's still that sliver up in there near my toes.

So bring your tweezers and splinter remedies to The Black Cat tonight if you come out for the reading.

The Way We Are

Lisa just sent me this photo of all of us girls and I got Melissa's holiday card in the mail the other day. I love how she makes these great newsletter things. For those of you who get them, you know why they're so awesome, and for those who don't, I don't think I can sum it all up here...but I want to thank her so much for reminding me of the power of dreams and especially for number 1 (though I'll keep most of you in the dark about what #1 is, after all, number 8 instructs us to let some things be mysterious). But what I really love is number 6---Remember that everyone is a afraid of something, loves something, and has lost something.

Today was brunch a la couzinas a la chez Albemarle. Family. Food. Food. Food. Food. Gym. Veggie Lasagne. Yes, that's been my day, a whole lot of eating and hanging out.

Black Cats

Your vote matters! Beacause I still want to say that I work at one of the hippest bars in the city :)

And speaking of bars, I'll be reading at the Black Cat in DC on Wednesday Jan. 10th at 9 p.m. and at the Zinc Bar in NYC on Sunday Jan. 14th at 7 p.m.

Work-wise, I've been touching up the syllabus and getting ready for the semester. For the first time, I have two classes where I have many more guys than girls. This is the opposite of what it usually is. Perhaps too many students were reading the ratings on RatemyProfessor.com. Hmmmm....

Also working on the deep cleveland anthology and trying to sequence and score last minute permissions. This week I'm meeting with an artist for the cover design.

The most difficult challenge is getting a cat. I know, it sounds silly but to find a declawed cat in the city is proving to be very frustrating. I'm turning in my application with Four Paws today so here's hoping!

My First Review

arrived today! And it's good! Piotr tells me the book is selling well on SPD. All of this after I told Jonathan I want my life to be more uneventful. Today my accomplishments included making pumpkin pancakes, going to yoga, whole foods, and making pasta with homemade sauce, spinach, and ground turkey. Then hanging out with GG (the cat, not mine). The cousins came to yoga and Leslie said she'd be a catsitter when I travel so looks like there will be a cat as long as the DC shelter doesn't judge me an unfit cat mom.

Boo!!!

Being Compassionate

That is the theme this month in yoga---opening your heart up to its black hole vastness, realizing how much room you have in your heart. Though, for me, the hardest part is opening up your heart to yourself and allowing yourself compassion. Or actually, just allowing yourself to be you and not focusing on everything you have to do, places you have to submit, chores, writing assignments, and the list is also a blackhole. Can you tell I've been reading the chapter on point of view in my fiction textbook lately.

Yesterday I told one of my friends how much I respect and admire her. She's an artist and a mother and I think often gets flack for not having a "normal" job and not producing enough of her own art. She amazes me and we're going to start collaborating on the dance/writing piece we've been talking about. We're going to work on it Thursday mornings and sacrifice some sleep for it! I'm trying to get back to the art for art's sake mode and not feeling like everything has to have a tangible outcome.

So far, I've written two short stories and surprised Jonathan last night with my new more fun process not product ideology.

I like this idea of opening up one's self to all that is out there---so that's my New Year's resolution---to try more things (hmmm, maybe this will be the year Ramona will try meat???) and to be a more open and willing person.

It's all about the Donut

A new donut shop opened up in my neighborhood. It's called the Fractured Prune---though today I had oatmeal, the kind you have to cook. And speaking of cooking...

Sandra Says I'm It

Since Sandra tagged me and lately I’ve been thinking about how poetry can become a career---though that whole concept seems a little oxymoronic. I remember when I just wrote poems because I liked it and I had no intention of publishing. I don’t even think I was aware that you could write a book or how one would go about that. And I certainly didn’t know anything about literary journals. Especially after Erika told me there were only 22 tenure track positions this year, I kind of miss my blissful ignorance. I’m actually thinking about some other options---things that I would like to do and since the new year is approaching, I figure I may as well investigate. I’m thinking about an MFA in fiction, going to culinary school, and doing yoga teacher training. I’m slating the yoga for June right now and the rest, I’m going to have to investigate a bit more.

The first poem I remember reading was William Blake’s The Tyger. Those lines haunted me and I kept repeating them to myself. Almost like an incantation, though I don’t know what I was trying to bring up. It was just magical. I may have to go back and really start thinking about my own syllable counts.

I was forced to memorize numerous poems in school…not so much. Only lines from Romeo and Juliet and Macbeth. Also, the Declaration of Independence. And all states and capitals. But the best was Mrs. King, my 6th grade English teacher who taught me the famous preposition song!


I read poetry because I do. There is just something magical about a poem, but I think I’m beginning to say the same thing about fiction. I enjoy getting lost in another world. It’s transporting to read.

A poem I'm likely to think about when asked about a favorite poem---Jane Kenyon’s Otherwise. It reminds me of all the possibilities---how your life can shift, that there are always options.

I write poetry, but I think there are too many presses and journals and too many people involved in the poetry business. On one hand it’s great, but on the other, until it becomes more mainstream, I wonder how many people will really succeed at making poetry a living, or perhaps we’re not supposed to.

My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature---I don’t think it does.

I find poetry more often than I find the Afikomen.

The last time I heard poetry was a podcast of a Billy Collins poem from somewhere in Illinois. It was a poem and then a jazzy rift. I’m getting more and more into the tech world and so I think I’ll end up listening to more poetry than reading it myself and I’m wondering how I’ll handle the shift from the written to the oral.

I think poetry is like a blackhole. The deeper you get, the more lost you are. Though I was never one who was good at directions.

And now, I tag Reb! Cause I know she likes these internet quiz type of things.

Deranged Cleaning Tip

When you don't have a vacuum cleaner, a long piece of masking tape works. A long strip and pivot until you've gotten enough crap off your floor! Silly me, I opted for a happening new bag instead of the sweeper for the holidays. The payoff, a muted oranged leather purse that I can carry books and folders in! No more backpack for me! And with new haircut, perhaps the number of times that I'm confused for a student will substantially decrease.

I'm revising my syllabus for the spring---the add ons, semi-blind workshopping and poetry dates. This way, they can explore more of the city and use DC as a landscape. I'm a huge fan of going out and putting yourself in a new environment and hoping the inspiration will hit. Think art and jass! I'm also going to try more tech-ie things---using pod casts and recordings in class. Jonathan got me a hot pink nano and I intend to use it!

New Do

Finally done with grading. Though I procrastinated long enough to write a short story and to wonder if I should try writing more fiction. I've been trying to resurrect some old work, but I don't think it's working. So, tomorrow it's back to creating new work. My goal is to have three short stories by next year at this time. So, I'm 1/3 of the way there. As if I didn't have enough projects already.

I'm beginning to think I don't have any follow-through or that I always feel compelled to be working. I wonder if that's a generational thing or just a Jewish OCD thing---what is it that makes us (or rather me) so driven? Today I thought maybe it's city life, that being part of this frenetic pace is part of it. Living in a city has definitely made me more concerned with fashion and perhaps even success. It's funny, one of my students wrote a short story about a girl who was reassessing her life at 27 because that seems to be the age in which one thinks about these things. At least that's what the character reasoned. I don't think she was aiming it at me, but it hit a chord.

Perhaps it's that time of the year again, almost New Year's and time to start making goals. Mom always says she's worried about me because I always seem so flip---no need to worry about it now---that I don't have any real definitive goals except to write, teach writing, and be happy. And it seems like I'm constantly coming up with 1001 ways to do all of these things. Or maybe it's my new haircut--that somehow a physical change is symbolic of something that is going on inside, or maybe, just maybe, all of this hair dye has gone to my head.

In Defense of Creative Writing

I remember when my grandfather used to kid me about taking creative writing courses instead of math or biology classes. And then there was my father who wanted me to take more business courses. I didn't give in. I rounded out my English major with Poetry I and Poetry II. I graduated college and headed straight to NYC for my MFA in Creative Writing. And now, first book, and teaching creative writing at GW and then one of our colleagues from the English Department publishes this in Le Culte du Moi.

I agree that students need to be exposed to great writers---which I think most of us try to do in our classes. And through reading these "great" writers and asking our students to do immitation exercises, perhaps they will appreciate the struggle and choices writers constantly face with language. I myself often struggle with finding a "how to" method that will resonate the most with students, but what I have come to find out is how important it is for each writer, each student to understand their own "practice" of writing and how important it is for them to look at every piece of writing with a "how to" persepctive. How does this author create dynamic characters? How does this poet use rhyme to make her verse more modern? I often find myself teaching writers from a diverse a background as possible, not just the greats, but helping my students find greatness (or something else---as we can learn from everything) in all types of writing---including their own.

Students usually tell me that peer review and class critique is one of the most helpful aspects of my class. One student even told me she liked the work of her peers better than some of the authors we read. I remember in college when my favorite writers were my peers. I liked nothing better than going to Open Mic Night at the Brady, and no, it probably wasn't the best writing, but it was ours.

What Professor Soltan has failed to acknowledge is the importance of this type of environment that encourages students to connect with each other, and honestly engage in the process of writing (and yes, a bit of self discovery) promotes interest in the more "serious" writing courses, that our students become more active readers while becoming better writers.

After returning from the student open mic tonight, I'm reminded of the good work that we do. The work read by our students was very impressive. And as a writer, I know that this is something that cannot be quantified or qualified.

Sick, Happily

A bit under the weather lately. Happily, I have some good reading to occupy my thoughts. The latest issue of The Sun arrived the other day and today in my email, I happily received this.

PUT IT ON!!!

You know you're getting old when...I remember the first time I criticized the clothes girls younger than me were wearing. I was in a mall in New Jersey (this was when I was in grad school) and commented about the micro-mini fad of the time. But, it's getting worse now---especially watching mtv where young people get drunk and make out. Though, I often see all of that live at the Rouge, last night no exception. At least no one threw up! And where are the roll models? Of course, right here:

"Young Hollywood’s Crack Pack" (courtesy of The Liquid Muse) as they've taken to sporting mini skirts commando, ensuring the world a steady supply of not-so-necessary crotch-shots. Lindsey’s privates hit tabloid headlines twice in the last month - and now Britney has joined in. (Wasn't she on a "classing up my act" campaign??) Ladies, for chrissakes, wtf? Put on some freakin’ panties already!

Even the professional escort there last night knows that!

Red/Moral/Disorder

Tonight is the big AIDS benefit at Rouge. Some come on out---last time, Miss Universe was there. I don't think she's in town this time, but it will be a night of who's who in the DC party/benefit scene.

Things are winding down, the semester and Monday was the last Burlesque of 2006! I'm really looking forward to some down time---time to focus more on my own writing. After teaching fiction, I'm getting antsy to try my hand at short stories over the break. I really like the structure of Margaret Atwood's Moral Disorder---a series of interconnecting stories. The way she explores the relationship between Nell and Tig---well, you really have to read it for yourself. I think Atwood is one of the authors who shaped me in college. I fell in love with her female characters and her strange feminism, though here, it's more muted and tangible.

Upside Down Turkey Dog

Marissa made her sticky bacon for me with turkey bacon while she's here visiting. Gobble gobble. As if there wasn't enough good food lately. Aunt Sue cooked up a storm and Mom invented Buckeye cake! Today Sandra encouraged me to get my book on the shelves of Politics and Prose so hopefully, they'll order. After Matthew Zapruder's reading tonight (which was awesome---he had a great metaphor for teaching poetry---comparing it to mechanics, of looking and tinkering with an engine. And his new book, full of poems I wish I had written. He was completely inspiring--when hearing someone else triggers so much in you, you know why you write in the first place), we took a gander at the shelves and came up empty. So she walked me back in to meet the host of the event and tell him about the steam sequence. Now I know why I call her Ms. Beasley, b/c she means business!

And here's business my way: I just sold my 100th book on my own (last night's bar shift of 3 books got me there)! Though I still feel very green as Sandra and Erica seem to know a whole bunch more about this poetry business. Job market, bah...no wonder why Maj said he wanted to plant his roots somewhere. It makes your life a whole lot simpler, knowing that you don't need to pack up your bulbs every few years and start over. Lately, I've been feeling like I've been doing a lot of skimming. Of gracing the surfacing and tasting but not lingering. Jonathan said that's life. I feel a little out of balance. I have at least two readings every month until I don't know when. And just found out I'll be reading at the KGB right after my birthday, Feb. 19th! No wonder why I'm spinning. I've also been travelling so that means less yoga so no wonder.

The Dark Side of Ramona

Uh-oh, I think some of my students found my blog. Now they're all going to learn how strange/lame/human I am. I think we all fear this in a way. As artists, we have to put it out there, but simultaneously we're all a bit scared about that. Someone once told me that getting recognized is more how hard you work your own PR. I'd like to hope that's not true, but I do know one has to work at getting your stuff out there---isn't that what online dating is all about anyway? You need to put the energy out there instead of waiting for something good to come your way. Though I wonder if it is more satisfying if something good comes your way more as if by chance or accident, rather than your constant plugging away at something.

I just found out over the weekend that there is a book group somewhere in Maryland interested in reading the steam sequence and that they're going to buy 20-some copies! And invite me to come and talk to them! That made my Saturday.

And today I went to the Kennedy Center for the first time to hear the Washington Chorus---they had sponsored an elegy contest and one of my former students won third place with her fugue that she wrote and though Cristina wasn't there as she's abroad this semester, it was still so moving to see her poem published in the playbill---though the spacing was all messed up so they could get it to fit on one page---instead of the short Neruda-like sharpness down the left side of the page. Regardless, it was still wonderful.

I was fascinated by all of the body language and movement and ritual associated with a symphony and was intending to write a poem about the harpist, but instead, Ramona was baking brownies and when I went home, it became the darkest one yet. Even Jonathan was freaked out.

Though I think it is a good thing as there needs to be movement within the series---she can't sustain herself on food/sex puns forever. Sometimes the chickens need to hatch in the middle of your Betty Crocker. MMM----good thing I let Jonathan do the cooking tonight. The conservative and even keel pasta with chicken sausage as our offering for the potluck.

Good Weather

Last night Rachael Baird, a former student of mine almost made me cry before I read--it was the most meaningful introduction I have ever had and the reading was lovely. 118 people were there---mostly students I think fulfilling a reading requirement, but hopefully we didn't bore them to tears, though cousins Neil and Leslie were near the back and said, nope, they were all rapt. Though, your family will never tell you that you suck to your face so who knows :) And dinner and drinks with colleagues, and having so many current and former students there further gelled my feelings of belonging here in DC at this time (though yes, I know, one can plant their roots anywhere and flourish) and somewhere in the evening it came up that in the future GW may do away with some general education requirements (like fine arts and literature) so there may not even be a job for me in the distant future if GW's new fiscal plans go through---going to a 4 by 4 where students only take 4 classes a semester that are worth 4 credits. Of course, I can't fathom why the university would want to cut writing and literature courses and claim they are not as necessary as the three sciences that are currently required (the English students were up in arms about this). I guess this is another portrait of academia---the deciding of what is important study, and of course, we will all claim that our field is universal and essential. But for now, it's sunny and the weather here is good and I have to prepare my notes for my Kafka lecture.

Let the Poets Eat Cake!

Ramona was well received today at the Library of Congress and it was awesome reading with Bernadette Geyer and Marcela Sulak. Though, how can a reading of poems about food not go well? Afterwards we went to Pete's for lunch---a diner serving burgers and Chinese food. Most of us opted for the Vegetarian Special. Ramona was happy, though she's not yet found a place in her heart for okra.

We ended up talking about (surprise surprise) the poetry scene in DC and how there are so many venues for poetry but that we don't mix that well. There's the more formal readings at LOC and the Folger and then the university readings, the slam scene, the avant garde, the northern Virginia, etc...so the question was, should we have less readings or how can we work to help each other out rather than thinning out the scene b/c we all agreed how vibrant DC is. (I had no idea I'd be agreeing with that after first moving here from NYC). And of course, time and the amount of work vs. the amount of financial support for it all is a huge factor. Anyone have any ideas?

What I do know, is that we are lucky---lucky to have all of this and hopefully, like today, we'll have our cake and eat it too! (you can get these cakes at Cake Love---the Magnolia of DC)

Where can you find me this week

Here's where you can find me:

On Tuesday, November 14, "Delicious Poems about Food" will be read at the Library of Congress by guest poets Carly Sachs, author of THE STEAM SEQUENCE, Marcela Sulak, translator of MAY by Czech poet Karel Hynek Macha, and Bernadette Geyer, author of WHAT REMAINS.

The reading will be held from noon-1 p.m. in the Pickford Theater, 3rd floor, James Madison Building, 101 Independence Ave., SE. It is free, and tickets are not required.
Capitol South on the Blue and Orange lines is the nearest Metro stop.

For any last-minute information, please call 707-0362.

And also new poems on MiPO!!! http://www.mipoesias.com/Poetry/sachs_carly.html

A Shift in Energy

My psychic energy was working double time last night at the bar! Some guy ordered a gin and tonic and then disappeared on his cell phone for an hour or so and I thought, I wonder if he's going to come back and pay for his drink. Right after I thought that, he came back. Then I started talking about Kitty Victorian and the DC Burlesque scene to a guy at the bar and then in walks Kitty. Then this guy came up to the bar and I thought, here comes trouble, and sure enough Shannon and I broke up a fight (well, more Shannon). I usually play good cop. Then it was time to close and I was hoping the people in the booth would leave and just as I thought that, they got up and left!

Yesterday I was feeling a bit down or overwhelmed with everything---perhaps it was the weather and class was really low energy and then I fell down the stairs (no one saw, luckily) but I took it pretty metaphorically. But like Rob always says in yoga, sometimes you need to fall to learn. (And on a side note, mom's going to do yoga with me when she comes to visit!) And now today it's sunny and my flower guy was there so I have some yellow daisies and orange lillies! And I'm actually feeling less crazy, though perhaps b/c I finished my Jenny Moore application which I'll drop off tomorrow and new poems were accepted by MiPO and I have the new Justin Timberlake CD! Publication, flowers, and hip hop---three ingredients for a happy poet!

Pen Is Envy

Tonight I went to a talk at Borders with Margaret Atwood and some guy from Book Expo who interviewed her. I think I would have liked it much better if she actually read, but the conversation was interesting because I came to know her a bit better. She's much funnier and much more real than I had expected---what most fascinated me is how she taught writing in the Arctic Circle for Inuit women---she doesn't just have feminist themes in her work, but she does the work of feminism. I had forgotten how good it felt to go to a reading by myself. Though right away, I ran into two former students and got to hear all about what's new with them (both taking more writing classes!). Now, when we have the Creative Writing Major/Minor dinners, I'll have former students so that is super exciting. And what was even more exciting was telling Margaret Atwood how her line "Pen is Envy" had become an inside joke with Gillian from Dr. Winebrenner's class while she was signing my book. She gave me her "best"---which I suppose one has to do when there's about 200 people in line. Oh, how I long to write best (actually I don't) and so I end up trying to scrawl these crazy things in people's books. Maybe I'll write Pen is Envy and all my Best when I sign the next round!

Why I Was so MIA from being online This Weekend

Jonathan surprised me on Friday by taking me to a mysterious location (Harper's Ferry) but I didn't know it until I saw the sign on the highway. We had a relaxing time and stayed at a cute bed and breakfast that was actually more like someone's home---this couple around our age who seemed to have a real estate empire. He restored and rebuilt and she sold...and he made blueberry and wild rice (separate) pancakes.

It was nice to slow down a little and walk in the woods. The ground was covered in these beautiful yellow leaves and I love it when the air has a bit of a bite to it, but it's still sunny even though you need a winter jacket. On Saturday we went to the Breaux Vineyards and found some great wines---a Merlot and a late harvest and I got this great shirt that says "wine diva" on it and so I wore that to Rouge.

I also had my tarot cards read and I can say that good things are in store. I'm not sure how much I really do believe, but good news is always nice to hear.

Brownies

I think I have blog block---I honestly don't have anything particularly exciting. I did have a mystery meeting on Tuesday which could perhaps lead to something interesting and poetic, but I will leave you in suspense lest I jinx it. I've really just been trying to focus on the present and was delighted to find a thank you note from one of my former students for writing him a study abroad letter of rec. In Jan. he'll be off to study in Ghana! And then met with another one of my former students who will be introducing me at my GW reading. I'm very excited for this and the dinner with other faculty and Anna and my introducers b/c this will be the first dinner that students can have with the readers. That was one of the things I loved about Kent. And this morning I made Peanutbutter Brownies for class---the final in class poetry reading and to kick off ZZ Packer's Brownies. Yes, I am that cheesy! Or should I say chocolate-y!

The Monday Memo

While I'm writing this, Reb and PF are at the costume shop so it should be a Burlesque reading filled with tricks and treats! I won't be donning my white body paint as I did on Saturday to transform myself into the statue of Venus. But I'm sure they'll have some goodies for everyone.

I made organic brownies last night---Whole Foods is too ritzy for Duncan Hines I suppose and I added some choc. chips, chipotle pepper, and ginger to the mix to spice it up, but still, I think it is the preservatives that make the brownie...they were good, but not Good. However, the risotto was a hit.

I also won 7 bucks last night at co-ed poker. I'll put that toward's the poets' drink fund this evening :)

Notes from the Butterfly Princess

Just a few quick lines before I run off to Teaism to meet Sandra before tonight's reading at the Folger---

I think my students are really getting poetry now, now that we're almost done with it. I think today's class was the most fun as they got to present their poets and give us writing assignments. Students who don't normally share in class are all about sharing now. Especially when they can be ironic and nasty. Thanks to Joe Wenderoth and his Wendy's poems. We all wrote about the restaurants we regularly frequent. And the thoughts that we all have but never share...oh, contemporary poets, who give us these freedoms...Thank goodness we also had Whitman and Henry Taylor for some balance. What I liked about today's class was how much fun it was, and how much they opened up to each other---perhaps they should teach more often!

At the gym, I thought about all of this and how happy I am here---bartending and teaching, how this is enough for me right now in the midst of applications and whatnot. I'm beginning to embrace this duality more---though 30 is my age to re-evaluate the current employment options. Though once I say this, I'm sure something will cause me to wonder---as Jonathan says, I'm fickle---every day a new dream, a new neighborhood, another fairy-tale I dream up for myself.

And now the princess with flowers in her hair closes her laptop and walks out into the rain thinking of jasmine tea and poery...

Hearth Mother

Something about this time of year makes me want to cook and bake...when the air is chill and you want to be inside and warm. This morning I made a butternut squash soup with the leftover gigantic squash from the pizza. I think it's my new favorite vegetable because you can do so much with it. While cooking it down, it gets a mashed potato-like quality so perhaps squash sculptures are in the near future. A man Ramona can mold from her bare hands then melt into soup. I cooked it down with garlic and onions and salt and pepper and then added the broth and some rosemary and thyme. The recipe called for a blender but it was already so tender that I decided a bit of chunks would be good. I thought so and I'll have to see what Jonathan thinks. He's going to have a late night at the office so I took him some soup for dinner. Said in an ironic Donna Reed falsetto: Here's your dinner dear! And tonight Katelyn's coming over after yoga so I whipped up some cornbread batter and when we come back, I'll put it in the oven. I don't know why I'm getting so much satisfaction out of making things lately, why this new frenzy of cooking, but I think it's a sign. First comes the food, then comes the poems.

Squash Surprise

I just got back from teaching a "Master Writing Class" at Woodbridge High School. It went very well. It made me remember what it was like to be young and into writing, but not really knowing all that much, say that people could be a "poet" and what you had to do to become one (sigh). I also forgot how fun it can be when you really get people talking and to use their dreams/nightmares as a place to enter their writing. It was good to get out of my own head and just talk with them about what it's like being a writer---yes, i have another job, no I don't wear a cape. One girl even asked if I was "with" somebody. Ah, to be young and allowed to ask those questions and to have things like nail polish drawn on with a black sharpie because your mom won't let you buy the real black nailpolish!

Last night I made a great butternut squash pizza which I promptly housed when I came back. All you do is bake the squash with some onions, olive oil, kosher salt, and black pepper---then put it on the pizza crust with some ricotta cheese and mama mia!

Wait a Minute, Maybe my dream is Here

A lazy Saturday makes me rethink---though maybe that's not the right word. Today I recorded my poem from Beltway Quarterly for WETA along with some of the other poets in the DC places issue. Seeing Kim Roberts again, meeting Richard Peabody (of the infamous Barbie book) and hearing that Michelle Brafman won the F. Scott Fitzgerald Short Story contest makes me realize how good it feels to be rooted in DC. Maybe my seeds really are taking root here---and getting some emails from former students who want to talk about poetry--one even asked if I was teaching Poetry I (sigh, not yet). I suppose when you look towards one direction, there's always something that makes you look back. Right now I feel more like I'm playing Dizzy Lizzy, giddy with energy, the circles cycling. Not knowing which direction, but knowing it will all fall into place.

The Big Excitement of the Week

My dream job---teaching creative writing at Oberlin---the job posting was just sent to me today and since the deadline has passed, I'm scrambling to get it all together. When people ask me what I wanted to do, Oberlin was always the place that I used as a reference, a small college like Oberlin...so send your good karma my way that I can pull off a decent letter and get everything in asap.

And I had a great class today with teaching odes---I think it was the mysterious bags I passed out filled with something they should write an ode about. I think finally today my students saw so much joy and fun in writing. Perhaps I'll introduce these odes earlier next semester. I'm looking forward to reading Ode to Ranch Dressing, Ode to Plastic Silverware and the like...

and finally, Justin Timberlake tickets go on sale tomorrow!!! Yes, I am 27, just so we're clear.

Fish Returns to her Five Foot Pond

Yesterday I got some great advice from a friend---why be the biggest fish in the small pond, when you can be the smallest fish in the big pond---let the others bring you up to their level---and then Richard who comes into the bar every so often noticed that I always look down when talking about my book and what I'm doing. And here, I thought I was good at shameless self promotion. Well, good enough to sell two books at my bar shift! And for some reason, I was having good poetry karma as Richard is an avid reader and next to him was Dan who got his undergrad in creative writing. Richard also gave me a letter from Lawrence Ferlinghetti about subletting his house in Big Sur. I'll tack that right next to my photograph of Gertrude Stein! And Ohio, what can I say. It's always amazing to go home and to really feel connected to a place and the people there. Just having Gillian, Krista, Jon, and Melissa there meant so much to me. And of course reading with Gianmarc---to have a friend there right along with you experiencing this book adventure. And Brian Taylor who wrote a Carly poem for the open mic. And my family, who got to see this other world---my grandma who listened to some guy read about getting beat up and dropping f bombs in the basement of Mac's and saying she was glad she got to experience all that, well, that was reason enough. And Jillian's wedding on top of all of this. To move through time with those we love and watch them grow and change. I could rattle off a ton of cliches now, but I think Jonathan said it best when I came home---I looked so relaxed and content. Which I think is pretty good considering how busy I am---in the thick of readings: Saturday on the radio, Sunday the Writer's Center in Bethesda, and Monday at Woodbridge High School in VA. Swimmy, Swimmy!

Off to Ohio

Yesterday's word of the day was fierce. That's how I feel, getting all of these submissions for the anthology and having email exchanges with all of the poets who are offering up their lines for my consideration. It's thrilling really, to have such warm responses and such support for what I'm doing. I had spent all yesterday morning with permissions before going to yoga. I really feel like I'm making progress, finally doing what I had imagined when I was in college and wanting to make poetry a profession. I may have been a bit naive then, but I think I'm as close as I can right now. Even had a good bar shift last night and today it's talking about repetition---how fitting to read Paul Celan and Sylvia Plath on Friday the 13th. Then it's off to Cleveland for my readings. Poetry midwest jet-setter!

the why and later update

It's one of those sunny late fall days when you just want to be outside---when you feel re-energized. While walking home from the gym, I had three messages from Markk who thought we were meeting today in Coventry---ah, if only travel really was that easy, but next week we'll be talking about the anthology and with any luck, I'll have two books out in a year. It's been a long time coming but my undergraduate thesis is going to be in print soon. And having the experience of my own book come out is going to shape a lot of what I do with this one. I'm trying to think of what I want the cover to look like---any input would be great. What kind of cover would one want on a book of poems about rape and sexual assault? I'm thinking something abstract but simple, something perhaps more understated. I'm still waist deep in permissions, but it's nice to know, we're ready to roll forward with the next phases. Maybe just a simple photo of the sun on a day like today, maybe something with a flower, maybe something with a fence and a field, something Ohio? Maybe even one of mine...I just dropped my film off and will pick it up when I come back from Ohio. These are the things that strike me today.

A Nod to Sylvia

I think I recall a line from Plath that went something like: Today is a good day to die. Today was actually sunny and nice and I lost my caramel apple to a bee, but a small price to pay for a day at the farm, homemade cider, and an oblong pumpkin to sit outside my door. Leave it to Reb to get me in the morbid poet girl mentality. Check out the quiz---what will your obituary say about you at Quizgalaxy.com:



Remind me never to give this as a writing prompt...sheesh!

City Girl, Country Girl

Bryan Gattozzi said that writers write about four things: place, love, death, and work at our reading at the jailhouse in Fred Fuller Park this past Thursday in Kent. Going back reminded me of what the Ohio poetic is---the praise of the landscape, of flatness and sun, winter and industry. One of the scholarship winners had a poem with a line about carrying Ohio in her eye. Going back made me realize, I have it in my eyes too, even though I think I have shifted away from a certain kind of narrative, there is a thread of images, trying to tell a story in some way. Alice and I talked about community in her office and what it's like when your radius is a small town, how you run in to the same people, how you naturally have the seeds, and yes, you have to nurture them, but the soil is good. The bigger the place, perhaps the more you have to tend. Jillian really loves Kent and after walking around in the community garden at the apple orchard, I can see why. And late at night, watching the clouds roll across the moon at my father's, and the sun set while driving with my mother, I can think of nothing better than an Ohio sky. Here is where I come from:

http://media.www.stateronline.com/media/storage/paper867/news/2006/10/05/News/Poetry.Scholarship.Winners.Share.Winning.Works-2332387.shtml?sourcedomain=www.stateronline.com&MIIHost=media.collegepublisher.com

and

http://www.stateronline.com/media/storage/paper867/news/2006/09/11/News/Wick-Sheds.Light.On.Fall.Events-2264743.shtml?norewrite200610070531&sourcedomain=www.stateronline.com

Sorry for the lack of linking--the anti-virus is preventing pop ups and I haven't quite figured out how to remedy this on my computer yet.

Though I have to say, I think I've found something here in DC--there is a DC poetic (Kim Roberts of Beltway put together a special issue of poems about DC) and Rod Smith and Dan Gutstein among others have an epicenter of avant garde (dare I use the term) poetics. For more on this, there's a great interview in this issue of Beltway. And then there's No Tell Motel and Burlesque with Reb, and Natalie has Mother Tongue and Washington Writers' Publishing House. I'm so lucky to have met Moira, Piotr, and now hearing about the Annapolis scene, so I'd have to say the soil in DC is pretty good too. Ripe for pumpkins, that's Sunday's plan.

Changes in Thai

Tonight Mom and I had dinner at the Thai Gourmet back in Kent, the place that I swore has the best food ever and which is why I don't go out for Thai in other cities that often...I always say, there's no place like Stow---in a way, I mean home, for this was the first Thai place I've eaten at. Home to college graduation dinner and many others. But tonight, only the soup was as good as I remember. And of course, our fortunes were lame. Mom was disappointed. Last night I told her about what I learned in yoga, how we are always looking at the world with dream glasses, so much that we are always putting our own spin on things. Rob, Mr. Yoga asks us to remove our dream goggles and really look around and see what is actually there. I think we often mis-focus and emphasize a part and not the whole. I tossed my leftovers in the trash on the way out. But sometimes it's not about the food, but the company and the conversation, that sometimes going out to dinner is not really about consuming food, but feeding another fire altogether. That maybe it isn't about the good Thai food, but the good times and good memories that linger, and keep you coming back to the table.

from the Baltimore Book Festival...

This weekend was my debut at the Baltimore Book Festival, the first time reading the steam sequence. I was super super nervous, but I think everything came across very well.

While at the festival, I had my handwriting analyzed. It turns out I'm a very erratic person and go through moods very quickly, sometimes I'm moody, sometimes I'm warm and inviting. I crave my own space and don't respond well to criticism about myself and am impatient. And I also have a hard time communicating how I really feel about things, What really amazed me is how long the line for this booth was, how fascinated we all are with ourselves and how much we want to know something more, find deeper meanings in our birthdays, our zodiac, numerology, handwriting, etc. We need explanations, rational and otherwise. Easpecially around this time of year (I'm about to head back home for Yom Kippur), I always find myself wondering if I'm doing alright, if I'm a good enough person and how can I be better next year. I'm also wondering what sort of a coincidence is it that the book is really debuting at the beginning of the Jewish year. Moira had brought some wine to celebrate and what I really liked about the festival was really her, her wonderful friends in Baltimore, hanging out with Piotr and Molly.

I also met the fiction winner, Denis, and I'm very excited to read with him again and to get my hands on his novel Nora's Army when it comes out in October. After the reading we headed over to the swanky engineer's club and he toasted me there and we all felt really good about books. And on another note, I'm also realizing I need to watch what I say here as I found parts of a blog entry quoted in the Festival bulletin. It was the post about me having a poetry crush on Piotr and how wonderful it was to find someone near you whose work you really love and how you can get to know them if you're not too psycho or stalker-esque. Luckily for me, he was my editor so I didn't have to work any angles, I had a natural in. Before the reading he told me to pause. And afterwards, I got a big hug from him, from Jonathan, Moira, everyone. Something happened while I was reading that has never happened before---I felt almost trance-like, how the sequence read me, not the other way around. Something ghostly and beautiful. As if this woman I created could now speak.

A Nod to Janet...

Yesterday was a take control day. I decided, after some gentle pressing from my colleagues that I should apply for a few jobs on the mla list...so I did---sending them out today in fact. And Shannon and I didn't put up with any monkey business at the bar last night...no I will not "top off" your drink. No I will not comp. your drinks because you think you deserve to drink for free all night because you once did because your wife was our guest a few months ago. Since you want to be a big shot, you will tip us accordingly. We have an autogratuity button and if you decide to splurge on 6 or more of your friends, you will have to tip on that tab as well. And yes, we got complimented on our looks and more importantly our intelligence as artists. Brains and Beauty, imagine that. The lesson learned...if you act like you own it, you already do.

Poets Bare All...

or rather, some...check out the Burlesque

On the New Year

It's a new year, though it doesn't feel like it. Rosh Hashanah really snuck up on me---perhaps going back home to Ohio for Yom Kippur will solidify this time of year. I always end up kinda of sad, nervous, taking stock, and feeling excited about what could be in store in the upcoming year---and reflecting on how many changes have happened. This has been a big year and I think the next brings more. I've been listening a lot to my Erin Johnson cd lately---she lived next to me freshman year and was the Sarah McLaughlin of Heer Hall and I think of all of us around the piano in the dimly lit study lounge and building fires, of walking in and out and the music and how immediate it all was and now, how long the corridors of memory.

Just this week another one of my former students asked me to write his letter of rec. for a study abroad program. He wrote of how important it is for us to step outside of ourselves and become part of another culture, not just travel, but really contribute to the community in which you become a part of----his statement of purpose really touched me and made me feel part of something larger. I often wonder what it is to teach writing, if they get when we spend half of a class listing other words for red---and then naming objects and feelings associated with it, if this is a significant thing with a capital S. Last year at this time, I had decided it was time to really pursue the teaching and so I gave up the 9-5, became a bartender so I could teach more and I think that was one of the best decisions I've ever made. Soon after that I found out my first book would be coming out, and here it is and it all still seems so surreal, how far I've come from scribbling to candlelight and piano, how here I am, the same music, a cup of tea, and writing on my students' poems, thinking how much they sounded like me, almost twenty and so so alive.

The Bartender Tells All

Well, not me, but some of my colleagues expound. For a while, I've thought about writing an inside the bar post---so you know what to do or not do for a while, but it looks like a few others already have! So before you tell me to make your drink strong or try to hit on me with your lame-o lines or expect me to be your sole entertainment for the night, read up sipsters!

http://dcdrinks.blogspot.com/2006/09/your-bartender-hates-you-heres-why.html
http://www.jeffreymorgenthaler.com/moblog/index.php?p=294I'm not bitter and haven't been turned sour by the industry, I'm just a big fan of proper etiquitte. Sometimes people don't tell you those things, like having spinach in your teeth. You should know better!

Live Like a Rockstar

Another perk of my job is that I can meet wonderful people who are with a band and sometimes even get to be on the guest list so I can see the band...So after a night of mingling and drinking a little too much (I'm a two martini girl) and selling double the amount of books I had sold (I'm up to 61 now) I got to see The Black Crows. And then last night, a wine tasting dinner at Dino in my old neighborhood. Today it's pajamas and student poems.

Book Party

Sold two more books while bartending last night! Tomorrow is the book party, so come celebrate with me at Bar Rouge from 6-9 p.m.!

The Weather is Fitting

Five years ago I woke up to one of my roommates screaming "Fire fire!" I thought she was talking about something in the apartment so I tried frantically grabbing my most valuable possessions. Then she told me to look at the t.v. It's somewhat ironic that I got a new shower curtain with a photograph of the Brooklyn Bride circa 1950, the Towers on the left, tall and almost out of place now. Rob began today's yoga practice asking us to dedicate this hour to someone in need, still, something lost. It is grey and the sky is holding back the rain. Sometimes I wonder how the weather seems to fit with a moment, grey and like this when I went to the concentration camps, warm summer rains on first date nights, a chill fall air to walk home with someone you just met. But getting back to today, five years ago. I was taking my poem to be copied for one of my first writer's workshops of grad school. I was thinking that everything would be back to normal, and that night I would be workshopping poems. The woman in the office told me I was in the middle of a panic attack, that my body was in shock and that it felt it had to continue with the normal routine. I remember how still the city was. I went out for Chinese for lunch since we had no food and everyone was just quiet. I remember coming back to my apartment to look at walls with nothing yet hung, thinking that I was somehow being cheated of my MFA experience. My school became a triage center and everything was off kilter and could not be righted.

Good Morning

It's funny watching GG get comfortable in the apartment. This morning he actually crawled into bed--which really isn't a surprise as he's become more sassy in his relationship with the furniture. He likes sitting on the speakers and running across the coffee table. After about 30 minutes of that I decided it was time to go to the farmer's market. My purchases: basil, pears, and cheese. I came home and made waffles with some of the pears on top. Ramona thinks she may be up for some internet dating. Robert isn't panning out and she needs someone who will be there when she calls.

Wireless at the Rouge

The semester started and I think it's going to be a great one. Everyone really opened up on introduction day, so much that I barely had time to even start reading the poems with them. I'm glad that everyone was so open and I think a lot of trust was created and some walls broken down. I'm really looking forward to the photo writing assignment as it's always good to begin away from the self. We also had our famous faculty dinner and I am reminded of how lucky I am to be a part of such a talented and kind group of writers. I'm hoping this year we will be able to spend some time together more informally like we always say we will...but time, that crazy bird, always has us in flight. Then again, that's what I always think on Saturday---yoga, lunch, visiting the cats at the animal adoption in Dupont, and then Rouge! Though today I brought the laptop so I could blog from the bar (everyone else is playing outside). Stealthy me :) I suppose I should see what Jessery is doing. I hear something being shaken, not stirred!

I've been discovered

Last night one of Fred Pollack's former students came into the Rouge and overheard me talking to someone else that I was a professor at GW. Would that be a conflict of interest...to pass out poems and drinks? Hmmm...I make a mean Manhattan straight up, no metaphors please!

Balance

While in Ocean City, I was able to catch up on some good beach reading. A while ago---perhaps even for college graduation, my Aunt gave me a book of essays of writers on writing. The one I really loved was Gish Jen's Inventing Life Steals Time, Living Life Begs it Back--and it was about the dichotomy a writer experiences between the real world and the fictional world and how does one find a balance between living and writing. I think that's something so many of us struggle with---for we writers could always be writing, but how much of that writing will actually be worth it. Do we sacrifice our lives for our writing or do we sacrifice our writing for our lives?

With the book coming out, I feel like I'm at some kind of cross roads, though I would like to think, I'm just walking along and finding enough time to stop and smell the roses, but also walking briskly enough. It rained all day, a fitting end to the summer as I'm getting ready for a new semester. Tomorrow is my first day teaching and I have this excited nervousness that I can't seem to shake, that always pops up at this time. I remember it from college, even when I wasn't the one in charge. It's like a new page. I love the way the air smells. It smells like college. One of my best friends from college called a few days ago to tell me some exciting news, she's pregnant and I think even though how much it seems like I'm not that far removed from that time of thinking and drinking, we've come so far from those halls of Heer.

Off to Ocean City

As if I didn't have enough vacation already!!!

Demo Cat

Shannon brought GG over this morning so I could try out having a cat and someone can take care of GG while she is off galavanting in Spain. So far, he spent the morning finding all the good hiding spaces in the apartment and I spent the morning editing and typing up poems written on vacation. Then, right when I was finishing up, he came out and rubbed up against my leg and the desk chair. I feel like a real poet now. Maggie Anderson has a series of Black Dog poems, but I warned Shannon that there may end up being some Black Cat poems written.