Friday, August 29, 2008

Suburban Wildlife

This bird was chilling in the creek under the bus stop. I also saw some killer groundhogs the other day, and a deer a few nights ago standing in the little piece of grass between the sidewalk and the street.  I was impressed, but am told that that kinda thing happens all the time, and deer are actually pretty pesky.  I don't know, but it's kinda neat to see animals all over the place.

The job isn't so mindless as the week's gone on, but I've still been writing like crazy.  It's a familiar old groove that I really like being in.  The only lame thing is that the building I'm in lacks elevators.  They're installing them, but that's just blocking off entire hallways, so one must go from the third floor on one side of the building, down to the first, then cut across down there, and go back up to 3 where one actually needs to be.  So, tiring.  But my calves are feeling mighty.  

a poem from William Matthews:

What You Need

Suppose you want to leave your life,
that old ring in the tub,

It closes cozily
as a clerk's hand,
a coin with fingers.

You hate it
the same way the drunken son
loves Mother.

You will need pain
heaving under you 
like frost ruining the new road.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

For the moment

Friday, August 15, 2008

Alan Moore on Art

Here's a clip on the will and motivation to create that's inspired a bunch of excellent conversation among a few old friends. Figured it only right to pass it on to you.  

[Alan Moore is the creator of The Watchmen and Swamp Thing, as well as other titles.]

Here's to the process....

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

If You're All 'bout Obama

Justin Bua's made a t-shirt of the presumed Democratic Nominee.

Personally, I'm waiting for a new series of kicks.  

More from way up here

Behold, more of Ithaca's landscape.  This is really just a street, but I'm pretty sure, when the snow starts to fall, I'll be resisting the urge to push a little snow ball down one of these strips.  You've all seen those cartoons.  Moving on....

I was kinda stoked, now that I'm back in New York, for the chance to be able to apply for a grant from the New York Foundation for the Arts.  I mean, former winners include...a whole bunch of writers we probably all know about (a couple have definitely been promoted here like what!?).  Unfortunately, one of the first rules is that one must have been a NYS Resident for the last 2 years.  I didn't mean to give it up, you see, but had to get the IL DL for the Motorcycle license.  Oh well.  If you happen to be in NY, and have been for the last two years, they're giving fellowships for a whole bunch of stuff, like Film (Manny Nomikos) and I'm sure they can fit tattooing under Drawing or Interdisciplinary Work (for Ms. Sunday at Lark).  

Speaking of awards, I learned from Eduardo's blog, bouncing to Steve Schroeder's, that both Adam Clay and Heather Salus are up for Best of the Net awards.  I'm kinda with Eduardo in that I'm not sure what they mean, but I know some writers I really dig have been finalists, though the site doesn't seem to list any "winners."  But Adam's one of my favorite writers, and Heather's a pretty kind and interesting person whose poems I'd love to read a bunch more than I've gotten to.  Besides, it just adds to the good fortune that's befallen a number of the UIUC MFAs recently--Jaime on the Ruth Lilly 45, Lillian over at Breadloaf, Andrew Ervin's new gig.  

Any time now I'm expecting the respective Reading Series' at Cornell, Binghamton, Syracuse and Rochester to get listed.  I hear Simic's coming to town in the fall.  If you'll be coming through the neighborhood soon, let me know, and I'd love to get out and give a listen.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Drifting Along

Speaking of scenery, found myself over at Taughannock Falls yesterday.

Beautiful path to walk up along the side, then one can actually walk down in the water.  Deeper in some parts, but wholly refreshing and wonderful. Hours later there was a weather warning reporting "penny-sized hail."  In August.  Apparently, these things happen on the regular around here.  

Here's a poem from Stefi Weisburd's The Wind-Up Gods

Corn Prayer Dance

Strands of dancers silk
and shuffle.  Conch shells
and turtle shells clink
like corrugated teeth.  Men
clump together tight as husks, paint
themselves with ardent mud.
Women plant their bare
feet in the earth, wear sky
in their hair, and the rain.  

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