Happy All Saints Day!

Yesterday was my six month anniversary. I have been in North Carolina for six months. Wow how time flies when you are busy. A retrospective is likely in order, but I am not doing one right now. Though I will say I have been mostly pleased with the area. It has become cold and icky lately, but the summer was great.I am not looking forward to winter, though I saw a major sign of its impending approach yesterday. The groundskeepers at NCSU were running around yesterday planting Pansies.

I am feeling pleased with myself this morning. I wrote for nearly two hours last night, a pleasure I have been struggling to achieve for some time. The long poem is a challenging form, and one I have not yet mastered. It is also intimidating, though I rely on bpNichol's advice that eventually you have to put the pencil to the white page and just write. There are five workshops left in this term, and five weeks, though one of those weeks is a wee tiny week consisting of only three days. What I have to do in those few weeks is terrifying. I was going to add a but, but could not think of a but that eased the fear.

I have been thinking it is Christmas card sending time. I will need to dig out my addresses again. I wonder where I put them...

It is six-thirty am and I am sitting outside sipping on a coffee. How cool is that for November 1

Almost Six

Bit cold here this morning. I almost stayed in bed watching the sun burn away the almost frost from the world. It is amazing how cold 49 feels after a summer of 90's. I shall whine from now until summer returns about how miserably cold it is, except on those days when people in Cold Lake an area suffer from forty belows. At that point I will gloat about my beautiful weather. I am easily pleased.

I am growing quite fond of Mary Lamb and her crazy brother Charles. Insanity that can find outlets and survive is inspiring. Not that I would trust her with a knife in hand, but her story is still worth telling. Not that I will tell it here, but I do encourage you to go read Charles Lamb's essays, and the story of Mary.

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I had some great pancakes with real maple syrup for breakfast. I will have 'beef' Stroganoff for supper. It is tough being a vegan.

whether it is better to nap or...

It has been raining for the past few days. I have been enjoying watching it come down and listening to the water on the windows. It has become cold. I sit and shiver wrapped up in my Wolf blanket. I suppose I could turn the heat up, but I am feeling fiscally responsible.

I am in serious procrastination mode. I need to finish my annotated bib, read Frankenstein and Manfred, and do some writing/editing of my poetry. Instead I sit and look out my window, listen to Pink Floyd, and think about either napping or going to Whole Foods.

Hello Carol! I saw your note from last night and some time today or tomorrow I will write you a note and get it into the mail. It is great to hear from you.

I received a note from a grammar Nazi about the rather pathetic writing exhibited here. I suppose I should put up a little disclaimer on this page saying that all entries are put up as they occur to me. I rarely edit. In fact, I suppose I could say this page is written in dialect, not Standard Edited English. I should have kept the comment, I suppose, for what was truly amusing was the grammatical errors it contained. I had a nice chuckle though, so thank you mr or ms anonymous.

It is a good day for Manfred and Frankenstein. Or maybe some writing. I think I will set aside my annotated bib for a bit and read or write, or maybe both, for a bit.

A Wee Dig

It is six thirty on the twenty-fourth of October, almost November, and I am sitting outside on my back deck sipping a coffee and thinking about sweating. The current temperature is 74 (feels like 77 with humidity factored in). I should be honest and mention that it will rain all today (I hope, I am tired of stinking from being a good citizen and not showering) and tomorrow and be bitterly cold this weekend, but I am a poet and the truth, according to such luminous authorities as Plato, is not something with which I am familiar. Though I would suggest my status as a poet ensures I am familiar with the created, manufactured, socially constructed nature of all things we call truth, and can, therefore, reconstruct the social construction. It really is gorgeous out here this morning though.

I went to a talk about a PhD program here at State last night. It was an interesting talk, but I am not sure that program is something that would attract me, or match my interests. I do wish the MFA alone would satisfy my needs for employment, but there are too many poets and not enough jobs that actually pay.

Last night, my poetry class let out early so we could go attend the poetry reading by a candidate for the new poetry teaching position at State read. God, I love that horrible sentence, can you understand what I said, cause I ain't sure I can. Any way, Erin Belieu read, and so I was there listening. She is not a great reader, but she is better than some I have heard. The event was well attended, far better than any event like this at the U of A. Maybe because it was held in the evening? I would hate to suggest that Americans have a greater fondness for literature and poetry than Canadians.

I need to get going on my busy day, I suppose, but I have enjoyed sitting outside in November (almost) sipping my coffee and enjoying the dark, though some stars are visible in the sky so not too many clouds have rushed in to begin the rain storm the weatherman has promised.

Snail in the Soup

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I am one more day closer to winter, and already I dream of summer. Where is the warm weather that now seems so distant?

I have another busy day ahead of me, but I should enjoy what I am doing today, no desperate deadlines (until Wednesday Night! and Thursday night!), time enough to muck about and think about the things I would like to think about. I am rather pleased with my copy of the Chicago Manual (15th ed.). Guess that makes me some kind of uncool? Ah well, everyone has their cross to bear (furry and growly), and mine is pretty light, a teddy bear.

Our high today was 80. Not sure this warm weather is going to last, but it sure is nice (baring the no shower cept Sunday thing). I made this great supper tonight, schmushed horseradish potatoes, sauteed spinach, and baked and marinated tempeh. Filling though. For desert I had a chocolate loaf cake with a scoop of chocolate vegan ice cream. Just roll me to school tomorrow.

Slightly Anxious

Fall is sneaking up on me. I see small red patches of poison ivy high in the pines, you might wonder why that should signal fall, but it is a shocking sight when the low slanting, and a bit cold, evening light finds those brilliantly colored leaves near the green crown.

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I am facing a problem with a longer poem I am working on. Resolution where are you? Notice I avoided the archaic thou, though I was thinking it. I am plugging away at school. There are seven weeks of classes left in this term, and I will have completed one fourth of my MFA program. I have become more acclimated to the strangeness of living in a new environment. The sun is low enough now to show me where south is at noon. But the poem, ahh the poem. What I write is personal history, and for those who know me and that history it might have some interest, but for those who don't, I wonder, how can I get them to care. Maybe if I hire a go-go dancer and she can do her thing in the corner while the lights flicker psychedelically...A talking bear might distract the critic but how could I feed them? Carrots. The answer to every question is Carrots.