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I think my mum has actually used this as a backing for other prints/paintings she’s sold. So if whoever bought it ever re-framed what they bought, they’ll discover a misprint of this print. I’d say this is circa 2001 or so. It’s what happens when you have a mum who’s an artist. Oh look! The color of your hair and your bra/tank top match! Let me grab my camera, here, the shed is a nice background…. We never had normal family albums, and we’re all the better for it. Pah studio portraits!
Today I went to see Peggy Shumaker read. She read last night with Ann Carson, a reading I had to miss because it sold out. A reading sold out. Yup. That aside, Peggy read wonderfully, and I’m glad I went. She read a new piece, some work from Blaze,” but the majority of the reading came from “Just Breathe Normally.” After the reading, I went to the student store to grab food with Kaite. On our way back, Peggy and Maurya Simon were walking to Peggy’s car. We stopped to chat, and thank Peggy for her lovely reading. And Peggy handed each of us a copy of her book! I wanted to buy it, especially after the reading, but there she was, reaching into the box she was loading into her car, and handing it to me. She signed it and everything. So kind. Someday, I will have a book, and I will return the favor. If not to Peggy (though that’d be really nice, to find her again and send her a copy) to a student in my place.
I should have known it was going to be a good day when I walked outside and it was absolutely beautiful. I finally remembered to grab my camera and snap some photos, though I think I missed the snow on the mountains. It was warm enough today to get a bit sunburnt while reading on my back patio, and though there was snow in the morning, by the time I returned to campus for Peggy’s reading, either the mists came in or the snow had (finally) melted. Sad. The white peak of the mountain from the balcony on the fourth floor has been reassuring these past few weeks. Here are some poppies, from outside the police sub-station, and the sun as it dies around 5 o’clock against the trees in front of the new building. We even had the first part of seminar outside, four women sitting on a strange but perfect cement stoop behind the new building.
for a brief few days last week. the walk to the botanical gardens was lovely. it’s been raining ever since, and not metaphorically, but actually. strange here, to have so much rain.
I miss painting. I miss sculpting. I have scraps of art, but in general, I’ve abandoned half of myself these days. No wonder I feel clunky.
I wish this had been built. Boullee (there’s an accent over the first e, but I don’t know how to insert it on here) designed a cenotaph for Newton in 1784, but like many of his over-stretching designs, it was never made. Here’s what he wanted, according to Sidney Perkowitz: “Boullee’s plan to honor Newton placed an enormous hollow sphere, 750 feet in diameter, on a massive plinth 300 feet high; Newton’s empty tomb lies at the bottom center of the sphere. From that spot, visitors see daylight thorough starlike openings in the sphere above, a planetarium effect simulating the cosmos that Newton had tamed. At night the sphere was to be filled with a facsimile of brilliant sunlight, although the requisite artificial illumination had yet to be invented.”
What audacity! Fill this with light, but I don’t know how. How majestic it would have been if created. There is something so captivating about light. Perhaps this is why I’m researching and reading the rules of how to bend it, how to use interference to create darkness out of beams/waves of light. Intriguing. We no longer create mythic statues for anyone, let alone scientists. We are so secure in our knowledge, but so were they. What are we operating under as truth that is more malleable than we realize? Bend light.
It’s actually grey here, again. Last night Chris called, the moon a fading blood-red above him, the left over after-effect of a total eclipse. It was too cloudy to see it here, a first that it was clearer in New Jersey than CA. I might be wrong, but I feel like this past year and a half there have been more eclipses than normal. I think I’m going to start marking time by the eclipses. Before the first, after the second, and here we go, after the third. Thus enters Post Eclipse III.
Recently it was suggested that we, in the UCR MFA program, start a weblog of our awards and publications. Good idea. So, being Grad Rep, I set up a weblog (www.ucrmfawork.wordpress.com) and thought people would go for it. Publication rights are now being debated over the list-servs, and it’s being suggested to make it an in-house sort of thing. While copyright is a valid debate, links won’t hurt. Keeping it in-house will sort of prevent it from being useful for publicizing how amazing (and publishing) our students and alumni are. I highly suspect I’ll be the only entry for a while, and the whole thing was pointless to set up. I hope to be proven wrong, but I’m not holding my breath.
Today I wrote the same poem four different times. I’m not sure if each one counts as a new draft. I think I’ve come to something that’s okay. Who knows.
But I did get solid work done on the light series. I’m assuming we’re going to have to come to class next quarter with an entire series on day one, and so I’m getting a bit of a jump start. By jump start, I mean a slow plod towards the starting line.
I miss running with a team. Chalk of the start line. Crack of the gun. (sidenote)
Nothing like a long walk to make you feel better. Me feel better. Not that I was feeling poorly, but it was nice. The gardens are full of colors this time of year, and it’s about 80 degrees right now. I’m going to be a bit sunburnt, I can already feel it. I sat on cement steps for a while, bare feet against the coolness. A lizard kept inching closer and then scurrying back up the tree beside me.
Checked on the iris garden, but it’ll be a while until they bloom. Still, hopefully I won’t miss it this year. California can be beautiful, I can see why people stay. Snowing so much at home Chris went home early from work, and there I am, sitting in rolled up pants and a tank top. With lizards darting everywhere.
This photo is from a while ago, but same place. Though I didn’t see a tailless guy this time around.
Busy week, lots of writers, lots of readings. And in the end, it was all sort of a blur, with voices weaving in and out. I feel like I can’t remember a thing.
Polaroid has stopped making film.
Stormtroopers lined the stairs of a museum in Philadelphia.
Ever seen people do the twist to Allen Ginsberg? Watch “Poetry in Motion” and you will. Thanks to my student for lending me a very odd documentary, odd not so much because of the documentary but the poets. Yelling and reading. Precursor to slam.
Instead of writing, I’m wondering if I should iron a shirt for tomorrow, or do the dishes. Winter blues when it isn’t cold. Very odd.