Ciao for now

I am half-dead this morning. And I am still frazzled from clinic yesterday. At this point, I just need to get dressed, pack some last minute stuff, and head off to the airport with Jacob. At least, at this AWP, the book is finally officially out. At least I don't have to walk around wondering what happened at Zoo and how I was going to get the book published. This time, the book is printed, the press is there, all is good.


*************************


Sad when you just get up to think: Get me a Mai Tai. But that is the kind of week I have had. Mostly, I think I am going to sleep on the plane. And I know Delta doesn't serve Mai Tai's.


*************************


See some of you in Atlanta.


*************************


Clue: Where else


*************************

On the Eve of the Madness

Off to Atlanta tomorrow at the crack of dawn. Something tells me that this time I will not be mistaken for a music mogul and given an opulent suite at the top of the hotel. O Atlanta! How I love and hate you at the same time.


*************************


Beyonce - St. Sebastien - Beyonce - St. Sebastien - She loves me - He loves me not


*************************


My practice partner's time on the jury is STILL going on! So, alone in clinic again today and we are hosting an open house in the department tonight. Then I race home, pack my suitcases, pester Jacob, go to bed, wake up, fly out. Uggghhh! It all sounds like yuck. I wish I could just beam myself there like on Star Trek.


*************************


To my friend in Las Vegas: lettin' only one person into your pants is NOT a bad thing.


*************************


Remember, come visit me at the Four Way Books Table (#90) on Friday from 3 to 4pm. You don't want me being lonely and dejected while 50 billion people get Jeffrey Harrison to sign a copy of his book for them, do you? And I will be spending a little bit of time at the NER/Bread Loaf Table. And well, Jacob and I will be hanging out in the hotel bar and/or Trader Vics. Say hi. We don't bite, unless you are our friends.


*************************


Clue: Pleistocene


*************************

What the .... (part 2)

The folks at Swiggler are at it again. I swear they are out of control. You may remember this bit of craziness, now we have this. I don't know who they polled, but this is bizarre. I mean, Isabella Rossellini? Oh pu-leeeze!


Top Ten Female Celebrities Gay Men Would Be Willing to Bone

1. Beyonce
2. Jessica Simpson
3. Uma Thurman
4. Claudia Schiffer
5. Lucy Liu
6. Jennifer Lopez
7. Naomi Campbell
8. Angelina Jolie
9. Isabella Rossellini
10. Madonna

(from Swiggler)


I swear some of the men polled had to be straight. Jessica Simpson? Lucy Liu? Sounds like the fantasies of some of my straight friends.

Moon Day

We actually watched the tail end of the Oscars last night. Not sure why. We never get as into Oscars as other friends of our do. I mean, it always seems long and kind of tedious. Ellen Degeneres did a great job, much better than I would have expected. Comedians hosting the Oscars are many times made not funny by the stupid scripts and hokey crap the Oscar people dream up. But she was good.


**************************


Suddenly the end of the month is upon us. February went way too quickly.


**************************


Yup, I definitely killed off the draft of a poem I started in Tahoe. Besides the first line being a knock off of one of my own poems, there were too many recurring images, words, etc. from other poems of mine. Every time I looked at it, I thought it was an imitation of me. Bad. Very bad. I fed it to the trash can yesterday.


**************************


Clue: Red Cross


**************************

Not Sure How I Missed This

As some of you know, Seth Abramson, that wiley lawyer-poet, has been trying to come up with a quantitative way to rank MFA Programs in Poetry for prospective applicants. To date, he has, on his blog, calculated an ungodly number of permutations, many of which I don't fully understand (but that is another story). Anyway, this is something I found very interesting. After doing multiple ways of ranking programs (looking at all kinds of parameters I won't go into here, but you are free to peruse his blog for all of them), he discovered this:


The Fifteen Schools Which Have Appeared in the Top 25 in Every 2007 Creative Writing Program Ranking (Listed Alphabetically)

Brown University
Cornell University
Columbia University
Indiana University
Johns Hopkins University
New York University
Syracuse University
University of Florida
University of Iowa
University of Houston
University of Massachusetts
University of Michigan
University of Texas
University of Virginia
Washington University at St. Louis


By "Every 2007 Creative Writing Program Ranking", he is referring to the countless number he has done on his blog. Why I find this interesting is that it is almost exactly the list I was given in 1990 when I was thinking about applying to MFA programs! I mean, it is almost uncanny. I was given a list of 20 programs, and all of these programs here were on that list. I am still trying to process this. The three programs I applied to back then are all in this list. Mark you, back then there were only about 70 MFA Programs.

Symmetry and Luck

The reading last night was good. Both Rick and Paisley read longish poems, which was interesting seeing people rarely read them. There was a good turnout for a Saturday night. Good fun. Paisleys new book, The Invention of the Kaleidoscope, should be amazing. I have read quite a number of the poems in magazines over the past few years. I got myself a copy and hope to read it soon.


*************************


Dana Goodyear's article continues to spur discussion and cogitation.


*************************


Ellen Bryant Voigt receives a full-page stand-alone review in this week's NYTBR. She deserves it. Reading Messenger, I was humbled immensely.


*************************


My practice partner is still on a jury, which will make the next two days in clinic hellish before we leave for AWP. So, more errands to run today. For those of you will be at AWP, I will be signing books at the Four Way Books Table (#90) on Friday from 3:00pm to 4:00pm. Stop to say hi even if you aren't buying a book. I don't want to sit there all lonely while Jeffrey Harrison signs a million copies of his book.


*************************


I have no explanation why, but I have this poem in my head this morning.


LUCKY


If you are lucky in this life,
you will get to help your enemy
the way I got to help my mother
when she was weakened past the point of saying no.


Into the big enamel tub
half-filled with water
which I had made just right,
I lowered the childish skeleton
she had become.


Her eyelids fluttered as I soaped and rinsed
her belly and her chest,
the sorry ruin of her flanks
and the frayed gray cloud
between her legs.


Some nights, sitting by her bed
book open in my lap
while I listened to the air
move thickly in and out of her dark lungs,
my mind filled up with praise
as lush as music,


amazed at the symmetry and luck
that would offer me the chance to pay
my heavy debt of punishment and love
with love and punishment.


And once I held her dripping wet
in the uncomfortable air
between the wheelchair and the tub,
until she begged me like a child


to stop,
an act of cruelty which we both understood
was the ancient irresistible rejoicing
of power over weakness.


If you are lucky in this life,
you will get to raise the spoon
of pristine, frosty ice cream
to the trusting creature mouth
of your old enemy


because the tastebuds at least are not broken
because there is a bond between you
and sweet is sweet in any language.


--Tony Hoagland, from Donkey Gospel


*************************


Clue: How to Save a Life...


*************************

Left Out

Lots of errands to run today before we head off to Atlanta. Hard to believe it is almost the end of February already.


*************************


We are crossing the Bay tonight to go hear Rick Barot and Paisley Rekdal read at Black Oak Books in Berkeley around 7:30pm. It will be good to see Rick and Paisley as well as other friends who will no doubt be there.


*************************


I now want one of those printer/copiers/fax machines. I feel left out.


*************************


Was I surprised by the four people voted off America Idol this week? No. Was I surprised at some of the folks who stayed when they should have gone? Yes!


*************************


Clue: Jasmine


*************************

The Note

The 12-13 hour days in clinic this week have worn me down. I really am tired. I cannot believe I used to be able to do this at all hours of the day and night. Yup, I am getting old. I come home after 13 hours in clinic working almost non-stop, no lunch, no time to do much, and I am exhausted. I used to be able to come home and even then go out for a drink or something. Now I just come home, watch TV, and go to bed so I can get up at 5 AM. Getting old for sure.


*************************


I had that being in the woods dream again, except this time I walked into a small cabin where someone had lit a fire and left the cabin open. There was a note on a table addressed to me, but I cannot remember what the note said. So odd.


*************************


I want to edit an anthology titled What I Like. I am already in talks with folks at Random House.


*************************


You know that was a joke, right?


*************************


Clue: Apotheosis


*************************

Spun Gold

It is hard to believe it has been 20 years since Andy Warhol passed away. We miss you Andy. I mean, how many people would get away with saying things like "Dying is the most embarrassing thing that can ever happen to you, because someones got to take care of all your details." Can't you just hear the catty queen in that? You just have to love Andy Warhol. What a freak. What a beautiful freak.


*************************


The new issue of MiPo is out, guest edited by Evie Shockley.


*************************


Will try to check back in here later. Have to head out to the hospital. Rough week to be by myself in clinic. Rough week.


*************************


And because a couple of people requested:



MAELSTROM

[Vanished]

--C. Dale Young, from The Second Person
(appeared originally in Ploughshares)



*************************


Clue: Special Handling


*************************

Glint

Charlie finally reveals his secret. Go wish him Congrats!


**************************


Did you know that Four Way Books has a blog?


**************************


Still in clinic. Not getting out of here anytime soon.


**************************


Clue: Mr. Bungadecko


**************************

Saved by Zero

Just yesterday, someone made the following comment: "I'm sorry, but sometimes I really think you guys (gays) have a persecution complex." Well, this is why we do! On almost any day of the year, one can find an article like this in a newspaper. So, yeah, I guess we have a persecution complex.


*************************


Remember I was just saying that I had a hard time figuring out the end of the new poem I drafted? Well, I just figured out why I am having problems. I just got proofs for a longish poem of mine due out shortly in Gulf Coast. The first line of the draft is almost exactly the same as the opening line of this poem about to be published. No wonder my crackpot comment seemed like the start of a poem to Jacob. It was already the start of one of my poems. Sadly, this draft I have must be discarded. So, I am back to zero poems for the year. See, this is what happens when I get the first line first. This would never have happened if I had gotten the last line first.


*************************


If you are going to be at AWP, don't forget to stop by the Four Way Books table. I will be there on Friday afternoon signing hot-off-the-presses books. More info soon.


*************************


Thinking again about the poetry of Carlos Drummond de Andrade. Need to re-read his stuff soon.


*************************


I was so not wowed by the performances last night on guy night of Idol. I mean, it was pretty bad. I was quite shocked, however, at Blake (the guy with the spiked up blond hair) who previously annoyed the crap out of me with his beatbox idiocy. He surprised me because he was actually pretty good. I didn't see that coming at all. His was the only performance last night that seemed viable and not karaoke. And I thoroughly enjoyed Simon Cowell referring to Ryan Seacrest as sweetheart. Hahahaha! made me laugh. Seacrest is sooooo vomit in one's mouth!


*************************


Clue: Louis Vuitton


*************************

Sorry

Sorry. No time today to post. Alone in clinic. Check back later. I may post when I get home from clinic.

BACK

Made it back to SF, finally. 5.5 hours. Jeez.


*************************


Need to tinker with the new poem. The ending isn't right. This is what happens when I don't know the last line first: I am not sure how to end the poem!


*************************


Clue: Sayonara Tokyo!


*************************

Gung Hay Fat Choy!

Happy New Year! This is not just the year of the pig but of the Golden Pig. I believe that only comes around every 600 years.


*************************


I was waiting on Jacob to get off of his cell phone yesterday. I walked up to a dollar slot machine, put in $20, spun the reels, and 7 - 7 - double diamond came up. Just like that I won $320.00.


*************************


Re-read Ilya Kaminsky's Dancing in Odessa yesterday. It really is a great book. I have lost track of Ilya. I don't think he lives in the Bay Area anymore.


*************************


Brunch today with one of Jacob's grandmothers. Both of his Grandmothers live up here in the Tahoe-Reno area.


*************************


I drafted my first poem of the year yesterday. On the drive up, I blurted out something, and Jacob said, "That sounds like a line from one of your poems." Well, it ended up being the first line of the poem. The poem is far from finished, but it felt good to write the first new one of the year.


*************************


In the dream last night, there were these woods, and I couldn't seem to figure out which direction was north or east or anything. Creepy hooting owls. Strange little tags and ties on things, as if others had left markers to get around. The air was crisp. There were fireplaces going. And I walked and walked trying to get somewhere but couldn't seem to find it. It was really odd.


*************************


I know some of you out there are anti-Amazon, so I thought I would let you know that Four Way Books now has its Spring books up for pre-order. I suspect ordering from them directly might be the quickest way to get these books. It still says late March/early April for shipping. But you never know. Forrest Hamer's new book is due out around the same time, as is John Gallaher's and others. Check them out.


*************************


Clue: Red Envelope


*************************

O Fortuna, Part Two

The drive up to Tahoe was not as painful yesterday as I had remembered from previous trips. It is just that I have ADD, and sitting in a car for a really long time drives me nuts. I get punchy. I start making Jacob crack up. I notice the incongruities of life, like the fact Californians cannot drive. I mean, as a group, we suck! The worst thing about CA drivers? They have no concept other people are driving on the road with them. They will all drive 60 across three lanes of traffic without any concept others may want to pass! And then there are other oddities of the trip, like the fact Verdi is pronounced Ver-dye. I am dead serious. All of that said, the trip up was filled with vistas and scenery, snow and mountain passes. Gorgeous.


*************************


When I argue and make comments, unless I call someone by name or address something to someone specifically, do not presume I am speaking specifically to you. Hello? This is cyberspace. Everything I write is not directed at YOU. When you read things I write and internalize that as a comment specifically for you and then spew off catty crap at me, it just makes YOU look foolish. Anyone can visit the Muse, but that doesn't mean I HAVE to take shit from any of you. If you don't agree with me, move on. I am not intolerant of other viewpoints. I just won't put up with nastiness directed at me. And unlike the past where I would shrug off threatening emails or other such crap, I won't do that anymore. I will simply forward them to the appropriate law enforcement agencies (now that I know which ones handle threats). Email and threaten me all you want, but then deal with the consequences. End. Of. Story.


*************************


Jacob walked up to a Wheel of Fortune slot machine last night while we were out. He sat down and literally two minutes later got the bonus. He spun the wheel and won $500.00. Dinner was on Jacob last night. Ha!


*************************


Have you noticed that some of the newer fountain pens are making their feeds from weird epoxy-rubber? They don't deliver ink to the page the way the older fountain pens do. And they get clogged up more easily.


*************************


Now that folks have started getting announcements, I think it safe to announce David Roderick's other good news: He won the Amy Lowell Poetry Traveling Scholarship. Congratulations, David! This is awesome news for you.


*************************


Clue: Saddleback


*************************

Flicker

The discussion continues over at ADT's place. I love the zeal and fervor these things spark, especially because most people don't really read what people write. They read and see what they want to see. Anyone can write a poem. I strongly believe this. Anyone. What I love is how bent out of shape people get at this notion. They quote pseudo-Marxist BS about education and class, but this is all predicated on being a recognized artist and not on my statement that anyone can write a poem. Notice I have never said that anyone can publish poems and be recognized as an artist. Many people can, but not everyone writes poems others deem good enough to publish. The act of writing is a joyous thing, the act of creation. I don't care what you do in your life. If you want to write poems, you can. Sure, you can pose all kinds of excuses. And then comes the real thing that seems to be covertly discussed here: If you only want to write poems to be published and to be recognized, then you are (pardon my language) fucked. That is, for the most part, an unrealistic goal. Anyway, enough of that.


*************************


Chinese New Year is quickly approaching. This is very cool.


*************************


Remember that time when almost no one had a cell phone? I kind of miss that time.


*************************


The eternal flame. The flame in the heart of Jesus. The same one kept burning in the Church, the one you spy out of the corner of your eye when you start to zone out at Mass. How did that come to be? There must be a story behind why this flame is depicted in Art and why it has been perpetuated. Fire as cleansing agent? Fire as reckless and all the more powerful when controlled? some write that it is at the center, but the heart is not central in our bodies. It is also not beautiful. The heart is an ugly thing. It is tough, powerful, but ultimately flawed.


*************************


Clue: Highways and byways


*************************

When It Rains It Pours

I feel like a zombie. I cannot believe I used to work day in day out on less than 4 hours of sleep. I only got 5 hours last night, and I am feeling it today. Need to go drink a few glasses of water and pray the old adage of an 8 oz. glass equals a half-hour of sleep is still true.


*************************


Came home today to find the instantly recognizable SASE's for two different submissions I sent out some time ago. I was quite thrilled to find that Yale Review and The Southern Review each took a poem of mine. Both magazines hold very special places in my heart. The Southern Review was my second magazine publication, and I have been lucky to contribute a number of poems to their pages over the years. And Yale Review holds a spot in my heart because I have always admired the work Sandy McClatchy does there. He was, and continues to be, a role model for me in terms of being both a poet and an editor. Yale Review is the place I worry the most about sending work because I don't want to disappoint him. Hard to explain this further. Basically, I know he is among the most demanding editors out there. I send him what I hope is my very best.


*************************


We drive up to Tahoe tomorrow for the long weekend and to hang out with Jacob's grandmothers. Bringing a bunch of poetry books with me to read. Recently finished Embryoyo, Dean Young's latest, which opens with one of my favorite poems he has ever written, "Luciferin." Also just finished Rigoberto Gonzalez's Other Fugitives and Other Strangers. It is a dark and sensual book, gorgeous. I am excited to read this weekend. The stack of books I have that I want to read for me is getting out of control.


*************************


Clue: Pasternak


*************************

Note from the "Aristocrat"

Didn't get enough sleep last night. Tired. Busy. Tired some more.


**************************


The last time I checked, I was not a neo-con. Yup, still a liberal Democrat.


**************************


I could say something here that would probably not be kind. But internal sensors are at max today. If I turn them down a little, I would probably be writing about argumentative tactics and rhetoric.


**************************


Clue: Not in the Mood!


**************************

Sorry, Just Can't Help Myself...

Okay, I just couldn't resist one last weirdo heart candy. As ADT says, I am "Mr. Candy Curmudgeon."


**************************


I am praying tonight's menu includes that amazing potato leek dauphin with the cabernet reduction. Oh dear God. That thing is almost like tasting heaven.


**************************


Yes, I am cranky lately. It makes me crankier when you write to tell me I am cranky!


**************************


And what do you mean I am not a language poet?! Of course I am a language poet. I use language, don't I? (Oh, I am just kidding. I know I am not a language poet. But so what?) We are all different. And that is not necessarily a bad thing.


**************************


What are people doing for the long Presidents Day Weekend?


**************************


Clue: What is tatooed on my back!


**************************

Silly In My Chest

Yes, Happy Valentine's Day y'all! Welcome to Hallmark's claim to fame! Okay, I am not really that curmudgeonly. Okay, well, a little bit.


*************************


Rodney Jones wins the Kingsley Tufts and is now $100,000. richer.


*************************



33RD & KIRKHAM



[Vanished]


--C. Dale Young, from The Second Person: Poems (Four Way Books, 2007)
[appeared originally in TriQuarterly]


*************************


I do now wish I had today off. Of course, this is the case. Grass is always greener.


*************************


I don't need a holiday to say this: "I love you, Jacob."


*************************


Clue: Night-blooming Jasmine


*************************

Bottle-pa-looza

Congratulations to my good friend David Roderick. He was offered and accepted a job teaching in the MFA Program at the University of North Carolina-Greensboro. He also has other good news, but that is a secret, for now.


**************************


Going on a double date tomorrow night for Valentine's Day. We are having dinner with our friends Ron and Kevin at our favorite French bistro in the city, Chapeau! The exclamation point is part of the name and not me being ultra drama.


**************************


I was going to post this tomorrow but realized it might not be seen as so funny on the actual day of Valentines Day. I do think it is hysterical. I always hated those effing candy hearts when I was a kid.




**************************


I will be glad when this day is over.


**************************


Started getting e-vites for various things at AWP. Jacob and I totally need an AWP calendar. Maybe I will set one up tonight when I get home.


**************************


I won't say who asked me this, but someone asked me if I kissed Eduardo at the last AWP. Well, no, I did not kiss Eduardo at the last AWP. I was not present for the now infamous blogger-spin-the-bottle-pa-looza. Yes, I have a blog. Yes, I was at AWP last year. But that does not mean I was a part of bottle-pa-looza. Ask Charlie Jensen. He can vouch for the fact I was not there. How? Because HE WAS THERE!


**************************


Clue: Ripped


**************************

Not Here

There is a recurring dream I have been having since I was around 16 years old. I have it often, usually every few months or so. The scene changes, but the action is always the same. Essentially, I will be in a place like a school or at the hospital or any number of places. At some point, I will start to notice that I am getting lighter and lighter. Always, in the dream, an incredible sense of anxiety and worry arrives because I know what is happening. I try to will what is to happen from happening. I start thinking I have to stay on the ground. I start saying: "No, not here, this cannot happen here. These people cannot find out. NOT HERE!!!" But, invariably, it happens. I begin to float up off of the ground. I am literally hovering above the ground trying to pretend it isn't happening. And always, people have the same response. They say: "What are you...? Oh my God, I had no idea you were one of them!" I usually start trying to explain, but I can never find the words. I am screaming in my head: "Stop it!! Get down. Just touch the floor!!"

Various friends of mine have offered interpretations of this dream over the many years. I still have no idea what it really means. But that sensation of needing to hide what I am is strong. It is so strong. In the dream, I want, more than anything, to fit in. I want to be normal. Why I am able to levitate I have never found out. In the dreams, it is something I am ashamed of, something I never want people to find out. Does anyone have a dream similar to this?


***************************


Somehow, I must have heard or read that Auden's birthday is coming up. I mean, it is weird that he has been in my head recently.


***************************


I find it interesting where the series ROME chooses to stick with History and where it chooses to depart from it. Very fascinating, indeed.


***************************


Clue: Sharp


***************************

The Coins

Andrew Feld and Pimone Triplett are hanging out over the Poetry Foundation website this week. Stop by when you have a chance.


**************************


And speaking of the POETRY Foundation, Dana Goodyear has more than a little to say about in her article from a recent New Yorker.


**************************


Dreamt last night that I was drowning in coins. The coins were slipping down my throat. There was orange embered light flickering on the ceiling of a blue living room. The coins were scratching my eyes. The coins were everywhere but a wind of some kind kept moving them through the air so one could see between them what else was happening. It was like a tornado of coins inside a house.


**************************


Sometimes, some of you take me too seriously. Other times, you don't take me seriously enough! Oh well. Such is life.


**************************


I have Chet Baker's voice in my head. There was a time I wanted to write a poetry as beautiful and sad and hurt as his voice crooning his songs.


**************************


Clue: Sacrosanct


**************************

Slouching Towards the Stacks

Good old Yeats is still present. Sadly, he is used to talk about the Iraq War. Well, more specifically, his poem "The Second Coming" is used to talk about the War.


*************************


Look who has made the news!


*************************


I made a terrible discovery last night. When I did a reading at Boston College years ago, I stole from the English Dept. Library the only copy of my senior project, a collection of poems titled, of all thing, "Window Prayers." Well, I had forgotten one thing. I had given a copy of it to Francis Sweeney S.J., the man who founded and ran the Humanities Series at BC for 40+ years. Apparently, when he passed away, he donated hundreds of literary things to the Archives in Burns Library at BC. One of the things he donated was this collection of mine. I could just about die. The irony of this is beyond my comprehension. Despite thinking I had eliminated this hideous thing, it came back to BC and is now in a place where I cannot steal it! I discovered this last night while looking to see if any libraries owned the broadside I had published a few years ago. I am still in a slight state of shock. These are poems I wouldn't want anyone ever seeing... Though, it is quite likely no one will ever see them in those archives of the Rare Book Library. At least this is what I keep telling myself.


*************************


I really don't like the idea of "The Second Coming " being tied to the Iraq War. It must be a day of fixations and obsessions.


*************************


Jordan Davis doesn't realize it, but he started a trend.


*************************


No day off this week, but we head off to Tahoe for the long weekend.


*************************


Clue: Retribution


*************************

Victor #13

Jacob has made his decision. And the winner of the Caption Contest is Anne Haines!



"Dude, when we helped you shop for a ten gallon hat, we really did not have this in mind."


*************************


The runner up this time is none other than Stuart Greenhouse with:

"Dude, take it easy! It's the name of a drink. IT'S THE NAME OF A DRINK!"



*************************


As always, thanks to all those who played along.


*************************


Anne should contact me via email to claim her prize. Yup, this time around there was indeed a prize! She gets bragging rights and a prize.


*************************


Notably absent among the entrants were Shanna Compton, John Gallaher, and Mr. Aaron (I Won the Whole Shebang last year) Smith.


*************************

Sunlight, Audenesque

In the NYTBR today, a couple of letters addressing the recent review of Hart Crane in that publication. You have to be registered at the Times to read them online. But registration is free, I think.


**************************


There must be a collective unconscious. Here is an article on W.H. Auden. How weird that some of us were just talking about Auden.


**************************


I am to attend a literary luncheon today. The more I hear about it, the more it sounds like a Salon. This, of course, makes me not want to go.


**************************


But the sun is out! The sun is finally out again.


**************************


Jacob should have a decision on the Caption Contest by late today. If you haven't entered, you should.


**************************


Clue: Genius


**************************

Public Service Announcement

A few years ago, Jacob ran the Vancouver marathon to raise money for AIDS research and organizations helping people live with AIDS. It was incredible watching him train for this marathon (so many tubes of Goo, yuck!). And it was even more incredible to see him do the marathon. He raised quite a bit of money, more than he originally thought he could.

Well, right now, a friend of Aaron Smith, Brandon, is training to run a marathon to raise money for research in Lymphoma/Leukemia. This is very important work. I treat patients with these diseases, and I pray for a day when there will be better treatments, maybe even ways of preventing them.

For a long time, I believed Brandon was Aaron's imaginary friend, an alter ego of Aaron, so to speak. Well, now I know this is not the case. Why? Because I know Aaron would not be running a marathon! He has said so himself! So, please consider dropping by and donating some money. Any amount is a good amount. Right now, Brandon hasn't even reached the halfway mark for his fundraising. Please go help him out. He is training hard. The marathon will not be easy. We think nothing about money for a movie or a night out. Even $10 helps. So, swing by and help Brandon help others.


**This message brought to you by C. Dale, Jacob, and all of us here at The Muse**

The Wayward Branch

It is funny the people you end up meeting when you spend time in cyberspace.


*************************


If you haven't entered the latest Caption Contest, you should think about entering. Jacob will likely select a winner today or tomorrow.


*************************


Is John Ashbery responsible for Stevens holding the position he does?


*************************


Rainy again this morning. It is definitely Winter here now. Spring better come on time though. I don't care that Winter came late. spring still needs to come on time.


*************************


I have been nominated again for the Pushcart. This time, I can't be bothered filling out the form and sending in the work. What is the point? I have been nominated every year for the past 9 years. I have never been selected. And I have friends who have similar stories. So, yeah, I can't be bothered this time. Too busy and too much stuff to do. And let's face it, I should be editing the poetry in Pushcart. Hahahahahaha. Can you imagine? NER would make quite a showing.


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Once again, thanks to this blog, I offer you the evolution of one of my poems. I find this both cool and also really disturbing. Tracking my own mind in cyberspace. This rant was the seed for this poem. From there, I eventually made notes and then the poem started here, in notebook form. Eventually, things came together, and I drafted the poem. You can note that I posted the notebook on the blog after having drafting the poem. Things here don't always happen in sequence. Anyway, here is the poem. As always with my own poems, it will vanish shortly.



AGAINST DIVINATION


(Vanished)


--C. Dale Young
(appeared originally in TriQuarterly)



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Congratulations to a friend of mine on his double good fortune this week! When it rains, it pours.


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Clue: The Straw Man Sings Empty Lyrics


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Insufficient Praise

Well, I knew this would happen eventually. Tonight, when I tried to log in, Blogger forced me to switch to its new version. And I don't care what they say, everything did NOT transfer over exactly in place. Oh well, what can you do? It is funny: I embrace technology at work, embrace change, but when it comes to other things, I am not that fond of change.


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RECIPROCITY

(VANISHED)


--C. Dale Young
(appeared originally in Kenyon Review)


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And I don't like labels and tags!


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And I guess I am just cranky!!!!!


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Clue: Small of my back


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Caption Contest #13

Yup, you guessed it. It is THAT time again. For those of you who are new to the Muse, the caption contest involves visitors to this place submitting captions for a photo. Jacob and I have already decided if the winner gets a prize and/or bragging rights. Jacob returns, once again, as our "celebrity judge." He selects what he thinks is the best caption. At the end of the year, all the winners for the year compete in the Year-End Caption Blowout Contest. So, what do you have to lose? Integrity is not a good enough answer!

So, here we go!

Breughel and the Penguins

Another "Only in San Francisco" moment, brought to you via the Bay Area Reporter.


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I have no idea why, but I seem to be carrying this poem around with me in my head today. I found a copy of the painting by Breughel referenced in the poem. Odd painting. Odd poem.

I know there are many who detest poems written about Art, but this is one of those poems that is just so freakin' good, even an ekphrastic hater should like it even somewhat. The painting is odd and the poem is odd, but they are both also amazing.





MUSEE DES BEAUX ARTS


About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.


--W.H. Auden


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Rain makes drivers into idiots.


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Clue: "Moving through the doorway of a Nation..."


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Quickie

I am not going to say too much this morning because a certain person is interviewing/auditioning this morning, and I must send all my good luck mojo his way. Good luck, Jacob. I know you will knock their socks off. Kick some ass. Take some names. I love you more than ice cream!

Irony and Deposition

Piano music echoing through the house. Currently, it is the piece for Piano Jacob wrote not too long ago; it will be one of the things he plays at his interview/audition. It is based on my tiny poem, "Sunday Afternoon." I am more deeply flattered than I could express here. And the music is perfectly matched to the poem: dark, moody, with a dose of nostalgia in there for good measure. To be honest, the music is significantly better than the poem. And this is as it should be, I think.


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I had a wonderful conversation tonight with a friend about the poems we have been seeing in magazines here and there by Joel Brouwer. It made us wonder if a new book of his was on the horizon. The whole conversation made me want to go back and read his last book again. In fact, I am going to do just that. The poems of his I have seen recently have almost an electrical sensation to them. They bristle and crackle. You almost feel if the room were dark enough you would see sparks above the page in the air before your face. Does anyone know? Does he have another book in the works?


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I got nothing done today I was supposed to get done. Dreary weather. Dreary day. Sat in the kitchen and wrote paragraphs about electrons and gold foil, the ways in which beams fan out, the ways in which the penumbra of the beam demonstrates dissipation of energy. I did this in a mildly obsessive way: I kept rewriting the paragraph over and over trying to precisely describe the way in which beams of radiation are created. I wanted the filament to glow so hot the electrons in the page would move. I wanted to describe the electrons leaving the filaments, the magnetic field, the electrons striking the gold foil, and the X-rays produced, wanted to describe the ways those X-rays excited the atoms in its path to cause deposition of energy. I sat in my kitchen and wrote this one paragraph over and over for well over two hours. It gave me a kind of pleasure. Every single day I rely on X-rays, I prescribe them, I plan them, I design the fields with the help of treatment planners, dosimetrists, physicists. Every single day I go to work. But today, I wanted that mechanism of production to fit into a paragraph, a well-honed precise thing. I wanted it to be part of me. This from the man who despised Physics in college, who said it was pointless studying Physics to get into med school because no doctor used physics. The supreme irony of that is not lost. It took the applications of physics in the care of patients for me to appreciate it. Sometimes, I am just plain weird.


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Clue: Ah-say oh


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Palatable but Uninspired, the Wave of the Future

Ms. Loudon has reopened the discussion of the narrative arc in poetry collections. She isn't fond of the need poets have to possess such a thing in their mss. I agree with her completely. Sometimes arcs happen, but they shouldn't be a requirement. I actually touched on this in that journal I did for the Poetry Foundation. These themed mss. exist because publishers think them more palatable, easier to sell. Well, eff that. Publishers need to have balls to stand up for their taste, for style. If not, then why bother. No one is ever going to be rich from Poetry. Brent Goodman has continued the conversation via his comment boxes. And the robot is musing on it. Others are whispering. Face it, too many people today are padding their mss. with filler just to have a nifty little story to tell. I told you, poetry is like CRACK for me. I want good poems in a book. I don't care about narrative arcs. All I want is good poems. (Yeah yeah, I know... What are good poems? Let's start over. I'll rub your back. You sigh as loudly as you can.)



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Anne has the list of Poetry nominees for the Lambda Book Award over at her blog. It will be interesting to see who is left once they winnow down the list to the finalists in March.


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No, no, no, no, no, no, no! (practicing)


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Clue: Degenerate but beautiful


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Brief Intermission

Who's my Daddy? Who's My Daddy? Yeah, John Gallaher is my Daddy. Just kidding, but he is, after all my whining and crying, sending me the proofs to Henri Cole's new book. What can I say? Poetry for me is like CRACK! And we all know Crack is Whack, folks. I am like a little schoolgirl giggling with excitement over here. I can't wait to read it. Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming...

Combustion

Someone recently asked me if I have ever cried in a movie. Of course I have. A few times, even. I still remember the first time. I was in Gainesville, FL. I went with my then partner to see a new movie titled Philadelphia. One must understand that even then, people were dropping dead of AIDS. I had friends who died of AIDS, died slowly before my eyes. Today, people talk about HIV and being positive, but I remember what it was like to see friends waste away before me. I remember the spots of Kaposi's sarcoma on their faces. So, imagine the kick to the gut I felt at the end of Philadelphia. I cried and I cried in that theater. The lights came on and the theater was practically empty (people having run out), and the two of us sat there and cried. I had never cried in a movie before. I don't think anything in a movie ever hit so close to home for me before that point.

Is there a book of poetry that has ever done this to me? Oddly enough, yes. And oddly enough, same topic. Thom Gunn's The Man with Night Sweats moved me to tears the first time I read it. Even now, it does the same thing. Is it his best book? I may never really know the answer to that. It stirs such an emotional cauldron in me. Even now, when I read it, I tear up. Have you read this book? If you haven't, you should. I don't think you will regret reading it. It is an incredible book, an incredible glimpse of life in the time of the Plague.


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I have a very cruel side to me. You don't want to see me when I am angry. I spend a great deal of my life ensuring I don't get angry. My anger is explosive, raw, consuming. It combusts and then it practically overshadows every sane and practical aspect of me. It has been at least 6 years since my anger last erupted.


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I swear there is more caffeine in a coke than there is in a regular cup of coffee.


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Clue: Damascus!


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Crush Artifact

Jacob and I have been watching the first episodes of LOST's 3rd Season on, of all things, ABC.com. It hasn't been that bad. 4 down, and 2 to go before the remainder of the Season starts up later this week. I have to say, watching TV on the laptop isn't as bad as I expected. It isn't fantastic, but not that bad. No wonder ATT stock keeps going up.


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I am still nursing the wounds inflicted on me by John Gallaher. I am a mess.


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So many good books coming out this year. So many. It may be all in my head, but I swear it seems like a ton of people I know have books coming out.


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Chopin, Bach, Beethoven, and Bertrand: I have been hearing their piano music now for the past week and a half. I particularly like the last composer. You could say I have a thing for him.


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To the mystery emailer: Yes, I do know Natasha Trethewey. She is a friend of mine. No, I have never had a fling with her (her husband Brett would not look kindly on that seeing he is also a friend of mine). No, we did not just become friends but have been friends since the mid 1990's, long before either of us had published a book. No, we were never in grad school together. And no, she was never my teacher. Anything else you want to know? Jeez. And do I publish her? Yes, I do. But only if I think the poems are good enough to be published at NER. If they aren't good, I will reject them. Friend or not, that is what I do.

Now, what exactly was the point of your email?


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Clue: Perspicacity and the Prince


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Clue: YOU killed Kenney!


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Scattered

Yay! The folks at __________ University like the Phi Beta Kappa poem I submitted. (sigh of relief)


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I want another weekend like this past weekend. But I want it now.


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I so wish this were one of those made up billboards. But it isn't. It is actually a billboard in Seattle. Oh, this just begs for sick jokes, doesn't it? It is both funny and revolting at the same time! (via slog)




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I actually have a schedule for AWP; Jacob will be my social secretary. He is in charge of the calendar. I am already booked up for dinners. Gag!


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To those who keep asking: No, I am NOT staying at the Hilton. I will be there a lot at the Bar, but no, I am not staying at the Hilton.


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Clue: Largest alpine lake in North America


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The New C. Dale

Revisions are finished. My Phi Beta Kappa poem is done. I have even already emailed it off. The best thing about getting this commission was the kick in the pants it gave me to finish this poem. I feel good about it. I actually feel good about it.


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I want to know why John Gallaher has a copy of Henri Cole's yet to be released book (in galleys) and I don't. Am I no longer on the FSG galleys list? I suspect I have fallen from FSG grace. I don't so much care about that, but I have an unnatural yearning to read Cole's new book. I am, in some small way, an Henri Cole groupie. Knowing that Gallaher has this book in proofs is killing me. And this little whine and cheese session is also killing me.


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Someone sent me 84 poems with a request for comments on each of them. This person is not a student of mine from Warren Wilson. In fact, I do not know this person, nor have I ever (to my knowledge) met this person. I have to wonder if this is a strange joke perpetrated by one of my friends to get a rise out of me. Well, this is the new C. Dale. I will not offer you a rise. I will simply furrow my brow and move on.


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Super Bowl? Of course I am not watching Super Bowl. Good God.


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ROME? Yes, I will most definitely be watching ROME.








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Clue: Motorcoach


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Bookworms

I cannot explain why, but yesterday felt like a vacation. I sat around in my t-shirt and pajama bottoms all day. I drank an extra cup of coffee. I did nothing. It was kind of glorious. I guess it was reward for finishing the bulk of my tax return the night before. But who knows? Sometimes, you just have to take a break. Today, I have NER work to finish up. Other errands as well. But yesterday was the best.


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I am always fascinated by what everyone has recently read. It always blows my mind the books mentioned I have never encountered. I have gone in search of quite a number of books after reading the responses to posts like the one I did on Friday. Very cool, y'all.


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It is that time of year when new poetry book after new poetry book start popping up. I am definitely looking forward to this, and to thisand I am chomping at the bit for this.


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I just realized that AWP is at the end of this month. It is already February.


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Clue: Lagniappe


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Of Two Minds, Like Janus

There is nothing like coming in to work and being able to tell someone they are cured. Nothing like it in the world. Nothing. A patient I treated for a glandular tumor two years ago has completely normal hormone levels now. He had been through medical and surgical treatments and neither could control his hormone levels. Now, 2 years after focused radiation treatments, his levels are stone cold normal. He was so happy I cannot even describe it. He literally hugged me and did a little jump. After a somewhat depressing week, this was a bonus I could never have dreamed of, and it was welcome. I am so freaking happy right now.


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Strolled (or was dragged, depending on how you look at it) down memory lane last night. It is amazing how selective memory is. I was reminded of so many things that had been somewhat erased. I mean I had not forgotten my days of alternative music and combat boots, but I had forgotten so many other things.


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Busy weekend ahead of me. Finalizing an issue of NER. Payroll. Literary stuff I have been putting off. Trying to finish up this poem I think might be my Phi Beta Kappa poem. And yes, trying to READ for pleasure's sake.


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I have no idea what to do with this. Part of me agrees wholeheartedly, and the other part vehemently disagrees. I mean, what the hell!


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What is the last poetry book you read? Seriously, I want to know. Enquiring minds want to know.


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Clue: Megavoltage


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From the Bag of Tricks

Good for Mexico! I swear to God, the U.S. will be the last place, or nearly last. When Spain, and now Mexico, have these rights, and the U.S. doesn't, you have to wonder. Spain in particular is VERY Catholic, but they still did the right thing.


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After work today, I am meeting up with two friends of mine from college. I literally haven't seen these people since I graduated college. With the exception of some of my roommates from college, I don't really run into or talk to many people with which I went to college. It might be fun. It might be totally weird. I had an experience a year or so ago when a classmate and really good friend at the time contacted me. Within a matter of days, I realized I had practically nothing in common with this person anymore. In fact, I had the distinct feeling the person expected me to be the way I was back then, which isn't possible. I am not growing my hair long and dying it blue now for anyone!


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For all the Harry Potter fans out there, let the geeking out begin. I have yet to read one of these books, but I know a certain person in my home who has probably already pre-ordered this.


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And speaking of Harry Potter, have you seen this? It is one of several posters for a staging of Equus in England. And it is apparently causing all kinds of commotion. People kill me. Hello? It is called acting. This guy is not really Harry Potter! He is trying to make a go of it as an actor. Jeez.










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Aren't you glad I didn't spring that poster on you all for the caption contest?



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Clue: Egyptian Book of the Dead



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