Swatting at swarms of bees

Just when I thought this month would be spent in leisure, things change. For one, have finally decided to concretize my October visit to the US — will spend some time with the sister in CA (drinking in Napa Valley at the topmost of our to-do list) and some time with Valerie in PA to promote our book (she mentioned bar readings being more fun since we could drink). There's some kind of single-mindedness about this trip, but I can't put my finger on it while holding an empty glass.

The bees that A has been killing lately —


• Finalized Bundles book cover. Ain't it gorgeous?!! The painting, Kindred Spirits is used with the kind permission of Pamela Hill/dzaet. The mss, on the other hand, is still in the process of preparation — the 8 x 5 page size rather messed up with our longish lines, so we're editing a bit to give the aesthetics more bite. Who said men are the only ones who've got length problems?

• Spent an evening, drink in hand, recording two poems for Dirty Napkin (see below).

• Answered interview questions for E-Learning Queen in an orderly and concise manner that shouldn't betray the percentage of alcohol in my blood.

• Exercised the right to vote for the first time in my life and as Italian citizen. Yay!

• Finally updated my site, Valerie's and Leonard's.

• E-mailed around to request permission from people whose works I quoted in my other book (see below again).

• Buzzed noisily around TPM April 2008 issue and Press 1 May 2008 issue.

• And before all the bees broke loose, finished modding Guild 2 to suit my evil deeds — like beguiling the opposite sex so they vote for me in elections or not going to prison after murdering someone in cold blood.

Recent acceptances:

• Cinnamon Press accepted my book-length manuscript, Seeing Birds in Church is a Kind of Adieu. Wheeeeee!

After accepting my poems for Envoi, the editor hinted that she'd like to look at a full-length manuscript for possible publication under Cinnamon Press. It was really good timing because I had the ex-Lean Season mss in my Outbox just waiting for revision and for me to decide where to send it.

Publication date is scheduled for March 2010. Hee. Just thinking about it gives me Alzheimer's. But it does leave me ample time to track down people whose work I've quoted in the book... people like Robert Frost and Tolkien who —erm— happen to be dead, but whose estate might want us to pay a fee for the usage. Good grief. This rather cures me of wanting to quote anyone dead or famous in my poems ever again.

However, the husband put it another way to me: Since we will be selling the book, and theoretically, aiming to earn from the sales, it seems only ethically correct to pay for the usage of someone else's line on the basis that we are getting leverage from it and the famous person's name. Kind of sounds better and more logical in Italian, but there it is.

     Manuscript e-mailed: 4 March 2008
     Reply date: 31 March 2008

• Dirty Napkin accepted two poems, The 37th Secret Love Poem and (hehe) This dirty napkin for their Summer issue, due out on 21 June 2008.

Really adore this 'zine — very nice professional manners and terrific poetry. They've also got a cool online submission system where you can track your work and also withdraw them (if needed). On acceptance, they request a recording of your work — if you're not equipped, they'll do it with you over the phone.

     Submission sent: 14 March 2008
     Reply date: 14 April 2008

Recent publications:

• Have three poems — Self-Portrait with Umbrella, A Warning about Attachments and Wu Jin Contemplates the Tattoo on a Soft Cheek — in the third issue of Mascara.

• My copies (2) of Georgetown Review arrived this morning. Because the FedEx guy woke me up, at first I thought I was dreaming. They accepted my work two years ago, after all.

One of my poems, The 4th Secret Love Poem may be read online. I can't believe they've got my name wrong on the webpage after getting it right four times in the print journal. It's like a rock waiting to fall. Some days ago a TPM contributor addressed me as Dear Ariene. I tell you, it's a conspiracy. Either that or my name's a finger-twister for typists.

Recently received:

• Craig Kirchner's Roomful of Navels. Wrote one of the blurbs at the back, so I'm rather biased about loving this book. Sample poems in this terrific collection may be found at Lily, Mannequin Envy, No Tell Motel and SNR Review.

Writing poetry may be hazardous to your health

It's been proven, according to this Guardian article by Marc Abrahams (courtesy of the Normalcy Count Department who shared the good news to her fellow 30:30ers).

It's one of the reasons I was so freakin' happy to finish my 11th round in 30:30 yesterday.

Am taking a break now for a week or two because (1) primal energies need to focus on selecting poems for the April TPM, (2) Press 1 requires all four eyes to get its ass into HTML, (3) I have video games to play [stated in the tone of I have mouths to feed] and (4) it seems a good idea to live longer... if only for the simple pleasure of watching my face — in the mirror, in the toilet bowl, in the dentist's eyes — turn green with drink.

Recent publications:

• Just got word that Carousel 22 is "f-i-n-a-l-l-y competed [sic] and in-hand and will be appearing in stores starting this week!" Hee. Couldn't resist quoting that. I get all ticklish when it comes to typos and grammatical errors as long as they aren't mine.

Anyway, this is one stunning print journal — with no-holds-barred full-color cover and pages. The poetry, fiction and artwork are delish, too. Very eclectic tastes — they seem to like mainstream and experimental in equal parts.

• My poem, twenty-four : sawdust is now up in Sidebrow. There's only one smiley for that —>

Recently received:

• PN Review 180. Yep, in a moment of weakness, I actually subscribed. It's a UK-based print journal, A4-sized and flat-spined, which publishes poetry, reports, reviews and articles in more or less equal portions. I was particularly bowled over by Robin Maconie's article, The Way of Music: Aural Training for the Internet Generation. It's ticklish, weird, thought-provoking and... well, it's got a dog in it. Here's an excerpt:

From Book Two: Walking the Dog

1
A dog barks: Woof! Woof!
When a dog barks, there are usually two parts, a Bow and a Wow. A repeated action such as this is a basic indicator that the source of the sound is a living creature and not a random natural event. Here is a proverb: 'A tree falls only once.' Some natural sounds repeat, like a bouncing table-tennis ball or a dripping faucet. In that event we hear the sounds not as a random event, but as an organised process.

4
If you can hear it, then you can hear.
The world of sound is a picture in constant renewal. Sounds come and go. Our eyes tell us that the environment stays in place and is always complete; but for those who cannot see, the real world is a constantly-changing mosaic of momentary impressions. The more dependent we are on the sense of hearing, the more appreciative we are of what we hear.

5
In a bark, a dog exists.
In identifying a disturbance as a dog barking, the listener in effect 'calls the dog into existence'. The notion of a revealed reality is the underlying meaning of the bible creation myth.

• Sogyal Rinpoche's The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. I'm still in the initial pages — it arrived last Saturday — but I'm loving it. I rather wish I'd read it before my parents passed away because, apart from teaching one how to understand death, it also gives advice on how to help/accompany the dying in the passage between life and death.

Thank you for this book, Liz!!

And more importantly [hee], thanks to the Amazon.com box, I've finally kicked away my old-sneakers-faux-nightstand. Due to the weight of my books, they've gotten all squashed and unbalanced, and it was more difficult by the night to keep everything from sliding to the filthy floor. I was seriously thinking about putting some back to their shelves. However, with Liz's box, I now get to clear the matrimonial bed and pile up to 30 books nightly in the box in less than a minute — which means less time spent watching the husband at the corner of my eyes roll his eyes and make lurid signs that have to do with one foot tapping.

HAPPY EASTER!!

Hope everyone has a great time today. Because of an outbreak of flu in my sis-in-law's family and a morbid fear of contagion from the husband's parents, we've decided to skip celebrating Easter this year. Instead we'll be spending some time with friends in the country for Easterette (the day after Easter) — which is still a holiday... probably based on the Italian tradition to stuff oneself so much with food and drink that one requires a whole day-after to recover from one's excesses.

After catching up on my sleeping yesterday, my right tonsil has returned to its normal size. Like any day laborer, it goes on strike when it works overtime. It particularly favors acting up during festivities — to provoke the worst bother possible. Nasty bit of goods.

A couple of Easter quizzes:

What does your Chocolate Easter Bunny Eating Habits say about you? My Easter Bunny Personality

You are friendly, optimistic, and kind hearted. You don't have a harsh word for anyone. [You reserve that for your body parts.] You cheerfully live your life with little complaining or suffering. You are creative and artistic. You live in your own inner world. You live your life freely, without guilt or restrictions. And you would never feel bad about eating too much chocolate!

And where there's the Easter Bunny, there's also Liquor Sunday!!

What Alcoholic Drink Are You? I am Whiskey You're a tough drinker, and you take it like a man. That means no girly drinks for you - even if you are a girl. You prefer a cold, hard drink at the end of the day. Every day, in fact. And make that a few.

Recent whatabouts of A — for the curious

Apart from doing a schizophrenic marathon called 30:30 and my TPM/Press 1 duties, I am also guilty of such oddities:

• The mercy-killing (through viral infection) and eventual resuscitation of my laptop. Because it got rid of programs and files I wanted to get rid off but didn't have the heart to remove.

• On my way to yoga class, I allowed myself to be picked up by a strange man, and later, gave him a full-body massage. Teehee.

It's actually a lot less interesting than that, but it's way too ticklish not to write about in public. The guy's actually someone I know (not biblically, sorry to disappoint) in yoga class. The ayurveda massage was part of the yoga class — which involved a lot of kicking on the fella's arms and legs, who took it lying down. All very boring. Of course, afterwards I made it a point to ask how it was for him.

• Have discovered a new use for old sneakers: When positioned correctly, they act as a second night stand and can safely balance up to 20 poetry books. When performed every night for three years in order to allow bed space for a spouse, it may actually lead to enlightenment.

• Yoganidrasana, or the Yogic Sleep Pose (see pic below) seems to be part of my default setup. The keyword no doubt is sleep. Program anything with the word "sleep" in it and my body will see it to completion.


• Revised a collection of 70 poems in one day. Tentative title moved from Lean Season to Seeing Birds in Church is a Kind of Adieu. Probably the result of reading too much spam mail that say I've got length problems.

• Took pictures of myself as requested by the 34th Parallel editors. Nothing topless — sorry to disappoint again. And even if, you'd still need a magnifying lens to see what I've got... only on a cloudy day, too — or you'd end up with stuff that look like dead ants.


Recent acceptances:

• Was thrilled to receive an acceptance note from Envoi that they're accepting three poems: Fallen, Glass and Hush for Issue 150.

This is one of the most gorgeous print journals I've ever had the pleasure of stroking... uh, I meant reading. If you non-aliens out there send stuff now, we can be in the same issue together — the response time remains quick and easy.

Submission sent: 4 March 2008
Reply date: 11 March 2008

• Also received an acceptance form letter from the 34th Parallel editors who are interested in publishing my poem, Time with Frieda in their next issue.

Submission sent: 12 February 2008
Reply date: 16 March 2008

My multiple selves are currently on their hands and knees for —

Ilya Kaminsky's Dancing in Odessa. This is such a gorgeous collection — one of those books that make you stare at the ceiling all night thinking if there's a god, there's my god.

Here's an excerpt from his longish poem, Praise:

A woman asks at night for a story with a happy ending.
I have none. A refugee,

I go home and become a ghost
searching houses I lived in. They say —

the father of my father of his father of his father was a prince
who married a Jewish girl

against the Church's will and his father's will and
the father of this father. Losing all,

eager to lose: the estate, ships,
hiding this ring (his wedding ring), a ring

my father handed to my brother, then took. Handed,
then took, hastily. In a family album

we sit like the mannequins
of school children

whose destruction,
like a lecture is postponed.

Then my mother begins to dance, re-arranging
this dream. Her love

is difficult; loving her is simple as putting raspberries
in my mouth.

On my brother's head: not a single
gray hair, he is singing to his twelve-month-old son.

And my father is singing
to his six-year-old silence.

This is how we live on earth, a flock of sparrows.
The darkness, a magician, finds quarters

behind our ears. We don't know what life is,
who makes it, the reality is thick

with longing. We put it up to our lips
and drink.

7 Going to Day 8

Only 21 more poems/days to go through.

I'd be having more fun in 30:30 if it weren't for the need to come up with a poem daily — which is getting more morbid by the hour. I've always had an unhealthy interest in death, but something tells me I'm way past that. Catching up on Pushing Daisies every day doesn't help either. It tickles really well though.

Anyway, the whole girl wagon is there: Annie, Brenda, Liz, Sarah, Sharon... and guess what the squid inked in: Mary-Nicole!! Depending on the kind of nuts you eat and/or the quality of your weed, we're either the Seven Virtues or the Seven Deadly Sins. Maybe 50/50 of the Seven-Year-Itch.

Recent and not-so-recent publications:

• My copy of Painted Bride Quarterly has arrived!! I'm a pirate! I'm a pirate! More on that in a while.

• Am so bunny-thrilled to announce that the ticklish story Valerie and I wrote ages ago, I have names for the ways they twitch their ears: The story of one man's flight from his wife's rabbits is now up in the March 2008 issue of Admit2.

This is actually a kind of continuation of our first published story in Edifice Wrecked, Nature Hates a Vacuum. Have gotten Richard-obsessed after that.

• Ooops, kept forgetting to note that I've got three poems in the January 2008 issue of SUB-LIT: So What If You Love Your Migraine Like a Second Coming, Eve and A Night in the Suburbs (a Richard poem).

Various links which might or might not be of interest:

• I was asked to help spread the word about KUDOS, a newsletter run by Carole Baldock (editor of Orbis) which publishes "current UK writing competitions plus an increasing number of Overseas contests. Also includes news items and information about markets, outlets and opportunities for all kinds of writing."

• If you're having trouble sticking to 30 poems for 30 days, APW Project may be your thing! The deal here is to write 100 poems within 365 days — you're allowed to play hooky for a few days. After that... I think it's in John's default setup to let you have it. Hee.

• If you like writing prompts, you might like to subscribe to the Red Morning Press newsletter. This free newsletter is bi-weekly and states — get this: "If this newsletter doesn't inspire you to become a better writer after twelve months, then I'll send you a free copy of any book from Red Morning Press' catalog."

• And a small note about Blueline forum — because that's where I've declared an all-out war against spammers. Registration is possible only by means of a code word requested from either me or HA. It's a really neat phpBB mod... and 100% spam proof. I'm feeling particularly smug about the secret handshake. Here's to me and HA not receiving any more fake user registrations.

Currently enjoying:

• Jonah Winter's Amnesia. First discovered his mind-blowing poetry in Tarpaulin Sky and just love it. Here's a favorite excerpt from his longish poem, Postcards from Paradise:

I remember being alone
like an ocean, each day
a wave, greenish-gray,
each night black with fish
and flotsam
                      from other people's lives.

• Jayne Pupek's Forms of Intercession. Have actually read this before it went to the press, but getting the real thing and re-reading it still gives me the thrills. It's a spanking good debut collection of poetry. There's a wonderful review by LouAnn Shepard Muhm at Jayne's blog.

• Andrea Barrett's Ship Fever. This is an amazing short story collection — I just love how she weaves science and history into her stories. It's pure magic.

A special thank-you-you-made-my-week goes out to Valerie for sending me this surprise package.

• Anne Carson's Decreation. I'm a huge fan of anything she writes and would probably kill termites for her fridge notes, so I'm heavily biased already. Here's one of the essays included in the book: How Women Like Sappho, Marguerite Porete, and Simone Weil Tell God.

• Painted Bride Quarterly — the Print Annual 4 — is getting dirtier by the minute in my hands. The black-and-white photo cover is a riot... the front shows a classroom half-filled with bored-looking old geezers. I turned it around, and saw [gaaawk!] a totally naked woman at the back, apparently in the same room with them because it's got one old geezer there, too. It's a picture that simply babbles a million interpretations. Teehee.

Anyway, it's a HUGE book. Really thick. As in, if I throw it between the eyes of a burglar — ski-mask or none — it's the kind of book that kills on contact. That's the kind of book it is.

Here's a delicious excerpt from the Pirate issue (#78) — The Poem that Fell from Grace with the Sea by Donald Dunbar:

... the salt wind anchors
in my throat and the peach lights
above the sidewalks moan as we leave the bar,
hum, I mean, like the day janitor
tomorrow who'll mop the drinks
you've spilled; who'll nuzzle the lipstick
you've smeared all over the payphone.

I want...

... to do everything. Instead, I do nothing.

Normandy said it, not me — but it nicely sums up what I've been up to these past few weeks.

However, I'm cleaning up my act. Because (1) The Pedestal Magazine has just reopened its doors to submissions and I'm the editor on duty, (2) have re-scheduled myself to return to 30:30 tomorrow, (3) a rumor's been flying around that I've been abducted by aliens [i.e. myself and more of myself] and (4) there's something not quite healthy about watching all 13 episodes of Touching Evil in a single day — in bed, with popcorn.

Recent acceptances:

Mascara Poetry accepted three poems, Self-Portrait with Umbrella, A Warning about Attachments, Wu Jin Contemplates the Tattoo on a Soft Cheek for publication in their 3rd issue.

This is a neat journal with very eclectic tastes. While they're particularly drawn to the work of contemporary Australasian and Indigenous poets, they also consider works typed in English from other carbon-based lifeforms. And hey, they've just become a paying market (Aussie dollars). Check 'em out.

     Submission sent: 7 November 2007
     Reply date: 15 February 2008

• Chiron Review accepted three poems, Driving Home, Snow Globe and Sunday Morning Mass for a future issue. According to my —erm— Poet's Market 2000, it is "a quarterly tabloid using photographs of featured writers" (why am I suddenly thinking of the Rocky Horror Picture Show?) with a print run of "about 1000".

They accept e-mails submissions only from overseas writers.

     Submission sent: 15 February 2008
     Reply date: 25 February 2008

Recent publications:

• Have three poems, Black Tar Girl, Night, with Owls on Witch Trees and Commute under L. Ward Abel, who is the Featured Poet for February 2008 in Contemporary American Voices. So thrilled to be sharing space with Collin Kelley and Beverly Jackson!

• Was delighted to receive three copies of the Fall 2007 issue (Volume 3.2) of Marginalia and find Carol Frith, Paul Sohar and Dana Sonnenschein — whose works I came across and loved while doing TPM duty. This is one gorgeous magazine: flat-spined, full-color glossy card cover with around 160 pages of poetry, fiction and art. A tiny, tiny prose poem, My SimCity Llama Has a Cold makes its debut sneezes on page 15.

• While Valerie and I were preparing the final draft of our Bundles mss for Texture Press, I summed up enough courage to query about the publication of my poem, further adventures into private parts in Painted Bride Quarterly — I signed the contract two years ago, didn't hear about their Pirates issue anymore, and didn't know what to write under the Acknowledgments page (finally opted to pull it out of the mss).

Anyway, I asked and found out that their print annual is just hot off the press and heading my way as soon as I provide them with a "brick/mortar" address. I know. I'm a woman of little faith.

Talking of faith —

There's a... **whispering** ... priest who's been after me since my mom's funeral. He got my e-mail address. He is concerned about the salvation of my soul. He wants me to confess my sins. To him.

All my nightmares about stalkers and Satan have come true.

It's the Year of the Rat!

Here's to wishing everyone a wonderful Lunar Year ahead — with lots of great surprises, charm and luck.

Sliding slowly back to normality:

Got back last Saturday. Didn't really feel much like blogging or doing social work (what I've come to call my mailbox and phone book). Not really sad or even brooding, just all very Mark Ehling's I Seem to be Dead Inside.

My mom passed away on January 11th.

She was practically only waiting for me. When she heard that I'd already arrived, she stopped eating and just let go. It was, I think, a good death. We had some nuns come over who "lifted her to the light" with their prayers and mass songs while she was dying. It was agonizing to watch her slow slide into death, but we (including my mom) agreed that death was preferable to the pain which had become excruciating and almost impossible to manage in the last few weeks.

Here we were clowning around a few hours before my wedding (2001).

She was buried — wearing that dress in the photo — on the 17th after a 6-day wake. I was practically living (and sleeping) at the funeral parlor since my brother and his wife had to go home at night to be with their kids. My job was to entertain the guests during the day because tradition makes them expect to be entertained, offered food and drink, etc. Rather draining. Afterwards, we all decided NOT to have a wake once we're dead. Just cremation within 24-hours. Spare our loved ones, puh-lease.

Finally attended yoga class again last Tuesday. And glad I did. It gave me a bit of pep — enough to go back to blogging, answering my e-mail and limit my daily staple of PC games. Eventually, I'll get back to writing and submitting — haven't done either in like two months.

Not-so-recent acceptance:

Parameter Magazine, a UK-based print journal accepted three poems, A Driving Student Conceptualizes Rain, My Gorilla Suit Was Outfitted With Two-Thousand Christmas Lights and Luckily, Near Memphis in a future issue (probably issue 7) due out in Fall 2008.

     Submission sent: 25 September 2007
     Reply date: 15 January 2008

Recent publications:

• My poem, Agoraphobia is in the January 2008 issue of The Chimaera. It's kind of creepy how it foresaw my mom's death prior to it happening.

• Have got a kinky poem, Please Meet My Breasts in Issue 45 of Rising — a UK-based print journal edited by Tim Wells, who was so kind as to invite me to send work. Fellow blogger, Rob's got stuff here, too entitled Hangover Hotel. A poem after my own heart. Hee.

• With much gratitude to the same Tim Wells who submitted on my behalf, have also got my Driving Instructor’s First Gastrointestinal Cramp finding its page in Pen Pusher (#8) — a terrific flat-spined, UK-based print journal.

So, what else is new —

A decided to bring home some fresh kefir grains again. In a sealed plastic container. Saran-wrapped. In her checked-in luggage.

NEVER AGAIN.

A has learned her lesson. A hasn't yet finished hand-washing her soiled underwear. A hasn't yet scrubbed down the interior of her luggage in the shower like a dog. But she knows. No more traveling with kefir or other micro-organisms. The husband has put his foot down — on the stench in the hallway, on the kefir in his duty-free cigarettes.