I fed her worms, though not this one. This is the first Farrah that spent the winter indoors. Usually they replace her when she hops away to hibernate. Does she appreciate them? Recognize them? How much i don't know!
And now I'm home from Spartanburg & ready to do urban things again, where I have a fighting chance of knowing things.
From Lewis, the aged dachshund, to one Farrah the frog after another, the place is casually full of fauna as well as flora. Wild boar, armadillos, deer, groundhogs ~ the guys have seen all of them or the signs of their presence. Mockingbirds, cardinals, & many other birds. My city instinct is to flinch or startle but I relax after a few days. I'm going home today but I always come back.
They did it! 30 years together & able to take this step only in the last 5 years. Never thought I'd see the day. It was lovely. The justice made everyone comfortable, it only took a few minutes, & they were pronounced Husband & Husband. The first wedding of two men I went to, the officiant simply pronounced them married. Becca, do you remember the language in Brooklyn? Any wedding is moving, & when it's a surprise & you're lucky enough to be in town, all the better.
Little-known fact: Steve & I were once engaged, me to be his beard. But I would have gone through with it if he'd wanted, I who vowed to never get married. That's how much I love him & have his back. But much better Wayne than me!
Didn't manage a good picture of Sylva but I wanted to mention this little town that we often go through between Spartanburg & Murphy. We've gotten familiar with the main street, & usually have lunch here. I try to always buy a book (on Monday headed west, a little anthology of Black Mountain poets) at City Lights bookstore & today I also bought a book (H.D. Trilogy) at a used bookstore a block away. Sylva is the home of Western Carolina College, I believe, & has 2 good bookstores, 1 lousy one, & some decent restaurants.
We came back pretty much the same route ~ & just two days later, a lot of color was gone from the Blue Ridge Parkway.
Almost not minding that Forrister doesn't have wifi (!) except that I'm typing this post on my phone and forgetting the sentence because of the one-by-one words. Not minding because I'm truly relaxing. My resting pulse has gone down 10 points.
It takes all natons to keep the peace, but it only takes one to start a war.
~ Robert A. Heinlein
It takes all people to be sensible, but it only takes one lunatic to destroy truth. OK, not as good a quote but I'm thinking of a NY Times article "Where Facts Were No Match for Fear: Civic boosters in central Montana hoped for some federal money to promote tourism. A disinformation campaign got in the way.". One person with no facts destroyed a long-planned project that had no drawbacks and would have helped the area. Repeat lies enough & people will begin to wonder & then decide it's safer not to proceed when there are still "questions."
We walked on the Cottonwood Trail, which made me mash together Carolina words with cowboy songs. Cottonwood seems like such an out west tree. We did what we do, ate where we always eat, walk around Steve's four acres. I love it here.
I'm here in South Carolina. This is the lake I've been visiting for 50 years. This is the place where I can breathe.
Yay, going away for a week! You, Faithful Reader, will soon be seeing photos of fall foliage from the Blue Ridge Parkway & the delights of Wade's Meat+3 of Spartanburg. I'll leave with a work joke because I'm hoping not to think about semicolons for a week; or if I do, only briefly.
Such a basic pleasure, to bask in a courtyard next to a fountain on a fall day that feels like summer, with people I've known for a long time & really, really like, eating the odds & ends each of us brought, chatting about books & our merry lives. Laughing plenty.
James Maher, as you can see, is a pretty terrific photographer. He sent a link to download this picture along with this: "The potential uses for the technology for art are fascinating and promising but right now my belief is that it's currently abusing art, putting an overly monetary focus on it, and turning into a scammy pyramid scheme."
So he offered this download-to-print giveaway, then continued: "I also want to use this print giveaway as a way to get everyone to print more ... And there you have it, a .jpeg is a wonderful thing. Now if only I could sell one for $30,000."
How art is commodified is so interesting. Luckily it's nigh-impossible to commodify poetry, although Lew Welch famously (& questionably?) came up with Raid Kills Bugs Dead.
When I used to go caroling, always on the Saturday night before Christmas Eve, always the same route around Columbia, & the same people, & the same flask, & always Chris's flashlight in his nose during Rudolph, & Sheila's beautiful voice, & Ethiopian food at the halfway point, I had a little problem that so many of the Christmas songs referred to Christ. I don't know why it is, but Jews have far less issue with saying "Jesus" than with "Christ." When I came up with the idea to substitute "Chrysler" for "Christ" I could sing loud 'n' lusty.
Even now, at this late day, a blank sheet of paper holds the greatest excitement there is for me — more promising than a silver cloud, prettier than a little red wagon.
~ E. B. White
I feel so exactly the same. The one place I want to be, am happiest to be, is with a pen in my hand & a notebook on my lap. I could forget to bathe, do my work, clean the cat litter, but I never forget to write.
Over a year since I'd seen Mike, formerly the most popular cook at B&H. He's now managing a cute place called Matto downtown. Everything, including specialty coffees, is $2.50, $2 if you order in the app. I finally managed to jump on my bike & go down there. Why does everything seem far away that you don't go to every day? Even crossing Houston Street seems impossible a lot of the time, & I live 1/2 a block away. Anyway, we had a beautiful reunion. So great to see him thriving, & already the most popular man on John Street. That man has the gift of friendship.
Here's another example of how the long lockdown has addled my brain. I went out to eat last night with a friend, to Divya's Kitchen. We had a nice outdoor table in a roofed but windowless shed. Food & conversation were just what I needed. Then came the bill. I totally forgot how to tip. Double the tax & round up? A third of the bill for tax & tip? Those pretty much come out the same. Or do they? Then my math skills deserted me. I couldn't add or multiple even the simplest numbers. I still don't know if I undertipped (no such think as overtipping). And it was only 2 people. I am so out of practice! Imagine if I had to recover my flirting skills!
It's not jacket weather in the least, being in the 70s, but it is indeed Jacket Weather if we're talking about Mike DeCapite's terrific book, out at last from Soft Skull. Has any other novelist been able to break your heart at the exact same moment he's making you laugh till you almost throw up?
Read it!
This "Make Your Own Brainard" is totally great & makes me realize (1) how really good at this Joe was & (2) how impatient & unimaginative I am when confronted by directions, let alone images rather than words.
My wise & kind friend Liza just said (slightly edited):
The death of a loved one, especially one's mom or someone terminally ill, is the ultimate example of that thing about which one thinks "That will be HARD" [& they] are HARD, despite and regardless of how much you "knew" it would be. Like the criteria for "hard" is that you cannot be inoculated from the pain sadness rawness simply by anticipating or knowing people or whatever.
This feeling of heaviness stays despite knowing why or that it will eventually disperse or whatever.
I feel like one of those teens who has to carry an egg in a pretend pregnancy. You know it isn't real but it's bothersome & distracting nonetheless.
Thoughts, like fleas, jump from man to man, but they don't bite everybody.
~ Stanislaw Jerzy Lecs
Hmm. I think I would just as soon not get bitten by a lot of the ideas that are hopping around.
Yesterday's reading marked the launch of the Network for New York School Studies, a "meeting place for poets, scholars & enthusiasts" of the so-called New York School of poetry. I say so-called because many poets balk at being included (labeled/limited). I dig it, but I'm a communal kind of gal & I don't have anywhere to call an alma mater. The reading was wonderful & it was wonderful to be together with my old friends & colleagues Anne Waldman, Alice Notley, Maureen Owen, Eileen Myles, & Patricia Spears Jones, with whom I've shared so much history & poetry. People were listening, as Alice said.
Update: If you missed the reading & have any desire to catch it now, here's the link. Worth looking at the transcript, which is rather hilariously inaccurate.
Poets live from Paris, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Colorado & maybe elsewhere. The launch of a new endeavor to study the (so-called) New York School, which no one but me claims to be part of.
(possibly still in progress)
For the Union Dad
shiny as a frog that swallowed a firefly
a tiny car with a large pride flag
an overcoat day makes green greener—
coffee is the most beautiful color
I love gravity
even left-handed gravity
so democratic, except—
Baryshnikov
I await my husband
hoping to get sparkly together
the "d" is silent, the husband is not
the clouds another ridge
of mountains
behind the mountains
1985? What year was that?
I don't know about that look
unless you're going for Amish war bride.
while she just goes around being pretty
your face
must be
in a different
place
than where
I was looking
what disappears when I do?
moons & Junes & sleepiness & rainbells
the sun is in Barbados for the winter
lamplight in the moonlight
and short dogs growing from aloe plants
rosy-fingered Dante & you were crying
where the winter has gone
everyone felt sorry for him
for having a girlfriend
who would put up with behavior like his
I grew up on a cotton candy plantation
we rock back but we'll roll forward
I lived the life I wanted to.
before the 16th century, it was considered vulgar
to know anything
as intimate as the date of your own birth
don't be getting all big boy on me
not on a day as short as a dollar
First Johnny got a new phone, & it was left to me to assemble the case, which involved a video that I watched more than once, & dozens of parts. But it worked & his nice new phone should be safe from his careless ways. Then I upgraded my iPad so I could take advantage of Fitness+'s new offerings, Pilates & Meditation. But that meant I had to upgrade my apple watch, which meant I had to upgrade my phone, which didn't cooperate at first, possibly because I have used up too much storage, even though I got as much as they had when I bought it. Or maybe because everyone was doing the same thing at once. Anyway, it makes me nervous but eventually it all worked & hopefully I can ignore all these machines again for a while. Imagine if your car had to be upgraded over & over. Cars & computers—the things we don't want to have to think about.
This little hitchhiker begged to come home with me. He/she/it was enjoying a fall day just as we were. I bet he had great kicks if he was participating in our karate class from the sidelines.
The Years like great black oxen tread the world,
And God the herdsman goads them on behind,
And I am broken by their passing feet.
~ W.B. Yeats, "The Countess Cathleen"
He wrote this when he was in his mid-twenties. How much more he would be feeling it 4 decades later. Or maybe not? Maybe age is most oppressive when we are young & don't know how much we'll get.
Sponsored by Dell'Arte Opera, it was an hour of music at the Campos Garden on 12th Street, one of the many building-size community gardens in our neighborhood. Four singers each performed two or 3 songs. By "throwdown" I'd gotten the idea we were going to gong 3 of them off the stage & declare a winner. I quite enjoyed the competitive listening but turned out it was a performance not a contest. Which was fine!
I love my neighborhood. People DO things. We saw a play in a courtyard on Avenue B ~ we would have watched longer but couldn't quite hear. There's always something to startle & thrill.
Shabbat shalom from Sholom, my favorite chabadnik, who has been visiting me for 10 years in a good-humored non-insistent futile attempt to get me to study Tanya, which is a Hasidic text. We read Bereshit this week, the beginning of the Torah, "in the beginning," & this Sabbath, he says, is when we make changes ~ rather like New Year's. Not resolutions as much as leaving ourselves open to transformation. Sounds good! A brand-new me!