Where's my Mail Lady?

I'm tellin' you.  I got this habit of moving into places with late-in-the-day mail delivery.  Even the UPS dude's showing up at like 6 at night.  

You got some time to kill?  Listen to Jennifer Knox's reading from FSU.  It's almost like being there, only without the humidity.

Lately, when people ask what I've been doing all day, I say "reading."  But the truth is that most of this reading has been the final couple of years of the Far Side.  I think I'm gonna finish it off...like, right now.

In the meanwhile, Adam Clay's got a new look....

Another Literary Day!

It's William Blake's 250th Birthday!  I do believe I'm gonna make some punch.

Here's my favorite part of The Marriage of Heaven and Hell.  

A Memorable Fancy [plates 22-24]

     Once I saw a Devil in a flame of fire, who arose before an Angel that sat on a cloud, and the Devil utter'd these words.
     "The worship of God is: Honouring his gifts in other men, each according to his genius, and loving the greatest men best: those who envy or calumniate great men hate God: for there is no other God."
     The Angel hearing this became almost blue; but mastering himself he grew yellow, & at last white, pink, & smiling, and then replied, 

     "Thou Idolater! is not God One? & is not he visible in Jesus Christ? and has not Jesus Christ given his sanction to the law of ten commandments? and are not all other men fools, sinners, & nothings?"
     The Devil answer'd: "bray a fool in a morter with wheat, yet shall not his folly be beaten out of him; if Jesus Christ is the greatest man, you ought to love him in the greatest degree; now hear how he has given his sanction to the law of ten commandments: did he not mock at the sabbath, and so mock the sabbath's God? murder those who were murder'd because of him? turn away the law from the woman taken in adultery? steal the labor of others to support him? bear false witness when he omitted making a defence before Pilate? covet when he pray'd for his disciples, and when he bid them shake off the dust of their feet against such as refused to lodge them? I tell you, no virtue can exist without breaking these ten commandments; Jesus was all virtue, and acted from impulse, not from rules."
     When he had so spoken, I beheld the Angel, who stretched out his arms, embracing the flame of fire, & he was consumed and arose as Elijah.
     Note: This Angel, who is now become a Devil, is my particular friend; we often read the Bible together in its infernal or diabolical sense, which the world shall have if they behave well.
     I have also: The Bible of Hell, which the world shall have whether they will or no.

One Law for the Lion & Ox is Oppression.

*

To celebrate, I'm gonna jones for a really hot Vespa with a sidecar I found on craigslist. Because I need another project, right?  There are also a number of hot bikes for sale in San Diego for not so much dough.  Like this one.

If you happen to be in San Diego, by the by, and you're cruising El Cajon Blvd. on Saturday, keep and eye out for Rudy the G, who'll be out there painting John Kennedy on an electrical box somewhere between City Heights and North Park.  

In a related not, my ticket's booked, and I'm out there Dec 31st to January 10th.  

Enjoy Blake's day.  Have a vision if you can.

Coolest Thing I've Seen All Day

Get Your Pollack On! Check it out!

Thanks you, Mr.Xiantu!

And, We're Back

First, there's a new journal: Pistola.  Two poems by Diana Delgado. Two by Alex Lemon.  A lot more great stuff.

Today we're going to talk about food.  More specifically, how when I buy large amounts of meat, I kinda wanna cook it all at once, then eat it over the next few days.  Yesterday was the first time I've ever been to the store and not found a giant brisket on the shelves of meat.  But I did find 2.46 pounds of chicken cutlets.

So I browned them in olive oil:

Put 'em in the crockpot with what was left in a jar of sauce, a can of crushed tomatoes, can of paste, and some very finely chopped up garlic:

Load on to bread with cheese already in it.  Put the bread in the oven for a couple of minutes to give it a little toast, melt some cheese.  Open, and drink, a good bottle of Spanish wine:

Best part is that the one I make tomorrow will be after the sauce has cooled and thickened.  You can come over for dinner if you'd like.  I have enough.

Sandwich not doing it for you?  Check out this neat bit of cool!

Home Again

If you look closely, you can see there's snow on the roofs and a little in the grass.  It all melted an hour or two later, but it's the first I've seen all year.  That's Dr. Ken's back yard. 

Spent the weekend mostly eating thanksgivingy foods, watching reruns of shows on various cable marathons (got in like a year's worth of tv!), and watched a couple of Bond flicks.  You Only Live Twice is one of my favorites.  Most the weekend, I had this little back cocker spaniel eyeing me; apparently, I was in his seat most of of the time.  So, we put a silly hat on him:

He kicked it off shortly after the photograph. 

Eduardo posted up this link.  Good cause; fun game.  Don't know why they can't just send a whole bunch of rice, but whatever.  I didn't read the mission statement yet.

In other news, David Cross should just become Allen Ginsberg.  And Kate Blanchett might want to consider a life as a younger lime-lit Dylan. Saw it.  See it.

 

I like being back in my apartment.  And, make no mistake, I am thankful for it, and for my percolator.  I've been drinking mud from a little 4 cup drip thing for the last few days, and that's just plain silly.  

Excuse me while I grind....

Before I Go...

I'd like to say that I have a million things to do before I get out of here and get to Cincinnati for the weekend, but that's a bold-face lie.  As we speak, a fresh copy of Bowie's Hunky Dory/Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust is burning for the drive.  That was the priority for the day.  They happen to fit on one CD if you cut out the alternate takes and tracks that they play on the radio too much, which also happen to be the weaker parts of the albums.  I say.

But you want substance.  Ok.  Ada's got readings galore on the menu:

First one:

Tuesday, November 27th
6PM Sharp.ACA Galleries
529 W.20th St., 5th Flr.
d.a levy lives: Big Game Books reading with Shafer Hall, Sandra Beasley, Ada Limón, & Logan Ryan Smith with music from Alex Battles

Then Next:

12/16 I'm reading at the Bowery Poetry Club with Amazing Abraham Smith
1/28 I'm reading for St. Marks Poetry Project with Jee Leong Koh
1/31 I'm reading for Barrelhouse at KGB Bar
2/29 I'm reading on Leap Year at Pete's Candy Store in Williamsburg Brooklyn with Amazing Abraham Smith and his NEW BOOK

Right?  Makes me long a little for New York.  See you in January!

Meanwhile, ordered Ross Gay's Against Which.  I've borrowed a copy for the weekend, and the first poem has me pretty stoked.  I've also dug his stuff over at fishouse.  Have you?

Max Xiantu has given you a new place to chill.  Swing by.  Check it out.  Chat him up.

I'm taking my quest for a gas tank for the cb650 with me.  That's not to say that if you come across a good gas tank for a 1980-82 Honda cb650, you should give me a holler right away.  And I know there are two on ebay, but one is a bit of a dog while the other doesn't positively go to my bike, and I'm not making that mistake again!  Before I got this morning, I'll be putting an additive into the bike as it stands to keep it all healthy if the cold strikes.

A warm blanket?  Arriving in the mail?  Why yes, it did, in the form of a response from one of my applications.  It wasn't calling me for an interview, but only telling me that all my stuff got there. However, the cozy part was how they began the message with "Dear Professor Deutsch."  A. That's some unexpected but welcome class, not grinding at distinctions between "instructor," "lecturer" and "Professor;" B. I'm just gonna look at it as foreshadowing.  If you read this, find it engaging enough that you've determined the plot arc of more narrative qualities of life, feel free to see it the same way.

Happy Thanksgiving!

See you in a few days!

Here's a poem for it.  From Jennifer L. Knox's first book, A Gringo Like Me, available from Bloof!

The Best Thanksgiving Ever

After the meal, Sandy decided we should spice up charades

by slapping the loser's butt with a ping-pong paddle.

Whenever Ed got slapped, he farted because he was so nervous.

The ladies won, slapped all the men's butts, but then what to do?

"Take off your clothes!" I told Sean, who didn't seem like the kind

of guy who'd do such a thing--but he was, and he did.  Then Jim

took off his clothes.  and then John.  Then the other Jim

who brought all the lovely bottles of wine.  And finally Ed.

Deb came out of the bathroom and saw five big men naked in the kitchen.

They screamed, "Take off your clothes!" We all figured she would,

and she did.  Then Sandy the Slapmaster, then me, then Tomoko

who kept her glasses on.  We walked around the house naked,

talking about how it was to be naked with other naked people,

how none of the guys had boners, and how cold it was out in the garage.

Somebody found a big bottle of vodka.  We made a no-hugging rule.

John kept trying to open the curtains and show the neighbors

what they were missing.  Ded thought an orgy was imminent,

but since we'd all spent a lot of time in Iowa, I didn't think it would fly.

Jim passed out.  Ed put a robe on.  I passed out.  We woke up

the next morning in T-shirts, ate bagels from Bagel Land, and said,

"We all got naked last night." That afternoon, on our way

to the Walt Whitman Mall, the ladies gave each other nicknames

ending with the word Bitch.  Deb was Shy Bitch,

Sandy was Gentle Bitch, Tomoko was Slutty Bitch and I was Silent Bitch.

All the bitches agreed that slapping people's butts with a paddle

was something we needed to do every weekend, that this was the best

Thanksgiving ever, and that Ed had the biggest dick we'd ever seen.  

I'll tell you one thing...

The Far Side comics of the first half of 1991 are extra thick-n-rich in their consistency of hilarity.  I've got half a mind to track down Gary Larson and give him a hug.  Or invite him to breakfast with Russell Edson and sit back while the Universe explodes into a more obvious splendid wonder.  Rye toast, please.

 AND ANOTHER THING!

As you might be aware, I gave a little talk at Winter Wheat last week about the mechanical aspects of poems--mechanical as in literally, as in small pieces making an engine and internal combustion, etc.  If you're a regular reader here, you might have figure out that that is how I think.  ANYWAY, the sharp Michele Yanga was in attendance and talked to me about the Haibun form.  Very interesting (and, frankly, exactly what I kinda want all prose poems to be, at least my own, as far as the expansion of perception that a haiku hopefully achieves only in a much larger space).  Anyway, the form is on display over at Simply Haiku.  Michele has her own vision of one Haibun up there.  I'm super interested.

Oh. Oh.

Katie has a book coming out on So New!  Amy Guth is the editor.  I don't think I have to remind you how much I like the people over at So New Media, simply for maximizing what postage allows.  If I do, it's right here.

Finally,

I broke a promise to myself this week; said I wasn't going to work on any car.  Ended up replacing a dude's serpentine belt on his 2001 Saturn.  Man, oh man.  May I find employment in a place affordable enough to invest in a living space with a garage.  Do you think I haven't thought about getting another motorcycle and putting outside the bathroom door of my studio apartment?  

Indy and Back

Gave Lil a lift to Indy yesterday, where Matt (coming along for the ride) and I decided that we needed to eat.  Exit 66 on the 74 in Indiana is a small oasis of fast food not found in Champaign-Urbana.  Not that I like fast food, but I feel better with options around.  

Fact: I have not eaten these little burgers (the ancestors of the now-hip "slider" popping up on menus all over) probably since High School.  Actually, I believe it was the spring of 1997 in the passenger side of a guy named Lou's Monte Carlo; I remember this event because I tossed a bit of the belly-bomber out the passenger window, and a sparrow refused it.  Or ate it and exploded 8 seconds later.  The memory gets sort of fuzzy.  Note the tiny burgers juxtaposed next to that "small" shake:

This was not all it was cracked up to be.  I will wait another 10 years.  However, I like photos of food, even if it's sort of gross.  In it's defense, I was not hungry for the rest of the day--but those fries weren't mind. Just the little boxes.  And the shake.

Meanwhile, I got my Happy Mediums yesterday.  Big Game is awesome--and I'm not just saying that because my work is to come in the tinyside series.  

In mechanical news, the auction on the cb750K tank, star of last week's fiasco, ends today.  In a perfect world, I get some decent scratch to buy a tank I can actually use.  In a perfect world, there's not anywhere I have to go, any commerce, and no winter...well.

If you're in Chicago (some of you've got to be), here's your plan for tonight:

Says Guth:
"The Fixx Reading for this month has been thoughtfully moved forward as to not get lost in the shuffle. So, that means that you can get your lit fixx this Thursday, November 15th @ 7:30pm with this month's guests: John Sheppard author of Small Town Punk and Renee Rosen author of Every Crooked Pot


The Fixx Coffee Bar
3053 N Sheffield Ave.
Chicago, IL


Please note that due to various winter holidays, there will be no reading in December but a stunningly awesome January event, to be sure."

Yup.

Tastes of Sights and Sounds

The beautiful hand on the needle-gun that's decorated every one of my limbs has a new website.  Check out Sunday at her new site (and we'll see if my body makes that gallery too).  

A new collaborative Mixtape is up at SGM.  

I spent a relatively long portion of the day with this song in my head yesterday.  Sorry.  Unless you're Jodee, it's probably in your head now too.

There's something rumbling out there.  It might be the garbage truck emptying the dumpsters down the block.  It might be an onslaught of mail from colleges all over the country.  Suppose I'll let you know....

Return from Winter Wheat

It's a fact: Mary and I DO have the same camera:

The thing about the Winter Wheat Book Fair is that it's not very big.  But who doesn't know the old "How many lit mags does it take to make a fair" bit?  This year it was us, RHINO, MAR, Wick, Hobart and the event table where they were selling books by those giving readings at the conference.  There is  banter.  There is Russ with his feet up, and Mary applying lotion hourly.  In the second half of the day, she gets a little loopy:

The talk I gave went fairly well, if the measure of a good talk is having everyone stay for the entire thing, and we fill the entire time with on-point discussion.  At the least, I learned a few things, what it feels like to give a talk (much like teaching) and a little about the Haibun.  Definitely interesting.  Like I told the writers who showed up for the talk, if nothing else they learned about how a car works a little better.  

When in Bowling Green, do hit the town; if possible, in the company of NEO MFA folks including Mary and Sara, and don't go anywhere without Aaron from Hobart.  He assured me that when my run with Ninth Letter comes to an end this summer, I could take up working for Hobart AND get the same salary he pays himself--which means I'd owe him a thousand bucks.  We'll work out the details at the Fixx in February.  Or AWP in January.  Whatever.  Dude knows all the official rules to shuffle board.  He and NEO MFA's Frank beat out Russ and Eric.

Meanwhile, real-life conversation with people usually only on blogs and emails is neat.

Though not more photos were taken, there were other good people, including Mr. Sean Thomas Dougherty who's been busy doing readings like crazy.  Not only do I love his book, but he's a super nice guy.  High energy and a whole lotta honesty in his conversations.  

I love these things: change of scene, good company, exposure to new work.  Here's hoping the next job somehow keeps me in literary publishing. I was at Mary's talk.  I got the bullet points covered and everything.  

In an unrelated story, I feel like I got punched in the jaw--this might partially because I watched the Godfather last night, but I doubt it (In which, I couldn't help but notice, a baby is crying very loudly only in scenes where Vito's successor is present--when all the son's are with Vito when he returns from the hospital, in Sonny's apartment, and when he gets the call from Connie just before getting killed at the toll booth; the last crying baby is when Michael is at the baptism.  It seems to be a symbol for the instability of the family in the absence of Vito as head.  ANYWAY!  I think my body has a negative response to driving weak rental cars for an extended period of time.  My whole body is on the sore side for no good reason.  I think I get to take this week off from any major car or motorcycle work.  

Plans for the week include the VOICE reading and guests from SIUE. 

Welcome home.

Shhhh...People are still sleeping...

In Bowling Green for Winter Wheat.

Will eat at greasy spoon soon, set up at book fair after that, and my talk is at one.

...

I'll let you know how it goes.

Later.

Go back to sleep.

Shhhh. 

Cats Everywhere

After I quoted Hipolito (el gato), Lil' sent me this picture of him in the closet.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again: dude's got really short legs.  

Meanwhile, Kdub has done it again over on her new blog.  She makes me look at my arms and legs and consider a career change.  The details are over there.

There's a new addition to my window sil.  A real, genuine healthy aloe plant.  It's healthy for now.  If it dies, I'm blaming Ted's cat who knocked it over twice in as many days.  He's kind of a jerk some times.  The cat.  Jack.  

I'm heading to Winter Wheat tomorrow via a very fast car.  But I'm gonna take my time.  When I get there, I'm chilling with the Gary M[a]c.  He's know what I'm saying.  If you won't be there,  but you're in New York, click over to Bloof for details on the party where everything's happening.

I think I'm using this book next semester in the section I'm teaching.  Has anyone used this in a non-workshop class?  I know a few people who read this blog teach, so don't squirm out.

Morning of Mechanical Miscalculation

HI!
New gas tank arrived last night:


Ain't it pretty? Unfortunately, it's too long to fit on my bike--which seemed weird until I brought it to the shop where they informed me that it is not for an 1980-82 CB650, but rather belongs on a 1979 CB750K Special Edition.

A bunch of other things were attempted to make it fit, but they didn't work. I think the guys I got it from on ebay are going to let me send it back, and return my dough. But I learned a few things about my bike. And when isn't it about learning, right?

Because my motorcycle work was stilted, I took an exceptional amount of care constructing my lunch. Behold:


Was tasty. I'm gonna go to my real job now.
Peace.

"I love you and you're dirty so I'm cleaning you"...

...says Lil's cat when he wakes her up at 4:30 am.  That's the word on the street, anyways.

Roy Kesey's in town today.  I defer you to BK or 9L for more info on that.

Christine made some dinner last night that was sock-rockin'.  If knitting and crafts with a slight dusting of poetry is what you're into, you can get into her blog.  Lots of knitting with that girl. 

 

Big *Game* Books is peddling swag, and you KNOW how much I love supporting the small press. While we're at it, let's shell out a Lincoln for the Happy Mediums.

Steve Schroeder's got a new project, Anti-.  According to the marble notebook of Where My Poems Are, I should be getting a few things back anytime now, so I'm gonna sling 'em straight over.

I spent a good portion of the time between 6:25 and 6:31 this morning checking out the specs on the Pontiac G6.  If I have things my way, I'll be at the helm of one of 'em on Friday Morning aimed at Winter Wheat.  

Watch out this week for a hot new tank for the bike and other fantastic news I've yet to learn.

Taking Saturday and Running

As it happens, a hacksaw will do little more than move the grease around on a U-joint. Pretty discouraging.  Further, the keys for the car were left in a purse in an apartment in campus.  

Now, I don't like to quit, especially on something mechanical, but if the '75 MGB doesn't do what it's supposed to when I get this thing back in, I've got to back off and put it in the hands of the pros.  As much as I avoid mechanics, it's nice to have one in town I know I can trust when the job just gets to be too much.  Besides, it ain't my car.

But at least the chickens were out at the farm yesterday. Ain't they cute?

Ba-gock.

I spend a lot of time working on cars that aren't mine.  I think I'm gonna knock that off for a while.  

If I could, I'd be at this event:

Did you remember to set your clocks back?

Ending the Week Right

Ms. Lillian has updated her site.  Go check the photographic freshness.

I think I've narrowed down the books I'm teaching next semester, and it'll be a fantastic list of spankin' new collections of poetry. Spankin', I say.

Because I'm a fool for quality small presses, an early holiday gift showed up in my mailbox yesterday.  I've got For Girls & Others, and I'm not letting it go.  It's on the stack above Elegy on a Toy Piano.  

OH! Got me a new gas tank for the bike.  It's November 2nd, and I'm riding.  Gonna be like 62 degrees today.  It feels kinda wrong, but just a little right....

Stay tuned for violence inflicted on a U-joint.

Cleaned Up

As much as I loved it, it's nice to get the gutted typewriter out of my place.  The carcass has been sent to Juan in Chicago.  I really hope he makes something cool.  He's got everything except the keys, which are up on ebay, and the dude in my bathroom.

Upon the sale of linked keys, I will be getting my copy of For Girls & Others.

Cleared off the surface of the trunk, but had to fill it with something, so the easel is finally setup in the studio:

I'm not saying I'm a good painter.  But it's a meditation I often forget I love.  (that's the corner of my studio.  See, it's like you're right here with me.)

I started into something last night that I think is an Ode.  So, I started looking at a lot of scattered stuff in the file that isn't my manuscript, and I think a lot of them are fighting to be Odes.  Hence the Odes to Common Things on the ground.  

In the same few minutes I was realizing the Ode-thing, it dawned on me that Black Pool Chalk would be a great idea (so that if you're in black pants, you don't get white or blue chalk on them).  Luckily, someone's had this idea, and they use ebay also.