Monday, May 31, 2010

on the balcony of beach home with glass o' wine thinking

today is the first day it's just me at my beach home. i unpacked my things, drove to the market for foodstuffs. i made a pan seared salmon with angel hair pasta--a cream, caper, & parsley sauce--it was lovely. i also booked my air tix for my upcoming nyc readings, which im pretty excited about. also writing & just plain ole acclimating to florida time. it's nice to hear the ocean. i got rain all afternoon.

i was very sad to hear of leslie scalapino's passing. she truly changed american poetry & will forever be missed by her readers. my prayers go out to her loved ones,

Saturday, May 29, 2010





Friday, May 28, 2010

if it dont make you look like a drag queen put it back on the rack

between laura & i there are tons of pics to post, but here a just a few for now.

yep, im at the beach just today. i'll post pics of my beach home tomorrow.

if you're in tucson reading this, i probably miss you. if you are in tifton, come visit. if you are in athens, come visit. if you are in savannah, come soon.
the family is here helping me get setup & enjoying memorial weekend, though come monday i'll be manning the place my lonesome hence wriiiiiiting.

[life can be so joyful. so so so. good, balance everything out. i walk towerds you.]

if you're jake levine, get hype in portland no more depressives i miss you.

if you're laura, death on goodreads.com, i'll take you to the cirkle k.

if you're abraham smith, may tennessee take you in like a fullgrown sun.

if you're drew krewer, bedazzled gym sweaters all june.

if you're mmm, quiet writing time & joyful june garden of flowering cacti.

if you're peacock, im at the beach come visit.

shit, im tired now... more tomorrow!





Tuesday, May 18, 2010

timeline**


{me & my most fav laura little}


today is tuesday! my last day of fiction wksp. now that it's almost over, i feel it's safe to say i may never take a fiction wksp again. my heart wasnt in it. the class was full of characters--lovely characters--each should be in a novel, maybe i'll do it! i only got about 50 pages of a novel i may or may not be invested in since all i have been writing is poetry here lately. i'm going to give it a couple more weeks this summer to see if it catches ahold of me again & if it does i'll continue on...when i get back i'll be in a writing circle with mm & cheryl. just us. hard working women writing away. gettin it done.

tomorrow is wednesday! i have my interview at pima nw & im hoping i get signed on to teach poetry. if not, hell, i'll take a couple comps. anything to keep me from behind said bar for lil while.

thursday i pick up big moving truck. i will move about all my things into a my storage unit. yep yep i am moving away from dear tucson for the summer months. going to live in beach house. going to ride horses. cute scooter. going to cook with fresh ingredients. going to get writing like a crazy fool. going to get my feet wet & heal my belly. i will let go of all this nonsense grief & anxiety ive carried around far too long. i will come back august. i will come back healed. tan. i will come back joyous. coming back i'll be bringing miss laura little to live in this desert. this desert is so good.

friday at the buttcrack of day laura little arrives for first taste of tucson lifestyle & living. driving around. facials. casa vincente. salvador duran show. dancing, fun.

friday-wednesday is nothing but fun. us girls (plus two la las) leave out on wed early afternoon. we leave out on a jet plane. we'll be singing on that jet plane, the las will be meowing like hell but anesthecized still.

Monday, May 17, 2010

this one made me love poetry in a much different way than i had before

For Love

by Robert Creeley

for Bobbie

Yesterday I wanted to
speak of it, that sense above
the others to me
important because all

that I know derives
from what it teaches me.
Today, what is it that
is finally so helpless,

different, despairs of its own
statement, wants to
turn away, endlessly
to turn away.

If the moon did not ...
no, if you did not
I wouldn’t either, but
what would I not

do, what prevention, what
thing so quickly stopped.
That is love yesterday
or tomorrow, not

now. Can I eat
what you give me. I
have not earned it. Must
I think of everything

as earned. Now love also
becomes a reward so
remote from me I have
only made it with my mind.

Here is tedium,
despair, a painful
sense of isolation and
whimsical if pompous

self-regard. But that image
is only of the mind’s
vague structure, vague to me
because it is my own.

Love, what do I think
to say. I cannot say it.
What have you become to ask,
what have I made you into,

companion, good company,
crossed legs with skirt, or
soft body under
the bones of the bed.

Nothing says anything
but that which it wishes
would come true, fears
what else might happen in

some other place, some
other time not this one.
A voice in my place, an
echo of that only in yours.

Let me stumble into
not the confession but
the obsession I begin with
now. For you

also (also)
some time beyond place, or
place beyond time, no
mind left to

say anything at all,
that face gone, now.
Into the company of love
it all returns.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Greyson Chance Singing Paparazzi

i found this on drew krewer's mars poetica--holy shit!

did you receive mass tarp sky email today?

well, x-tian peet, loveliest, did a lil mass email release of all the new books out from tarp sky this spring--joanna ruocco, traci o'connor, kim gek lin short, & mine. now i been out in the yard weeding for what feels like all day & was well on my way down to brushfire bbq to get a pulled pork sandwich--& then i read the email. & then i laughed & laughed. i just love to hear what folks say of the book & it tickled me that he wrote: "an avant-Southern hybrid hailing from syntactic hinterlands where the farm meets the backlot of the Piggly Wiggly." Love it!




here's the whole bit:

and Shelly Taylor's Black-Eyed Heifer, a "a mighty anthem to down home local culture" (Brenda Iijima) and a "radically innovative use of language" (Jim Harrison), an avant-Southern hybrid hailing from syntactic hinterlands where the farm meets the backlot of the Piggly Wiggly.

go buy my gorgeous gorgeous book if you have not. i think small press distribution should have copies any day now! xo--

Thursday, May 13, 2010

School's out for summer, Cammy Li sends a poem; jia you Cammy Li



When I lived in NYC I was a mentor with Girls Write Now, a program you all should know about by now which partners professional women writers with high school girls interested in writing. My mentor-ee Missus Cammy Li is still my sister years later, & she has just finished her sophomore year at New School. I couldnt be more prouder of her!

She took Intro to Poetry this past semester--here's a poem she just sent over my way.

Daydream

Sometimes I spend days eating soggy leftover bento lunches and running from raining books splashing on my head, my sleeves life leaves sliding on the floor, I’d come home wilted like old scallion kept in the fridge too long, too rotten, too bruised brown and blue to feel any more knives coming my way.

Maybe if you tie me ‘round my hips a rope to taste the dancing wind across my lips, I can travel ‘cross and wide to another place—oh, how I long for chirping daffodils and winking cats to take me off this ever spinning top of a world, so I can just nap, with smile tweaked dimples and petals on vacation sunbathing on my cheeks as they lay me down on unrolling carpets of grass.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

my best angie dickinson

oh wow i cant fall asleep. been writing A LOT which makes me up & up at night all night. feel a tad old school: listened to every soul miners (sans 3 stones, my fav, i couldnt find it), jennifer nettles band, tori amos song i could find on youtube, was quite good for the insides. "got a cloud sleeping on my tongue / leave me with your borneo / i said / leave me the way i was before." reading helene cixous. the school of the dead is whew:

"when you are alive and writing you question yourself: am i writing? am i burning? [...] writing or saying the truth is equivalent to death, since we cannot tell the truth. it is in every way forbidden because it hurts everyone. we never say the truth, we must lie, mostly as a result of two needs: our need for love and cowardice. [...] i have respect for those writers who, in their lifetime, have approached that point where cowardice and courage are so close to each other they might fly into the flames if they were to say one word more. [...] i am not talking about religious people; these are poets."

Sunday, May 9, 2010

i just wrote this for you mama.

i am a quiet girl quiet like texas mother
mother’s day for you for me
you have been good not like some mother
mothers turn in on oneself clean her house
for her for his grief and mine
but my mother has been good to me
my eyes hard like western states texas
arizona i might not get past you the horses
forget they are and humble fields in georgia
where i forget i was a weed roundworm
barefooted thing the weeds parted for mother
how you made easy how you watered every flower
and fern made the ground a loose opening from which
we put our cut hair into and make wishes for love
may daughters be adored by their men and babies my hands
muddy from watering every piece of dirt in western states
margarita mother id make for you every thing in the ground
growing i give to you my hands dirty the sunshine yours.

happy mother's day mamacita!



i love you so very much! happy first mother's day rouchie! wish i were with yall at the surf eating on a shrimp basket & mama, drankin on a margarita with you!

and i may not make it past arizona

kristen nelson, designer of black-eyed heifer & friend of mine, had a big birthday extravaganza at her magical home, casa libre en la solana. bo's mama susan made a low country broil--big tabletop covered full of jumbo shrimp, potatoes, & corn on the cob. there was food everywhere, & music, & it looks like the bday girl had so much fun. i know i did. thanks for inviting me kristen!

pic one: bo serenading frankie & her husband out the door onto fourth ave with "i was born a coalminers daughter," in batman undies. classic.

pic two: birthday grl & jake levine dancing in the hot tub foam.

pic three: james.

pic four: that's me in that hot tub foam. that's my pal jake.



Thursday, May 6, 2010

is that all right yeah, give my gun away when it's loaded


-----

chelsey minnis' poems in poemland may seem spare in that kind of way that might point to easy--but lord no! they are full of depth, density, they move around in one's head a textured presence, they speak with a voice that is straightforward & amp my ears in a way so that they'll stay awhile. it's the desperation in a book that most attracts me, whether living, dying, & then there's the next day in our hands...what we do with that. minnis does a lot.

-----poemland by chelsey minnis-----wave books

This is a cut down chandelier...

And it is like coughing at the piano before you start playing a
terrible waltz...

This past should go away but it never does...

And it is like a swimming pool at the foot of the stairs...

~

You can feel it rumble in your champagne...

And the trophies sliding off the shelves...

Your love coming back to you from the icebergs!...

This is like getting hit with a folding chair

And being held by your braids...

~

I like to live a hard life but I know I shouldn't do it...

I should live an easy life or I am a fool!

The sea-crabs try to cling onto anything.

The crab fishermen don't even want all the crabs...they want
money...

Even though their mustaches are covered with ice...

~

You continue stumbling and you will always continue stumbling...

You aren't progressing and so you have misconduct...

And you start to get excitably depressed...

It's like trying to drink a bottle of champagne in a roadside
bathroom...

While holding on to a handle attached to the wall...

~

This is digging and digging through fur coats looking for a
pistol...

And it's like a bronze ruffle going down your front...

And it's like the torn off sheer nude covering...

This is what should never be pulled out of the fireplace...

~

He was a man with a quality of a baby deer...

It was a "magically hurt" look in the eyes...

He was like a tearstained person

Being gently spray misted with whiskey in a spray-bottle...

Congrats to Laura Little. Happy Birthday Jake!



Miss Laura passed her Boards today, meaning she is officially Nurse Little. Whoop!

----

Jake Levine turned 25! Happy Birthday. How perfect Jake, Drew, & I were together once again in birth celebrating.

Also, temporarily stolen from Jake's bookshelf: CA Conrad, The Book of Frank; Tenny Nathanson's new book Ghost Snow Falls Through the Void (Globalization); Helene Cixous, Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing; Chelsey Minnis, Poemland. Given to me were Jake's new chapbook, The Threshold of Erasure; Siken's Crush; & Alice Notely, Reason and Other Women. Good readings to come...

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

how fun! cinco de mayo!



(first one i took w/ cell phone, cuts my face off mysteriously. second is our dearest tucson salvador)

yesterday was fun-fun. went to class, found out cheryl (kidder) got nominated for a pushcart for a short story published in sandscript, so of course, we went to have a celebration. mm, cheryl, & i went down to the ole congress & had a few & some great talk, a little bout writin but mostly bout men, which is nice for me because im still the "youngin" who gets to listen to various stories which i love--stories & listening & talkin bout men, all all all of the above. mm says i have a very old soul though, which i definitely believe cause she knows all about this stuff, says sometimes it's not easy being a witch, which i can understand. i wish i were a witch.

anyways, mm fed me dinner at 11 & then i was off once more for fun. i havent been to ches for prob bout two months, figured it was not my territory, but last nite was salvador duran's 60th birthday & lord knows i just had to go. met up with terry, saw joe novelli, had larry dancing (okay well swaying a lil) all nite, saw miss tina who i have missed a lot, finally exchanged numbers, flirted too much with someone (the casa vincente finger-pickin extraordinaire) who could not have been 21, danced & danced!

i pay for my funs, but they are so worth it. happy cinco cinco cinco de mayo! tequila tasting party which im prob going to have to skip lest my head feel better after laying out by the pool all afternoon, which is just what im about to do.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

haha!

back a little while ago, when it was the ole tucson festival of books, i had dinner with elmore leonard, j harrison, advice goddess amy alkon & her bf, publicist for dutch, & dutch's son & wife. fun times to say the least. i remember enjoying amy very much--very sophisticated & beautiful, & most of all she has my fav quality of personhood: curiosity.

well, i saw her watching me & j harrison all nite, how funny, i thought, what she must be thinking this whole evening of me. probably giggling in her head oh lord help me written on my face kind of stuff. i call jim uncle but he is a very endearing uncle & all women must think my goodness this man is very ballsy in his behavior. i just googled amy to see if i could find any pics from that fun-fun nite in tucson at casa vincente, & instead i found this great write-up that she did in her column, advice goddess. how wonderful, amy. i just love!

---------------(the question posed to our advice goddess was one about the problems of lap-sitting)------------


Let's be honest: What disturbs you isn't the "dreadful over-the-top flirting," but the dreadful leaping up from your lap as if electrocuted. The answer isn't making pre-emptive announcements — not unless you're in some race to humiliate yourself before other people can get to it.

You just need to act like the kind of guy who'd be dangerous for a girl to tease. For a role model, I suggest the one-eyed, boozing, chain-smoking, gourmet food-hoovering poet/novelist Jim Harrison, who looks and sounds like the product of drunk sex between a pirate and a grizzly. At 73, with his mere presence, he makes young player-dudes seem to have all the sexual mojo of Julie Andrews. (As a woman, you get the sense that if you get too close, he just might grab you with one of his big paws, pop a truffle on you, and wash you down with a swig of Spanish wine.)

In other words, your problem isn't that you've been humiliated, but that you're acting humiliated, letting this girliepoo set the tone. Instead of hanging your head and hoping to evaporate, refuse to be shunned by teasing the tease: maybe pointing to your knee and asking if she'd like another ride on her new pony, or grinning and sticking out your hand, fingers wriggling, as if it might get loose and make another run for her leg.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

yeah!

id put my money on calvin borel

(pic: super saver)


the horse is most important, it's true.

but you give calvin borel a decent mount & he's more often than not gonna take it. yep, ima borelist. he likes mud too, & this year's a dern mess. he won last year on the longshot, mine that bird (pic above).

he's on super saver this year. it's my prediction the cajun's gonna take it.