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.