Friday, July 10, 2009

List.

If I am going to be gone for awhile, I should
  • change all the sheets for all the people who will be in and out of this house taking care of things and cats and dogs.
  • clean the bathrooms.
  • clean the kitchen.
  • consider how much cleaning could go on on a more regular basis at my house.
  • water everything.
  • make lots and lots and lots of lists of things to bring with.
  • go to the library to find that the new Elmore Leonard I requested is there for me. Score!
  • contemplate which poets will be the best advisors for my manuscript revision. Donne? Frank O'Hara? Alice Notley? the Psalmist?
  • bring all the cameras.
  • take my own oatmeal, oat bran, sugar, tea, oat flour, regular flour, salt.
  • contemplate if I need all my computer accoutrements, or just some of my computer accoutrements.
  • upload relevant files to my cloud.
  • mail off stuff (done!). Manuscripts, Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls (to Singapore), birthday gifts.
  • don't forget my external hard drive.
  • add more necessary songs to the iPod.
  • collect dvds to watch: The Wire, In Treatment, first season of Weeds, Deadwood. Oh yes! we will watch dvds!
  • try not to hyperventilate.
  • try not to freak out about forgetting something.
In short, the people, I will be in Idaho, working on my manuscript, chilling out with the historian, watching dvds, taking naps, and in general trying to cultivate a mind like a river. Wish me luck on the manuscript. There will be updates. Oh yes! there will be updates.

Thursday, July 09, 2009

Productivity report.

Today, I had breakfast with my friend Ann at the Blue Plate (Greek omelet, sourdough toast). I woke up with allergic eye, a phenomenon that is, if the evidence is to be trusted, going to be an annual occurrence. It starts with an itchy eye, which I then rub, and then I sleep, and voila, I wake up and scare myself in the mirror. When this happens, I like to worry about it incessantly. Today, I put a warm washrag on it and massaged my tear ducts and used eyedrops and checked it out a million times. Also, took healing naps. It's better, but I hated having to alarm my breakfast companion. However, we talked about everything under the sun while I wore my hair Veronica Lake-style, except curly. I'm pretty sure this helped.

Today, I read the book for my book group, Women as Lovers, written by Austrian, Nobel-Prize-in-Literature-winning Elfriede Jelinek. I bought this book months ago. I kept track of its location, since books in my house have a tendency to wander. When I received the book from Amazon, I read a page or two and thought, sweet holy Lord, this book is damn depressing, then laid it aside for a week or three months. And I thought about picking it up. And then this morning, I did. I picked it up and I read half of it. Here is my verdict: damn depressing. Scores 11 on the Depress-o-meter (out of 10).

Today, I bought a birthday present for my granddaughter. Don't tell her, but it is a family of horses playing on a playground. Actually little plush horses, with an actual plastic playground. It is the cutest thing ever and I wish I had had some tiny horses on a playground when I was little. Too bad all they had was rocks and Bubble-head Barbie back then. Lucky granddaughter!

Today, I had my book group at Martine and ate several expensive yet delicious little plates of food. The excellent salad had a Bleu d'Auvergne dressing that was subtle and suave. The shrimp was on a spring pea risotto cake and was bathed in some sort of divine jus. The desserts included grilled gingerbread as well as a peach-cherry jalousie. Yes. Jalousie. Are you jaloux? Because you should be. Jalousie is good.

And now I am going to bed. My eye is ready for it. Also, now that I have put away Women as Lovers, I can finish my L.A. detective novel. It is heating up and it is good.

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

A proposed new video series: let the people decide.

This morning, whilst eating pancakes.
Me: I thought of a new video idea this morning when I woke up. It would be called, "The Historian Explains the Difference Between Socialism and Communism." And you would explain the difference, possibly while you were eating pancakes.

Historian: . . .

Me: Just like you explained it to singing son. When we were in Yellowstone.

Historian: . . .

Me: There could be a whole series, called, "The Historian Explains."

Historian: That could be interesting.

Me: So, you'll let me?

Historian: No.

Monday, July 06, 2009

Alluring objects.

But first, this small discussion.

Today, I got an e-mail from Amazon:

I wracked my brain as to what my recent purchases of DIY project books (cookbooks? bookmaking books, maybe).

Okay, this maybe made sense:

I'm not sure what this even is:

This would absolutely be cool. Making a stuffed monkey talk? I'm in:
I am not sure, however, why Amazon thinks I would be interested in this:

But luckily for everyone who lives with me, loves me, lives in my neighborhood, and maybe for the whole world, I'm not.

Video, again with the stripes. This is about shoes:

The Mission. from lisab on Vimeo.

Sunday, July 05, 2009

Forth and back and forth again.

This is the summer of Idaho.

I have already been up and back and up and back and up and back again. The first time was an educational mission, where my folks showed us the ropes about opening the cabin for the season.

The second time was with my oldest friend. After all these years, we had never taken a trip there together. It was sublime.

This time, my brother and his wife were there, along with their daughter (my niece), my darling auntie Sal and her son, singing son and his lovely wife and child. There were:


Bison. Aplenty.

The baby.

Birthday cake.

Big rigs. And also:

Stuff blowing up in the sky.







Hope your weekend was awesome, too. I'll be back in Idaho soon, working on my manuscript and getting all chilled out before my school preparations commence. Won't that be nice?

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Keep that iced tea coming.

In megastore news:

• heat makes me cranky.
• the historian hooked up the swamp cooler.
• it needs to be replaced.
• we're running it anyway, because
• heat makes me cranky.

Also, who finds it annoying when things you want to read that should be online aren't? Well, I do. I am a full-on digital crank. With extra cranky on the side in the summertime.

Anyways, here's my video essay (who knows why we're getting stripes here? I don't). Hope you're staying cool.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Main verbs are my co-pilot.

A couple of weeks ago, I got some feedback from the editor of a press where my manuscript was a semi-finalist in their book competition. Back in late spring, I heard from that press--they wanted to know if my manuscript was still available, since it was moving on to the next level of judging.

I don't think I need to tell you how much more fun it was to get the first e-mail than it was to get the second letter. Therein, however, lies the tale.

So: the good news is that the editor found the manuscript of special interest, hence the comments she forwarded. She tells me that the screener found the word strong; the work engaged the screener poem by poem; it has interesting narratives that are imbued with feeling, awareness, and vigor of description. Also, my work has a clear sense of the stanza, skill with pentameter, and a reliable sense of cadence.

However: apparently I rely on the verbless catalog a little too much--"a pileup of nouns and adjectives without the syntactic tether of a main verb."

And the series editor had this to say:
In general, I agree with the reviewer's comments, although I didn't always find the diction pleasing. Often, I wanted to take out my pencil and delete excess words. Sometimes I felt that the poems were a bit didactic and heavy-handed in their themes and points of view. But there were many moments of excellence. I'm not sure the book has a solid narrative arc or enough variety. Possibly, it's not in the best order. Overall, I felt that the manuscript needed further refinement. I will be sending you some pages in hope that the editorial marks will be helpful to you.
This reminds me of the feedback counterintuitive and I got on the article we wrote for TETYC: "We like it! We like it! Now, cut it in half and radically change the focus." We were bummed and we waited what I guess was an excessive amount of time, because the editor wrote us and said, "We liked it! When are you going to send us the slimmed down, totally different version we requested?" This story has a happy ending, though--they're publishing it (after we cut it in half and significantly changed the focus). And we're very very happy about it. So happy!

So: okay. What to do with this feedback? I could follow it to the letter. The screener and the editor are both highly competent poets and readers, and their insight is definitely useful. You'll be glad to know I spent barely any time on defensive reacting (what? whaddya mean, verbless catalog? I'll show you a main verb!).

I did, however, think about entirely dismantling the manuscript. What the hell. This manuscript has been a finalist and a semi-finalist a lot of times (in various iterations)--why not? My tinkering and revising has yielded no better results.

Except, maybe it did--because getting this feedback is not usual, I don't think, for competitions.

Anyway, today was another deadline for a couple of competitions. So I spent the day with the manuscript. I didn't totally dismantle it. But I did try to look for: wordiness; verblessness; extra-explain-iness; teacherishness.

There's a part of me that thinks, I am finished with all of these poems. Let them either find their place in the world or crumble into the dust. But there's another part that finds these episodes of revision very satisfying. Apparently, I can still learn things about these poems by working on them, with direct but supportive commentary simmering away in the back of my mind. How about that.