January Surge

Drafted a new poem today. My second this month, hereby obliterating my productivity-rate of the last several months. It's such an amazing feeling to get in that zone. C.Dale speaks much more eloquently about this at his blog, but it reminds me how much I need this, how everything seems to pale in comparison to the act of writing the poem once it finally starts to emerge. Hell, I skipped American Idol to keep drafting! (truth be told: it's being DVR-ed). Mayhaps said draft will blip on-and-off this very blog sometime soon...

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Big-time congrats to Gary! It's never too early to pre-order! (In this case, it actually is, but mentally you should certainly add this to your pre-order list...)

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Killer first line of the moment:

"Like a far-off scream, like a mannequin leaning back-seat"

from Major Jackson's "Maddeningly Elusive, Yet Endlessly Tempting"

(Hoops, W.W. Norton, 2006)

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The bandleader, a surly cellist, refused to make eye contact with anyone and hissed at a young girl who tried to clap along. As the music sputtered to a flaccid conclusion, thick jets of foam were dumped on the audience from hidden ceiling ducts. As people wiped the stinging lather from their eyes, Mr. O'Brien jumped out from behind a curtain and cheerfully quipped, "Ha, ha, you're all foamy!"

-An Op-Ed from 1993 written by none other than Conan O'Brien, regarding his debut as the host of the Late Night Show. By the by, I loved his last show: both funny and tender-hearted. If you missed it, read about it/watch bits here.

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Not because it's significant, but because it's a good song.