Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Dear twenty-ninth of April,
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
- 2 drafts to write of rather whiffy items
- 3 mash-ups of two or more poems that really should be a single poem
- 1 fat revision of a sorry-state poem
- 2 poems to decide whether they really need to be in the manuscript.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Also, Glen was way cute, way back when.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
1. slept the sleep of the (pot-sticker-making) just.
The first thing I wanted to do in the Bay Area was go out to Skywalker Ranch and ask George Lucas about a disturbing conversation we’d had at an Obama inaugural party in Washington.
Lucas, the creator of “Star Wars,” had told me that I had gotten Dick Cheney completely wrong, that Cheney was no Darth Vader. I felt awful. Had I been too hard on Vice?
Lucas explained politely as I listened contritely. Anakin Skywalker is a promising young man who is turned to the dark side by an older politician and becomes Darth Vader. “George Bush is Darth Vader,” he said. “Cheney is the emperor.”
I was relieved. In “Star Wars” terms, Dick Cheney was more evil than Darth Vader. I hadn’t been hard enough on Vice!
Lucas was on his way to Europe and didn’t have time to elaborate in person. But he sent me this message confirming our conversation: “You know, Darth Vader is really a kid from the desert planet near Crawford, and the true evil of the universe is the emperor who pulls all the strings.”)
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
To Christ our Lord
I CAUGHT this morning morning’s minion, king-
dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing, 5
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,—the achieve of; the mastery of the thing!
Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion 10
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!
No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
- go buy the scarf that you foolishly didn't buy yesterday because you were feeling sweaty
- wash the sheets
- load the dishwasher
- start reading a book that you recently bought
- download the songs you realized last night that you (a) did not have and (b) needed
- download various free song samplers from Amazon
- recharge and sync iPods to take account of newly downloaded &c.
- eat a cookie
- eat another cookie
- walk the dog
- eat lunch
- inspect the roses and admire the creeping phlox, which is blooming.
Monday, April 06, 2009
sweaty shopping excursion, ugh(Re the sweaty shopping: because I started to feel sweaty, I failed to buy a beautiful scarf that I am totally regretting at the moment. I hope no one else bought it before I get there tomorrow at 10 a.m., sharp, to snag it myself.)
after all that bravado, feeling: RELUCTANT to start anew on the terrifying poem.
But: back to the tedious story of me writing.
1. I got out my fat freewrite re terrifying poem.
2. I got out my ancillary notes on my fat freewrite.
3. I went shopping.
4. I took a shower to wash off the shopping sweat.
5. I ate my lunch.
6. I looked at my freewrites and ancillary notes. I took some more notes.
7. Exhausted from all the getting out and the looking and the note-taking, I lay down and finished my French detective novel.
8. I sleep-wrote.
9. I got up, slightly disgusted with myself for the self-delusional "sleep-writing" nonsense I was shoveling.
10. I WROTE A FRESH, FULL DRAFT OF THE TERRIFYING POEM.
Wrote and cried, cried and wrote. When he got home, the historian asked, "Are you okay?" I told him about the crying and writing. He said, "Yeah, you look like you've just been crying." I told him I had just finished the tear-stained draft.
And today, the writing--all of it--was very, very good.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
- the Latin of The Aeneid;
- several stodgy translations of The Aeneid;
- the lyrics to many New York Dolls songs;
- a discussion of Kant's Critique of Judgment by Lyotard.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Also, yesterday in the mail came a slim volume, the CD-ROM of Chris Marker's Immemory, a very poetic, idiosyncratic and gorgeous meditation on memory, which the user navigates in a highly poetic and idiosyncratic way. It only recently became available again--if anyone wants a demo, I'd be happy to share. It requires the Mac OS X to run.
Friday, April 03, 2009
- sleep a blissful little bit longer than usual
- have a bagel for breakfast with the historian
- work on my manuscript
- take B for a walk during a break in the snow--well, mostly a break
- go to the bank
- contemplate the spring and also the summer
- text various children
- go to bank
- slide a movie into late afternoon/evening plans (Adventureland--lovely, and excellent soundtrack)
- go to evening work event (very clever, to go to late afternoon movie! made the evening work event bearable and even enjoyable)
- write poem 3 of the Poem a Day project.
- say no to a large work-related commitment for next year
- make a lovely homemade breakfast
- completely get over my hot eyes syndrome
- complete textbook review
- write a textbook proposal
- do a crossword puzzle
- take a nap
- have very many conversations with Bruiser.