Common Projectors

Mercy, mean week is almost over.

"When younger," said he, "I believed myself destined for some great enterprise. My feelings are profound, but I possessed a coolness of judgment that fitted me for illustrious achievements. This sentiment of the worth of my nature supported me when others would have been oppressed, for I deemed it criminal to throw away in useless grief those talents that might be useful to my fellow creatures. When I reflected on the work I had completed, no less a one than the creation of a sensitive and rational animal, I could not rank myself with the herd of common projectors. But this thought, which supported me in the commencement of my career, now serves only to plunge me lower in the dust."

from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, p. 233, Vol II, Chapter 18.

Riding an Elevator into the Sky
Anne Sexton

As the fireman said:
Don't book a room over the fifth floor
in any hotel in New York.
They have ladders that will reach further
but no one will climb them.
As the New York Times said:
The elevator always seeks out
the floor of the fire
and automatically opens
and won't shut.
These are the warnings
that you must forget
if you're climbing out of yourself
If you're going to smash into the sky.

Many times I've gone past
the fifth floor,
cranking upward,
but only once
have I gone all the way up.
Sixtieth floor:
small plants and swans bending
into their grave.
Floor two hundred:
mountains with the patience of a cat,
silence wearing its sneakers.
Floor five hundered:
messages and letters centuries old,
birds to drink,
a kitchen of clouds.
Floor six thousand:
the stars,
skeletons on fire,
their arms singing.
And a key,
a very large key,
that opens something-
some useful door-
somewhere-
up there.

malicious gossip and talking nonsense

My friend Byron showed this to me: the best Tumblr site I've ever been exposed to. The authors pair screenshots from current and/or iconic American TV shows and movies (the Buffy musical episode, for instance) with appropriate literary quotes from freakishly diverse authors--Margaret Atwood, Sarah Vowell, Ray Bradbury and Miranda July, just to name a few.

As a quick for instance, this quote appears:

“It was SHE. Whoever has loved knows all the radiant meaning contained in the three letters of this word ‘she.’”
— Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

beneath a screenshot of Stan from Southpark approached by a girl on whom he harbors a painful crush, but whose mere presence makes him vomit.

And this Jane Austen quote:

"From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but I am now convinced.”
— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

appears beneath a screencap of a news story about ex governor Sarah Palin and some blonde whose name and importance, it gives me great pleasure to announce, I have completely forgotten.

The quotes are enlightening, the images are fun, but the interplay between the two offers a succinct and entertaining shortcut into the authors' personalities and opinions on art, literature, pop culture, and politics.

HYP 2009 Wrap Up

Duff's was stuffed by 7:15 last night. I kicked off the event, the last HYP of the season, with a reading from Mathias Svalina's chapbook, "Creation Myth" (the one with the knock knock joke). Get that book; I've made 3 people read it so far and everyone agrees it's the smartest silliness out there. A slideshow of images from all three readings is in the works, so check back later in the week.

I'm crazy-proud of everyone who read this summer. If you or someone you know wants to be considered for the 2010 season, I just need an e-mail with a 3 line bio, 3 sample poems, and one embarrassing or unusual fact about yourself.

Photog Excursion, summer 2009

I got shot in the thigh by a one-eyed carnie with a BB gun, but it was totally worth it for Laine to capture these pictures.


Jesus recommends the sugar free black walnut taffy.


Butter young Abe Lincoln sat near the butter cow, who was kept company by an anatomically correct butter cat, complete with butter anus.


Innocuous as it may be, you just don't want to see President Obama hanging by his neck across the midway from the booth selling confederate flags.



The GOD MOBILE.

NYC Missed Connections Poegle #227

Lemon tree, very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet, but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.---Peter, Paul and Mary

for Les Paul

You were wearing the blue
and white checked toga
at the Queens Museum.

I begged a second audience
but you were going back to Scotland,
and now you're on my floor.

Six doors down and I don't
have the energy to call you
on your less-unlearned lie.

O Queen of Scandals
with your Frieda Kahlo tattoo,
stop wishing, long shot:

I will go to Julie and Julia
with you if you pay.

Grody Boys and Giggly Girls in the ERA of Poetry

Had an entertaining Twitter conversation (I know, right?) regarding male:female publishing records in online and print lit mags. Nate Pritts, Anne Boyer, Elisa Gabbert, Jessica Smith, Reb Livingston and Katy Henriksen talked seriously about gender neutrality in publication while I provided provocative innuendo and lascivious snorting. Maybe it was because the girls outnumbered the boys six to one, but the debate stayed lively and cordial and no one had a cow and stormed off to cry in the ladies. Hearts and minds were changed, life-long dreams were rescued, and Nate is going to publish every female who submits to H_ngm_n from now on.

[update: In which Nate crunches numbers, Reb Livingston offers comment, and Daniel Nester crosses Reb Livingston like he doesn't know she carries a switchblade in her apron pocket.]

In other news:

A well-done poem about hangovers.

And Shane Jones' Light Boxes is picked up by Penguin.

I'm off to archivally-shrink wrap my first edition copy of the book and then huddle in a corner with the anxious notion that everything obscure and awesome will get optioned for film and widely distributed. On second thought, I have a lot more shrink wrapping to do.

chapbooks never let your lips go naked

Chapbook Saturday tomorrow and I'm running down to Stirrup Pants to get my monthly haul. My pal Aimee Leavitt's RFT write-up on the store here. I wish Maggie G. could let us know what will be there, for planning purposes, but I suppose that might keep me from buying every book I touched. They are so nice to touch.

Tonight (Friday, August 7th) on Cherokee, from 7-11 p.m., Cranky Yellow, the host of popular shows "Crap Glued to Crap" and the Kitten Circus, features "Meth and Hot Dogs" for your viewing pleasure.

Also, Monday, the 17th is the August Hungry Young Poets--the last one of the summer. This season has been phenomenal so far, and there's no doubt August will kick ass, too. We've got Travis Mossotti, Lauren Keefer, Heath Luster, Julie Goldberg, Laura Dempsey and Annah Browning. Plus, our musical guest star, Prune! I like to think their name is a verb and not a noun, but they're pretty moving, either way. Duff's, 7:30, $3.00.

...and now back to pondering the concept of absence in 21st Century America.