Holiday Wish List #2

4. Eggers' What is the What




5. Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane Over the Sea (33 1/3 book by Kim Cooper)



6. Kensington Digital FM Transmitter/Auto Charger (Black). This is too long a road trip to be messing with cds and hunting for the clearest NPR.


7. A used David Schrigley book or two.



8. Camping/Tenting supplies. Primarily A and I are taking a chunk of the summer to go roadtripping in the Yukon and Alaska. We're going to rent a car and Drive (capital D). We'll be doing a lot of camping/tenting. So we'll need to update our camping/tenting supplies.







9. A zip-up hooded sweatshirt (grey and/or black).



10. Socks. Mostly ones with patterns.



11. I'm not sure I have the energy to list all the music I want at this time. Itunes $?

Holiday Wish List #1

This is the first installment of Holiday Wish List. There will be one or two more as I think on it. Here is just what was in my head at the moment.

1. A Ushanka. My Cleveland Browns headscarf is not doing the trick. They're a tad more expensive, but I probably would prefer a Gorbachev-style Astrakhan.



2. A year's supply of quality fake tattoos. And not corny ones either. Cool ones, like anarchy symbols or giraffes or black panthers.




3. I am embarassed to say that I have not yet had a chance to buy these books. I should have them already, but sadly I do not. If you do not give them to me, I will buy them myself. Graham Foust, Linh Dinh, Tao Lin, Ben Lerner, Michael Earl Craig, Tina Brown Celona, and Alex Lemon.



*













*This image is supposed to instead represent Linh Dinh's Borderless bodies.

Hyah! I'm done for the semester (in an academic sense). I'm now wearing the first day version of the outfit that I will wear constantly for a couple weeks. I was happy with how my paper turned out. I'm not going to post it here, but you can have the title: Problematizing the Removal of the Wink Wink: A New Sincerity in the Context of the Post Avant. Thank you to the following public rhetoricians for their fuel: (straight from the Works Cited page): Aitken, Behrle, Canary, CWHOBB (have you seen what is over there now? This gave me much to consider), Corey, Hart (I just wrote Corey, Hart), Epstein, Glenum, Hoy, Jensen, Mayhew, Massey, Mohammad (2), Octopus, Robinson (3), Silliman, Snyder, Sullivan and Tost.

There's just one more hurdle before I'm done with this semester. I'm writing a paper examining the legitimacy of a New Sincerism within the context of the Post-Avant. Maybe I'll let you know how that turns out. Maybe some of you insiders can drop me a line today--give me some fertilizer for this thing. I've got myself holed up in my dark little office for today and tomorrow. Then I'll have some time off to hit a brand new to-do list, a fun one, for the most part. One with the word Octopus on it.

I doubt you'll ever need this, but just in case: here's a detailed floorplan I created of my house labeled entirely in Russian. Right now, I'm blogging in the lower right portion of the house, in my кабинет. As you can see, this comrade got a 100.

I have 3 poems from this manuscript I'm working on in issue #1 of this impressive young po-journal called Absent. Ch ch ch check it out.

And check out UNL's undergrad mag, Laurus. It grows a little stronger right in front of us. Keep your eye on Sarah Fattig. I'm telling you this now. Mark the date.

This weekend my sister, K, and her boyfriend, J, came over to help us decorate for the holidays. We put Kenny and Dolly on the box and drank some cider. Ate a few yuletide burritos.


Our tree as it gets netted. Its like a right of passage for a tree.


From left to right: J, tree (mid-decoration), K.


A and the man who sold us our tree. He had a nice leather jacket with a black panther on the back. He also thought I took too much rope with which to secure the tree to our vehicle. I disagreed with him.


We put lights on our fence/pillars out front.

Volume #7 of Lincoln's own, The Cupboard, is done. And it is free and ready for you to print it out and fold it up according to its new easier to use pdf instructions for assembly (or if you're in town you could find one at a local hangout). This one is all about the concept of doneness. So, a poet, songwriter, breadmaker, high school history teacher, mix cd compilationist, book editor and graphic designer all write about what it means to be done. The Cupboard!

I was invited by one of my students to attend an invite-your-professor dinner at his fraternity house. I went though I'm not exactly sure why. Perhaps because of the following reasons: it is difficult for me to turn down free food and I have never before been inside a fraternity house. It was surprisingly pleasant with the exception of the pre-dinner chanting and elaborate introductions. I was completely underdressed apparently. I was rocking my chucks and a Matt Pond PA shirt. The fraternity brothers were all wearing slacks and ties. And the other professors were wearing their gear: elbow patches and pantsuits and whatnot. So my elaborate introduction was a little uncomfortable. The food was good. A chicken & swiss dish. Apple pie a la mode. They had their own chef. I ate 3 helpings of warm vegetables. I asked questions like: so, can girls stay over? I was a little out of my element. But it was a nice gesture of this student. And they had a terrific trophy case.

I took a random selection of poetry journals and books (excluding stuff they just aren't ready for) off my office shelf and then passed them around my freshman English class and had them partake in a guided conversation about some of the stuff they were reading to each other. Based on 50 minutes of poetry perusal and discussion, the clearcut winner of the period was Chris Tonelli's Wide Tree, as perhaps expected due to its instantaneous and unabashed commitment to raw and tiny bursts of delight, and the clearcut loser was Michael Earl Craig's Can You Relax in My House. These initial reactions, for very different reasons, managed to deepen my already deep love for both books.

I'm recovering. I've been a real glutton over break. Mmmphrrrgg. Above is a pic of the aftermath of the Huskers beating Colorado on Friday. Next up: the Sooners.

Also: good po-news: I got the Denver Quarterly to bite on 3 poems of mine. It was on top of my list of mags to get into. Huzzah!

We're going to the farm south of Norfolk for food and family and board games. Then back to Lincoln for football games. Then Grand Island for food and family and board games. Then Council Bluffs for food and family. I'm putting a sheet over the large pile of academics in the center of the room.

And know this: I'm thankful for you. Today I am thankful for you all.

We've completed our latin dance course. My hips are kinda sore. Here are my favorite latin dances in order:

1. Samba
2. Rumba
3. Salsa
4. Cha Cha
5. Tango

We've had beautiful weather the past few days. Beautiful weather for raking our flat roof, so I raked the roof.

Rake the roof!

M and I have a lot to be thankful for. Last night's Clean Part was huggably brilliant. A healthy crowd got to hear some remarkable poets reading remarkably some of their newest stuff. I'm now so looking forward to all their new books. GC is very in command of his poems and his voice. He made me hang onto every word. One of the best readers I've heard this year since Thursday night's Robyn Schiff and last CP's Gabriel Gudding.

Here is a pic of Kerri Sonnenberg in the Sheldon elevator taking pictures of its texture/pattern. This is not a pic of Kerri Sonnenberg doing a submarine periscope-adjustment mime routine in an elevator. This is the most documented elevator trip I've ever been on.

It is a good time to be a writer in Lincoln. I'm finding The Cupboard, a lit pamphlet full of anonymous prose stylings, free for the taking in all kinds of campus and downtown hotspots. I pick it up for my hot chocolate read instead of the newspaper (I gave up coffee as soon as I started it (see my post about a month ago)). And the undergraduate campus literary mag, Laurus, just launched a digital arm. It now has two arms, and is much more efficient and attractive (the benefit of two arms is vast).

GC Waldrep, Kerri Sonnenberg, and Kristi Maxwell are coming all the way to Lincoln to read their poems for you at the last Clean Part of 2006. It's at the Sheldon at 7. Don't be square, seriously.

Props to Ben for making the poster(s). We've been discussing the poster's narrative. I have my conclusions, but I don't want to give them away. Instead, please submit your own take on this narrative in my comment box. Lets do this. I want to hear it. Clean your parts! Seriously.

A is in Chicago this weekend and I am alone. I haven't left the house since Friday's No Name. The house is clean. The papers are graded. The Cornhuskers have been watched. Some new poems of mine have been born. One of my top-fav young poets sent me his new chapbook last week and I read it: Ryan Murphy's Poems for the American Revolution. These poems have an old old soul in a soft new body. I'm in a mid-90's Built-to-Spill/Modest Mouse (Interstate 8) mood. I'm rocking my Shit Happens hat, pearl buttons and new beard. Vacuuming.

A very small selection of things that should be on your to-do list:

I've been pretty happy with my po-writing as of late, and the new manny is making progress. In fact, I sent out some poems to two mags today--something I haven't done (unsolicited) since April. Feels good.

And it is really hot here. The heat, for November, is a tad apocalyptic. I'm going to go grade papers outside in this lovely apocalyptic heat.

I voted today. I feel dirty though. The experience wasn't quite the same as it was in Ohio. In these woods, it is a little less satisfying because there is such a small number of candidates that completely represent my own beliefs. All the candidates pander, more or less, to conservative/Religious Nebraska values--even the Dems. And the third party system here is extremely broken. Regardless, I cancelled out my neighbor's vote.

Reading:

Hitler's Mustache by Peter Davis
The Wash by Adam Clay (I've been going back to it)
Big Crisis by Nate Pritts
Revelated by Matt Hart
I Have Not Been Able to Get Through to Everyone by Anna Moschovakis
Cousins by Alli Warren
Octopus #8 chapbooks (in their pre-published forms)
Back issues of Skein and No
La Petite Zine #19
Student papers (Inquiry into Pop-Culture)

Listening:

Jens Lekman's Oh You're So Silent Jens
The Annuals' Be He Me
Grizzly Bear Yellow House
Matt Pond PA Several Arrows Later
Smashing Pumpkins' Gish

I wrote a rough draft of an essay for my Russian language class. It is about me. My new bio.

Меня зовут Зак. Теперь я учусь в университете штата Небраска. Прежде, чем я учился в колледже oзaркс. Я английский аспирант. Я изучаю английский язык и поэзию. Я знаю английский язык и поэзию хорошо, но я знаю русский язык плохо. Моя жена, Эллисон, и я имею маленький дом в Линкольне. Перед этим, я жил в Миссури, Штате Огайо, и Штате Монтана. В Штате Огайо, я был преподавателем. В Штате Монтана, я был девятью одним одним диспетчерами. Чтобы работать как, диспетчер был труден. Я имею двух котов. Их названия Maлкmус и сaлинджeр. Мы также имеем собаку. Ее название Граки. Она живет в доме.

Мой pодители жил в Миссури, теперь они живут в Каунсил Блафсе. Мой папа удален преподаватель. Моя мама работает в складе. Я имею сестру. Ее название келси. Я люблю Эллисон, моего папу, мою маму, и мою сестру. Они говорят на английском языке только. Я изучаю русский язык в университете, потому что я хочу перевести поэзию Daниил Xaрmс. Я издаю мою поэзию в журналах и книге в феврале 2007. Это название Иск Человека.

I'm knee deep in N.H. Pritchard. The Matrix. Eecchhooeess. I'm a little bit in love. My mind is vibrating, and getting a little warm. I may have something to say about these collections later.

This is my second Halloween as a homeowner. A will be at work until later, so it'll be my job to fire up the jack-o-lanterns and the porch light and the hot cider and have awkward exchanges with adolescent strangers in either inappropriate or underdeveloped/underconceptualized costumes. You should come by. I'll give you a small box of grape nerds.

Despite Aaron McCollough not being able to make the trip to Lincoln because of anti-poetry forces (weather/planes), the reading was sooo good. I mean that. The crowd was healthy. Matt Hart and Karla Kelsey know their poems very well, and know exactly how to read them. I was hypnotized with joy. I only regret not spending enough time with these two, and Brett (Matt's friend who came along) --again: anti-poetry forces. I have a feeling there'd never be enough time for this bunch, but I didn't even come close. I did snap some pictures though.


This was my view for a half-hour or so. Karla is studying her Forklift manuals and Matt is crushing a bird into invisibility.


Karla Kelsey reading from this.


Mathias is warming up the people.


This is the lobby of the Sheldon where the Clean Part readings happen. There's Matt and Brett and Anthony Hawley, I think, and Karla.

Carving pumpkins is something that I do.


This Clean Part pumpkin will be raffled off Saturday night. If you come to the reading, you might be the lucky sumbeeyah that wins it and has to find a place to throw it away so you won't have to haul it around all night.


I like to carve pumpkins that are sickly zombie-like pumpkins, or appear upset about some sort of injustice.

I know you are for bicameralism, but it has been over 2 months. Can we move on? Can we? I mean really.

Tonight: grocery store, reading Barbara Guest's Fair Realism and Forces of Imagination, carving a pumpkin or two, watching some Tigers/Cards, making one or two important phone calls, writing a paper.

I'm currently a little taken with this.

If you love yourself, or even if you don't, the Clean Part reading is where your self should be at 7pm on Saturday. The Sheldon Art Gallery. Some of the best poems written in this world today will be read by their poets. Aaron McCollough. Karla Kelsey. Matt Hart. They are coming by plane and 10 hour car trip from Cincinnati to read for you. And for free. And you might might win a poetry jack-o-lantern via raffle.

I am trying to recover from the best football game I've ever been to in Lincoln, but ultimately, the most heartbreaking.

I have a very old-school old-timey construction-workerish metallic lunch pail that I bring my lunch to school in everyday. Today, as I was crossing a busy intersection, diagonally, my thigh knocked the pail's buckle and my lunch spilled out onto the street. There will quite a few people walking around me. It was very cold out and I remember looking at my hands as they collected the food--they seemed especially white--and my sandwich, apple and soda seemed so vulnerable spread out there on the concrete, and so soft, and the street seemed especially dangerous and hard. It has been a while since I've felt that small, for those few seconds.

Fall break has given me two extra days to myself and I have apples, this big lasagne, graded papers, extra sleep, some quality time with A, some extra reading, two new poem drafts, a slightly cleaner house, and clean/ironed clothes to show for it. Thank you fall break.

And thank you Cubs for giving us Lou Pinella. Lou has the know-how to take the team from apathy/empty-seated disgrace to A-Rod stocked (possibly) bitter disappointment (I'm picturing the 2001 Mariners).

A, M, A & I went apple picking in Nebraska City. It was fun and all, despite there being almost no apples left on the trees, and the fact that we were apple hunting underneath icy sheets of rain.


Ashley threw up a whole apple.


My new favorite picture of M.


Empty bagged A, hunting for the elusive golden Jonathan.


Me. And the last apple on Earth.

If you are a sinner, or if you have chemicals in your eyes, the perfect book has arrived. Adam Clay's The Wash. If you buy anything this month with the extra money you have left over, buy this. No, buy this instead of paying your gas bill if thats what it comes to. This is more important than heat. This makes me happy about poetry, etc.

In order to help promote the new issue of UNL's undergraduate literary mag, Laurus, I'll be reading some Man Suit b-sides for a few minutes by the fountain in front of the union as part of a perpetual 2.5 hour reading this afternoon. I'll also fill some space by reading a few of my very short poems, including such classics as:

Untitled

Inside, we made children
sandwiches.

How Do You Tell Someone Their Shirt is Too Tight

How do you
tell someone
their shirt
is too
tight?

Untitled

Who's your favorite president?
Mine's Polk.

Untitled

Remember me?
We met in little beague.

Reading the Collected Books of Jack Spicer and Copper Nickle 6 (The Anne Boyer issue (her images are stunning)).

My IPod is rocking Heartless Bastards' All This Time and Strike Anywhere's Dead FM.

Grading my students inquiries into stories by K-Vonn, Johnny-Up, Flann-O, and A-Bend.

My hips are sore from doing so much rumba. I ate cresent roll hot dogs tonight. Neither of these two statements are innuendo.

I've been indulging in one of my very favorite home-ownership chores: raking leaves. We have a flat roof, so I've raked the roof and cleaned out the gutters. Made big piles of leaves in the yard while listening to such autumnal classics as Sun Kil Moon and Palace. My hands smell like dry leaves. I have a packed week of homework approaching, so tonight I'm going to settle in and watch the Padres even the series. Fally fall fall.

When learning a new language, it is important that you learn "Speak more slowly" before learning "I love you."

This weekend, A is going to travel back in time. She is going to her HS reunion and I wish her the best of luck. I, on the other hand, am staying in the present. It will be an all-poetry weekend. Here is how it will shake down:

Friday night. 7 pm. Van Brunt Visitors Center. 13th & Q. As part of the Nebraska Books Festival, I am reading my best poems along with Mathias, Anthony Hawley, and Michael Dumanis.

Saturday morning. 10 am. Smith/Curtiss Room 220. Nebraska Wesleyan campus. Mathias and I will represent Octopus & Octopus Books on a panel of small presses/journals from Nebraska along with Prairie Schooner, Backwaters Press, and University of Nebraska Press.

Saturday night. 8 pm. Teresa Franta's House. 1840 B St. To commerate the 6 Poets at Six Gallery which took place on October 7 in 1955, I will read some poems (and maybe a Beat poem I'm fond of) along with 5 other Lincoln poets.

And: tommorow night, I'm part of a group of students that will be performing some Mac Low pieces in Avant Garde class. Very vrry vry excited about to be in the middle of all these words which will be floating around the classroom. I like words.

T inspired me to make my own playoff predictions.

Padres over Cardinals in 5
Mets over Dodgers in 3

Yankees over Tigers in 4
Twins over A's in 4

League Championship:

Mets over Padres in 7
Yankees over Twins in 5

World Series

Yankees over Mets in 6

I want to make clear I am not personally in favor of this scenario. I will be rooting against it throughout the entire playoffs, but this is what will happen. My heart is on the Mets &/or Padres. If I have to watch a World Series in a dome I'll be ill.

I will shave my face approximately 8 times before I stop shaving my face for the winter. October 31 is my last shave. March 17 is when shaving, for me, begins again. I will grow a healthy reddish beard, as pictured above from M's back seat in San Francisco last winter. Apparently, I also grow a strange mustache.

I am knee-deep in Jackson Mac Low and student essays. The things that each of these are doing well are very different from one another.

Also, tonight, A and I are going to our first latin dancing class. That's right. I said it. Latin dancing. The heart is in the hips. Aye yay yay!