Chimera Song Mosaic
Friday, October 29, 2004
I miss this.

But at the same time, I have been getting a terrific amount of reading done. And writing some.

So there's a tradeoff, of course. Like right now I have to go grade, which is a survivalist tradeoff.

This is the first time in 30 years that I have not wanted to be anything (else) for Halloween. On the other hand, I could go for a Reese's peanutbutter pumpkin.

I think I will post at least once a month, or perhaps I can manage once a week, a slow dropping, distilled crystal of superfluous information about me, or an idea that does not warrant verse (or do I ever write about ideas anyway? not successfully, no).

Surprised to find about myself that I deal well with routine--my own schedules that I have created for myself: exercise MWF, dinner at 6, workshop on Tuesday, lunch alone, lunch on Fridays with my friends (sometimes)--so maybe I can "pencil" in a blogger date--say, Wednesdays at 6?

I'm very excited about the election, but subbornly refuse to vote early, even if that means panicking on Tuesday, worried the lines will be too long and I won't get to vote.

Still, Shanna's vernal pools have given me something to think/dream about.

Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Two weeks ago, our school hosted Iraqi artist Lahib Jaddo, who is such a cool lady, in addition to being an amazing artist. She has been living in Lubbock, Texas, for over fifteen years.

A month or so ago, Sal De Mer Fin posted a "scene" (I'm not sure what to call a single photo by a photographer) by Turkish artist Nazif Topcuoglu, and I haven't been to get the photos (I looked at all of these, and what pleasure!) out of my mind.

I wanted to ask Lahib about Topcuoglu (she is Turkumani), but I couldn't remember his name. The thing one wants to do but can't because of memory.

Check out "Berkeley Prose" over at porthole redux. It's delicious and at the same time, luminous: "We're rewinding our memories." And then the moment when the helicopter descends is beautiful in its innocence (think of the moment when the helicopter rises in the last scene of Heaven and it just goes up and up into the sky, into what we don't know what, although the film itself is ironically titled. This is like that, but with words, not pictures, and the opposite happens--the helicopter descends from where we don't know what onto the known landscape).

But why would you be reading this when you could be reading that? I have nothing to say.

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