Plight of the Troubadour

A Blog - A Life

2007-08-17T23:46:00.000-04:00

I'm not blogging these days; instead, I'm spending nearly all of my free time writing. (No, blogging is not the writing of literature*, just as scribbling in your journal is not literature--unless you edit your journal entries with an eye toward posterity, in which case I suppose the journal is no longer a journal, but a notebook.) Anyway, I have neither the time nor desire to feed my alter ego currently.

It's about the book. The book. The book. The book.

Oh, and publication history is here for those keeping score ----------------------------------->

* Don't believe a word I say.

2007-06-07T17:42:00.001-04:00

Just had a poem accepted for publication by Burnside Review, a really nice journal in my humble opinion. Go team.

AWP Crushes

2007-03-10T22:06:00.000-05:00

Aside from one panel (What's New in Jewish Poetry, which, incidentally, was breathtaking), I made it a point to do two things while at AWP: 1) Attend readings, and 2) Write.

And the writing was prolific, principally because of my new (or continued) crushes on just some of the following writers I heard while in Atlanta:

Ilya Kaminsky
Jason Schneiderman
Kevin Brockmeier
Steve Gehrke
Brenda Miller
Robin Becker
Ander Monson

These, of course, are in addition to all you writers/bloggers I heard off-premesis. You know who you are, even if I remained annonymously in the background.

2007-03-07T19:35:00.000-05:00

Writing a book. Ingredients: scraps of hair, synaptic gaps, talents unspeakable and time / time / time.

2006-09-28T17:31:00.000-04:00

Blogging wears thin as my writing grows. If I continue with this, it will be just about the writing life. That's it. No whining journal. No pretending this forum is a close, personal friend. It's public, after all.

It Happened

2006-08-18T21:33:00.000-04:00

I put pen to paper in a creative capacity for the first time in months. I'm terrified it won't stop, this flow of words, until the book I can't tell you about is born. I'm also terrified it might die in the birthing canal.

Ask for an ultrasound.

The Art of the Personal Rejection - Part 39

2006-08-12T16:27:00.000-04:00

This from The Southern Review:

Dear Mr. Harris-Gershon:

Thank you for sending me the essay "Reclamation Project." Although it came very close (hence the time we have spent with it and how long this response has been in getting to you), we have decided against using it. The writing is spare and sharp, but the story seemed to amble a bit more loosely than I would have hoped...

So I'm an ambler. I take strolls while writing. A slow gait, unhurried--leisurely--the breaths paced evenly every four steps or so, arms swinging, rising occasionally to pull moss off dead branches and flick it casually into an ocean-inspired breeze.

So be it.

Radiohead

2006-08-08T14:17:00.000-04:00

My poem "Lost" (care of SOFTBLOW) can now be heard on the most recent edition of "The Goodnight Show." Thanks Michelle Buchanan.

Home Sweet Home

2006-08-08T14:09:00.000-04:00

The dust has finally settled. After wading through mound of boxes, sorting, stuffing and throwing items in their respective places, we now oficially call Wilmington home. Inhales deeply.

I am anxious for the MFA program to begin, for my writing to be renewed--for the past two months, with all of our motion and wheels spinning, I have written nothing. Discipline. I look forward to your company once again.

Discipline
n.

Training expected to produce a specific character or pattern of behavior, especially training that produces moral or mental improvement.
Controlled behavior resulting from disciplinary training; self-control.
1. Control obtained by enforcing compliance or order.
2. A systematic method to obtain obedience: a military discipline.
3. A state of order based on submission to rules and authority: a teacher who demanded discipline in the classroom.
Punishment intended to correct or train.
A set of rules or methods, as those regulating the practice of a church or monastic order.
A branch of knowledge or teaching.

Check In

2006-07-15T14:23:00.000-04:00

Yes, I know it has been some time since posting, but with all of the movement going on presently, this blog has had to take a back seat, along with the crying infant and whining toddler (who both don't seem to like 10 hour car rides to North Carolina and back for some reason).

We found an amazing house in an amazing neighborhood in Wilmington, and are excited to finally have some space. Is it really possible we'll be renting a 3 br./2 bath HOUSE for the same price as our 600 sq. feet, one bedroom apartment? With a fenced in backyard, front porch, and walking distance to historic downtown? Mmmmhmmm. The picture posted here is not our house--I packed the computer which has the only photo of our new place--but this one is fairly similar. Anyway, our apartment is a mess and we must finish packing for our move at the end of this month, so I probably won't be posting much until we're settled in August.

In other news, MiPo Radio's "The Goodnight Show" will be presenting one of my poems from SOFTBLOW, "Lost." That is, if I can figure out how to get this freakin' audio blogger to work.

2006-06-23T22:23:00.000-04:00

We're off to Wilmington--looking for housing, for salt-encrusted dreams and a kickin' organic co-op. May we find all three.

Of Ice and Men

2006-06-18T08:05:00.000-04:00

Let's get one thing straight: I don't like hockey. Never have. Perhaps it's residual angst over the Atlanta Flames packing up and moving to Calgary when I was a child. Though more likely it's that, growing up, I only encountered ice when drinking tall glasses of Coke in the steaming summer sun.

But last night, the TV flickering in the background while writing, I heard 40,000 people collectively singing Oh Canada. That's how they do it in Edmonton. No celebrity with flare. No pop star with pomp. Just citizens singing to their country and their players. Together. Now, I'm not one to get tingly over nationalism; in fact, it often scares me. But this was different--there was a genuine sense of unity founded on collective good will, and I was drawn in, watched the game, enjoyed it.

The violence. I was drawn in.

Last summer, as the "Director of Sports" at a camp in the Northeast, I played my first game of hockey (on concrete) late at night with some of the counselors. In my 31 years, I had never come close to striking someone, never tested my mettle in a fight. Never wanted to. But after getting checked hard into the wall by a 14 year old beast, something snapped. I grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall before restraining myself.

The violence. The unity. I was drawn in--never want to play another game of hockey again. But I probably will, after singing a rousing rendition of Oh Canada. Tamara Hoover Singapore World Cup Britney Spears Dateline Karl Rove Beats the Democrats Rachel Blake Atmedia Dixie Chicks Ghana

2006-06-14T14:47:00.000-04:00

When it rains...my work is now up at SOFTBLOW. I am grateful. World Cup Flock Heather Mills Hadji Girl Abruzzo Jason Leopold Ubuntu Picasa John Tierney

2006-06-12T08:52:00.000-04:00

The newest issue of Stickman Review is up, featuring work from yours truly and a host of sweet writers. Check it out. Stories: World Cup Scoble Heather Mills Yearlykos Vloggercon Some of those pesky voters Some of all fears Guantanamo Jocks and Prejudice Ann Coulter

Personal Essay Fragment

2006-06-03T07:02:00.000-04:00

(Click on text and zoom to read)

Stories: Bellsouth Myspace Digg Clay Aiken The Deadliest War in the World Bellsouth Haditha Insurgency Out, Anarchy In Pirate Bay Ubuntu Secretary, Protect Yourself Rocio Jurado World Cup

2006-05-26T09:05:00.000-04:00

There is a book inside me waiting to be released, the story sending shockwaves, reverberating within, shaking the past, altering it and a future yet to be shaped. The burden.

2006-05-22T14:53:00.000-04:00

Fine, I admit it--I'm excited about becoming a student. Again. Just received UNCW's MFA course descriptions for next year. So, you're telling me no more late nights slumped before a pulsing screen, one eye closed, forming sentences in a semi-conscious state?

Yep, I'm excited, feeling papillon, Old French, a butterfly.

2006-05-17T08:09:00.000-04:00

Change is in the mail.

Yesterday, I received a gift, unexpected only because I forgot about the request, the email I sent claiming to have heard from Kate Greenstreet that they were giving away copies. For free. And so it arrived, the first issue of Practice: New Writing + Art.

It saved my life, starving, depleted. Let it save yours. Email the editors and get a copy. Then eat. Be full.

Absent

2006-05-15T10:42:00.000-04:00

Feeling overwhelmed / nothing to say / change / is / imminent.

It's been said before.

2006-05-08T08:23:00.000-04:00

Wake up.

Once, I awoke before dawn, a child, alone, covers drawn tight. Looking at the open doorway, I saw someone standing in the frame, transparent, pulling a bow tightly, an arrow poised, flying through the air, the figure reloading rapidly and launching a cloud of flint-tipped rods toward me. I ducked under the covers, felt arrows bounce off shoulders, shaking, frightened.

When the round had finished, I peeked around folds of cotton, and nothing. Just morning light.

2006-05-03T22:29:00.000-04:00

2006-05-01T10:06:00.000-04:00

My new author photo -- giggle -- (which SOFTBLOW dug)
Tired. In love.

Rah-Rah

2006-04-30T14:51:00.000-04:00

Just learned that SOFTBLOW will be publishing 3 poems of mine. Go team.

2006-04-27T19:22:00.000-04:00

Image: Two more paragraphs from a current project.
(Click for clarity)

2006-04-26T11:22:00.000-04:00

You must read THIS and familiarize yourself with HER:

Lauren Bender, before reading on Monday night, had her "Chief Financial Advisor" pass out a "prospectus" to everyone in the audience. This was the lead page:

_____________________________

Lauren Bender: Your Creative Investment Since 1980

The Lauren Bender story is one of Mom-n-Pop Americana and continuous reassignment. Lauren Bender began as a creative venture by William and Patricia Bender who, ready for children, conceived of a new brand of poetic product, somewhere between a vacation to the Grand Canyon and the bedroom at the end of the hall. Lauren Bender was born out of the uterine idea that creative capital is an embraceable myth. Since that time, the Lauren Bender brand has assumed all the traits of a successful, if not slightly disillusioned, performative competitor.
Lauren Bender is now recognized as a schizoaffective, idealistic force in the performance poetry scene, with growing recognition in the Mid-Atlantic region. Growth of the brand has been proven consistently since 2000, when with the Mobtown Writers' Collective merger and subsequent graduation from two-dimentional forms to a more performative style of written work, Lauren Bender introduced critical and collaborative support to other equally interdisciplinary ventures. Following this leap from the visual to the verbal sphere, the Bender philosophy has remained true to its roots, both through regional pride and historical reference, and continues to seek out poetic philanthropy in the production of semi-accessible conceptual work.

_______________________

She offers herself as an investment opportunity, in actuality and as a social-poetic commentary, and I guarantee she's worth her salt on both fronts. You can check her out as the Feminine Arbitrating of Phrases in the Performance Thanatoloy Research Society, her myspace account, etc, etc...