gone with the wind

Today on the way in to teach my fabulous Creative Writing for Illustrators class for FIT's M.A. program in Illustration (I'm so lucky to get to work with these excellent people--and I'm not just saying that because I told them about my blog and some of them will be reading this), I made it onto a W train that was just about to pull out of the station. For some reason, the trains were all running on the middle tracks, which meant they were express from Astoria Blvd to Queensborough Plaza. It also meant they were packed, especially the car I was in, even at 2:30 in the afternoon.

I walked to the front of the car in search of a seat, or at least a space to lean. I settled on the space in front of the doors, which I knew would be opening at the next stop. I was holding one of my prized possessions, my Transitchek Unlimited Metrocard--I am not exaggerating when I say that Transitchek has saved my life. They deduct the fee pre-tax from my paychek, and I get to ride subways and buses as much as I darn well please.

I have been keeping the card in my wallet, and make a habit of replacing it right after I use it, but after paying my fare I had to run up the stairs and catch the departing train. I turned to try and open my backpack, and the card flipped suddenly out of my hands. It landed, not on the floor, but in the interstices between the door and the doorway--I watched helplessly as my dear unlimited Metrocard slid swiftly, so swiftly, through the crack and, presumably, to the outside of the train car.

This means (1) I have to pay $4 in fares I normally would not. And (2) I have to spend some of my valuable time tomorrow getting a replacement card at the midtown offices of the Transitchek company--not at all on my way to anywhere I need to go. Just what I would love to be doing. Sigh.

i hear music when i look at you

What could be better than Sinatra singing "The Song Is You" with the Billy May Orchestra?

Ella Fitzgerald singing "All the Things You Are," perhaps?

Or what about Peggy Lee's version of "Bali H'ai"?

My goosebumps have goosebumps, courtesy of Michael Bourne on WBGO.

june is bustin' out

Just heard a fabulous big band version of the classic from Carousel by Frank West (thank you, WBGO). I can't believe this month, the most brilliant of the year, is almost over. It's been a rough one--work, family, "personal issues," etc.

Two of my dearest relatives have been in the hospital with conditions related to kidney stones (they're doing OK, but it's tough). The kids have ended the school year with a few minor but uncomfortable ailments--Stella has some sort of virus (Coxsackie or Fifth Disease) that has put her under the weather for a few days--the rash appeared today. And Bobby bruised his eye and cheek area in a playground incident ("Daniel pushed me into Adrian") and had to get an xray yesterday that, thankfully, ruled out a broken cheekbone.

I finally gave in and, after vacuuming with our limping Hoover, turned on the AC. Ahhhh. Tonight the kids are with their dad, and after I finish a bit of the mountain of online grading, it's vegan dining with a Very Cool Poet Girlfriend and drinks afterwards, perhaps with others joining us.

temperat-ure

Summer is here, the weather changing--I never know whether to turn on the AC or not. Today I had it on, went out for a run around 2:30, felt a stiff breeze off the East River, came back, turned it off, opened the windows.

Then the temp started to rise so that by 8 p.m. it had risen to the mid-80s. Sticky again. But I'm sticking with fans only for now.

Wherever you go in the temperate zones you'll hear, "We have a saying around here: 'If you don't like the weather, wait. It'll change.'"

Don't you just love quotes embedded in quotes?

Sigh. My arm hurts, folks. I think I need to change my typing positions--I guess semireclined position is not conducive to healthy ergonomics.

Forgive me my nonblogginess. Life is just so unreadable right now it's hard to write about it. I hope you understand.

Oh, and does anyone happen to have extra reservations to see Sonic Youth at Battery Park on the 4th?

my new favorite blog: kids say the darnedest...

Breaking my nearly month-long silence to give a shout-out to Evan Said It, blogmeistered by Eric McHenry, a very tall, very fine, very funny poet I know from the West Chester Poetry Conference (and my friend Jessica). Eric reports, apparently verbatim, the cool/cute/hilarious/scary-smart things his kids Evan and Sage say.

My favorite post so far is this one. Visit and be amused, be very amused.

we love dan zanes and friends!!!

Stella and I had a very special outing on Saturday--Emma Sage and her mom, Tara, invited us to help celebrate Emma's 7th birthday with a trip to see Dan Zanes and friends at the Highline Ballroom. Well, for various reasons I didn't try to get tickets until the week before, and it was too late: sold out.

But all was not lost. Tara emailed Dan through his website about Stella and Emma, and someone from his record company called her and said they would leave two tickets under my name! Lo and behold, Stella and I were on the guest list! It reminded me of my Boston days, going to rock shows (including Dan's band the Del Fuegos).

Stella and I also said hello to Saskia Lane, who plays bass for Dan's band, and who is in a great gal group called The Lascivious Biddies with our friend Deidre Rodman.

We had a great time--the girls became instant friends and danced a lot to the awesome sounds of the myriad musicians Dan has gathered around him. I especially enjoyed the performance of La Bruja, whom I'd just seen a few weeks ago at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe celebration at Town Hall. Afterwards, we had a wonderful outing along the Hudson River waterfront.

Thank you Tara and Emma! Thank you, Dan and Friends! See you soon!

fine motor: the chapbook

It's here! I got my first shipment from Sow's Ear Poetry Review Press. Cover design and illustration by the fabulous Bri Hermanson.

Come hear me read from it tomorrow night at Perch Cafe in Park Slope, Brooklyn!

red hen in da house

Red Hen Press (aka "the gang from the Coast" aka "my" publisher aka some really rockin' folks) are in town this week. Check out the readings if you can:

FRIDAY, 7:00 P.M.
May 16, 2008
KGB Bar
85 East 4th Street
Featuring: Nick Flynn
Jennifer Michael Hecht
Nickole Brown

SUNDAY, 6:00 P.M.
May 18, 2008
Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery
Featuring: Steve Huff
Kurt Brown
Laure-Anne Bosselaar
Brooke Bognanni
Nickole Brown

TUESDAY, 6:00 P.M.
May 20, 2008
Cornelia Street Café
29 Cornelia Street
Featuring: Kate Gale
Sarah Bein
Greg Sanders

blushing and crunching

It's still very much crunch time, but I wanted to give a shout-out for the latest book by the fabulous Molly Peacock, The Second Blush. I'm going to hear Molly read from the book tonight at the Ceres Gallery in Chelsea (aka the Work 'Hood). Can't wait to get my hands on a copy!

And an update: strings were pulled, and we got Dan Zanes tickets! I'm ecstatic. More later. Thank you, Tara!

I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul... my course runs below the soundings of plummet...
I am an acme of things accomplished... and I am an encloser of things to be...

crunch time

It's the end of the semester at FIT, and I'm hunkered down with stacks of poems, stories, journals, and other papers--all wonderful, but a bit overwhelming all at once. One week left, and then Commencement is Tuesday the 20th at Radio City!

By the way, if anybody knows how to get tickets to the Dan Zanes concert at the High Line Ballroom on Saturday 5/17, let me know!

a child said, "what is the grass?"

....fetching it to me with full hands.

If you care about Whitman, and about music, buy, steal, download this CD.

I guess the grass is itself a child.

If you care about poetry, and Nick Cave, and harlots, and Emily Dickinson t-shirts, read this blog.

Smile, for your lover comes.
Prodigal you have given me love
therefore I to you give love.
O unspeakable passionate love.

I have such a crush on Kurt Elling!

We also descend, dazzling and tremendous as the sun
We found our own o my soul in the calm and cool of the evening

God bless Fred Hersch....

I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul
my course runs below the soundings of plummet

karmic cords

More wisdom from Debbie Ford:

Our emotional wounds unwittingly echo the pain of our past and act as guides leading us to those places within ourselves that need healing. These wounds cause us to resonate with people who have similar or matching unhealed emotional issues. Attaching us to these people are energetic connectors I think of as karmic cords. There is a sense of destiny at work here: these karmic cords--cords of fate--bring people into our lives who are tailor-made to bring us the spiritual experiences we need to complete ourselves.

Although lately I have been questioning my supposed belief in fate, karma, signs, divine direction, or anything that would imply that this universe is anything other than random, I find this idea appealing. It certainly would explain a couple of recent experiences that have left me pretty shaken up (or "all shook up," as Elvis would say). It would explain why I was so powerfully drawn into these situations, and why they imploded so rapidly and painfully. And also why I feel like I've learned from them and why, while I wish I did not have to experience the pain, I don't regret them.

One thing is for sure: a lot of us are running around with huge wounds, and it's a dangerous emotional world out there. Despite the perils, though, I for one believe it's worth it to connect with others. Although I'm drawing the shutters on my heart for the time being, I'm not sorry I opened them for awhile, and can't imagine it will be long before I open them again. And hopefully I've gained one or two good friends along the way.

the ghost in you

Right now I'm listening to that lovely song by the Psychedelic Furs--the first band I ever saw live, at the Newport Theater in Columbus, Ohio.

Ain't it just like rain
and love love love love
is only heaven away...

Inside you the time moves and she don't fade
the ghost in you she don't fade
Ahhhhhhhhh.

roethke, roethke, here he goes again

From tonight's Writer's Almanac:

For An Amorous Lady
Most mammals like caresses, in the sense in which we
usually take the word, whereas other creatures, even tame
snakes, prefer giving to receiving them.
-- From a Natural-History Book

The pensive gnu, the staid aardvark,
Accept caresses in the dark;
The bear, equipped with paw and snout;
Would rather take than dish it out.

But snakes, both poisonous and garter,
In love are never known to barter;
The worm, though dank, is sensitive:
His noble nature bids him give.

But you, my dearest, have a soul
Encompassing fish, flesh, and fowl.
When amorous arts we would pursue,
You can, with pleasure, bill or coo.
You are, in truth, one in a million,
At once mammalian and reptilian.

how soon is now?

Back in the late 80s when I lived in Boston, K. and I would come home from another night partying with hipsters, collapse on our separate couches, and listen to the Smiths. This tune with Johnny Mars' hypnotic guitar riffs, was one of our favorites.

How funny that the lyrics appeal to me now as much as they did two decades ago. These returned to me today during the second mile of a particularly cathartic run:

How can you say
I go about things the wrong way?
I am human and I need to be loved
just like everybody else does.

I actually started singing out loud for almost an entire lap. It helped. The heart finds healing in strange ways.

supper

For some reason I had a hankering for good old-fashioned tuna noodle casserole. Here's what I came up with, courtesy of Epicurious.com: Tuna Noodle Casserole with Fresh Herbs. I used farfalle pasta instead of noodles, added a splash of vermouth to the mushrooms, and the herbs were dried. On the side? Baby bok choy sauteed with garlic and scallions. Perfect.

no drama

"Acceptance comes when we step out of denial and judgment and are willing to see the present exactly as it exists in this moment, without any drama or story line. Drama keeps us stuck in an endless spiral of excuses that prevent us from being able to distinguish between fact and fantasy. Our drama serves as a defense mechanism designed to protect us from the pain of our past. When we're caught up in our drama, we are no longer living in the present moment. Instead, we get hooked into every similar experience from our past that was left unhealed. We think we are responding to the challenges of our lives when in fact we are reacting to all of our unresolved pain."

--Debbie Ford, Spiritual Divorce

Read more here.

music is life

Vicki Forman's Special Needs Mama column is always inspiring, but this month's piece resonates with me in a special way. She writes about music--how it brought her and her husband together with a shock (literally), and how important it has become in her son Evan's life.

One of the students in my online creative writing class, noticing the references to music in my poems, asks about the influence music has on my writing. Music is, simply put, one of the driving forces of my life. I studied piano and violin for years, and eventually also picked up the oboe and trumpet. In high school I played in the band, orchestra, and marching band (yes, I was a band geek) and was voted "most musical" in my senior class. I started college at Ohio Wesleyan as a music major for one term before switching to English and following my other love, writing. I still stayed active, though, by DJing on the college radio station.

And, of course, I have had a talented musician and composer in my life for 15 years. Even though our relationship has changed, I admire his commitment to his art and appreciate how he has been able to pass it along to our kids. Bobby and Stella express their musical heritage in various ways--playing the keyboard, guitar, and drums enthusiastically. This photo shows Stella sitting in with Dad and some other New York jazz musicians at the Pompanuck Farm Institute. I hope she and her brother will always find music an outlet for expression and joy, as I have.

heartland

The land that I come from they call the Midwest. And I guess it's true that you can take the girl out of the heartland, but can't take the heartland out of the girl.

Theodore Roethke was also a Midwesterner--from Michigan, not far from my homeland of Ohio. His large and expansive heart eventually gave out, but he left us some beautiful poems.

Open House

My secrets cry aloud.
I have no need for tongue.
My heart keeps open house,
My doors are widely swung.
An epic of the eyes
My love, with no disguise.

My truths are all foreknown,
This anguish self-revealed.
I'm naked to the bone,
With nakedness my shield.
Myself is what I wear:
I keep the spirit spare.

The anger will endure,
The deed will speak the truth
In language strict and pure.
I stop the lying mouth:
Rage warps my clearest cry
To witless agony.

Oh my. The first two stanzas really resonate with me, but that last one is a bit too much, don't you think? Breathe, Ted!

strange delightful sweet unspiteful

Stella and I have been having regular "dance time" these days--when something good comes on the radio (and when we're listening to WFUV it happens pretty frequently) I start dancing and she joins in.

Today before work Mike Doughty's "27 Jennifers" came on--it's my current fave pop song and I find I cannot help but start moving when I hear it--and Stella quickly joined me. Next they played Van Morrison's "Into the Mystic." Sweet.

What a great way to start the day before heading off to my Creative Imagination class!