the ants are back.

apparently it is their house and we only rent it from them over the winter break.

I CAN'T WAIT TO GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE.

sitemeter

sometimes i wish sitemeter could give me REASONs for certain google / netscape searches.

really.

especially YOU, UC Santa Cruz person persons!

and the woowie

person... 

and the people who always google search raleigh/durham craigslist and come here, instead of going to craigslist.

but you, UC Santa Cruz...

you i am quite curious about.

***

what should i do in st louis? i'm there the whole weekend hanging out with my best friend from jr high. Saturday night i'm watching basketball in the hotel. otherwise i'm free.

???

i like when people google search woowie and find our blog, it really is quite wonderful, really.

hey, ST LOUIS!

Observable Readings presents
EIGHT KATES!
April 3, 2008 - 8PM

Kate Colby, Cate Marvin, Katie Ford, Kate Greenstreet, Katie Peterson,
Kate Pringle, Kate Schapira, and Katy Lederer
will fly to St. Louis and read
together on one unprecedented occasion!!

Okay, so it's not entirely unprecedented.
You may remember the
Ten Jens...


The Five Aarons...

and maybe even the Three Stephanies.
But who knew there were so many Kate
poets?


*At the Bottleworks in Maplewood* *FREE!*

For directions and more info: http://observable.org


* * * * * * *

Kate Colby is author of Unbecoming Behavior (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2007) and
Fruitlands (Litmus Press, 2006). Recent work can be found in Bay Poetics,
New American Writing and Vanitas. She lives in Providence.

Cate Marvin's first book, World's Tallest Disaster (Sarabande, 2001), was
awarded the Kathryn A. Morton Prize by Robert Pinksy. She is co-editor with
Michael Dumanis of Legitimate Dangers: American Poets of the New Century
(Sarabande, January 2006). Her poems have appeared in The Paris Review,
Poetry, Slate, and elsewhere.

Katie Ford is the author of Deposition and Colosseum (Graywolf Press, 2002
and 2008), as well as a chapbook, Storm (Marick Press, 2007). Her work has
appeared in The American Poetry Review, Poets & Writers, Partisan Review,
Seneca Review, and Ploughshares. She is Poetry Editor of New Orleans Review
and currently teaches at Franklin & Marshall College.

Kate Greenstreet is the author of case sensitive (Ahsahta Press, 2006) and
Learning the Language (Etherdome Press, 2005). Visit her online at
kickingwind.com.

Katie Peterson is the author of This One Tree, published by New Issues.
Beginning in the Fall of 2007, she will be the Robert Aird Professor of
Humanities and Poet in Residence at Deep Springs College. She was born in
California.

Kate Pringle has TWO chapbook: Temper and Felicity are Lovers, out on TAXT and, The Stills on duration press. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Fence, 580 Split, Fourteen Hills, 42opus, AliceBlue, Denver Quarterly, Dusie, foursquare, string of small machines, etc.

Kate Schapira lives and writes in Providence, where she organizes the
Publicly Complex reading series, and teaches throughout Rhode Island. Her
chapbook, Phoenix Memory, is available from horse less press.

Katy Lederer is the author of Winter Sex (Verse Press, 2002) and The
Heaven-Sent Leaf (BOA Editions, forthcoming 2008), as well as the memoir
Poker Face: A Girlhood Among Gamblers (Crown, 2003).

Eileen Myles vs. Justin Timberlake

This is old, but I just found it and thought it HYSTERICAL. How can this guy be serious:

I, Necrophiliac
By Rich Baiocco 02.12.07

I’m not a native of San Diego—and chances are neither are you—but I’ve lived here long enough to call it home, and long enough to take offense to Eileen Myles’ dismissive comments about San Diego’s arts scene in the City Beat cover story (Alone In San Diego, www.sdcitybeat.com/article.php?id=5298) a few weeks ago. First of all, who cares about Eileen Myles? Secondly, who cares about poetry? It’s 2007, and unless you have a band or a movie, it’s extremely difficult to make an artistic impact on society, or cultivate the type of vibrant, thriving scene that Myles was apparently looking for in San Diego. I can’t remember the last time I was so moved by a poem that I bothered to memorize it, yet I know all the words to almost every Justin Timberlake song and I don’t even really like him that much; it’s just saturation, numbers. Sure there are poetry readings here, but what usually comes out of them is less an awakening or a revolution and more a fleeting sense of community perpetuated by likeminded lonely poets desperate to be a part of something; maybe an inspiration or two, and maybe, just maybe, a good poem. And NYC, the “artist-friendly” mecca that Eileen Myles fled, is filled with so many more desperate loners per city block that a poet with even the slightest bit of hustle and enthusiasm can build a scene; but then what? It’s just numbers. It’s just poetry.

i live in a red state.

i have yet to meet any Republicans.
maybe our mortgage broker is a Republican... if he is, i don't want to know.

i was told by WRAL news that North Carolinians prefer McCain. over half the state will be voting for him.


they must live in Charlotte because i don't think they let Republicans into the Triangle.

jw

thanks jeff, for this jonathan williams post

i was

going to tell you all about my blood last week while it was still fresh
in my mind, but then i saw that my beloved magdalena had actually posted
something [and it was much more interesting than my blood] so i didn't.

but now that i have a green bruise and three needle marks on my right arm i
am reminded that i want to tell you about how i got them


so, i walk into the INJECTION ROOM and i'm thinking, WHAT? and also, wow, i still think of the breakfast club when i hear/see the word INJECTION [i'm old?] and i'm like... aren't i just suppose to drink the contrast? but, no, i get to drink it and get injected with it [and i did say "i've been injected with contrast" all day after that]...

so the guy is getting my veins IV-ready and i'm waiting and he says "you have trouble with needles?" and i say, all tough, "nah, that tattoo took 18 hours. i'm fine with needles." and he's like, "okay."so he goes in the wrong vein and makes some joke about my veins not being very generous and i say something about that being bullshit because i bleed quite well and so he goes in another vein and it works and he is putting the catheter in for the IV and i'm not looking because needles are fine but catheters freak me out.

and then i hear HIM scream...

look down

and my blood is spraying out all over the him.

and. after i am done squirting blood all over the room and him,

that's when i notice he's not even wearing those latex gloves that he's fucking supposed to be wearing.

so i say, "DUDE. aren't you worried that my blood just sprayed all over you?"

and then, yeah, he doesn't have an excuse so it doesn't matter what he says next.

but, damn.

i was so distracted and worried about reacting to the contrast that i completely failed to notice the lack of latex.

that's my story.



anyway. my spleen is fine. i just really wrenched a muscle and am not going to be able to run in that race on the 3/29... and i haven't been able to run for two weeks... which is quite depressing.

i'm writing a lot.

a lot a lot.

what are you doing?

For the Record...

I just listened to several Jeremiah Wright sermons and I can't say that I thought he said anything that was untrue. What do white people think is going on in this country? My dad just tried to tell me that Wright was a radical. I think my dad just doesn't know any black people or any black history. Why is it so hard for Americans to admit that there is something wrong in this country?

just out

i have a new chap on duration press called the stills!

tried to go to work but almost puked and was so woozy all the letters were spinning on the screen. 

individually.

maggie picked me up from work. came home. passed out. now i am awake and not woozy.

going to try and do some work at home now.

i love my job. 

i hate my ribs.

codeine is the kiss of death.

i busted my ribs.

codeine is fine to sleep but such a wretched morning makes.

i can't run in saturday's 5K w/ ken. i am going back to work today, thank god.

been on the couch trying to read and lay flat for two days.

weiner, berrigan, kafka, & hardy.

a lot of CNN and 5 episodes of the sopranos.

how're you?

the lovely eden reads

the lovely eden reads
Originally uploaded by feeb

more photos from the reading.

molly's gay parrots

molly's gay parrots
Originally uploaded by minor americans

minor american reading: osucha & nicholas at molly rowe's.

Late Night Crowd

Late Night Crowd
Originally uploaded by Ken Rumble

swedish fish photo

tonight !!!!!

TESSA JOSEPH NICHOLAS
& EDEN OSUCHA!
you'll have to email me
to get the location folks...
it is someplace ELSE this time!
kathrynlpringle@gmail.com


Tessa Joseph Nicholas' poems have appeared in journals such as Sulfur, Seneca Review, and Talisman. She received her MFA from Cornell University and her PhD from UNC-Chapel Hill, where she still teaches English and creative writing. She lives in Chatham County, North Carolina, with her husband, baby son, and dogs.









Eden Osucha teaches American literature and culture, and Women's Studies at Bates College in Lewiston, Maine. Before her current incarnation as an openly feminist English professor, and all the time in graduate school that preceded it, she worked as a waitress, copy editor, white water rafting guide, office manager,freelance writer,rape crisis hot-line counselor, dental assistant, artist's model, barista, flute instructor, and production assistant for the History Channel. Her writing has appeared in online and in print in MiPoesias, The Village Voice, Talisman, and The Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel, and a few other places.

sestina.

a while back we had a sestina writing contest at work //we wrote them off-the-clock boss// and chris vitielloposted his on his blog and i didn't post mine because, well, because his is so damn good and writing in the wake of chris vitiello is like touring at the same time as Nirvana [some of you know what i mean]... but now i'm going to post it just because i had fun and i kind of like it // we were supposed to write really bad ones but mine isn't too bad. so here you go.
******
URBAN SESTINA.

garbage boomed on ( a cross ( all dilated almos’ twice sunken city
resemble on the wall she say: itiz da URINISKI, a downy co-llect
where dj equals pirate equals protagonist equals a little scranton-agile
dusted an’ smooth going down, jest like deys told so, possible
but isn’t so much the orifice of the nose that is nether-bloom, nor bud
but that language is a one-room efficiency

suite. o, so sweet an’ all efficiency.
not so loud, how a tree plant itself there. there, there, o , city
crackin’ it at dawn, blessed be thy chains, thy bicycle, and thy bud.
we isn’t goan ta’ pretend no more that is a collection
of all the little things we could a been, Moses, even, possibly
or that wild animal theater attendant, all ‘ceptional an’ agile

smiling no matter what reptile is shredding at yer pants, you ack all agile
then, don’t ya? or else you is stuck in the absolute INefficiency
of yer own damn SELF. possibly, or no possibly
this city
is gonna collect
taxes from yer poor, budding

ass, bud.
one night i hadta walk ‘long the damn telephone line, all agile
an’ shit jest to collect
my money from da’ tenants who is not-so-efficiency
paying me my rent. holla’ dat you city
dwellin’ possibles

first you gots to get fluent. ‘til then it be p to the izzo (possible)
jest like la chupucabra an’ church, lady-bud
you think this is the small time but i tells you, this here is CITYcity
and you jest have to scrum and agile
one up. no, thank you sir, might i have another INefficiency
the US is guardin’ dem collectors.

poor is poor, but one day you might have yr dream : a cul-de-sac, a small collection
of swimming pool possibilities
a righteous appetite and a disaffected one-hit wonder. efficiently
lassoing – hey, what version of lasso do you use, bud?
you is just an anvilparachute portrayin’ all agility
like this is what city is when you knows it all CITYcity

hey, tho. anx, but call collect, next time that lady-bud
you been budding for, possibly? she be all Beowulf on yo’ agile
.(yet delectable) efficiency. remember it when yo’ broke: this here is CITYcity

The John Holmes of Baltimore

The John Holmes of Baltimore
Originally uploaded by Ken Rumble

getting to know jamie g-p is an experience i will never forget.

MINOR AMERICAN READING: 3/8 @ 8PM!

TESSA JOSEPH NICHOLAS
& EDEN OSUCHA!
you'll have to email me
to get the location folks...
it is someplace ELSE this time!
kathrynlpringle@gmail.com


Tessa Joseph Nicholas' poems have appeared in journals such as Sulfur, Seneca Review, and Talisman. She received her MFA from Cornell University and her PhD from UNC-Chapel Hill, where she still teaches English and creative writing. She lives in Chatham County, North Carolina, with her husband, baby son, and dogs.









Eden Osucha teaches American literature and culture, and Women's Studies at Bates College in Lewiston, Maine. Before her current incarnation as an openly feminist English professor, and all the time in graduate school that preceded it, she worked as a waitress, copy editor, white water rafting guide, office manager,freelance writer,rape crisis hot-line counselor, dental assistant, artist's model, barista, flute instructor, and production assistant for the History Channel. Her writing has appeared in online and in print in MiPoesias, The Village Voice, Talisman, and The Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel, and a few other places.

guillermo parra, jamie lewis, & i...

are east-campus-running rockstars.

we made it before the storm.

now there are tornado watches.

i have no clue how to deal with tornados.

i much prefer earthquakes. 

)no warning(

i am sweating profusely.

blog: i think if you got a facelift we could maybe work something out.

if you would just stop trying to be so damn cool and name-droppy we'd get somewhere...

Irresponsibility is good. damn good.

i think i saw a dead bear just off the freeway on the way home from work.

i think i am going to run outside in the almost-rain.

i have been extremely irresponsible.

maybe the bear was not dead, just sleeping.

are there california bears in north carolina?

i'm still not speaking to my blog.

i meant bear bears not gay bears.

ps

i'm crawling into bed with Irresponsibility tonight and you can't stop me.

dear blog.

in some ways i pity you. you seem so empty now without me. as if you had no prior identity. no true sense of self. even so. you shouldn't have torn up all my books while i was in baltimore. that was really uncalled for. the pants i don't mind. they're too big for me now anyway. but... my books? what were you thinking? you are such an asshole blog. our therapist said you might "act out" like this. 

yr so fucking predictable. 

and typical, really, it is so OBVIOUS why you, BLOG, would tear up my books... jealous of other pages getting my attention. what an asshole.

i want you to know i had such a good time without you this weekend. and the fact that you sabotaged my cameras...... did nothing to dampen my mood. pictures were still taken. films were still made. all without you.

klp