01. I still have not purchased a Christmas Tree…
02. and I am not going out this weekend to purchase one.
03. So, there will be no Christmas tree this year.
04. Something about the holiday consumerism confuses me…
05. and depresses me…
06. and oddly I am grateful because book sales for the publishing imprint I helped launch is more than 20% better than projected.
07. I’m still sleeping in the living room.
08. I will not explain #7.
09. But I will explain #10.
10. My entire library and art supplies were moved to the garage.
Author: coffeehousejunkie
The lost art of writing with pen
This afternoon I was working from The Drip and noticed several other WiFi and coffee addicts smashing away on keyboards and surfing the wild world web and… and I noticed several laptop users had notebooks (some basic notebooks… others moleskin notebooks) they were writing in or reading from.
The asymmetry of new and old technology is sublime. Despite the WiFi access, people at The Drip were actually writing–regardless of proper penmanship– in analog. Not typing directly into cyberspace or IMing or emailing or blogging, but writing the ways the ancients did–placing stylus to parchment. This represents the hope that our culture still has a grasp on the necessity of reading and writing and the cognitive exercise to accomplish that task.
Subcriptions Down? Here’s some help.
For magazine publishers who are moaning about the plummeting subscription numbers, a word of advice from AdPulp (via 5280) Link.
To sell ads, you’ve got to attract a worthwhile audience. To attract an audience, you’ve got to give them compelling content. All of which convinces me that good journalism can be good business.
You know what the key ingredient to this success story is?
…we’ve had to more than triple our staff and increase our editorial budget…
Well, duh. Magazine publishers–still asking questions?
Confessions : 07
01. Homemade chocolate chip cookies taste really good at 10 p.m.
02. I’ve been sleeping in the living room since October.
03. This photo of the Burnsville Town Square reminds me of a weekend I didn’t have to work.
04. It also reminds me of how many days I missed chasing this illusion called a career.
05. I have $3 in my wallet…
06. and it has to last until payday.
07. I have not bought a Christmas tree yet…
08. because it costs more than $3.
09. And I don’t want a tree that has to be senselessly cut down and kept on life support until it slowly withers and dies around January 18th.
10. An Alpine Spruce is nice and will be decorated, watered and planted outside facing west when the time is right.
11. Also, I’m wearing a pair of Ugg boots a family member bought me nine years ago. They are comfortable, do not need repair, look great and make my other shoes jealous.
Feelin’ Asheville
It’s been a long time since I did an Asheville open-mic circuit on a Thursday night.
The Open Mic at Dripolator offered quite a full evening. Kapila hosts the event. The Drip sure pulls a crowd. Parking was an issue–I had to park two blocks away. Kapila read some of his work around 9 p.m. In one, he laments that this city is now called Ashevegas when Ashevillage is he would dream she be called.
I hung out for awhile and listened to several good singer/songwriters and poets. But I left with an annoying thought–I’m not feeling Asheville. It’s an expression I lifted from another local writer. He uses the expression when a line of prose or poetry works: “Yeah, man, I’m feelin’ it now.” I suspect the expression has jazz or blues roots.
The Courtyard Gallery Open Mic offered a sparse gathering, but I arrived after 10 p.m. So there may have been a larger crowd earlier. Jarrett Leone graciously invited me to read a couple poems I found in my notebook. The same notebook I haven’t been able open since the writers residency back in July. I read a couple blues poems because it seemed to be the only sketches I was feelin’. My voice strained to pull the words off the page and send it to the audience. Jim, a regular at the Courtyard and previously Beanstreets, greeted me warmly and told me he was thinking about me the other night when he was reading through my old chapbook, Late Night Writing
I began to feel Asheville again, but it was awkward–like kissing an ex-lover. A lover that has moved onto to someone else, and the space between us is more than physical. It is an annoying thought that troubles me tonight. I’m not feelin’ Asheville. And I don’t know why.
Asheville after the storm
I missed the bus last night. Seems like I’ve been missing a lot this week. Work has been a storm of activity. A project, a Weekly Planner, I sent to press at the beginning of the month finally arrived and looks fantastic. But like two weather fronts colliding, the Weekly Planner crashes into another project, a paperback book, and it seems the days and nights wrestle for control of my energy.
I missed The Kakalak Poets on Saturday, but caught the Bernstein and Cabanis-Brewin reading at Malaprop’s on Sunday. Their reading centered around place; specifically Western North Carolina. It was an unusually balm mid-October afternoon and I felt like a stranger at the event even though I’ve been to Malaprop’s dozens if not hundreds of times. It was the way their work spoke of this region; deeply intimate.
Marvin Bell read at UNC Asheville’s Reuter Center Wednesday night. I attend the reading. Arriving early, I found a place in the back and began reading through a copy of the American Poetry Review. It arrived last weekend, but I hadn’t had time to read it. Someone kicked my foot and I looked up to find a smiling Sebastian Matthews who found a seat next to me. That reading was marvelous and the conversation afterwards with other poets and writers was equally nice. I wanted to greet Marvin Bell, but I lost courage and remembered I had to get home and check on correspondence with the author of the paperback book project I’m developing.
Thursday night, after missing the bus, I realized I’d missed my exercise routine all week. I had a 30-minute, two mile routine that I try to accomplish three times a week. So I walked to the Asheville Transit Center as a way to get back on track. It’s two miles exactly. Since I was a block away from Asheville Brewing Company, I popped in for a quick pint of Ninja Porter and a Rocky’s Philly Cheesteak. I think Drinking Liberally was meeting there, but I had to dash off or I’d miss the bus again. I’m glad it’s Friday. I hope I don’t miss the weekend.
Resignation a bit rocky
For the last four or five weeks I’ve been tormented. Should I, or shouldn’t I continue contributing to Write Stuff. See, I’ve been extremely busy in my professional life (of publishing other people’s books) that I felt that my contributions were lacking the quality I wanted to deliver. So I emailed the site’s leader this weekend and politely resigned and promised to deliver one final contribution: Rainless among marram.
This morning I read today’s Write Stuff post about defining genres and left a comment that was DELETED! WTF! I mean, is it necessary to delete the comment?
My comment mentioned that genres are mainly decided by publishing companies to help bookstores sell books. In the same manner, the recording industry uses the same strategy to sell albums by differentiating their target audience by marketing a project as ‘country’ or ‘alt country’ or ‘punk americana country.’ I referenced Peter Rubie’s book Telling the Story: How to Write and Sell Narrative Nonfiction
So, crassly speaking, genres help sell books. Or not so crassly, genres help publishers deliver titles to the correct audiences.
Why would that get DELETED? I don’t get it. Whatever. I go back to work now.
UPDATE: Not only was my post deleted, but someone else’s (username Square1) was also deleted. Thanks to Google Reader (I RSS the Write Stuff comments), I was able to learn this detail. I wonder if there is a glitch in their comments software, because Square1 left a comment on my final Write Stuff post, Rainless among marram that was not deleted.
Confessions : 06
01. I got less than five hours of sleep last night.
02. Three poem sketches were written due to this insomnia.
03. The first time I’ve written poetry since the writers residency in July.
04. I’ve been developing other people’s books for publication,
05. and neglecting my own literary efforts.
06. I am supposed to be writing regularly column for The Indie, but I haven’t submitted anything in two months.
07. I am supposed to be doing something important right now…
08. but one spreadsheet looks just like all the others…
Write Stuff: Pursuit of the personal essay
I’ve been sharing what I learned during a 5-week writing course in my Write Stuff columns. This week’s piece, Rain–everyone needs it like everyone needs a great narrative, continues the story.
Last week’s post, Rain intensifies the drama of the question, evoked the following response:
…one of the most profound statements I’ve ever read. —Tammi
DIWATA: poster design
[Click on image to download image]
A recently completed poster design for A Third World Asheville Gathering.
Write Stuff: The art of personal essay
For my Write Stuff post I’ve been sharing what I learned during a 5-week writing course. Later I will explore what I gleaned from a 1-week writers residency.
This week’s piece, Rain intensifies the drama of the question, continues the story.
Last week’s post, Where does rain come from?, evoked the following responses:
One of the things that I don’t like about taking classes… is the people who fall over themselves to impress the instructor and can’t follow instructions. —Finn
I believe that the majority of people there are just like you – they simply want to learn the ins and outs of the craft and ultimately become better writers…. At any rate, have more confidence in your writing abilities because… judging by what you’ve contributed to this blog so far, you are well on your way to becoming one of the greats. —Karen
I’m sure that your essay didn’t seem silly… the… polished pieces are jumping ahead of the process and undermining your teacher’s efforts. —Tammi
Write Stuff: Learning the art of personal essay
Write Stuff writers and readers have expressed their interest and learning what I learned during a 5-week writing course and a 1-week writer residency. This week’s piece [link] begins the story of my experience and what I’ve learned and hope to share.
Confessions : 05
01. I did not attend Bele Chere, Asheville’s biggest party of the year.
02. I wanted to.
03. No I did not.
04. I only wanted to attend the Kenny Wayne Shepherd concert.
05. My urban garden looks pathetic.
06. I am supposed to be writing regularly column for The Indie, but I haven’t submitted a story in over a month.
07. I am supposed to be contributing original street/citizen-journalism writings to a city blog called Asheviller. (If you are familiar with Gothamist and Seattlest then you get the idea of Asheviller.)
08. I designed and launched a new website, Coffeehouse Junkie, as a beta version, but haven’t had time to develop the individual pages.
09. I’m listening to Vanessa Boyd’s Unkept Woman on iTunes.
10. My laptop’s battery is at a critical depletion point and I need to rejuice the MBP.
Intense
Currently, I am in the middle of an intense writing class. When I came across this article (via Boing Boing [Link]) this morning I was struck by this well crafted introduction:
I didn’t want to go back.
When I began reporting from Iraq in 2002, I was still a wild and somewhat naïve twenty-four-year-old kid. Five years later, I was battle-weary. I had been there longer than the American military and had kept returning long after most members of the “coalition of the willing” had pulled out. Iraq had become my initiation, my rite of passage, but instead of granting me a new sense of myself and a new identity, Iraq had become my identity. Without Iraq, I was nothing. Just another photographer hanging around New York. In Iraq, I had a purpose, a mission; I felt important.
Read the rest here [Link].
As far as a personal essay goes, the first sentence gets the reader into the story by asking “why” and presents an authentic voice that hooks the reader into the story.
Blotter Blurbs & Words: June 16
The Traveling Bonfires invade Durham
The Traveling Bonfires prepare for their first appearance in Durham. Read the press release below:
Blotter Blurbs & Words: June 16: FAME: Summer LUAU
FAME is having it’s first “open reading” night! We look forward to this as we celebrate popular local magazine, the BLOTTER. Special guests poets Pasckie Pascua and Matthew Mulder from Asheville and his friends female songwriters Sally Spring (www.sallyspring.com) and Ophir Drive (http://myspace.com/ophirdrive). We look forward to hearing what they have to say!
Join us at RINGSIDE: 308 West Main Street, Durham.
Doors open at 10pm: 18+
Urban Gardening
Three months ago I pushed words and metaphors into the ground and despite the drought the ground broke with lovely green things and white flowers.
I think I should name them poems, but my children call them basil and tomato and peas and peppers.
Is Asheville the wrong place to try to make it as a poet?
A call from an acquaintance in NYC prompted me to ask the question: Is Asheville the wrong place to try to make it as a poet? The Check out the D.C. scene and the Baltimore scene.
Overheard on the bus:
A couple, who appear to be on intimate terms, converse at the bus stop.
The man (wearing a Cradle of Filth t-shirt) tells the woman: “Suicide Girls is art–not pornography.”
The woman (smokes her second cigarette in ten minutes): “No. The guy who takes photos of a thousand nude people in Mexico is an artist. Suicide Girls is pornography.”
The man: “Some pornography is art. Suicide Girls is art because they perform to music.”
Bus arrives.
Write Stuff: A definition poem
Recently inspired by the poetical form sometimes referred to as a “definition poem” (akin to a recipe poem), I offered a poem sketch on Write Stuff. Link.
Sebastian Matthews on national broadcast of The Writer’s Almanac
I woke up to the voice of Garrison Keillor reading “Live at the Village Vanguard” by Sebastian Matthews from, We Generous: Poems. © Red Hen Press. Link.
Tonight at Osondu Booksellers
Tonight, April 28, 7-9pm
The Traveling Bonfires & Osondu Booksellers present
Matthew Mulder, Margaret Osondu, Pasckie Pascua, and guest poets.
Osondu Booksellers, Waynesville, NC.
FREE.
For info, (828) 456 8062 or (828) 505-0476.
The Traveling Bonfires & Osondu Booksellers present
Matthew Mulder, Margaret Osondu, Pasckie Pascua, and guest poets.
Osondu Booksellers, Waynesville, NC.
FREE.
For info, (828) 456 8062 or (828) 505-0476.
on the radio : a poem sketch
Rest my head in
hand near the table
where a small black
radio plays an
instrumental I
have never heard but
know it… know its
emotional
audio content.
Notes plucked
from guitar strings
weave and release
a story that
resonates deep
within my soul
and makes me want
to cry and hope.
The announcer
says his name is
Ottmar Liebert
but does not share
the name… the name
of the song that
makes me want to cry.
Vanessa Boyd : Hunger : Digipack Design
Copies finally arrived. Actually, they arrived more than a week ago, but I’ve been rather busy and I am just getting around to posting about its arrival.
The Hunger CD design was completed months ago. The design process was completed via teleconference (Vanessa Boyd living in New York City) and digital transfer (i.e. emailing art/corrections/finals via high-speed internet). It’s nice to see the final manufactured product. Click on the image to see the inside and back of the package design on my Flickr photostream.
Coffeehouse Junkie 