The sea, the sea, and poetry

Up to Mystic for a night and back, the weather so warm we swore it was summer but for the mostly bare tree branches. A perfect getaway, tooling around Watch Hill and Westerly, RI. Today, the Feile-Festa literary journal readings at the Mulberry St. Library in NYC, nice turn-out, the issue looks splendid with stunning photographs of Ellis Island, and of course, great content. Link to the website which will probably be updated soon (last issue's writings make for a good read, too).
http://www.medcelt.org/feile-festa/index.html

Sky Magnolias

Pinkalicious, the name of a popular children's book that I ordered for the library for one of my four year old "regulars" who only wore pink (that was last year, lately she seems to have moved onto other colors). But ah, today I am set my mind to indoor tasks, finally tackling some giant piles of papers, some editing, and it has to go and be all pink-scented and fabulous outside.

It's just an enormous soul WOW sometimes to step outside the door into the day.

Just like that

Amazing how it just happens, Spring, just like that. One minute gray, the next - whump! You've got forsythia and magnolias blooming all over the place. The magnolia tree is my neighbors, always love that it nods onto our driveway; one of my favorite trees. Tonight we watched the movie my youngest gave me for my birthday, Enchanted, which was delightful - but now I cannot get the "Happy Little Working Song" tune out of my head - especially since my daughter had one of her pet rats dancing to the music. Why all these pets cannot do household chores is beyond me, the least they could do is a wee bit of scrubbing here and there in exchange for snackies, yes? Maybe we need to keep singing to them.

The one and only Emily Pajamas

She's looking good for an old gal. Fourteen and a half which translates into what in people years? I followed her around the yard forever trying to get her to pose, but she is deaf so my calls to look up went unheeded. Here she is wondering what my daughter is saying to her - looking very patient if a bit bewildered by all our armwaving and nonsense (she is sooooo used to our nonsensical ways by this point in time...).

yardwork antics

A break in the Spring clean-up of the yard. It's actually bloomed up quite a bit since the week or so ago this picture was taken. In the meantime, a large coyote has taken to wandering through the yard - spotted at night which seems reasonable in an animal kingdom sort of way, but now he is cruising in the midafternoon. A neighbor said he might be a coydog - half coyote and half dog since he is so big (and yet so obviously coyote). None of this seems to bode well for the neighborhood cats or my two little dogs. The old girl is deaf and arthritic, the younger one does not have much sense. Worrisome.

When we came back from Vermont last year, we read a post about all the wild creatures...and we thought how in twenty years of visiting Vermont, we have seen dogs (not feral), bunnies (but in a box for sale), and a snake. Here in a 'burb right outside of Manhattan we have had the following stroll through (or fly above) the yard: deer, skunks, weasel, bunnies, tortoise, wild turkeys, groundhogs, pheasant, fox, hawks, raccoons, owls, bats, rats, mice, voles, chipmunks and squirrels, a variety of birds, and now coyote. Not to mention cats and dogs, of course, and a small boy wearing a gardening bag on his head.

Poetry Reading in NYC

If you happen to be in NYC on Saturday, April 26th, there will be a launch for the Spring 2008 issue of Feile-Festa, a literary arts journal, from 3:00-4:30 at the Mulberry Street Branch Library (10 Jersey Street, NYC). Come meet and greet, come hear some great poetry and writing, come cheer me on when I read my poem. Spring and art in the city, what could be more inspiring?

Mr. Grimshaw update and birthday kvetching

The ever elusive and camera shy Mr. Grimshaw was not pleased with me - it took about twelve shots to get anything of him at all, especially since the tank is on a dresser wedged in a corner - same corner he likes to hide in.

He now has all four legs - when the last one (front) was coming in, he seemed quite disturbed - a frog version of teen angst, I imagine. Now he has all legs and his tail (which is providing him nourishment as his mouth changes) is rapidly diminishing. He tried a bit of a couple froggie moves the other day, kicking action, even head poking out of the water, very cool. I think he is discovering there may be some adventures linked to his new form.

How must it feel to turn from one creature to another? As my Wednesday birthday approaches, I could say something about aging turning me into some other sort of creature... my youngest son cannot imagine not being THRILLED about a birthday and gaining another year.

Move over, Mr. Grimshaw, I may join you.

Images

What's more powerful - the imprint on your mind from a book or a movie? Reading Black Juice, short stories by Margo Lanagan, (note her blog to the side, Among Amid While), the kind of characters and stories you think about after the book is closed. And just saw I am Legend which probably had more visual impact for me just because I know the (NY) city - if it was in Los Angeles like the original novel, would it have had the same impact? It reminds me of Jurassic Park, we came out of the movies in Wilton, Ct (very quiet) and could almost hear raptors rustling in the leaves as we walked to our car. Of course, the main question is how am I going to go to sleep now that I've scared myself to pieces?

Boy Toys and April at last

The real deal, not Madonna's version. I love walking into my son's room and seeing the strange assemblages of creatures, old Halloween masks, alien invaders, and the occasional stuffed animal toy squooshed in there as well. Rather horrible day countered by the fact that winter is behind us. Hope is a thing called sweater weather.

Blast from the past

Reading http://nyrb.typepad.com/classics/ and surprised to see a piece about the Paris bookstore Shakespeare & Company http://www.shakespeareco.org/ . I clicked on the links and there were the windows I remember looking out of with very sleepy eyes when I crashed on a sleeping bag on the floor in the late '70's, (my second week there, a bed upstairs emptied out so I got a mattress). The beds were placed here and there around the bookstore and if George liked you, he'd let you stay (you had to convince him you were a book lover). The perks were a free place to crash, an ever changing mix of people passing through (each with an interesting story to tell) and any books you wanted to read. You also had to help out a little bit in the shop which I enjoyed. He came off as gruff but was actually quite kind, and he put up with all of us starry-eyed travelers passing through - I think he enjoyed our vagabond dreams as much as we did. I remember being so pleased when he gave me a rare compliment for dealing with a difficult customer in a polite but firm way with my high school french. The kind of experience you look back on and think, hey, I did do some pretty cool stuff back in the day.

the kind of gray

I know I saw buds on the forsythia, but we are still clutched in gray here.

Currently reading: Go With Me by Castle Freeman, Jr.

Recently viewed: Invincible - great football movie since it is about, as old great football movies are, overcoming.

Of note: Mr. Grimshaw has one front foot out. I'll keep you posted.

sorting, sorting...

Still sick, clearing out a basket of papers and lists of books to get to: Alice Hoffman's Skylight Confessions - one of my favorite things about having an essay in Brain, Child was that it appeared in the same issue as an essay by her. Such fantastic company! Donate your shoes clipping: www.soles4souls.org, why not? beautiful house shots of a jewelery designer's dwelling in Bali..., she's young, beautiful, and carefree, and I am holding onto this why? Toss. NPR's American Life: Stories of Hope & Fear audio...why can't I interlibrary loan this? No library in Westchester has it. Well, last time I tried listening to stories in my car, I drove through a red light when they got to the good part. The Seventh Daughter, a memoir/cookbook of Cecilia Chiang sounds like a must get to eventually, as does the 1080 Recipes best-selling cookbook in Spain. Two biz cards, keep. Program from my son's first Sacrament of Holy Eucharist, keep. Notes about a short story I am working on (I say that in the loosest possible manner since I tend to work on many projects at once in a vague manner until something kicks in and I go into a take no prisoners writing mode). A note about what would be a funny name for a goat. Hmmm. Notes on a middle reader that has two chapters completed...in a vague way (see above)... submission guidelines to Greatcoat, a lit journal that had a nice tone (important to avoid snarkiness). Pages of notes about illustrators I like that draw animals and people well...long story. Notes on where I want to live (Isla Negra) only reinvented. email about agents and writing from one of my old friends who is in way better health and that news made me deeply happy this morning. More sorting ....

I heart e.e. cummings

"...where

always

it's

Spring) and everyone's

in love and flowers pick themselves."

we got the fever

"Eggs are eggs," he barked. Yup, the dog thinks we are being far too artsy- well, you know, with these Easter eggs. Especially when there are far more crucial things to do like chasing squirrels and threatening cats (well, actually the last cat he took on beat him up - as you can see, he's not that much bigger than an egg). Well, we're home sick, got Spring fever on top of sore throats and headaches...Moky, go chase something.

Egg-cellent!

Mr. Grimshaw

Mr. Grimshaw now has rear legs and is working on the front ones. According to our worthy dime purchase of a used book, Frogs, once his front legs sprout he will cease eating (algae tablets, plants) and only use the food stored in his tail as his mouth will be changing and make it impossible for him to eat.

He is named after a trip to Vermont where our youngest, only five at the time, insisted we call him Mr. Grimshaw for most of the trip and also on calling me "Mean Judy". I am not named Judy and I don't think I am mean, but I think that was besides the point. Not sure what the point was actually.

poetry season

I write more poetry in summer than other seasons. Perhaps it is because in summer my husband removes the giant tropical plant that has been with him longer than I have, and is housed in an urn that weighs about the same as my car. This plant is ceremoniously carried outside when summer's heat is a sure thing and then the white bookcase, where most of my poetry books live, is free to access. Now, in yet iffy weather with possible frosts and the long chills of spring, I am crouched on the rug trying to snake a hand behind the urn and retrieve various books...and I end up with the unexpected, a notebook filled with gathered children's poems, Necessary Light by Patricia Fargnoli, Weather Central by Ted Kooser, all good things, but not the thing I set out for...no matter. I have earlier already sent two poems to a friend - a poem is a good envelope to wrap your heart in.
Once you dip into a poem, your mind kicks into poem mind, and like a Zen mediation, tosses the monkey mind with all its annoying and mindless prattles off over the hedge for awhile. Reading poems sets your mind to writing poems. Gets you thinking poem mind, better mind, connected to your soul mind. All good things worth doing and worth waiting for - like summer. When the plant gets moved - it gets sun, I get poetry. Good deal.

Some good silly and Dan Zanes

This is the most inane thing I have seen in a long time - so of course I have watched it a couple of times....http://youtube.com/watch?v=Dt4zvJNXbdI . Thanks to J. for turning me on to it but maybe not for keeping me up so late...oh exhaustion. Amazing how funny stuff is at one thirty in the morning that might not be otherwise.
Not just for the kids:
Been listening to Dan Zanes' Catch That Train cd in my car on my way to work - especially love the Miss Mary Mack song done Zanes style. A link to his webpage: http://www.danzanes.com/pages/news.php
His song, Jump Up, from the picture book of same name with cd inside, is the perfect thing to play if you are on your way to work (especially with children and the public) and need to get up and into a good mood.
http://www.ibiblio.org/slanews/surveys/salary.html this amuses. Particularly the Ulster Scots. Well particularly to me anyway... (image of Scottish guy shaking his head and typing it...maybe you have to be part Scotttish). At any rate, a great and creative response to computer glitches.

and I am grateful for...

I never get the whole celebrity thing - those contests where you can win lunch with someone famous. I think why would I want to eat with them, make uncomfortable small talk across the table, pretend I saw their movie, whatever. Then my daughter pointed out who my rock stars are...poets and writers. Yup, leave it to the kids to set you straight. So here's one of those people who writes words that find me when I forget I need to be found, words that help me remember the best parts of myself, the parts I am always losing in my everydayness. Assorted links for your edification and pleasure: http://www.xanga.com/cornbreadonfire/644159984/lucille-clifton.html, http://www.english.uiuc.edu/maps/poets/a_f/clifton/clifton.htm, http://www.blueflowerarts.com/lclifton.html, http://www.loc.gov/today/cyberlc/feature_wdesc.php?rec=3656,http://www.literacyrules.com/Weekly_Poem/bylucilleclifton.htmhttp://www.literacyrules.com/Weekly_Poem/bylucilleclifton.htm, and need I say the obvious - get thee to a library and read their poetry books, get thee to a (small, independent) bookstore and buy their poetry books. Especially Lucille Clifton. Whom I would love to eat lunch with.

HBO teen poets

An HBO special, Reading Your Heart Out, was just on (catch it if you can) on young teens (none over 14) reading poems they have written about their families to their families. The poems: raw, honest, painful, were intense and direct. What amazed me was that they read their poems to their families. I so admired their bravery and also the bravery of these parents to stand there and listen to words full of accusations and hurt. It seems the lot of parents and teenagers to have a chasm between them. I have seen the look of "you're not listening" frustration shadow my own children's faces even as I strain to make it clear I am listening. I think they say oranges and I hear apples. I say apples and they hear pears. Maybe it has to be that way so they can pull away and become their own people, separate. As parents, you just hope they know they are loved. As human beings in the world, you know that even their knowing that is still not enough to shield them from life's difficulties. But bravo for the courage on both sides to keep trying.

"We are all so afraid, we are all so alone, we all so need from the outside the assurance of our own worthiness. "
- Ford Madox Ford, The Good Soldier