O.J. Confesses

My Unique Name --- An Interlude

2012-01-17T12:37:00.003-06:00

I am the only "Ori Fienberg" in North America, and for now, if Google is to be believed, the world.

Some of this is because "Ori" is a unique name outside of Israel. Some of it is because "Fienberg" is a unique spelling (The likely apocryphal story of why the family name is "Fienberg" is worthy of it's own post on another day).

When I first started to care about what popped up when someone searched for me on the internet I would always start by typing in my name without quotes. Invariably I would be prompted: "Do you mean Ori Feinberg?" Who was this person who shared my name, but for a slight spelling variation (also, I don't know his middle name)? Why did Google prefer him over me? What did I have to do to be the dominant "Ori F---berg" (there's also an "Ori Fineberg" in Israel)? Apparently Mr. Feinberg has an MA in Contemporary Art, and at the time was an aspiring gallery owner. Every now and then I'd receive an e-mail intended for Mr. Feinberg, sometimes in Hebrew, which I'd forward along to him.

Last night I was checking my e-mail and saw that one of my colleagues had sent out a general update in which she instructed students who did not know their Workshop times to e-mail me. Great! But evidently she doesn't know how to spell my last name because she gave them the g-mail address for Mr. Feinberg. I e-mailed the students with my real e-mail (which the students and my colleague should have anyway), and then I sent an e-mail to Mr. Feinberg, apologizing for the random queries he might get, and asking if he could please forward them to me.

Later this morning he replied to say he would (he never has before, and given how often my name is spelled wrong on name tags at events, I can't imagine that he hasn't received anything before), and then suggested that in order to avoid this in the future I should change from g-mail to Yahoo. While I can't help but feel some small connection to Mr. Feinberg, in part because of our names, and in part because we both value the arts, his response seemed rather presumptuous. I never told him he should change *his* account when I received his e-mail.

Perhaps his suggestion stems from some insecurity: not long after I discovered he existed through Google's suggestions I eclipsed "the other Ori F" in internet presence. I suspect when he Googles his own name it asks him if he meant "Ori Fienberg." I've been there, so if this is the case I understand his irritation. But despite this and the minor inconvenience he may have had in the past when he deleted messages intended for me and now when he may choose to forward me a few student e-mails, I don't have any plans to change the main e-mail account I've had for 7 years.

Short and Sweet

2011-12-27T07:26:00.003-06:00

The end of the year is approaching, and as I do each year about this time I take stock of the writing I've sent out to literary journals. Around fall, when my submission fatigue set in, it appeared that this would be a bumper-year for publications, however after several publications dates were postponed, it ended up just keeping pace with past years. Here's a selection from/of pieces that appeared on the world wide strangeness this year:

". . . His fingertips are like gentle sandpaper, soft from years of rubbing." - from Night Hungers, in Kill Author

"On the horizon a red sunset walls off the earth from grey rain clouds." - from Brick Harvest, in The Prose Poems Project

"Naturally, it is important for all business to be conducted reclining." - from To the Heart, in the Nashville Review

I know of a few pieces I'll have published in 2012, and meanwhile here's a final piece for 2011. After I submitted to Serving House Journal I had a brief exchange with the editor, Steve Kowit, about one piece, then SHJ decided to publish another and forgot to tell me.

No matter; it's so small (the smallest I've ever had accepted) that I might have forgotten to tell me too. You can read it here:

"At night, cars with one burned out headlight pretend to be motorcycles."

Thanks for reading. Happy Holidays and New Year!

Reflections: on the Death of Literary Journals

2011-12-07T08:37:00.005-06:00

This morning I had a little free time and so I checked in on some of the internet publications I enjoy. I started by checking to see if Slurve Magazine, "The Arts & Culture Review that Masquerades as a Baseball Publication," had bit the dust yet.

Slurve was one of my first publications. I'd heard from a writing peer that she had been published there, and as I was somewhat publication-lite myself, and interested in having at least some work available online to the three people each year who probably Googled me, I decided I'd check them out.

Slurve was nascent. I looked around and liked the potential. The published contributors each had "baseball cards" with their stats and author info. I had just finished an essay about baseball cards and so it tickled my fancy. The editors asked not for "submissions" but for "tryouts," in all genres, including reviews and political commentary. This, I thought, seems like a good idea.

I submitted several pieces, had three accepted and published just a few months later. Not to say that I've had any pieces published that I'm not proud of, but I especially like the three they selected: an alternative-universe piece about baseball and poetry, and two about growing up in slightly odd ways. I was pleased to have them available to the world.

But they never managed to get my baseball card up on the site. And after another three months no new work had been posted. Then another three months passed. About two years later I checked in and discovered that the Slurve team was under new-management. The Head Coach had been jettisoned. The team had been moved from Boston to Los Angeles. New work was coming soon. It didn't come that soon. I stopped checking Slurve for new writing and instead visited periodically to see if it had died yet.

Their Facebook page indicates that the new work did come, and that in fact for at least a few months this year Slurve was posting regularly, however as of today, it's gone. I expected the end for so long, but that it's gone I'm a little surprised. Publication by Slurve was a minor milestone in my young writing career, and now they're gone. Selfishly, I guess I'm glad that their literary career petered out before mine.

Fortunately, internet is filled with many worthy little literary journals (both original and offshoots of print publications) that collect pieces you could never hope to run across in the Paris Review or Poetry, or some other high-falutin' journal, but are nevertheless beautiful and provocative. Through submissions and word-of-mouth I've discovered dozens of them (too many to read regularly) including elimae, which merrily trucks along in minimalist glory and PANK, which I check somewhat more regularly, and not just because they've published me.

Within the last couple years I also discovered two other journals whose format I especially liked, Wonderfort, and Abjective. Both featured one author or collaboration a week, a format which I found both simple and pleasing. To be fair (or maybe a little unfair), Wonderfort appeared to be a rather direct parallel of the style of Abjective, and the editor of one was published by the editor of the other at least once. Maybe it would be better to say they had a rapport.

Regardless, when I checked them today only Abjective remains online, for now displaying the somewhat terse message: "ABJECTIVE no longer publishes". If you go to the main site it displays random pieces from its archive, which are filled with many delightfully strange pieces.

Wonderfort, on the other hand, is completely gone. Where did it go? When was the fort breached? When did the wonder stop?

Selections from the Complete Rhyming Dictionary

2011-11-20T09:23:00.003-06:00

... and Poet's Craft Book, Edited by Clement Wood, c. 1936

The desire to write poetry, or at least acceptable verse is almost universal. The achievement of this desire may be gained by anyone, without excessive effort.

* * *

Poetry is the expression of thoughts which awake the higher and nobler emotions or their opposites, in words arranged according to some accepted convention.

* * *

Insofar as the conventions of poetry were artificial and unnatural, poetry tended constantly to rigidify and petrify. It became artificial and unnatural,
whereas prose continued...

* * *

Poets, bound by fossilized conventions, have become a tepid social group...

* * *

The fulfillment of desire causes others to spring hydra-like from its invisible corpse.

* * *

In all cases the danger is rather in the overuse of the intellect, than in the use of inspiration.

Grass Jelly Soda [Drink]

2011-09-27T19:08:00.008-05:00

I am an adventurous eater, and sometimes, that can backfire.

Every now and then, someone asks me about my least successful food experiences, and I only have one answer for them: grass jelly soda. Sometimes the name is so inexplicable that they're stuck, and don't bother to ask about it. Other times they're intrigued, and want to know more. But despite myself, I've been unable to give them an adequate explanation of my horror. It just seemed like too much. But at long last I've decided to, if not conquer my fear, at least put it into words.

During high school, my chemistry teacher, who despite acting as a professional taste-tester for Coca-cola for a several years (which I thought sounded cool), was mind numbingly, and perhaps competitively boring, managed to impart only one interesting piece of wisdom:

"If you want to eat really healthy, just eat brightly colored [natural] food."

I bring this up, because the color of grass jelly soda, and particularly the grass jelly, is almost utterly devoid of brightness. I think it's the darkest green a semi-opaque substance can be without turning black. It stands to reason that grass jelly soda is in no way healthy, but it goes beyond that. While the colors of other foods are inviting, the color of grass jelly soda is a warning. It's a color with glittering, malevolent intent, like the eyes of an attacking swamp monster.

For the taste, imagine blending a bunch of grass, bitter-glossy leaves, a child's handful of potting soil, with a hint of mint. Add to that the same cloying sweetness of the liquid amoxicillin doctors prescribe to children.

Finally, "grass" "jelly" "soda" contains no grass (it's made from some sort of mint-like leaf) and no soda (it was a syrupy liquid. To be fair, "Grass Jelly Drink," is far more common. My can had no English on it, and so the store where I bought it was responsible for that element of false advertising). As for the jelly, that's where words really fail. It's not so much jelly, as gelatinous-substance, and also, it's chunky.

Ultimately, truth in advertising wouldn't have mattered: I still would have bought it had it been called "Malevolent Chunky Gelatinous-substance in Leaf Syrup" (not that far-fetched if you've ever wander around a Super 88 market). Apparently there are many different kinds, and I feel like I should give another variety a try, but it's hard. Very hard. I'm just not sure I'm ready yet.

Reading the Street

2011-09-22T10:19:00.004-05:00

Lilly, my parents' dog, is a sweetheart. When you're sick she'll lie down on the floor next to your bed and keep you company. She very rarely barks, and instead communicates using a variety of whines, all with different pitches and tones, to let us know she's hungry, wants to go outside, or is excited to see someone. When her food bowl is brought to her outside she prances merrily until it's put down. She occasionally jumps up to greet people, but usually she returns to the ground quickly. Certainly, there's no question: Lilly has many admirable traits. She is a good dog.

However, despite what might be expected of a German Shepherd, she's never struck me as particularly smart. She completed an obedience school class, and then returned for remedial work when she was about two years old. Of course, practice makes perfect, and while they strongly encouraged me to practice my trumpet every day for a couple of years, my parents haven't done much to ensure that Lilly continued her education and practice at home.

Now, at over 4 years old, it's not clear what Lilly remembers/learned from her training. She sometimes acknowledges her name by lifting her head, but rarely comes when called. She's trained my father to play a form of fetch in which he throws, she brings the ball or stick back to within about fifteen feet, and only relinquishes it once another ball is thrown. After the final walk of the night, we have successfully conditioned her to sit and wait for her treat, but outside of that context, and without a treat forthcoming, Lilly simply looks on quizzically as I encourage her to do tricks.

Despite not retaining much memory of her schooling, I still hold out hope for Lilly, because I believe she's an inquisitive reader, and as I always tell my writing students, reading can make you better at just about anything. While the house is filled with books, I'm not suggesting that Lilly is a big fan of literature, rather she's a street reader, a reader of scents.

When my parents take Lilly on her final walk of the night around 10, they let her sniff around a little, but especially as Autumn descends and it becomes colder, the walk is more of a march. We complete the .75 mile loop in about 15 minutes, however we have to pull Lilly away from her reading in order to make it in around that time.

Once I had the idea of Lilly reading in my head I couldn't get it out. I hate being bothered while in the midst of a book, and if some tried to pull me away while I was reading the last few sentences of a page, I might snap at her. Lilly never does, which I think is a testament to her good nature.

So when I was dog-sitting a few weeks ago I decided that I would give Lilly all the time she wanted to Read the Street. That same .75 mile loop that usually takes 15 minutes, took us nearly an 1.5 hours, but I'm sure Lilly was satisfied with her read. I have yet to determine exactly what constitutes a page, but I like to imagine each area she sniffs as a poem that she's studying carefully so she'll remember every detail. Lilly is especially lucky to read a book that's constantly changing, and I hope to give her another chance to read it in full the next time I visit.

Audio Piece in Anomalous 3

2011-09-15T16:43:00.008-05:00

I have a piece in the latest release from Anomalous Press.

The piece is a multi-track Michael Martone interview remix,in which Martone elucidates his thoughts on becoming a writer, the purpose of MFA programs, and the nature of authorship. Despite these heady concepts, the piece clocks in at a mere one minute long.

Michael Martone is the author of many books, including his latest release Four For A Quarter. Buy the book and follow Michael's meditation on fourrays (ha!) on Twitter.

Bonus Points: Can you identify all the writers in these Four For a Quarter photos?

Book Review #15

2011-09-07T09:42:00.001-05:00

The Indifferent Stars Above: The Harrowing Saga of a Donner Party Bride by Daniel James Brown

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Do you remember playing Oregon Trail in middle school? God, I loved that game. You earned some outrageous score for completing it as a school teacher, but I think I only managed that a couple times. Beating it as a banker was a foregone conclusion. You just bought extras of everything wagon related, lots of ammo, and made your party the maximum size. Sure, Mary-Ann, Todd, and Uncle Biff were almost certain to get lost, come down with malaria, or get bit by a snake, but if you had enough people in your party you were all but guaranteed to win.

The first third of the book covers familiar territory for any one who loved Oregon Trail (or the Little House on the Prairie series). Daniel James Brown is an excellent lister. He loving describes all the supplies that each family brought, including food, and extra axles and tongues. He also described the fire arms that people would have brought, as so essentially archaic that it made me question the hunting dynamic of Oregon Trail. That was one of the most fun parts of the game, but as it turns out a good bow and arrow probably fired with more speed and accuracy.

After about the first third of the book, the book becomes misery followed by more misery with a misery cherry on top. It's Christmas: let's boil a little more buffalo hide and have a handful of nuts! It doesn't get better from there. Around page 200 there's a cliffhanger a la "but his troubles were just beginning." I nearly stopped reading right there. I mean enough is enough. But while the writing left something to be desired, the author's research was excellent. While exhausting, the content was as compelling as a suspense-thriller-horror story.

One small note: I think the title of this is pretty misleading. Okay, so I can't verify whether the stars were in fact indifferent, but the subtitle concerning the bride felt pretty irrelevant to me. It's possible the story spent a little more time on her, but mostly she just felt like one more in a fairly long list of characters.

Anyway, it all makes me wonder, with the many upgrades to Oregon Trail over the years, why did they never release a Donner party edition?

View all my reviews

Poetry Prize Finalist

2011-08-05T11:27:00.007-05:00

My poetry manuscript, "Where the Bees Are Going," was a finalist for the Marsh Hawk Press Poetry Prize.

Poems from the manuscript can be found all over the internet (as well as a smattering of other places):

To the Heart
Night Hungers
Brick Harvest

The manuscript is still being considered for a number of late-Spring and Summer contests. Obviously I hope someone picks it up. And if not I'll continue to edit, cut, and add so hopefully it will be accepted next year.

Writing on the Side, Part II

2011-08-05T07:20:00.005-05:00

I've always written. My parents have saved various artifacts of my nascent writing career. There's a story I transcribed to a teacher in preschool, and my first book, a graphic novel written and illustrated on construction paper about the adventures of Fred and his best friend, a piece of bread come to life (called "Fred and Bread"). In fifth grade I had my first taste of true inspiration. While walking on the beach I had a fragment of poetry come to me and I spent dinner with my family finishing it on a napkin.

The encouragement I got from my parents for those few lines was amazing. Over the next two years I wrote many "poems," but in truth few of them had any spark to them accept the first I wrote on the beach. Even I could tell when I started clawing at words, desperately trying and failing to make something magical happen.

In high school I started writing again. I had some genuine inspiration and when that didn't come through I just covered it with slavish homages and mimicry of Beck's lyrical style circa Mellow Gold. My freshman year I joined the high school literary journal club, a shunned circle filled with young women who wore to much black make-up and had a deep feelings about the nature of stuff. I'm only a little sorry to say that I mostly felt contempt for the student-written pieces we considered for inclusion. The final straw came when we read a submission that started like this:

My life
is like
a deep
dark pit

... it didn't get better from there. To my surprise everyone in the club praised it heartily, for it's honesty, and for getting things so right. I was flabbergasted, but when I went home and re-read the things I'd written I realized they were no better. Right then, in my sophomore year I made the determination that I was done with writing, at least until I was sure that I could avoid writing only about the deep importance of my high school angst.

The amazing thing is, I kept this resolution. From time to time an English class would offer a creative option for a project and I would take it and usually do well, but I didn't even consider it again until I was registering for my first college classes.

I was determined to be a Cognitive Science major, but Oberlin didn't have it and so I determined that I would take Neuroscience and Psychology 101, and see which was more fun. With those and an English seminar I was at 12 credits, and so I began flipping through the course catalog (when did they stop printing course catalogs?) looking for something light to slot in. My dad, who had his own copy of the catalog, said "What about Technique and Form in Poetry?"

Mid-way through my first semester in college I was already doing so disastrously bad in Neuroscience that even 100% scores for the rest of the semester would only have been good enough for me to pass with a very lenient curve. In Psychology 101 I had severely alienated myself from the department when I got into an argument with one of the professors in class where I posited that reported rates of male depression were far too low because men don't seek help for their depression and it manifests itself in different ways (now acknowledged as obvious in most psych circles). The professor then tried to tell me that women, who have so many responsibilities, not to mention ovaries, really have far more to be depressed about than men. At that point I called her an idiot. Things devolved from there.

Meanwhile the class I was loving most was Technique and Form in Poetry. Professor Martha Collins was just a little quirky and very enthusiastic. Every week we were responsible for writing at least one poem. There were couplets, haiku, sonnets, prose poetry, and many more. For individual assignments she awarded check minuses, checks, check pluses, and on a couple rare occasions, check-plus-pluses. I never received a check minus, though Martha was not a push over, on a few a occasions she gave me the check, but commented that she felt my work was weaker that weak. Every week Martha put a couple poems up on an overhead projector for the class to discuss, and I found mine poems going up nearly every other week.

About 3/4s of the way into the semester we were required to turn in a handful of poems, these inspired by the work of another poet. I knew immediately what I wanted to do. When I'd first gone to the book store for my textbooks I had browsed the poetry section. There I ran across Pablo Neruda's Book of Questions and was captivated. They didn't have it in Oberlin's library (or maybe it was checked out) and so I kept returning to the bookstore, surreptitiously making my way through it. I determined that I would write responses to the first few pages of questions. Once I got going I couldn't stop. By the time I finished I had written 50 pages of poetry.

When I got to class I threw my manuscript into the stack by the TA. Then I waited one week.

The next week when I came in Martha was waiting for me at the door of the classroom. "Come to my office after class," she said, "we need to talk." Her tone was flat. She didn't smile. That day nothing I'd written was on the overhead. Martha began the class, "I received a lot of interesting responses to this assignment. Many of you took it seriously. Some of you took it VERY seriously." I felt myself go red.

I sweated through the class and when it was over I was the first one out. I waited a healthy amount of time, enough so I was sure Martha would be in her office, and then headed over.

When I arrived she was flipping through my Answers. The pages were covered with her pen marks, some comments, but mostly check marks and a few smiley faces. I began to relax, a little. Martha turned to me and asked, "So how long have you been working on this?" When I explained that the spirits had done it all in one night, she nodded once and turned back to the pages. Then she asked another question, "What's your major?" I started to say biopychology, but Martha stopped me. "No you're not," she said, "you're a creative writing major."

Since that moment I've never doubted that I, whatever else I may do in life, am first and foremost, a writer. It's not an easy career/life choice. I've had dozens of pieces published, but I haven't yet had a manuscript accepted. I have an MFA, but an MFA is apparently no longer a terminal degree. I've scraped by the last few years with writing-related jobs that barely support me, and while I love the job I have now it's not tenure track and I don't receive benefits.

This history, and everything I wrote about in Part I came flooding back when I had a student ask a question I think about often (in the conditional past tense):

I really like writing: should I major in Creative Writing?

It was so assured, so matter of fact, that for a moment I had no idea how to answer. I often wonder, should I have majored in Creative Writing? I was interested in economics, psychology, and computer science. Surely one of those would have me in a position to be making bank now. But at the same time I know there were many things I've written, that almost certainly never would have come into being.

I hemmed and hawed, I made allusions to Wallace Stevens. Finally, I told her to double major, or if she writes on her own to join writing clubs or school lit magazines and minor in Creative Writing. I told her, despite what I chose, to keep her options open.

But not everyone can be Wallace Stevens (in fact, I'd guess only one person ever can). For me, and I think many other writers, there was no other way. I needed the mentoring and the validation to assure myself that I was making the right choice (even if I question it at times). By writing for so long, with such focus, I've steeled myself. Even if writing on the side only makes it impossible to write a few good pieces in a year. Even if I have to scrape out a living and wait years (I hope not) for one of my manuscripts to be accepted for publication, I write not for a grade, or remuneration, or even for the adulation of my peers, but because I love it and I must.

New Piece in The Nashville Review

2011-08-01T08:07:00.005-05:00

I have a piece in the current issue of the Nashville Review.

My piece, about an island with a uniquely evolved people and culture, is called To the Heart.

I'm pleased To the Heart is in the company of other provocative works. I particularly enjoyed Ben Loory's short story The Cracks in the Sidewalk and Sarah Vap's long poem excerpt Winter:aphorisms.

Book Review #14

2011-08-01T08:06:00.000-05:00

Enigmatic Pilot by Kris Saknussemm

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

In the last book I review on goodreads, The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet, I complained that I was not always convinced of the narrator's age and that he seemed just a little too precocious. The same complaint could certainly be made of the main character of Enigmatic Pilot, Lloyd Sitturd, but I'm not going to make it.

Enigmatic Pilot steers it's reader so quickly and so deeply into a strange land that his antics seem just right for the [very] pre-teen 19th-century robot-building uber-genius protagonist. While Lloyd character demanding highly-hyphenated descriptors, particularly his man-sized libido and multiple-men-sized intelligence, his mistakes as well as his innocence make his character surprisingly sympathetic.

Despite it's diminutive length Engimatic Pilot is jam-packed with mystery, adventure, magic, tragedy, and growth. I finished this book about a month ago, but I'm still turning many of the mysteries over in my head.

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Writing on the Side, Part I

2011-07-29T08:35:00.005-05:00

[Wouldn't the title be a great name for a blog/book of some sort?]

This week, after a one and a half month summer furlough, I returned to work. My time off was spent between a variety of frivolous and productive activities. I joined a book club and a writing club, I caught up on sleep, played large amounts of tennis, went to a wedding in Seattle, and of course did some writing. During my Winter furlough I had set a goal: to finish a collection of poetry. Through some dedicated attention and a last week writing-cram session I managed to complete this goal. But I didn't set that sort of goal during the summer. Instead I made an effort to tie off some loose ends, and revise. All told for a 1.5 months I wrote or revised about 6 proems into what I think is a publishable state. I think this is a pretty reasonable pace. It works out to a roughly book length collection ever 1.5 years.

I even got ambitious, and a couple weeks ago I began working jointly on a collection with a friend, Katie. Since graduating from her MFA program two years ago with a flurry of prestigious publications, Katie has admitted to me that she almost never writes. She complains that her MFA program sapped her will to write, and I understand that to some extent, but I think there's a more glaring reason: she works. And not just any work, Katie "fights the good fight," working as a Reading Specialist at a charter school specifically for "at risk" and underprivileged youth.

I had feared, because of her admitted difficulty in writing the last couple years, that Katie would control the pace of our collaboration, but it turns out I'm the one slowing things down. What happened?

Well, first I started the Hunger Games trilogy. After years of seeing it "around" and having select friends telling me that I had to read it, I picked up a cheap paperback at SEATAC and devoured it. Then, over the next 1.5 weeks I devoured the next two. By the end I felt that I needed serious time to recover. And just as I felt like I was ready to move on as both a reader and a writer, I returned to work.

Don't get me wrong: I love what I do. I'm a Writing Specialist for Northeastern's Foundation Year program and I love helping these students grow as a writers and individuals. However, at the same time, it doesn't leave much room in my head for other things. After a day of helping many different students at many different levels of writing I'm burned out. Sometimes I try to talk to my housemates at the end of the day and can barely string together a coherent sentence. The last thing I want to do is sit down and work on my own creative writing.

And so I don't. Whereas when I have nearly unlimited free time, or when I have a deadline for new writing I can finish 1-2 pieces a week, when I'm working that number plummets, leaving me at around 1-2 pieces a month (and sometimes less). It also leaves me with a special awe for the people who work hard and write hard, and a curiosity about how that breaks down. How many writers, particularly those who are getting published/successfully finding audiences of readers also have a demanding day job? Clearly a very large number of them are involved in academe, but I also wonder about course load and other responsibilities. If I were teaching 4 writing courses per semester, between preparing, teaching, conferencing, and grading I don't how I'd maintain friendships, let alone write on the side.

Fortunately I'm only co-teaching 4 classes for FY's summer session. Even so, reality and a change in my sleep patterns toward earlier waking (I must be getting old) has lead me to try something I never would have predicted 2 or even 1 year ago. I write in the morning. Or at least I have the last two mornings: I guess I'll see if I can be persistent with that or at least keep up my side of the collaboration with Katie.

[To be continued in Part II next week, if I can keep true to my new resolution]

Why Not Moleskine?

2011-06-28T10:45:00.007-05:00

Yesterday, while in the men's bathroom at the Mason Library at Keene State College I saw a few lines of grahttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifffiti thhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifat piqued my interest. I mulled it over for a little while, and later while I waited for my mother to get ready to leave her office for the day I had an idea about it I thought I could use and so I whipped out my notebook.

Later, on the way to the car, my mother asked me why I don't use moleskine notebooks. This is something I've pondered several times. They're very attractive little tools and every now and then someone gives me one as I gift, and yet I just don't enjoy using them. Here are my reasons:

1) My preference is for reporter-style notepads with spiral rings that can fit in my back pocket. The notepad I'm currently using has surface area of an index card, about 3 x 5 inches. The pocket size notebook fits the bill at 3.5 x 5.5 inches, but it's a new product that I've never seen in a store, and besides, it still suffers from the two other problems that plague all moleskine notebooks I've seen.

2) Price. I think even the Caliber notebooks I bought at CVS for $1.19 were somewhat overpriced. The moleskine notebook I've already mentioned that comes closest to meeting my needs costs $10.95. As with any other writer I have my own affectations and dreams of what I'll do once I'm a internationally bestsellhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifing poet. For instance, I've always thought it would be cool to have some fine writing utensils. My brother received more than half a dozen gold and silver Cross pens and my Dad has a Classic Montblanc rollerball, which I covet. Yes, the Montblanc has some nice heft to it, however you could by 300 effective Bic pens for the same cost. But I'm just not drawn in the same way to expensive notepads.

3) Most importantly, I need to be able to rip out pages. This is essential to my writing process and always has been since we started using blue-books for tests in school. I enjoy the visceral sensation of tearing and the catharsis that comes with crumpling a page and throwing it in the garbage. With my ringed pads it's easy. Tear out a page and it's gone, with nothing but a thin strip tangled in the rings remaining

The perfect-binding which I think is a main attraction for many moleskine users is one of it's main problems for me. I don't harbor the illusion that everything I write is a grand idea: a lot of it is utter hogwash. Yes, I could rip pages out from the binding, but there are some barriers. It's the savagery and swiftness of utter elimination that makes tearing pages out of my notebook so satisfying. With a bound notebook you have to be careful when you remove pages.

In some cases ripping out a page can mess with the binding, which in turn moves other pages. In a ringed pad, each idea and page stands on it's own individual merit. If the book binding is stronger than the individual pages you've ripped out then you're inevitably left with the frayed fragments of your disappointment. Always the book seems to fall open to those spots you've tried so hard to eliminate, little bookmarks of failed ideas.

The notebook I linked to earlier has 24 pages that are specially designed to be removable, but that makes it even worse. If I have any suspicion that what I'm writing is not good enough to remain in the notebook, I don't bother to write it down in the first place. I'd far rather that *all* the pages were removable.

Finally, I find it hard to refer to a perfectly-bound notebook as anything but a "book," and I find the idea of tearing pages out of a book beyond distasteful.

Moleskine makes beautiful objects. The covers are sturdy enough, whether you choose to go with soft or hard. The elastic enclosure is non-essential, but sort of cool. The paper is thick and creamy. The design is simple and timeless.

By contrast the notebooks I use are junk. The paper is thin and nearly transparent. They have no "class" to speak of. The rings bend when I sit on the pad in my back pocket and require adjustment to ensure it can be opened and closed.

The pages are individual, but I can easily flip through and see a year of ideas. The thin pages means that they're easy to turn into paper footballs or tiny airplanes if that's my fancy. The cardboard of the cover has been worn and rubbed till it's as soft and supple as kid leather. They hold the ideas I want to keep and make it easy to dispose of the ones I wish to be rid of, and quite simply, I love them: that's why I choose not to use moleskine notebooks.

Book Review #13

2011-06-22T16:00:00.002-05:00

The Selected Works of T. S. Spivet by Reif Larsen

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I was really excited to see this in the basement of the Brookline Booksmith for just $5. I'd seen it a few months earlier and knew the general story/hype (it's not often that an author gets a 6, let alone 7 figure deal for a book, particularly a first book).

I bought it toward the end of February and read the first 35 pages in a white-heat, captivated by the precocious narrator and his amazing "maps," both of the land, and of the habits of his family member. I particularly loved "Father Drinks Whiskey with a Sensational Degree of Regularity."

I read a few more pages, and then heavy fatigue set in. There were several reasons:

1) The 12 year old narrator is just a little too smart (and perhaps autistic). Don't get me wrong: I love novels with alienated gifted-and-talented narrators, with Hal from Infinite Jest probably taking the cake, but for some reason I just wasn't as convinced by T.S. I could never quite shake the feeling that I was reading the work of an extremely intelligent slightly older person trying to impersonate an extremely intelligent younger person. This wasn't universal throughout the book, sometimes it was totally convincing, but the gaps were disconcerting.

2) T.S.'(s) maps are great and punctuate the book like footnotes. Little arrows stemming from the text indicate to the reader that a map is relevant to a particular section, and while these are initially cute, following all of them can be fatiguing, both on the eyes, and in how they slow down the progress of the plot.

3) While there are plenty of sublime moments, at times the writing seemed to drag on. I was significantly more taken with T.S.' maps, and a part of me wishes that there had been significantly more maps, and significantly fewer words.

Ultimately, I'm torn about how to rate this book. In the program where I teach there's endless debate about how to grade pieces of writing. On the one hand, there's the technical execution crowd: an unoriginal essay may receive a higher grade than a particularly thoughtful one if it demonstrates solid follow through. I more often find myself in the camp that wishes to award higher grades to papers that may not work out perfectly, but make an original argument.

And so it is with this novel. On the one hand I feel it could have been executed better, but on the other it's such an original piece with so many bright moments that I can't help but be kinder in my assessment.

At one point the narrator speculates that true success of a book should be measured in how re-readable it is (or something to that effect). I can't quite imagine wanting to reread this book from start to finish, but over the last month or so since I've finished it I have found myself flipping through to find a particular map, and so I get the impression this is a book that is more likely to rise in my esteem than go down.

This is Reif Larsen's first book. I feel the ending left considerable avenues to continue the story of T.S. Spivet and I'd love to see a sequel in which he enters puberty and perhaps "navigates" his first romance. Regardless, Larsen is an author I'll be looking out for in the future and will, despite reservations about his first book, pounce on his second, particularly if I can find in the bargain bin for $5.

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Short Contemplation of a Short Story

2011-06-15T16:13:00.002-05:00

I give props to Anderson Holderness' short story on the Kill Author blog.

Prose Poem Project and Kill Author

2011-05-29T16:20:00.007-05:00

Two more of my pieces are available on the interwebs.

The latest, Night Hungers, can be viewed at Kill Author.

Another, Brick Harvest, is at Prose Poem Project, the fifth poem down on page 2 of the 5/26 additions.

Ubiquitous Notepad

2011-05-26T10:34:00.005-05:00

Everywhere I go I carry a pad and pen. Before I leave my apartment I slap my pockets. Front-left, phone; Front-right, keys/pen; Back-left, wallet; Back-right, pad.

I prefer gel pens, but lately I've been smitten with a liquid ink pen, that is Pilot's V5 RT. It writes incredibly smooth and the metal clip is sturdy enough so I've never broken it off in my haste to take it out of my pocket.

The pads are always small enough to fit in my back pocket, usually with a metal spiral holding the pages together. They also must be college-ruled and sturdy enough to withstand constantly being used and sat on.

The pad I'm currently using is the Caliber 80 page memo book. I really like the hard-ish plastic cover; it sort of reminds me of the Five Star notebooks that were my favorite in high school and college.

This is the third of three notepads I bought about two years ago at CVS and it has about 20 pages left. Every few weeks, or while I'm stuck waiting for the train, I do a purge. I tear out fragments that have become poems, or when I'm embarrassed I wrote down something so devoid of lyricism. The contents of the rest are as follows:

50% Writing. That is fragments and starts for poems
15% Scrabble games. Words and scores.
15% Grocery lists.
10% Research. For certain more technical poems, as well as curiosity.
5% Magic the Gathering game scores.
5% Books and websites friends have recommended to me.

Soon it will be time for me to start a new notepad. Usually I stockpile. Even though I bought three of these a couple years ago, in that time I've gone through many more pads. I like to change it up, sometimes setting aside a half-full pad in favor of a new one, only to return to the old one a year later and finish it out. But and I'm a little nervous, because I don't have one waiting in the wings. Yes, I could go to CVS online and get a lifetime supply of the one I'm using right now, but I enjoy the serendipity of going into a physical shop and finding just the right thing.

As to the title of this post, not only do I carry this notepad with me everywhere I physically go, but last night, for the first time, I carried it into the meta-physical realm when I whipped out my notepad to write down a good idea I had while I was dreaming. Now if only I could remember what I wrote!

Interviewed by Monkeybicycle

2011-05-18T08:08:00.006-05:00

Today the literary journal with arguably the finest name, Monkeybicyle has posted an interview with me about the piece 'Clockwork Dog' which appears in their latest issue.

Enjoy an excerpt here and follow the link after the break to read more about the joy of baseball, why I write prose poetry, and the gentleness of Iowa:

‘Clockwork Dog’ is built on a disparity of terms – ‘friendly
friction’ / ‘retrieving discarded’ / etc. – how important is this
discord to your poetry (or this poem)?

In poetry, and contemporary poetry in particular, I think that the
pairing of disparate words and contrasting language is a common
strategy. The goal, I’m pretty sure is to be evocative, but often it
results in obfuscation. You could say the same about the very title
and subject of this poem. I understand that an initial reaction may
be something along the lines of, what the hell is a “clockwork dog”
anyway? Well, I don’t want my reader surrounded by a jangle of words,
so while the exact form of the dog is left to the reader, by the end
they have an idea of this dog’s motivations, and I think would agree
that he is a “good dog.” So rather than discord, in this and other
pieces I work to create chords from unlikely notes.http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

There is also an aggressive use of range in this piece –
running the reader from a ‘tornado’ to a ‘merry-go-round’ – can you
talk to us about what you hope this scaled-variation will do to
readers?

Simply, the range makes the poem livelier and more engaging. The
reader has the opportunity to fit their own rotations and clocks
somewhere between bottle caps and planets, and make their own personal
connections to time with the Clockwork Dog as a guide. . .

For the full interview visit the Monkeybicycle blog

The Uterus Fiasco

2011-05-05T11:05:00.004-05:00

I haven't uttered a more hilarious phrase (recently) than the title of this post.

The Huffington Post has the comprehensive story, but really it's fairly simple. Representative Scott Randolph, D-Orlando, used the word "uterus" on the House floor, and was then reprimanded for referencing body parts, and later another GOP spokesperson suggested that "uterus" is "inappropriate for children."

To me, deeming "uterus" an inappropriate word borders on misogyny. While that's a broad problem, I an think of one way for politicians to realize how ridiculous it is to get wrapped up around a word, and because it's clear the primarily-male House of Representative is more comfortable with their own reproductive organs, I call on the House to engage in a bipartisan competition of "the penis game" to demonstrate just has silly it is to get hung up on body parts.

. . . Also, I wonder if "uterus" is in the Word Mole word list.

Book Review #12

2011-04-27T15:32:00.001-05:00

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Though I loved many of the Newberry Medal winning books as I child, it's been years since I read a new one. If you're the same, let me whole-heartedly recommend The Graveyard Book as a re-entry point into the world of childrens' literature.

Simply, this is a beautiful little book. Gaiman takes the question, "what would it be like for a child to grow up in a cemetery?" and tells the story of a loving community, that despite it's obvious idiosyncrasies, feels surprisingly true, and nearly normal. The most compelling aspect of the book is the main character, Bod, short for "Nobody."

In books like Neverwhere, Stardust, and American Gods, Gaiman describes the growth of males from stunted adolescents to manhood. Unlike the males in those books, Bod's journey isn't strictly heroic, instead he grows through thought and exploration. He is a solemn, sympathetic, and inquisitive boy that I think many men could learn from.

My one quibble is with the adversary. The villainy was far more hollow and arbitrary than in other Gaiman works. In style and vague suspense they hark most to Croup and Vandemar from Neverwhere, but whereas C&Vs' relative lack of origins makes them even more chilling, with "the Jacks" I feel the opposite affect. Over the course of the book we learn that "the Jacks" are an ancient brotherhood of ne'er-do-wells, but the roots or purpose of their work is just a bit too ephemeral to me. "The Jacks" are tools, but to what end? Gaiman tells a hauntingly beautiful story about a boy growing up in a cemetery and for me that's enough. At times "the Jacks" were compelling (like when there were knives or history involved), but really they were too vague a menace to feel like a fully realized and necessary part of the book.

But leaving aside that aside, I wish there was more. I could have easily and happily spent another 100 pages watching Bod grow up, or finding out the truth (or more of the truth) about Silas. Gaiman has said that he hasn't rule out returning to this world, and I'd love to read a story about Bod's experience in the world beyond the graveyard.

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Why I Will Never Have Six-Pack Abs

2011-04-10T13:09:00.003-05:00

... Parker's Maple Barn Fried Cinnamon French Toast, with butter and maple syrup.

Book Review # 11

2011-03-16T12:06:00.000-05:00

The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Never, even while I was waiting for the final books in Stephen King's Dark Tower series, have a I yearned more for the release of a book as much as this one. As time, and various release dates passed I grew nervous. What if The Wise Man's Fear was perfect before Rothfuss began to tinker? What if he added 100,000 unnecessary words?

I can happily report that was not the case. All the things I loved in the first book were continued and in some cases improved in the second book.

I have one, very small complaint, which is that I didn't find the writing/action in the first 200 pages nearly as compelling as the the latter half of the book, however I'd happily read another 200 of the same quality just to get to spend more time in the world Rothfuss has created.

I can only hope that the third and final book of the series comes out in less than three years, and that Rothfuss continues to write many more fine words.

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Hanky PANKy

2011-02-28T13:37:00.004-06:00

Check out the review of PANK's latest issue at The Review Review. My poem, Stampede at the Premium Outlets, is featured as one of the "inviting titles" (and there are many others)in the Table of Contents.

More of my poems in (or is it "at"?) PANK Online.

Scrabble Dick-tionary

2011-02-16T10:58:00.003-06:00

Fellatio is in the Scrabble Dictionary, but Cunnilingus is not.

Death of a Corpse

2011-02-15T15:16:00.007-06:00

Exquisite Corpse, one of the first journals I ever submitted writing to, is dead. A friend had just given me one of Andrei Codrescu books and I was eager to see more things he was associated with (though I kept messing up his name, and still do). Plus, I had just completed a course on experimental poetry. When I searched for "exquisite corpse," it was the first site to come up. It was hip. Far hipper than me, and I instantly sent them something. I never received a response: I wasn't even put in the "body bag," a section of the journal for pieces that for whatever hazy reason did not make it into the main pages.

In 2008 the submission page was changed and this announcement added:

We will not accept submissions until May 2009. We have not lost our optimism! We just ran out of time! And we are drowning in text! From now on we'll only read checks!

I checked back in periodically, but it never changed. Now the submission page is the same, with the addition of "dead dead dead" scrawled across the whole page in digital blood.

To be fair, EQ died years ago, maybe as soon as they closed submissions in 2009. But I wonder why. Earlier today I was looking at Double Room, the journal of prose poetry and flash fiction. Like Exquisite Corpse I submitted to it a few years ago, and like Exquisite Corpse, this journal has been languishing since 2009.

It seems a real shame to me, especially for an e-journal, for whom the cost of printing and posting isn't an issue, that journals should go gently or totally silently into the digital night. Could Andrei Codrescu or Mark Tursi not have found some young and eager writer/editor to take over editorially responsibilities for their site if they no longer have the time/inclination/money?

Book Review #10

2011-02-10T15:47:00.001-06:00

The Final Solution: A Story of Detection by Michael Chabon

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is Chabon's first book after Kavalier and Clay (I'm not counting Summerland; I mean The Final Solution was his first book of merit). The Final Solution is a slight volume, but I don't think it's a slight work. In some respects it reads like an erudite young adult book. The language is mostly simple and direct. The conceit of the main character is amusing, and the boy and his parrot are provocative ciphers. The actual mystery isn't quite as interesting as I would have hoped, but the mystery really serves as a foil for the characters and their relationships. Ultimately, this book is plenty worth the 2 hours it will take you to read it.

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Self-Promotion #4 - The Seasons

2011-02-07T15:58:00.003-06:00

I have a piece in the latest issue of Zine Scene's The Reprint.
This piece originally appeared in Subtropics and was my first publication in a print journal.

Stay tuned later this week as I unpack my 2011 AWP conference swag bags!

Swag[ger] Store Bag Boy

2011-02-07T15:28:00.003-06:00

For many conference attendees, the bookfair is the most important part of each AWP conference. With well over 500 tables and writing organizations at the fair, presenters need to go the distance in order to attract interest, and having a friendly personality and great writing in your journal may not be enough.

In essence, the bookfair is trick-or-treating for writers. I almost wished I'd brought a pillowcase for all the pins, magnets, sample issues, candy, and other bits of swag I collected. This year's trends include the usual bookmarks and pens along with a strange uptick in fortune cookies. Feast your eyes on this photo of consolidated swag:

Later this week I'll fulling unpacking my swag in a followup to my swag posts from the 2009 AWP conference in Chicago.

Word Mole for Blackberry

2011-01-27T17:58:00.004-06:00

Nearly two years ago I was addicted to the game Word Challenge on Facebook. However, eventually I had to stop. Word Challenge word list was disappointingly, and inconsistently prude and also had questionable "words" on their list. I became frustrated and stopped. I'm reaching a similar point now with Word Mole for my Blackberry.

It's the only game I have on my phone, and after a year of not bothering to even try it, over the last week I've been playing it as constantly as my phone will allow (it's a horrible drain on the phone's battery. Like Word Challenge, Word Mole has done a little censoring. For instance, you can't make the word "fuck." But then there are other words that are mysteriously not on the Word Mole list, like fanged, snivel, and puce. This is especially frustrating when you're just a few points away from making it to the next level, or seconds from the game being over, only to discover that a perfectly good word like prattled isn't accepted. It's almost enough to make me want to quit playing, however my curiosity has been piqued. While I still yearn for an amazing score, I'm far more interested in seeing which words somehow didn't make the cut.

The following is a list of words that Word Mole doesn't accept (and I'm sure I'll find many more).

Hewn
Prattled
Roil
Peed
Cud
Pip
Shim
Twist
Quire
Dun
Fisted
Glam
Piddle
Linty
Fuck
Caul
Puce
Pock
Fanged
Toke
Toked
Snivel
Sot
Ibex
Minty
Ribaldry
Tusk
Scrotum
Snivel
Fatted

The League of Extraordinary Sneezers

2011-01-18T09:44:00.006-06:00

The Highstakes World of Competitive Sneezing

The wikipedia entry for sneeze has this to say under epidemiology:

The speed of human sternal release has been the source of much speculation, with the most conservative estimates placing it around 150 kilometers/hour (42 meters/second) or roughly 95 mph (135 feet/second), and the highest estimates -such as the JFK Health World Museum in Barrington, Illinois- which propose a speed as fast as 85% of the speed of sound, corresponding to approximately 1045 kilometers per hour (290 meters/second) or roughly 650 mph (950 feet/second).

On a relative scale of sneezing I feel that mine have a surprising amount of force behind them. Plenty of people have small, mousy sneezes. The muscles of their face barely engage, it's more like a weak nasal hiccup. A strong sneeze can contract a surprising number of muscles: the face, neck, abdominal, lower-back, and even sphincter.

While over the last 24 hours I've transitioned to my usual winter sport (wheezy coughing), in the days preceding this one I feel I have taken my sneezing to glorious new heights. At last I feel I am a true athlete of the sneeze; a finely tuned sneezing machine. From the moment the tingling begins in my nasal cavity my muscles from the waist up go on high alert, ready. You have to be careful not tense your muscles or attempt to stifle the sneeze. This can lead to popping a blood vessel, involuntary urination, or it could even force air into the eustachian tube causing a rupture of the eardrum. You can also pull muscles that are unused to the fast-twitch fiber contraction. To prevent abdominal strains due to sneezing you may want to do planks or a few fast sets of situps every other day, along with several minutes of stretching, so your muscles will always have the strength and elasticity necessary to get the job done.

But, while I feel ready to join the high stakes world of competitive sneezing, there are still some barriers to forming this league. First we need to develop judging criteria. For instance, judges might give style points on a scale of 1-10 for the categories facial expression and audio. But those are both subjective measures, and I believe far more weight should be placed on objective sneeze accomplishments. In particular, the force or speed of the sneeze. However, first the league would need determine a measuring method. Here are a few I'm considering:

1) A speed gun, like those used by highway patrol or baseball scouts.
Pros: Intuitive design
Cons: The particulates that make up a sneeze may not be large enough to register.

2) High-speed camera images of sneeze particulate against a backdrop
Pros: Tried and True.
Cons: The website explaining this technique is a distressing red color.

3)Portable Doppler or Wind Meter
Pros: Fancy, high-tech sounding.
Cons: Does portable doppler even exist? Also, wind meters may not be able register the fastest sneeze, or the volume of the sneeze may be too low to measure.

Hundredth

2011-01-04T14:21:00.001-06:00

Book Review #9

2010-12-30T10:54:00.001-06:00

Under the Dome by Stephen King

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This is the first new Stephen King I've read since he completed his Dark Tower series, at which point I thought he was going to retire, and then we he didn't, I sort of retired him on my own. But I needed a page turner to open my winter break with and I remembered that some reviews were heralding this as "vintage" King, so I picked it up.

Let's be totally clear: Stephen King phoned it in for this book. None of the characters feel especially loved or fleshed out and they, along with several of the story threads feel like amalgamates of better, King books. Needful Things and Salem's Lot both come to mind. But to be fair, the situation is driving the book, not the characters. The main thread under the dome is an extreme rendition of the Stanford Prison Experiment: it's not so surprising, but it's very compelling.

What disappointed me most about the book was it's lack of a grand architecture. Stephen King's last book to top 1000 pages was The Stand in 1990. The Stand had the benefit of both a compelling situation and plenty of fascinating heroes and anti-heroes. Plus, it had a place in the over-arching mythology of The Dark Tower series, King's "uber-novel." The Stand is a masterpiece. UTD is a lark.

While it may not live up to the standard set by his past novels, it is King's most compulsive page turner since Wizard and Glass, and his most visceral horror novel since Desperation/The Regulators.

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A Library Dream

2010-12-17T15:30:00.001-06:00

I have a reoccurring dream in which I’m at the Copley site of the Boston Public Library browsing books. I rarely go to the library with a book in mind, instead I browse until I think of something I need to read. Meanwhile I’m also watching a beautiful young woman who is doing the same.

Like when I’m shopping for clothes, I always feel the need to run my hands over every book that even briefly catches my attention.

At last I think of one I’d like to read and head slowly towards its shelf. From the opposite direction, so does the beautiful young woman. At last we meet, our fingers touching the spine of the very same book. We smile at each other, but because this is a library, neither of us speaks.

Book Review #8

2010-12-07T23:03:00.000-06:00

Little, Big by John Crowley

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

My feelings about this book are deeply conflicted

For the first 260 or so pages I had difficulty reading this book. It had elements I liked: fantasy, mythology, realism, and a little magic (but not so much that it unfairly dominates). But at the same time it was excruciating. Long descriptions of muddled musings, excruciatingly oblique foreshadowing. I planned the biting 2 or perhaps 3 star review I would give, ultimately comparing it to Gormenghast. Like that one, this book broods. A great deal more happens than in Gormenghast, however the mood and attention to atmosphere feels far more important than anything that's happening to the characters, or that constitutes a plot.

The first 200+ pages were a struggle to read. I tried everything. I brought to work. I read an interlude on the T. I put it on my night side table, and then in the bathroom, trying to find the right setting, the right space, and maybe temperature to settle in. But I couldn't find it

I noticed the change around the start of "Book Four: The Wild Wood," though I'm sure it started a little before that. Gradually things started to happen that seemed to matter. Whereas the beginning of the book seems most concerned with the reader's understanding of a bizarrely complex architecture and genealogy [I kept returning to Grady Tripp in Wonder Boys, who writes 1000s of pages of a never ending novel and, for one chapter, writes only of the bloodlines of horses], the center of the book is a story of love and loss, which is simultaneously the same story you've read/experienced before, but with a special newness. There are many other stories interwoven, but for me this was the most important story, in fact, really the only story I cared about it.

And, while it's still excruciating and oblique at times, once the the machinery was set in motion the book moved much faster, and I even came to understand that without those first 200+ pages I would not have had the necessary pieces and momentum for book to ever reach a satisfying conclusion.

When I was a little boy I used to go across the street to where my 2nd grade teacher, Ms. Heemstra, lived with her cat, Radar. She and her cat were both very tolerant of the curiosity of little boys, they even encouraged it. Whenever I went I asked her to show me her cuckoo clock. She would dutifully wind it so that after a minute's wait the bird would pop out. I was very excited, while Radar was disinterested. Over time I came to have an understanding of how the clock worked. I realized that it was "clockwork," some intricate machinery, and not magic which propelled the bird forward for my amusement. But to me it was as good as magic. The older you become, the more you learn, the more things lose this sort of magic. But of course at the same time, other things gain it.

As I read this book I was continuously torn by two conflicting impulses: the desire for more magic and the desire for magic-less clarity. In a lesser a book I'd say this is a major flaw, but I think this conflict forms the heart of, and maybe genius, of Little, Big. In the presence of one, we want the other, but in fact in order for our stories to matter they need to marry both, and I think this book accomplishes this feat.

However, as with Ms. Heemstra's cuckoo-clock I tend to prefer smaller machinery, and I can certainly think of stories (for instance: "Vanishing Acts," by Kelly Link) that make me aware of the same things without requiring over 200 pages of winding.

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Scrabble Mania - part I

2010-12-07T12:57:00.007-06:00

GAME 1.

Dash: 119, Ori: 212, Gage: 224.

Gage was in it to win it, making double digit point plays on all but one turn. Ori had the highest single play of the game with La/Fax/Ore/Axed for 55 points, however, when Rick played clean/it, he opened up the triple word score to Gage, who was "ice" cold on the way to his win.

Game 2.

The Jew a.k.a. Gage Norris: 222, Dr. King a.k.a. Frederick Dashiell: 114, The Laser a.k.a. Ori Fienberg: 242. The Jew put everyone in check when he played Queen for 48 points, but The Laser made it mate with Vibe/Cape.

GAME 3.

Freaknizzle a.k.a. Rick, Razor a.k.a. Ori, Sonic a.k.a. Damian.

Sadly, Freaknizzle had to bow out after his seventh play, doom. Sonic fought valiantly, but a combination of bad letters, and perhaps some anxiety about his impending (hopefully not doom) Math final exam kept him from really getting the ball rolling. The Razor took it with a score of 274 to 111.

Stay Tune For More Highly Competitive Scrabble Match Ups As The Foundation Year Writing Workshops Wind Down For The Year!

An Elegant Dinner

2010-12-03T22:04:00.002-06:00

Pan-seared Calves Liver and Fig Balsamic Caramelized Onions, Shiitake Mushroom and Meyer Lemon Carolina Brown Rice, with Lightly Earl Gray Scented Green Beans.

Then: Hershey Kisses Filled with Caramel. Someday I'll learn how to make dessert.

Book Review #7

2010-11-24T11:44:00.001-06:00

Prayers for the Assassin by Robert Ferrigno

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This book has a lot going for it. The fight scenes in this are peerless. I was taken back to the olden days when I used to read and then reread R.A. Salvatore books featuring Drizzt Do'Urden. In fact, I'm not 100% certain that Rakim Epps isn't really Drizzt (more on that later).

Also, though it's a bit odd, I learned a fair amount about the Muslim religion and traditional observances. It's a stew of modern and fundamentalist practices and really makes me feel like I should find an actual book about it, rather than a suspense-thriller, or wikipedia. Any suggestions?

Before you can read this book you must first suspend your disbelief. If you even read the back cover then you'll know it's necessary, and I read mostly fantasy, sci-fi, and educational theory so I'm used to it. Even so, I had a lot of difficulty. It took me till about 1/3 of the way through before I felt like Ferrigno had been able to create a world I could believe in, at least enough to enjoy the book.

Otherwise two glaring flaws prevent me from giving this book more than 3 stars. First, Ferrigno delivers characters background stories by forcing the main character to have long "remember when" conversations with each character. Really, I'm not sure how one goes about fleshing out a character's past without it feeling awkward. However, I think in mysteries such as this one a lot of that background is really unnecessary. The main character is a "shadow warrior," I'd almost prefer for his past to be a little more murky.

The second flaw draws me back to Drizzt Do'Urden. Rakim Epps' nemesis is another Feyadeen, this one an assassin. He's a pretty great character, and nearly Epps' opposite. A great Artemis Entreri character. But does their rivalry live up to that example? Sadly, no.

This book was a command performance. I gave another friend The Name of the Wind, and he gave me this. This was an entertaining read, and while I don't feel compelled to read any more of this series, if I were at an airport and need something, I'd certainly return to Ferrigno's series, at least if I couldn't find another book promising the death of Nazis and treasure.

View all my reviews

Phreelance Writers Forum - Love Letters

2010-11-17T15:29:00.004-06:00

Last weekend I organized a drawer in my bureau that I’ve been using as a memory dump for many years now. Special finds include identification cards from 6 years of schooling, ticket stubs from every high school dance, and a sealed, unused condom, expired in 2002, which I think must have been from the first package I ever bought.

But the artifacts I was most excited to uncover were bundles of love letters. The first I ever received was written by my kindergarten-sweetheart after I moved from Mississippi to Massachusetts. The envelope is bordered in tiny hand drawn red hearts and they replace the dots on each “i”. The last batch was written to me at a writing residency where in order to encourage artistic isolation, the proprietors did not provide internet or phone access.

Every few years for the last 20 years some philosopher, writer, or technophile feels the need to proclaim that print media is dead and will soon be supplanted by digital media. Print media endures because people enjoy books not just as ideas, but as objects. Someday convenience and price may put an end to the print era; however, I hope we never reach the same point with love letters. Love and writing
love letters should never be matters of convenience. The extra effort helps makes love letters special.

But even if a lover were also a digital designer and took the time to craft a compelling digital billet-doux, it still wouldn’t compare. You can’t touch an e-mail knowing that your lover touched it. An e-mail will never be S.W.A.K. (sealed with a kiss). An e-mail cannot carry the scent of your lover. And on the darker side, if a lover spurns or betrays you, you can delete the e-mail, but that’s a cold and empty gesture, whereas burning a stack of love letters can be
extremely satisfying and at least pays suitable tribute to the passion the relationship inspired.

Check out more opinions and discussion of love letters in today's Phreelance Writers Forum.

Madness Much - Artifice Release Reading (Boston)

2010-10-12T15:41:00.003-05:00

Join Artifice Magazine at the Boston stop of the MADNESS MUCH: THE ISSUE 2 RELEASE TOUR.

Date and Time:
Saturday, October 16 · 5:30pm - 7:30pm

Location:
The Enormous Room
569 Massachusetts Avenue
Cambridge, MA
Created By

Readings by:

Elisa Gabbert
Ori Fienberg
Jeremy Bushnell
Andrew Farkas
M. Kitchell
...and others!

Get Out the Vote

2010-10-12T15:10:00.006-05:00

Something strange is going on here:

We are being invited to vote for the winner of the Roberto Clemente Award, an award to the ball player who’s the most charitable, or philanthropic, or engaged in their community. Entering gives the voter a chance to go to the 2010 World Series, and what's not to like about that?

Well, first of all, the interface is cruddy. The only pictures are of the ballplayer. In order to see each player’s community service, you must first select them, which flips over their picture so you can read three sentences about the player’s deeds.

What? No media? Really? The site is basically designed for a quick popularity contest, and while that's as good a way as any to pick players for the all-star game, for a community service award it feels a bit weak. There’s really nothing about the charities and programs that the ball players are associated with. No video. No pictures. No quotes. No numbers. Seriously. Is anyone actually going through and reading about these? There’s not even a link to the organizations they support.

Meanwhile, Chevrolet isn't doing much to encourage a meaningful vote. The website encourages you to "Vote for your favorite player," not to "Carefully examine the off-the-field contributions of each player and decide who best emulates the selfless contributions made by Roberto Clemente and other baseball-humanitarians.

Really, there's nothing wrong with the public getting to vote for the Roberto Clemente Award , but if you're going to hand the decision over to the fans, at least make sure they have the information they need to make an educated decision.

Misadventures in Adcopy #5 - Special "News" Edition

2010-09-15T10:09:00.006-05:00

Metro is a free, daily newspaper distributed along the public transit lines of several major metropolis. Since last year they've been engaged in a blitz marketing campaign for a company called Acushakti, which has taken all of the health benefits of a bed of nails, and mass produced it in plastic. They've had weekly ads, including several full pages, and one day when Metro had the front and back cover printed to look like an Acushakti mat. Honestly, I thought that was a nifty marketing ploy.

But what's not nifty, in fact is unacceptable, are the articles that Metro has published about Acushakti. I’ve seen three in the mywellbeing section since December, and while I know Metro isn’t the gold standard in journalistic excellence and integrity (I can’t seem to find Metro’s Journalistic Code of Ethics), the About section of their website states, “colorful features are presented without any bias.” I’m disappointed that Metro can’t recognize the inherent bias of using articles to promote one of their advertisers.

The New York Times, which does have an accessible ethical code, calls these “advertorials.” And what’s the news being reported in today's article entitled Study: Nail mats 'do tackle muscle pain'? According to one of the doctors cited in the article, Dr. Anette Kjellgren, “additional pain (from the mat) filters out the competing pain.”

Yeah, I know, like how whenever I have a toothache I’ve found that being punched, hard, in the nose, makes me barely care about the toothache. Leaving aside the conflict of interest, or the somewhat simplistic results of the study, since when is an unpublished “scientific” study newsworthy?

When the value of spike mats for pain reduction is confirmed in a study published in a peer reviewed journal, that might be news, at least for another newspaper that hasn’t sold been running full page and larger Acushakti ads for months.

I can't believe my eyes...

2010-09-13T14:57:00.007-05:00

Today the fine gentlemen who post daily for Phreelance Writers and I went down to Hawkins Street in Boston to fill out paperwork for our job as Writing Consultants (read:Contractors) for Northeastern University's Foundation Year program. See if you can find the direction on the M-4 form (pdf) that seemed just a little off-kilter to me:

Book Review #6

2010-09-08T12:59:00.000-05:00

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

When I was a little boy I often asked my parents to tell me bedtime stories. My favorite was a series by mother called, "Sam and Jackson Monkey." Sam and Jackson Monkey were monkey-brothers who loved peanut butter and bananas on toast, just like me.

I haven't told many people about my mother's stories for a couple of reasons, but the most important is that I felt ownership over those stories. They were created just for me, and they represent something so good that I've wanted to keep them sacred and protect them. Simply, they were too perfect to share.

I feel that this is the only possible reason someone has not recommend this book to me until just a few weeks ago, five years after its publication. I think every reader must be a little scared that something so good exists and they must also feel that same fear to share, the feeling that this novel had been written just for them.

Simply put Jonathan Safran Foer has crafted an utter masterpiece, filled with love, anguish, beautiful stories, characters, and interesting experiments. It is the best art I have seen come out of the tragedy that occurred on September 11, 2001. It is nearly modern fantasy, and yet it rings miraculously true. It is an affirmation of the power of life, imagination, family, and writing in the most difficult of times. It is easily the greatest novel I have read published in the last ten years.

Part of me wants to clutch it to myself and not admit to anyone that I know it's out there. Of course it's a bestseller and many people have read it, but it's so deeply intimate that I feel as though it were written just for me.

But it's just too good. If you follow my reviews on Goodreads you know that they're infrequent. I read on average a few books a month, but I rarely feel compelled to review them unless they are very good or disappointing. This book is not very good, it is the best, and if you take one of my recommendations, this should be it.

It may not immediately become one of your favorite books, but I'm certain you'll have a thoughtful read with moments and ideas that will resonate for a long while.

View all my reviews

Endangered Internet Species

2010-08-25T15:29:00.010-05:00

Who here remembers the Google Whack? There are many variations on the Google Whack, but the way I've always played is that you must enter two words, no proper nouns, without quotes, into the google search engine producing a search with 1 google hit. That's the purist form. Other variants allow proper nouns, and in another, the goal is to get as many hits as there are characters in the two words.

At its onset the Google Whack was an extremely rare phenomena, but you could do it, if you knew a handful of obscure words and some chemistry terms. But like the unicorn, the Google Whack is and was an endangered species. Sites emerged that collected them, and news outlets did stories on them, but of course once they were recorded that Whack ceased to exist. Other websites emerged that seemed to simply catalog vast swatches of words. Google Whacks are a web phenomena that may soon be extinct. If it's not already. I haven't thought about them in a while. In fact, the last I found was a few years ago. On 8/3/06 I found this gem:

popsicle triskaidecagon

The same google search today yields 19 hits. This is compared to

Methuselah bobbysocks

(yes, I know I broke my own rule and used a proper-noun) which was once a Google Whack and now inexplicably yields 448 Google hits.

Googlewhacks.com has what they claim to be an up-to-the-minute and unindexed Whack List, and yet I've tested several of them and not one of those supposedly fresh whacks is even below the century club, several have more than 1000 hits.

... Anyway, yesterday I was using Google image search to find illustrations of emotive monkeys. There are plenty of enraged, happy, sad, and even "sarcastic monkey" (with quotes in the search) yields 400 hits. But a search for "sardonic monkey" yielded a singular hit (not even of a monkey), it's own sort of Google Whack.

Honestly, I'm surprised, I suspected by now monkeys and monkey illustrators would have uploaded images with titles covering all possible monkey attitudes. However, without the quotes sardonic monkey yields over 10,000 hits.

If you're hunting a Google Whack I've found in the past that you should

1) avoid words that could be near each other in the dictionary
2) avoid common favorite words like defenestrate
3) pair two words from two radically different highly technical professions
4) pair something innocuous with a highly technical term
5) pair a word no longer in common usage with a highly technical term

Can you find any Google Whacks, traditional, or your own variation?

If you find a true google whack you can post it in the comment section with dashes between the letters so as to preserve the thrill for future Whackers. Honorable mentions for single digit returns, or for bizarre word combos that return far more hits than expected.

Happy Hunting!

FJELLSE

2010-08-24T10:58:00.008-05:00

Last night my flatmate Eric and I went to the IKEA in Stoughton, MA. Several months ago we made a similar trip in the middle of the day. It was the first time I'd been to an IKEA store since we went to one in Philadelphia for my brother who was in college. I remember it being fun and exciting, with lots of people and bright colors. I might have even eaten a swedish meatball, but that's probably a fantasy. it's far more likely that I experienced an even more intense disorientation than I did when I went with Eric months ago.

We didn't really have a plan, and maybe that was the problem. We were both interested in upgrading our bedrooms. Eric had made a couple of trips to IKEA already, but wanted a desk and bureau other than the somewhat industrial chrome and wire ensemble he had been using. I'd been sleeping on a mattress on the floor since I moved in and doing my writing at a rickety coffee table while seated on one of those camping chairs that can collapse into a tube. Not ideal.

But when we got to IKEA we were, surprise-surprise, overwhelmed. We wandered aimlessly through the kitchen appliances, wishing our landlord would feel compelled to upgrade. We shuddered at the feel of the synthetic-lambskin throws. We pondered various beds and desks, ultimately realizing that we had taken no measurements before we left home. In the end the only purchases we made were at the IKEA grocery store, where I just barely resisted buying the "Prawn Cheese Spread."

Instead I bought a six pack of frozen Swedish Princess Cakes, which Eric and I wolfed down on the car ride home. They were good frozen. Like a novelty ice cream.

--That was months ago. Last week Eric's mother was in town and she took him on an IKEA shopping spree. One of the bureau's he wanted wasn't in stock, so he got a giftcard and that's why last night after making the necessary measurements, we returned to IKEA.

Even at 8:30 p.m., half an hour before closing time, the parking lot was still filled with dozens of cars. We went inside and browsed idly for a while, but we both knew what we were getting and so around 8:50 we headed down to the warehouse to get our boxes. Then with an announcement that the store would soon be closing the 8:55 migration began.

The checkout aisles were clogged with people with carts of nondescript boxes. Eric and I listened pretty closely and I think we may have been the only native English speakers there. Truly, IKEA brings together an international shopping community.

CODA

As is so often the case, I found myself thinking about the impending zombie apocalypse. What would you do if you were in an IKEA?

And on the heels of that, has anyone ever been snowed in at an IKEA? Do they have backup generators in case of power outage? I can just imagine hundreds of people getting free meatballs (or rib roast if it's a Wednesday!) and then curling up to sleep in the IKEA demo beds.

Misadventures in Ad-copy #4

2010-07-08T13:32:00.005-05:00

The latest misadventure comes from generic products, in particular this cereal, conveniently located next to Chex at Market Basket.

I suppose this is nominally better than some other options. They probably crossed out "Square Shaped Ground Corn Product" and "Puppy Chow Base Material." True, in the context of the cereal aisle it's clear what this product is, and I'm sure the sparse, possibly even terse name is all that's needed there. But out of context it doesn't quite get the message across. If someone asked me to "pick up some square shaped corn," I'd probably spend most of my time looking for it in the produce aisle. "Square Shaped Corn" lacks inspiration, unless the name is meant to be comically direct. But this feels like a missed opportunity. Dr. Pepper has spawned hoards of impostors who no doubt earned their advanced degrees at an online University. My favorite amongst them is Walmart's resident M.D., Dr. Thunder. If you want to find out about other doctors near you, take a look at Frenchboxing's website.

Unfortunately, I didn't have time to check out the other offerings so I don't know if they also carry my personal favorite, Toroidal Oats.

Timeout Boston

2010-06-09T10:07:00.003-05:00

Faces in the Crowd

2010-06-04T10:17:00.001-05:00

Less Popular Games for XBox

2010-05-08T11:42:00.002-05:00

When you need to relieve stress try out this "game."

Magic and monkeys. I defy you to find a better combination.

Are you extreme enough for Baby Maker Extreme?

Almost certainly not.

Boil that Dirty Water...

2010-05-01T17:27:00.003-05:00

Dirty Water by The Standells

But seriously, a boil-water order is in effect for 38 Massachusetts communities including Boston.

MA Declares State of Emergency

Run On Water Clears Shelves

Water Break Affects 2 Million

War of Words

2010-04-20T18:15:00.006-05:00

On April 19th the Tea Party Express passed through Boston spreading its message of goodwill and basic rights for all humans.

Just kidding. Here are a selection of slogans on signs (some may have been made by counter-protesters; I'll let you be the judge) and things said by presenters on stage.

On Stage: I don't think George Washington ever used the f-word!

On a sign: I'm white, I'm racist, and I'm proud.

On stage: Then I saw Sarah Palin and it was the most exciting day of my life since I had my child.

On stage: Everybody say it now: There's a communist sitting in the White House!

On stage: Vote them out!

On stage: Women, I have three questions for you: do you love god, do you love your family, do you love our country?

On a sign: Socialism, you would've gotten away with it too if it weren't for us meddling kids.

On stage: You won't find policy in my book, but you will find scripture.

On stage: You didn't expect this did you: a rapper with his pants pulled up.

On a sign: Green Coalition of Gay Loggers for Jesus.

On stage: This is the 2nd revolution!

On a sign: Vote for Lemon Party at lemonparty.com

On a sign: Fidel Castro says he like ObamaCare: Is this the right direct for America?

On the stage, with 10 minutes before the end of the rally: Are you guys ready for a raffle? You want to win some prizes?!?

Meanwhile, it was a beautiful day:

The lifespan of a poem

2010-03-28T07:48:00.006-05:00

I had poems in the February edition of Pank Online. In "Facts About Marsupials," I take a stab at answering where poems begin. A couple of weeks ago J. Bradley, author of Dodging Traffic, interviewed me for PANK. He asked me where poems go when they die.

It's curious: there was a stage in my life where I was worried about where I'd go when I died. That stage has mostly passed. I don't know where, but it's less interesting to me than where I'll go while I live.

However, the life cycle of poetry is now very important to me. First there's the unpredictable gestation period. The poet can carry the first cells of a poem in them for years before they even know it's there. Then the actually birth may take a few minutes to several months.

Just a few back and forth talks and eventually the poems are sent out into the world to find a home. For the most part they become tempered by repeated rejection. When sent by mail they almost always return to the poet, who then must look them over for defects before sending them right back into the fray.

Hopefully, finally, the poem is accepted into the dormitory like pages of a literary journal. So many different poems, so many different types of writing. The poet can only hope that the poem is accepted by the other poems and by the other poets. Then, for a long time the poem remains in that one place. Very, very rarely it gets invited to hang out with other poems, in another place. Usually this happens within it's first year of life out of the poet's home. Other times the poem eventually finds a place to live with its relatives.

It's a strange life, and of course there's more to it than that.

If you're interested in where poems go when they die, or what the world would be like without typos, check out my interview over at the PANK blog. If you like it, if you makes you think of anything, leave a comment.

If you're not interested, sign up here. We have a gang of dinosaurs to kill.

South Roxbury Living

2010-03-20T11:17:00.006-05:00

When I wake up in the morning it's unlikely that I will eat breakfast. But if I don't eat breakfast I'm bound for 10:30 a.m. crash at work. Over the years I've experimented with various "fast" breakfast options.

Pop Tarts would be the obvious, economical option, but one summer many years ago, my camp bought a full truckload of pop tarts. In the past pop tarts had been a treat, processed food reserved as a special treat for afternoon nosh, or as prizes for camp games, but that summer we were offered pop tarts at every meal. Quickly I came to understand pop tarts for what they really were: packing peanuts reprocessed into crumbly rectangles with a layer of sweet,non-adhesive glue barely bonding them together, and a brittle layer of sugar glass on top. Plus, even with fortification I'm pretty sure they have less nutritional value than a spoonful of potting soil.

Pop tarts were not an option.

I tried some liquid-breakfast options, but my innards were not impressed, and besides, they tended to have about the same nutritional value as a glass of milk, but at double the price. Nutri-grain bars were an improvement on Pop tarts in texture, but still didn't feel like more than an over-processed fruit bar sprinkled with a bit of oatmeal.

I soon forayed into breakfast protein bars and settled on "South Beach Living" bars, as "not awful." The chocolate-berry and cinnamon-raisin bars were nearly even "okay." The best had a little give, a little chewiness to them. Regardless, at 10 grams of protein per bar and assorted vitamins and about $.50 per bar I figured that the nutritional price was right.

Well two things happened. First, the boxes, which had been 2 for $5, went up in price. Not a large amount, but they passed a psychological affordability barrier. Then it became clear that they were not restocking the best flavors. Cinnamon-raisin was gone first, then chocolate-berry, till finally all that remained were the peanut bars, which were the least palatable.

One week my Hy-Vee announced the change with one of their coupons:

Finally the reason became clear, South Beach had decided to do a redesign. No big deal, and the coupon restored the boxes to their previous boffo value.

The new boxes shifted the KRAFT trademark from the upper right corner to the left and in it's place proudly proclaimed that these protein fit bars had "Twice the Protein of the Leading Cereal Bar."

In smaller font the box indicated the amount of protein: 8 grams.

So, KRAFT added some cursive, and removed their assertion that their cereal bars were a "Nutritious Way To Help Satisfy Hunger." And while they were doing this redesign they also lowered the protein content of the bars by 20%.

There's a small mathematical part of me very disappointed that South Beach Living Protein Fit Bars which once contained 20% of my minimum RDA of protein now only contain %15. If they had instantly restocked my favorite flavors I'd probably ignore it and carry on. I bet they even taste slightly better now that they have fewer dessicated soy krispies, or whatever they did to bulk up the protein.

I'd tell you to stop buying South Beach Living Protein Fit Bars, but I assume you already had more sense than that. For me, it may be time to start waking up 15 minutes earlier so I can make eggs and toast.

Scooped: New NY Times All-Nighter Blog caused All-Nighter

2010-03-05T06:07:00.007-06:00

For my Nonfiction M.F.A. thesis, written between 2007 and 2008, I put together a multi-genre piece called "The Insomniac's Almanac," which as it sounds, was meant to be a pamphlet styled as an almanac, but with articles, stories, and information that would be particularly interesting to insomniacs (such as myself). I figured I'd get to learn about a chronic ailment that had been affecting me for many years, as well as have a product that a publisher might be interested in. Almanac-style books such as John Hodgman's The Areas of My Expertise, Amy Krouse Rosenthal's Encyclopedia of a Modern Life, and Ben Schott's Schott's Miscellany were selling like hot cakes. At the same time pharmaceutical solutions for insomnia like Ambien and Lunesta were making tons of money. It seemed like the perfect combination.

My thesis, like many others, was both a success and failure in many ways. I learned over the course of writing it that I didn't have the design [or perhaps research]skills I needed to follow through on my idea in exactly the way I'd originally conceived.

I'm the sort of writer who loves computers. While most of my writing starts on tiny memo pads that fit in my back pocket, my handwriting is cramped and approaches sloth-like slowness. Without a keyboard I would get little done. But despite considering myself pretty savvy with some creative computer programs like ProTools and Adobe Audition, I'm just learning to use Adobe In-Design after years of becoming frustrated at not knowing how to turn off auto-functions (like numbering, or capitalization) in Microsoft Word. I still use the most basic word processor, Notepad, for most of my drafts and only put something into Word when I want to know how long something really is, or get spacing right.

Whenever I set out to make a graph for my thesis, or some other interesting and friendly presentation of information, I'd find myself thinking, "...maybe I can get the same message across by writing a story or a poem," and then, without wasting much more time that's what I did.

A friend sent me a link to a new NY Times online feature last night: All-Nighters.

I scrolled down to find out who was in charge of bringing these thoughts together and there it was: Ben Schott seems to have decided that an Almanac for Insomniac's is a pretty good idea too. But where as I wasn't ready, Schott has the experience and skills to pull this off beautifully.

I did have one sleepless night, or a all-nighter (har! har!) over this: if only idea known how to do a little bit more a little bit faster, if only my follow-through could have been better.

In fairness, I'm also excited: I look forward to seeing his (and my) idea unfold in his blog. The pieces in it are really quite thoughtful and interesting.

Meanwhile, I'm not throwing the baby out with the bathwater; I'm still pleased with the pieces in my thesis and many have been published. This has just made clear what I knew already: getting an M.F.A. isn't the pinnacle or capstone of a writer's creative journey. It's another clarifying step. At least this proves that I had a good idea, and fortunately, I think I've still have some pretty good ideas I've just begun to explore. There are skills I need to tend to if I want future ideas to be able to blossom properly, and I will.

Lolz!

2010-02-09T14:18:00.002-06:00

I recently discovered that one of my friends with whom I often instant message is not always "laughing out loud" when he types the initialism "lol." In retrospect I know I shouldn't be surprised, but it always delighted me to imagine that the thing I'd typed moments before was so funny that he was unable to control himself, in fact so funny that he couldn't master the coordination to type anything but those two letters, conveniently located adjacent to each other. But this is not the case. This weekend, while he was on gchat I watched him type "lol" after a friend sent him a message that wasn't even remotely funny. Which filled me with doubt. Am I really not funny?

I have never typed "lol" myself when I have not just laughed out loud. Do I perhaps have a problem with being too literal? Almost certainly the latter. Clearly the "lol" is a symbolic meme. There are currently no published studies that determine just how many people are actually laughing out loud and I think it's safe to assume that the percentage is low. However if that's the case I don't know how "lol" overturn "haha."

"Haha" has the benefit of adaptability. An extra "ha" may be added at either end to convey more amusement, or reduced to a single "ha" to express a dryer and lighter sort of humor. Lol lacks that flexibility. Perhaps convenience is king: "L" and "o" touch each other on the keyboard while your fingers must travel to write "haha." Or maybe it's appealing because it's one pronounceable syllable. But neither consideration has impeded the popularity of other initialisms such as "lmao" and "lmfao." Furthermore those are clearly meant to be hyperbole for the sake of further amusement. But "lol" can be taken literally and thus using it so freely seems disengenous.

More about "LOL" here.

The Omnilogist

2010-01-11T16:03:00.001-06:00

Artifice Magazine is an incredibly hot new Literary Magazine out of Chicago. My Author Dossier is now up on their mainpage. Also be sure to check out their submissions Wishlist. Then think about how nice it would be to get a year's worth of thought provoking literary curiosities delivered to your door.

Happy New Year

2010-01-05T11:44:00.000-06:00

Book Review #5

2009-12-30T07:49:00.000-06:00

Dune by Frank Herbert

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Dune is a compelling landscape of ecology, technology, culture, politics, and ideas. In short, it's truly a masterpiece. That said:

Do you remember lateral thinking problems? They re-entered the vogue, or perhaps just my consciousness about 10 years ago. To be fair, I've never read any of Edward De Bono's books, and maybe I will, but I found those problems really annoying.. Some of the answers were borderline obvious ("he knew he was in Australia because the water went down the drain the opposite direction") while others were merely discarded beginnings of movies such as "Dude Where's My Car" or "The Hangover" (A man wakes up in the desert with one burnt match, frost bite on his left hand, a string of multi-colored hankerchiefs, and half a gallon of margarita mix. What the hell happened to him last night?). I remember that one of the notions [maybe apocryphal) of LTPs that I heard over and over was that computers couldn't do them. Only the unique and powerful human mind could, through yes or no questions, construct the stories that explained these scenarios.

And so I wonder, could a Mentat solve a lateral thinking problem?

The Mentat is simultaneously one of the coolest and most dated of Dune creations. Herbert reiterates several times that Mentat reasoning was more effective than the most powerful computers of Earth's golden age.

Think about it. When Herbert was writing Dune the most advanced computer game was "SpaceWars!" They could not "play DOOM." Packet networks (the interwebs) were a mere theory. Transistors were brand new to the computing world.

So on rereading "Dune" I spend most of the time wondering about the limitations of a Mentat. I imagine a Mentat would have the edge on all of my friends who applied for investment banking positions five or so years ago when interviews asked questions like "How many golf balls would fit on a 727?" But would I enjoy going on a date with a mentat? Or, since Herbert refers to the "golden age," is it safe to assume that a masterful mentat (or at least Duncan Idaho) would be able to beat Deep Blue at chess?

View all my reviews >>

Jerry Beary's Cherry Cake

2009-12-21T11:16:00.009-06:00

Not so much a cake as a shapeless muffin, this is another food product that I have had the opportunity to experience thanks to the GED program at the other end of the office.

As opposed to PB&J whose production is merely shrouded in mystery, or murky, the Beary packaging gives nothing away. In fact, several variations of google searches only served up one matching hit.

Jerry Beary's Cherry Cakes are disappointing. It doesn't have the heartiness I expect from a muffin or the sweetness I want out of cake. Jerry Beary does get some points for having real cherries mixed in with what I've been thinking of as "cherry pearls," though on further reflection that's much too generous. Most disturbing is the texture, which is waxenly-moist, like bread baked with crayons. It's not dry, it won't crumble, but if you eat it plain it sticks to your teeth and lodges itself persistently at the roof of your mouth.

For some reason I can't stop eating them.

And it's for Charity!

2009-12-12T08:58:00.003-06:00

Selections from the Music & Entertainment section of CharityBuzz:

Justin Timberlake Personalized Steinway Baby Grand Piano

Meet Lady Gaga at the Concert of Your Choice with Two VIP tickets

I think the piano is the biggest ticket item available in that section, while the Lady Gaga offering is the one where the bids have already most exceeded the estimated value.

Engulfed

2009-12-11T08:33:00.002-06:00

No, it's not the Zombie Apocalypse, but it's at least as terrifying:

Time Lapsed Map of Unemployment

Misadventures in Adcopy #4

2009-12-08T10:31:00.004-06:00

Today's misadventure in adcopy is found at GECKO sfx. Okay, so Geico's spokesgecko's more doe-eyed cousin wanted to start a graphic effects company. I have no problem with that as long as he's done his homework and goes full out.

A smaller graphic tells me,

WARNING! Creative Blast Area

I've always got my creative hard hat ready (it absorbs the impact of explosive ideas rather than deflecting them). However, this website is totally stactic. There's not even a single link. I don't feel like I'm in any sort of danger, really, I'd welcome slightly more danger.

But I'm having most difficulty with the adcopy:

Creating Myths and Making Dreams ComeTrue is Our Mission. Switch On Your Creativity. Abuse of it.

GECKO sfx seems a little confused about what they want to capitalize, and there's a space missing between "Come" and "True," but what really throws me for a loop is the imperative, Abuse of it. Any interpretations?

Maybe this is a direct result of fragmentation from the afformentioned creative blast area.

*The accompanying blog has not been updated since 2008, so this pretty clearly a ghost site. I wouldn't have been so interested except that I was googling Artifice Magazine and a site supposedly under construction by Gecko sfx was one of the top hits.

Misadventures in Adcopy #3

2009-12-04T13:56:00.006-06:00

What comes to mind when you see this word:

Don't be shy. To be fair, this isn't so much a misadventure in adcopy as it is in brand-naming. The adcopy is fine. But I don't know how anyone could get from the brand-name to the product without the picture.

This is one case where I'd really appreciate the addition of a hyphen, Bump-its, or a bit of well-placed capitalization, BumpIts. Though lacking those things the packaging is much more funny.

The Scenic [Root] Canals of Venice

2009-12-03T11:51:00.003-06:00

Root Canals of Venice

One of my teeth, which already has a crown, hurts. Dentist appointment today. Not in Venice.

Robodating: Mr. Eset searches for the Wobot of his dreams

2009-12-01T10:24:00.006-06:00

Could it be this Svedka model? Yes, she's sexy and cheeky, but it's unclear whether she has the the intellect or gravitas to satisfy him.

Frankly, I think he's more likely to fall for Cameron.

Postcard Rescue #5

2009-11-22T19:30:00.002-06:00

Front: 302 Tunnel No. 4 Moffat Road Colorado
Postmarked: October 18, 1908

Stamp: Franklin, 1 cent

Recipient:
Miss Nora Sheriff
Sulpher, Springs
Colorado

Postcard Message:

Oct., 16 - 1908
Hello! Heaps of snow, almost
sleighing. Winter
must be comming
near. good-bye
Charles H. Yust

A Space for Ideas to Meet

2009-11-17T17:06:00.003-06:00

It's true, both the Modern Language Association (MLA) and the Chicago Manual of Style recommend using one space, though neither brands two spaces as wrong, merely out of date. In the days of letterpress and typewriters, which used monospaced fonts, two spaces were considered essential to create a visual break. However, with the advent of computers and proportional fonts this break is apparently unnecessary.

Maybe I'm just a bit claustrophobia, but I like the breathing room and feel that two spaces are still valuable. If I left just one space I'd be afraid that something would emerge from the narrows between sentences, and perhaps make off with my commas. We do one space after each word. Between paragraphs there's the remainder of the line from the paragraph before, and at least a tab mark. Some even use a full blank line in separation. Shouldn't we pay sentences a little more respect?

Sometimes I like a sentence so much that I feel I should leave three spaces after it. I generally resist because then I risk leaving prose convention behind and entering the realm of poetry. But maybe poetry is behind the appeal of leaving two spaces. It is the "white space" that gives extra import to the words on either side. Two spaces offer a compromise between an endless and rough sawtooth of words and uncontainable worship of meaningful statements.

PB&J - the story continues

2009-11-16T18:11:00.004-06:00

I have always had an interest in food oddities. There's a recent move in our culture towards neurotic food awareness and a lot of it seems colored by contempt for the what middle-america eats. Yes, we're upset about deplorable conditions for animals and eating locally and so on, but we do that because we're privileged enough to be able to it. Meanwhile, millions of people are forced to rely on cheap processed food. We eat to the level we've been educated and then as well compared to that as we can afford. But I don't have contempt for processed foods. When I ran track in high school I used to run about 3.5 miles from the school to the Amherst Village Green. I rewarded myself by making utterly ridiculous impulse food purchases. I think it's safe to say that had PB&J been an option I would have bought it.

As is I would have never had the opportunity to experience it were it not for the GED classes that are run at the other end of my office. HFI Heartland Foods' "PB& J, the PEANUT BUTTER & JELLY Graham Cracker SANDWICH" is a "2.2 oz portion contains one grain-bread serving and 1.0 oz meat alternative for the school meal pattern requirements."

Here are the nutritional value as presented on the label:

Calories 318.09
Total Fat 18.07 grams 28%DV
Saturated Fat 2.69 grams 13%DV
Sodium 270.41 mg 11%DV
Carbohydrates 30.91 grams 10%DV
Dietary Fiber 1.14 grams 5%DV
Protein 11.71 grams
Calcium 2.8 mg, Iron 3.5 mg, 31%

That's right. The good nutritionists over at HFI have their nutritional content down to an absolute, exact science. Some companies would be satisfied to merely round up to 320 calories, but HFI has done their homework out to the second decimal. Really, if you think about it they're just setting a good example for the students eating it.

The origins of the PB&J are something of an enigma. According to the packaging these little bundles of meat alternative are made in scenic Moosic, Pennsylvania, however there's no reference to the factory in any account of Moosic I've been able to locate.

The HFI brand is currently owned by Preferred Meal Systems, Inc. Preferred by who, you might ask? I'd be hard pressed to tell you. PMS (they probably hate it when people call them that) also manages such brands as "Tasty Stuffed Delights" and "Kids Are People Too."

Perhaps the latter brand shows a little more respect for kids taste. Sadly, PB&J falls short, particularly on the "J." I've personally consumed close to a dozen of these, each time hoping against hope that this time I'd find the Jelly, because in truth, with a thin layer of Jelly these would be plenty tasty. But after thorough, scientific dissection the most I've ever been able to find is small purple smear on one of the Graham Crackers.

Recently the GED program has moved to bean burritos as their meat alternative, and while I'll miss PB&J conceptually, the burritos are a definite improvement in flavor.

Visit Scenic Moosic

2009-11-13T13:42:00.006-06:00

At the turn of the century, 1,227 people lived in Moosic, ten years
later, 3,964 people lived in Moosic. Had they continued to grow at that rate for the rest of the century one could imagine Moosic to be a bustling small town with over 25,000 people. However, despite having a 20-screen movie theater and being the proud hometown of the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre AAA Yankees, in 2000 the census total was 5,575. This means that in Lackawanna County Moosic lagged behind even fellow Borough, Dickson City, which had virtually nothing comparable to recommend it, unless you count the first Starbucks in Northeastern Pennsylvanian and a passing reference in The Office (set in Scranton). Moosic does however have a higher population than the Borough of Throop, home of the annual (for over 20 years) Summer Cow Flop.

Moosic is also home to an ABC news affiliate, the Shoppes at Montage (go to the website, but don't expect that you'll be given any indication of why "Shops" are spelled wrong), and even a PGA tournament golf course. According to Moosic Borough's website "the future horizon looms bright for the Borough of Moosic." Generally speaking I feel that things are more likely to loom ominously than to loom brightly, but then Moosic's situation is so good that it shines through common and idiomatic usage. And yet, despite all these fine attractions, I would never have heard of Moosic if it were not also the place where HFI Heartland Foods' PB& J, the PEANUT BUTTER & JELLY Graham Cracker SANDWICH is produced.

Tune in tomorrow for a full dissection of this food wonder.

Self-Promotion #3

2009-11-05T15:13:00.004-06:00

Quoted on the same page as Milan Kundera, Margaret Atwood, and perhaps best of all, The Wonder Years.

http://zerite.net/literatti/love/

Scroll to the bottom of the page, and there I am.

Great Things Found on the Internet

2009-11-05T14:49:00.004-06:00

Gay Bar or Steakhouse?

It seems simple enough until you're pulling your hair out because the Rusty Spurs just has to be a steakhouse SOMEWHERE and how could there NOT be gay club called the Pink Pony?

Disturbing Job Titles

2009-11-03T09:00:00.002-06:00

These jobs are now available:

5. Loss Prevention Agent

4. Irregular Warfare Analyst

3. Catastrophe Modeler

2. Casualty Adjuster

1. Manager of Denials

Soon to be posted:

Assistant to Malaise
Itch-Control Specialist
Coordinator of Despair

O.J.'s impulse buys #1 - follow up

2009-11-02T17:00:00.003-06:00

As will surprise no one, Batter Blaster, is a far better name than it is a product.

Rather than a pancake, batter blaster tends to make somewhat burnt and and sour discs. Even slathered with copious amounts of butter and a healthy drizzle of maple flavored syrup this product will still probably make you wish that you had an extra 7 minutes in your busy life to make bisquick batter. Though actually, they have a pre-made batter option. It's not in a can, but it may actually taste good.

However, while batter blaster does not make great pancakes, seeing the can still makes me giggle.

Dispatches from the West Roxbury Educational Complex

2009-11-02T16:48:00.004-06:00

A student:
Last year I wrote a letter to George Bush, but I don't think he read it. I also wrote a letter to some kid in Africa, but I don't think he read it either.

A teacher:
I have some good news and some bad news. Which would you like first? No, wait... it's all bad news.

Review of "Paranormal Activity"

2009-10-19T09:32:00.001-05:00

So, what did they spend the other $10000 on?

Book Review #4

2009-10-15T18:24:00.001-05:00

The Gormenghast Novels: Titus Groan, Gormenghast, Titus Alone by Mervyn Peake

My rating: 2 of 5 stars
I found this book used for $5. It's a beautiful edition, weighty, with creamy pages. It will undoubtedly cut an imposing figure on your bookcase. The Washington Post Book World review suggests that "many readers" consider it "the true fantasy classic of our time." I wonder who those many readers are. As a caveat, I've yet to read Gormenghast and Titus Alone, so maybe it's best taken as an entire oeuvre, but after reading Titus Groan, I don't feel I have the stamina to make it through the next to books. This is in stark contrast to J.R.R. Tolkien's novels, which I positively inhaled. I couldn't wait to finish one to get to the next.

So what makes Mervyn Peake's work different? Certainly there are things to like about Titus Groan. Robertson Davies says "Peake is a finer poet than Edgar Allan Poe," and whether true or not, it is an apt comparison. Peake's writing is lush beyond compare, utterly exquisite horror writing, swarthy with neogolism. In particular, Peake delights in his characters. Each has a Dickensian name that serves as a constant reminder and indictment, while further description is like a dissection: finely detailed and a little disgusting. I can "hear" Prunesquallor's laugh, I'm duly annoyed by and sympathetic to Mrs Slagg, and I'm positive the aunts Cora and Clarice were Roald Dahl's models for "Spiker and Sponge."

Take this section where he describes the movement of Swelter, the castle's psychotic and obese head chef:

"He insinuated himself through space. His body encroached, sleuth-like, from air-volume to air-volume, entering, filling and edging out of each in turn, the slow and vile belly preceding the horribly deliberate and potentially nimble progress of his fallen arches, (p. 330)."

The language is so poetic that it's imminently quotable. I could have opened to a random page and pointed. However, this quote also gets at my main difficulty with enjoying this novel. It was too "horribly deliberate." The writing overwhelms the story.

Most of the plot developments are announced far in advance and the reader is left watching pathos develop. And develop it does, but sadly, beyond the language level, it rarely excites.

View all my reviews >>

O.J.'s Impulse Buyes #1

2009-09-22T15:02:00.005-05:00

Like so many others, my budget has tightened. My most major splurge this month has been signing on to Netflix, which I'm doing my best to justify by watching a movie every other day. However, leaving aside justifiable treats there are some things which I buy purely on impulse, usually judging the book (sometimes it is a book), by its cover. As with this first installment of O.J.'s impulse buys most incorporate some form of adcopy so good, that even if the product is awful, it's worth simply to reread. Last week while at the super market I found a product that had me first snickering, and then giggling whenever I thought of it. I have yet to use it, but I do enjoy seeing it in my fridge each morning.

The product is Batter Blaster and it's hard to imagine the marketing team couldn't have been aware that it's only a short phonetic and conceptual hop from another alliterative phrase that includes the word batter, i.e. "baby batter." Even if your mind doesn't instantly enter the gutter, the concept is pretty smart and alliteration in food is always amusing.

For now I'm just enjoying the name. Once I've opened it up and made a few pancakes I'll be sure to post if it's really a blast. Tee hee.

Postcard Rescue #4

2009-08-24T07:11:00.001-05:00

Front: Federal Building and Post Office, Utica, N.Y. 166
Postmarked: Clinton, N.Y. June 18th, 1945.

Stamp: Green, Statue of Liberty, Industry-Agriculture for Defense, 1 cent.

Recipient:

Phyllis Santman
Dysart
Iowa

Postcard Message:

Hello Phyllis;
Received your
card it was nice.
I am an old man
49 years old
Married 6 children
the youngest 16
5 girls one boy.
3 married girls
Also 3 grand child-
ren. Come again

Book Review #3

2009-08-06T07:37:00.004-05:00

Should you read it: yes. Even if it's dated at times Wolfe's writing is insightful, snappy, and often hilarious. It's also a short, blazing fast read.

This is one of many books that I, as a student of nonfiction writing, have had on my shelf for many years, and I'll admit, at times I've pretended I'd read the whole thing, rather than just the first 20 pages.

I finally picked it up, because I just couldn't read only Proust for the whole Summer (10 more pages today!), I don't yet have a library card (soon, soon), and I had a minor epiphany... One of my students was going to a Gala-Grand-Opening Ball. This was the grand opening in honor of the Shepard [Kennerly:] Fairey exhibit. You may have read about it in the Boston Globe at the very bottom of the article with the headline, "Wahlberg and his girlfriend tie the knot." The Globe really has their fingers on the pulse. Of something. Anyway, they couldn't have the opening when it actually opened in February because Fairey was arrested as soon as his plane landed in Boston. And so I wondered, is my student going to a "Radical Chic" event? I suppose I could have looked it up on wikipedia, but I'm glad I read the book instead.

Despite the presence of Chuck D from Public Enemy, I think the answer must be no. Chic, yes. Left-wing, yes. But really, once you're celebrating the work of an artist who has created the most iconic portrait since Alberto Korda's photo of Che Guevara, in support of a presidential candidate who was actually elected, well, it loses some of its radical appeal. You dig?

Sadly, while I work for a non-profit I also don't see any mau-mauing in my future. But leaving aside whether my jew-fro is at all intimidating to the white man, I can see how the general strategy would be effective. I will bring it up at our next staff lunch.

Read more of my book reviews at my read shelf:

Discretion is the Better Part of Valor - Part II

2009-07-24T12:58:00.004-05:00

The debate about Professor Gates' arrest continues, and I realize that some may feel that my post also lacks discretion (though the impact of that indiscretion is a good deal smaller, essentially insignificant). In my last post I linked to the blog of "Doctor Cleveland," who it could be said was putting the most credence into Gates and his lawyer, Charles Ogletree's, statement, or side of the story.

Since then I have found Sgt. Crowley's initial report. Boston.com originally posted an alleged copy of the report, but then took it down and put up what seems to be an altered version of the original. You can read more about that and get a full copy of the original Boston.com posting at The Phoenix, at least until that story is mysteriously removed and replaced.

Crowley's report does place the incident in a very different light, however, even if his side of the story is complete true, it still seems, as one national observer has already noted, as though cooler heads should have prevailed.

And if Sgt. Crowley continues to refuse to apologize and the Cambridge Police Department continues to stand behind him, one really has to wonder: if they were so sure that their conduct was appropriate, why did they immediately drop the charge of disorderly conduct?

Discretion is the Better Part of Valor

2009-07-23T15:40:00.002-05:00

I can't help but feel that the arrest of Professor Gates by Sgt. Crowley shares striking similarity with another high profile incident; Officer Robert Powell's detaining of Ryan Moats.

Both incidents involve white officers and high-profile African-Americans, but I don't want to get into the role that racism may or may not have played in these situations. Instead I think they are most striking because of the behavior of the police officer.

Over and over again I've heard the case from colleagues, friends, and random people on the street, "It's a police officer's job to respond in high-pressure situations. It's life or death. They have to be ready for anything. He was just doing his job."

Yes, they have to be ready for anything. And, while it's melodramatic, they do put their lives on the line far more than most professions. But the first and last part of that argument are a gross over-simplification. If you want to reduce the role of the police to a handful of words, at least look as far as the motto on the door of a police cruiser: "to serve and protect." It's not good enough for an officer to just "respond," they must respond appropriately.

There's been plenty of sensationalism about the possibility of racism in this case, and Obama's response, but no one that I've seen has gotten to the heart of this incident better than Doctor Cleveland who's July 23rd post is measured and thoughtful. Something we all wish Sgt. Crowley had been.

Postcard Rescue #3

2009-07-19T18:51:00.001-05:00

Postmarked: Yorkton, July 23, 1:30 PM, 1934.

Stamp: Steam removed.

Recipient:

Miss Irene Wilson
Mitchelville,
Iowa.

Postcard Message:

Dear Irene,
- Well we're on the road
again, this time we're minus
Mother and Constance. We
are combining business
and pleasure in a trip
to Edmonton and Calgary,
perhaps Jasper. Wish
you were here so we could
show you what Manitoba
has to offer in the way of
beautiful scenery, wonderful
roads and camping accommodations.
The road into the park rises 1000 ft.
in 3 miles and is continually
winding and dipping, providing
wonderful views across the
surrounding country. The lake is
nestled in the summit. In four yrs
the woods have been transformed in the most modern
resort - all buildings, cottages, cabins etc. of cedar tongue logs
- wonderful roads - large hotel - modern camp site with
log shelters with stoves and every convenience. Wish you'd
come and see for yourself -- Love to all -- Stuart.

Mysteries in Data Entry

2009-07-09T06:56:00.004-05:00

I check a tutor sheet for 5/15/09. One of the students on the intake
form is listed as:

Susan Bivian (w/ Mick)

I think, ah, two students have come in to the writing center. Susan
signed in and she didn’t know Mick’s last name, so she just wrote
“Mick.”

Then I get to the next tutor form for 5/15/09 where one of the
students on the intake form is listed as:

Susan Bibiano (w/Dick)

That’s funny I think, so I consult the tutor names on the intake form
and discover that on 5/15/09 both “Mick” and “Dick” were serving as
tutors, so these Susans visited both tutors, and that cuts the numbers
of visits from 4 to 2.

Then I look them up in the student rolls to find their schools. There
is no Susan Bivian. There is no Susian Bibiano.

There is one student, a Susan Biliano. So I note it with a star on the
intake forms, and then add 1 writing center visit to the column for
the “PATH” school on 5/15/09.

That’s 1 visit out of a total of around 1500 I have to sort through.

O.J. would make it clear that it's part of his tutors' jobs to spell their students name correctly on the intake sheet (ask them to do it, or just ask them how to spell them. He'd also encouraged them to only make one entry, per student, per visit. But then, O.J. wonders why anyone in this day and age is still doing handwritten intake sheets, rather than using an online scheduling and data entry form, or at least adding the pertinent information to an excel spreadsheet.

The King of Pop is Dead

2009-06-25T19:59:00.001-05:00

August 29, 1958 – June 25, 2009

A Study in Contrasts

2009-06-21T09:22:00.002-05:00

Two quotes from the Boston Globe, June 21, 2009 edition.

From the front page article, continued on A8 under the title, City's sports program flailing:

"When I step on the field, it's the one place where I don't think about all the craziness," said Alex Munoz, a Dorchester High baseball player. For him, the "craziness" is this: a lender threatening to foreclose on his mother's home, a personal dilemma involving his girlfriend, the shooting deaths of several friends, the escalating gang violence in his Roxbury neighborhood.

Compare that to this quote, appearing the same day in the Section V article All-Scholastics Spring 2009:

Spring can be the most challenging season for a high school athlete. How do you stay focused on your game and keep thoughts of the beach, pool parties, and lazy summer days out of your mind? It isn't easy.

Book Review #2

2009-06-19T12:19:00.003-05:00

Book: The Court of the Air
Author: Stephen Hunt
Rating: 2 of 5 Stars

Minor Spoiler:

I'll admit; I was browsing through the Sci-Fi/Fantasy section of the ICPL and I picked up this book mostly because the cover looked beautiful. That was a mistake I'd like to say I won't make again, but I probably will.

Jay Lake, author of the Mainspring says: "If Charles Dickens and Jack Vance had ever collaborated, they might have written this book... The Court of Air is a collision between English letters and the hard-edged vision of grunge fantasy." Thanks Jay, you've just ensured I will never pick up one of your books. By Dickensian he means that the character all speak in heavily stilted Victorian brogue. It's more comical than interesting, and feels more contrived than natural.

For the first half I slogged through the plot holes and under-developed characters. To be fair there were some interesting ideas and relationships, but while there were plenty of words they some how failed to create the immersion I crave from a well-developed fantasy world. Background, character history, and information about the world were often communicated not through a compelling narrative a la the Golden Compass (a *great* example of a story driven by a spunky young heroine), but instead by asides and expositional dialogue that at times was hilariously bad.

The absolute low point came around page 302 with this quote:

"Don't you not understand? Molly softbody is a descendant of Vindex, which is why her system juices bubble with the very stuff of mechomancy."

Ugh. That was akin to the moment in the Star Wars prequel where we learn that the force is all caused by some goofiness at the mitochondrial level... 302 - 309 seeks to artificially unite all the hints and teases that were laid out ever so ponderously in the first 300 pages.

Fortunately mid-way through page 309 the pitch of the whole novel changes, and this is where Hunt is most proficient. In essence the central conflict of the story finally begins. From there till the end of the book the suspense crackles (as much as it could with my minimal investment in the characters) and the action is genuinely well-written, 4 out of 5 star quality. I just wish he could have gotten to it about 200 pages earlier.

Collection or Book?

2009-06-02T12:07:00.008-05:00

I recently, but belatedly ran across this review by Ellen Wehle.

Wehle reviews Joanne Fuhrman's Moraine which Publishers Weekly called, "well positioned somewhere in the nifty triangle formed by Frank O'Hara, Ted Berrigan and the Shins," a nifty triangle I had previously been unaware of.

It's not Fuhrman's book or "nifty triangle[s]" that I feel warrant comment after three years, but Ellen Wehle's main argument independent of the review. Wehle says,

"The very fact that we publish our poems not just individually but in books implies relatedness, a more-than-the-sum-of-its-parts quality that demands the poems be read together. Why, then, will one volume read as a distinct entity, confident and sure, while another reads like a grab bag of bits and pieces? What makes a book a book?"

Clearly Wehle holds some contempt for "grab bag" and it's this sort of attitude that has lead to the death of the first true collection by poets.

Anyone who visits the University of Iowa library has the opportunity to peruse the MFA thesises (even mine) going back to the beginning of the Writers' Workshop. Some of these were then published as collections and these collections provide an interesting window into the creative development of many poets now studied by literary scholars.

However, as the writing industry, and particularly the public interest in poetry has contracted first "collections" and even the initial MFA thesis have become less like a first collection and more akin to the polish level of a contemporary writer's second and third books. They are more likely to include sets of poems similar in form and/or content with the weaker or sometimes simply more difficult to categorize poems strained out. Suitable for individual publication, but not compatible with an over-arching form.

Most books of poetry I've read in the last few years have a discernible theme, even if like in the case of Moraine this a somewhat contrived or obvious post-modern idea like "the chaos of culture." A Collection may be a less polished form of art, but if we seek to demean the collection as a form comprised of mere "bits and pieces" we will miss out on the relative pleasures a first collection offers. Particularly we will be missing a step the writer's early work and trajectory as an artist. The collection won't die, but somehow the publishing community has decided that collections are the domain of more established writers who perhaps have earned the right to write roughly or randomly, whereas new poets must prove their discipline in some way before they're entitled.

By all means a first collection should be selective. I don't want to read a poet's high school journals (unless they're really fantastic), but at the same time I appreciate the possibility of something a little rougher, a debut that indicates exciting potential for future avenues in the poet's work, a collection with several different types of gems.

I suppose what I like best about reading the first collections of contemporary poets is the relative lack of Artifice. Artifice is an idea central to the work of most artists, but at the same time it can result in tunnel vision. It's exciting to read a poet's early work, when they're just discovering their ability to use words to communicate something fresh and interesting about the human experience, but haven't quite figured out the exact categories and strategies that will give form to the words.

Perhaps this is mostly semantic, with "collection" and "book" indicating two vague and overlapping forms. I think the highest volume of poetry readers are probably students taking literature classes in high school or college and I wonder if students with shorter attention spans, taught from anthologies packed with variety would crave the steadfast unity of a "book," or be excited by the possibility of a collection.

Certainly each has merits. What do you think?

Postcard Rescue #2

2009-05-26T10:43:00.001-05:00

P. 19 Sisters of St. Joseph Academy, Prescott, Arizona
Postmarked: Prescott, Ariz. November 22nd, 1939. 5 PM
"Red Cross -ol- Join"

Stamp: Green, George Washington, right facing profile, 1 cent.

Recipient:

Mr. and Mrs. Frank Becicka
R.F.D. No 1.
Ely,
Iowa

Postcard Message:

Dear Folks. Here as a------
the southwest h-------
wonderful trip, visited
Los Angeles, San Diego
and old Mexico, in San
Diego we had a boat ride
on the Pacific Ocean and
saw the fleet come in from
practice also our boat picked
up sailor boys off of big
ships where the boys wanted
to spend the weekend in
the city. Your cousin
Lizzie and George Kolda

Will tell you more about it when I see you.

The Crystal Gavel of Spontanteous Writing

2009-05-19T11:49:00.004-05:00

This is another bit of internet-writing-memorabilia akin to Michael Martone's Leftover Water. However, whereas the sale of Martone's water was laden with obvious writerly artifice from start to finish, it seems possible that the assortment of crystal hammer reviews may be born less out of a collective plan to create a postmodern essay or collection of stories, than a spontaneous response to the shear strangeness of the product.

However, this still doesn't come close to matching the fictional delight inherent to the products of merchant starry1_night on ebay. Though I may be close-minded. Perhaps there is nothing fictional about "offering authentic djinn on ebay since 2005."

Poscard Rescue #1

2009-05-10T16:31:00.001-05:00

Rock of Crios, Park of the Red Rocks, Morrison, Colo (274)
Postmarked: Seattle Washington, November 22, 1913

Stamp: George Washington, 1 cent

Recipient: Mr. F. O. Johnson
Tacoma, Washington
Box 1034

Postcard Message:

Seattle, Wash.
11, 22,/13

Oh, you Church.
Somewhere in the neighborhood of 10:40
("Now, who do you s'pose
that's from?")

Love, Alice

2009-05-10T16:27:00.003-05:00

Many antique shops carry old postcards. Some people buy them for their kitsch, old-timey feel. Others erase the messages on the back and resend them to friends.

Last year I created a blog specifically dedicated to these postcards. Who was the sender? Who did they send it to? Some how each of these cards left the study desk drawer, scrapbook, or shoebox and made it's way to an anonymous antique shop many decades later. Sadly, many find new homes after estate sales brought on by the death of the recipient, but surely others are just lost, waiting to be reunited with somebody who will cherish them as the worthless, but somehow also priceless artifacts they are.

I've found that I'm unlikely to maintain and post on two blogs, and so ojconfesses is now absorbing and re-posting the postcards that were previously listed on postcard-rescue.

Posts will present the address of the recipient, date and full text written on the postcard, and perhaps pictures of the cards from time to time. Follow-up posts will contain any information I've been able to find about the sender, recipient, and their family. If I manage to find proper heirs' addresses I will send them the postcard. Likewise, if you can provide further information about any card I've posted to this site, please comment.

The Konami Code strikes again!

2009-05-08T17:42:00.000-05:00

Enter ↑ ↑ ↓ ↓ ← → ← → B A ENTER while logged on to Facebook to experience a special treat! To be fair, this is far less interesting than the sparkly Unicorns generated by the Konami Code on the ESPN website on April 27th. The ESPN easter egg provided intense, fleeting fun, and it's still unclear whether it was actually ESPN sanctioned. It doesn't seem unreasonable to imagine that Facebook's use of the Konami Code may not be a hack, and so it may be available to enjoy for more than a few hours.

For a more complete list of sites where easter eggs are activated by the Konami Code visit konamicodesites.com.

Most just cause an image to appear on the screen like a proliferation of zombies or prancing uniforms (Adventure Quest's are particularly perky). While I have yet to test every site listed, I wish more used the Konami Code in a spirit similar to its original purpose (to provide extra lives or powerups)to provide bonus functionality or games to the site, a la the original code.

Use the Konami Code on Jquery for an unbeatable Guitar Hero minigame.

Law and Order

2009-05-08T15:49:00.000-05:00

http://www.wired.com/dangerroom/2009/05/no-jail-time-in-human-terrain-slaying/

Lead in from wired: Don Ayala — the U.S. Army contractor who pleaded guilty to a revenge killing in Afghanistan — won’t be going to prison. Instead, U.S. District Court Judge Claude Hilton sentenced Ayala, a member of the Army’s Human Terrain social science project, to five years probation and a $12,500 fine.

Ayala killed a subdued prisoner in custody, who had doused his partner in gasoline and set her on fire, after he learned that she had been severely burned.

This is a horrifying and tragic story, and perhaps it should be unsurprising that it's bringing out the worst in people on Wired message board. Many are arguing that Ayala shouldn't have been punished at all, or that the killing of unarmed prisoners is okay if the prisoner deserved it, or that Ayala did "the right thing." One even posted out-right racist comments (is anyone at Wired moderating or paying any attention to these messages?).

I may very well be a liberal softy, a title several posters pre-emptively denied, but most of all I'm an American who believes in the value of laws and feels it's important to uphold the very values we are trying to spread. Fortunately there were a few thoughtful responses that held true to American ideals. As posted by FarmerMonkey | 05/8/09 | 12:33 pm:

"This is a tragic case. I certainly sympathize with what Ayala did in the heat of the moment, but I disagree with anyone saying he did the “right” thing. Killing a subdued prisoner is a pretty black and white issue, with many unintended negative consequences."

Americans achieve justice through a legal system. Vigilante justice is exactly the sort of thing we're trying to quell in countries we're helping to democratize. And as posted by rapier | 05/8/09 | 1:39 pm:

"We kill people when they are a threat and Salam, no matter what he may have done, was no longer a threat. The killing of a bound unarmed prisoner is antithetical to the ideals of American military procedure. Ayala’s job wasn’t to exact revenge for the attack on Loyd but to further the goals of the United States."

And crosservice | 05/8/09 | 2:24 pm:

"By taking this man’s life without allowing him the basic right of due process Ayala has diminished the perceived worth of our basic human rights."

These aren't "army principles" as technophile, another poster, termed them. These are American principals, and furthermore they are principles that we are trying to advocate.

But nacoran | 05/8/09 | 3:33 pm has the best point:

"You can’t shoot prisoners. It’s not that this particular prisoner deserved to live, but that it undermines the custodial process. Suddenly bad guys are less willing to surrender without a fight (which can lead to more deaths on BOTH sides), civilians are less willing to cooperate, lines get blurred, criminals never get questioned to see if they know more."

"Making examples" of people is the rhetoric of the enemy. Even if you sympathize with Alaya, even if you understand why he did what he did, even if you think Abdul Salam should have been doused in napalm and then fed to the rancor, you have to realize that Don Alaya broke the law, broke with American principles, and ultimately may have strengthened the negative regional attitude towards Americans that is a major factor in enraging-tragic incidents like the one that befell Paula Loyd.

Please, please Wired comment posters: don't get so caught up in righteous rage that you seek to undermine the very values that we as Americans hold dear. If you think that killing subdued prisoners is acceptable then you're no Patriot, and probably need to stop jacking off to 300.

House Party

2009-05-06T21:27:00.001-05:00

Elsa/Getty Images

Konami Code Unlocks Unicorns on ESPN.com

2009-04-27T18:37:00.000-05:00

Type the Konami Code

on select sports front pages of ESPN.com and get free Unicorns like these:

No word yet on whether this is part of a random promotion (buy more unicorns? unicorns playing sports?), or a little guerrilla website programming, but it seems to be the former as the code no longer works on the front page.

Book Review #1

2009-04-19T11:19:00.000-05:00

From now on I will be pasting my reviews from the site goodreads.com to this blog. If you're a fan of books/reviews you can check out my reviews and ratings of over 100 books. Goodreads will may be less interesting to you if you're already spread thin across several social networking sites, however, if you're into books and would like your reading list to come peer-reviewed and recommended, then you may discover some fantastic books...

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz

My review

rating: 3 of 5 stars
Minor Spoilers:

This book was passed onto to me by a friend, very well reviewed. And indeed, there were many things to like about this book. The writing was very good. Certain scenes were surprisingly beautiful while at the same time being brutal-- --but at the same time the main character's obsession with fate was far more important that the tragi-fun forrays into geek/dork/nerddom. Now I know, some people are reading this now and saying "fuku!" and "zafa!" but I don't care if a book is about faith and fate, that doesn't give it the right to be so very predictable.

The title is the first problem. Unless you are a hopeless optimist you know that Oscar Wao will be dead by the end of the book, and by about 40 pages in you can probably make an educated guess as to how. Matters are made worse by the fact that the novel had fantastic PR. Something I too hope to have someday, but not in quite the same way. I fear that my sense of deja vu may have been because I read so many different pieces excerpted in different magazines (the New Yorker springs immediately to mind). Large portions of the book are exquisitely rendered, but still feel narratively redundant or unnecessary.

[structural spoiler:]

A perfect example of this is the ending, that starts by giving us five farewell scenes, and then, two separate codas before fading to black, and letting the movie-credits-like acknowledgment page roll. Part of me wants to believe that Diaz is using this ending as a play off of epic fantasies which often need to tie up several loose ends, or in particular the Return of the King movie, which in the last 15 minutes seemed to be entirely slow motion of people smiling and clapping people on the back. But it was a disappointing and monotonous end to the Return of the King, and I can't help but feel the same at the end of this novel. Playful homage is fine, but its limits are the same as the limits of whatever genre it chooses to emulate, and cliche satirized is, unfortunately, often still trite.

View all my reviews.

Savory and Sweet

2009-04-18T14:05:00.000-05:00

Thursday night passover came to an end, and after a successful night of bowling my team and I went out to the Village Inn to celebrate. The menu listed many fantastic leavened treats, and I considered several different pancake configurations.

It should be noted that after spending the first half of passover with my family I returned to IA hoping to pick up just a few minor passover essentials. A box of matzah, a jar of borscht, and maybe also a jar of gefilte fish. Instead, when I went to Hy-Vee, the table holding their small selection of kosher for passover foods was gone and had been replaced by a ziggurat of Peppridge farm bagels. I tried the shelf in the ethnic food section where year-round kosher foods are usually stored, but the entire selection had been replaced with a wall of ramen noodles. I was so flabbergasted and annoyed that I left with nothing but a bag of lettuce, a rotisserie chicken, and two boxes of eggs. As a result nearly every meal from Sunday night on was built around eggs. Hard-boiled, scrambled, omelets: each was exquisitely boring to me by Thursday night.

But when I got to the Village Inn I was conflicted. My team mates had been talking about getting pie, and the Caramel Pecan Silk Supreme looked over-the-top good, but I still wanted something savory. Searching for something that would fulfill my craving without being overwhelming I finally decided to get my slice of pie with a side of bacon.

My friends were shocked by this combo, but I was amazed I had never thought of it before. Bacon goes great with pancakes and maple syrup, why not serve it with desert?

A quick internet search reveals that my friends and I are far behind the curve. The blogosphere went into a frenzy over the desert-bacon concept during the middle of 2008 after Marini's Candies began selling chocolate-covered bacon. However, Marini's Candies may have gotten the idea from Vosges release of Mo's Bacon Bar in 2007.

The adcopy for Mo's Bacon Bar is a fine example of food porn:

Rub your thumb over the chocolate bar to release the aromas of smoked applewood bacon flirting with deep milk chocolate. Snap off just a tiny piece and place it in your mouth, let the lust of salt and sweet coat your tongue.

God, I'm getting hot, and hungry.

If your taste-buds are aroused by the idea, but not quite to the tune of $10 a bar, just check out Yum Sugar's do-it-yourself recipe.

And, unsurprisingly, my bacon/pie combo was fantastic.

The perfect blend of apple juices

2009-04-07T14:53:00.000-05:00

Can you guess how many different countries contribute apples to Dole 100% Apple Juice? Three, maybe four, right? Try every country on this list:

Austria
Argentina
Brazil
Chile
China
Germany
Hungary
Italy
Turkey
United States

And the ingredient list doesn't say it "may contain," it says "contains," which seems to imply that each bottle has apple juice from these countries.

Now to be fair, it doesn't say "Juice from apples grown in the following countries," but instead "concentrate from," so in a truly, ridiculously global economy it would be possible that the apples in the concentrates from the listed countries may in fact include apples from other, bordering countries, where there may be a surplus of apples. Or it's possible that all of these concentrates use apples that originate from only one country, such as China, the largest producer of apples on the Dole ingredient list.

Regardless, I can't think of anything else I eat or drink whose components are even theoretically so well-traveled.

<----------- barrels of concentrate in a warehouse in China. Kids; this is your opportunity to make your personal or local pool taste just like apple juice!

Ebay Strangeness: Martone's Leftover Water

2009-04-06T12:46:00.000-05:00

Michael Martone's Leftover Water sold today on ebay for over $20, crushing my maximum bid of $11.53. The following is the complete text of the ebay listing, including some inspired buyer questions and seller answers.

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Writer Michael Martone's leftover water
Imbibe literary genius (dozens of authors) in one swig! Item number: 1503358701

You are bidding on approximately 8.3 ounces of Dasani water (plus backwash) in a 20-ounce plastic Dasani bottle (lot number NOV0909 TOC0931L3). This was left by writer Michael Martone on Wednesday, March 25th, 2009, after a reading at Brigham Young University, during which Martone read the “Contributor’s Note” where he talks about his mother writing his school assignments, "G# Minor 7th in the Second Inversion", and “Seventeen Postcards from Terra Incognita.”

Why should you want Michael Martone’s leftover water, especially when Elvis’s may come up for bid again? You may recall from one of Martone’s “Contributor’s Notes” that:

“In his role as host of a reading, he is often faced with what to do with the leftover water of his guests … Martone is left behind to secure the room, coil the microphone cables, clean up, kill the lights. Part of the cleaning up part has always included the disposing of the evening’s water. Often the lecture halls and auditoriums are not outfitted with a sink. Indeed, the whole point of the headache of providing water in the first place has been the fact that the hall is not in close proximity to sources of water. So Martone has found that he has fallen into the habit of finishing the water himself, drinking the dregs from the glasses or bottles left by the readers like a priest ingesting the leftover Eucharist at the end of Mass. Martone does this more out of a sense of neatness and order, but, he supposes, there is some of the spirit involved as well. He has witnessed some really amazing performances, listened to the work of famous and remarkably gifted writers. And he has drunk their leftover water. Perhaps a part of him believes some of that talent and skill will find its way into his own metabolism through this communion with greatness. It is a kind of inoculation, by means of this tainted fluid, with the cooties of the greatest. Martone hopes, as he drinks, that its inspirational properties, if not the medicinal ones, have ‘taken.’”

So, you’re securing decades’ worth of literary genius--“the cooties of the greatest”--all at once, through the cooties of this pioneering collector. Whose DNA might you find swirling in this literary stew? Gordon Lish, Tobias Wolff, Mary Karr, David Foster Wallace, William Gass, Jane Smiley, Lewis Hyde, Susan Dodd, Susan Neville, Tony Early, Louise Gluck, Dean Young, Louise Erdrich, Charles Baxter, AND MORE! Plus, with over eight ounces of the muse-juice, you can pass it around at your next writers’ group meeting and still have liquid to spare. Save it a few years, collect other writers’ backwash, spit in it yourself, resell it on eBay and make your money back, do what you want to do: you bought it; it’s yours.

Whatever you do with it--whether you gulp it down in one swig, savor it a sip at a time, share it with friends, or simply place it as a trophy on your writing desk--you may be assured of immediate inspiration and better literary output, followed by fame and adulation, and most likely a hefty advance on your next book, not to mention the royalties from the movie version, starring Sean Penn and Winona Ryder.*

In addition to this priceless H2O, the winning bidder will also receive a handwritten Postcard of Authenticity from Michael Martone congratulating him/her on his/her wise investment and certifying that the leftover water is indeed Martone’s.

*Results may vary; seller makes no guarantee, expressed or implied, of literary potion’s actual effectiveness at making your writing better.

Questions from other members : Writer Michael Martone's leftover water

Apr-04-09
Q: Hi, I'm interested in acquiring the Martone water for my rare waters collection. But I'd like to know, where did the water originally come from? I'd appreciate any information you can share about its origins.
A: Leaving aside questions of "origins" for the moment, the water in Martone's water bottle was taken from the Atlanta, Georgia, public water supply before it was purified by "reverse osmosis" (essentially straining through a filter) and "enhanced" with trace amounts of magnesium sulfate, potassium chloride, and salt (sodium chloride). The Coca-Cola company, which brings us Dasani water, assures us that "DASANI is water -- pure and essential. DASANI helps you embrace life with a fresh, optimistic outlook. As basic as breathing, DASANI quenches thirst naturally and deliciously." I'm feeling better already. [Do they realize that they're claiming that Dasani is as basic a breathing?] As for the origins of water on the earth, well, even Wikipedia doesn't quite know the answer, so I can't help you there. I will say, though, that thank goodness there is water on the earth, or how could we live!

Apr-04-09
Q: In question eight you refer to him as "Dr. Martone." When I graduated from his program, last year, he was Michael Martone, M.A. What institution within the past year granted the great one his doctorate? And what is he now a doctor in? Is he a real doctor (the medical kind)?
A: You're very observant! The truth is, there are plenty of "doctors" who don't have doctorates or medical licenses. To wit: Dr. Pat Robertson, Dr. Johnson, Dr. Demento. Samuel Johnson, for instance, left Oxford without a degree and though his friends long sought to obtain for him some document of his erudition, he received his master's only just before he published in monumental Dictionary of the English Language in 1755 (he was 46). His honorary doctorate degrees came a decade and two later, long after he'd acquired his honorific nickname. William Hazlitt didn't much like Dr. Johnson's writings, but James Boswell sure did: "Had Dr. Johnson written his own life, in conformity with the opinion which he has given, that every man's life may be best written by himself; had he employed in the preservation of his own history, that clearness of narration and elegance of language in which he has embalmed so many eminent persons, the world would probably have had the most perfect example of biography that was ever exhibited. But although he at different times, in a desultory manner, committed to writing many particulars of the progress of his mind and fortunes, he never had persevering diligence enough to form them into a regular composition." This is just fine by us. He wrote essays, not memoir. Super. Anyway, who'll be the first university to confer an honorary doctorate on Michael Martone? Perhaps it'll be Brigham Young. I'll ask.

Apr-04-09
Q: This is delicate, but I have to ask. Does Martone ever sell other fluids, as in, fluids, you know, that have already passed through certain of his bodily channels? I don't want to come right out and name what I'm looking for, but you get my drift?
A: You mean tears? You must mean tears. I can't think of anything else you might be referring to. The good news is, YES, I believe I recall Martone, moved by his own poetical prose, eyes glistening, a drop meandering slowly from his moist ducts to the tip of his nose, gathering mass, tensing, testing the limits of molecular cohesion until, in the exact moment that he unscrewed the cap of his 20-ounce Dasani water bottle, the teardop dripped and dropped--plop--right into the open mouth of the vessel.

Apr-04-09
Q: Is this your only Martone item or will you be auctioning other collectibles? I'm most interested in Martone's water from AWP conferences, or pieces of toast with the burnt silhouette of his pompadour...
A: Thank you for bidding and asking this intriguing question, though I have to take issue with your characterization of Martone's hairstyle. The pompadour, which I've just researched a tad (http://www.lordoflaughs.com/pompadour.htm), is short on the sides, combed up in front and back on top, forming a kind of smoothly rounded forehead shelf. Think Elvis, Roy Orbison, James Dean. If you're interested in making your own pompadour (while you still can; I'm beyond this possibility), you may find the instructions at http://www.geocities.com/pompadour101/instructions.html useful. Additionally, you may find it interesting/frustrating to learn that the pompadour is named for Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, Marquise de Pompadour, who was King Louis XV's mistress in the mid-eighteenth century. Did she wear her hair like this? Not according to the portraits. So why do we trace the etymology of the hairstyle to her? Because "she introduced these styles." Whuh? To make a long story short: I am hoping the exclusivity of this Martone Memorabilia will send its auction price skyrocketing. I have nothing else to auction (at this time).

Apr-04-09
Q: I have seen the pictures of Michael Martone you have posted. How can I be sure that the Michael Martone who gave the reading was the Michael Martone who wrote the book Michael Martone? Does the Michael Martone who will write the postcard of authenticity of the water come with any kind of certificate that he is indeed Michael Martone or the Michael Martone?
A: "But how do I know that there is not something different altogether from the objects I have now enumerated, of which it is impossible to entertain the slightest doubt? Is there not a God, or some being, by whatever name I may designate him, who causes these thoughts to arise in my mind ? But why suppose such a being, for it may be I myself am capable of producing them? Am I, then, at least not something? But I before denied that I possessed senses or a body; I hesitate, however, for what follows from that? Am I so dependent on the body and the senses that without these I cannot exist? But I had the persuasion that there was absolutely nothing in the world, that there was no sky and no earth, neither minds nor bodies; was I not, therefore, at the same time, persuaded that I did not exist? Far from it; I assuredly existed, since I was persuaded. But there is I know not what being, who is possessed at once of the highest power and the deepest cunning, who is constantly employing all his ingenuity in deceiving me. Doubtless, then, I exist, since I am deceived; and, let him deceive me as he may, he can never bring it about that I am nothing, so long as I shall be conscious that I am something. So that it must, in fine, be maintained, all things being maturely and carefully considered, that this proposition (pronunciatum ) I am, I exist, is necessarily true each time it is expressed by me, or conceived in my mind."

Apr-04-09
Q: What color is the water?
A: Color, when understood beyond the 64-variety Crayola box, is essentially the eye- brain's perception of a certain wavelength range of electromagnetic radiation (approx. 390-730 nm), which we call visible light. An object's color, then, basically consists of the wavelengths of light that it reflects or transmits (as opposed to absorbs). Other factors, such as viewing angle, reflectiveness, source-light, etc. can also influence color perception. In the case of water, small amounts, such as the approximately 8.3 ounces offered here for auction, tend to be viewed as "clear." Yet, as you no doubt remember from your high school physics course, water tends to absorb the longer wavelengths of light (the red end of the visible spectrum) while allowing the shorter wavelengths (blues) to pass through. This effect is enhanced by particulates suspended or dissolved in the water. Water may also reflect ambient light (from the sky, the table it's placed upon), thus offering the curious viewer a soothing spectrum of grays or browns. I highly recommend viewing your Michael Martone Water in a variety of settings and under a variety of circumstances. Perhaps the most rewarding would be this: place a shining flashlight horizontally in a darkened room. Face the same direction as your flashlight beam, a few steps to the side. Hold your Michael Martone water at arm's length in front of you at a 45-degree angle. Turn the bottle, tilt it a little this way, a little that way, raise it, lower it, to find the optimal viewing position. Soon you should see, on the right side of the water, a red sliver; soon you will recognize the rainbow! And thus we see that Michael Martone's leftover water is all colors.

Apr-04-09
Q: How will you ship this leftover water of Michael Martone? Will certain precautions be taken, it being not just water, which is, speaking from personal experience, tricky enough to ship, but also a unique collector's item? Thank you for your time.
A: In order to keep would-be mail thieves off the trail of this valuable and unique collector's item/literary potency potion, I will mail the bottle, padded by Styrofoam(TM) "peanuts" or bubble wrap, in an inconspicuous corrugated cardboard box of indeterminate dimensions. Contrarily, I am happy to simply spill the water in a major river upstream from you, at a preappointed time, or to simply leave the bottle uncapped outside in the sun for several days so the water evaporates and rejoins the Great Cycle of Life, to then rain down and bless the earth and her inhabitants with deeply moving ideas and inspirations (I'll have to charge a little extra to do my rain dance to make the winds blow the clouds from Utah toward your home).

Apr-04-09
Q: Would it be possible for Martone to personalize the Postcard of Authenticity?
A: Ooh yeah. It's a handwritten postcard from MIchael Martone telling you A) that the water is authentic; B) that you're awesome; C) don't drink it all now; save some for later.

Apr-03-09
Q: Hello, madcabre ... (though I wonder who you are). This is Vince Gotera, editor of the North American Review. Michael Martone is one of the NAR's contributing editors, so we are very interested in your auction. ;-D But I'm really writing because if I wondered if I could import your eBay auction text, pictures, and Q&As into my blog? http://vincegotera.blogspot.com As you know, after 90 days your auction will go poof, so I'm offering eternal access by Michael's fans (and yours) to your wonderful joke/spoof/moneymaking scheme. Possible? --Vince
A: Hello Vince! Of course. That sounds like a wonderful plan. We're fans of the North American Review here in Utah, and we're all for cyberimmortality!

Apr-02-09
Q: Are there any visible signs of Martone's interaction with the water bottle (floating particles, teethmarks on the cap from opening it, etc.)?
A: I submit into evidence the video stills of Martone drinking from this very bottle of water. From that point to now, I will submit my own spotless record of honesty and truth-telling, even down to my choice of literary genre. Dr. Martone has also agreed to send to the winner a handwritten Postcard of Authenticity suitable for framing or recycling. Of course, you are free to hire your own forensics expert to verify the water bottle's authenticity. Next time you see Martone, simply pluck one of his long gray hairs to get your DNA match. As for the other writers whose germs are also likely swimming in this swill, you'll simply have to believe Martone. We do.

Apr-01-09
Q: I'd like to inquire about the safety of this product... has Martone been tested for Insanity and other transmittable mental conditions?
A: You are hoping, perhaps, to catch some of what he has? Some of that "benign neurosis" (to borrow a phrase from George Higgins) called "writing"? That's understandable. It is, after all, a rare individual who will hole up for hours, conversing only with himself, spinning stories and ideas from gossamer words, lining them up neatly (or putting them in a cage to fight to the death), straining for communication. If at the microscopic level our atoms never quite touch, then maybe words and diseases are all we have to reach one another.

Apr-01-09
Q: Does Martone floss?
A: Allow me, instead, to answer the questions I think you're really asking: 1) Did Martone floss soon before drinking, thereby limiting the quantity of valuable food morsels floating in the water? A: No, he did not. The water is sufficiently infested. 2) Why is flossing important? A: If you're like me, then you may floss occasionally, when you remember and aren't too tired, without much gusto. But hear ye my sad tale: Now I've got "deep pockets"--and not the kind that begets prodigal spending--which means "deep cleaning" from the dentist, which hurts, and requires quarterly instead of biannual visits, which most insurance companies won't quite cover, which does some damage to those "shallow pockets" most writers have, which brings up this interesting note from the dictionary--"floss: v. intr. to flirt; to show off, esp. (in later use) by flaunting one's wealth, possessions, etc."--a thing Michael Martone most certainly does not do.

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Brilliant.