Welcome to the New Year

Kick it off by reading Jason Schneiderman over at the Best American Poetry Blog.

My brother asked me the other day what my resolutions were. He got annoyed when I told him I don't make them because I don't think we need to wait for a day-to-come to make our lives better. Why should our resolve be waivering until the new year?

Just saying.

As for this blog, the resolve is the same as it ever was: expect announcements regarding other artists around the entire community whom I'm excited to support. The links to the right bring you to people who are making magical stuff, and I hope you enjoy it.

Going Home

Scratch Florida.

...see you there!

After Lightening All Night

Morning!

Adam Clay's up at Verse Daily.  Take it in, along with his freshly-painted house.

Just back from spending a weekend in Madison.  Nice place. I neglected to get a cheese hat.  Or any cheese for that matter.  I did, however, watch the ol' Disney Robin Hood, and it holds up, for sure.  Also got to see the latest work by Micah, of White Picket Fences-fame.  

We also had a good talk about intention and art-making.  Maybe he'll jot some things down and send it to BOR.  

Reb was posting about it, and you can find her, Jennifer Knox, and others in the latest Spooky Boyfriend.  

Meanwhile, I'm heading out of town sooner rather than later.  Of course, I move every year or so, but this time it's "back east."  The Vespa project is on hold until I get to the new place.  More on that as it comes.  Stay tuned for the move.  The shake.

Heading to Ithaca, NY

Should be there by tomorrow afternoon.  Anyone want to get a beer?

Floating Around

Dig a poem From Danielle Pafunda's My Zorba over at Verse Daily today.  

New tires for the MG today.  And the latest "last of the vespa parts" should arrive too.  Looking forward to looking forward to that. 

I found this blog the other day, and it's kinda neat.  It seems to be an Engadget for environmentalist drivers.  This is the site where, if you look around, you can find the awesome people who mess with hybrids by installing lithium ion batteries and plugs and don't burn a drop of fuel for 60 miles, only to then get 128 mpg as they take long trips. Right?  Yeah.

By the by, last week was graduation.  I think I'm officially MFA-ed now.  And definitely unemployed for the next few minutes.  I think I'm gonna be come a locksmith.

Let's Get to SD!

Get there and support Sister Rez & Brotha Joseph, a couple of old friends who always bring the new. Read the flyer, and links to the right --->

Stay tunes for the July event, and maybe I'll be on the block by then.....

The Ray at Night event (Second Saturday of Every Month) is parcel of the inspiration for The North Park Gallery Series, a chapbook now available from *Big Game Books* for a whole dollar. 

The Good & the Ugly

First, check next month for some poems up at Softblow.  In the meantime, go enjoy what they have now.  

But down in the garage space, the kickstart seemed like it was going to be great.  

Then I gave it kick, and the teeth promptly gave out.  I think I'm going to have to change the whole quadrant and just buy that with the matching kickstart lever.  At that point, I'm thinking I might as well just put on a new cylinder head and piston.  Needless, to do this job right, I'm going to have to get more stuff, which means I'll have to wait until I get a job and a proper work space.  I think it's time to shelf the baby for a few weeks until something lucrative develops.

The aftermath:

Because the Love is Unfadeable!

Maybe I plug them to you a little too often, but the love really doesn't stop flowing for and from San Diego.  Especially from the Sleeping Giant Crew.  Downloads are here.  They just gave me some hype on their blog, so all the B-folks are clicking over and saying, "Who the *beep* is this fool?!"  I'm just a guy who loves the sound of a scratching record.  And layered beats.  And instrumental tracks in unexpected loops.  

That doesn't mean you shouldn't also support ESA.  I know for a fact JoeMama's got some dope records!  I promise.

What do you listen to when you write?  When you create?  

Is it some Max Xiantu?  You can get his stuff for free now, don't cha know....

Shanna and Knox are blogging from the road. Dig!  They're going to be reading in my favorite campus bar on Sunday.  Did I mention love?

Neat Stuff

Who says nothing cool happens around here?  Check out the new stretchy circuits.

Engadget is also pretty great with solar stuff.  Look at this, and also this.  

And TED.Com has this new one.  

I'm a bit of a science geek in my heart.  In reality I am tinkering with a 2-stroke engine. 

Do you feel that?

...like the latest mysterious post card reads:

Devant une facade rose,
Sur le marbre d'un escalier.

...On a Sunday Afternoon

Pesky petcock problem? Solved. Turns out a petcock from a late 90s model Rebel will fit the threads on a 1979 - 82 cb650. This is not common knowledge, but a discovery made via digital calipers and frustrated motorcycle mechanics. Only thing is, I have swivel it a bit, and use the polyurethane type of fuel line, which is way thinner and more flexible, as well as cooler looking:


I'm sure there are advantages to seeing the flow of the gasoline through the system. Maybe, one day, I'll use this stuff throughout the MG. File that under "Projects Not Getting Done Today."

After some frustration and plug cleaning--if the bike's been sitting for months, chances are condensation within the engine will cause a moist oily build-up on the ends of the spark plugs--she started right up. Warmed and rumbled for about 10 minutes. I gradually lowered the manual choke, and we did 10 miles on some open road to clean out all the sitting around. I wanted to share a photo of it outside:


When the motorcycle's outside, you know it's business time.

Now I just have to remember to start it up every few days. It's going to get cold again, for at least another few weeks. Plenty of time to keep some fingers crossed for the warmer-climate jobs I've applied for. I'm not saying I need it, but I know that warmer weather--specifically driving either the bike or the B in warmer weather--definitely feels healthier than cold.

Anyone wanna cover over and watch Shaolin Soccer?

What Engine Hoist?

Oh. That one....


Yeah....It's gone. Sold right out from under your nose. Let someone else play with it for a while, and I don't need to take it with me when I leave. Where'm I going? Not even the Shadow knows....

A weekend of grading papers is awesome when you have Nin Andrew's new chapbook on the desk with you. That's Dear Professor, Do You Live in a Vacuum?. Why, yes, sophomore. Yes I do.

Soon as I finish this up, I'm tossing a Corned Beef chunk the size of a gnome into the Crockpot for like 10 hours. I did crazy food shopping shopping yesterday, then ordered a pizza. Just like that. Horrible.

Wayne Miller has a poem on Verse Daily today, and it's out of Barn Own Review. That's good because Wayne Miller's good, but also because I'm in that mag. So's Nin Andrews. Last time I checked, so's the Shadow....

By the by, I'm really digging this song. Shatner, baby.

Edit

(photo taken in around '04)

Upon a little reflection, I know I'm not getting rid of my car. In fact, the idea of parting with my MG kinda up sets me. I'm way too attached to the thing. I know this.

But, here's the thing. A new car means a car that's new to me, which means used and, most likely, buying a whole new set of problems and projects. That's all, really.

You'll also notice that yesterday I wrote "another car." Not "an other." So, here's the plan:
- Get a job. Someplace warm.
- Get a garage with an apartment on top. I would buy this house.
- Have the MG and cb650 in the garage.
- Drive them.
- Save some scratch.
- Get a hybrid. Park it outside the garage.

See? The MG doesn't have to go anywhere. I'm going to drive that car until the day it dies and I can't bring it back.

Got the tank back from the shop. It's hot. Photos to come.

The Big Chill

I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm absolutely captivated by the Writer's Strike business.  All sorts of banter and info and videos at the union's site, UnitedHollywood.com.  Thing is, I'm finding the videos they're making while not making tv shows to be way more entertaining than anything I've seen on TV for a while.

In other news, no foolin', I saw a commercial on Fox for a new show that hooks people up to a polygraph test, where they're asked personal questions for money.  My brain went so dead, I missed 4 and a half minutes of the football game I was tuned into.  Luckily, all I missed was Eli Manning not being Payton Manning.  He tries hard, but....well....  Apparently that show is called "Nothing but the Truth."  I"m not going to link to it because I love your brain cells too much.

Meanwhile, I got myself a new swanky bag: an attempt to look more respectable than my canvas paratrooper bag with the button that reads "Poetry Tool."  Days later, I've just sold my old Sector 9 flexdeck longboard for just about the same amount of dough as I dropped on the bag.  IN my head, I've traded my longboard for a briefcase.  Straight up.  Just sayin'....

There's a new DJ Chris Cutz Mixtape up at SGM.  And if you dig house, there's Frankie M--I found it pretty easy to work and chill to on Saturday morning.  Give it a taste.

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?  

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.

Real Quick

Chris Dickens is looking into MFA programs. If he pulls on your coat, help a dude out.

Missed it by 1 and 5/16 inches

I was really hoping to get Lara's 1975 MGB up and running today. So much work. Here's how it happened:
Once we got the driveshaft out, we've got this bolt:

that's a 1 and 5/16", and no exactly standard in the craftsman kit that's to always be kept in the car. So what do we do? Send Lara to the store to go get one. Only took two adapters to hold it to the 3/8 ratchet:


Funny part is, once you get it on there, slap the transmission in gear, and try to loosen it up, a bolt (exactly the same size) on the front of the engine starts spinning. Can't really stop it, unless of course you have another giant socket. Because the transmission mounts are shot, we'll wait for those to come in, and get back to the rear main seal of the transmission in a week.

Meanwhile, the float bowl at the end of the fuel sending until was fucked:

All full of gas. Kinda useless. So, we replaced that whole thing:


This car also had a Delco-Remy alternator installed at some point:


Also had this lovely little regulator that one needs when putting parts in the car that don't be long there:


Got that out, put the new one in. Took the photo while I had it lashed up to get to the bolts on the bottom:


On the way back to civilization, we tried to race a train to the crossing, but it beat us:

(I wasn't driving...not saying; just saying....)

Before all that action, got a few fresh submissions out. Came hope to a few things from applications. Glad to know my stuff gets there. Hope someone hires me.