Archive for the 'Work' Category

Truth in advertising

Published on January 6, 2010 in Total Wreck and Work. 6 Comments

I spent a piece of this morning in a cotton gown. After my checkup I was standing by the nurses’ station and looking at the big framed display of baby pictures. One of the nurses came by and asked me if I was picking out one of my own. I didn’t understand, so she pointed at the photos and asked if I was picking out one of the babies for myself. I didn’t want to insult the photo collage so I said Yes. Then, so she wouldn’t doubt my sincerity, I  added, “That would be great.” I went home and ate an avocado.

this is where avocados come from

I went to the mailbox in my robe to see if Sleepingfish had arrived. It had not. I am hopeful for tomorrow. My postal carrier is named Norman.

I’m looking sidelong at a story about a donut shop in Beaumont, TX. I knew when I wrote it that it didn’t have the real ending yet. Yesterday, I relocated the couple to a Days Inn.

all of them, in the world

Last week I ate a Texas-shaped waffle. The first ingredient on the syrup packet that accompanied it was corn syrup and the second was high fructose corn syrup.

There’s a ghost town in Arizona called Total Wreck. It is home to Total Wreck Mine, which made $500,000 in seven years and is casually a death trap to this day.

“Getting in trouble is a fake idea.”

Published on November 15, 2009 in well anyway later and Work. 1 Comment

Office hours. The adjunct behind me is doing a lot of grunting. Another came into the office, picked up the stapler, said “Did you staple things in college? I did,”  and walked out.

I’ve been away in Oregon and North Texas. November in Rockwall is warm like springtime but with brown leaves, which makes for disorienting feelings. In Portland I kept eating macaroni. Now I’m home. I live in a tree.

I like how when kids keep journals on paper they end each entry with “Well anyway later” or similar. Somebody start a literary journal where all the stories have to end that way. Somebody start a literary journal where the stories are all already written by the editors and writers have to pick one attach their names. Subtitle “Redefining the creative process.”

One of my students gave me a flyer advertising a Tobias Wolff reading that happened last week. I’m kind of sorry I missed the reading but the picture of Tobias Wolff on the flyer makes it look like he’s selling oatmeal.

don't start none won't be none

don't start none won't be none

All author photos should depict the authors as their true selves instead of propped up pre-dead. Some would still be stuffed but the best would be destroying. Raymond Carver would be ripping apart a phone book with his teeth. Tobias Wolff all driving a herd of bulls over a cliffside. Barry Hannah setting an armoire ablaze. Joyce Carol Oates severing the fingers of a youth. Hopefully it goes without saying that this goes for all people and not just writers. Everybody’s an artist. Well anyway later.

Things I ain’t mad about

Published on November 3, 2009 in Featherproof Books, Hank Williams Jr. and Work. 10 Comments
  1. Maud Newton gave Featherproof a little blurby on mini books.
  2. I’m in charge of the turkey for Thanksgiving. Has anyone ever grilled a turkey?
  3. Publishers Weekly chose men for their Best Books of 2009. So what if the aesthetic of this panel of editors happened to involve only men this time? I would find it insulting to be the token female placed on the list for anything other than the strength of my words.
  4. There is a new gender issue you can get mad about every day if you want.
  5. Some of the people complaining about this PW thing are suggesting books by women that they loved. Everybody wins in the stretch.
  6. Massive deadline day. I wrote 4,000 words and learned about what it really means to earn a PharmD. My brains feel poached. Tomorrow I’m going to knock out some educational writing–you know, for kids–and clean this cold place. I’ll make a dust nest and fall asleep inside.
  7. Congratulations to ameliagray.com reader “Sasha,” who won a copy of Annalemma 5 by claiming that his favorite Hank Williams Jr. song was his guest vocals on Kid Rock’s “Cadillac Pussy” wherein the honky tonk pioneer’s son sings, “She had a Cadillac pussy.” I’ll send a second copy of Annalemma 5 to Hank Williams Jr. for that line.
  8. The phone was stressing me out so I hid it.
  9. All I can do anymore is write lists, watch football and update my fake Twitter.
  10. I keep coming back to this Absent. Kim Gek Lin Short, Marc McKee, and Reb Livingston.
  11. They’re still filming Cheaters. Someone over there updates the Official Cheaters Blog twice a month. This all happens whether you regard it or not.

Texas Books

Published on November 2, 2009 in Hank Williams Jr. and Kyle Beachy. 1 Comment

Jeff Salamon’s swan song at the Statesman was an optimistic article on Austin’s writing community. “Austin has had a literary scene for years,” said local writer Owen Egerton. “I just think it has exploded even more so over the last 10 years or so.” Just in time for the Texas Book Festival, which was lots of fun and included an astronaut and Margaret Atwood. I was on a panel about writing dark fiction with Dan Chaon, Scott Blackwood, and Kyle Beachy.

The Literary Death Match was a time and a half. A crowd of 150+ in a Methodist church. Sam Elliott was in the house. Beachy talked about blowing up Graceland. Jeff Martin suggested that Nobel laureates get to take a sub-subway while everyone else is stuck on the regular subway. Jason Sheehan fit three pounds of sausage into a one-pound casing. Jane Smiley nearly bit Richard Russo, who nearly bit my stockings. I read some threats. Owen Egerton described a Xanadu of sensual delights. I answered some Texas Trivia and won it for the home team. I’d like to dedicate this victory to the Corn Palace.

Five Things was equal if not more. Readers included Beachy, Christian Lander, Blackwood, and Tyler Stoddard Smith reading Texas-centric prose. My friend Spencer was a handmade robot, which gave me a small but significant feeling of pure joy every time I looked at him.

spencer
Thank you

After all my hawing, I wore the same thing I wore two Halloweens ago. I sang Hank Williams Jr. and a butterfly got caught in my wig and next year I’ll come up with another costume, really, probably.

A wise man said I looked like the ocean

A wise man said I looked like the ocean

Great weekend, everyone. Let’s wrap it up. I’m hearing rumblings of multiple new reading series starting up in town (Betsy Crane is among the idea-makers). Between that and the kind crowd I met at the festival, I’m feeling energy and life running through the sticky intangibles of the Austin scene.

Tonight I saw Gogol Bordello, bringing earplugs to avoid the buzzing like what followed Thursday’s Drive By Truckers show. Tomorrow’s a big deadline day. NaNoWriMo started yesterday; I haven’t participated in years, but it makes November feel like a month of high hopes, fruitful projects, and the happy grip of deadlines.

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