Poet Matt Gano embodies Richard Brautigan at Dead Poets Society on Thursday, April 15, 7:30 p.m. at Richard Hugo House.
Tickets are $6-10 and are available at brownpapertickets.com.
|
Here is a stanza from "Enthusiasm": It was a time of cheap bread and parties, Read the entire poem and Bierds' other poems from Gods and Monsters HERE.
|
|
Ah, jeez. I was wrong. I apologize for the temporary lowering in my faith reservoir, George. Let’s always be friends. Yes, “Manifesto” has some stylistic trappings that could limit your ability to empathize with it. It is subtitled “A Press Release from PRKA,” which refers to the narrator’s (presumably Saunders) organization “People Reluctant to Kill for an Abstraction.” It details how all the members (again, a throwback to his idea of “fluid-nations,” that interests and morals can bind people together in a non-geographical population) didn’t commit certain acts of terrorism, or war-mongering or other malicious skullduggery. Ha, yes, how nice most of us aren’t murderers, you might think, and skim ahead. True, the structure of the piece is very skim-worthy (practically what press releases are designed for), but Saunders deliberately punches holes in the smooth surface of the prose with visceral imagery, and those holes can surprise you. Yes, there are commendable-but-bland assertions like “[a]t precisely nine in the morning, working with focus and stealth, our entire membership succeeded in simultaneously beheading no one” (251), but as the piece progresses, his examples become more and more arresting: No previously funny person was reduced to a baggy pile of bloody leaking flesh, by us (251). No bombs, cluster bombs or rockets were launched into crowded civilian neighborhoods, from which, it was observed, no post-bomb sickening momentary silences could be heard (252). Saunders pulls out the individual’s perception of those general experiences (the jarring difference between a funny person and a corpse, the sharpness of your senses in a time of emergency) and even if the reader can’t imagine the tragedy itself, they can sympathize with the fallout. The press release continues with, “[i]t should be noted that, in addition to the above-listed and planned activities completed by our members, a number of unplanned activities were completed, by part-time members, or even nonmembers” (253). Among them, In London, a bitter homophobic grandfather whose grocery bag broke open gave a loaf of very nice bread to a balding gay man who stopped to help him (253). In Syracuse, New York, holding the broken body of his kitten, a man wept (253). I love the idea of people being accidentally nice to each other; it is one of the best “gotchas!” I can imagine. But it’s that second example that really pulled me under, into the content of the narrative. Jesus. And not only is that a heartbreaking image, but a very personal one—Saunders teaches at Syracuse University. Essentially, Saunders is taking the idea of “turning the other cheek” out for a spin with a practical and active (rather than passive or reactive) varnish. Many of us have trouble sleeping, and lie awake at night, worrying about something catastrophic befalling someone we love. We rise in the morning with no plans to convert anyone via beating, humiliation, murder or invasion. To tell the truth, we are tired. We work. We would just like some peace and quiet. When wrong, we think about it awhile, then apologize… This is us. This is who we are. This is PRKA. To those who would oppose us, I would simply say: We are many. We are worldwide. We, in fact, outnumber you. Though you are louder, though you create a momentary ripple on the water of life, we will endure and prevail (254). Sometimes it is easy to get too caught up in the struggle to make the development numbers match up with the financials for the board meeting, which is never going to happen (the numbers matching, that is…the board meeting itself is very, very certain), or frantically emailing with designers and printhouses about invitations. But part of my job is also reading pieces like “Manifesto.” And reading pieces like “Manifesto” reminds me why we all work here at Hugo House—there are important, beautiful things that need to be put on paper for someone else to read, and we value that above almost everything else. And yes, we work, and we are tired, but on top of that, apparently we are pretty decent people—and we are in the majority, with all of you. How nice! As good books do, "The Braindead Megaphone" snuck its tendrils into other parts of my life. I happened to read “United States of Huck” while also grading Huck Finn papers for Ballard High School, where I occasionally pick up work as a theme reader, and I was able to look at the papers with a new point-of-view. I was inspired to put Johnny Tremain on hold at SPL, and picked it up yesterday. “Buddha Boy” sparked an idea for a story that I dumped 1,000 words into last weekend. Overall, I’m happy with my choice for the first Marginalia effort, and have confirmed my affections for Saunders’s writing and subject matter. Which brings me to our new assignment: True Grit, by Charles Portis (suggested by Kate). I’ll do a more in-depth intro for it on next week’s installment, but for those that would like to participate, commence your library-hold-placing and used-bookstore-rummaging! I’m looking forward to the conversation.
|
|
"The little airplanes of the heart I haven’t. There is a small room in my heart that believes someday I will grow up to be a full-time, professional writer and that it will take more discipline than I have now but will fill my days with thoughtful appreciation and wonderment for the world around me. And I believe it will make me very happy. Marya Sea Kaminski premieres new writing at Laws of Attraction this evening, 7:30 p.m. at the University of Washington's Kane Hall. Tickets are $15-25 and are available at the door beginning at 6:30 p.m. |
|
Mephitic [muh-fit-ik] –adjective 1. Offensive to the smell. 2. Noxious; pestilential; poisonous. I woke up on my boat this morning and found myself floating in a mephitic scum of old diesel fuel. All definitions are courtesy of Dictionary.com. Example sentence courtesy of Sue. Word of the Day appears on weekdays and features words taken from books that Hugo House staff and volunteers are currently reading. This week’s series is brought to you by Sue Joerger, Hugo House executive director, and features words taken from "John Henry Days" by Colson Whitehead. |
|
EH: Stuart Dybek, Junot Diaz, James Lee Burke, Richard Price, Kim Addonizio, Donald Ray Pollock, Denis Johnson, Eduardo Galeano. EH: Drink copiously in a mismatched but elegantly appointed bunker where they speak eloquently in fragments and monologues, dressed as their spirit animals and always achieve an epiphany or at least a good laugh. EH: Spam sandwiches on fresh baguettes, filet mignon with McDonald's fries and, sometimes, special brownies. EH: Okay, to be honest, the class is mostly for prose writers (equally), but I think that narrative poets and/or poets who are interested in branching out into prose would gain a lot from plugging into this discussion. EH: A memoirist who pays attention to a satisfying plot and compelling dialogue. A novelist who mines his own memory/experiences for the nuances of her characters. A short story writer that can bring the reader to the same satisfaction (or rage!) as a novelist. EH: The generation of a new piece of work, lots of laughs and exercises that are actually launching pads. EH: I did a one-week version of this class last summer and it was supremely useful to me and all the students, but we all agreed it was nowhere near long enough—and adding the component of workshopping the last two days will really crown the experience.
|
|
Today is my meeting with writer-in-residence Karen Finneyfrock. The poems I sent her to review are years old. I haven’t finished a new poem in a long time. I worry about the ones I sent her—“Miss Ryan had red-hair when I was in second grade” and “Through machetes and sugar cane.” Maybe I should have sealed them away, with the rest of my poems, in the plastic box on my boat. I literally have butterflies in my stomach and my heart is racing. Why should I do anything with these poems? To distract myself I pick up my new copy of the Richard Hugo House Business Practices Insurance Policy. It is an inch thick. No kidding. I pull out a random page. Volcanic Action. Perfect! I’m feeling better already. But most importantly, Volcanic Action insurance does not cover losses caused by fire, explosion, tidal waves or earth movements including “earth sinking, earth rising or shifting.” Karen has just arrived. I stand up to walk across the corner of the kitchen. I’m sure Brian can hear my heart pounding in the office next door.
|
|
Deracinate [dih-ras-uh-neyt] –verb (used with object) 1. To pull up by the roots; uproot; extirpate; eradicate. 2. To isolate or alienate (a person) from a native or customary culture or environment. After work, I am going to pull my dinghy up on the dock and deracinate the barnacles and seaweed growing on her hull. All definitions are courtesy of Dictionary.com. Example sentence courtesy of Sue. Word of the Day appears on weekdays and features words taken from books that Hugo House staff and volunteers are currently reading. This week’s series is brought to you by Sue Joerger, Hugo House executive director, and features words taken from "John Henry Days" by Colson Whitehead. |
|
What I didn’t realize is that in order for me to act as a drunken poet I actually had to be drunk—which has never been a problem for me. (I do run the drunkest reading series in Seattle after all.) However, the problem was staying in character while reading poetry and pounding enough beer to be Bukowski, something I hadn’t rehearsed beforehand. For anyone at last year’s Dead Poets Society, you may remember I couldn’t hold in my thick Queens accent once the third can of beer was cracked. Thankfully, this year, I’m just organizing Dead Poets Society, which will be on Thursday, April 15, 7:30 p.m. Our dead poets are Richard Brautigan (played by Matt Gano), Audre Lorde (played by Jourdan Keith), Frank O’Hara (played by Peter Pereira) and Anne Sexton (played by Nicole Hardy); each will be portrayed by a living poet (the names in the parentheses are the living poets, for the record) who will read the dead poet’s work and one poem inspired by their dead poet. The event is hosted by poet and Hugo staffer Kate Lebo, who played Sylvia Plath at the last Dead Poets Society. Last year’s event sold-out and was a lot of fun (You can find the photos taken by our dear friend and handy cameraman Abiel Hoff on our Facebook page.) You can buy tickets to the upcoming Dead Poets Society at brownpapertickets.com.
|