Readings and Wantings

Went to Open Books for Brenda Hillman’s reading this evening.  It was packed, standing room only by the time she started, despite the blustery and rainy evening.  A lot of UW students were there, including some of the friends I’ve made.  It’s a strange place, to be friends with current MFA students in a program I didn’t attend.  They have been nothing but kind, but I definitely feel like a bit of an outsider sometimes.  I was talking to one of them about Forrest Gander (and his book Eye Against Eye, my pick for the poetry book club I’ve become part of) and Brenda overheard.  She brought it up later in the night, both as an example of a poet that “Aunt Zelda” would like, and as a poet who continually evolves and is currently on top of his game.  I instantly had to think back–had I said something contradictory to that and she was countering? I forget that conversations can be overheard sometimes. We all create our private bubble and it’s shocking when reminded- this isn’t a conversation that exists outside of earshot.  I was so concerned about what I might have said about Forrest (which, when reflecting back calmly, was just that I have a bit of a crush and I love his work, Torn Awake a bit more than Eye Against Eye, but still, I love all of it) that I didn’t realize until later that Brenda said she overheard students talking.  But I’m not a student anymore. And this, frankly, breaks my heart a little.

Brenda, before her reading, talked a lot about the importance of supporting local book stores.  Open Books is one of the reasons I felt I had to come to Seattle, and I love that I can just walk down a few blocks and buy from them.  I do try to get poetry from them rather than online, and for the most part, I can do it.  It was crowded tonight, but I plan on going back to get the next book club book there.  Rumor has it that Elliot Bay will be closing its doors in Pioneer Square, and I’ve heard that it’ll be moving to Capital Hill.  Still, it’s such a landmark- that it has to move at all is shocking.  And yet, not. So buy books from your local stores for your Aunt Zelda, as Brenda suggested.  I might head down to Open Books and do my shopping there- include with each book a letter about why I’m in Seattle, what I’m trying to do here, and why I’ve chosen to send poetry rather than cooking utensils.  Thanks for the suggestion Brenda.

New Work

I review Jeff Encke’s (book) and write about David Hinton’s (book) for Web Del Sol Review of Books.

(It’s pouring in Seattle. There are meteors showering tonight. Book club was at my house this evening, the wind is battering at my window. I love concurrencies.)

In the Post

What bees and babes is this place luring?

(from Gretel and the Witch)

I have my very own copy of The Ravenous Audience now, and I’m so glad to hold it in my hands. I had the great fortune to see this book along its way to book-ness. This is not a shy book, and it is not for the timid reader.  Kate tackles a lot, and she is unafraid in her words. There are delicate moments, but there are raw moments too. It’s a great collection, and I just wish that I was in Southern California to hear her read from its pages.  I guess I’ll just have to try to tempt Kate back to Seattle for a visit and a reading…

Not From Around Here

Seattle is a place of transplants. The Heroes show, last night and tonight at the Jewel Box Theater in Belltown (inside Rendezvous… but that’s another story) explores the idea of Not From Around Here in six personal essays where writers and artists and musicians collaborate to map out their own experiences within this city and others.

Maybe I’m partial, but Carrie Purcell’s segment was my favorite.  Her piece interwove third person personal essay and the history of the King Cello with cello music by Hana Mareckova, It was beautiful, and I’m very glad I stuck around Belltown to attend.  The place was packed into the aisles and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.

It’s refreshing to be reminded that other people aren’t from around here either. That they have the same difficulties that I do, that they have the same worries.  Why did I come out here, is this really what I thought my life would be, how did I end up doing this thing?  Seattle is starting to be my home, not just a place I am staying, and I like that.  My housemate this morning mentioned something to the same affect- that I am taking ownership of certain things in the house were before, I was tentative.  I think I have little patience for tentative action now.  I want grand gestures, I want exclamations and affirmations.  I want things put in containers and not just open glasses placed on a shelf in the fridge.

I also continually want to share this place. I am not from around here, but I claim this as my own. I want to show you the rain slicked streets, the light refracting off of the ground. I want to show you the crack along the horizon as the sun sets and the rain clears for just a moment.  I want you to smell the perfume and sweat on the bus, to see the leaf as it blows twelve stories above the ground past the office window. I want you to hear the rain dripping through the ceiling and pinging off of the displays in the Great Gallery. I want you to leap over dips in the sidewalk with me, I want you to dance in the kitchen with me, to laugh with me as I tumble down the stairs.

Ghosts spill into the street

The house, too, was like this,

over painted, over lovely–

the world is like this.

- H. D. The Gift

 

It was a perfect autumn evening when I walked home from A’s house on Halloween.  Near full moon, deep blue sky, orange street lights pouring over the leaf covered sidewalk.  My shoes barely made a sound, my skirt puffed out beneath my coat.  On almost every corner laughter spilled out of windows, glasses clinked and plates clattered.

It’s a few days later now, and the walk is still inside me somewhere.  Caught in my ribcage maybe, or tucked beneath my shin bone.

C picked an H. D. book for book club, and her simple lines have me excavating text again.  There is something satisfying about digging deeper and deeper.  About unearthing.

Why I Should Google Myself More Often

Apparently, in April of 2008, my work was the Web Monthly Feature at Verse Daily.

Newer news:

Current work appears in the November issue of elimae.

Warmth

I agree with my sister, this dress makes me happy.  It’s not only springtime wonderful, but seeing her site reminds me again that I want to be more of a crafter.  Coming across her current contest coincides with listening to a podcast about crafts from To The Best of Our Knowledge.  It made sense to hear that crafting can actually help depression.  I was always sort of flippant about my crocheted afghan and the summer I spent working on it, but I guess I was tuning into something that was actually helping.

In the spirit of all this, I brought out the scarf I began last year while keeping my housemate company in the kitchen last night.  I got a few rows done, but it still needs work.  I’m having trouble justifying working on it while I still don’t have a job I’m happy in though.  Something is always in the way.  And then there are books to read and poems to work on and fellowships to apply for….

So I admire crafters. And one day, I will join your ranks.  Until then, visit my sister’s blog for her amazing projects, and stay tuned for the eventual-scarf.

Shouting off a cliff

I don’t have any pictures (yet) but Carrie Purcell and I read at Pilot Books on Friday night.  Despite the rain, Carrie brought many friends and I brought family and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.  We went out to Vermillion afterwards, and it might be my new favorite place on Capitol Hill.  With a gallery in the front it has the feel of a speakeasy, the bar tucked into the dark brick beyond white walls.  There’s a jukebox and plenty of mac and cheese, tables to move around and music that doesn’t smother conversation.

In lui of photos of the evening, here’s some new art (thanks to my new scanner!) I’m not sure that it’s finished yet, but I wanted to post something.

Also, keep an eye on elimae, new work of mine will be appearing in November.

Time for Pumpkins

The colder weather and the on-again, off-again rain mean that it’s time to start baking again.  I’ve been a bit distracted lately, but with some extra pumpkin puree in the fridge and this awesome recipe, curtsy of my sister, I had at it in the kitchen this afternoon.  Instead of circles I made owls, and I just stuck with the ginger frosting.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had scones.  Muffins and toast seem to be more my speed these days, and I’m less about sweet things.  The icing is sweet, but the scones themselves aren’t.  Sort of a nice combination, if I do say so.

In addition to baking, I’m really digging into my books about Tyndall and Sir Oliver Lodge.  I’m continually amazed by the communities that used to exist, both in the artistic and scientific communities.  The minds meeting for drinks at ale houses or teas in each other’s living rooms seems fictitious.  I am left wondering if those same meetings are happening today, and which names people, a hundred years from now, will look back on and be amazed by.  I don’t know that communities function in the same way now.  People are more spread out, communication is through email and phone calls and there isn’t quite the elaborate record that exists from the turn of the 20th century.  But I don’t think that we’re without communities and meetings of minds.  I feel like I’m part of something larger than myself these days, and thank you to everyone in Seattle who has taken me in.  It’s a year now. Glorious.

So Who Wants Me?

I’m tired of feeling just to the left of where I want to be in Seattle.  I love the city, but it hasn’t exactly loved me back in the proper ways.  Last night the rain fell and fell.  It’s raining again.  Although I had intended on going to a job fair today, as I was pulling on tights and finding a shirt to match my skirt, I realized how little I wanted to network and push resumes into hands that belong to Target, Macy’s, Home Depot….

Yes, I need a better job.  But moving into another duldrum position isn’t what I need to do.  So I sat down and started working on fellowship applications.  Yes, I got a bit distracted with yummy food recipes.  But I have most of one application finished, and then I switched gears towards volunteering.

Every time I go into the Seattle Art Museum, I think I should be here. I shouldn’t be working near planes, I should be here instead.  I know that they aren’t hiring, but I have time, so what’s stopping me from volunteering?  The answer is- nothing.

So S.A.M, 826, Hugo House… I’ve submitted applications to volunteer at all of them, and if I’m getting in a bit over my head, well, frankly I’ve been spinning my wheels for too long.  It’s time to pack my schedule again.  Readings, volunteering, jobs, writing- I work best when I’m working. So who wants me? I’m coming at you, ready to be put to task.