In Summary

Snippets from Brooklyn:

Used the men's room at Drisha with my rebel friend Rachel. The rabbi told us to. It was like Lilith Fair!

Have found that I have more time to work on things when I'm busy. I love the noise of the train and just all the lives unfolding around you. Privacy becomes redefined.

Today in yoga class a woman was discussing her divorce very openly before class. According to her, around 13 is the perfect age for kids to go through a divorce because they're old enough and young enough...

Had the best yoga class ever! I go here!

After class yesterday I got my favorite falafel and Magnolia cupcakes. Made an awesome dinner at home last night: Salmon with a honey mustard sauce, green beans and cous cous.

Am in love with Kate Blackwell's first collection of short stories. I'm at the last one and I'm sad this is the end of the book :(

Tomorrow it's back to DC for Yom Kippur...

Literary Life

I've been working on a new short story all week and I think it's finally come together tonight! It sort of plays with the idea of Midrash and is loosely connected to the Dina story in the Bible. Since I got some good news about another story getting an honorable mention in a short story contest, I've been on a fiction high. Though, this could also be beginner's luck.

Either way, I'm noticing how different fiction is---how much I've been thinking about it/Dina all week. Who is this character and why is she doing what she is doing. It's so different than poetry---or at least a single poem when you're not in book/manuscript mode. You write the poem and you're done---I'm definitely steeping much longer in my fiction.

But I'm also writing poems too! I have two Ramona's in the works! Maybe it's all this NY water or air. It makes the bagels and pizza better so maybe the same can be said for writing?!

I went to an amazing reading on Friday for Kate Blackwell and you have to buy her collection. I'm only one story in, but I can already tell that this is going to be one of my new favorite books. She is one of the most real writers---she said these stories have been with her for 20 years. And not only all of this, but the reading was at a swanky gym and all of us literary types got a coupon for a free week of membership. How amazing is this city?

Thoughts for the Rosh

One of the things that I'm thinking about for the new year is patience---how to be a better waiter. Yes, I've already mastered the art of cocktail serving and bartendering, but I'm talking about the more natural process of letting things develop without rushing them along. For the longest time, I thought it was best to accelerate and to excel, doing as many things as possible and getting them done as fast as you could. However, my second book---an anthology of poems women have written about rape and sexual assault has been over seven years in the making and is due out by the end of the year. It's been difficult for me to turn it over to the wonderful hands of my publisher, the many hat wearing Markk Kuhar. Even though I know he has it all under control, I find myself having a difficult time of letting go and always wanting to check in and push things along. I also find myself doing that with other people--always trying to be on top of things, sometimes to the point of utter annoyance. I picked up the phrase No Worries while working at summer camp a few years ago and people always ask me about it and tell me how laid back I seem. Which is a crazy contrast---totally chill and OCD at the same time! How is this possible?? I don't know, but that's me. Often my "no worries" is more of a reminder to myself. If I say it enough, maybe the worries will go away. It's my OCD way of being relaxed I suppose, always checking in with myself to see how I'm progressing towards not worrying.

Weekend Update

Here's where I'll be!

Poetry at Drisha

One of my first lectures at Drisha was a talk on this week's parsha (Torah portion). The portion is called Ha'azina (Deut. 32). What was really exciting for me was that this portion is written mostly in the form of a song or poem. Not that I liked the poem---though perhaps if I could understand the Hebrew, it may have been better---but it was exciting to find my art in the core of the text. What we talked about is how this poem is what was given to the Israelites to commit to memory---to become oral Torah---the poem takes on much significance, not just to be a reminder of the text---but to move beyond the text of the Torah, much like a good ekphrastic poem would do. What this means is that there is a key place for art and for the power of language in the realm of Jewish law---not that I doubted this---there's so much Midrash and room for interpretation. But this passage demonstrates the value of using the arts in correlation with Torah.

So Long Coney Island

Luckily Shana, Jonathan, Jack and I got to spend our Saturday at Coney Island---we had no idea that this was the last weekend (sigh, sob). We had some crazy times the last time we were there for the 4th of July when she had first moved in!


She remembers yards of rum and late night pizza runs. I have no recollection of the affair. So, this was Coney Island, the sequel.

T
The butterfly princess is back! And bad ass! The boys were equally bad ass in the arcade. Wee! Jonathan wussed out for the Cyclone---not so bad ass :(

But I still like him anyway!

Good News!

Sometimes you find cool things when you google yourself. This is my first longer review and it's been a year since the book has been published. Am I impatient? Is this normal? Either way, I'm giddy! Thanks so much galatea ressurects #7!!!

My First Day as a Fellow

Besides having a bit of a sinus infection, things are going swimmingly in NY! Last night I made my famous meatless lasagna with an argula salad, went to the gym with Jonathan and had lunch at another cute cafe---here's a question, why is everything so good in NY? What is it about food and interior design that is so superior here? Are New Yorkers that elite or that good or just have better taste in general? Anyway, we had sorbet and went to bed early. It's actually fun having the whole morning. Started reading Primo Levi's The Periodic Table on the train (did I mention Joan's house is a fellowship in and of itself?! and that my commute allows me to read about 50 pages a day! Maybe this is why NY-ers are superior--more time for reading, hee hee). I thought I had to be at Drisha the whole day, but it turns out, it was only for an hour or so, so I went to Yoga Works and had an ok class. The studio is much bigger and way more Manhattan than Tranquil Space or Jaya. It wasn't bad, but it just didn't feel right---ah well, I'll try more classes and wait to totally rule it out since it's only a floor below. Then met Jonathan for lunch at the ridiculous Stardust diner where the staff sings. Cheesy and fun, then took the train home, took a bath and a nap after working on a new Ramona poem about some bad ass burrito magic.

Snippets from Life in Brooklyn

Just returned from yoga class---Ben already remarked how settled I am---that I'm doing what I usually do, or at least trying to---just ate my same post yoga snack---yogurt and a smoothie. I had ordered from Fresh Direct so that there would be food in the house and that was one of the smartest things to do. Saturday we were able to have our first dinner at home: broccoli rabe and raddichio sauteed in garlic, lemon, and olive oil served atop spinach pasta with fresh grated parm. cheese. It was very green and very good.

One of the things about class today that I liked (there were many) was that she talked about the poses as art making. It's about the process, not the product. You don't need to get anywhere, it's the making that is the journey. It was a good and welcome reminder of why I am a poet---it's really only about you and the page.

Fresh Direct gives you free cookies for trying them! Right now I'm practicing restraint! There's a bowl of granny smiths next to me for encouragement.

Joan's house feels like home. I remember why I fell in love with the place when I worked for her when I was a grad. student. She's also got one hell of a cd collection (downloading them to my iTunes now). We also have a grape vine so perhaps there will be some wine making or at least grapes for the smoothies.

Found a great burrito place that delivers that kicks Chipotle's butt. Also found a great local bar and restaurant complete with beets and a sassy bartender, Gina, who also happens to be a bourbon girl too---too bad it's Maker's, Jack, and Wild Turkey. Ah well, you can't have it all.

Lolita Yeshiva-Bound

My last Take It Off before I head off to the world of long skirts and girls named Shoshanna! Guess which item Jonathan bought for me!!! You can put the girl in the yeshiva but not the yeshiva in the girl...hee hee.

It's really hitting me what I'll be leaving here, but in a way, it's not really leaving, it's more like a pause, though I know things won't be the exactly the same, but I'm hoping that the people that I love will still be in DC when I come back, but as we all know, opportunities and life comes knocking. I've been lucky to find all that I have here. Gilda, pink roses will always remind me of you now! Whether they're in a vase, or well, you know where!

August Poems

Perhaps a new direction for Ramona for those of you who know her---I had intended to be funnier and have more puns...like usual...

Grocery List

It’s more than the possibility of oranges and arugula,
the promise of endives, someone to hold.
Mystery is the banana ripening, the suggestion
of peeling, the melon ready to be cut, the juice
of a day running down your chin. It’s the sizzle
of letters, the garlic hiss of the pen as Ramona composes.
It’s not a list, it’s a lifestyle, a hieroglyphic
of recipes, raspberries born between your teeth,
the surprises she hides in fresh baked brownies
so you’ll remember her.

The chakra of potatoes sing to her in sleep so she writes
it down on scratch paper. It’s as if the foods are calling
her, not that she needs them, but they need her.
There’s a prophecy in her pantry.

She goes to open mics and reads her produce of poetry,
each item a secret, a kernel of memory, of strawberry
picking late summer, taste of childhood, of love,
the onions of possibility, layers and layers to peel,
a tear from long ago, something you thought
already shed. Hopes and idiosyncrasies to husk
and shuck off.

She’s a firm believer in the mantra: you are
what you eat. She breathes peanuts into the microphone
and it’s grade school lunches and baseball, homerun
of meatless protein, Thailand and Reese’s Cups.
A lemon is a door back to that stand where you saved
enough for your first dream, vinaigrette
of something foreign and familiar, kiss of sun,
small enough to hold in the heft of your hand.
In another time and place you’d be Rosemary,
the woman who will bake bread in the mornings
and sing when it rains.

Check Out These Naughty Boys!!

right here!

Grace Paley Passes

I think it was Honi Jeffers who told me I needed to read Grace Paley---she had made me a list of who I should read---Linda Pastan, Muriel Rukeyser, Rita Dove---Honi had known who would speak to me---she recognized that voice within me as a young writer and what it needed to grow. I heard Grace read here in DC---how still we sat at the JCC, hanging on to every word, our own hearts, silently nodding along as if she had reached into us and pulled out a story we didn't know we had.

She was the grandmother I think many of us younger writers wanted also to call our own. To read her work, was almost to be standing next to her at the stove or sitting next to her. She will be much missed, but she will live on through her words.

My Poor Cleveland Indians

Here are some photos from the Indians game---which they lost---maybe we had cursed the game by cutting through the cemetary to get to the stadium from where we parked!? We tried to cuddle up to slider during a boring inning, but that didn't help the Indians rally :(. Ah, well, tomorrow's Burlesque promises to be a guaranteed home run!

Wow! Five Hello Kittys!!!

I don't think I've had much luck getting formal reviews but when you get ones like this---it makes me remember why we write---not for the careerist in us (we poets can be quite the get it done frantic types---minus the investment banker salary) so thanks to Amanda who always reminds me where my heart should be.

Wednesday was our Fringe performance and it went over better than I could have imagined it---especially seeing JohnMark sign "Long Time Traveller" by the Wailin' Jennys. Which incidentally has become my new favorite song!

I'm Older and Wiser According to This!

Ok, maybe not wiser....

Intersections

Fred Joiner runs one of the most meaningful reading series in the city. It reminded me of readings in college---either the Wick readings or the ones at the Brady. This is when poetry was really about connecting with people and the world around you. It didn't matter where you came from, we all have that same well inside us. Last night was a reminder of why I write. I remember when Katherine wrote in a poem of hers back in college: "Maj has taught us to address things by name" and so let me say here, Sarah and Jehanne, to read with you was honoring and inspiring---I was so awed by both of your readings and so nervous to go up after you. Fred, the space and the environment that you are creating is already blooming. Last night reminded me that poetry was about life and embracing everything---the children, the struggles, the deaths, the music, the loves, and the language, each other.

I woke up with a poem this morning!

After the Reading

Anacostia sounds like
a Russian shtetl,
same beginning, same vowel
opening, ana, delicate
lace of streets, handiwork
of dreams as we writers
gather on good hope
road, mid-summer
DC cries Ana, the woman
I could be or the one
I won't be, or the one
I want to be.

Anacostia is my mother's
hand on my forehead
or the slips in her drawer
and trying them on
when she's not there.
Anacostia is lifting
what belongs to you
to your face and closing
your eyes.

What is the bridge between
hearing and understanding,
the difference between sympathy
and empathy? Ana, ana, a, a,
pastel blue, pink and
bone in my hand.

Stayin' Strong

That's what Cornell West said to me as I served him his Courvosier! Gotta love working at a place where the occassional famous person will make a cameo. Jonathan was a sweetie and ran home to get my copy of Race Matters so I could have him sign it! 10 Boyfriend points for him!

Just as I thought I was in the middle of a writing dry spell, something came back tonight at 2 Amy's. For dinner I had a rapini salad, shared the fried zuchinni, and had my own margareta pizza. The poem arrived with the blackberry cake.

Sandra has inspired me with her daily poems so I'm going to try my own version of it.

This is what I wrote on the take out box:

Rekindling

The blackberry cake
has eyes. We called it

ordinary. The blades
of the fan remind me

of wings, or rather, a bird
stuck in a house.

The crusts like bones
on my plate.

This is what remains:
tomorrow,

a day of leftovers,
last night's dinner

spun into a different
monotony reheated,

micro rays of it---
I don't know what

is harmful
anymore.

A hair brushed
to the other side,

the jeans arise
from the back of the closet,

the fit that surprises.

Hot Summer

Last weekend, I went to two bars---and found Hangar One Chipotle vodka! Great in Bloody Mary's and with chocolate for a Mexican chocolate martini---though I only had the former, not the latter.

We don't have it (yet) at Rouge but it seems like it would be a shoe in. I'm actually going to be a bit sad when I turn in my shaker for a Talmud---though perhaps I'll be able to find a good bar job in Brooklyn. Or maybe then I'll start work on my bartender poems...

Stray

Tonight a stray appeared outside the window. Or maybe he or she belongs to someone. Or maybe he or she is feral. Frank was meowing up a storm. I decided to feed the stray, who I've named New Kitty even though I know I can't keep him or her or even take her in. My guess is New Kitty has claws and poor Frank would have to sit on her to protect himself.

I'm trying to figure out if there's some meaning to this as I often feel like I dig or make paper chains, linking one event to another, an image, a sign, a conversation, an action, a feeling. I often wonder if this is a trait of a writer, to constantly be looking for links and meaning and how that affects our lives. Sometimes I think that what's good for writing is not always what is best for you as a person. I'm often in my head and it's good to get out of it. Today I swam with Janeil and watched a snippet of John Tucker Must Die and ate Chips Ahoy and Goldfish before heading out to a cute little French cafe with Sandra and Jonathan to play the part of the hip city crowd who talks about poetry and politics and drinks foreign beers and champage cocktails on lazy Sunday evenings. Honestly, I wouldn't trade either one. After all, the Sophia was in a can. That's my kind of classy.

So far, I haven't found a meaning for the stray, though I did get to meet a neighbor---Stephanie and her cute dog who were out walking and walked into my dilemma of what does one do when they find an animal. I called the shelter and they said that I'd have to bring the New Cat to them, there's no Prince of Cats to come and rescue them. Though, Stephanie seemed to think that having a cat around ouside to catch the mice from the dirty restaurants at the top of the street is a good thing. Tres Chic for us on Hopkins!

Mid Afternoon Rain

Amanda makes me want to be better---and her latest blog post explains why I want to write and what writing can do. Yesterday I was talking with Marcela about the poems you write because you have to and the poems for poetry audiences and the poems for your own friends and family and how often times these poems are not one and the same and never could be. Though Amanda seems to unify it all into something for us all---friends, family, strangers, all readers.

Something about her post speaks to something inside me---much in the way that Charlotte Kendrick songs do. Just saw her in concert and North of New York is a must cd for anyone---how someone can name something inside of you and just offer it to you without you knowing it was yours.

I would write something personal about Jonathan here, but I'm afraid. So I'll just say sometimes I just want to curl my arms and legs around him, but not in that way. In the way as if we were roots or potatoes, in the way of love being something not tangible that everything curls and sways in the dance of it. A memory of motion and semblance of holding.

I'm not yet at the heart of it. I'm trying to find my way back to a memory of who I was. Perhaps in Kent.

Outside is a storm. Frank is growling. In this way, I think we're sensing the same thing. I had been thinking of tears and now drops.

It's all coming down...

Last Night's Burlesque Photos

now, that's HOT!!!

How to Use Bananas

Ramona can tell you!

My Sweet Chick Pea

Even though Frank has a fun carrot to play with, he's not really a vegetarian. But I am and since I've gone veg. again, I've felt like I've had more energy. Though DC in the summer will keep you from eating heavy foods anyway. Lately, my favorite thing to make has been a chick pea salad. I mix a can with chopped parsley and dill, celery and red onions, kosher salt, and freshly ground pepper and either use fresh squeezed lemon and olive oil or red wine vinegar and olive oil.

Kitchens I've Loved

Sometimes I wonder how much coincidence and fate plays into our lives. When I was a grad. student in NY I met a woman who was an assistant to various writers about town. I thought that was my dream job so she told me that when she was offered a job she couldn't take, she'd pass along my name. Months later, I was working for Joan Larkin.

Grad. school was going rough. The poetry world in NYC was a far leap from Kent, Ohio, but as soon as I set foot in Joan's kitchen I felt like I was back in Ohio. The light was coming through the window. It was winter, you could see snow on the tree in her yard. I think we even had tea before we got started.

And now, years after that first day and wonderful job of assisting Joan, our paths cross again. While she's off teaching in Florida, I'll be cooking in that kitchen that felt like home so long ago.

It's funny how much time I've spent looking on craig's list and etc. trying to find a place, and here it was, already in my frame of reference.

Internet Craze

This morning, the internet went down and it threw me for a loop. I was going to have breakfast and relax at home and read my students' work via Blackboard. Instead, I had to actually put on shoes and head to my office on campus. What I learned is that I am much more productive when there aren't cabinets to organize, snacks to be had, laundry to do, Frank to play with.

So, I came home after reading everyone's stories and am back online--how it comes and goes is a mystery---but now, somehow, back online and procrastinating, I've stumbled across an Israeli poet and filmmaker who is my age---Netalie Braun. Here and here are some links. I have to find a way to see her film, Metamorphosis. Any ideas anyone?

First Book Interviews

You can find me kicking the wind today.

Frank vs. The Scale

Frank went to the vet today to get his shots and it turns out, he's gained weight...he's now a whopping 16+ lbs. And that's with eating diet cat food. No snacks or anything. Maybe Frank should start coming to yoga with me!

Ah well, he'll be in good hands with cousin Leslie while I'm off in NYC---no cupcakes for the Frankster though :)

Things are humming along with poetry stuff---working on Bruce's book, the anthology and WWPH stuff. I seem to be doing much more administrative things---even sending some of my work out, but not as much writing as I'd like---though I did manage to work on a poem for 30 minutes when I woke up. I still work off of sheer inspiration and lately lines have been coming to me. Nothing finished yet, but just lines all over the place. It's a poem about Dinah. And that seems fitting b/c I'm getting more ready for Drisha mentally I think.

Someone joked around about me becoming Shomer N'giah today. As if! But who knows, I have gone back to being a vegetarian and I've been in a serious relationship for over a year now and I know that's not where many of my college friends could easily picture. I was the Baskin Robins of dating back then. But after working on that essay about Suzy's wedding weekend, I've realized how much we have all grown, that we're not those girls who stay up reading and laughing and wearing slutty tank tops---though on occassion we will slip back to those days, we are not those same girls, nor should we desire to be them.

Frank is licking the last little bit of his kibbles---he crunches and I'm clicking the keys before I try to even figure out what I'm going to wear for the reading...

To Be or Not to Be!

Got the proof sheets from deep cleveland so the anthology of poems is one more step closer to being an actual book! I was trying to proof some while bartending last night but that proved to be too difficult to move from one emotional space to another. Even after sitting with these poems for seven years, I get chills reading them even though I know most of them by heart.

Friday night Jonathan and I saw Hamlet at the Folger and while it was really cool to see stage combat for the first time, I wasn't overly impressed with the performance. The way Hamlet was portrayed was really annoying---though perhaps any angst-ridden teenager wouldn't be all that likeable and overly dramatic.

I'm off to NYC to read at Bluestockings bookstore next Thursday! Magnolia cupcakes await!

Shameless Endorsements

My new favorite little spot in DC is Domku. I'm hoping to be able to get over to this cute cafe more often and get some writing done. They've got all the good Eastern European fare and beer so it will remind me of when I was the young expat writer in Prague.

I've also just ordered Rosemary Winslow's Green Bodies (Word Works) and Jehanne Dubrow's The Painted Bride (Finishing Line Press).

And I've found a new whiskey, Elmer T. Lee, though do they really need to have their web address be greatbourbon.com? Really!

I liked Jury Duty even though I didn't get picked for the case. Thanks to my end of the alphabet status. Finally it pays to be in the back of the room. I even watched some of the political debates this week. Hmm, what's going on?

The asana of the month is navasana, boat pose (pictured above)! I'm feeling a little iffy about it, but maybe I'll warm up to it like I did to marichyasana.

And Rouge has a new menu---and plenty of vegetarian and healthy options so if you haven't come to visit me at the bar, now you have a whole new reason to. Can we say grilled caesar salad, all kinds of sliders (mini sandwichs), main courses--yes! you can eat dinner here and the salmon comes with two sauces---spinach pesto and tomato. Not quite as good as my mango salmon, but after one dirty martini or perfect manhattan and you'll never know!

Shoulding all over my Saturday

David Lehman once wrote to me in a Letter to Younger Poets (published in Teachers and Writer's Magazine a while ago) Carly: The enemy of poetry is a should.

I'm not exactly sure what he was trying to tell me. Maybe he knew how goal oriented I was or how I always needed to be doing something, moving towards some greater goal. Which is funny, because I have never looked at myself as someone who was a "should" person. But when I take a step back, I realize I've always been an organizer, a planner and someone who wanted to do something. And lately, a lot of my friends have been pointing that out. Telling me I'm driven and successful. I haven't seen it that way. Instead of seeing where I am, I see where I "should" be. A part time teacher and part time bartender doesn't seem to be as successful to me as it does to them. Though maybe that's because I'm already thinking of the next step. The next should thing to do---be a yoga teacher because at some point the only time I'll wear tank tops will be on my yoga mat. Although, I'm not sure should goes with yoga and perhaps less than it goes with writing.

So, to stop shoulding, I had coffee with a wonderful writer, Michelle this morning and I'm really lucky to have someone older and wiser to bounce off life questions as well as fiction questions. I think one of the reasons I'm really into the fiction right now is that there's no pressure---no where to feel like I have to submit to yet. The goal is just to write. I miss that. I've been sending around a version of an essay to my girlfriends about where we are in life, and they've helped to reconfirm that we all need to stop playing the should game. There is no place, no dream job, relationship, apartment, house, etc. we should have. We should just be. Though really, who does that anymore?

After that, I met Jonathan at the gym and we sat outside and had lunch afterwards. He just finished cutting the watermellon for tomorrow's dinner party. Staccato cuisine---food inspired by poems with the word "staccato" in mind. I'll post more on this after the fact.

Oh, and I made the Wick news!

Good GABA!!!

Study Finds Yoga Associated With Elevated Brain GABA Levels

(Boston) - May 22, 2007-- Researchers at Boston University School of Medicine (BUSM) and McLean Hospital have found that practicing yoga may elevate brain gamma-aminobutyric (GABA) levels, the brain’s primary inhibitory neurotransmitter.

The findings, which appear in the May issue of the Journal of Alternative and Complementary Medicine, suggest that the practice of yoga be explored as a possible treatment for depression and anxiety, disorders associated with low GABA levels. The World Health Organization reports that mental illness makes up to fifteen percent of disease in the world. Depression and anxiety disorders both contribute to this burden and are associated with low GABA levels. Currently, these disorders have been successfully treated with pharmaceutical agents designed to increase GABA levels. Using magnetic resonance spectroscopic imaging, the researchers compared the GABA levels of eight subjects prior to and after one hour of yoga, with 11 subjects who did no yoga but instead read for one hour.

The researchers found a twenty-seven percent increase in GABA levels in the yoga practitioner group after their session, but no change in the comparison subject group after their reading session. The acquisition of the GABA levels was done using a magnetic resonance spectroscopy technique developed by J. Eric Jensen, PhD, an assistant professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School and an associate physicist at McLean Hospital. According to the researchers, yoga has shown promise in improving symptoms associated with depression, anxiety and epilepsy. “Our findings clearly demonstrate that in experienced yoga practitioners, brain GABA levels increase after a session of yoga,” said lead author Chris Streeter, MD, an assistant professor of psychiatry and neurology at BUSM and a research associate at McLean Hospital.“This study contributes to the understanding of how the GABA system is affected by both pharmacologic and behavioral interventions and will help to guide the development of new treatments for low GABA states,” said co-author Domenic Ciraulo, MD, professor and chairman of the department of psychiatry at BUSM.“The development of an inexpensive, widely available intervention such as yoga that has no side effects but is effective in alleviating the symptoms of disorders associated with low GABA levels has clear public health advantage,” added senior author Perry Renshaw, MD, PhD, director of the Brain Imaging Center at Harvard-affiliated McLean Hospital.

This study was supported in part by grants from the national Institute of Drug Abuse; the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism; the National Center for Research Resources, and the Gennaro Acampora Charity Trust to the Division of Psychiatry, Boston Medical Center.

Om! Orange!

In yoga, there has been much quoting of Thich Nhat Hanh. The first time I had read him was in Dr. Wattles' Intro. to Philosophy class freshman year of college. I had no idea what it was really about or even how to say his name. I was 18 and not very well read. But it spoke to me the most. It wasn't worded like Western Philosophy. It felt more like poetry in a way, more rooted in nature. It wasn't preachy and it didn't over simplify.

My practice today was full of ease. For the longest time, I didn't think I could bind because my arms seemed short to me---at least shorter than everyone else's. But lately, I've been able to do this pose here!

I'm learning that ancient wisdom of that little engine, that if you chug a little each day, you'll get there. Today we were reminded not to be tied up in the sorrows of the past, or to think too far into everything we have to do in the future. But to be in the moment and enjoy it.

Mark emailed me and told me were chugging along with the anthology and perhaps I'll even have a sample cover to post soon. And finally, good food and even better company in Chicago. Len and Jenn took Jonathan and I to Orange where I got to mix juice combinations to Ramona's heart's content.

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!