Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Dear Diary

Oh, Dear Diary, so much has happened lately that I don't know where to begin!

I shook dreamy Jimmy Fallon's hand at a taping of his show in Indy. He was here for the Super Bowl, along with a gazillion other people. I saw Patriots coach Bill Belichick riding on a bus. I saw Shaquille O'Neal in pink bikini bottoms, and Fitz and the Tantrums in nice blazers. I saw lots of other people on screens, even though they were a few miles away. Sometimes I like to keep my distance.

Diary, I have been lecturing to nearly 200 undergrads on Candide and grading up a storm. We talk about poetry next, then Kafka. Beetles! Allegory! Kafkaesque! I am, if you cannot tell, a little excited. The Hunger Games is also on the syllabus. Yes.

My sweet little toddler has been sick, diary, and boy have we had a hard winter. But he's healthy and cheerful now, and demanding a COOKIE after we let him have one at a Super Bowl party, where he kept saying MMM, COOKIE, MMM, and signing "more." He had never had a cookie before, nor had he ever said the word cookie. It was oatmeal chocolate chip. He ate three. Including half of one he ripped from my hand. Also he had his first chips. And a huge bowl of rigatoni. My boy did the Super Bowl up RIGHT. He may never eat a vegetable again, but hey.

Diary, I wrote another headline poem. This one's called "Astronauts answer YouTube questions from space," and it appears in Sweet. I think you will like it.

While we're on the subject of headline poems, lately I am meditating on Ezra Pound's assertion that poetry is news that stays news. The sentiment kind of blows my mind. Journalistic-literary-something-something worlds colliding.

I am, diary, a little tired.

But life is good. I am revising a certain thing to send back to a certain place. Did I just jinx it? NO. I am only telling you, diary, because I know I can trust you. But not with the specifics. Sorry, friend.

And I forgot to tell you, this is oldish news but hopefully news that stays news, but my short story "Resuscitation" came out in Blackbird a little while ago. This character, Shel, is one I kind of wonder about, still. What's she doing now? Maybe I need to find out.

Hugs and kisses,

1 comment:

  1. Resuscitation: Liked it very much. From the layered meaning of the title (teaching it is her job, the potential of it in her life is appearing in a surprising place). To the way you show Betsy's character with: "She did not say 'wedding' or 'gown' or 'bride.' She asked Shel, without really asking, 'Maybe I'd wear the dress you sewed.'" And what Fat Lloyd implied with: "'I'm good,' he assures her. 'Though I could always be better.'"

    Like.

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