My Writing, on a Page.
April 7, 2010 § Leave a comment
When I was fourteen I went to summer writing camp, where I distinctly remember being too shy to talk to most people, in particular one of the playwrights (-writes? -rites? Right.). He was funny, his voice was already changing in that nasally but still resonant & deep kind of way, & while a lot of other kids knew what sarcasm sounded like (sarcasm of the “Yeah, right” variety), he seemed to know how it worked. That made him cool, way cooler than me, & when I asked him to write me a message in my lit mag as people did on the last night, he obliged me with My writing! On a page! Yes.
Lots of people are way cooler than me. Many of them are in the Spring 2010 issue of Third Coast, which you should find a way to put your hands on soon. The website doesn’t yet have a picture of the current issue, but it’s a lovely shade of blue, I promise. I read a good deal of it today after it jumped out of my mailbox & into my lap & I wanted to get up to go to the bathroom but it refused to move. I had to read fast.
A lot of the material in this issue is explicitly socially conscious: boarded-up factories in Michigan, a history of the first plane crash fatalities, Baghdad/Homeland Security/Sarah Palin/Iraq, a New Orleans-area flood, the Pacifc Ocean full of debris. It’s an issue you can feel ethically sound about reading, if not a little heavy-hearted when you’re done. Which is kind of the way we feel when we do good little things one at a time to try to stop the bad big things that are happening all at once & a lot.
My poem doesn’t care about anything good except biting, and remote controls. & there’s a line in it I once asked my workshop about, as I was worried it could possibly be misconstrued as implying oral sex. It doesn’t. Global concerns.
For the globally concerned, I’m heading to Denver tomorrow for this monstrosity. I will be bringing my $12 coat, which I bought for last year’s conference in Chicago & have rarely had to use since. I hope it still works coatly.
I will be sitting for some hours at the Gulf Coast table. I will be sitting for some hours on some bar stools. I will perhaps be engaging in some simultaneous sit-&-blog activity. Maybe we’ll run into each other. I’m a lovely shade of blue, I promise.