Status

Closing . . .

Epiphany

Hold on.

Reticent Nerve

Because I don't have enough other blogs: Reticent Nerve. “Reticent Nerve” being a Cagian (minus the genius) piece from a few years ago (04 or 05—it's not exactly the kind of “work” you write down right away) that consists of a title and nothing else (and was more or less made for performance, though it's not like I get out much). RN will be for posting minimalist poems old and new. Rah rah rah.

Nobody here

If 2004 and 2006 are any indication, this is the time of year when my little burst of summer blogging comes to an end. I'd like to keep Nobody here from going into complete hibernation this fall and winter (and spring), but I've no idea whether I'll be moved enough to make that happen. No post yesterday because I was working on some poems. Not much of a post today because I'll be using this morning's "free time" to find out more about "unschooling." There's been some talk about it over at the Poetics List and Possum Ego. I'd never heard of it before, but I've read enough now to pique my interest.

The New Blogger

Finally ditched the old homemade template and upgraded to the new Blogger. The bugs with Safari and the layout editor are a bummer, but oh well. Time to start modifying.

On the New Design

It might not be pretty, but it's at least homemade. I hope to be making some small improvements in the near future. But with Dashiell set to be born in the next few weeks, and two bedrooms needing painting, I'll probably just stop paying attention to the blog altogether for another two years.

Look What Happens

Sheesh. Take a break for a few weeks. Then a few more weeks. Then get a new computer. Forget your login info. Actually have a handful of times where you want to post something but don't feel like bothering with blogger help (even though it only takes half a minute or so) . . . and look what happens. Not that I plan on posting much new stuff here, but I thought I should at least have access to the site—just in case. And, while here, why not take the ol' blog out for a spin....

If I Had a Blog

Reorganized the sidebar, adding a section for webzines, such as Robert Kelly's Matter. For some reason, maybe because I'm a sucker for self-imposed constraints, I decided (way back when I started Nobody) that I would keep the blog roll and such lists maxed out at ten links. Besides, Spencer Selby's list of experimental poetry magazines and Ron Silliman's blog roll cover most of the bases.

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Bad news of the day: Armed Robbers Steal Munch's "The Scream" in Oslo, as well as his hauntingly seductive "Madonna".

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Top three jealousies of the week:

3. Eden Prairie Couple Claims Powerball Jackpot. I rarely ever play Powerball, or any lottery, but I always talk about winning it. Especially come Monday morning.

2. Moneymaker: How an Amateur Poker Player Turned $40 into $2.5 Million at the World Series of Poker. First he gets balls-out lucky at the 2003 WSP—okay, more power to him—but now, voilà, he's an author. God bless America.

(What's with all this money talk? Am I really that superficial? Um, apparently.)

1. Lisablog. The shout-outs, the world leaders of the day, the fall curriculum preview, the attitude, and hocking of hats and "asses of evil" T-shirts. If I had a blog, I would want it to be this funky and cool and free of bitterness.

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Hey, score a point for democracy (sort of)! Nothing's a "gimme" these days. Federal Court Rules That Commission on Presidential Debates is a Partisan Organization.

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For good measure, here's another poem by Robert Kelly, "Mapping". "I know where I am in the world by loudness alone."

Vaughn Says Hi, Etc.

I guess it's official. Vaughn's first word is "Hi." KC took her for a scheduled doctor's appointment today, and while there Vaughn made her usual sound of acknowledgment. The doctor's unprompted response: "Oh, she says 'hi.'"

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Yesterday Vaughn completed her first, completely unassisted walking lap around her crib. She has repeated this staggering feet once or twice. This afternoon, though, at the doctor, she received four shots: the dpt vaccine, two others to guard against blood diseases, and then something else. Vaughn was a bit upset when KC and I were talking about this, so I didn't quite hear the whole story. Ever since coming home from the doctor's, she has seemed down; when she cries, it's less demanding and more sorrowful. She has a fever just over 100, and when we put her into her saucer-o-toys, she didn't stand as usual, but slouched, legs folded under her, all of her 16 pounds weighing down the cushioned side. We worried there might be a negative reaction from the shots. Called the doctor and the docter on call said "Tylenol." So we'll get Tylenol and see how it goes tomorrow.

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Last night I added a subtitle to my blog. It's not very interesting, so I colored it recede-into-the-background green. Later, I came back and added the word "satori" to the subtitle, though I doubt I'll be presenting any moments of enlightenment. I mean, it's been years since I experienced anything like that. Thousands of years. . . . expect thousands more will pass before it comes again. I just thought "satori" sounded cool up there, gives it a ring, ring of recurrence, and all.

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Speaking of recurrence, the other day at the end of my post on Lederer's Winter Sex I mentioned a few poets deserving more appreciation. I can't believe I didn't put at the top of that list someone even more unrecognized, and most deserving, John Taggart. To top it off, his poetry readings are exceptional, far and away the best I've heard. Anyway, here are a few links to make up for my previous oversight:

    Question No Question (poem)

    Pastorelle 2 (poem)

    Pastorelle 11 (poem)

    Pastorelles (review)

    The Necessary Word: A Tribute to John Taggart

Intro

About a month or two ago I started a blog. I really hadn't been making it to the computer too much before that, and all I hoped to get out of it was a kind of push or prompt to write. The idea was that the public sense about it would help compel me to sit down and type some words, see what happens. The anonymity meant I was free to write whatever crap I wanted; the little editorial voice in my head could take a coffee break. At least I could let one eye/ear wander. Turned out it was helpful. It did get me back to doing some "serious" writing, none of it directly related to my posts. I liked that blogging gave me the phrase "scattered boot" and hope to use it in a real poem someday. Now, though, I think I'll try some more conventional blogging.