Hello there. So much for the blogging on the road thing, right? I tried, but I didn't try that hard. Fact is, the last two weeks have been a bit of a whirlwind. In a good way. What things I've seen.
I drove across a couple of mountain ranges. I hid a 9 -foot kayak behind a garage in metropolitan Denver. I was tossed from Temple Square in Salt Lake City by a man who looked like he was in the secret service. [Just in case you were wondering: dogs are not allowed in Temple Square]. Also fell in love with US Soccer. Someone told me I was on the local Seattle news when they showed video of Seattle fans watching at soccer bars (George and the Dragon in Fremont!), but I couldn't find the video. I still can't decide if I'm going to name my first born son Landon or Donovan (I stole that joke from someone on facebook, I forget who, but yeah, there ya go). I find myself loving the new Eminem CD. I have a first line of a poem floating around in my head ("Even the gas stations in Rupert are beautiful") and I'm going to try and write it today. I have moved to Seattle, Washington.
I've been trying to keep posting updates on Facebook, if for nothing else than to assure my father that I've not lost my mind (or perhaps, to confirm that I have), but all this only to say: we're resuming regular programming here, so I hope everyone's doing well.
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In poem news, I had a very new poem accepted to appear in the Fall 2010 issue of Hayden's Ferry Review. It's a journal I've admired since I started submitting, so it's great to get a poem in there after a few rejections with encouragement. Also have poems in soon-to-come Summer 2010 issues of Crab Orchard Review, New York Quarterly, and Sou'wester. If you're already looking ahead to Fall (I know you're not), I'll have poems in 32 Poems, Hollins Critic, and Nimrod. So yeah, read em if you feel so compelled!
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Caption contest over at the Muse! Go get you some! (I've got nothing so far for this picture...but still marinating...)
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In honor of Wendell Berry's recent decision to pull his papers from the University of Kentucky library (someone who, I think, provides an excellent example for how a writer should conduct themselves), we're going beyond just the first line, let's read the whole damn poem.
The Broken Ground
The opening out and out,
body yeilding body:
the breaking
through which the new
comes, perching
above its shadow
on the piling up
darkened broken old
husks of itself:
bud opening to flower
opening to fruit opening
to the sweet marrow
of the seed--
taken
from what was, from
what could have been.
What is left
is what is.
(from The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry, Counterpoint, 1998)
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Spent the morning watching this movie. Things it effectively accomplished: educated me on the sports history of my new city (and the devotion of said city), renewed my borderline fanatic admiration for Sherman Alexie (read that poem!), and dispelled some of my excitement for tonight's NBA Draft. Seriously, if you have the time, it's a very fine film, if only to hear Sherman Alexie speak elegantly about why basketball is so damn gorgeous...
