Accommodatingly

Two extraordinarily talented recent Mac grads with poetry-related publications: Rebecca Porte reviews some poetry for the Star-Tribune. And Linnea Ogden has prose poetry in the new Gulf Coast.

The same issue also includes fiction by Peter Bognanni, a slightly less recent Mac grad who will be teaching fiction-writing and screenwriting here in ‘06-07. With his acceptance, our complete slate of visiting English instructors, lecturers, and whatnot will be in place for next year. At last! My irritation at how long this process took– with me in charge of it, yet– is more than balanced out by my delight with the smart people we’ve ended up hiring: I hope next year’s English majors agree.

TIME-SENSITIVE POLITICAL UPDATE: Kos explains why today is the day to give money to a Dem, especially a challenger (rather than an incumbent), if you have anything at all to give. Minnesota has a Senate race, among other contests that might interest you if you live where we do; Connecticut residents who don’t want to get involved in a Dem primary should consider helping Diane Farrell unseat outmoded, outdated Republican “moderate” Chris Shays.

Available now: Shot Clocks: Poems and an Essay for the WNBA. Poems and essay by Steve, design by Jessie, publishing by Mike’s way-cool Harry Tankoos imprint. (You can order it by clicking the link, or, if you know us personally, by, you know, contacting us.)

…online after the rest of the household goes to bed, especially when there’s no WNBA game televised:

Lisa Robertson scrutinizes the author of The Story of O: “Who consents to the dissolution of personhood inside a cult of authority?….In my own pornographic experience I accept the imperceptible harnesses.” I haven’t read The Story of O. I did read the new Chicago Review with its giant-size portfolio of works by and about Robertson.

Meghan O’Rourke defends Linda Hirshman. Meghan says: “Praising the man who comes home at 6, while worrying about a mother who has part-time job, is simple sexism…. Until those who care about equality recognize that it will take collective action to create further change, the kinds of policy amendments most women want to see won’t take place, and women will continue doing 70 percent of the housework—while men continue to do less housework after marriage than they did as bachelors.”

Jenny Davidson on everything.

Clay Kallam on basketball talent.

And Douglas, who can make anything interesting.

(And if you are someone who reads half of each week’s New Yorker, dig up last week’s and read the essay on dessert, which I imagine comes from Bill Buford’s new restaurant book. It’s for people who like Anthony Bourdain. I like him. Jessie interviewed him.)

Offline, I’m also reading– slowly– Villette, mostly because Laura Engel both recommended it to me, and edited it. It’s neither Jane Eyre nor Middlemarch but it’s smart, moving, and attention-retaining so far.

And if you are wondering how the father of a five-month old is managing to read anything while both getting academic work done and doing my share of the basic tasks of tending to the world’s cutest baby ever child care, you might ask yourself: what makes you think I’m getting much academic work done? (Or, more darkly: what makes you think I’m performing the basic tasks of child care? –Not that I can tell, but I think I’m at 35% now that school’s out. 45% would be great. Such things are hard to measure.)

Files are not for sharing.

Two upcoming events where I will read poetry, one political, one basketball-related:

1. I’m reading for LitPac on July 20 at the Kitty Kat Club in Minneapolis. I’m opening for, among others, Al Franken. Also on the bill: Ed Bok Lee, Sheila Heti, Stephen Elliott, and Thisbe Nissen, whose short stories I like a lot (I haven’t yet read her novel). LitPac uses writers to raise money for Dems. They’re a force for good.

2. I’m reading before the Lynx game on Tuesday, August 1, at the Target Center (where the Lynx play), to promote both Parallel Play and Shot Clocks, my new chapbook, which should be available early July (use this link to preorder it if you like). I’ll post here again when the book actually arrives. I’ll likely be reading, or talking, or something, alongside Jayda Evans, who has a new book (of prose) about the Seattle Storm.

We’re back again, this time for the rest of the summer. Well, most of the rest of the summer. Our raspberry canes are blooming (they’re also full of bugs, but that’s why we rinse fresh fruit). Nathan seems to like hanging out with our cats again, though he also seems to regard his comfy, rock-steady car seat as his true home– he fell asleep easily in it today after refusing to sleep in his swing.

We’re gonna leave the house to see our Lynx play, we’re going to visit our friends’ houses now and again, and I’m going to spend some time in my office cleaning up the accumulated work and clutter from two months spent mostly out of town.

Other than that, however, we’re going to enjoy our house and garden, a lot, and nobody’s gonna drag us away. No kidding. Get in touch if you want to see us soon… as long as you’re not asking us to leave town.

* Just a few days home after four weeks away reminds me how much I like our house, and how much I like simply having a house, a home, to which Jessie and I, and now Nathan, can return.

I used to think I’d be delighted to live a Paul Erdös-like existence, zipping around several continents visiting friends, reviewing books and writing verse. I no longer think that. I imagine I’ll feel just as good about whatever home we get when and if we outgrow this one. For now I really dig the miniature hanging nautical lanterns Jessie found and placed at the strategic corners of our garden.

* I just got a big box of stuff from a federal agency (good stuff, stuff I wanted and expected) in Washington, DC. How did they choose to send their big box of stuff? Through the U.S. Mail, with its much-touted, Lance Armstrong-like reliability and speed?

Nope: FedEx. I like to think that a Gore administration would have used USPS express mail, but I doubt it.

* Finally, now, each week brings a handful of WNBA games on NBATV, whether or not the Lynx are also playing home games which we can actually attend. I miss the WNBA each fall and celebrate its first few weeks by watching at least a segment from even the crappy games (e.g. last night’s messy Indiana-Washington matchup) whenver I can. I’m rather glad that neither of the teams in the men’s NBA finals are teams I care about: I’m watching enough hoops right now as it is. But I wish that the one WNBA team that gets all its games televised were not, this year, the second-worst in the league.

* Bits from Wallace Stevens’ letters, highlighted in an essay within the current PN Review: “I am one of the many people around the world who live from time to time in a Paris that has never existed and that is composed of the things that other people, primarily Parisians themselves, have said about Paris….

“In what sense do I live in America if I walk to and fro to the office day after day?”

* Nathan has a new favorite joke: “WhAAAAt are you doing?” (said with a long, loud, A). No one knows why this is funny.

* A distinguished twentieth-century poet known for his, or her, work in rhyming forms wrote a poem about hens and eggs in hendecasyllabics (eleven-syllable lines, associated with Catullus). I thought it was Frost, but it’s not. Anyone know who it is?

shiny legume

Originally uploaded by Jessie and Steve.

Chicago’s Millenium Park–Cloud Gate sculpture.

This photo has the following distortionate effect:

1. My boobs look even bigger
2. My legs look even shorter
3. Nathan looks much tinier than he is.

Different perspectives on the sculpture here and here.

We’re home. I’m exhausted, Nathan’s sleeping, Steve is, as usual, neck deep in some administrative bull-oney and still energetic long after I’ve hit the wall. Our cats are still adorable, my flowers (in no small part due to Juli doing some killer gardening while I was gone) look amazing, and our house is beautiful.

I can’t imagine ever being away from home for that long again. I feel so disjointed right now, in a haze and disconnected from my environment and half expecting to get in the car again tomorrow and drive long distances. I imagine I’ll dream of highway signs and yellow lines.