The dark.

Darlings! I am officially at that moment of the year when it is 6:43 p.m. and I feel like, what, is it bedtime yet? So dark. Also: cold. And I feel a tad sniffly, like maybe there's a cold about to happen, because my sleep, she is all mixed up.

But never mind. Today, I added yet another item to my permanent collection of long cardigans (cozy division), and have spent time burrowing into the cinematic (not really) archives of my screencasts, only to come to the inescapable conclusion that

• although the screencaster seeks to make a durable instructional artifact,
• time and tide do transform the landscape of, well, everything, and lo the screencasts of yesteryear do in the cold light(-ish) of day seem veritably old-timey and unbearably dated, and thus
• the screencaster feels called to make a new one. Yes,
• a new screencast, on an old topic, but with new examples and less static slides.

Therefore:

• woe.

But never mind. Today for lunch I made a sandwich on a pretzel roll which, whoa, they are good. What was on my sandwich, you ask? Well! 

• since we're working in bullet points, it was
• melted gruyere and
• avocado and
• lots of little cut-up cherry tomatoes and
• Maldon salt (infinitely better than regular salt, I swear it!), and
• pepper, obvs, and
• arugula.

I made it

• open-faced

so that I could prolong the pleasure. And lo it was very good.

Also, I made a new screencast, and captioned it. And I made a

• list of the other tasks I have to do,
• none of which I have actually "accomplished."

So: good day.

Recently, my friend Ann, whose writing I have been reading for more than 30 years, true story!, asked me to answer these questions, called The Blog Tour. (you can read her answers here.)

1. What are you working on right now?

Right now, I'm revising a manuscript of poems. I'm writing new poems from time to time as well.

2. How does it differ form other works in its genre?

Hey, Blog Tour questions, when I read this question yesterday, it sent me into an existential crisis! How the hell should I know how it differs from other works in the genre? I can barely wrap my mind around these two facts:

• (a) I am a poet. And
• (2) WHY.

Welllll, it's a manuscript of poems. It still has some religion in it, which maybe is out of style these days? Or not. It is lyric. It feels urgent to me, and also late (maybe this is because I am getting older?). But in that it is lyric and deals with the usual lyric questions (beauty, joy/melancholy, death and loss, the persistence of song), I guess it is kind of of a piece with lyric poetry, that ancient art.

3. Why do you write what you do?

My answer to this may sound flippant, but it's true: because I can. Because I can, I do.

4. How does your writing process work?

I am currently not in much of a writing groove. But when I am, I more or less regularly write stuff down that I mentally tag "poem-ish" or "possibly poem-ish" or "smells like teen poetry." I have a document called "Daily Writing" that I write in semi-annually, which is where I record the poem-ish material. Sometimes--lucky times--a poem will come to me almost whole, or at least the whole gesture, or nearly the whole gesture. In that case I write it down, if I'm smart. I'm not always smart.

If I don't get the whole poem or the whole gesture, then periodically I go back through my notes and see what seems interesting. Sometimes, I take the interesting bits and create a new document to see if I can make something happen. Sometimes the "Daily Writing" document will give me an idea and I let that idea stew for a while, and then I see if I can make something out of that stewing.

I remember reading Stanley Kunitz, who said that when he was young he wrote all the time; as he got older, poems came to him less frequently. Philip Levine said that John Berryman told him, "When you are young, write everything that occurs to you." I did that, when I was younger. Right now, not so much is happening. But it will. I actually, now, kind of have faith in poetry. Right now, I am revising and shaping that manuscript. That is part of my process as well.

I am supposed to tag some of you, so watch out! I WILL TAG YOU.

The chapbook, etc. commences.

Last week in Publication Studies, the students began planning for the publication of the second annual chapbook competition winner's manuscript. I have to say, it was kind of exciting to begin that conversation. This time, though, there was a difference, because it had been done before. That is, I had done it before.

So many hard parts will, I think, be easier. We have a basic template in InDesign. We won't be printing each and every copy (!) on the hardest working duplex printer in show biz--we'll outsource that business to Print Services. And I have a stronger sense of what it will take to move through the process--from layout and design to production, from press releases to publicizing to documenting, to the debut.

It was nice to be able to show this year's students last year's documentary. If it was just a little bit daunting, it was also inspiring. So tomorrow, we'll be looking at historical and contemporary literary chapbooks. We'll be bringing in some public information professionals to talk to the publicizing/marketing/documentary team. And we'll be interviewing the author, getting her feedback on cover concepts. It is on. Stay tuned.

The best part.

The best part of mole poblano is how complex it tastes: it has sweetness to it, like a fruit or, yes, probably the chocolate, but a faint bitterness in back of that, and then there's heat, a little, and it's earthy and round.

The best part of mole poblano is that it is more versatile than its usual applications imply: I made enchiladas with it, and the vegetarian ones, with goat cheeses and chopped squash peppers onion mushroom were so good.

The best part of mole poblano is coming to understand the character of those dried peppers: mulato pasilla ancho: torn into pieces and fried, the unbelievable aroma of them frying, then soaking and pulverizing them, their pulp the deep dark basis of the sauce.

The best part of mole poblano is that I made it, that I made it over the course of three days, that it was an ordeal and a process, and that that ordeal, that process, yielded something so completely satisfying.

And that is the end of the mole poblano. At least, the end of the mole poblano posts--I have a lot of the actual mole left.

Time to rotate the handbag.

The people, there is too much shit in my purse.

As I was explaining to college daughter one day or another this week as we went from midvalley to south-y-south-south valley again, here's how it goes:

1. I have a big purse. Verily, perhaps a giant purse. Large-y McLarge the Purse.

2. I fill the purse full of stuff.

3. One day, when I have dived headfirst into my giant bag of doom ("The Abyss"), trying to find some essential thing or other, I break into a sweat, start to feel itchy, and I think, "damn, I have too much stuff in this purse."

4. But rather than clean it out, precisely, I select a smaller bag. The smaller bag will, without fail, save me from my worst inclinations. It will be impossible to have too much stuff in the smaller bag! It's smaller! Hence, less room for stuff!

5. My petite, much lighter bag, dangles lightly from my wrist for 18-24 hours.

6. After which, my smaller purse is inexplicably overloaded.

7. I carry around the smaller purse for weeks or months.

8. One day, when I have dived headfirst into my petite yet still abyss-like bag searching for some essential thing or other, I get sweaty, itchy, think, "damn, I have too much stuff in this purse."

9. I select a big purse. I have a lot of stuff. It will be much, much easier to keep it organized in a bigger bag.

One morning recently, at breakfast with my daughter and grandson, I could not find my Bakugan in my purse.

What's that? you don't carry around a Bakugan, aka a Dragon-Ball, aka a transformer type deal that turns from a ball into a dragon? You better get you one:

Right, back to my purse perplex: I couldn't find my Bakugan. So I took out a check register ("who uses checks anymore?" "Your mom."), sales receipts, a tiny notebook, a tube of awesome colored pencils, lipstick, a pen, and other assorted nonsense. No Bakugan. Where could it be? Who knows. Maybe Bruiser ate it (which was a slanderous thought: I found it on my kitchen counter today.)?

I began tidying up all the stuff I had excavated from the purse, and started to replace it.

"Oh, by all means, put that back," my daughter said, meaning the sales receipts and other meaningless paper.

Anyway, it's time to move to the bigger bag. I was neck-deep in my purse today, trying to find God knows what. Here's what there actually was:

• gray gloves
• a coupon for free popcorn at the Salt Lake Film Society
• a program from the jazz concert we went to on Monday
• a General Education Requirements brochure, from when I helped at Student Express on Tuesday
• a transfer guide to BYU
• an "inspect these documents" thing from my last check register
• a sales receipt from Anthropologie
• a grocery list
• multiple copies of my poem from my poetry group on Sunday (with annotations)
• the program from the Jazz-Sixers game (a couple of weeks ago)
• Target receipt
• T-Mobile advert from Jazz game
• programs from two different church services I attended during the holidays
• a paper with notes for a poem plus my New Year's resolutions
• a Christmas card (from my daughter)
• 5 invitations to my son's open house when he left on his mission
• a check register
• a bank withdrawal slip
• a tiny notebook
• the Jazz ticket stub
• a post office receipt
• another grocery list
• wallet
• reading glasses
• sunglasses
• 4 pens
• colored pencils
• keys
• iPod
• reuseable shopping bag
• about a million kinds of lipstick and lipgloss
• perfume samples
• ibuprofen
• hand lotion

and one Bakugan.

TAGS: handbag, abyss

Give me a G! Give me an R! Give me another R!

What's that spell? Grrrrr . . . . ading.

I like to have a method for everything, the people, and I know you like me to have a method too, so I can blog about it. Here's this semester's method:

1. Make a grid, with the students' names, the various categories for which there are possible points, a column for total points and a column for the grade. This is what's known as a "gradebook." They make them in both print and electronic versions. I like to make my own.

2. Put points in the grid that I should have been tracking all along, but why? when I can do it now?

3. Lie to myself in a grandiose, extravagant, and not-remotely-attached-to-reality fashion about how long it will take me, viz., "Oh yes! It will be done by Friday" (posted on Tuesday).

4. Buy a Christmas tree. Decorate it.

5. Add many new blogs to my Google Reader. My old blogs were getting a little sparse, a little threadbare (yes I'm talking to you if you don't post very much I hate you Facebook).

6. Define milestones. For instance, grade a whole set of this. Then rest. Then grade a whole set of that. Then go to a movie. Why rush? There's no need to rush. Christmas is, like, next week. That's days and days away.

7. Check the Facebook updates of people who are finished grading. Curse them. And love them, but: curse them!

8. Have a small crisis of self-worth. It goes like this: why did they (the students) do (pick your disappointing student behavior--fail to turn in X, scatter their group project documents hither and yon, fail to complete crucial, culminating project Y, etc.)? I am a terrible teacher. Their failings are my fault.

9. Regroup. Strategies for regrouping: toast. Cookies. Mid-grading blogging. Repeat step 8/step 9 sequence as necessary until all milestones (see step 6) are completed.

And yet, having completed a milestone, I am feeling rawther cheerful about the grading. Hello, I must be going to a movie. More grading later. Ta ta.

Craft Talk: Poetry, Revision & Research (in useful bullet points).

Today while revising my poem, I consulted

• thesaurus.com
• dictionary.com
• American Heritage's excellent list of Indo-European roots
• Marcus Aurelius
• Sappho
• Economy of the Unlost
• Eros the Bittersweet
• Ulysses
• the mythology of the Lotos-eaters, aka the lotosphagi
• a website about spiders

Also, I changed the title (from "little deaths" to the prosaic, and possibly Twilight-tinged, "Midnight."  Yes, it will likely change again.). Also, added a teeny epigraph (from the Lotos-eaters section of Ulysses).  

And now, I will watch some television.  And pet the dog.