More clips from the November 2005 MiPO reading in Miami.

The Little Old Lady Who Could Not See Over the Steering Wheel

MiPOesias Reading, Miami, 2005

For T-Rob

The lovely scribbles once called Anthony
hurt-shat, beer-swig, flog-blog, ail-ale for weeks!
Neil Young flies from pints of fortuitous California bars.
Neil Young is old and money and velocity.
It's just stuff and publication and from the asses of birds.
Those pure speckled holes showering luck.


blog-robbed, as always

Bruce Covey at the MiPO Reading in November

Happiness is . . .

. . . a last minute babysitting offer. Sweet Jesus, I'm going out tonight!

Lulu recently offered additional new book sizes -- which is cool because No Tell Books has two new books coming out this fall, Elapsing Speedway Organism by Bruce Covey and The Attention Lesson by PF Potvin as well as a couple chapbooks. And more books coming out in 2007 (woof woof), a new Bedside Guide, etc.

Look for submission guidelines for 2007's Bedside Guide in the coming week.

Gideon hasn't walked in my presence -- guess I have to go out of town and hope Chris catches it on video tape.

I had a really good time in NYC, the reading went well, had fun hanging out afterward with Shanna, Shafer and Maureen and philosophy guy whose name I'm blanking on because I'm still drunk. Also, my friend Randall from CMU showed up afterwards (he thought the reading was going to go on all day -- sweet Jesus) so much of the evening was spent trading gossip and laughing at the expense of friends.

For a better idea of Lauren Bender's cloak of poetic potential auction at Burlesque, David HG reprints part of her prospectus. While her cloak auction did not make more than Kim Addonizio's thong -- the total amount she garnered from additional smaller investors did make her overall earnings more.

Finishing up the first "presentable" draft of my new manuscript.

Back to catching up for me. Behind on galleys and subs -- it's as if I made having my head glued up my ass a 2006 resolution.

Ain't That the Truth

From Mr. Tong Bliss' Journal:

13. Do you write poems to woman for like birthdays and anniversaries since woman seem to love that?

Not anymore! Woman didn't like the poems I wrote to them when I was a teenager even though I thought woman would be all into it. Woman get real creeped out by poems, you know? So I don't give woman poems no more. However, I do send my chapbooks to a lot of womans who write poems and would dig the poems, but not random womans I've just met in a bar, dig, never, nothing like that, ever. Poetry scare the womans away, ya heard.

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I just realized other people are linking to this quote too -- but I'm leaving it up here because it's that good.

p.s. I generally like poems written for me -- if they're good.

Monday's Burlesque Photos

Can be viewed here.

And check out May's issue of The Washingtonian. Turn to page 82 and you'll find a very pretty photo of Gina Myers reading at last month's Burlesque.

This is the Stuff that Makes Me Mad

I'm with Gideon all day everyday -- practically always. Chris goes out of town on a regular basis -- sometimes for days at a time. When he comes home and asks "Did Gideon do anything special while I was gone?" the answer is usually something like "He pooped three times on Tuesday."

But when I go out of town, it's baby milestone time. When I went to Miami for the MiPO reading I got a text message informing me that Gideon was crawling. When I went to Delaware for an evening, I got a phone call informing me that he was creeping (walking with the aid of holding on to furniture). Last night while waiting to board my plane at LaGuardia, I received a text message saying he took his first steps -- at an Easter dinner (Russian Orthodox) -- in front of 30 of his closest friends -- confirming my suspicions that he's been able to walk for some time, but waiting for the right moment so I'd miss it.

I'll be at Burlesque tonight. I imagine Gideon will do a pirouette and perfectly pronounce razzmatazz at his grandmother's.

Oh, it's OK. Everytime something like this happens I get to hear all about it and that's just like being there to experience it.

This Week at No Tell

James Grinwis takes a pole and thrusts it through the windows this week at No Tell Motel.

Photography to Record Our Lovemaking

Pictures from the Bedside Guide Release Party on Saturday. Halfway through the reading my camera batteries died, some of the photos were taken by Amy King.


Anne Gorrick


Laura Sheahen assisting with Anne's reading


Betsy Wheeler


Anita Naegeli


Laura Cronk


Amy King

Like Shafer Said: A Big, Wild Party

See you there!

THE BEDSIDE GUIDE TO NO TELL MOTEL RELEASE PARTY
Saturday, April 22 at 2 p.m. at The Frequency Series at the Four Faced Liar (165 West 4th Street, New York, NY)

featured readers:

Anne Gorrick
Amy King
Laura Cronk
Betsy Wheeler
Anita Naegeli

Weirdness Evaluation Engine now reviewing poems.

Somehow flies are getting into the house and that's driving Chris insane.

Next Week at the Burlesque Poetry Hour

Amy King, Lauren Bender and Anna Ziegler will be taking it off for Lolita and Gilda at Bar Rouge in Washington D.C. Monday, April 24nd. Reading will begin at 8:00 p.m. in The Dark Room at Bar Rouge.

Click here for more information.

To be clear, my post from Monday was mocking the idea that one should not use his/her blog to discuss, critique or even complain. I subscribe to no "blog rules." Also, I was not dismissing Ron for writing about the WP article. Just applying what a few said to those writing about the PW article. I do not believe Ron was desperate for attention or needs to "spend more time" on his poems. I thought that was obvious (based on what I was doing on my blog the week before). If it wasn't, I apologize. For assuming that was obvious.

Free Chapbooks, New Coconut!

Two new printable, downloadable chapbooks are available: Pterodactyls Soar Again by Reb Livingston and Journals: Collages of Contemporary Poetry by Jenna Cardinale, Numbers Three and Four in the Whole Coconut Chapbook Series.

& if that weren’t enough, Issue Four is now live, containing new poems by Charles Bernstein, Anne Boyer, Joyelle McSweeney, Andrea Baker, Adam Clay, Theresa Sotto, Alan DeNiro, Jenny Boully, Heather Brinkman, Matthew Henriksen, Jan Clausen, Julie Doxsee, Justin Marks, Ken Rumble, Joshua Beckman, Mary Kasimor, Kristi Maxwell, Peter Davis, kari Edwards, Michael Farrell, and Todd Colby.

Cover design: Charles Orr, Photograph: Shanna Compton

The New Blogging Rules

NOTE: The following post is sarcastic -- I believe discussion is very important and think people should use their blogs to write about whatever is on their minds. I also don't beleive a critique of work is a baseless personal attack. I usually don't "flag" sarcastic posts -- but a few people have indicated a straight reading of it and I want to be clear.

1. Never voice an observation or critique of anything on your blog unless you're using your powers in bigger ways to change things. Do not discuss. Nobody cares. Especially not your readers who visit your blog everyday.

For example, don't voice your disapproval of the war in Iraq on your blog unless you're actively organizing and participating in protests on Washington (protests in your stoopid meaningless town don't count -- hello, the people who decide these things are in Washington), offering your expertise for The O'Reily Factor and arranging meetings with Rumsfeld (well, how do you know he's not going to see you unless you TRY?).

George Bush, Dick Cheney and Condi Rice do not read your blog.

2. Consider any less than positive comment or critique of your work or project you are involved as a baseless personal attack.

I'm talking to you, Jordan, I read your blog post about today's NTM poem and all I have to say is if you want those handcuffs removed -- get off your fat duff and do it yourself! Don't wait for anyone else to do it for you. Watch out next time we meet, I'm the crazy-wedgie-giving-girl your parents warned you about.

Bedside Guide Release Party - NYC

BEDSIDE GUIDE TO NO TELL MOTEL RELEASE PARTY
Saturday, April 22 at 2 p.m. at The Frequency Series at the Four Faced Liar (165 West 4th Street, New York, NY)

featured readers:

Anne Gorrick
Amy King
Laura Cronk
Betsy Wheeler
Anita Naegeli

This Week at No Tell

Eileen R. Tabios compels you to lug home a polyethylene tree this week at No Tell Motel.

Wow, today Ron makes an observation about omission -- he must be like, upset, or pissed that he wasn't included or desperate for some self-promotion. What a whiner! Maybe he should be using this time to work on his poems.

This Mom-Blogger Does Love Her Images

Happy Easter



Now that I'm done with all my angry whining and blaming -- I'll be working on No Tell subs this weekend. These past two months the number has tripled so Molly and I are behind in our responses. If you've been waiting more than a month -- you should hear from us this weekend or early in the week.

Things Are Looking Up!

E-filed our taxes last night (and it wasn't nearly as terrible as I first figured) and today got a surprise complimentary copy of Jim Goar's new chap Whole Milk (cream paper, orange ink) from effing press.

I know this really isn't news, but effing makes gorgeous chapbooks.

Tomorrow is Easter dinner at Tender Buttons. I'm going to focus a little on my own sensitivity training. At last year's dinner I kind of killed the moment when I told an innappropriate Jesus joke to her devout Catholic boyfriend. Well, it's a new year and TB has a new man with a different religion and I already told him the bad joke to get that out of the way -- so we're all growing, I think.

Talk About Cock!

This month's Crucial Rooster is up at The Happy Booker.

Not About the Article, About the Community

As Anne and Shanna and others have pointed out, most members of the poetry blogging community have been pretty wonderful and thoughtful in this discussion -- and that includes much of the differences in opinion and perception. This includes Craig and his responses on his blog. I've been thoroughly and pleasantly surprised by some bloggers' consideration on the topic. I'm grateful for that.

And for the few who continue to dismiss the topic outright (this doesn't include those who've disagreed) for reasons such as :

This is an innappropriate way/place to engage/speak of this -- Move it somewhere else, somewhere I don't have to see/hear it

You should be using your time working on your poems -- You don't know how to use your time or focus your energy, so let me tell you how and oh, p.s. You're a shitty poet!

There are more important things to talk about -- You and your concerns do not fit into my world view -- it's time you fixed that

This has nothing to do with poetry -- Change the topic, I don't care and stamp you and your concerns irrelevant and annoying to consider

Heard it all before -- Not listening --- lalalalalalala

You should "get a life" -- Your opinions are not valid, you're pathetic, a loser, drop 20 pounds, go get yourself laid

You're attacking a decent person -- Because announcing disappointment and voicing your perceived exclusion is viscious (to my fragile psyche) and if I was in the same place it's likely I might have done the same thing and my work come under the same criticism and instead of entertaining the possibility I need to rethink something I'd rather put you at some kind of fault, oh ouch, my head

You have a personal agenda -- It is so upseting that we differ on this the only logical conclusion is that your motives are for personal gain and promotion

I've never seen that -- You're lying or crazy or whining or making shit up because I'm a very accomplished and knowledgeable person (see attached resume) and I know nothing of which you speak and I know all (or at least a hell of a lot more than you do -- see attached resume)

----------------

Part of me (a very big part) hates discussing this stuff because yeah, it's painful and uncomfortable and brings on a lot fallout. Usually when I speak about something like this an unpleasant consequence arises. I don't like dealing with unpleasant consequences. But I always end up doing it again, because, I don't know, I'm nuts, a loon, cuckoo for being slung over the barrel.

Unpleasant consequences aside, every single time I've stepped in (or perhaps some might suggest, created) the shitstorm, there have always been members of the poetry blogging community who have posted or e-mailed incredibly supportive and kind responses. When I have been publicly attacked (direct and personal insults regarding my appearance, my ability as a writer, editor, my intelligence, competance, ability as a mother) -- there has ALWAYS been people, in many cases people I have never met in person, who have encouraged me and offered friendship. Men and women. It's staggering and humbling.

Perhaps that's one reason why I cared enough to say anything at all about an article on blogging. And I can't personally take on every single injustice or slight -- nobody can, so we pick and focus on the things that matter most to us personally, and if that's a personal agenda -- well, yeah, s/he without a personal agenda, cast the first stone.

Craig's response last night.

I could quibble about one blog selection in the article not quite meeting the criteria of "not vanity projects, and would clearly show an uninitiated audience the basics of what the blogosphere is about." I'm not the only one to question the choice of sending an "uninitiated audience" to a blog celebrating "poetry bitches" (among other things) on a daily basis. Especially when there's only space to mention a few. What is that clearly showing?

In the end these are all choices an author has to make -- and I've had my work criticized plenty of times to know that it's no fun -- especially when it's something I've put a lot of effort into -- and I'm sure there was a lot of effort put into this article. I do appreciate Craig taking the time to respond.

And I understand the need/desire to defend a loved-one, not sure why that had to entail attacking those engaging in polite and thoughtful dialogue.

I've said what I've had to say. Take it for what it's worth.

I've been blogging long enough to know that any time I make the slightest critical statement I risk the chance of someone turning it personal. My comments have no merit because I'm this or that (see below). In the past I've been mediocre, fat, a slut . . .

It's usually been men, but today it's a woman accusing me of masquerading a personal agenda as feminism. I don't call myself a feminist and never brought up the term. I care about the "woman" issues because, isn't it obvious, I'm a woman. It's like a daily thing for me. (If you consider that feminism, fine, I'm not arguing an antifeminist stance -- I have no desire to argue "feminism" with anyone) And sure, sometimes I'm touchy -- but this time -- well, all I did was voice "disappointment" with an article that I thought omitted some pretty important stuff. In the beginning I made a somewhat snarky comment -- "that it clearly was written by someone who wasn't very familiar with online going-ons" -- that I quickly retracted when I learned it was incorrect -- although it left me a little more astonished. And then I was further astonished by Craig's response today.

I was never "pissed" at Craig or thought he was a neanderthal or a bad man or had issues with women. I never thought or felt or said Craig was keeping women-poets down. I don't know Craig and when people tell me he's a stand-up guy and has done other things acknowledging women-poets, like write an article about Kay Ryan -- I have no reason not to believe them. But as I said last night, this really isn't about Craig. It's about how and how not women are being acknowledged in this "new" online frontier and that article was the latest example.

But I do get pissed at personal and asinine comments directed at me or other folks -- and I am especially pissed at the comments here because aside from being totally uncalled for -- they're utterly wrong.

Brenda, you don't know anything about me or my "agenda" or my problems or who I'm blaming my "failures" on. As for self-serving, there's very little "self-serving" going on in my life these days and your accusations that this is somehow sour grapes about not getting my own name in print -- you know what, I'm doing OK. I'm OK with where I am. My hit counter goes on all night long and I have no need/desire for more blog readers. And like this really isn't about Craig, this really isn't about me. . .

So how about you crawl the fuck out of my ass regarding your imagined perception of my issues with men and my insatiable hunger to make my mark? If you want to say it's no big deal that article shut out the female peers of the men mentioned or bring up the numerous other good deeds of the author and how that evens things out -- fine, that's your right, but don't presume you know a thing about me and for God's sake -- don't lecture me about feminism. I don't give two shits what "REAL feminists" would do or celebrate.

So If I Speak Out That Means I'm

1. Pissed
2. A complainer
3. Looking for self-promotion because I am a desperate publicity hound
4. Using feminism as a cause for justification in my disappointment (think about that for a while)
5. Blaming men for all the things wrong in my little world
6. Unappreciative
7. All about me -- hurt that I personally wasn't included

OK. Thanks for setting me straight. I'll simmer down now.

Craig responds here.

Anne continues the dialogue here.

And Shanna defines some questions and brings up more points.

I noticed this the other day and failed to mention it -- well, it's a good time to mention it now.

Other thoughts here and here by (gasp!) women bloggers.

And man bloggers talk about legitimacy and prestige and compartmentalization.

--------------

And on a slightly different note, are blog stats the new penis size?

You know, some of us keep that information to ourselves.

An Indiscreet Admission

No Tell Motel has a HUGE one -- mammoth -- blow your mind.

Of course, no telling how much of that is due to non-poetry readers googling for illicit sex.

Well, there's some telling, but don't worry, we won't.

Blogs and online journals get a little love here. Scroll down, it's after the talk of Gioia and Hall and poetry mattering.

You know, it's kind of amazing that Gioia book had to be reprinted. I read it as a grad student. I liked the essay on Weldon Kees -- but the "Can it Matter" essay? -- it's kind of a shame how one gets his "foot in the door" so to speak -- can't we spur change without being such assholes?

Sorry, I must be slipping into mom-mode here -- giving some bizarre "let others learn from your good example" advice. You know, I was in line at one of those restaurants where they give your food on a tray and the young man behind me didn't get a tray and realized he was screwed when he got to the register with a bowl of soup on one hand and a bowl of something equally messy in the other. He had no way of getting to his wallet because the counter slats were not flat enough to set something small on. So I got him a tray, of course, and girl at the registered remarked (after watching me situate Gideon and his stroller and a high chair) how "busy" I was.

Ok, it's not amazing -- neither the book sales or my tale of dinner. Not even noteworthy. Keep moving. No point here.

I don't know, didn't somebody once say, "Everybody loves a clown"?

What am I talking about?

That's what I'm talking about!

If it was just one or the occasional article -- it wouldn't be a particularly big deal. But it's over and over and over again -- and part of me feels a little bad for singling out Craig (whom I don't know much about and have no doubt he's a wonderful and thoughtful person) -- and this isn't about one person or one article or one anything . . .

but we're not talking about old crusty guys who grew up in another time . . .

we're talking about our male peers -- guys who supposedly grew up in more conscious times

Is that how your mamas raised you? (How's that for turning the tables! Let's blame their mothers!)

Seriously, I always wanted a son because I thought they'd be easier to raise, give them a hug when they're good and spankings the rest of the time. Obviously I didn't have a clue what I was in for -- so what do I need to do to raise a strong and thoughtful and conscious little man? For real, men I adore and respect are starting to really freak me out.

I think I just figured out my taxes and I think I'm pretty upset.

Mini-interview with me by Lauren Cerand over at Lux Lotus.

Women participate in poetry -- on the Internet -- at a level deserving parenthetical mention? (This was originally linked to another blog post -- that just went poof) That's not what I keep reading. Well, the article mentions La Petite Zine and that currently has a woman editor and had others in the past. What -- you want more than that? You want a woman blogger mentioned? Well, first you have to get someone who actually reads blogs to write one of those articles for one of those kinds of publications. So nice PW has stamped online publishing as "legit" -- you know, cause I was having trouble with my self-esteem.

Note: Hmm, OK, I was wrong. The author has a blog so my assumption that he doesn't read blogs is probably incorrect. But the phantom post that originally brought my attention to this article still brought up a legitimate point. Maybe more legitimate.

Just saying.

This Week at No Tell

Michael Rerick collects the air and at night dances with twinkles this week at No Tell Motel.

Last night I had a nightmare that an angry poet was trying to kill me -- I didn't realize he moved to my town and everyday I was walking with Gideon in the stroller unknowingly through his property -- and almost being killed by his booby traps.

Something very frightening happened and I woke up yelling.

I didn't yell loud enough to wake Chris, just disturb him -- he rolled over to get away from the noise.

I said, "I had a bad dream" but only said it once and not very loud and remained unheard.

I have lots of nightmares (one or two a week), but it's been a long time since one has made me scream and I can't recall one ever having me die for poetry's sake.

I reaffirm my stance: As a busy mom, I don't have the luxury to die for poetry.

Diamonds!

The Livingston-Morrow Anniversary Guide is as follows:

10 Years - A silver and amethyst bracelet (with a few "accent" diamonds) or Camcorder

The bracelet is very beautiful -- it matches the Happiness ring. Happiness ring? The Happiness ring was what Chris gave me the day Gideon was born -- because we were, you know, happy, and amethyst is Gideon's birthstone, so that's like, appropriate. In no way construe this as payment for delivery of an heir. Oh, no no no. There are no bribes in this household.

When Chris opened his gift, I whispered, "To record our love making." Ten seconds passed and I yelled "Hah! You wish. It's to record the boy. Everything is for the boy! Our lives are now the boy!"

And that was when Chris knew his wife had not been replaced with a fembot.

Hmm, I share a wedding anniversary date (minus 10 years) with Ron. Although I don't have a poem for it. I blame the boy.

Ten Tomorrow

Tomorrow is Chris and my 10 year anniversary. Yes, thank you for your congratulations. Yes, this does make me an expert on all things marriage. Yes, the secret to a successful marriage can be yours for the low-low price of $12.99. Everything I know about a happy home is in there.

The traditional anniversary gift is Tin or Aluminum -- but apparently there's a "modern" guide and for us modern folk -- and 10 years is Diamond Jewelry! And next year? Fashion Jewelry! And in modern times I only have to be married for 20 years to get Platinum. I'm half way there.

But really, Chris is truly the modern one working with computers -- it makes sense for him to follow the modern guide and purchase diamond jewelry, but I'm a poet and that's awfully old-fashioned, been around for eons, so I think I'll be true to myself and honor the old ways.

Nothing says thank you for the last 10 years like a tasty gift tin.

From the Newstand by Francois Luong

Mini-reviews of: Free Lunch, mem, The Spoon River Poetry Review and Circumference

This weekend I was hoping it was allergies, but remembered mine don't start until the end of April/early May. This is definitely not allergies. Gideon gave me his germs. Again. I don't know where he picks this stuff up -- he's with me all day. If it's not one contagious illness, it's another.

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Suffering regret over the haircut. There was a reason for doing it.

When I was a kid, my mom used to tell me the story about the little girl with green hair.

There was a little girl with green hair.

One day her friend asked "Why do you have green hair?"

"I don't know" replied the little girl with green hair as she rubbed snot into it.

------------

Hmm, that story is lacking without the visual.

But yeah, mornings with Gideon were kind of like that. Food and snot. I broke down and now I regret not having the courage to persevere.

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I had a clairvoyant reading by a woman in England this weekend -- part of it was a numerology report that uses one's birthday and name. The intial report was incorrect because she did "Livingstone" instead of "Livingston." She redid the report.

I'd be a much more balanced and happier person if I was born "Livingstone" instead of "Livingston."

Never under-estimate that silent e.

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I got a new cell phone (old one acting flaky). One of those Motorola RAZR ones. The young man at the store was pushing me towards black but Chris said I really wanted pink and Chris was right.

This Week at No Tell

Matthew W. Schmeer aches for fresh air this week at No Tell Motel.

It Hurt Me More Than it Hurt Him

Happy Poetry Month!

Have you purchased your copy of The Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel?

If yes, thank you very much.

If not, what's the matter -- uptight or something?

Maybe this audio promo will loosen you up.

If you don't buy it after listening to that, well, I hate to break it like this, but there's something wrong with you.