happy

My sister is here, last night I did my second reading since Flood Year came out and then went to Little Joe's to belatedly celebrate my birthday, today we're going to wander around the city like tourists and the weather is perfect.

Compliments from lots of folks, including the department chair and AW, after the reading. Sold a couple of copies. Felt like a rock star.

Karen wrote a little review of Flood Year that's just amazing...I kind of can't believe she's talking about my poems. Thanks so much, Karen!

Rigoberto González had nice things to say about Flood Year and dgp over at Critical Mass. Awesome!

verve

I have been sitting here all night, fighting with the internet, chatting with a poet friend/classmate on facebook, watching Grey's episodes online (when the internet is working)and now it is 11:56, past my bedtime, and I'm not sleepy, but I am tired, and I do have to get up in 5 or 6 hours depending on whether or not I want my hair to look decent tomorrow, but I haven't done any of my homework/grading, and I've figured it's safe to put some of it off until tomorrow night or the next night, but a lot of it (writing a sonnet, revising a poem, reading some Dante) needs to be done by 3pm tomorrow, and minus the time I'll probably spend sleeping, I only have 3 free hours between now and then and usually trying to write in fixed form takes me a really, really long time, and I keep thinking that Anne said I don't have to write the sonnet because I did okay on the sapphics, but it would be good for me anyway, and I'm wondering what's up with this never-ending run-on sentence?

I took my birthday weekend off, officially, but the truth is I've been phoning it in for a couple of weeks. Why? Who knows. Winter doldrums kicking in early? Mid-semester burnout? General laziness? Can't quite put my finger on it. Just know I haven't had much verve lately.

Speaking of verve, Anne also told me my poems have no intensity/focus/urgency. I'm supposed to be revising to find the moment of urgency/intensity/focus that is at the root of each draft. When she said this to me last week, it sounded profound and right and productive and now it just feels heavy and sad and impossible. Oh, she also said I have a small vocabulary. boo.

and now I'm good and depressed and ready for bed. I'll do what I can tomorrow and what doesn't get done will go on the permanent record of things-Sara-didn't-do-well-enough-according-to-her-own-stupid-standards which I think all perfectionists have except I'm a lazy perfectionist and even though I want everything to be perfect I usually don't get there.

self-pity, it's good for my art.

Birthday (and Halloween) redux

I turned 29 yesterday. I'm not one to worry about getting older (for the most part), primarily because I love to celebrate my birthday. Usually, I try to have a huge party and am subsequently disappointed when I end up with a small party. So this year, I started small, stayed small. Four of us went to dinner at Quartino, which is quickly becoming my favorite restaurant in Chicago. We drank too much wine, ate too much food, talked about babies, relationships, school...got a little rowdy and offended people at the next table...and generally had an amazing time. I don't think I've ever had a group of girlfriends that felt as solid as these girls do for me.

I can't quite give up on my love of big, rowdy birthday celebrations, though, so I'll be having a second celebration on Nov. 13 after I read at the Hull House. My sister Carla will be in town, and a lot of folks will already be around for the reading, so it just seemed like a better day for a big party. I'm looking forward to that, too.

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And it wouldn't be right if I didn't mention Halloween. Four of us dressed up as smurfs and went to the costume parade on Halsted street. We were nearly celebrities...everywhere we went, people shouted: "Look, it's the smurfs!" and asked to have their picture taken with us. But really, the best part for me was checking out all the drag queen costumes. I have a bit of a secret obsession. The best was the human disco ball, who I unfortunately couldn't get a very good picture of.

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I did more socializing this past weekend then in the whole month prior, so I'm quite exhausted today and even further behind in my work. I guess that means I should sign off and get to it.

Happy November, folks!

My new (poetry) diet

So, I had a meeting today with my workshop prof, Anne Winters, who I absolutely adore. Her critiques are often scathing, but she is funny, whip-smart, and an invested teacher.

...but, she put me on--what she calls--a poetry diet. Said I'm not allowed to read any more contemporary poetry until I catch up with the canon. I'm supposed to (re)read Bishop, Yeats, Lowell, plus Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, and Balzac before I read another contemporary poem. And that's just what I can remember off the top of my head. There are more names, collected works, giant novels, etc.

Don't get me wrong. I need to read more classics just like I need to eat more vegetables. But if Yeats = broccoli, then Leilani Hall = sour patch kids and A. Van Jordan = potato chips. Broccoli is good, but some days only junk food will do.

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PS - I'm sorry for the bad metaphor, especially at the expense of two of my favorite contemporary poets. The point is, these are things I just can't resist.