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Monday, February 27, 2006

Well, it's nearly officially official -- Lynne and Ram and I finished the 501(c)3 filing paperwork yesterday and we are on our way to federal nonprofit status (we're already cool with the state.)

In this process I wrote the following which was WAY too detailed to include in anything going to the IRS, but for me really sums up why we do what we do. So here it is for your edification and enjoyment. :)

The louderARTS Project was founded based on the recognition that there exists in both the literary and performance communities a false divide between written and spoken (performed) poetry. Two conditions of primary concern to the louderARTS Project result from this perceived and perpetuated division.

One: Outside of traditional universities, there is a dearth of opportunity for individuals to access highly skilled teachers and mentors, or to engage in the kinds of coursework or discussions that would allow them to improve their poetic craft through rigor and study. This results in the general exclusion (with a few notable exceptions) of individuals who by dint of cultural background or affiliation, lack of formal education, economic under-resourcedness, style of written expression not fitting the current literary canon, or other sources of marginalization, from academia and its attendent opportunities.

Two: Simultaneously, the wider performance poetry community is by and large not engaged or invested in the process of creating spaces conducive to excellence in writing, rigor in study, and nurturance of artistic risk and experimentation in the written and spoken word. As a result, while serving as a necessary platform for self-expression by many writer/performers who would otherwise lack access to or be excluded from the world of poetry, the performance community (with few exceptions) does not offer these individuals meaningful opportunities to identify and fulfull their poetic potential.

*** and that's what I think about that. started work on a new saint poem yesterday, probably won't get back to it until the end of this week. I have fallen victim to the "shoulds" I swore off somewhat effectively for quite a while. must... cut... back... on commitments. let's pretend the horoscope says that's what this week is for.

*

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

dream about transference as a reasonable excuse

the dead pigeon against your front door
is not an omen. despite the iridescent neck
in the failing light, despite the fortunecookie
of its beak open as if to speak, the gypsy eye
does not recognize you for the fraud you are.
the child drifting across the street, neatly
avoiding car and garbage truck, three matches
in each hand, one on fire, is not Ophelia
or your daughter, not drowned
or nonexistent as you step around
the dead feathers. she is someone
else's dream, a mistake
you never made. there is only
one train from your neighborhood
and you take it. you could burn the house
of your memory, but what good
would that do? you live in a small apartment
with a lock easily picked. at night, the metal
deadbolt sings so slightly off-key. and you sleep
with the covers low, birds curled
against the window maybe for heat, maybe
for company. two people you used to know
have died in the past two weeks, their pictures
locked steady on the computer screen. now
you will decide what color to wear
tomorrow, whether to take the promotion
and which pills, when. the half-life of your sanity
is a calculation from a class you elected years ago
not to take. too late now, the pigeon claims,
the match burning down to sulfur on a girl's fingertips.

*

Friday, February 17, 2006

{next round of workshops}

I'ma need to buy a laptop to do the complete planning for this. stay tuned for some sort of fundraising event!

the louderARTS Project presents a Spring Workshop with Marty McConnell

Getting Naked with Your Poems:
exploring emotional proximity on page and stage

Sundays, March 5, 12, 19, and 26, 3-6 p.m.

Space is limited and pre-registration is required.
$30 per workshop or $100 for the complete series.
Registration must be received by March 1.

You know the poems. All emotion and no craft. All craft and no feeling. And the AHA poems, the ones that do it all! But how do they do it, these poets who do it all?

In this four-week workshop series, we will explore the many ways in which emotion influences, is expressed in, is hidden by or from, poems. We'll look at emotion in written work, and in performance. How can it help us? How does it hinder us? How can we make it work for the poem? We will read, and we will write. We will critique, and we will perform. You'll laugh, you'll cry, it'll be better than Def Jam.

Attendance at all four workshops recommended, but not required.

To register, email workshops@louderarts.com with your name, email address, phone number (day/evening) and 3 sample poems.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

{two police reports in as many weeks = cringe}

so given that our apartment was broken into on Friday and both our laptops stolen, along with a borrowed one -- what a bizarre feeling, knowing that someone or someones have been rummaging through your stuff and things, looking to take -- did they look at the pictures? did they already know who we were? did they watch to see when Roger left with this suitcase? there's a poem in there somewhere, if I could find the time to write it --

so given that, we need to get new machines. any suggestions, pleasant readers? machines from which to stay far far away? amounts of memory to require? we want light and cheap and fast. mostly light and cheap.

ch-ch-ch-changes afoot at the job. many decisions to make. feeling the need to sit still and process but in some ways the thought of sitting still causes more anxiety than the decisions (job & otherwise) and their pesky insistence. arg. time for lunch.

*

Thursday, February 09, 2006

and see, this is what happens. when I begin to memorize poems, I stop writing poems. as if there is only so much brainspace to go around and the freshly memorized words take up extra room before settling in, back with the others, filed and a little dusty.

but the memorizing is good, it leads to edits that wouldn't have happened otherwise. and it's good to be able to live the poems out, to do them justice with sound, which most times (for me) requires memorizing.

the cleaning staff last night must have removed the cardboard tube I keep under my desk and on which I rest my feet and it's not necessary in any way but has been there almost a year -- why would they take it now? I miss it. how bizarre.

I need to begin analyzing poems again -- has been way with four syllables too long. in March I'm teaching a four-week workshop through louderARTS, must do some analysis before then, maybe tonight I'll theme it and spend some quality time with the books.

if I've lent you a book of poetry, could you return it please? I miss them. more than the cardboard tube. must not lend out books no more. no more. I call upon all my bookplates to throw themselves (and the books in which they live) off the shelves of every bookcase outside 702 Grand St. well, we'll see what happens now.

*

Monday, February 06, 2006

{oh, right}

because I believe in the rule of three for the most part, I was wondering when the third loss would come in -- #1 being the computer power cord, #2 being my phone -- and then I realized that #3 is my mind, lost continually over the past two weeks. always comes back, but clearly the worse for wear. so there you have it. also, I think I'm anemic.

*

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

{can't win for losin'}

My little household is on something of a losing streak, about one major item per week. Three weeks ago, it was Fred (our name for that little external portable drive memory stick thing). Last week, it was my laptop power cord (left by Roger, somehow, in South Carolina.) This week, it's my PHONE.

And we know exactly where we last had each item. Fred we had in Lynne's apartment. Gone. The power cord, in a theater space, plugged in. Gone. My phone, in my hand on the way from Bar 13 to Reservoir Monday night. Gone.

We cannot afford to replace so many things in such short order! And now, Verizon tells me that in order to get a new phone through the insurance I've paid for, I have to file a POLICE REPORT. What? I have to find and enter a NYC police precinct office thing and say, hey. I'm a jackass and can't find my phone. I guess now I have to report it stolen and jack up the crime statistics for the whole city. Sorry!

so I turn to Free Will Astrology. And what sage advice do I receive? This:

After torrential rains caused flooding in the small town where I live, the Thai restaurant was one of the few downtown businesses that was spared catastrophic damage. The maitre d' explained to me why as I ordered my to-go dinner tonight. "We've always hated our tile floor. It makes the place feel sterile, and it's slippery. People lose their footing if there's even a little wet spot. But when the three feet of floodwater poured in, our tile floor held up. All the stores around us had wooden floors that were destroyed." This is your metaphor of the week, Cancerian. Something in your life that you have regarded as a problem will become a saving grace.

So apparently, these devices would have risen up and killed us in our sleep had they continued in our possession. Or rather, would have killed me, since Roger's in Oakland until Sunday. Good grief, Charlie Brown. Sigh.