Friday, December 4, 2009

Weekend on the Farm

Fog...hard to take a picture of

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

A Time to Give

Who wants to give a goat for Christmas? I'd rather give my money to the arts organizations I love.

Duotrope Digest is a wonderful free resource for all us struggling writers out there. They offer an extensive database of print and electronic publications to which you can submit your precious poems and fine fiction. In addition, they give users access to a free submission tracking service, and recently they have added small presses who are looking for the next big thing in publishing. Duotrope relies on donations in order to keep going, and if you have ever used their service, you should give a little something.

The PEN Center USA, and its east coast companion, the PEN American Center, are organizations committed to the freedom of speech and the fostering of marginalized voices throughout the world. A membership will help support their prizes and causes, and will give you access to their writing community, publications, and special events.

Local Sacramentans can attend the Sacramento Poetry Center's 30th Anniversary Celebration tonight from 6 to 8. Your $30 donation will get you in the door for a night chock full of food and drink, frivolity and fun. Teresa Vinciguerra and Danyen Powell will read poetry and music will be provided by the American River College Vocal Jazz Quartet.

Is your wallet yawning after all that giving? Well, charity doesn't have to cost a dime. For those of you with a Facebook account, consider voting for Dzanc Books in this contest sponsored by Chase. Dzanc is a small press dedicated to new and emerging voices, and to growing a literary community from the ground up through grant programs. They are in the running for some well-needed funds, which Chase happens to be giving away. The organization with the most votes gets the money...it's that easy.

Monday, November 30, 2009

I Left My Heart In...

Fourteen Hills 16.1 Release Party

Wednesday, Dec 16 7:00p
at San Francisco Motorcycle Club, San Francisco, CA

Join us for the Fall 2009 release of Fourteen Hills, San Francisco State University's International Literary Magazine.

Readings by: Stephen Elliott, Katie Cappello, Rhea DeRose-Weiss, Rae Freudenberger, Austin LaGrone, Gregory Mahrer, Gabrielle Meyers, Marcus Pactor, Sarah Cohen Powell, Marc Stone

Fabulous Raffle Prizes by: Periscope Cellars Winery, Mercury Cafe, Under One Roof, Four Star Video, 222 Hyde, Jewish Theatre SF, Half Price Books, Omnibucket, Dark Garden and many many more!

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Workshop: I'm Making a List...

We're all making lists this time of year: lists of what we're thankful for, what we want for the holidays, what we'll do different in the next year. Then there are the little remembered everyday lists, which can be just as important. The grocery list for Thanksgiving dinner. The list of to-do's before the family arrives to visit. The invite list for a New Year's party. The list of stores to hit pre-sunrise on Black Friday. The list...yes, I said it...goes on and on.

Which makes me think of list poems. Whitman was a master of these, with his "Out of the cradle endlessly rocking, Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle,/Out of the ninth-month midnight," etc. Other contemporary poets who have tackled the list poem include C.D. Wright, Jorie Graham, and Lynn Emmanuel.

But what makes a list poem a poem, and not simply a list? Metaphorical leaps in logic and imagistic language are musts, as well as attention to the musicality of the line. Try this: begin each line the same way. You can use Whitman's "Out of..." or another broad phrase (into... if you... what I mean is...). Then complete the line. Over and over. As many times, and in as many different ways as you can. You can also try describing something using this list technique (The city like... The desert is... My wife with...).

Don't worry in the initial drafting about perfection. The key to a good list poem is the cutting and revising afterwards. Then, and only then, after you have something to work with, can you make a poem out of a list. But whatever you do, don't write a poem starting with "I'm thankful for..." Save that for the dinner table or holiday card.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Movie Monday: Bloody, Indeed

Now, I know you are all avid followers of the blog authored by Nigel Sheinwald, the British Ambassador to the U.S. But for those of you who happened to miss it, I would like to direct you to his recent post on the strange case of British actors playing vampires in American film. The list includes favorites such as Stephen Moyer from True Blood and Gary Oldman as uber-vamp Dracula. Of course, the esteemed ambassador missed a few, including Stuart Townsend as an admittedly forgettable Lestat in Queen of the Damned. Any other blood-sucking Brits you can think of?

Rather than delve too deeply into the psychology at work behind this trend, the ambassador chooses to cheer the inspiration of British talent on American art. But really, you gotta wonder why this is. The boyfriend suggests that, because Great Britian is older than the U.S.A., and because vampires are, usually, much older than humans, the two are a perfect match.

Then, there is the morphing of the vampire legend. Vamps are no longer alien-like creatures, or strangely dressed immigrants from Central Europe. They are now (thanks to Buffy the Vampire Slayer) sexy, desireable, loveable even. And a British accent complements the smooth sensuality of this new type of vampire much better than, say, a Brooklyn accent. Which reminds me, has anyone else seen A Vampire in Brooklyn, in which Eddie Murphy gives us his version of a Carribean vampire? Hey, the Carribean was once part of the British Empire, right? Well, there you go.

Friday, November 20, 2009

It's Friday, I'm in Love

With:

wtf pwm

scarves and tights

this bike on a chain

bootie slippers

glee

chili and cornbread

Roseanne and Bruce

birthday pie

big hair

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

A Not-Really-Review: Wicked by Gregory Maguire

Swinging the green blanket around her shoulders, she pulled her dog into her lap and bowed her head beneath a fold, hiding from the adverse elements: the fog, the wickedly wet cold that somehow passed through the heaviest of fabrics to chill her skin. She knew the crows outside (or were they Crows?) would continue their incessant cawing, but here she was safe, in her own little self-induced hermitage. She would outlive this winter yet.


The Not-Really Book Club meets monthly in Sacramento.