I have a new website now: www.jacquesjrancourt.com
I'll be moving my blog over there and redirecting this site, so if anyone has this blog in their Google Reader and would care to continue reading my babble, update your RSS feed.
November 4, 2012
October 26, 2012
Warming Up from the Chill
To remedy this, I've been making apple-and-root-vegetable everything, despite the fact that avocados are still growing nearby; I carved a pumpkin; and Brandon and I have been spending the month watching horror movies. I hadn't seen many before now, and am catching up: Silence of the Lambs, The Exorcist, The Blair Witch Project, Rosemary's Baby, etc.
I feel a bit silly watching horror movies to fix my nostalgia for New England when I could just watch Gilmore Girls, but I've found myself absolutely thrilled by them. The ones (or moments) I like the best aren't necessary "horror" so much as "creepy." Their attention to mood, atmosphere, and suggestion are things I think about a lot with poetry. How, with a movie like Blair Witch Project, a second-long shot of a (spoiler) wall with tiny bloodied hand prints (that the filmmakers wisely know needs no further explanation) does more for the imagination than anything they could show us directly. It reminds me of the use of metaphor and white space, and how to evoke an emotional reaction with a single image, or even better yet, without one.
I suppose all this makes me a nerd. I suppose having a blog about poetry also makes me a nerd.
September 26, 2012
Terrible Similes
In California now. I had written a whole blogpost about the last bit of summer, about Bread Loaf and the cross-country trip over here, but it's been over a month and now it feels too late. Let's just say that Bread Loaf was magical, like a glossy colored-picture insert in the middle of a long book. Like living inside a peach, surrounded by a fuzzy skin. I could go on with these terrible similes, but the point is, I'm glad I got to go, and I'm glad to have met the wonderful folks I met.
**
Now I'm in California. I can't stop saying that. I'm in California. I walked across the Golden Gate Bridge. I went to the Folsom St. Fair (if you don't know what that is, google image it. Or don't.). Tomorrow, I have my first workshop with Ken Fields. The weather is always the same: cloudy in the mornings, sunny in the afternoons, high of 66. The apartment is small but beautiful. The cats have eaten all my plants. I couldn't be happier.
**
The poems have been coming slowly. I was worried that I would get here and become paralyzed creatively. And I was, for a bit. But I wrote a bunch of crap-drafts, and now better work is beginning to rear its face, a face only a mother could love, and I feel relieved. These things can be so fleeting.
I reordered the manuscript. I know I say that each and every time I post. But I did. I cut it down to only the poems I believed in, that I still believed in after reading them a gazillion times over, and I had 46 pages, which is two pages too short. But the book feels more honest now than it ever has. The discarded poem pile is over 300 now. I feel like the book is nearly done, like I have no more poems to write on this theme. I'm already working on a second project that I'm excited about and am thinking of assembling it into a chapbook. Those poems feel less personal and more precise. But now I have two projects I'm trying to wrap up, and manuscript submission season is upon us. I wish I had just two more months.
**
It's been weird living in a city. It's a first for me, as Madison never felt like a city (part of the reason why it was so easy to call that isthmus-oasis home). It's loud here, crowded, and I've seen more people pee on the streets than I ever thought possible. It's also strangely rhythmic, comforting. Still, I've been escaping urban life as much as I can. I walk to Lake Merritt nearly every day. Brandon and I drove to a redwood forest one weekend. This past week, we walked through Mountainview cemetery where on top you can see all of Oakland, Emeryville, San Francisco, the two bridges, the bay, the Berkeley hills. The best part for me is that moment when we drive north out of Oakland, start to rise in elevation, and the air shifts--you can smell it, you can smell how much thinner and clearer it is. The older I get, the more like this my life becomes.
August 4, 2012
Drought
A drought lifted for me today. I hadn't written a poem since the end of May. I could give excuses (living at a summer camp for seven weeks does not conduct creativity; I never write as well or as much in the summer months; I've been spending most of my creative energy combing through the manuscript; yadda, yadda, yadda). Either way, it felt good to break rain. The poem I wrote today in a strip mall Starbucks is in terrible condition, but it exists, and for now that's enough.
**
Brandon and I packed up our tiny life into tiny boxes and packed those boxes into a massive truck. We had ordered a 10' (which was much more space than we needed) and got a 16' instead. I've got an arm-out-the-truck sunburn. I've got acid reflux from eating too many granola bars. We've been making good progress across the country and have stopped in Oklahoma City for a few days, where it's been as hot as 117 degrees, a dust-bowl-breaking record. Southwest of the city, prairie fires have been sprawling out of control, aggrandized by the country-wide droughts. This fire, authorities believe, was started by an arsonist.
**
On Monday, we head out again and will be in San Francisco by Wednesday to look for a place. The week after next, I'll be at Breadloaf. Then it's back to the Bay area, hopefully into our new place. Onward and onward.
**
For someone who doesn't believe in writers' block, I think creative dry spells are acts of self-sabotage.
**
I gutted the manuscript again. I've declared that I've done this, it seems, every other post on this blog. I'm into it's 24th reordering and there are still 2 or 3 poems I need to replace before I'll feel good about sending it out again, and this time I'm not sending it out until that happens. It's hard to know, though, when a poem is a good fit for a gap. It's been so much easier to write a large stack of poems and find a book inside that stack than it has been to write to fill in a hole. And my summer of not writing hasn't helped. Also, I don't write poems the way I did during my MFA, which I think, in general, is a good thing. The poem I wrote today won't go into the manuscript, and neither will the last three or four, but one day I will write one that will. I know it.
**
I've been saying too many goodbyes lately: to my Madison family, to my Duke TIP family, to the place where Brandon lived this past year. I feel very divided, and a bit listless, during what should be an exciting time. It'll get better. The summer has been just too damned hot, and it seems everyone and everything is ready for this heat to break.
**
Brandon and I packed up our tiny life into tiny boxes and packed those boxes into a massive truck. We had ordered a 10' (which was much more space than we needed) and got a 16' instead. I've got an arm-out-the-truck sunburn. I've got acid reflux from eating too many granola bars. We've been making good progress across the country and have stopped in Oklahoma City for a few days, where it's been as hot as 117 degrees, a dust-bowl-breaking record. Southwest of the city, prairie fires have been sprawling out of control, aggrandized by the country-wide droughts. This fire, authorities believe, was started by an arsonist.
**
On Monday, we head out again and will be in San Francisco by Wednesday to look for a place. The week after next, I'll be at Breadloaf. Then it's back to the Bay area, hopefully into our new place. Onward and onward.
**
For someone who doesn't believe in writers' block, I think creative dry spells are acts of self-sabotage.
**
I gutted the manuscript again. I've declared that I've done this, it seems, every other post on this blog. I'm into it's 24th reordering and there are still 2 or 3 poems I need to replace before I'll feel good about sending it out again, and this time I'm not sending it out until that happens. It's hard to know, though, when a poem is a good fit for a gap. It's been so much easier to write a large stack of poems and find a book inside that stack than it has been to write to fill in a hole. And my summer of not writing hasn't helped. Also, I don't write poems the way I did during my MFA, which I think, in general, is a good thing. The poem I wrote today won't go into the manuscript, and neither will the last three or four, but one day I will write one that will. I know it.
**
I've been saying too many goodbyes lately: to my Madison family, to my Duke TIP family, to the place where Brandon lived this past year. I feel very divided, and a bit listless, during what should be an exciting time. It'll get better. The summer has been just too damned hot, and it seems everyone and everything is ready for this heat to break.
June 24, 2012
Somewhere Between
I left Madison over a month ago. Now, I'm halfway through a 7-week stretch of teaching Creative Writing at a summer camp for gifted youth, which has been a lot of fun (and a lot of work, but mostly a lot of fun). Middle schoolers are hilarious, awkwardly somewhere between children and teenagers, and surprisingly aware of the world around them.
***
I totaled my car on the way down from Wisconsin. It wasn't a collision, thankfully. Apparently, the Wisconsin winters rusted out my undercarriage, which collapsed, essentially, and there's no fixing that. It happened less than an hour into our 17 hour drive. Brandon and I repacked a rental, sold my poor Effie White for a few hundred bucks, and continued on our way, pulling into Athens around sunrise.
***
So now I'm in Davidson, NC, without a car, which is a lot like being in rural Maine without a car, which is a lot like spending most of my money at CVS for things like packaged food because that's all there really is here. It was a good lesson in letting go of control and adapting. I came here from Athens to Davidson on a Megabus with my backpack and have been improvising since.
***
As soon as I leave Davidson, it's going to be a fury of miles: Driving a U-haul and Brandon's car from Georgia to Oklahoma, dropping off three sassy cats, driving the U-haul and Brandon's car to California, hopefully securing a place, dropping the U-Haul off and unloading everything into a storage unit, and driving with Brandon in his car back to Oklahoma. Then I'm flying to Vermont for Breadloaf, driving to Maine for the quickest visit home ever, flying back to Oklahoma, collecting those three sassy cats and Brandon and moving to the Bay area for good. If anyone has a better plan, please let me know!
***
My birthday is in 5 days. Quarter-century! It's a weird age. I feel too old to be reckless and do stupid things, like smoke cloves on a fire escape with my best friends until morning. Too young for the old milestones that defined adulthood: houses, careers, babies. It's an age of between.
***
Being 25 is like being a middle schooler, in most ways.
***
I've gotten used to being unsettled. I was at a baseball game with the summer camp last night, and I couldn't care less about the game, and I couldn't stop looking at the moon, which was beautiful last night, and thinking about how we live on a planet, and how that planet is always turning, and how we're always in motion, even when we stand still.
May 8, 2012
Unsuitable for Public
Lately I've been prone to weeping a little in public. I wept a bit when I came to the end of Alice Munro's "The Bear Came Over the Mountain." I wept a bit when I heard about Maurice Sendak passing away. I wept a bit when I read this piece. Frankly, I don't think I'm suitable to be out in public anymore.
**
I'm giving a reading this Thursday! Then another in Milwaukee the following Friday. First order of business was picking out my outfit. Now that's taken care of, onto the poems.
**
I've been thinking about intelligence in poetry lately. Mostly that my poems are not 'intelligent' enough. This semester I've been reading smarter books, trying to push myself to write poems that are driven less by the heart and are more cerebral. And I've enjoyed the variety to my reading this has caused and have been given a new set of poets to admire.
But fuck it. I've hated writing that way. I write the poems I write because it's what I would want to read. Yes, my poems wear their little black hearts on their sleeves, and my work doesn't push against the confines of language or challenge the perimeter of our linguistic understanding. I admire poets who have done this kind of work well. I think it's important to always be pushing yourself to new goals, and to always be evolving as an artist. But I wasn't drawn to poetry for scholarly reasons. I was drawn to poetry because it made me more human.
**
Ha. I can't even write a defense of my work without becoming over-sentimental.
**
I've been reading through Legitimate Dangers, which is an anthology of poets whose first books came out between 1999 and 2006. It's a great anthology and the work is diverse and exciting. One thing I noticed is that just about every poet in there had their first book published when they were in their 30s, 40s, or 50s. It made me a bit more aware of how young I still am, and how young I am in relation to writing poetry. I've only been writing poetry seriously since 2007. I have a theory about how my favorite books take a decade to write, and I'd like to write the best book I can, so I have more time. A lot more time. I can be patient.
But of course, if my book gets taken in the next year, the first thing I'll do is delete this post.
**
I'm giving a reading this Thursday! Then another in Milwaukee the following Friday. First order of business was picking out my outfit. Now that's taken care of, onto the poems.
**
I've been thinking about intelligence in poetry lately. Mostly that my poems are not 'intelligent' enough. This semester I've been reading smarter books, trying to push myself to write poems that are driven less by the heart and are more cerebral. And I've enjoyed the variety to my reading this has caused and have been given a new set of poets to admire.
But fuck it. I've hated writing that way. I write the poems I write because it's what I would want to read. Yes, my poems wear their little black hearts on their sleeves, and my work doesn't push against the confines of language or challenge the perimeter of our linguistic understanding. I admire poets who have done this kind of work well. I think it's important to always be pushing yourself to new goals, and to always be evolving as an artist. But I wasn't drawn to poetry for scholarly reasons. I was drawn to poetry because it made me more human.
**
Ha. I can't even write a defense of my work without becoming over-sentimental.
**
I've been reading through Legitimate Dangers, which is an anthology of poets whose first books came out between 1999 and 2006. It's a great anthology and the work is diverse and exciting. One thing I noticed is that just about every poet in there had their first book published when they were in their 30s, 40s, or 50s. It made me a bit more aware of how young I still am, and how young I am in relation to writing poetry. I've only been writing poetry seriously since 2007. I have a theory about how my favorite books take a decade to write, and I'd like to write the best book I can, so I have more time. A lot more time. I can be patient.
But of course, if my book gets taken in the next year, the first thing I'll do is delete this post.
April 27, 2012
Links
The folks at Potomac Review asked me to write a blog post about why I write a poem a day in April.
**
I wrote a review of Melissa Range's terrific book Horse and Rider for Devil's Lake
**
Tracy K. Smith wins the Pulitzer for Life in Mars! Last year, I asked Tracy some questions about her award winning book.
**
I wrote a review of Melissa Range's terrific book Horse and Rider for Devil's Lake
**
Tracy K. Smith wins the Pulitzer for Life in Mars! Last year, I asked Tracy some questions about her award winning book.
March 20, 2012
Nothing Collapses
There are a few poetry books I read annually, mostly out of nostalgia but also because I find something new to appreciate each time. Every fall, I read Robert Hass's Field Guide. Each winter, Brigit Pegeen Kelly's Song. Spring, Mark Doty's My Alexandria. And in the summer, I read Song of Myself. The last in particular is so vast, there's only so much one can absorb on a first, second, or third reading. I've read it each year since 2007, and since Madison has recently been struck with summer-like weather, I'm picking it up again.
It amazes me that it was first published in 1855. It could have easily been published 100 years later. How can you not love a poem with lines as fierce as this: "All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, / And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier"?
**
I found out earlier this month that I've been named a 2012-'14 Stegner fellow at Stanford. My mind is a bit blown and my immediate life plan has taken quite a shift. Brandon and I are now moving to the Bay area. I've never been to West coast, and aside from a summer I spent on a Navajo reservation in Arizona, Wisconsin is as far west as I've really explored. I feel very lucky and very grateful.
In other good news, my manuscript was a finalist in the Yale Series of Younger Poets prize. I'd been hoping my book would place as a finalist somewhere this year, if only as validation that it's on the right tack. Many congratulations to Will Schutt, this year's winner and whose work I admire greatly. I read his poem "Sussing out" for linebreak a few years ago.
**
Mark Doty gave a reading last week here in Madison, which was such a treat. He's one of the most important living poets to me. I first read "The Embrace" on the top floor of the UMF library in the fall of 2006, and it was the first poem I really loved, the first poem that made me want to write poetry, and also the final impetus for my coming out. If I may be so sentimental, I would say this poem saved my life.
It amazes me that it was first published in 1855. It could have easily been published 100 years later. How can you not love a poem with lines as fierce as this: "All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, / And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier"?
**
I found out earlier this month that I've been named a 2012-'14 Stegner fellow at Stanford. My mind is a bit blown and my immediate life plan has taken quite a shift. Brandon and I are now moving to the Bay area. I've never been to West coast, and aside from a summer I spent on a Navajo reservation in Arizona, Wisconsin is as far west as I've really explored. I feel very lucky and very grateful.
In other good news, my manuscript was a finalist in the Yale Series of Younger Poets prize. I'd been hoping my book would place as a finalist somewhere this year, if only as validation that it's on the right tack. Many congratulations to Will Schutt, this year's winner and whose work I admire greatly. I read his poem "Sussing out" for linebreak a few years ago.
**
Mark Doty gave a reading last week here in Madison, which was such a treat. He's one of the most important living poets to me. I first read "The Embrace" on the top floor of the UMF library in the fall of 2006, and it was the first poem I really loved, the first poem that made me want to write poetry, and also the final impetus for my coming out. If I may be so sentimental, I would say this poem saved my life.
February 16, 2012
Confessions
Blog, forgive me; I've been neglectful. It's been 4 weeks since my last post. Either my life has been too full to take the time out to post, or the opposite and I have nothing to say to you all. I'll post more. I promise to try better!
Lately, I've been reading poetry that's less concerned with narrative elements or has less of a situational backbone. Although its influence hasn't yet surfaced, I think it'll be good for my work. I rely so (too?) much on narrative in my poems. I'm also trying to fill the gaps in my reading list, poets I should have long ago read. I'm reading A.R. Ammons and Gertrude Stein for the first time in my life, Dear Reader. Can you believe that?
I landed a summer job teaching creative writing in NC for gifted teenagers. It's nice to push back unemployment by another 8 weeks.
I'm participating in another poem-a-day challenge. More than halfway through, it's hard to tell what I will end up working with once the dust settles. So far there's 3 or 4 poems I'm excited about, and if that's all I get out of the month, it will be a month well-spent.
On Valentines day, Glitter Tongue launched: a collection of 30 love (or anti-love) poems from queer and trans writers. I'm proud to have a poem included.
Spent a long weekend in Athens with Brandon. We made a gourmet vegan dinner that took hours and hours but was absolutely glorious. We also saw a pair of black bears.
**
Lately, I've been reading poetry that's less concerned with narrative elements or has less of a situational backbone. Although its influence hasn't yet surfaced, I think it'll be good for my work. I rely so (too?) much on narrative in my poems. I'm also trying to fill the gaps in my reading list, poets I should have long ago read. I'm reading A.R. Ammons and Gertrude Stein for the first time in my life, Dear Reader. Can you believe that?
**
I landed a summer job teaching creative writing in NC for gifted teenagers. It's nice to push back unemployment by another 8 weeks.
**
I'm participating in another poem-a-day challenge. More than halfway through, it's hard to tell what I will end up working with once the dust settles. So far there's 3 or 4 poems I'm excited about, and if that's all I get out of the month, it will be a month well-spent.
**
On Valentines day, Glitter Tongue launched: a collection of 30 love (or anti-love) poems from queer and trans writers. I'm proud to have a poem included.
**
Spent a long weekend in Athens with Brandon. We made a gourmet vegan dinner that took hours and hours but was absolutely glorious. We also saw a pair of black bears.
Quinoa, avocado, and sweet potato timbale with roasted tomatillo dressing.
Artichoke ricotta tortellini with saffron cream sauce.
Black pepper shortcakes with blackberry basil sauce and cinnamon cream.
January 20, 2012
Revamp, Revamp
Once again, I'm revamping the manuscript. I thought I had been writing toward The Next Thing, but I've decided that all those poems were was actually still The Old Thing. I reread the manuscript after putting it away for three months and found four poems I wanted to cut, and I added 11 poems from the new set I'd been working on. So the book's longer now, which is fine, as it still only clocks in at 59 pages. I reordered it significantly, and retitled a lot of older poems to fit the newer poems. I feel good about it but it's still so new that I'm having a hard time looking at it objectively. Whenever I come across a new poem, I know it didn't used to be there so it feels very out of place even if it's not.
Sometimes I wish I could pay someone else could go through all my poems and find a manuscript. I've written about 250 poems for this book and have cut all but 53. Which is a good thing. But a different reader might have picked different poems, and I always wonder about some I've left behind. I know, I know; if I didn't order it myself it wouldn't really be my book anymore...
One of my New Year's Resolutions was to do more urban homesteading, so I've been making more a lot of staples from scratch and trying to use less products that have ridiculous and terrifying ingredients. My first experiment was to make my own deodorant, using coconut oil, baking soda, cornstarch, vitamin E oil, and tea tree extract (as adapted from Bonzai Aphrodite). It works super well! No residue on my shirts, and I like the way it smells. Other items on the list: soy yogurt, lip balm, cologne...
As of yesterday, I've been a vegetarian for 5 years. Couldn't be happier about that. By this time next year, I intend to be vegan.
Life in Wisconsin this week (via Underground Weather): "feels like -13 degrees," "5-7 inches of snow accumulation," "bitterly cold," "ice pellets," etc., etc.
I somehow always forget how walking outside this time of year is like your face falling off.
Speaking of Wisconsin: 1 million recall signatures were collected, twice more than were needed!
Sometimes I wish I could pay someone else could go through all my poems and find a manuscript. I've written about 250 poems for this book and have cut all but 53. Which is a good thing. But a different reader might have picked different poems, and I always wonder about some I've left behind. I know, I know; if I didn't order it myself it wouldn't really be my book anymore...
**
I got a copy of the Naked Muse calendar in the mail a few weeks ago, and I love it so much (but not too much). A great project and a beautiful product.
**
One of my New Year's Resolutions was to do more urban homesteading, so I've been making more a lot of staples from scratch and trying to use less products that have ridiculous and terrifying ingredients. My first experiment was to make my own deodorant, using coconut oil, baking soda, cornstarch, vitamin E oil, and tea tree extract (as adapted from Bonzai Aphrodite). It works super well! No residue on my shirts, and I like the way it smells. Other items on the list: soy yogurt, lip balm, cologne...
**
As of yesterday, I've been a vegetarian for 5 years. Couldn't be happier about that. By this time next year, I intend to be vegan.
**
Life in Wisconsin this week (via Underground Weather): "feels like -13 degrees," "5-7 inches of snow accumulation," "bitterly cold," "ice pellets," etc., etc.
I somehow always forget how walking outside this time of year is like your face falling off.
**
December 31, 2011
New Year's
Resolution season. There's the typical: weight (to gain it, in my case), exercise (ha!), read more, write more, work harder, like more people, drink more tea and less coffee, more time outside and less internet, more patience and less cynicism.
Looking back at 2011, I had a really good year. I read more translated poetry, saw more of the country, made more friends, began learning an instrument, and started this here blog.
New Year's Eve always makes me a little sad.
New issue of Devil's Lake is live! I'm particularly proud of this one. Some of my last editorial decisions as its poetry editor, a lot of work done from the editor-in-chief side of things. It's been awesome watching this journal grow over the last two years.
Poet Lore asked me to write a blog post about "Shank," my poem they nominated for a Pushcart. Here's the link.
Looking back at 2011, I had a really good year. I read more translated poetry, saw more of the country, made more friends, began learning an instrument, and started this here blog.
**
New Year's Eve always makes me a little sad.
**
New issue of Devil's Lake is live! I'm particularly proud of this one. Some of my last editorial decisions as its poetry editor, a lot of work done from the editor-in-chief side of things. It's been awesome watching this journal grow over the last two years.
**
Poet Lore asked me to write a blog post about "Shank," my poem they nominated for a Pushcart. Here's the link.
December 8, 2011
Poetry Is Hard
Poetry's been hard lately. I'm sure that has something to do with the end of the semester, but it's no excuse. When I am able to write a poem, I feel good about the work, but my productivity is slowing down quite a bit, which feels like a standstill coming off poem-a-day October. Perhaps my creative well is waiting for rain.
I finished grading my students' long poem. No one told me that by assigning a 10-page poem to 13 students that I'd have to read and comment on 130 pages of poetry in a week. But it hardly felt like work; my students this semester are so talented.
There's been a call for submissions to send "G-rated" poems to an Eat Local, Read Local festival in Milwaukee. My students have asked me to read a poem of mine at the class reading which we'll have on our final day together. All this has brought to my attention that my poems which make some reference to sperm much outnumber the poems which do not make some reference to sperm.
I found out that Poet Lore has nominated my poem "Shank" for a Pushcart Prize. I'm very humbled and honored. They have also asked me to write a post about the poem for their blog, which I'll link here when it goes live.
Dear Blog, have I told you I decided not to apply for PhD programs this year? I have decided not to apply for PhD programs this year. My heart just wasn't in it. I'm not completely ruling it out in the future, but I know what sort of steam it takes to roll through a doctorate program, and I think I just need to want it more than I do right now. I sent off some fellowship applications, but in all likelihood, I'll be moving to Georgia, finding some work there, hopefully still writing poems on the side, living with Brandon, and petting his three cats, and that all sounds great to me.
Also, Brandon and I celebrated our two year anniversary this past Thanksgiving. I'm a very lucky guy. The luckiest, I reckon.
**
I finished grading my students' long poem. No one told me that by assigning a 10-page poem to 13 students that I'd have to read and comment on 130 pages of poetry in a week. But it hardly felt like work; my students this semester are so talented.
**
There's been a call for submissions to send "G-rated" poems to an Eat Local, Read Local festival in Milwaukee. My students have asked me to read a poem of mine at the class reading which we'll have on our final day together. All this has brought to my attention that my poems which make some reference to sperm much outnumber the poems which do not make some reference to sperm.
**
I found out that Poet Lore has nominated my poem "Shank" for a Pushcart Prize. I'm very humbled and honored. They have also asked me to write a post about the poem for their blog, which I'll link here when it goes live.
**
Dear Blog, have I told you I decided not to apply for PhD programs this year? I have decided not to apply for PhD programs this year. My heart just wasn't in it. I'm not completely ruling it out in the future, but I know what sort of steam it takes to roll through a doctorate program, and I think I just need to want it more than I do right now. I sent off some fellowship applications, but in all likelihood, I'll be moving to Georgia, finding some work there, hopefully still writing poems on the side, living with Brandon, and petting his three cats, and that all sounds great to me.
**
Also, Brandon and I celebrated our two year anniversary this past Thanksgiving. I'm a very lucky guy. The luckiest, I reckon.
November 11, 2011
Fragments
I've been revising a lot of poems from the October poem-a-day challenge and am starting to think about which ones to send out. It's been awhile since I've sat on this much new work. The other time was after I took Quan Barry's boot camp workshop. Looking back, those poems became the framework of the manuscript draft I've been sending out, so I'm hoping that this batch will prove to be the foundation of the next thing. After some revision, I like the new poems more than anything else I've written, and I think that's a positive trajectory.
I've been sick all week. This coincided with the week of non-stop readings (I think there were a total of five this week) as well as twelve conferences in one day. Whatever I have is breaking but I feel so winded.
Many thanks to the editors of New England Review and Colorado Review for taking a handful of poems. It was very humbling to get notes from C. Dale Young and Donald Revell, two poets I've admired for some time.
Recall signature collecting begins in four days. Walker, start taking pictures of your office. You may want to remember what it was like to be the kingpin.
**
I've been sick all week. This coincided with the week of non-stop readings (I think there were a total of five this week) as well as twelve conferences in one day. Whatever I have is breaking but I feel so winded.
**
Many thanks to the editors of New England Review and Colorado Review for taking a handful of poems. It was very humbling to get notes from C. Dale Young and Donald Revell, two poets I've admired for some time.
**
Am preparing and sending out job and fellowship applications. Didn't I just do this? Not that long ago?
**
Recall signature collecting begins in four days. Walker, start taking pictures of your office. You may want to remember what it was like to be the kingpin.
October 31, 2011
On Quitting & Pillow Cases
This past October, some poet friends (and friends of friends) and I have been partaking in a poem-a-day challenge. I just sent off my 31st poem! I've tried doing the April challenge a couple of times and I usually end up quitting just over the halfway point, so I'm glad I stuck with it. It was a good exercise, and although half of what I wrote was utter crap, the other half is pliable and something I can keep working with. Some of the better poems I wrote this past month were on the days I wanted to quit, and would've quit if I hadn't felt the responsibility to write something down, and that's a good lesson for me.
Recently had some poems taken by the editors of Cream City Review and West Branch. Many thanks to them!
Halloween is here, and it's one of my favorite holidays and it comes in one of my favorite months. I've always loved costume parties, and I've always geeked out by dressing as superheroes. This year I wanted to go as Robin (as in Batman's sidekick), and I wanted to sew most of my costume myself. Here's a roundup of some superheroes I've been in the past, and this year's final product:
Brandon will be back in Madison in just over two weeks, and I couldn't be more excited.
**
Recently had some poems taken by the editors of Cream City Review and West Branch. Many thanks to them!
**
Halloween is here, and it's one of my favorite holidays and it comes in one of my favorite months. I've always loved costume parties, and I've always geeked out by dressing as superheroes. This year I wanted to go as Robin (as in Batman's sidekick), and I wanted to sew most of my costume myself. Here's a roundup of some superheroes I've been in the past, and this year's final product:
Batman, 2005. Made from heavy-duty trashbags and a mask found at Reny's
Superman, 2006. Made from clothes I already had
Robin, 2011. Made from compression cloth, spandex, pillow cases, dish washing gloves, and American Eagle underpants
**
Brandon will be back in Madison in just over two weeks, and I couldn't be more excited.
October 17, 2011
September 22, 2011
Coming Out
Below is a video of a gay man coming out to his dad over the phone:
I wish everyone who came out could have an experience like this one. Mine wasn't. It was Thanksgiving, 2008. I told my dad I was dating someone and that his name was Ryan. My dad moved to the other side of the couch and turned the television's volume up. Later that afternoon, when my baby cousin spit up over her mom, my dad nudged me and told me that I never did that because I was a swallower. I nudged him back and told him I still was.
Jokes aside, it was a solid two years before my relationship with my parents returned anywhere near a stable place. Since then, coming out has become easier, and is something I do all the time. Whenever I meet someone new, I feel the need to drop the word "boyfriend," to make a joke about being as queer as pink peanut butter, or to act more flamboyantly than what I'm predisposed to, just to signify to that new person who I am.
In poetry, I find the need to come out constantly, too. Like the Beatles who claimed every song they wrote was a political song, I feel every poem I wrote is a queer poem. For a reader who didn't know me to assume that my work wasn't queer (as our culture teaches us to do) would be to bypass the reason that poem exists. A queer perspective is the center of every poem I write, whether or not that poem confronts love and sex. If I write about a house, it's queer because the domestic sphere is different in a queer poem. If I write about death, it's queer because community and religious rites associated with death are different.
I think poets face coming out often, and not just the queer ones. Most poets stay in the closet (when asked what they do, they answer, "I teach"). We squirrel away in our little communities, and for the most part are ignored by the rest of the world. It was awhile before I could adopt the word "poet" as an identity. Even now it sounds a bit pretentious, a bit turtle-necked and forty-year-old Merlot to me, but coming out as a poet is another thing I'm getting used to.
I think poets face coming out often, and not just the queer ones. Most poets stay in the closet (when asked what they do, they answer, "I teach"). We squirrel away in our little communities, and for the most part are ignored by the rest of the world. It was awhile before I could adopt the word "poet" as an identity. Even now it sounds a bit pretentious, a bit turtle-necked and forty-year-old Merlot to me, but coming out as a poet is another thing I'm getting used to.
September 15, 2011
Crush, Hack, Calendar, Frost
Another semester, and my ducklings seem particularly lovely and smart. I'm having them read Richard Siken's Crush this week as their first adventure into the long poem (which my class is themed around). As I teach them about the long poem, I find my own poems are growing smaller and sparser and quieter. I've been reading a lot of Octavio Paz and now I can't seem to stop writing about abandoned houses.
*
Hacked the manuscript up one more time. I'm making October 1st a hard deadline for sending it out. I have a list of ten or so open reading periods and competitions for this year, and I'm starting to have second thoughts. The more I read other first books (mainly, the more I reread Crush), the more I think maybe it's not ready yet.
*
Since everyone keeps on asking for my opinion on the MFA rankings (read sarcasm here), here it is: I found Seth Abramson's rankings on his blog to be invaluable when I began to think about MFA programs. Not the rankings or the vote system themselves per se (I didn't even apply to the Iowa workshop, which is the top ranked school), but just how much information (stipend, teaching load, size, etc) was compiled into one place made a huge impact on my decision. Calling the methodology into question isn't an unhealthy practice, but the attacks directed toward Seth and the staff of Poets & Writers I find to be troublesome and childish. Laura Eve Engel writes more elegantly and in-depth on this topic here, and I find her post to be one of the best I've read on the matter.
*
Some friends and I got to discussing who we'd want to be included in a poet bathing suit calendar. I'm making my wishlist.
*
The weather has dropped, and now's the season for many late night walks. There are herbs (dill, rosemary, thyme) drying over our windows, and pickles pickling in a crock. The forecast mentions frost and an alleviation of migraines. Everything, it seems, is preparing for winter.
*
Hacked the manuscript up one more time. I'm making October 1st a hard deadline for sending it out. I have a list of ten or so open reading periods and competitions for this year, and I'm starting to have second thoughts. The more I read other first books (mainly, the more I reread Crush), the more I think maybe it's not ready yet.
*
Since everyone keeps on asking for my opinion on the MFA rankings (read sarcasm here), here it is: I found Seth Abramson's rankings on his blog to be invaluable when I began to think about MFA programs. Not the rankings or the vote system themselves per se (I didn't even apply to the Iowa workshop, which is the top ranked school), but just how much information (stipend, teaching load, size, etc) was compiled into one place made a huge impact on my decision. Calling the methodology into question isn't an unhealthy practice, but the attacks directed toward Seth and the staff of Poets & Writers I find to be troublesome and childish. Laura Eve Engel writes more elegantly and in-depth on this topic here, and I find her post to be one of the best I've read on the matter.
*
Some friends and I got to discussing who we'd want to be included in a poet bathing suit calendar. I'm making my wishlist.
*
The weather has dropped, and now's the season for many late night walks. There are herbs (dill, rosemary, thyme) drying over our windows, and pickles pickling in a crock. The forecast mentions frost and an alleviation of migraines. Everything, it seems, is preparing for winter.
August 24, 2011
Escaping the Pen
It's been nearly 3 weeks since my last entry! I'm headed down a slippery slope.
After a stint in Maine and a stint in Georgia, I'm back in Madison for awhile and have been working on my syllabus and manuscript pretty non-stop. I feel like there's a 2-3 poem gap in my current draft of my MSS (which is now well past its 20th and best rendition), and so I'm hoping to write toward these. The way it usually goes is I'll write 6 poems and half of them won't be any good and the other half might make it in. We'll see.
I met with some brilliant friends and we swapped manuscripts and gave each other feedback. They advised me to cut a few poems that I've known for awhile needed to go. I've been hesitant because just over a year ago I thought one of them was the best poem I had written to date. It seems strange to drop it from the book when other poems are staying that feel weaker to me but are more thematically aligned. Oh these tough decisions! My hope is that Andrew the Llama will be escaping his pen in a future poetry project, if not this one.
I reviewed Melissa Stein's Rough Honey over at Devil's Lake.
In an hour, my friend Liam will be in Madison for a visit! We've been friends since I was a freshmen at UMaine-Farmington. Here's a picture of us cleaning our bathroom back in carefree days:
*
After a stint in Maine and a stint in Georgia, I'm back in Madison for awhile and have been working on my syllabus and manuscript pretty non-stop. I feel like there's a 2-3 poem gap in my current draft of my MSS (which is now well past its 20th and best rendition), and so I'm hoping to write toward these. The way it usually goes is I'll write 6 poems and half of them won't be any good and the other half might make it in. We'll see.
I met with some brilliant friends and we swapped manuscripts and gave each other feedback. They advised me to cut a few poems that I've known for awhile needed to go. I've been hesitant because just over a year ago I thought one of them was the best poem I had written to date. It seems strange to drop it from the book when other poems are staying that feel weaker to me but are more thematically aligned. Oh these tough decisions! My hope is that Andrew the Llama will be escaping his pen in a future poetry project, if not this one.
*
I reviewed Melissa Stein's Rough Honey over at Devil's Lake.
*
Lately I've been feeling this very intense urge to go on a trip of some kind, to see more of the country. I feel like I'm getting to that age where one starts to become too bogged down by responsibilities to just go. Twenty four, and I already feel trapped by adulthood. So I've started planning a tenting / road trip for the end of the school year when I move from Madison to Athens. Via the west coast. Stops include but are not limited to: the Tetons, Yellowstone, Cathedral Arch, Zion, Big Basin, hot springs, Spider Rock + Canyon de Chelley, and Big Burgess.
*
In an hour, my friend Liam will be in Madison for a visit! We've been friends since I was a freshmen at UMaine-Farmington. Here's a picture of us cleaning our bathroom back in carefree days:
August 2, 2011
The Waiting
Earlier this year, I planned on spending the summer working on a new writing project, as summer begins to wind down, I ended up writing more poems for the first MSS and trying to get back into that headspace. It's been good. I've been adding new poems to the middle section, the one that to me feels the most lost. These poems don't "fit" thematically as cleanly as I would have allowed myself in earlier drafts. I'm hoping these poems will reach further, or take the reader to more unpredictable places, or mature the book as a whole (cue Jackie Wilson's "Your Love Keeps Lifting Me (Higher and Higher"). Who knows. It'll all be different in another few months. I'm trading manuscripts with some brilliant friends in a few weeks, and I'm looking forward to hearing what they think (but not as much as I'm looking forward to reading their manuscripts).
I'm also looking forward to the fall when all the journals and book competitions and reading periods open. And then the waiting, the dreaded waiting.
Brandon left for Georgia, and since, I've been trying to fill that part of the day I usually spent with him. I can usually keep myself busy to about 6pm, and then after that I start pacing or bugging my roommates to watch even more reruns of RuPaul's Drag Race or Arrested Development. I don't usually like watching TV but it makes the time go by faster. Part of me is excited to reconnect with people I haven't seen as much as I would've liked. And I'm hoping I'll read and write more and be even more productive (because reading and writing for 8 hours a day was child's play). Still, despite all this, I'll be glad when June comes and all of this separateness is over.
I'm also looking forward to the fall when all the journals and book competitions and reading periods open. And then the waiting, the dreaded waiting.
**
Brandon left for Georgia, and since, I've been trying to fill that part of the day I usually spent with him. I can usually keep myself busy to about 6pm, and then after that I start pacing or bugging my roommates to watch even more reruns of RuPaul's Drag Race or Arrested Development. I don't usually like watching TV but it makes the time go by faster. Part of me is excited to reconnect with people I haven't seen as much as I would've liked. And I'm hoping I'll read and write more and be even more productive (because reading and writing for 8 hours a day was child's play). Still, despite all this, I'll be glad when June comes and all of this separateness is over.
**
July 8, 2011
Interview with Tracy K. Smith at DEVIL'S LAKE
I ask Tracy K. Smith some questions about Life on Mars over at Devil's Lake. You can read it here.
" I started to realize that space and time and the distant future were becoming metaphors for American life, for a sense of American destiny, for the evolution and decline of the culture we belong to."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)