Fishouse is Live

Hey folks, Fishouse is live. Check it out. I've got a few poems posted as do fellow bloggers Aimee, Barb, and Patrick.

For those of you unfamiliar with a couple of folks, might I direct your attention to the work of Brian Turner and Steve Scafidi?

Brian's a sweet guy. I met him at AWP in Vancouver this year. His favorite drink is a White Russian. Check out his poem, "Here, Bullet."

And Steve's a cabinet maker living in West Virginia. He's also a sweetheart. If you listen closely to the audio recording, you can hear chickens in the background. I recommend "To Whoever Set My Truck on Fire."

Do you listen to music when you write?

I spoke with the poet/writer Eric Gansworth about this at length when he came to Utica for a reading in 2002. Anyway, Eric's one of the most prolific artists I know. He also does almost all his composition while music is blaring in the background.

I have to say that I also write when there's music going. The music has to be all instrumental, though. There can't be any vocals, otherwise I'm apt to get Earworms. So the music I listen to ranges anywhere from Classical (rarely), to Classical Jazz (most often), to odd-ball instrumental groups like The Dirty Three and The Rachel's.

Still, a lot of writers I know need complete silence. What type of writer are you? Do you need the background noise to compose? Do you utilize the sounds in your environment? Do you need absolute silence when you write?

Reading Conundrum

Dear Ruth is having a reading dilemma. Go help her here.

Secrets part II.

Shhhhhhh. . .

Last day of classes

Today's the last day of classes. I'll be lugging around a ton of portfolios by the end of the day. Poor me!

I had promised my Advanced Poetry class a pizza party, but I have no money. I mean, really. . . I have no money. So I'm not sure what to do. I think I can scrounge together a few leftover pieces of candy and cookies.

One of my former professors came in on the last day with a bottle of port. I suppose I could do that, but . . . I don't really like port, and I don't want to part with any of the liquor we have in the house.

Got any suggestions? Should I just bag it and say I can't buy you guys pizza because I'm poor, or should I try to put something together with whatever's in the house . . . OR, should I bite the bullet and buy a damn pizza?

*sigh*

Welcome Ruth!

Please welcome my dear sister/friend, Ruth Ellen Kocher to the blog world!

Not only is she a fantastic writer, but she's one of the sweetest people I know.

Glad you could join us, Ruth.

Guilty Pleasures?

Fellow blog poet, Paul Guest has a thread on Guilty Pleasures. It's a lot of fun. Check it out.

I say y'all on occasion . . .

Your Linguistic Profile:

65% General American English

20% Upper Midwestern

10% Dixie

5% Yankee

0% Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

Summer Movies are Coming!

I want to see this and this, and this, and this.


Of course, everyone, including myself, will want to see this.

Student phrase for today:

Off the Chain.

Purification Rituals

When I'm about to grade a stack of papers, I have a few purification rituals (read procrastination).

The first ritual is to make sure all the dishes in the sink are cleaned. This is to ensure that when I pour myself a pot of coffee, I will not be setting coffee mugs on other dishes, in dirty sinks, on scummy plates. Chances are, I'll use the mug over and over again.

The second ritual is for me to clear my desk. Clearing the desk takes place in phases. The first phase involves balancing the checkbook. I make sure all the ATM receipts, slips of paper, etc., are accounted for, properly tabulated, and shredded. I then pay the bills. Papers seem to come at the end of the month or during the middle of the month when bills start coming in. Bills are also responsible for most of the clutter on my desk.

The third part of my ritual is settling correspondence. E-mail piles up in my virtual mailbox, so I weed through the spam, old messages, listserve nonsense, and other stuff. Because of the high volume of computer viruses at my current institution, I often have to run a virus scanner which usually takes an hour or two.

Fourthly, I vacuum. The floors need to be cleaned. When I'm walking barefoot in the apartment, I don't want to step on pebbles, chiggers, stickers, bits of staples, nails, or any serrated edges of any kind. It's important to be comfortable when grading and I'm most comfortable in socks or bare feet. Vacuuming is a safety precaution.

Fifthly, I scan all the television channels to make sure nothing important is showing or will show. I start from channel 1 and go all the way up to the 400's where the cheesy music channels reside. One time I settled on a Curling tournament and sat transfixed, trying to figure out the rules. I still don't get that sport. It's basically bowling on ice, right?

Sixthly, I call mom.

Seventhly, I walk the dog. Brisk walks are neccesary for hunting dogs like Jake. If Jake does not get his walk, he whines like a two-year-old. If I want an optimum paper-grading environment, noise like dog-whine must be eliminated, so I take Jake on a two-hour walk through the Switchbacks.

Eighthly, I delete all the phone messages on my school phone.

Ninethly, I recycle all the magazines I've read. For some reason I keep getting Sports Illustrated and Entertainment Weekly. I think I got roped into subscribing to them when purchasing something for my digital camera. I, according to Papatya Bucak, am a danger-prone consumer.

Tenthly, I call dad. He and mom use different phones.

Finally, I settle down to grade papers. I'm still wondering why it takes me so darned long to finish. . .

The NY Times on Poetry Contests, etc.

There's an article on the NY Times today, in the Books section. Here's the link.

You may have to register, but I don't think there's a cost.

The Students are Restless . . .

These days, teaching in the classroom has been extremely tough. Winters in Utica are harsh. They last from October all the way to mid-April. In our case this year, the Winter subsided in mid-April. We've had a glorious two weeks of sun and warmth. That said, the students have mentally checked out of the classroom. They're coming to class in their short-shorts and tube tops. They've stopped bringing their books if they show up at all.

They're now giggling in corners, passing notes, reverting into junior high kids.

All I can say is, the end is neigh.

Sarah and Jon

They've got pages up at Web Del Sol. Check 'em out here!

Thanks to Bino for his fine editorial eye and supreme linkages.

Kundiman Gala 2005

Total Eclipse of the Heart: An 80's Prom Gala

Travel back to the past to your senior prom—it’s 1985 again!
Put on that Molly Ringwald pink, don that rhinestone glove and Get into the Groove.
Bring your main squeeze or your best friends. Or, better yet, come stag—awesome!

This multimedia Prom Gala will feature:

•Open Wine Bar, 80’s Cake Reception
•Dancing to Your Favorite 80’s and Hip-hop Beats.
•Performances by Award-winning Asian American Artists
•Favors: Choose between a Class Ring or a Satin Orchid Wrist Corsage
•Karaoke Election of Prom King & Queen
•Prom Pictures!

WHEN:
Friday, April 29, 2005
10 pm – 2 am
Open Wine Bar from 10 pm – Midnight, Cash Bar Afterwards

WHERE:
The Poetry Project
St. Mark’s Church
131 East 10th Street (2nd Avenue)
New York, NY 10003

HOW:
General Admission
Limited Advance Tickets are available for $35. Click on below button to purchase.


At the Door, Tickets will be $50

Poetry Project Members may pay $30 at the Door
Email info@kundiman.org to reserve your space. Must show proof of Project Membership at the Door


Why go to The Total Eclipse of the Heart Prom?
•All proceeds from the Prom will benefit Kundiman’s 2nd Annual Asian American Poets’ Mentorship Retreat at The University of Virginia.
•You want another chance to meet “Ducky”
•You were in the closet and went to prom with someone of the opposite sex (who had a crush on you).
•You can’t wait to “get physical” to Purple Rain and Take on Me.
•It’s Totally Rad!

This is activism for the fabulous and mischievous. For one night only, Kundiman, The Poetry Project at St. Mark’s Church and today’s brightest Asian American talents offer you the chance to experience prom as it should be.

Def Poetry Jam poet, Regie Cabico will host.


Performer Bios
Named one of A. Magazine’s hottest up-and-coming Asian American stand-up comics, Regie Cabico is also a spoken word artist and poet. He won MTV’s Free Your Mind competition and appears on HBO’s Russell Simmons Presents Def Poetry.

Ishle Yi Park is a Korean American woman who has been published in The Best American Poetry of 2003. She has been twice featured on HBO’s Def Poetry Jam, and performed her poetry on the NAACP Image Awards. She has a CD entitled “Work is Love,” and an upcoming book called “The Temperature of this Water,” which will be released this year. Ishle currently lives in New York.

Patrick Rosal is the author of Uprock Headspin Scramble And Dive. He has been a featured poet on BBC radio’s World Today.

Tina Chang is the author of Half-Lit Houses. Her poems have been included in several anthologies including Asian American Poetry: The Next Generation.

Lisa Ascalon, a Poet-in-Residence for Poets and Writers, has performed spoken word at Nuyorican Poets Café and Bronx Academy for Arts and Dance.

Meredith and Me

Meredith and Me
Originally uploaded by odelapaz.

Yours truly and Meredith. We're dolled up for the gala.

Pat "Ladies Love" Rosal

Pat "Ladies Love" Rosal
Originally uploaded by odelapaz.

The rascal himself. Handsome, yeah? And who are the two lovelies next to him?

Joseph and Meena

Joseph and Meena
Originally uploaded by odelapaz.

Joseph Legaspi, Program Coordinator for Kundiman, with Meena Alexander, one of the featured readers from the 2004 Gala.

Pictures from the Kundiman Gala 2004

Executive Director??? You mean mega babe!
Originally uploaded by odelapaz.

The Kundiman Gala is coming up.


Check out Kundiman's Website for details!

Secrets

I have one.

Book Quiz

You're The Guns of August!

by Barbara Tuchman

Though you're interested in war, what you really want to know is what
causes war. You're out to expose imperialism, militarism, and nationalism for what they
really are. Nevertheless, you're always living in the past and have a hard time dealing
with what's going on today. You're also far more focused on Europe than anywhere else in
the world. A fitting motto for you might be "Guns do kill, but so can
diplomats."


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Pulled this from Charles

Plea

This is taken from a message board. It's a great organization and they need the help, so if you can offer aid in any way, be it monetary or publicity, please do so.




Dear Flipsters—

I’m writing to you on behalf of Kundiman, a 501c3 non-profit literary company dedicated to the discovery and cultivation of emerging Asian-American poets. One of our main programs is a Summer Workshop Retreat where nationally renowned Asian American poets conduct workshops and provide one-on-one mentorship sessions with participants. These year’s faculty include: Lawson Inada and our own Aimee Nezhukumatathil & Patrick Rosal. More information on the 2005 Retreat can be found here: Click here

I’m writing because 6 of our talented participants cannot afford the $300 for room & board for this Retreat. (Kundiman does not charge for workshops and programming) As Kundiman is such a new non-profit, we are not able to provide the type of financial aid we would like to be capable of.

If you are interested in sponsoring a scholarship for one of our 6 poets, please let me know at sarahg@kundiman.org $300 is all that it takes. Kundiman will name the scholarship according to your wishes. Your scholarship will be published on the Kundiman website. And, after the Retreat, you will receive a poem and letter from your sponsored poet. As most of you who are writers know, most poets receive little financial remuneration for their efforts. These emerging writers are coming to this craft for love of the word and the power of the word. Please help support this next generation of dedicated and enterprising Asian American writers—who are so worthy of your attention and support.


Best,

Sarah

Please welcome . . .

Lara Stapleton to blogland!


Yay yay yay!

Kundi-prom

Following Patrick's lead, check this out:

Kundiman Gala 2005

Filipino food quiz

Apparently I'm a sticky-sweet rice cake.

Take this quiz: Clicky

Moving soon.

Don't know if y'all know this, but I'm going to be headed out West, soon. Figured I'd make it an official announcement. Yes, it's true. I'm moving to Washington (state). So any of you West-Coasties want to hang out, give me a shout!

Moving sucks, in general. I hate moving. I think, in my adult life, I've moved a total of eight times. All of them were painful moves. I hate looking for a new place to live. I hate packing. I hate gathering up enough newspapers and magazines to use for packaging materials. I hate unpacking. I hate connecting up utilities. I hate driving with all my stuff and worrying about what condition they'll be in once I reach my destination.

When I moved from Arizona to Pennsylvania, I rented a Ryder truck. I towed my own truck on the back of this thing. On top of that, my dad and Rosie, the wonder pug (RIP) rode in the front with me. The truck had no cassette deck and a broken radio.

Anyway, I think I'm getting enough money to hire movers. Praise movers. Praise them.

Dear Random

The filing cabinet is overrun with magnitized momentos. Cuban postcard, Cuban postcard, Moroccan lamp.

I've tried to be magnanimous with my books, but I like possession. The greatest gift a person could give me would be a label-maker.

Here is my thesaurus. Here is my chair. This is my telephone with its bright blue buttons.

The window to my office shows my dowdiness. My jeans are from yesteryear. So is my mug.

I have an earache which makes me hum.

Students knock at improper moments--food in mouth, teacup.

Friends say coffee is my oeuvre. I make a mean vat of Supremo.

Pulitzer Winners

This is from The Pulitzer Prizes website:

Pulitzers for Literary Arts:


FICTION

Gilead by Marilynne Robinson (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)


DRAMA

Doubt, a parable by John Patrick Shanley


HISTORY

Washington's Crossing by David Hackett Fischer (Oxford University Press)


BIOGRAPHY

de Kooning: An American Master by Mark Stevens and Annalyn Swan (Alfred A. Knopf)


POETRY

Delights & Shadows by Ted Kooser (Copper Canyon Press)


GENERAL NON-FICTION

Ghost Wars by Steve Coll (The Penguin Press)


MUSIC

Second Concerto for Orchestra by Steven Stucky (Theodore Presser Company)

Post AWP Notes

1. Lost luggage on return trip. Currently up waiting for the delivery person to ring my doorbell.

2. Still sick. Was sick Wednesday, got worse Thursday, got better Friday, got worse Saturday, much better today. Still sick, though.

3. Blogroll: Paul Guest, Aimee Nezhukumatathil (spell her full name program people), C. Dale Young, C.R. Jensen, Jennifer Thornton, Nick Carbo, Eileen Tabios, David Hernandez, Janet Holmes, Victoria Chang.

4. Rain.

5. Crepes are good for dinner.

6. More people reading from papers than I ever remember at AWP. I hope it's not a new trend.

7. Book fair drive-bys done: 22

8. Books purchased: 15

9. Journals obtained: 1 (It was free, and don't give me grief. I subscribe to a bunch)

10. Virgil Suarez had another of his famous random parties. I'm not sure if the cops came this time.

11. Alcoholic beverages consumed: 3 beers (HA HA HA C.DALE! Missed me!)

12. Cool people to chat with: lost count by Thursday.

13. Tired. Very tired.

Taxes, taxes, taxes . . .

I got my refund the other day. Big smile!

The sad thing about this refund . . . it's not really my money. It's going straight to debt-payment. Big frown.

I've learned a number of things from my tax accountant, though. I've learned that I'm not declaring enough of my purchases and I clearly need to be more meticulous in my record-keeping. In one instance, I had forgotten that I had bought bookshelves in the Fall. Lucky for me, the accountant asked me if I bought books and whether I had purchased shelves to house those books.

Hell of an accountant, I must say.

Easter weekend

Meredith received a basket filled with Easter chocolates from her mother the other day. The basket was lined with green plastic faux-grass that sparkled when you tilted it under our dining room lights. The basket's smartly situated on the table that's between the entrance to the hallway and the entrance to the living room. We have to pass by and dip our hands into the shiny faux-grass for the foil-wrapped chocolate eggs.

My parents never gave me Easter baskets. Instead, Easter was about church and going to three-hour-long masses. It was definitely not one of my favorite holidays. Mass was presided over by a humorless man who was Scottish. His booming criticisms of modernity shook the panes of stain glass. I hated going to mass. I hated it even more on Easter Sunday because of the length of the mass and the knowledge that after mass I would participate in the town's annual "Easter Eggstravaganza."

The one semblance of a "traditional" Easter in my household would arrive wheen my parents allowed me to participate in the annual "Easter Egg Hunt." Other kids got baskets and pet bunnies, and all that, but my parents were pragmatists. "What do Easter baskets have to do with god?" they asked. I never answered back because I could never think of a viable reason. And anyway, Easter baskets and Easter candies were never a part of their culture. A few blocks down, Ontario High School football field would be transformed into a mass of agitated five to ten-year-old bodies. Sprawled out before us were several thousand plastic eggs. This was no hunt . . . this was gladitorial combat. In October, I had witnessed one young football player's arm break and hang at his side after getting tackled. Teeth were knocked out on this field. Shoulders were dislocated. Now we were all young boys and girls on this same field, prepared to show the other boys and girls no mercy. High up above the lawn, parents would sit and gossip. Our payoff would be a sugar-induced high that would last for five hours. The payoff for the parents? A free viewing of the carnage.

The officials for the event lined us up at the edge of the track. The plastic eggs looked like they were melting in the sun. Once the starter gun fired, we were off, scooping the pastel-colored plastics from out of the grass and into our faux-wicker baskets. They were hot to the touch, but we could all tell that something was inside of each of them. Each of us had our individualized dream of wealth and power. Perhaps they weren't filled with chocolates. . . perhaps they were filled with cash?One girl had fallen and scrapped her knee in the grass. She was still in her church-going Easter clothes and her once-white dress was now a series of grassy smears and soil. The contents of her basket spilled all over the grass as swarms of children dove for the eggs tumbling in every direction. They looked like little piranhas we had seen on film during a biology class, tearing into a wild boar who tried to cross the Amazon. Bits of bone and the boar's snout would bob to the surface, then sink into the dark waters.

I was never one of the kids who grabbed the most eggs. Additionally, I was never the kid who was too slow, leaving the field empty-handed. I always had just enough eggs to take home. Invariably, the chocolate inside of the eggs would be soft, melting right out of their foil.

Easter weekend's coming and I'm helping myself to Meredith's basket. There's a pile of unpeeled chocolate egg wrappings making their tinny sounds as I set them down. I'll probably have to refill her basket at some point . . . Maybe I'll get her another basket.

Judging books by their covers

I do this, and I know Eduardo had a post about this awhile back.

Anyway, since AWP is just around the bend, I've been thinking about the book selling industry and how poetry is marketed. I had an interesting discussion with Karl Kageff, over at Southern Illinois University Press, and he said poetry books are very expensive to make with little return in profit. He spoke with me about the artwork and the imagery on the covers . . . he also mentioned the paper and the very unique editing needs that a collection of poetry has, as opposed to an academic book (what SIUP is used to publishing).

He's right, of course. We as poets are the top consumers of poetry books and there aren't that many of us (although it might seem like it come book-contest season). We also produce gorgeous books compared to these: Clicky!

AWP is dangerous for the pocketbook.

Every year that I have attended AWP (since 1997) I have left the conference with an armful of books and journals. It's deadly. It's dangerous. I have to admit that I go to very few of the readings and panels. Rather, I hang out with friends and dine at the various restaurants. I cruise the book fair at least twenty times, and I hang out at the hotel bar (I don't drink much, but it seems y'all do). This year I have been asked to be a bit more . . . careful with the finances. So . . . if I'm doing any one-stop shopping, where should I go? Any of you setting up tables at the book fair? Got any discounts? ;-)

Spring!!!

Spring




Nothing is so beautiful as spring--

When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;

Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush

Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring

The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;

The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush

The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush

With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.



What is all this juice and all this joy?

A strain of the earth's sweet being in the beginning

In Eden garden.--Have, get, before it cloy,

Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,

Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,

Most, O maid's child, thy choice and worthy the winning.


-Gerard Manley Hopkins

Serenity Now!

Nerja
Originally uploaded by odelapaz.

Here's my happy place. I go there when I have to grade papers. It takes me much longer to get my grading done when I go there. . .

By the way, this is the beach in Nerja, Spain. It's gorgeous there. Go when you can!

PAPERS!!

PAPERS!!
Originally uploaded by odelapaz.

Yes friends. Spring Break is never really a break for college professors.

Alas, this has taken me away from blogging. Please understand.

By the way, this is a true example of some of the work I need to finish by Sunday. Spring Break ends on Monday. *sob*

Luke . . . I am your Tater . . .

When students analyze your poem . . .

So I went to Union College to give a reading last night. First of all, props to Professor Channette Romero for bringing me down. Channette, if you're reading, your students are fantastic and I had a great time.

Now, as far as the heading for this entry . . . her students used my book as one of their required books for the course. In fact, some students wrote papers on my book.

The sensation was flat-out bizarre. So then, when I sat down and started conversing with the students the following conversations started taking place:


/Hyperbole mode on


Student 1: So, can you tell me about your obsession with religious symbolism and religious terminology?

Me: Uhhhhh . . .

Student 1: Because, it seems that your defrocked Catholic thematic concerns are pervasive throughout this text. Care to comment?

Me: Uhhhhh . . .

Student 2: Yes, I noticed this too. Tell me about the halo symbols throughout? Are they really halos?

Me: Yes. I don't know. . . yes?

Student 3: And in another passage, your character, Fidelito, miraculously ascends . . . heavenward? How can that be because there's no direct mention of god in any of the pages.

Me: There's not?

Students 1-4: No.

Student 4: You also have your character return two poems later, after his ascencion. Is he a Christ symbol?

Me: Yes?

Student 4: Hmmmm. . . That's what I thought. But that's weird, because most of the religious gestures that your character makes are very . . . tribal? Is that correct? Maybe superstitious without the idea of a church organization would be a better way of putting it.

Student 2: Yes, because your character worships things like the wind and the rain, you know?

Me: Ok.

/Hyperbole mode off


Ok, in all seriousness, it was flattering and alarming to have had my work read so closely. I tell you, I discovered a lot about my poetic obsessions sitting in that class.

Evil ice

Saturday, Meredith and I opened up some windows to knock down several large icicles hanging precariously from our rain gutters. Before that, though, I attempted to knock them down from the street-level by hurling snow balls at them. That method only knocked down some of the smaller ones. Further, it severely damaged my ego. My pitching arm is definitely not as accurate or as strong as it used to be. The major culprit was an icicle that was roughly five-feet long and about as thick as a human torso. It was extremely dangerous. . . I had visions of walking under the thing and getting brained by it. I also imagined backing up my truck and having the thing pierce through my roof. What's more is that all the residue of the icicle was forming a mound of ice on the driveway, making it treacherous walking.

Anyway, I opened up the windows, grabbed a broom, and tried to whack the icicles off their ledges. It was more difficult than anticipated. I was literally winded after my efforts. Try balancing half your body outside a window while you're swinging away with a broom. It's not easy.

The forecast calls for more snow this week. *sigh*

In other news, I've got a reading at Union College this coming Thursday.

Thoughts of vacation

DSC01508
Originally uploaded by odelapaz.

*sigh* After all the snow that hit us last night, I've been having thoughts of my summer vacation. Last summer, Meredith and I went to Spain and Morrocco. We had a HELLUVA time.

Anyway, I shoveled a ton of snow (we got about five inches of snowfall last night), and while doing this work, my thoughts returned to Sevilla.

Ah! Sevilla! We drank Sangria and had Tapas while watching the other tourists. Several bands wandered by while we were soaking in the sun. Every once in awhile, the bells from La Giralda would boom.

*double sigh* One more week until Spring Break, Oliver. . . One more week.

Bad Haiku . . .

This one's from a student. For those of you in Tennessee, I completely apologize. This haiku in no way reflects my attitudes towards your state:


Tennessee is lame
don't let your best friend go there
because he will die.

On this date . . .

. . . my mother says I was born at 10AM. My father claims that it was the hardest hours of his life. This is probably the reason why baldness in our family has passed on down to me.

Pisces have more fun.

If you want to see . . .

Reb Livingston's new baby, click here.


Beautiful baby and beautiful family, eh?

It ain't a reading unless . . .

. . . someone walks out. And someone DID walk out of Patrick Rosal's reading. In fact, they walked out of the reading seven lines into the first poem.

I've been battling these "easily-offended" types who keep returning to the reading series I'm currently running. Why they return, I'll never know. Anyway, this is directed towards the man who gave me suggestions on how to run the reading series:

My co-coordinator and I have decided that despite your recommendations, we will continue to have readings by authors who are Black, Gay, Chicano, Asian, Jewish, Native American, Risk-Takers, Mayhem-Makers, and Outsiders. We will also happily invite people who write poems and stories where there is sadness, violence, grief, death, general discomfort. We regret that we cannot provide you a solid venue for your anesthetized version of entertainment, but we can recommend a decent pediatric office where you can read Highlights and spend hours on end circling the hidden items in the "Find the Hidden Objects!" page.

I have no interest in playing Muzak over the loud-speakers for an hour for the benefit of said "easily-offended" types.

Now. . . disclaimer aside, Patrick rocked. The students loved him and many of them walked away excited about poetry. You should've seen the line of folks anxious to speak with him after his reading. The audience did sing-alongs and hooted and hollered after almost every poem.

Good show, brother!

In two hours . . .

Patrick Rosal is going to throw down.

Reading tonight in Syracuse

First, sushi. Then this: go me!

Jake vs. the AKC champ

"You've put me in an uncomfortable position, sir."
Originally uploaded by odelapaz.

There's no contest, really. Our dog is clearly the more flexible of the two . . . and flexibility is key for dogs, you know. I cannot emphasize enough how important it is for a dog to be flexible.

The Reb Livingston watch and Kundiman stuff

The countdown for Reb begins. Wish her well!

Also, Eduardo's talking about my good buddy, Jon Pineda who's not only "hot" but he's a fantastic person, poet, and father. Anyway, Eduardo also mentioned the Kundiman retreat that's coming up in July.

I'll be there again with my digital camera and several chips-worth of pictures. I think Jon Pineda's going to be there . . . we're trying to talk Barbara Jane into coming. It was a blast last year. For your edifiication, here's a look back at last years retreat.

Kudos must go out to Sarah Gambito and Joseph Legaspi AGAIN, for having the courage to dream and build.

Winter weather yo-yos

The mercury's been going up and down this past week. Yesterday morning as I was walking to class, frigid gusts of air kept pushing the powdery snow all over the place. Stupidly, the school was snow-blowing while this was taking place, so more of the stuff was blowing around in front of doors, walkways, etc..

Today, however, it's a balmy 40 degrees and slightly rainy. It's a lousy day to run Jake, but I'll have to, otherwise he'll drive Meredith and I bonkers tonight with his incessant whining.

I predict we'll get more of the yo-yo weather through the weekend and all I want is a stable high of 40. Lord, give me 40 degree weather from now until April . . . please.

Christo and Jeanne-Claude's "The Gates"

Arthur Miller, 1916-2005

Loves . . . in the spirit of Saint Valentine's day.

1. Early morning coffee on a sunny day with the newspaper across my lap.

2. Finishing all my work before the weekend approaches.

3. Pressing "Print" after finishing a poem (thank you Aimee).

4. The clunk of the mailman's shoes on my front porch.

5. A bag of popcorn, no butter, at the movie theater.

6. Cooking a meal and having people go for second and third helpings.

7. Rain gutters with flowing water on the roadside.

8. The smell of new books and peeling off price tags from those new books.

9. Being able to run one more mile without being tired.

10. The last traces of snow in Upstate New York.

11. Video games.

12. Hotel towels and free chocolates.

13. Lying on a clean floor reading magazines for hours while listening to the radio.

14. Finishing the last of a batch of papers for grading.

Mardi BLAHS

Post Super Bowl musings

1. I liked the "Saturday Night Fever" Pepsi commercial.

2. The .com commercials were tiring.

3. I loved the Ameriquest commercials. They made me giggle.

4. Donovan McNabb was erratic. He was throwing high balls the whole game.

5. If Deion Branch didn't get the MVP, my second pick would've been Rodney Harrison. Definitely not Tom Brady, though Brady was very effective.

6. The Eagles wasted way too much time in the final four minutes of the game.

7. The half time show was . . . uninspiring.

8. There are far too many pre-game shows and far too many talking heads.

9. Cheetohs are my favorite salty snack. Funions are a close second and Cool Ranch Doritos are a close third. Health food? What's that?

10. The running game for either team wasn't the deciding factor of the game as most sports writers had anticipated.

11. Terrell Owens looked fine. I was tired of the commentators talking about him and circling him every time he lined up.

12. Why is there a correlation between sporting events and unhealthy eating? See 9.

13. The Quiznos Baby will not inspire me to buy a Quiznos sandwich. If I see that talking child in a Quiznos restaurant, I will run very far and very fast.

What kind of poet . . .

. . . watches the Super Bowl? I'll admit it. I love watching football, and I never miss the Super Bowl. Rest assured, I'll be watchhing this Sunday.

Does that make me a bad person? Is my appreciation of art and beauty called into question with every Flare, Slant, or Draw-Play?

I wonder if there are any contemporary poets out there who used to don the pads?

Last semester, Thom Ward came to my school to give a reading. He boldly talked about lacing up his cleats and kicking @$$ before a shocked auditorium. He still pumps iron, etc., but he mentioned how he suffers from gimpy knees because of his football days.

I also had the honor of hanging out at Austin Hummell's house while I was doing a visiting teaching gig up in Northern Michigan University. We were watching the NBA playoffs and snarfing macadamia nuts while looking over poems. I guess the two can happen simultaneously--art and physical grace.

Anyway, I'm a poet who so happens to be a sports nut. I'm going to be watching Super Bowl XXXIX for the sport, not for the commercials.

The "Up-note" reading voice

Saw this and this and this.


Me four. I must say, though, someone who DOESN'T read in the "Up-note" style is coming to read at my college. Can't wait for blogland's very own Patrick Rosal to throw down!

Where is . . .

Artichoke Heart?

Winter days

Polar Bears! BRRRRRRRR!!!!

Nerd Alert, redux

I log my submissions to journals as well as to book contests via Microsoft Excel.

In my spreadsheet, I compute the costs of submitting to book contests. So far in book contests entry fees alone, I've spent close to $300.00. That's not including things like postage and paper.

But that's not what I'm here to talk to you about today . . . I love my spreadsheet.

That is all.

I'm digging my new schedule

I love having my Tuesdays and Thursdays off. For the past four years, I haven't had a day off during the academic work week. Basically I taught Monday through Friday. This semester's different. I'm on a Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule and the two days off makes a huge difference. I feel so much more rested and productive.

This morning I graded all the student homework, paid some bills, wrote some letters, sent some poems out to journals, sent my manuscript out to contests, and I wrote. Wow!

Only thing is, I haven't showered yet. *shudder* Better get that bit checked off my TO DO list.

A dog loose in the neighborhood

I walked Jake this morning, before school, and a stray dog followed us home. It was a funny-looking dog. She had the coloring of a German Shepherd, but she had a patch of white under her chest and really floppy ears. She'd jump from snow bank to snow bank while Jake whimpered. I wanted to bring her in because it was cold.

This morning wasn't the first time I had seen her. She's a bit of a ghost in our neighborhood, prowling around at night, tipping over garbage cans and tearing up the trash bags left out for collection on Wednesday. It was the aftermath of a garbage night so that's probably why she was around the neighborhood this morning.

I let her get a whiff of Jake and vice versa. She was really skittish. She'd come up, paw Jake on the neck, and then recoil as soon as Jake would make a move or as soon as I said something.

I was running late from all the commotion, so I had to drag my reluctant dog into the house. The stray just stood outside our door, watching us go up the stairs. Maybe she'll come around this afternoon.

Cool and nerdy Christmas gifts I'm still enjoying

Ok, I have to say that I'm STILL playing with my new Christmas toys. Among my favorites are the Season 4 and Season 5 DVD's of The Simpsons. I'm sitting in my office thinking about them . . .. You won't believe all the stuff they have crammed on those DVD's.

I'm also watching a lot of the Seinfeld Season 1 and 2 DVD's.

Finally, I got this game, World of Warcraft . . . uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh *drool*

But I must also say that I'm resigned to remain faithful to my New Years resolutions. More writing, more reading, more teaching. Be good, Oliver. Be good.

School days, school days . . .

I taught two classes this morning. I must say it was very hard getting up. I've been going to bed late during the holiday vacation and now it's coming back to bite me.

My mother called me last night. When I was in Middle School, we hosted a Brazillian foreign exchange student. He's coming to visit them tomorrow. Now he's got two daughters and is a judge in Sao Paolo. It should be interesting. Of all the places to visit from Brazil . . . Ontario, Oregon?!

In other news:

It was roughly -5 degrees outside and my car was NOT happy. But it started.

Countdown

Days Remaining: 3

Syllabi Created: 3

Mental Stamina: 55%

Revisions, revisions, revisions

Went through Furious Lullaby again. Probably the sixth time through the entire manuscript, though I've revised poems here and there. I filled in some holes by writing four new poems and revising the first third of the manuscript. I need to live with the new order for a little while . . . see how I feel about it.

This time around I'm looking at consistency and I was pretty hard on myself. Personal mission: cut or reduce the "to be" verbs as well as causality words and temporality words. I use causality and temporality words a lot.

I also need to shore up my syntax. It's muddled. It's always been muddled. It sounds like my father's thought patterns which are episodic.

Anyway, I've been having fun. I actually don't mind revision as much as I used to. Boy, when I was in grad school, I struggled with the process. Now it's a game. Sort of like the puzzles in those Highlights magazines I paged through in doctor and dentist offices.

Countdown

Days of vacation remaining: 7

Syllabi created: 3

Mental Stamina: 60%

Fun with my name . . . another moment of procrastination

So I tried this and I saw that there were many many word combinations.

Can you imagine how many words Aimee Nezhukumatathil can make with her name?

Word of the day

best boy (best boi) noun

The first assistant to the gaffer (head electrician) of a film crew.

[Apparently borrowed from the sailing terminology.]

"Cast and director commentaries are one thing, but do we really need one from the post-production team, as we've seen on the extended edition of The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King? What's next? 'Reflections from the Key Grip and Best Boy?'" Mike Snider and Thomas K. Arnold; Press 'Repeat' or 'Skip'; USA Today (Washington DC); Dec 28, 2004.

This week's theme: words related to movie making.

This word brought to you by Wordsmith.org



I always wondered what this meant . . . but I was afraid to ask.

Countdown

Days of vacation remaining: 8

Syllabi created: 0

Mental Stamina: 40%

Poetry and freezing rain

It's dreadful outside. Had to crank up the snowblower after getting about four inches of snow, which is not so bad. The bad part is the thin layer of ice that's forming on top of the pavement. Weather dude says it'll be like this all day, so I'm going to bundle my feet and read poetry.

I've got some poetry goodies. Sarah Gambito's Matadora tops the list at the moment, with her lush lyricism and stupendous image-making. I'm also reading a bit of A. Van Jordan's M-A-C-N-O-L-I-A. Love love love his poem, "from," so dig that book out.

Anyway, it sounds like someone's throwing grains of rice on my windows. Very strange, the freezing rain. . .

Notebook thingies

Eduardo Corral has asked for some notebook musings and so you have some. This is from the top page of my yellow-pad:

-like sable plumes on helmets
-cards perfumed with balsam
-sometimes her yellow hair
got into the corners of his mouth

-bound in tunic and dark carmel papers.

-in the moonlight it is jade-green snow

-there are two versions of her story

-licorice-flavored tobacco

-a bat caught in a wall of linen

-rings on the inside of the coffee mug from milk look like tree rings

-dizzying trapezoid rooms

-moisture on plums form a window

-agates in the window and dry pussywillow

-linger like red berries in winter

Running around . . .

Busily, really. Two students who are applying for grad schools have asked for recommendations . . . quite suddenly. I'll be working on those today.

Unpacked three boxes filled with Christmas candy that my parents couldn't eat. Meredith and I have a ridiculous amount of food in our house. There's no way we can eat it all.

Oh, and an old lady at the airport turned to me and said, "Hello Yule Brenner."

Please give a warm welcome

To C. Dale Young, newest member of the barrio!

New Year's Resolutions

I don't know how many of you are in the habit of making New Year's resolutions at the end of the year. I like to call them GOALS. Anyway, I've got a few goals for 2005 and I'd be interested in hearing some of yours. Here are some of my goals for 2005:

1. Read a collection of poetry a week.
2. Cut the amount of time I'm on the computer.
3. Eat healthier foods.
4. Be a better teacher.
5. Become a more disciplined writer.
6. Become a better listener.
7. Be better about keeping in touch (Courtesy of Rigoberto)
8. Be more open-minded (Courtesy of Barbara Jane Reyes)

Sleepy . . .

. . . but I can't sleep. I'm in one of those weird waking states where my body is fatigued, but my brain is hyper-active. It sort of feels like I'm over-caffeinated, but I know it's not caffeine.

In truth, I'm a bit stressed, but I'll get over it after Thursday.

Travel was not so bad. I'd been following the awful incidences of air-travel this past weekend, but fortunately I didn't suffer any of those problems. I must say that in my years of travelling, I've learned not to check bags.

Anyway, currently sitting in a hotel room. The hotel provides free internet service. Yay!

By the way, I received only one of the items on my wish list: brown shoes.

Aside from brown shoes, I got underwear, undershirts, and socks. I get underwear, undershirts, and socks every year from my mother. She's trying to drop me a hint about something . . . I'm not sure what, exactly.

Papatya's here!

I added my buddy, Papatya's blog to the blog list.

Good to see you, Pops!

A day with a car

Watch out, Boise, Idaho! I'm coming at you like a mad dog!

Yes, that's right . . . I get to use my dad's pick-up truck today. How's that for regressing back to high school?

Ahhhh . . . the cars I have known.

Our family car used to be a lime-green Ford Pinto back in the 70's. After that, we got a station wagon with faux wood panels on the sides. Our longest-running love affairs with automobiles were with the Toyota Camrys.

But . . . I never drove any of those cars.

The first car I owned was a used Ford Tempo G/L. It was the most gutless thing on the road. I swear it'd idle in the most awful places . . . on highways, going up hills . . . After that I spent a lot of time in my dad's HONKING HUGE sky-blue Ford pick-up. In the wilds of Oregon (Or-Eh-Gun) we all drove pick-ups. We frequently went trout fishing in the Hells Canyon area.

Anyway, now I've got dad's pick-up for the day. I think I'm going to go fetch my some ciggs, bust out a brew, turn the dial to some honky-tonk, and sit on the pick-up bed in a folding chair checking out the girls coming out of the bowling alley with their ultra high bangs. So sexy.

Kidding . . . though there are people that actually do that in Ontario, OR.

Phear.

X-mas Licks

Some polar bears at the San Diego zoo got an early Christmas present. Yum!

My break so far . . .

I've been feasting on home-cooked Filipino food since the 14th. Yum yum. I've basically had Adobo and Sinigang for a straight week and I'm not tired of it yet.

I also think I've gained the obligatory holiday weight. I haven't been exercising as I normally do, but you know what . . . it's the holidays.

Let's see . . . I still can't sleep in. Try as I might, I wake up right between 7 and 8 AM, no matter what time I go to sleep at night. When I wake up, the folks are already out of the house, so I leisurely drink my coffee, watch highlights of Sportscenter, and then proceed to read a bit.

I'm in the midst of finishing up Richard Hugo's Triggering Town. Very yummy read. He sounds like he was a generous teacher.

Aside from reading, I've been watching and re-watching my Return of the King Extended Version DVD's. I've watched all the appendices (roughly 6 hours of documentary) and I'm going through the movie for a second time, this time with the Actors' commentary.

If you thought Barbara Jane was a geek . . . *cough*

To qwell boredom

I have decided to create a list of things I want for Christmas but may never get.

1. G5 Tower Computer (HA! Unlikely!)
2. 40GB iPod (Must save save save. Meantime, will use damaged iPod)
3. "With the Lights Out" Nirvana Boxed Set
4. Poetry Books (Lots and lots and lots)
5. An Xbox or a Playstation2 (Verboten. I will become a crusty, baggy-eyed couch potato if I get one of these. Still doesn't mean I can't WANT one though)
6. Brown shoes (I really don't own any nice ones. All my shoes are black)
7. A nice polar fleece
8. A photographic memory (Working on this currently. Will have the results after lead into gold project is completed)
9. A trip to Europe (May actually manage this one for the summer)
10. All my bills to be paid (The gift that keeps on giving, friends)

Boredom

So . . . I'm bored. I'm very very bored. It's my first week back in the town of my youth. Good old Ontario, Oregon. Something must be said about a place that is within MALHEUR county.

Anyway, I'm stuck here without a car and you need wheels around this place. When I was in high-school, we'd all get together to drive out to Boise, ID. So basically, we'd go from a small hick town to a bigger hick town (in defense of Boise, ID, it's pretty hip now. Still doesn't solve the problem of not having a car).

I think the other thing we did was bowl. We'd bowl EVERY weekend. Trouble now is my bowling buddies all live in Portland, OR.

Still, other times a friend of mine would have the keys to one of the many Mormon centers and we'd gain access to the basketball court. That'd basically kill a few hours too.

So it seems I'm out of luck for the time being. Many of my friends are married or living elsewhere and I don't have a car. *sigh* I guess I have to write POEMS then. Hrmph.

Free at last!

So today's the last "official" day of the semester apart from finals week. I have the good fortune of not having to meet on finals week, so I'm technically finished with the Fall 2004 semester as of 12:30PM.

The weekend's looking pretty full, though. I've got two dinners to attend and a goodbye party for a friend who teaches at Hamilton.

Anyway my Christmas break isn't really going to be a break at all. I'll be going to the dreaded MLA conference where I'll be surrounded by dust-soaked tweed and leather elbow pads (apologies to anyone who actually dresses this way). I'll also have the opportunity to observe people in the humanities acting inhumane. I'm generalizing, of course. I'm just cranky because I have to leave Oregon early for the conference and I haven't seen my mom and dad since the summer.

I've also got a plan to write during the Christmas break. Two weeks in boring old Ontario, OR, will definitely keep me propped in front of my laptop writing poems about cow-pie chucking. By the way, I've somehow convinced Meredith that the Jackalope is an actual animal.

*giggle*

Stay tuned.

I am a geek.

Yes, I am a geek. Meredith taught me how to use Excel to compute my grades and I got REALLY excited. Not sexually excited, just extremely happy. So then I created other spreadsheets . . . one to compute how much I spent on book contests, one to track all my submissions. I spent a few hours creating spreadsheets of my classes and my writing portfolio.

When I was younger, my preference during play time was to fiddle with the computer instead of going outside with the neighborhood kids. Not much has really changed. I'm into all sorts of gadgetry. If it bleeps, clicks, buzzes, or hums, I'll want it. Hours, perhaps years, were spent in front of my Commodore 64 computer. That same side of me wants an Xbox or a Playstation 2. The reason why I don't go out and purchase one is that I know it'd be career-suicide. I'd never leave the house, never work, never eat. . . It's bad enough with the computer games I have installed on my Mac.

In other gadgetry news, I broke my iPod the other day while working out at the gym and it was like losing a fluffy dog. It was really strange. It was on my arm-band (another gadget), playing a track by Erland Oye. I leaned back into one of those fancy-schmancy Cybex work out machines, heard a *CLUNK* and felt the iPod on my armband shudder. The iPod didn't skip, but when I looked at it, I saw that the LCD screen had a discernable tear so that I couldn't read any of the text. I powered it off, then I powered it back on and still the LCD was broken. Heartbroken, I immediately went to a computer repair center after my half-hearted workout. The repair center called me a couple days later with bad news. The repair bill for the thing would be $300!!! That's about the cost of the darn thing in the first place.

So now I'm sans my favorite gadget and I'm yearning for another one. I do know how to calculate grades with Excel, though. At least that's something.

Big news in pinoy poetry

I'm a little late in blogging this. If you haven't heard already, Patrick Rosal was the winner of the Asian American Writers' Workshop Members' Choice Awards for his fantastic book, Uprock Headspin Scramble and Dive. If you've never heard him read, you've never heard thunder.

In other news, Sarah Gambito's book, Matadora has just been released. I read it in manuscript form and it knocked my socks off. I'll be watching for the mail. . .

Finally, I neglected to wish Joseph Legaspi a happy birthday. So . . . Happy Birthday, buddy! I'm sorry I'm such a heel. Good things in the mail will come . . . after I get paid. ;-)

Drum roll please!

The word of the year is Blog!

I promised you a Christmas Tree

And I'll deliver . . . soon. Just discovered that there's a whole swatch of tree lights that are dimmed, so I'm going to have to fiddle with the bulbs a bit.

Anyway, it's snowing up here in Utica now. It's also dreadfully cold. The good thing about the cold at this time of year is that it forces me to stay indoors and be productive. I've cranked out grades on several revisions by students and I've finalized all the lesson plans in my classes. Things are settling down for the last push. Next week I'll have another stack of papers, portfolios, etc., but I won't feel as pressured as a normally do during the school year proper.

Once the semester's done, it's back to the writing desk for me. I've been juggling all sorts of advice, but I always fall back on locking myself in my room, reading voraciously, and assigning exercises for myself. Adrian Matejka called me up on Tuesday to light a fire under my butt. I guess my problem is that I've been "grade-comp-papers-mode" for the better bit of four months. I need to retrain my brain and I've got a little time to do it. I've also decided that I'm not going to wait for moments of inspiration. Usually I write poems in a series. I start one and I can't stop writing poems related to that series until I've used up the subject. Epic tradition? I don't know. My process is just painstaking.

When I was a biology student, way back when, I would write all my notes in long hand and then transcribe them in print. It was sick. I don't know how many organic chemistry formulas I wrote and rewrote. They're too numerous to count. Ask me now what I remember about O-chem and I can tell you about the teacher's Horn-rimmed glasses and tight polo t-shirts he'd wear. I could also tell you about camping out in the LMU cubicles nights before O-chem tests. But I can't tell you a damn thing about O-chem and I even TA'd the stupid class.

The point is, I'm a meticulous person. I've got too many stupid rituals to get myself to the writing table and I need to cut 'em back.

Here's one ritual that preceeds going to the writing table:

"Clean the house"

This is the ultimate in writerly procrastination. And I can assure you that without fail, before I engage in any writing activity, you'll see me vacuuming, mopping, scrubbing toilets, and scouring shower tiles. Papers need to be off the desk. Books need to be re-filed. Again, I refer back to my days as a young scientist studying for exams . . . nights before tests, I'd clean my entire apartment/dorm. My roommates loved it because they never cleaned a damn thing.

Years later, I've come to realize that my mother has the same habits. She'll clean an entire house before conferences, etc.. Only now, cleaning the house is fun for her. I don't think that cleaning house will ever be fun for me, but I still have to do it in order to commit pen to paper.

Poets, before you think about calling me to clean your houses, this cleaning ritual only works for my own domicle. It doesn't work for yard work or washing cars either. It's all about clearing my space . . . making my space sacred for my own writing.

I do have one habit that almost always supersedes my cleaning the house.


"Video Games"

I know what you're wondering. . . you're wondering, "What, is Oliver twelve?" I'm sorry, but I've been playing video games ever since I was eight. It's part of who I am. It relaxes me. It was so reassuring to hear that Adrian Matejka also plays video games and they also interfere with getting into writing rituals. I'm so glad I'm not the only one.

There've been times I was tempted to erase all the games off my computer hard drive, but I tell you, after teaching for six hours, my brain can't focus on my own writing, nor can my brain relax.

*sigh* I apologize for making you listen to me and all my excuses. I guess the first step is admitting you have a problem.

Ok, so I admit it. I'm a procrastinator. My name is Oliver de la Paz and I procrastinate.

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree . . .

Meredith and I purchased our Christmas Tree.

Driving around town with the thing on the hood of my truck was a bit nerve wracking. I was certain that at some point it'd blow away. Anyway, it had been raining for most of the day today, so the tree was quite damp.

Trees don't look all that glorious when their bound up with twine and heaped on top of a vehicle driving around gray Utica.

But after we got the thing up the stairs, dried off, and untied it sprung to life.

You'll get pictures in its full glory when I get my camera back from school.

Meantime, sleep off the tryptophan, friends.

Odd Couple

Holy Cheese Sandwich!!

This Cheese Sandwich has garnered a lot of attention in the news media today.

I suppose it's a relic that's up there with things like the left pinky finger print of Jesus on my car windshield, the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch, or the Tablecloth of Turin.

The Big Push

It's the week of Thanksgiving vacation and in academia, it's the time when classes are gearing up for the big push into the final home stretch.

This past week I had a barrage of things to correct and hand back to my students. Fortunately, I had the foresight to have all the major products come due last week so that I can have an actual break during Thanksgiving.

Here's what I intend to do:

1. Finish The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time

2. Watch lots of football

3. Cook a huge vat of garlic mashed potatos to bring to a Turkey Day party

4. Calculate some student grades (so it's not so overwhelming come the end of the semester)

5. Watch many movies, including Ray, Alfie, Alexsander, and other films with names in the titles.

6. Sleep. Sleep lots.

7. Organize my bookshelf

8. Organize my CD cases

9. Organize my life

National Book Award winners announced

Clicky!

I must admit that I haven't read any of the books on this list. Have you?

Hump day, but my week so far.

1. Graded 38 fiction portfolios. Some of the highlights include several portfolios with significant amounts of mising material and dialogue like "Oh, baby." "Hi." "Hi."

2. Corrected 32 written summaries, some of which were written about the wrong essay (hmmmmmmm).

3. Missed Daniel Tobin's reading at Hamilton.

4. Ate Meredith's pork roast two nights in a row.

5. Walked Jake twelve times. Covered him up with a blanket seven times.

6. Made fliers for Thom Ward and Phil Memmer reading.

7. Told student activities that they better post the fliers soon after passing their office and seeing them still in a pile a day later.

8. Thought about playing video games for thirty-six hours altogether.

9. Read short chapters out of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime

10. Took Digital photographs of approximately six pieces of art.

11. Accepted three CD's full of more art.

12. Took out garbage and recycling.

13. Went to the gym three times since Sunday.

14. Picked up an old barbeque grill.

15. Prepped for my Wednesday night Creative Writing class.

16. Made copies of a guide to acting.

17. Escorted Thom Ward and Phil Memmer through campus.

18. Read an introduction I prepared for Thom and Phil during the reading.

19. Took Thom and Phil to a Thai restaurant (if you've read my earlier post, not only do we have Vietnamese food in Utica, but we have Thai as well).

20. Raced back to campus for a Division meeting (which I missed).

21. Raced back to the Dean of Faculty's office for another meeting (which I barely caught)

22. Ran Jake for the thirteenth time.

23. Picked up poop.

24. Signed up 38 students for individual conferences to be held Thursday, Friday, Monday, Tuesday.

25. And I also aught classes . . . one of the topics was reality television. I want to become a reality tv celebrity these days.

And . . . it's only Wednesday.

It's Getting Cold!!!

It's about 20 degrees outside right now. I'm wearing four layers of clothing, drinking coffee, and curling up into a small ball as I grade the last set of my creative writing fiction (friction) portfolios.

I'm trying not to procrastinate, but . . . I hate grading at this point in the semester (hell, I hate grading, period). There's so much football on television. . . and I've got so many books I want to read.

Just received The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime and I want to spend all day reading. I've also got Rita Dove's new book, American Smooth.

I think the books will keep me warmer than the portfolios. Yes?

Most humorous thing I've read while grading portfolios . . .

This one's a direct quote from a fiction portfolio by a student in my Introduction to Creative Writing Class:

"This style of writing, for one, makes it very easy to read. If I wanted to become a writer and wanted to make the most amount of money, ie, appealing to the greatest number of readers, then this would be an ideal style to write with because everyone is able to read it and still get that there is more to it than what is written."


. . .

help me.

Cold and sleepy . . .

I took Jake out about an hour ago so he could fulfill his duties as a dog. Anyway, it's snowing. I'm not happy. It's the first of many snows. So many things left to do, too. I have to get my car winterized. . . I have to get thermal underwear. . . buy hot cocoa. *sigh*

Speaking of freezing . . . I saw this website with a map of the state-by-state % of votes for each candidate.

I'm still in shock. A colleague of mine was seen wearing a black arm band as she taught her classes.

I'm on a blogging roll!

Just thought I'd mention that The Incredibles is GREAT!!!!!!

I'm going to see it again! Also, there's a very exciting trailer for Star Wars Episode III. I know there are other geeks out there. I hear your heart racing at the mention of SW III. :-D Anyway, everyone in the theatre applauded after the trailer. BUZZZ BUZZZ BUZZZ!!!

Seriously scary factoid

Courtesy of Nick Carbo.

Sorry I've been away, but . . .

I'm swamped at the moment. I've got a set of essays coming in (33) plus about ten revisions. In addition to those papers, I've got about 30 portfolios for my creative writing class. I'm also bumming about 11/3.

Anyway, in better news:

Kundiman & Verlaine

presents

an evening of words & libation, celebrating
Pinoy Poetics, a groundbreaking anthology
of Filipino-American poetry

with readings by contributors:

Oliver de la Paz
Paolo Javier
Joseph O. Legaspi

Wednesday, November 10
Verlaine
110 Rivington St.
(b/w Ludlow & Essex Sts., Manhattan's Lower East Side)
212-614-2494

$5 suggested donation
Doors open at 5:30pm, readings at 6:45pm
Open bar, 6-7pm
Sponsored by Grey Goose Vodka & Gekkeikan Sake


For more information on Pinoy Poetics, please visit the following website:
Clicky


*****

MISSION STATEMENT
Kundiman is a non-profit organization committed to the discovery and cultivation of emerging Asian-American poets. Through instruction and collaboration programs with established Asian-American poets, Kundiman hopes to advance the quality of the work of Asian-American writers. Through literature, we aim to celebrate and promote evidence of strong and positive Asian-American culture and identity.

www.kundiman.org

Chomping noodles and chomping at the bit to vote.

Last night Meredith and I had Pho at Pho Mekong here in Utica with some friends from Hamilton College and Colgate College. (Yes, we have a Vietnamese restaurant in Utica). As always, with academics, talks turned to politics. We talked about the Red Sox first. Celeste Friend, a philosophy professor over at Hamilton is a devout Sox fan and saw symbolism in their victory over St. Louis. We talked about throwing a parade after victory. Because we're in a particularly red area of New York, we decided that that would be moderately dangerous, given that it's hunting season in Upstate New York. We plan on wearing loud colors . . . perhaps flourescent red.

We also talked about the strangest field trips we've ever had. How these two things came about in our conversations, I'll never know. Celeste talked about going to Plymouth Rock and watching the reenactors. Meredith talked about going to Civil War battle grounds. Jennifer, a Sociologist at Hamilton, talked about having inmates speak at her high school. We then talked about the differences between a "Shank" and a "Shiv." I'm not sure if there IS a difference. They're both stabby things. When I was young, we went to the birds of prey refuge center in Boise and we also went to see pigs get slaughtered.

Pho Mekong serves several shakes as desserts and I tried the avocado shake. Yes, it sounds weird, but it's excellent. It tastes a lot like green tea ice cream. Most everyone else ordered mango shakes. They apparently had durian shakes. I don't know if any of you have ever experienced durian fruit, but it smells like poo poo. Anyway, while we were drinking our shakes, we talked about swear words. Meredith was talking about the rules of language and how we place our swear words. We say things like "No F*#king way" and "Big F*#king deal." But we don't say "F*#king no way" or "F*#king big deal."

I don't see what the big f*#king deal is. It just sounds better one way than the other. Lots of things sound better one way than the other. . . Take President John F. Kerry, for example. That sounds a lot better to me than President George W. Bush. The World Champion Boston Red Sox sounds pretty good to me too. If you were to tell me that George won New York, I'd say "No F*#king way."

Halloween Costumes on the Subway

The AAWW reading was fun. Victoria Chang made an appearance! She and Todd came all the way out from the West Coast to hang with the East Coast posse. Anyway, the event was well attended and warm feelings were all around. Aimee, in true pinay fasion, had all the Filipino writers in attendance stand on the AAWW stage and pose for a picture. Watch her blog. ;-)

After, we all went to a bar called BLUE. Someone got a Rum and Coke that cost $10. Ouch. Beers were $6 a bottle. All complaining aside, the company was glorious. Pat Rosal was his luminous self, as was Paolo Javier. Joseph Legaspi wore his hot red pants and Sarah Gambito wore her tiger coat. Tina Chang and Jen Chang (not related) were as lovely as ever . . . We ate potstickers, fried calamari, and pizza. I watched Leslie Ann drink this bizarre milky alcohol . . . Meredith crawled underneath the table . . . Purvi had a Korean dish from a restaurant nearby . . . the night was strange. Everyone went dancing after the bar, but Mere and I were pooped. We didn't get much sleep on Friday because we had visted Meredith's friends Bram and Barbara Jean up in Rhinebeck and spent the night tossing and turning on a too-soft futon while the loud radiator kept ticking. We had gotten up very early on the Saturday morning and we drove down to Brooklyn, burning a good bit of our day. Anyway, Pat, Sarah, Joseph, Aimee, and the rest of the crew went dancing. We parted company.

After the BLUE bar, Meredith and I wandered over to the subway. A man in a banana costume greeted us as we boarded the train. He seemed to be completely naked except for his tennis shoes and his banana costume. Our fellow subway passengers were amused. I think mercury was in retrograde because we kept missing our stop while a cadre of costumed folks boarded and exited the subway. A sheik escorted a mutant ninja turtle. Tin tin wandered in with Mario. A character by the name of Flora Fandango sat in an adjacent seat. It was a strange but wonderful night.