do not get on that interstate bus!

Too tired for real writing. I had a lonely week last week, but this one's been almost distractingly interesting. So, a bulleted list:

• Anne Carson read (performed) at the 92nd St Y tonight. I really have to stress the fact that she is a bad-ass (seriously, dictionary definition). She is so, so smart, and has an incredibly sharp sense of humor, and her juxtapositions of old (ancient Greek) and new (contemporary) elements produces some very unique effects. The reading/performance was one part essay, one part poetry, and one part theater, in case you wanted to know. I didn't know what to expect when I went.
  
• I randomly read at Cornelia Street Cafe yesterday, which was very low-key. I think it's helped clear up some of my more neurotic thoughts about the thesis material not "coming together" or whatever. I guess reading poems out loud is more helpful than I thought. Nevertheless, I am the shakiest, least funny, most awkward reader ever... I don't think that's changing. I'm just grateful my voice didn't crack.
  
• The other night I saw Thao Nguyen at the Williamsburg Music Hall or whatever that place is called. I hadn't heard her, ever, and I think that's a part of why the show totally blew me away. She was so energetic, and her band, The Get Down Stay Down, were perfectly in sync with her. And she beatboxes! Thank you S. for bringing me along.
• Being a slob is so much easier than being a productive member of society. Furthermore, eating food outside the house is simpler and nicer than cooking just for yourself (though cooking with someone you love tops everything).
  

waxing emotional & shabby-chic, etc

Lonely! I am lonely. I am listening to the same thing twice and three times and more (today's tune happens to be The Mountain Goats' [or The Extra Glenns'] "Going to Marrakesh", which is one brilliant and cruel jam if you're into that type of thing) . Garrett is in Connecticut, and he will be there until the end of time the week. It's really amazing when you live with someone how lonely it gets without them.

So, I've been doing what any sensible writer would do with a master's thesis due in like one month (PS: holy crap) -- crafts. I should say I have a special thing for covering things in paper, so most of the crafts have involved papering. I covered a table in those coin roll things the other day. I sliced the rolls open down the middle and glued them on with gel medium -- that stuff's great for this kind of decoupage work. Anyway, that's it to the left there. On the table are a wee little Nepalese singing bowl (atop that hideous doily) and a Trader Joe's wine bottle I also covered in paper.

The table is really special. I found it off Bedford Ave when I went to meet my friend Pete the other day. We saw it by some rubbish bins as we were going to find some food, and decided it was best to obscure it so that nobody else took it. Lo, after the tofu sheets were gone, the table was still there, so I took it. It was a terribly windy day and I was almost knocked over several times just dragging the silly thing. Pete got it down the subway stairs, but I took it the rest of the way... I had some lower back pains the next day, but ehh, small price to pay for some Brooklyn hipster's throwaway.

And I, I, I am a monster.

Yesterday, as a nice last outing/Spring Breakery before he headed off to Soul Mountain, Garrett and I went to see the Mountain Goats at Webster Hall in NYC. It was my third MG show, and it had a totally different vibe than the two earlier shows I'd seen (one six months ago and one about a year and a half ago). First of all, John D is now touring with a band -- granted, his band still consists of Peter Hughes, but there is also a drummer. This setup makes the songs very rockin'. Actually the new album, Heretic Pride, is extremely rockin' by itself (listen to "Lovecraft in Brooklyn" or "In the Craters of the Moon" for proof), but I mean that other, older (not old, but older) songs become rockalicious as well. Notable examples include "Palmcorder Yajna" (from We Shall All Be Healed) and "See America Right" (from Tallahassee). If you know the Mountain Goats catalog, you know that both are already pretty heavy songs on their respective albums, but they came across absolutely foot-stompingly butt-shakingly explosive yesterday. I felt like my foot would suffer from a hairline fracture, a la The Boss.

Maybe the sheer amount of rock had something to do with the atmosphere summoned by the opening band, The Moaners, a two-piece from John D's new hub in North Carolina. They came onstage, said very little, and then burst into this wonderful mess of grunge riffs and bluegrass slide over a drumbeat worthy of a blackmetal band. No kidding. The guitarist/singer was terse and decidedly unconcerned with being charming; the drummer said virtually nothing. Still, they rocked.

Now, if TMG had only played "The Monkey Song".

Here I am in my new Mountain Goats t-shirt, courtesy of my darling sweetheart. Take care to observe my two-toned hair and my utter disregard for personal hygiene. That's the big orange sun positioned at my back. Yes, those are my real eyes. No, that isn't a Carol Brady haircut, it's just the way the darn mop fell. So suck it up, and have a good day. I'm gonna go work on my travel grant application cover letter.

Updates, Cupcakes, and Coffees

This was a fun meal. A Cakeshop Red Velvet cupcake and a nice frothy coffee. That's Devendra Banhart's freaky bod on the cover of Paper mag in the background. This was taken at the recent "editors meeting" which somehow got confused for a launch party (mistakenly! Mistakenly! We would never have a launch party without you, Gentle Reader, all two of you...)

Well, the Poetry Festival, for which I'm on the organizing panel, is happening next month, and it looks super good -- the lineup is spectacular, and we have a killer panel for the first time. It's a yet-unnamed panel on the topic of first books, and the participants are Alex Lemon, Tracy K. Smith, Brenda Shaughnessy, and Ilya Kaminsky. We've been batting titles back and forth, but nothing's stuck so far... anyway, the whole thing is remarkably interesting and relevant to a bunch of grad students with big ideas but little real knowledge. I know I'm kind of afraid of the MFA being over this spring, since it's not really a degree that guarantees anything. To combat a "Fear of the Unknown" (in Siouxsie terms), I've been submitting a little bit and working on my translations a lot. I'm not going to give in and go for the PhD if I don't have to, and some insight will help. Unless it consists of "it's not worth it, really," in which case I don't fuckin' want to hear it.

In related news, I'll be in the April issue of SUB-LIT. Yay for rocknroll. But for now, I need another strong cup of coffee. See? It's all full circle. And you thought the pic was irrelevant.

bewilderness

This made me laugh more than a little. I was surfing some music blogs in between episodes of Weeds, I was looking for the hippest tunez -- and then suddenly this. No warning, no nothing.

Please be advised that this is probably not advisable.

Now, onto my assignment for the night -- make a poem where the ending comes first.