The River of Light

 

Empyrean has published a poem of mine in their latest issue. It is called "Working Around the Policy." You can read it here. Or here. Or here.

First is Not the Worst

New poems in the first edition of Flora Fiction.  Don't let the name fool you, there's plenty of poems in the journal. The second one is an older piece of work. I wrote it for a creative writing class at NYU. I don't remember what the specifics of the assignment were, but I used them to produced a work about the sights and sounds of Washington Square Park.

Finds and Observations 6/24 to 6/26

I hope by making it small enough, it isn't obscene.

Room in Rome is a terrible fucking movie. Literally. I looked it up on Wikipedia and surprise, surprise, a movie about Lesbians that fails to stimulate, educate, or even titillate was made by a man. Not only that, the same man, wrote, produced, directed, and EDITED the film. So there was no one reining him in. He was probably the caterer too. It wasn't even filmed in Rome!

I found a few interesting things in the city yesterday. The first was a twenty year old syllabus for a film studies class at NYU. I came across it at a Goodwill. It was tucked inside of a tome on film criticism. It is interesting to read because it shows how just a few years ago everything was different for students. There was no internet, no DVDs, and no expectation of using a computer and printer. In one assignment, the professor, Joy Gould Boyum, tells the students to keep the carbons because they won't get their essay back until the end of the semester. Carbons! I could also tell the syllabus was originally typewritten then xeroxed. The smudges on the letters give it away. Since the class was in 1996, I imagine she got twenty papers on Pulp Fiction for the final.

Oh, so much progress we've made since then! On the other hand we still have a Clinton running for president.

I also found a ticket for Eastern Airlines tucked inside of a book the library was selling for a dollar. The book looked like a Dave Barry knockoff, a lament by one of the early baby-boomers about how Elvis was great and the Beatles ruined everything in a frothy over the top style that hides a serious bitter core. Anyway, the ticket was at least 25 years old since the airline went out of business in 1991. What I found fascinating was the lack of personal information on the ticket. There was no name, nothing. Anybody could've used it to board a plane.

Ah, the innocence that was pre-9/11 America. I'm starting to sound like the author...

And finally, the final find. A kid's book by Eugene Ionesco.

Shit, I Need to Post Some Updates and Links

I've been a bit of a dandy these past few months

Wow, it's been too long since I shared what's been going on. Well, there's work that's been published and work that I'm willing to share. Here's where you can find them:

Crab Fat Magazine

two poems loaded onto In Flight Literary Magazine

and a poem in Birds Piled Loosely

Also, I've decided to move back to New York City. I don't know any of the details yet, such as the when and where. But I do know the why and the what. The how...also a mystery at this point. I need a new start. Arlington has burnt me out and I'm tired of running around in the wilderness, trying to make the highways straight for a literary revolution.

Here's a Picture of the New Pope

Francis I, long may he reign!

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I had a lengthy poem of mine just published in Quail Bell, which has featured poems by me before and some short fiction as well.  This work was based off some pictures the editor, Christine Stoddard, showed me. They were taken by Stephen Palke. Each stanza corresponds to a photograph from the set. Start with the first one and then go to the bottom. Once there, go from the left to the right through both rows. I started simply projection and eventually took on the view of a hypothetical photographer who might have taken these pictures. If anything I wrote makes the real photographer look bad, I grant him permission to take pictures of people who look like they might have written other poems of mine.

Also, I stumbled upon some poems of mine on what appears to be an Italian website. Che Bella!

A Moment for James Garfield

While you all are busy celebrating Independence Day here in the United States, Bahia, or Belarus, take a moment to reflect on poor old James Abram Garfield, who was shot on this date in 1881 by Charles Guiteau.

Apparently, Garfield (who had the second shortest presidency after William Henry Harrison) would've been one of our better presidents if he had lived. Nevertheless, he appointed more Supreme Court Justices than presidents Carter, Taylor, or Johnson. President Garfield argued for a bi-metal monetary system, modernizing agriculture, educating the electorate, and greater civil rights for African Americans. He also proposed civil service reform to decrease the number of jobs filled due to political patronage. However it was not until his assassination that these reforms would get the necessary push to be passed. Charles Guiteau, who had expected a job in the government for supporting the Republican Party's nominee, took out his frustrations by shooting Garfield. The president would later die of his wounds on September 19th.  

Before being featured in the musical Assassins, Charlie inspired a folk song about his exploits:

On an unrelated note, today is also the 140th anniversary of the fall of Rome to the Italian Army.

The Job Hunt Resumes

I have now returned back to Arlington, Virginia from Italy. It was an interesting experience.

We got into the mood as you can see and really absorbed the local culture and customs. We were determined to fit in and not look like tourists. I even got into a debate with Nietzschean aquatic nymph. Or maybe it was Mark Twain.

And then the former pope John Paul II knocked some sense into me.

I thought it was for this at first:

I didn't care if the Colosseum really held Rome together. But it turns out he was angry with me for being slothful, one of the seven deadly sins. So, I made my confession and swore to find employment of the gainful nature.

You can read about the vow here at my side project, I Don't Want to Be a Manchild.

On an unrelated note, here is a poem by Tom Savage I found amusing. If any of you readers want to send me things to check out and post, whether by you or your loved ones, let me know. I'm always looking to add content.