Yup, it's been a while. So that's why I'm going to hit you with two things that made me laugh like a person who went to bed at 1am and got up at 5am to go to work because that's how life just is right now:
My friend mistakenly wrote "potential" as "poetnail"
Ew. "I see great poet-nail in you, son" Ew.
And my own dork-sarcastic request to "hang with the gang" as "hang with the hang."
This has promptly become one of my favorite things to say in my head. "Hang with the hang, dude."
Rock 'n roll, deal with it.
And yes, I plan to go to bed early tonight so that my punch-drunk-ness subsides tomorrow. Long week and it's only half over. Being drained is precarious at work- it means that I sort of did this 80's-backstep-runningman-dance-move right into the VP yesterday, which was my failed attempt to ask a co-worker about lunch who was across the office.
My little wreckless arms & legs. My head spins like a pinwheel. Little bird can you beak me a nest?
As I said, tomorrow there is a RealPoetik reading I'll be at. However, this reading does have an apocalyptic rival, straight from the editor of the anthology's mouth:
What: Apocalypse Reader reading. Shelley Jackson, Diane Williams, Matthew Derby, & Jared Hohl will read from their short stories that were published in The Apocalypse Reader, an anthology of new and selected fiction about the end of the world that came out way back in June of this year. I will be presenting my authors, and following the reading there will be a Q&A and book signing. Books will be available for sale at the event.
When: Thursday, October 4th. 7 PM.
Where: Wollman Hall at The New School (5th floor of the 11th street building; enter at 66 W. 12th street, cross through courtyard)
Nice things they've said about us: "a vivid collection" – LA Times
"so engrossing, so explosively creative that I wound up reading well into the early morning hours" – Huffington Post
"there may be no collection that better demonstrates the range and possibility of the story form" – Paste Magazine
"deliciously entertaining" – The Villager
I went to see the Mountain Goats and the BowerBirds on Monday with KA. Oh the Bowerbirds made me swoon. A girl languidly playing a big drum and then switching to the accordian is hot. And the guy who sings sang very clearly so that all of his words sounded even better than on their album. I came to hear them, to be honest. The Mountain Goats are 90s beseeching emo-rock to me, which I have a place in my heart for, I do. The voice, the guitars, you got me. Ok?
This is a sad Neruda poem:
Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks
All these fellows were there inside
when she entered, utterly naked.
They had been drinking, and began to spit at her.
Recently come from the river, she understood nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The taunts flowed over her glistening flesh.
Obscenities drenched her golden breasts.
A stranger to tears she did not weep.
A stranger to clothes, she did not dress.
They pocked her with cigarette ends and with burnt corks,
and rolled on the tavern floor in raucous laughter.
She did not speak, since speech was unknown to her.
Her eyes were the color of faraway love,
her arms were matching topazes.
Her lips moved soundlessly in coral light,
and ultimately, she left by that door.
Hardly had she entered the river than she was cleansed,
gleaming once more like a white stone in the rain;
and without a backward look, she swam once more,
swam to nothingness, swam to her dying.
That was one of the poems I loved in high school. I think I appreciated the quiteness of the walking mermaid, her sort of half-understanding and half-quiet rejection of this world. And the sadness does not come from her turning away from the raucous incivility that is civilization, it comes from turning towards the nothingness. The sadness in that Neruda sees no alternative. But of course, you were not born in a watery grave, you are not the stranger to speech & cloths, so you must talk and dress in a way that makes you and those you love the white stone in the rain. Maybe that's the hardest trick of all. But we must always be trying, no? To put salve on the cork-burn. It's not about backwards glances, it's about trying to include those you love in the open glances you give, or about opening the glance. Ok, that's my emo-Neruda-schpeel for the day.
YouTube suddenly won't let me have emdedded links to music videos. How do I fix that? I was going to hit you with some Babyface but now I can't.