what you dream of facing the hull of another wreck it sailed off into the wild blue yonder some half-realized titanic with an emphasis on iceberg float in the fatal aqua gah-gah you still saw see! faux pas in guady gew-gaw whee! ooh! ahh! moored to the weird maw of mine pining the far beaches and outer reaches without a flaw no one on no horizon one fallen but freely pink all sun-swabbed and succulently among palms as does late day downwardly i know you pretty town you know my little city and what bitter renown comes of trying you must fly with no good-byeing no sighing no doubling up bubbling over troubling stubbling up through the smooth sand and surface to plant a kiss
...without a getting a word in. It hurt. Quite simply, THAT much is happening in my life and blogging has just taken a back seat!
I started another blog in the meanwhile, though. Wait! That's contradictory! That's a great @#$&% idea, Bob! You can't even update this one regularly. What are you doing starting another one? As you might imagine, my upkeep on the new blog has been lackluster, as well.
I suppose I could back-date this post if I really wanted to keep up appearances...
Things have settled down a little now that I know I will keep my job in the district next year and I won't have to look for one anymore. I still don't know if I'll be at the same school or not, though. In any case, I'm not looking for a job in Saudi Arabia, and I'll be able to enjoy my summer vacation in Italy. Two months all up in it! That's the light at the end of the tunnel...
Vito is excellent. Thanks for asking. He tried finger painting for the first time today. It wasn't even that messy...
I have to try and get something posted before the end of the month, which is nigh. I wanted to post something so many times, but I didn't. Actually, I did, but that's a secret, at the mo. All will be revealed in time. Anyhow, here's the past month cleverly encapsulated:
Work during the week, as per usual. Receiving a pink slip (should that be hyphenated?) added no additional stress whatsoever. I knew it was coming. Yeah, I'm fine. Really. It's not bother. I mean it.
Read Educational Psychology texts at night.
Bowl on Friday afternoons.
Complete Educational Psychology assignments on weekends.
Sleep as little as possible.
Write more poetry than I have written in months! I'm busier than usual and I write more than usual?! Go figure...
Sprinkle in liberal servings of husbanding and fathering, although with, unhappily, less on the former. The latter won't let me off the hook without a fight...
Just found out today that one of my chapbooks is being listed on a new online bookstore at Unlikely 2.0. This is what is written about the chapbook:
...now available for sale to the less masochistic or those otherwise disinclined to read chapbooks on a computer screen. Star-Spangled Banter is an extroverted passage into the psychological and spiritual American Self; a discussion of boredom, lust, greed, fury, self-righteousness, and other peaceful motives in wartime. Laid out in a wild, spiraling projective verse, Star-Spangled Banter is a controlled and organized wail, a study of the agony of the destructive nature in every nation's soul. It's twenty-eight pages, and we sell it for $5. The cover art by Nancy Victoria Davis originally appeared in Unlikely's July 4th Issue, 2004.
While you're shelling out the ducets for this one, and I know poetry is high on your list of necessities during these times, you might as well order Beijing Background, located on your left in the sidebar...
Look for a new chapbook from yours truly on Plan B Press this spring! Until next we sing...
Angela, Vito and two of our FSUSD bowling mates, Crystal and Nic, rode BART into San Francisco on Saturday. We arrived in the city at around 3PM, and the streets in the Financial District were deserted. It appeared that nothing special whatsoever would occur, but as we moved closer to China Town, we began to notice preparations for the parade: police gates along the sidewalks blocking off alleyways and side streets, bleachers, people sitting in chairs along the sidewalks, clusters of tourists standing around.
Angela had read about a street fair, and we wanted to wander through that prior to sitting down for a bite to eat before the parade. While we were approaching the R & G Lounge, the sounds of a drummer and a number of cymbal-beaters rained down on us, and raised our level of excitement considerably. We had found the action.
It's hard to believe that I lived in the city for thirteen years and never once thought about catching the Chinese New Year Parade. Better than I had expected, it was more than two hours long and, as Vito dictated our maneuvers to a certain degree, we had to leave before the festivities ended.
Anyway, enough preamble. Here is one of the highlights of the evening:
