Back from Beautiful Nowhere
Went to see Gary Snyder a little over a week ago. Matt met up with me in Seattle. It was a crazy long adventure. Bus rides, sold out tickets, a trip to Elliott Bay Bookstore. Sitting down there eating vegan chili below street level with the brick up against my shoulder, seeming philanthropists and intrigued glance-stealing girls. My eyes wild like a mountain hermit's from touching god. That darn writing bug has burrowed its way into my center lately. Another guy walked by, met him a long time ago, I think he was in a band. Anyway, we exchanged a look as he walked by with his coffee that only comrades in the fire of art can share. Matt was going to meet me in the bookstore. I was buying a little time to relax and engage myself in reading/writing. This girl that seemed interested in me kept looking over at me, and she was in my peripheal vision so I couldn't help but notice. When she started to vocally formulate her plans with her friend it sounded so caddish and planned to impress. I downed my fifth cup of water and left.
Love the creek of those stairs. Messed around their literary journals, they didn't have a copy of Cranky, guess I'll have to buy the back issues. Looked thru the staff picks stopping at Grenblatt's new book on Shakespeare, shit it was expensive. Eased past the $40 Neruda book I covet to find CCP's collection of Rolf Jacobsen. Taking a seat on the floor, I started perusing and images started arising in my mind: vast plains and community. My Celtic heritage and bonds of cultural responsibility receiving new life in gorgeous words of this long dead, personable Scandinavian man. The sights of hot women kept distracting me, women dressed up to make a night of going out. One particualry attractive one wanted to put her book away behind where my back rested, problem was her book's destination was really in front of me. I know the author whose book she had in hand, had the alphabet layout fresh in mind, and pointed directly to the open spot. She mouthed the name of the author "Ruth Stone" as if to initiate conversation as I placed my finger directly in the open spot she wanted. In surprise at my awareness, my quietude, and the awkwardness of having unnecessarily moved me she slotted the book in, shyly wavered her intelligent eyes, turned away, and took her sophisticated classy solid-brown stocking legged self away.
Earlier, I went out into the cold to make a call on street bordering the downstairs cafe. Calling the event organizers' # in the Stranger. Found the event was sold out. They said they hadn't ever had a poetry reading sold out at this large of a venue and were surprised. Standing there asking about my slim chances of getting in streetpeople checked me out, eyeing my flipphone pressed to ear, peacoat wearing appearance. I'm leery of the wrong symbols but damn a cell phone is handy when someone rambles around as much as I do. As for the peacoat, I think of Gogol when I wear it and it certainly isn't black leather late twenties, early thirties asserting materialistic personality fare. How many people wear a peacoat with a Native American necklace?
Matt hadn't arrived early enough for me to feel good about our chances to get seats.
Walked north a few blocks then east up First Hill via Seneca. Steep hill, and my post-cold walking legs felt a little rubbery. Had to take my wool gloves and wool hat off, unbutton my coat. I do get hot in any weather, especially when the blood gets going. Waited first in line. Talked with a poet-girl who works fishing boats in a Alaska and a pearl necklaced nice, in a WASP-y sort of way, lady who had read Turtle Island and was also at Wendell Berry.
Doors finally opened. I waited forever. A Copper Canyon girl I had talked to earlier walked by and gave me a free ticket. One ticket down, and one to go. I waited. Eventually a guy sold me a spare ticket. Then I had to wait for Matt.
Meanwhile--- Sky, Stephanie, David, and the twin infants came in. Sky looked thin as a scarecrow. If it weren't for his eyes I'd be worried about his health. Hadn't seen Stephanie in a while. Love that girl. I feel an affinty for her that most people would confuse for romantic feelings. Which is natural cause most guys with a pulse want to feel that way towards Stephanie. I sorta felt that way long ago, when we were both available more or less. What happened between me and Emma (her best friend) and my scaterbrained healing process that had a tinge of desparation were wrenches in anything occuring. Her "I'm going to go travel" wackiness then not travelling, insistence on not using birth control, and how she let Wes treat her troubled me. She was still a bit too wild and I was in no place to have a relationship especially when I didn't feel passionate enough to overcome obstacles. Mars kind of made matters worse when she joked about us (Steph and I) having kids someday when we were eating Indian food one afternoon. I don't know, when you care about someone of the opposite gender who is your friend with proximity attraction getting in the way I guess there is always potential for something to happen but I rarely have felt that way towards Stephanie. I'm always aware that I care for her and that I find her attractive but I've never run around with the distinct impression that I'm the one for her. I've never talked to Sky about this for there hasn't been a need, I'm not gunning to raise potentially touchy subjects that are almost non-subjects in my book without impetus.
Sky and I get along super-well. If he weren't such a busy man, I'd make him go camping with me and fortify our friendship. I am a tad self-conscious around the man because in the past I've made blanket statements around him I'm not proud of. Out of nervousness, I sometimes haphazardly oversimplify. Last time, at Last Word I said something about SSO Press that seemed like badmouthing. In reality I just don't like a lot of their poetry because I'm a picky writer who doesn't feel touched by their willingness to detach, their experiementation that often mutes emotion, and their frequent forays into disjointed melody. Cole especially can be very good, but all of them seem to publish poems that I would consider toss aways. I'm a particularly prickly editor tho, because I'm picky about seeking out dynamic consciousness.
Was going to say something to David about his recent get-to-know-you session with Alexis but didn't have the chance.
Matt showed up. Sweaty and smoking a cigarette. When he finally came inside I got one of those guttural "How ya doing brother?" Mattisms and a hug, his lumberjack platte that reminds me of grunge-wear in tow. Matt and I get along real good. We speak a lot of the same language. Some people you can adapt to and manage to eek out a shared vocabulary, other people you can say just about anything to and see it understood in their eyes. Matt and I get along well enough we can say those hard things without worrying about harsh judgement. This is not to say I agree with him on all fronts. I understand enough of his story from him, and his story within context of my story, that I mostly understand where he's coming from.
Gary made me laugh and think but his poetry wasn't mind-blowing. I went away thinking about what he's done in his 74 years and realized that the story of his life is more important to me than his poetry. His better works are damn good but the issues and ideas he stands for are significantly better than his body of work. The Real Work, a collection of his interviews, is a book I will return to again and again over the years.
Followed Matt to Tacoma. Slept on his mom's couch. Watched the Animatrix in awe. Had some good talks and breki. Went down to the Kickstand to talk to Dawn about the open mic but she wasn't there. Instead, ran into Daniel Blue. Was disappointed Daniel forgot Matt last time and I had cooled on our friendship. But we had some good talks about our roles in the world and what can be done to rectify injustice. Looks like he's gonna make some money off of designing clothes. We went down to Panamonica's cause I wanted to talk to Rob about the books of mine he has since he hasn't called me back. Chrissy was there but I didn't want to bother her about it. Took the long busride home, memories of where I had walked with Rebecca fresh in my head but I was more concerned with the economic disparity of my country and the world.
*******************
Erin ran up to me in Victor's and gave me a big ole hug. Been a long time since a beautiful woman I was intrigued by ran up to embrace me. Made me happy, and kinda sad at the realization of how much I need that physical contact.
*******************
Won the RASP slam. Here's how it worked. Each contestant was given three words. Mine were morbid, quaint, and supple. Having received their words the contestants were then given 25 minutes to write an original piece. Then we each performed twice with judges judging us on poem, performance, and use of the words. I wrote a piece weaving together the themes of fighting inhumanity, corporate injustice, and rock music. I won $10. Leanne and Megan were there. Those crazy girls and I went to PCC (a natural food co-op) to celebrate with some dessert. I get along with them both, Leanne better because I know her better. I get the occasional feeling that Leanne could have serious feelings about me and I just don't feel that way about her. Later, they teased me that I should marry a Swedish princess (a passive aggressive jab professing some belief that I prefer pretty women ie the classic stereotype of the Swedish swimsuit model?). I kept acting like they were talking about a Swiss princess making jokes about there never being such a thing as neutrality, cracking jokes about laundered money there, about how the princess would love me because I am a revolutionary (used Leguizamo's voice from Moulin Rouge) who wouldn't go along with the dependency there on time and the corruption of big banks. Went back to Victor's. Leah (another barista there) and I sometimes have a little conversation, and I get the sneaking feeling she thinks I am trying to attract her. (sigh) I am not. Dana (her boyfriend, a co-worker and friend of mine) seems a bit insecure about her. I represent some of what he is not (he started to diss on an author he assumed I hadn't read when in fact I have read every single book by that author, I didn't tell him that but he got the idea that I know and like the author) because I can be bookish, and I'm not a guy-guy who can't talk about my feelings, plus I go into subjects most people don't have the guts to touch. Apparently (forgot this in Olympia), I can really stand out talking the way I can.
******************
Onyx called me. I need to call her back.
******************
I'm going to see a reading of Robert Sund's collected poems tonight and maybe catch the Iron and Wine show with Ahniwa. Kelly Stoltz is also going to be playing and he is someone I've wanted to hear for some time.
*******************
Give me your adresses peoples, I have the most kick-ass Cristmas cards and they're asking to be sent your way.
******************
Books: Heraclitus Fragments of Wisdom
Wendell Berry Life is a Miracle
Kenneth Patchen What Shall We Do Without Us?
Everrett True Live Through This: Rock Music in the Nineties
Phil Cousineau Hero's Journey
Music: Elliott Smith From a Basement on a Hill
Radiohead Kid A
Flaming Lips Soft Bulletin
Billy Bragg & Wilco Mermaid Avenue II
Blackalicious AG
Movies: Matrix Revolutions
Iron-Jawed Angels
Martin Luther King: A Documentary (name?)
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
The Animatrix
*************************
Had a dream where people were drving down torn up streets. The roads were designed so that people had to use little turn outs. Road was too small so people had to trade off going down the crumbling blacktop grooved underbelly mess. A lot of my dreams have to do with a lack of completion lately. I need to put it all together. Finally, taking my vitamins every day and not giving into the fear of another vision. Visions are going to come anyway. I can either accept them or reject them offhand and not understand them well due to resistance. Might as well enjoy every place you are, so long as where you are isn't injustice. Will contact Rebecca again soon. She and Dean are probably a bit more sorted out, I can be her friend now. My little nephew loves sharing laughs with his uncle. Cute little monster!
Love the creek of those stairs. Messed around their literary journals, they didn't have a copy of Cranky, guess I'll have to buy the back issues. Looked thru the staff picks stopping at Grenblatt's new book on Shakespeare, shit it was expensive. Eased past the $40 Neruda book I covet to find CCP's collection of Rolf Jacobsen. Taking a seat on the floor, I started perusing and images started arising in my mind: vast plains and community. My Celtic heritage and bonds of cultural responsibility receiving new life in gorgeous words of this long dead, personable Scandinavian man. The sights of hot women kept distracting me, women dressed up to make a night of going out. One particualry attractive one wanted to put her book away behind where my back rested, problem was her book's destination was really in front of me. I know the author whose book she had in hand, had the alphabet layout fresh in mind, and pointed directly to the open spot. She mouthed the name of the author "Ruth Stone" as if to initiate conversation as I placed my finger directly in the open spot she wanted. In surprise at my awareness, my quietude, and the awkwardness of having unnecessarily moved me she slotted the book in, shyly wavered her intelligent eyes, turned away, and took her sophisticated classy solid-brown stocking legged self away.
Earlier, I went out into the cold to make a call on street bordering the downstairs cafe. Calling the event organizers' # in the Stranger. Found the event was sold out. They said they hadn't ever had a poetry reading sold out at this large of a venue and were surprised. Standing there asking about my slim chances of getting in streetpeople checked me out, eyeing my flipphone pressed to ear, peacoat wearing appearance. I'm leery of the wrong symbols but damn a cell phone is handy when someone rambles around as much as I do. As for the peacoat, I think of Gogol when I wear it and it certainly isn't black leather late twenties, early thirties asserting materialistic personality fare. How many people wear a peacoat with a Native American necklace?
Matt hadn't arrived early enough for me to feel good about our chances to get seats.
Walked north a few blocks then east up First Hill via Seneca. Steep hill, and my post-cold walking legs felt a little rubbery. Had to take my wool gloves and wool hat off, unbutton my coat. I do get hot in any weather, especially when the blood gets going. Waited first in line. Talked with a poet-girl who works fishing boats in a Alaska and a pearl necklaced nice, in a WASP-y sort of way, lady who had read Turtle Island and was also at Wendell Berry.
Doors finally opened. I waited forever. A Copper Canyon girl I had talked to earlier walked by and gave me a free ticket. One ticket down, and one to go. I waited. Eventually a guy sold me a spare ticket. Then I had to wait for Matt.
Meanwhile--- Sky, Stephanie, David, and the twin infants came in. Sky looked thin as a scarecrow. If it weren't for his eyes I'd be worried about his health. Hadn't seen Stephanie in a while. Love that girl. I feel an affinty for her that most people would confuse for romantic feelings. Which is natural cause most guys with a pulse want to feel that way towards Stephanie. I sorta felt that way long ago, when we were both available more or less. What happened between me and Emma (her best friend) and my scaterbrained healing process that had a tinge of desparation were wrenches in anything occuring. Her "I'm going to go travel" wackiness then not travelling, insistence on not using birth control, and how she let Wes treat her troubled me. She was still a bit too wild and I was in no place to have a relationship especially when I didn't feel passionate enough to overcome obstacles. Mars kind of made matters worse when she joked about us (Steph and I) having kids someday when we were eating Indian food one afternoon. I don't know, when you care about someone of the opposite gender who is your friend with proximity attraction getting in the way I guess there is always potential for something to happen but I rarely have felt that way towards Stephanie. I'm always aware that I care for her and that I find her attractive but I've never run around with the distinct impression that I'm the one for her. I've never talked to Sky about this for there hasn't been a need, I'm not gunning to raise potentially touchy subjects that are almost non-subjects in my book without impetus.
Sky and I get along super-well. If he weren't such a busy man, I'd make him go camping with me and fortify our friendship. I am a tad self-conscious around the man because in the past I've made blanket statements around him I'm not proud of. Out of nervousness, I sometimes haphazardly oversimplify. Last time, at Last Word I said something about SSO Press that seemed like badmouthing. In reality I just don't like a lot of their poetry because I'm a picky writer who doesn't feel touched by their willingness to detach, their experiementation that often mutes emotion, and their frequent forays into disjointed melody. Cole especially can be very good, but all of them seem to publish poems that I would consider toss aways. I'm a particularly prickly editor tho, because I'm picky about seeking out dynamic consciousness.
Was going to say something to David about his recent get-to-know-you session with Alexis but didn't have the chance.
Matt showed up. Sweaty and smoking a cigarette. When he finally came inside I got one of those guttural "How ya doing brother?" Mattisms and a hug, his lumberjack platte that reminds me of grunge-wear in tow. Matt and I get along real good. We speak a lot of the same language. Some people you can adapt to and manage to eek out a shared vocabulary, other people you can say just about anything to and see it understood in their eyes. Matt and I get along well enough we can say those hard things without worrying about harsh judgement. This is not to say I agree with him on all fronts. I understand enough of his story from him, and his story within context of my story, that I mostly understand where he's coming from.
Gary made me laugh and think but his poetry wasn't mind-blowing. I went away thinking about what he's done in his 74 years and realized that the story of his life is more important to me than his poetry. His better works are damn good but the issues and ideas he stands for are significantly better than his body of work. The Real Work, a collection of his interviews, is a book I will return to again and again over the years.
Followed Matt to Tacoma. Slept on his mom's couch. Watched the Animatrix in awe. Had some good talks and breki. Went down to the Kickstand to talk to Dawn about the open mic but she wasn't there. Instead, ran into Daniel Blue. Was disappointed Daniel forgot Matt last time and I had cooled on our friendship. But we had some good talks about our roles in the world and what can be done to rectify injustice. Looks like he's gonna make some money off of designing clothes. We went down to Panamonica's cause I wanted to talk to Rob about the books of mine he has since he hasn't called me back. Chrissy was there but I didn't want to bother her about it. Took the long busride home, memories of where I had walked with Rebecca fresh in my head but I was more concerned with the economic disparity of my country and the world.
*******************
Erin ran up to me in Victor's and gave me a big ole hug. Been a long time since a beautiful woman I was intrigued by ran up to embrace me. Made me happy, and kinda sad at the realization of how much I need that physical contact.
*******************
Won the RASP slam. Here's how it worked. Each contestant was given three words. Mine were morbid, quaint, and supple. Having received their words the contestants were then given 25 minutes to write an original piece. Then we each performed twice with judges judging us on poem, performance, and use of the words. I wrote a piece weaving together the themes of fighting inhumanity, corporate injustice, and rock music. I won $10. Leanne and Megan were there. Those crazy girls and I went to PCC (a natural food co-op) to celebrate with some dessert. I get along with them both, Leanne better because I know her better. I get the occasional feeling that Leanne could have serious feelings about me and I just don't feel that way about her. Later, they teased me that I should marry a Swedish princess (a passive aggressive jab professing some belief that I prefer pretty women ie the classic stereotype of the Swedish swimsuit model?). I kept acting like they were talking about a Swiss princess making jokes about there never being such a thing as neutrality, cracking jokes about laundered money there, about how the princess would love me because I am a revolutionary (used Leguizamo's voice from Moulin Rouge) who wouldn't go along with the dependency there on time and the corruption of big banks. Went back to Victor's. Leah (another barista there) and I sometimes have a little conversation, and I get the sneaking feeling she thinks I am trying to attract her. (sigh) I am not. Dana (her boyfriend, a co-worker and friend of mine) seems a bit insecure about her. I represent some of what he is not (he started to diss on an author he assumed I hadn't read when in fact I have read every single book by that author, I didn't tell him that but he got the idea that I know and like the author) because I can be bookish, and I'm not a guy-guy who can't talk about my feelings, plus I go into subjects most people don't have the guts to touch. Apparently (forgot this in Olympia), I can really stand out talking the way I can.
******************
Onyx called me. I need to call her back.
******************
I'm going to see a reading of Robert Sund's collected poems tonight and maybe catch the Iron and Wine show with Ahniwa. Kelly Stoltz is also going to be playing and he is someone I've wanted to hear for some time.
*******************
Give me your adresses peoples, I have the most kick-ass Cristmas cards and they're asking to be sent your way.
******************
Books: Heraclitus Fragments of Wisdom
Wendell Berry Life is a Miracle
Kenneth Patchen What Shall We Do Without Us?
Everrett True Live Through This: Rock Music in the Nineties
Phil Cousineau Hero's Journey
Music: Elliott Smith From a Basement on a Hill
Radiohead Kid A
Flaming Lips Soft Bulletin
Billy Bragg & Wilco Mermaid Avenue II
Blackalicious AG
Movies: Matrix Revolutions
Iron-Jawed Angels
Martin Luther King: A Documentary (name?)
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
The Animatrix
*************************
Had a dream where people were drving down torn up streets. The roads were designed so that people had to use little turn outs. Road was too small so people had to trade off going down the crumbling blacktop grooved underbelly mess. A lot of my dreams have to do with a lack of completion lately. I need to put it all together. Finally, taking my vitamins every day and not giving into the fear of another vision. Visions are going to come anyway. I can either accept them or reject them offhand and not understand them well due to resistance. Might as well enjoy every place you are, so long as where you are isn't injustice. Will contact Rebecca again soon. She and Dean are probably a bit more sorted out, I can be her friend now. My little nephew loves sharing laughs with his uncle. Cute little monster!
posted by Jason @ 5:59 AM
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