5.30.2006

christina aguilera on national public radio?

it's true...i was listening to NPR this afternoon on a tiny radio in the kitchen (ironically enough, playing housemother/domestic goddess as both parents were working today) when, at the end of a great piece about a new word surfacing in england (the word is chavs) the christina aguilera hit "dirrty" (no, that's not a typo) played as the "exit music" to the piece. the song's subject matter is at the opposite end of the spectrum from the very "saturday evening post"-type moment i had been having: evie in the highchair eating cereal and applesauce, i dilligently mincing clove upon clove of garlic;

i'm not making it up...proof here. you can imagine the slightly uncomfortable moment as the silence blissfully took over for the house-grunge-stripper beat, and the hosts searched for a more comfortable segue into the "real" news.

i know, the real question is what was i making for dinner? as i said, both mom and dad were working, so as an extended olive branch to my youngest brother (who is thirteen, hence we are not always getting along) i whipped up some shrimp alfredo (augmenting the canned sauce) with penne. for evie and i, i modified a recipe for veggie black bean burgers, adding corn and kidney beans, skipping the green peppers. they came out well, i think. yesterdays adventure in the kitchen was homemade falafel (i even made the beans myself!) with a kind of garlic-y sauce of miracle whip, tahini, and cayenne, and yet another variation on an egg salad theme.

last week's attempt at making spinach pesto, wherein i substituted fresh spinach for basil, ended up a strange neon green (think of the slime in the nickelodeon show "you can't do that on television"); it tasted, i'd say, average. edible, mildly pleasant, nothing i'd pay for. thankfully, i chatted with a chef at a wedding this weekend and came home with a better understanding of fresh/herb based sauces, and a new set of ideas and proportions.

planning on doing evie's grocery shopping in the morning, so i'll possibly attempt the spinach pesto again tomorrow.

now that "lost" is in summer re-runs, i'll have even more time for cooking!

my, my, my, i train for meals the way some men and women train for the high jump, no?

'my vocabulary did this to me'

yes, jack spicer's dying words; thinking today, fondly, of how much trouble my intellect (or interest in intellectual pursuits) has given rise to in my life.

anyhow, an old poem, marking the beginning of my fascination with jack spicer.


WHEN MY MOTHER SAYS, ANGELA, EVEN GOD GIVES US SECOND CHANCES

...all lost objects stay upon the moon
untouched by any other eye but God’s.

Jack Spicer, Imaginary Elegies I-IV

I cannot say why I invited you in, weeks after you’d left: just
that the moon was full, Mars bursting in the west, your hands
in the stalks of my hair I as stepped
from the car; even Diana’s moonflowers
were blooming.

That night, my entire shin was bandaged, the skin there burned
away playing softball, trying to outrun your throw flaring out of
right field, sliding into second on bare legs. You could not see
it pulsing red beneath the gauze pads, beneath my jeans,
your hand resting there a moment
while we smoked on the roof.

A full month later it is healed, a marble scar. Some nights,
I mistake it for the moon
look for you in the driveway.

But I wake in the morning and I do not see you, even
days when you are still sleeping next to me; it is
too early and too bright and I close my eyes,
think about how one
can never look directly at the sun, but can stare at the moon
for hours. How I do not really see anything until it is dark,
find your shirt in the bedclothes,
a handful of pennies on the roof.

5.25.2006

another gem in my inbox

...this one comes from the writer's almanac, a garrison keillor newsletter sent each day.
"Were we to choose our leaders on the basis of their reading experience and not their political programs, there would be much less grief on earth. I believe ... that for someone who has read a lot of Dickens to shoot his like in the name of an idea is harder than for someone who has read no Dickens."

joseph brodsky






5.23.2006

thbbbbbttttttttt

that's evie's sound for "blowing the white fuzz off the dandelion stem". and that's what she's about to do in the photo.

current (and recent) events

* diane (wakoski, my goddess with the silver ankle and the zebra) sent me the collected books of jack spicer a few weeks ago. currently working my way through "after lorca", so far loving how spicer marries the magical, the absurd, the humorous, the spectacular, etc etc etc in these "translations". in my goofier moments, i want to emulate this side of spicer.

my large-scale spicer obsession began when, in a contemporary poetry class, diane mentioned that his famous last words were "my vocabulary did this to me" (meaning his early death brought on by severe alcoholism). i then read "imaginary elegies I-IV" in the anthology the new american poetry, a great find at a small used bookshop in east lansing. spicer's musings on the moon, loss, poetry, and god knocked me from my seat. i then bogarted my old roommate's copy of the collected and fell in love with "fifteen false prepositions against god".

having, at least, my own copy has made me feel like a poet again.

side note: when i was pregnant, people were constantly asking me if i played music into my belly for la luz, or read out loud. i went to many poetry readings, concerts, participated in open mics, etc. the few times i purposely sat down and read to la luz in utero, i read the "fifteen", and played johnny cash's cover of "you are my sunshine".

* still working my way through anne carson's decreation. it's rather difficult and dense; i've been making quite a few margin notes, and doing a little light research. reading good, strong poetry (especially a book like carson's with essays and criticism breaking up the poems) brings out the "reader" in me, and the critic. i think, for the first time in quite a while, i'm going to write a paper/article.

this is a good thing. obviously, it is challenging to reconcile my "old" life as a poet/activist/troublemaker with my "new" life. i feel as though i am finally learning to unite them (like spicer's translations, which, as "lorca" calls them, are more centaurs [half lorca, half spicer] than translations.)

* an old colleague of mine (that makes me sound 50!) from the red cedar review (where i worked as poetry editor and reader for a few years while at MSU) emailed me about a month ago. she and two other acquaintances are starting a small press, and approached me with an offer: they want to publish a chapbook of my poems as their fifth "book". (!!!!) i'm ecstatic. i'll have complete control, i'm able to forego the entire submission/contest process, and i'm not "selling out" (as in publishing it myself, or through a vanity press). i am almost unable to believe my "luck" here, in that i was approached by a press, run by editors whose opinion and aesthetics i trust and admire. yipee! it'll be a bit before the book appears, of course; so i'll be keeping everyone posted.

* the weather, and my mood, finally broke. so, i will have some ice cream, a shower, and maybe a short nap, and then sit in the sun.

5.17.2006

what to say?

more than what i have the energy to say now, surely.

la luz is incredible.

i am exhausted. life feels heavy lately. that, i must change.

promises of more soon.

hopefully tomorrow.

5.11.2006

what a gal

this is the face evie makes when she has a fever and is watching ice age.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting


here's a list of her new words, phrases, etc.

dead bug
dirt
can i see it
laundry basket
all done
i want it


the little one has also taken to pointing to herself (i.e. finger on the chest) in her own sort of sign language...for example, pointing to an apple, then herself, while making the "huh?" noise, as if to say, "can that be for me?" so, as i didn't follow the latest parenting trend and teach her sign language (deciding instead to focus on the english language, doubly) evie has seemingly caught on quite fast to language and patterns and the like, and added in her own type of sign language to clarify. amazing.

and now, she has learned to manipulate the way she says something--she has a tender rendition of "mama", and another one for when she's spilled her milk across the kitchen tile.

the last bit of baby talk for this post: tonight my brother was playing "landslide" on the guitar; evie began singing, making up her own gibberish words and SINGING IN TUNE!!! one thing i've never been able to consistently manage, and she's showing the ability to master it already? (maybe not master, but at least accomplish...).


5.06.2006

just to finish the thought

this was the response i received from my step-great-uncle dave last night, re: my email, which i wrote about yesterday.

mind you, i correctly predicted the futility in even mentioning my disgust--i thought i'd get a sean hannity-type response, and i did. here it is:

Angela, you don't get it do you. When your 'abuelito' came from Mexico, I'm thinking it wasn't sneaking across the border. I'm also thinking that citizenship was the plan and that it was accomplished. The argument isn't with immigrants or alien's, it's with ILLEGAL immigrants or alien's. Anyone that doesn't come across legally is illegal.


If your illegal, you don't have any rights, except the right to be deported to where you came from. You don't have a right to free medical care, you don't have a right for government financial help except for transportation to where you came from, and you certainly don't have a right to demand anything.


As for the statement that they do the jobs that Americans won't do, that is right as far as it go's. If the Americans got paid a decent wage, they would do the job. There is enough work in this country for everybody that wants a job to have one. It might not be in the area that that person is in, but that doesn't mean that they can't go to another area. It also might mean that a person has to take a job that they think is below them. That's bull.


I've shoveled horse crap, scrubbed toilets, washed and pressed clothes, yes and even worked in surgery. I've run pathology departments, developed histochemical procedures, and worked as a security guard. I even developed a procedure for Technicon to run a simultaneous SGOT and SGPT. One is a liver function and the other is a cardiac function test. You know something, I've only drawn one unemployment check, and I was ashamed to do that.


The "debate" isn't over immigration, it's over ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION. Your right, if the illegals were sent back, the lines at Walmart would be so long you would have to wait an hour to buy anything. But, that would only last so long, and they would eventually hire to refill those positions. And I'll bet they would hire immigrant/alien workers that are citizen's or have entered legally. Migrant workers are not the problem. They come across legally and they usually work for the same producer. They usually send their money home and when the picking is done, they go home. If they want to become a citizen there is a proper procedure to follow.


You made mention of the fact that "minorities (Mexican-Americans especially) enlist at a greater proportion than the general (white) population and die in greater numbers, in this and every war in modern history." Angela, they were MEXICAN-AMERICANS. Not someone that sneaked across the border, be it from Mexico or Canada, or came in from one of the Asian countries illegally, or any other country for that matter. At least they thought enough of their adopted country to fight for it. They were either green carded or citizens. The same can be said for the Porto Ricans and any other race that fights in the military.


I served with Filipinos, Guamanians, Mexicans, Viet-Namise, and other nationalities. We all put our butts on the line, we all got shot at, as did your sister and as her husband is now. Some of our friends didn't make it. It pi__'s me off when some dink sneaks into this country and demands anything. They need to get the hell out and go back to where they came from.


Every country is made up of immigrants at one time or the other. It's the way that a country is formed. Even the Native Americans came across the land mass that came down from the Bering Strait. This may not be the best country in the world, but it's way ahead of whatever is in second place. We've got our problems, sure. And we'll take care of those problems, one way or the other.

Don't worry about getting anymore e-mail from me. I'll take your name out of my address book. Your a smart lady. I hope things work out for you and you are happy.


DAve





i just have to note how entertained i am by the quotations around my abuelito's name--as though (to borrow from sex and the city) allegedly that's his name. and of course the grammatical errors.

i am officially disowned by a member of my family (use of family here is subjective) for being too liberal!

the last thing i will say here is that i have gotten, on average, at least one right-wings-r-us email from this man per two days for at least the last two years. i believe, as happens in chemistry, i reached my saturation point, became "super-saturated" and fell out of solution. (if you've never seen this happen in the lab, i encourage you to try it out. it's glorious!) i know i'm not the only one who has had it "up to here" with "have it both ways" conservatives. i think the response speaks for itself in terms of vindicating my frustration and proving my point.

i wonder if i can use this on my resume as proof that i've "suffered for the cause"?

suffered is also used subjectively, as i'm still laughing.






5.05.2006

to celebrate cinco de mayo, my insensitive/ignorant relative sent me this

Please pass this on ... it says it all!
Dear President Bush:

I'm about to plan a little trip with my family and extended family, and I would like to ask you to assist me. I'm going to walk across the border from the U.S. into Mexico, and I need to make a few arrangements. I know you can help with this. I plan to skip all the legal stuff like visas, passports, immigration quotas and laws. I'm sure they handle those things the same way you do here. So, would you mind telling President Vicente Fox, that I'm on my way over? Please let him know that I will be expecting the following:

1. Free medical care for my entire family.

2. English-speaking government bureaucrats for all services I might need, whether I use them or not.

3. All government forms need to be printed in English.

4. I want my kids to be taught by English-speaking teachers.

5. Schools need to include classes on American culture and history.

6. I want my kids to see the American flag flying on the top of the flag pole at their school with the Mexican flag flying lower down.

7. Please plan to feed my kids at school for both breakfast and lunch.

8. I will need a local Mexican driver's license so I can get easy access to government services.

9. I do not plan to have any car insurance, and I won't make any effort to learn local traffic laws.

10. In case one of the Mexican police officers does not get the memo from Pres. Fox to leave me alone, please be sure that all police officers speak English.

11. I plan to fly the U.S. flag from my house top, put flag decals on my car, and have a gigantic celebration on July 4th. I do not want any complaints or negative comments from the locals.

12. I would also like to have a nice job without paying any taxes, and don't enforce any labor laws or tax laws.

13. Please tell all the people in the country to be extremely nice and never say a critical word about me, or about the strain I might place on the economy.

I know this is an easy request because you already do all these things for all the people who come to the U.S. from Mexico. I am sure that Pres. Fox won't mind returning the favor if you ask him nicely.

*****


i'd already stifled my urge to reply to every other ignorant/republican/etc. email...so i wasn't able to hold back again...and sent this:

my abuelito came from mexico as a young man. he settled in pontiac where he worked nearly his entire life for one of the big three auto makers, making the cars we all drive. he payed taxes, learned and spoke fluent english; his children went to school, graduated, spoke english, got jobs and payed taxes.



when the majority population of mexico is white, i am positive a natural outgrowth of that fact will be more english spoken and written and read. of course, we don't go to mexico for work, do we, because we won't perform any of the work our neighbors to the south do.



when you get a chance, google maquilladoras. major corporations in the us are outsourcing jobs, yes, to mexico, but it's no golden ticket. the workers at these glorified sweat shops are treated one step above slaves, but it's only a small step.



i am exasperated with the "debate" over immigration in this country. first, it isn't a debate when the vast majority of responses are ill-informed citizens spewing the same ignorant tag lines: "send them back to their country", "they're taking our jobs", "we don't go to mexico and speak english", etc etc etc.



as the protests this week showed, if we did "send them back", the lines at walmart (which so many of these folks who claim patriotism as a motivation for deporting illegal aliens) would be so long you'd have to wait an hour just to buy your diapers for a dollar less. ask my sister, it happened to her. the price of the fruits and vegetables you love--oranges, cherries, and more--would skyrocket without migrant workers, who, by the way, stay only half the year. without a substantial segment of the population willing to perform the menial, degrading and disgusting tasks necessary for a culture of excess to keep going, all the "conveniences" you don't think you're paying for you suddenly will.



i'm confused: it seems the conservatives of the country are pointing to the troubles at the big three and blaming it on the unions, saying workers have been paid too much for too long. but then along comes an entire work force willing to work for pennies on the dollar, and that's unacceptable too?



god forbid the people who work for less than most of us could even fathom surviving on should benefit from programs most of them pay into. god forbid a few free lunches or social programs are made use of when minorities (mexican americans especially) enlist at a greater proportion than the general (white) population; and die in greater numbers in this and every war in modern history.



please, when you're deciding who to forward any of this vein of correspondence to, resist the urge to add my name to the list. i let the first one go, but couldn't be quiet about this one too.


angela




the irony, of course, being that anyone i'd have this argument with would be the equivalent of a bill o'reilly or sean hannity about it--unable to have any actual opinion beyond what's being fed to them, and recycled by the same lame sources.

grrr.

no wonder my head hurts.


5.03.2006

does anyone else miss looking up into trees? i didn't, until this afternoon, when i was out playing amateur photographer.



this tree is in beautiful, full bloom in the backyard right now. it reminds me very much of the white tree of gondor (see, "angela is a huge nerd"; also, "loves the lord of the rings"). we had a full day of rain on tuesday, and the yard is just pulsing with color. much to my dad's chagrin, the grass is growing at an exponential rate, and the dandelions are multiplying like bacteria. hence my taking pictures today of the tree (which, a household survey revealed, is a "crab apple tree") and the dandelions.
i once said (many times) that my worst nightmare was to be taught, long after my death, as a "nature poet". i'm not going to give you my updated treatise on my worst nightmare in that arena of my life, but i will say that i am old enough to gaze with wonder at nature. i am deliberately using the cheesiest language i can come up with, because i feel like a cliche among cliches by acknowledging it; even the photos are cliche. oh well.
if i were a "real" (read: serious, studious, skilled) photographer, i'd do a series of different trees and bill them as portraits of daphne. but then again, i'm quite taken with the daphne myth lately, and persephone as well.

here's a thought to leave you on, until tomorrow: last night evie brought me a book i had checked out from my catechism teacher in the fifth grade. i still haven't returned it, as it's on the shelf here. (i am a real slacker.) (by the by, i love the idea of going to school on a sunday just to learn the rules and dogma of your religion--it's like seminary for toddlers; very romantic, with a capital r.) on the cover, there's an illustration of jesus, flanked by a few apostles, his mother, and another woman. the divine miss m, i suppose. la luz pointed to the Man in White and said, "daddy?" (!) i would have fallen out of my chair had i not been sitting on the floor already.

in the movie magnolia, william h. macy's character says "our fathers are our models for god", or something to that effect. is it better or worse, then, for evie to make jesus (god) the model for her father? isn't she awfully young to be developing this sort of freudian/christ/oedipal complex?

5.01.2006

new poem, finally!

this is one of the three poems i brought to diane's on saturday; it is the only one to come out finished.

i'm still looking for a better title than poem, because, let's face it, i am not frank o'hara (although i adore his work) and i can't get away with calling this poem poem; it's not that kind of poem.

POEM

for the man who drives the chariot of the sun


The truth is I loved the running:

each step
a small shadow broken by your glow,
each step taken slower than the last.

So that even now, months later,
you are breaking across me as the aurora borealis
and saying

I don’t know why I let myself go down this road
and I am thinking of Bob Dylan
singing Baby Let Me Follow You Down, of Creeley
saying O, Love, where are you leading me now;

I am not yet brave enough to ask
what it is you are chasing
when you chase after me.

I love these moments, you say, but moments like these don’t last forever.

It’s enough to make me stop, to turn and face you.
God, the terror of that instant!

And what to tell you—that now we’re immortal,

that we’ll be petrified in this moment, this tiny light-storm pulsing where you hand now rests?






i am high-brow today, aren't i? fancy that.


saturday night, i went to the poet diane wakoski's home in east lansing for a workshop/dinner/night of poetry, wine, and friends. we began having these night's with out group, the alchemists, probably about five years ago. shortly after i became pregnant, things fell off for a time, but we are now back in full force with the new alchemists. (more on the poetry later.)

and what an evening! diane had as always a bountiful supply of wine; since learning, per Saturday Night Live, that merlot was "the cheap whore of red wines" (!) i've been a little leery of drinking it. only because i don't want to appear uneducated in the matters of "finer things", i suppose.(yes, i know, i know.) anyhow, when we arrived (jen and i, our standard twenty minutes late) diane has already opened a pinot noir (i believe it was louis jardot) and the aforementioned 7 deadly zins.

i'm a fan of the pinot noir, in part because maggie brought a great bottle with her when she and ben visited last year in buffalo; in part because it's one of the tropes of the movie sideways; and also based on recommendations from other friends and family. however, on diane's recommendation, i tried the zinfandel, and absolutely loved it! i insist the next time you buy a bottle of wine, you pick it up. we also had a second zin that evening, earth zin and fire. again, delicious. if only for the clever play on words and 70s funk icons, try either or both.

a side note: these are of the "real" zinfandel variety, the red wine less popular than its cheaper cousin (from alabama), white zinfandel.

should you choose to pick up either wine, have a glass while reading diane wakoski's collection the butcher's apron, in which each poem celebrates and invokes food and drink.