Modest artist

Nothing presumptuous here.  It's what we all hope.

How cool is this?

On Red Lion Square (see also www.redlionsq.com) you can hear me reading three poems:  "Bad Diagnosis", "Actually...", and "In the Mirror".  It's an interesting site, both audio and visually, and worth a look.

Maddened chihuahua

One of FIVE chihuahuas that took great offense at our walking past their yard.  A real hellhound, and not less for having no more teeth.  Scary little mothah.

And Another Thing...

...you would think there wouldn't be many drawbacks to getting a chapbook selected for publication, but....but....any poems appearing in the chapbook are, well, published, and therefore no longer eligible for being submitted to various journals.  Am I counting scalps?  Somewhat, I suppose.  There are some seven poems that will see print only in this chapbook or in its analogs, and I think they were good ones, and I would have liked it if someone in the wider world might have read them.  Not exactly the world's saddest problem.

Writer's Remorse

Does anyone recognize this?  I just got two poems accepted by a certain publication (whose editor had rejected them four months ago, but never mind--she contacted me, so why ever not?).  These are both poems I have shopped around for more than a year, and I think one of them is quite good.  Now that it/they will appear in print, I am wondering hard if I could have placed it in a 'better' publication, higher up on the writers' food chain.  Remember that it has not been picked up despite my sending it out some ten times.  Is there no end to the vanity of wanting to be published?

All this and an ISBN too

I just learned that my chapbook submission to Pudding House's annual chapbook contest is a finalist, which means that they are going to publish it.  This is a breakthrough for me.  The weird thing is, now that I am at last going to have a chapbook out there, what crosses my mind mainly is that I know so many poets who have at least one chapbook published.  It reminds me of how I felt getting my doctorate nearly 30 years ago:  before I achieved it, the Ph.D. seemed so far off and wonderful, the sign of entering another plan of existence; once I had it, it seemed that everyone I knew had one.  I think that there is some external truth to this:  when you're aspiring, you tend to spend time with others going after the same thing; once you've succeeded, you continue to tend to spend time with people interested in the same activity. 
Anyhow, the chapbook is entitled "Eggs Satori", and I am told it will be coming out in the first half of 2011.

Thanks, Mr. Johnston--Magic Flute in Pomona,matinees next three Saturdays!

Pamina and her warm-hearted mother, the Queen of the Night, getting stuck by a pin during costume repair.  (Aneta Augustyn and Keiko Clark)                 

 

 

Tickets on sale at:   http://www.repertoryoperacompany.org/
(and they're just $30, and the space is air-conditioned)

Shout out to Mr. Johnston, wherever you are

I have the task and privilege of singing in the chorus of the Repertory Opera Company's production of The Magic Flute.  Very fine principals, piano reduction marvelously and tirelessly played by Brian Farrell, and gifted staging by LizBet Lucca.  Here are some scenes from the (approximately) women's dressing room:

Papageno (John Hansen) and Pamina (Aneta Augustyn), bff.

:

Papagena, pre- (Christina Linton) and Aneta Augustyn (Pamina)

Papageno (John Hansen) and Papagena, definitely pre- (Christina Linton)

Sprites and chorus members:  Lauren Jorgensen, Crystale Mineros, Sara Blanton, Eddie Sayles, Becky Broyles, and some folks' backs (sorry)

The Queen of the Night dresses her own wig, while one of her armored Ladies helps Papagena with her post- gown (Keiko Clark, Coril Prochnow, Christina Linton), and a sprite waits (Destinie Dominguez).

The other two armored Ladies, horribly beweaponed and at the ready (Ariel Pisturino and Debbie Dey).

Benny on da move!

This utterly delightful young man sported these socks & shirt at Old Navy, where he was helping me.  The nicest guy!  His school had held a Socks Day.  He told me that he had also had on a pair of big glasses, but that the school authorities made him take them off.  I imagine cats' eyes, or harlequins, something along those lines.  I like to think that he is giving the Cub Scout salute.  Snaps and shout out to you, Benny!

Kim & Keef, at City Lights, in the poetry attic

check out their blogs

What I'd rather be doing instead of writing that evaluation

Guy on cell phone, and lion.  Paris 7 5 0 0 3.

Red door, Paris 7 5 0 0 3

When new is not better

Our used-to-be favorite cafe in Montparnasse was very proud of its 70s revival makeover.  Too much for jet-lagged eyes first thing in the morning.

Japanese restaurant, shiny table

Lotsa drafts, which I appreciate, believe me, but nothing moving along.  Like having bowls of bread dough rising, nothing ready to bake.

Don't you love food photos...

The real deal:  chocolate-almond macarons, nearly as good as the ones in Paris.  Go to http://www.grouprecipes.com/117745/basic-french-meringue-macaron,-by-helen-mcsweeney,-of-tartelette.html

to see how.  Can't possibly bake them in this hot weather, though.

The old packing house has been turned into a commercial space, but one of the good places is the Thoreau, a bookstore for the Prison Project, dedicated to providing prisoners with reading.  The Thoreau has an excellent vibe, and has made a very welcoming site for local poetry readings.

Van Gogh's little chair...

...in his room in Auvers, where he spent the last two months of his life.

lingerie doll

On a side street deep in Hollywood.

I think I'll wait to post the other poem until it has actually appeared in Sow's Ear.  I don't want to violate the "previously unpublished" requirement.

Yippee-o-kai-yay

The Dog Whisperer, Golden Gate Park

I received a lovely e-mail this morning from Kristin Zimet, the poetry editor of Sow's Ear. She wants to take two poems, "Living with the Black Dog" and "Dignitas", for their next issue.

Rant of the week

I realize that editors of journals and 'zines have many things to do, and I understand if what I have sent them isn't going to work for them (see below). Still, when they request SASEs, I include one. How hard can it be to grab for one of those pre-printed rejection notes (see below), stuff it in the envelope, and drop it in the pile of out-going mail? Seriously, I have waited 335 days for Earth's Daughters, 256 days for Chattahoochee Review, and 227 days for Alimentum. It is rude. Plus, I use my interesting stamps--the Robert Rauschenbergs, the kelp forests--because I know I will (or would) appreciate them when (if) they show up.

The poem you see below is to be read down each column, then across both lines. The first column is taken verbatim from a form rejection letter (in one of those SASEs) that the editor did send me.

Co-axial Response to a Snippy Form Rejection Letter


Since poetry is…….…sparks against darkness, conceived
in general……………..in private, so easily snuffed by
such a subjective…….random draft, made yet not made. Seek
art, I’ve found………..no solace; try to wait, go make a place,
it better not…………...be here. Fear makes us hasty;
to comment…………..too soon is like cursing the unborn,
poems simply do not….like locking up fledglings in a wooden prison
suit……………………that forbids turning to see. But never mind
my personal…………limits. Sparks transform wood.
taste………………….Only what results, emerges—nothing else concerns us.

Cat behind a door, honeycomb tile floor

She wanted so much to be let out, or at least petted, and there was nothing we could do about it.  Union Street, Cow Hollow district, SF

The blue portal to Capt. Nemo's 'comix' shop in SLO.

Marvelous blue sky today.  If I weren't in the house working, I'd never know it was 100+ outside.  The reading went well yesterday, and Russell Salomon effortlessly rewrote two poems I've been working on for...a long time.  Got right to the heart of them and everything.  Shucks.

faded construction address

Poetry reading today at the Claremont Public Library.  I just got burned by splashback fat, preparing tonight's dinner for long slow cooking.  Really interferes with typing...and hurts like a bastard.

Lotsa stuff to write

Trying to catch those notions that appear out of the corner of my eye.  Also trying to engage the left-brain functions so I can finish up an evaluation.

clouds like mountains