The conscience is a witch across a symmetric background.
this entree is of/pertaining to this past week/family invasion MFA graduation week/end +webley/wickert show. week.
i stood on a lot of stages last week. (stages, speakers, surfaces) here's a fav (though they are all fav's in my *flickr al-bum) from 1/15/10 friday night. my sisterjesserker caught me atop my Peavey for "off with her head." edrie had announced that she'd promised her physical therapist she wouldn't be standing on anything (again) lest she bust her knee (again).
last thursday i was a *professoress of poetrees (i know, weird to see me look like that, right? adult-ly, bangs out of emoface) teaching my graduating student seminar on "People'd Poetry: when the poet says 'I am not alone!' on the page" (feat. such writers as: Shakeshaft, Whitman, Ginsberg, Jane Kenyon, Marie Howe, Denise Duhamel, Diane Wakoski, John Berryman, Tony Hoagland, Rafael Campo- beloved mentor in my program, Rebecca Seiferle- beloved mentor from Brandeisdays) i have lotsa extra handouts, my seminar participants, appropriately numbered came Prepared!? -so i shld really offer to teach it again. i am making a few independent study curiculae-oom-um proposals for a posit' but more on that later. yay life beginning as a Professional Po-mo Poet. whatever that (doesn't) mean (anything).
last thursday night i burlesque poetess'd at my graduate reading. this is what i looked like while likely alluding to you in my poem, "What do you do?" from edrie's POV. my folks brought me a bouquet that made me look like i'd won a pony race. and my beloved punk rock mentor, Cate Marvin got me a sex lamp. then there was broken toys & the families corzett-lazar making merry at small plates, harvard square
friday night we filled the stage! (no really, what a great set, you guys.) and i made so many new friends and got some lovely graduation gifts from the audience. Jason Webley was in rare form, he kicked off his shoe and caught it between his neck/shoulder, and without his long hair his hat when on a few magical trips. it was a delight. 11 saints live! boom chika chika! (and Justin Moore took many many more shots such as these >> clickez flickr, his) gift inauguration occurred- as the show didn't start til the lamp was clicked on to read: sex - IN PROGRESS. yay more glowing toys returned to the army of toys stage. my mr. snowgentleman will probably remain a seasonal item/accessory/extra band member. my sister came to the after party antics after i done filled my brassiere w. dollars from commis' on the spot poems. an unnamed band member -did- ask me "how much?" when i was accidentally posed like a lady of the night outside the humid sauna that was the sold out lilypad crammed to the gills. my reply? "what was the going rate in the twenties? everything MUST GO!" but back to my sister and boobs. and pre-spanks from walter sickert. i took a photo to make folks jealous, you see...
on saturday i was late to the pre-graduation class picture. here i am captured by someone in Randy's family i assume, as i guiltily sneak in while some of my mentors (i.e. Teresa Cader) seem amused enough. better late than never? my program director is of course, staring at the appro' camera, above. and Claudia Rueda, my amazingly talented cohort classmate chidren's book writer/artiste extraordinaire is laughing at me! (1 of her books, My Little Polar Bear, Scholastic) at least i got in *1 group picture though i totally missed the class one. oh well, as i told my cohort, "i suppose it is now to be that my name shall evermore be forgotten in the annals of time." in? to the annals? clearly they shouldn't have given me my MFA degree, folks. i made zines and drew pictures with markers for school credit and wrote Menu poetry, lyric essays and corresponded with Donald Hall and was a strange lady the past 2 years/5 residencies! if that a Mistress of Fine Ass makes, so be it?
waiting for and running away with- my poetic license made out to a girl who doesn't exist. (dept. certificate, i'm getting my fancy shmancy masters one in may when i walk in the university ceremony, and then go get my padlock tattoo to celebrate w. katie z! who got an ampersand in honour of her thesis title already. oh well, more inks for all) the commencement speeches from faculty (Kate Snodgrass) and our classmate (class president Skip!) were amazing/moving/funny. and when asked what i was up to all of tonight at the kitchen table/my current writing-work station, i could pantomime "stirring the pot" to mean "turning lead to gold" to mean "writing." all without thinking about the word hippopotamus. trying to slip into the blissful unawareness, consume-ed-ness of the act/art.
to prove i'm as pretentious as i'm now typing (ahem, stachery), you might want to go look at the rest of my
>> flickr album dedicated to the madness of last week.
and here's a teaser of me violating my 1st brought in public as a purse journal Moleskine which i think i can pretend i'm cool enough to be using NOW that i got anudda degree. y'know, Moleskine instead of no-name sketchbooks, and in addit' to my beloved Mead composition notebooks. if i ever become a poet of any laureate-ship i want to get a free shipment of composition books. that's all i want. poetry begetting more blank pages?
thank you so much to my mentors, the program, my cohort, my workshops of doom and delight, my boston family for coming out to support your no good carnie adoptive kin, and to my bloody blood family for putting up with raising a no good poet. i am eternally grateful and excited as this program ending feels like only the beginning, once more. a good beginning. it's going to be harder, but i think it's also going to be easier. it's going to be more grueling-self discipline, and it's going to be my Life Work within the circles i knit/maintain. métier. i hope you will all continue the journey with me as a tightrope walk across empty air. i know i'll get some parasols to balance me out along the way. the way of being a writer, to-day.
i've dithered long enough. back to stirring the leaden hippos into verse. in my Mole-skee-nuh.
i stood on a lot of stages last week. (stages, speakers, surfaces) here's a fav (though they are all fav's in my *flickr al-bum) from 1/15/10 friday night. my sisterjesserker caught me atop my Peavey for "off with her head." edrie had announced that she'd promised her physical therapist she wouldn't be standing on anything (again) lest she bust her knee (again).
last thursday i was a *professoress of poetrees (i know, weird to see me look like that, right? adult-ly, bangs out of emoface) teaching my graduating student seminar on "People'd Poetry: when the poet says 'I am not alone!' on the page" (feat. such writers as: Shakeshaft, Whitman, Ginsberg, Jane Kenyon, Marie Howe, Denise Duhamel, Diane Wakoski, John Berryman, Tony Hoagland, Rafael Campo- beloved mentor in my program, Rebecca Seiferle- beloved mentor from Brandeisdays) i have lotsa extra handouts, my seminar participants, appropriately numbered came Prepared!? -so i shld really offer to teach it again. i am making a few independent study curiculae-oom-um proposals for a posit' but more on that later. yay life beginning as a Professional Po-mo Poet. whatever that (doesn't) mean (anything).
last thursday night i burlesque poetess'd at my graduate reading. this is what i looked like while likely alluding to you in my poem, "What do you do?" from edrie's POV. my folks brought me a bouquet that made me look like i'd won a pony race. and my beloved punk rock mentor, Cate Marvin got me a sex lamp. then there was broken toys & the families corzett-lazar making merry at small plates, harvard square
friday night we filled the stage! (no really, what a great set, you guys.) and i made so many new friends and got some lovely graduation gifts from the audience. Jason Webley was in rare form, he kicked off his shoe and caught it between his neck/shoulder, and without his long hair his hat when on a few magical trips. it was a delight. 11 saints live! boom chika chika! (and Justin Moore took many many more shots such as these >> clickez flickr, his) gift inauguration occurred- as the show didn't start til the lamp was clicked on to read: sex - IN PROGRESS. yay more glowing toys returned to the army of toys stage. my mr. snowgentleman will probably remain a seasonal item/accessory/extra band member. my sister came to the after party antics after i done filled my brassiere w. dollars from commis' on the spot poems. an unnamed band member -did- ask me "how much?" when i was accidentally posed like a lady of the night outside the humid sauna that was the sold out lilypad crammed to the gills. my reply? "what was the going rate in the twenties? everything MUST GO!" but back to my sister and boobs. and pre-spanks from walter sickert. i took a photo to make folks jealous, you see...
on saturday i was late to the pre-graduation class picture. here i am captured by someone in Randy's family i assume, as i guiltily sneak in while some of my mentors (i.e. Teresa Cader) seem amused enough. better late than never? my program director is of course, staring at the appro' camera, above. and Claudia Rueda, my amazingly talented cohort classmate chidren's book writer/artiste extraordinaire is laughing at me! (1 of her books, My Little Polar Bear, Scholastic) at least i got in *1 group picture though i totally missed the class one. oh well, as i told my cohort, "i suppose it is now to be that my name shall evermore be forgotten in the annals of time." in? to the annals? clearly they shouldn't have given me my MFA degree, folks. i made zines and drew pictures with markers for school credit and wrote Menu poetry, lyric essays and corresponded with Donald Hall and was a strange lady the past 2 years/5 residencies! if that a Mistress of Fine Ass makes, so be it?
waiting for and running away with- my poetic license made out to a girl who doesn't exist. (dept. certificate, i'm getting my fancy shmancy masters one in may when i walk in the university ceremony, and then go get my padlock tattoo to celebrate w. katie z! who got an ampersand in honour of her thesis title already. oh well, more inks for all) the commencement speeches from faculty (Kate Snodgrass) and our classmate (class president Skip!) were amazing/moving/funny. and when asked what i was up to all of tonight at the kitchen table/my current writing-work station, i could pantomime "stirring the pot" to mean "turning lead to gold" to mean "writing." all without thinking about the word hippopotamus. trying to slip into the blissful unawareness, consume-ed-ness of the act/art.
to prove i'm as pretentious as i'm now typing (ahem, stachery), you might want to go look at the rest of my
>> flickr album dedicated to the madness of last week.
and here's a teaser of me violating my 1st brought in public as a purse journal Moleskine which i think i can pretend i'm cool enough to be using NOW that i got anudda degree. y'know, Moleskine instead of no-name sketchbooks, and in addit' to my beloved Mead composition notebooks. if i ever become a poet of any laureate-ship i want to get a free shipment of composition books. that's all i want. poetry begetting more blank pages?
thank you so much to my mentors, the program, my cohort, my workshops of doom and delight, my boston family for coming out to support your no good carnie adoptive kin, and to my bloody blood family for putting up with raising a no good poet. i am eternally grateful and excited as this program ending feels like only the beginning, once more. a good beginning. it's going to be harder, but i think it's also going to be easier. it's going to be more grueling-self discipline, and it's going to be my Life Work within the circles i knit/maintain. métier. i hope you will all continue the journey with me as a tightrope walk across empty air. i know i'll get some parasols to balance me out along the way. the way of being a writer, to-day.
i've dithered long enough. back to stirring the leaden hippos into verse. in my Mole-skee-nuh.