Tuesday, June 17, 2008

I Went Into A Bar Last Night & All The Women Looked Like Sad Dental Hygenists So I Left & Went Somewhere Else Press

Books I have read in the last week (or am just about to finish) that I hope you will read as well:

The Known World, by Edward P Jones (historical fiction)

The Meat and Spirit Plan, Selah Saterstrom (fiction)

Saline, by Kimberly Lyons (poetry)

Remember how I said I was on an airplane with Brian McKnight and you were probably like "I don't care"? Remember that? Well, now you have to care, because I know that some part of your brain, probably the part you are embarrassed for, recognizes this song AND loves the chorus (to "Back at One):

My favorite part of the chorus (after numbers 1-3):

And four, repeat steps one through three
Five, make you fall in love with me
If ever I believe my work is done
Then I'll start back at one, yeah

Went to sleep with talk radio on & I woke up listening to a discussion on the current sub-prime mortgage crisis. Fun!

Then I drifted back to sleep for a little bit & had this dream:

The swing in my backyard I remember swinging on, but mostly remember from a photo where I'm sitting in the swing. It is a wooden, boxy swing- almost like a wooden egg crate with slats missing so that child-legs can dangle down & kick around. My father pushing me. My mother pushing me. I always wanted them to push harder so I would swing higher. I was fearless. Then, I was. I was. Now I'm standing in my backyard staring at the swing. The thick rope holding it up rots, is black with rot like pirate teeth. Like the trail slugs leave behind them, the reason we never want to be slugs when we think of other things we could be besides human. I yank the rope & I sense that it wouldn't hold my weight if I leaned more heavily on it.

I woke up for a second time feeling unnerved & slapped off the talk radio. Then I lay in bed & thought about the dream. How nothing really happened besides putting weight on an old swing. I know that swing hasn't existed for maybe 15 years. There is just the space between two trees in the backyard of a house my parents are trying to sell right now.

I want to go home & I want to visit my grandmother in Rhode Island. I miss those smells, of old pillows, of the soap closet, of the dirt in the plants hanging in front of the windows. I miss the act of returning & matching up the images & scents in my head/memory with the reality of the actual space. Does the soap closet still smell like almonds?


Two readings tonight. Which one are you going to?

Uncalled-For Reading Series, First Reading!
@ Unnameable Books

Wednesday June 18 2008
7:00 pm

Tamiko Beyer
Ana Božičević
Tisa Bryant
& Daniel Lin

*TAMIKO BEYER'S work has appeared numerous journals including Calyx, Crab Orchard Review, Gay and Lesbian Review, The Progressive, and the anthology Cheers to Muses: Contemporary Work by Asian American Women. She is a Kundiman Fellow and a member of Agent 409, a multi-racial, queer writing group based in New York City. Through the NY Writers Coalition, she leads writing workshops for homeless LGBTQ youth, and she works as a freelance writer. She will be pursing an M.F.A. at the Writing Program at Washington University in St. Louis, beginning in the fall.

ANA BOZICEVIC emigrated to NYC from Croatia in 1997. She's the author of chapbooks Document (Octopus Books, 2007) and Morning News (Kitchen Press, 2006). Fresh poems are forthcoming in the Denver Quarterly, Hotel Amerika, absent, typo, and elsewhere. Ana co-edits RealPoetik with Caroline Conway.

Poet, writer and radical cineaste TISA BRYANT makes work that often traverses the boundaries of genre, culture and history. Her first book, Unexplained Presence (Leon Works, 2007), is a collection of hybrid essays that remix master narratives in film, literature and visual arts to zoom in on the black presences operating within them. She teaches writing at St. John’s University, Queens, lives in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, and is a founding editor/publisher of the hardcover annual, The Encyclopedia Project.

DANIEL LIN has published poems in Chelsea, Verse, Washington Square, Agni and Indiana Review, as well as a chapbook, Tinder, with Nightboat Books. He was a Tennessee Williams Scholar at Sewanee Writers Conference and a NY Times fellow in NYU's graduate writing program. He is currently working on a campus novel.*Unnameable Books can be found at 456 Bergen Street (between Flatbush Ave. & 5th Ave.) in Brooklyn, NY, one half block from the 2/3 at Bergen, or a short walk from 4/5/B/D/N/Q/R at Atlantic/Pacific.Readings are held down one flight of stairs in the basement.



EMERGING VOICES: Writers Published by Groundbreaking Independent Presses
Presented by The New York Center for Independent Publishing
The General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen
20 W 44th Street
New York, NY 10036
Wednesday, June 18, 6:30 PM

HANGING LOOSE PRESS, supporting poetry since 1966, has evolved from a magazine of loose sheets into one of the country's most significant publishing houses. The press publishes fiction as well as poetry, and is dedicated to finding new writers and distinctive voices. Poets and writers, TONY TOWLE (Winter Journey), SHARON MESMER (The Virgin Formica), STEVEN SCHRADER (What We Deserved), and DONNA BROOK (A More Human Face) will read from their work and join editor/poet ROBERT HERSHON (Calls from the Outside World) to discuss the past, present and future of the press.


Maximum Etc said...

yeah but why does the almond closet smell like soap?

Julia Cohen said...

Tt is a weird closet.

It has giant cabinets that you could open and crawl inside. Cadaver sized.

When I was a kid and had to go in their to get bedding or towels, I was always afraid I would open it and find a body lying there. Also, when we played hide and seek, it seemed like the perfect place to hide but I think everyone was a bit too afraid. The closet also has many, many bars of almond scented soap stored in it.

Julia Cohen said...

Also, I wish I had a closet just for almonds. Can you build me one?