Writers' Meetings Friday & Wednesday

We've had our Thanksgiving break, now it's time to get back at it. Send your work out asap and meet us tomorrow at 1:00 at The Chicory.

And

Next week, Wednesday night, 7:00 p.m., we're having an end-of-the-season party at Chris O'Brien's. Chris is making soup and bread. We're bringing everything else. We might workshop a bit, too, so send, send, send, and we will try and figure out if we're going to meet again before January. December is upon us. Time to chase the darkness away. Goodness.

Positive Effects of Walking

Every once in a while, when I'm not completely pissed off at them, a pastor tells me something I need to know. As often as not, it's not something spiritual, but something practical, something like "walk in the direction that you intend to go." And so...

I walked down the hallway to the advising room and filled out the form to apply to graduate today. I found out last week that I should have filled it out in September if I wanted to graduate in May. Such is life. I should have maybe walked a little more quickly, but nonetheless, August graduation, here I come! I hadn't planned on walking through the ceremony anyway (different direction), so August instead of May isn't too big of a deal.

Then, this evening, I walked across the street and asked my grandfather to unlock the cedar box that contains my father's effects. It's been closed and off limits, but ever present, all these 33 years. It occurred to me last week that I was old enough to ask. I only took a quick peek, saw an old sneaker, a watch, some blue jeans, but Saturday I'm going back to collect the complete contents.

Walk in the direction you intend to go.

Replay

And he came back again today, right after the recycling people came by.

November Air

We celebrated Gene's 48th birthday Friday. He figures he's probably more than halfway through the maze. His beard, reddish-blonde, is beginning to display tufts of dignified gray. He still asked for the Superman VS The Silver Surfer comic book for his present, though for his Christmas stocking stuffer this year he's asked for a small book of poetry, nothing too modern, something by someone well respected, established. I'm thinking about that. He and Jojo baked his favorite Texas cake together. They found the recipe in his mom's old recipe boxes. Jojo and I both volunteered to make it, but he wanted to partake in the creation, bring his mom's presence into our kitchen with his own hands. It's probably best that way. And it turned out very good. Hopefully his mom didn't look at the mess while she was there.

November is always a little weird around here. Maybe it's the change of the seasons. I don't know. We've buried a lot of friends and relatives in November. One year on Gene's birthday he was picking out his mom's casket. We both agreed it was definitely better to be making cake than picking out coffins on your birthday. This year we lost no one, but still we had to buy a ten-pack of sympathy cards at Barnes & Noble for all our friends who have lost relatives, and there was a memorial service to sit through. There's just something about November. I get worn out with the dying. I'll be glad when it's through.

On a happier note, I'm all but finished with my reading for this semester. I finished Anil's Ghost last night and was glad I chose it. I took copious notes and I think I'll write the 10-page paper on identity theory, which I'm going to have to do some research on. I loved Anil's character and her insistence on choosing her own identity, even going so far as to reject the names she was given by her parents and bartering with her brother to buy his middle name, Anil. At 12 years old, "She gave her brother one hundred saved rupees, a pen set he had been eyeing for some time, a tin of fifty Gold Leaf cigarettes she had found, and a sexual favor he had demanded..." The author is very diligent about supporting the character's choice. We never learn her previous given names. The book is, of course, about much more than that. It's also about erasing people or destroying them so completely they might as well be erased. It's about seeing and grappling with truth, "truth is just an opinion." I could go on and on, but I should probably focus my energies on the paper. Certainly December will be coming and we'll be moving on to better things.

Red-Bellied Woodpecker

It was the usual crowd for Thanksgiving, except for this guy who showed up on the bird feeders after lunch. I was so pleased. He's never been to my house before! He didn't stay long, but maybe he'll come back. Look at that gorgeous head. Good thing I didn't bother to put away the binoculars or the bird books in my cleaning binge. Okay, yes, there were a lot of things I neglected to put away and/or clean. But see, it all worked out. What a nice day.

Mad World- Gary Jules

In celebration (or however you'd like to categorize it) of whatever angst you're feeling today. But mostly the people on the street are fascinating.

Moving Clay

I've been trying to write something for several days now and it's coming out slow and jerky, which makes me want to abandon it and try again in another couple of years. It's an essay, which is easier for me than poetry, but not this time. Not this time. I'm going to keep working on it a couple more days, then file it away if it doesn't come. What to do with the lumpy clay that absolutely swears it is a pot? Clay is just earth, isn't it? Can't it go back where it came from, rattle someone else's bones?

And Why?

Thanks, Talia, for the link. And I suppose this means that this blog is totally incomprehensible. I've suspected as much for a very long time.

The Season of Food

Another fine workshop at The Chicory (sorry, no pics), but Rachel, Mike, Naoko, Ryan and I chewed up everyone's work and digested food in our poetry. Say, is cherry pie on a sidewalk better than an apple, or do ants have teeth? Are they sharp? What is the best food representation of blah? I voted against Cream of Wheat in the blah category, because Cream of Wheat is very warm and yummy and it would be a shame to connect it to, say, apathy and homeless shelters. I also couldn't vote for oatmeal, because I like oatmeal too. Expecially with brown sugar and raisins and walnuts and a little cream. No, oatmeal is much too happy to be blah. And it's good for you. No consensus was reached. An impasse. We also spent a great deal of time discussing hair, and some small amount of time on sex. Our discussions perplexed us so greatly that we stayed three hours and I returned to my car just in time for the kind parking ticket man to hand me a $10 ticket, which I couldn't talk him out of, although I didn't try very hard. Everyone has a job to do, after all, and some people's job is to hand me tickets. What can you do?

In other news, it seems as though this Wednesday, the evening before Thanksgiving, might not be the best time to have workshop. So we're taking that off the schedule. We're on for the next Chicory date, however. And we're trying to make plans for a little holiday celebration to end the semester on Wednesday, Dec. 5th. Naoko will be leaving us for at least a month, finals and other commitments are coming up, and in short December is going to be wild. So, let me know what you all think about a party to end the 2007 workshop season. Maybe a carry-in meal? Snacks? Let me know.

Also, Mike is in the final push to get his MFA apps in. Visit his blog, comment on his work...

And that's it for the workshop world.

Nora: The Sequel - Better than the original!

Coming soon, Nora writes poetry.