Friday, March 29, 2013

Vague Documentation

I was here. This is a college campus in the autumn of 2012. A student uses her phone on the way to class. My friend takes this photo, and I and another friend are next to him.

And, now the weird part. If my timeline has a halfway point, that afternoon was it. It's not that my life is going downhill from here. Hardly. It was just a feeling I had, something I felt going into that day, and something I felt departing it. The feeling of midpoint.

Perhaps I was merely hopped up on caffeine and loratadine, and these are the iffy memories of a re-wired brain fighting seasonal allergies. Well.

It was a nice day. I'm glad I was with my friends. I'm glad I have this photo.


Friday, March 22, 2013

I read an essay and think about an old friend.

In graduate school, I had the pleasure of taking a course on Classical Greek Rhetoric (taught by Dr. John Poulakos) with fellow graduate student, Steve Llano. I was in the English Department, Steve, Communications, and we hung out a few times: pizza, beer, Doctor Who. We also talked about the intersections of our teaching. Steve taught rhetoric and debate. I taught composition (writing). We were cool guys. Steve, also a clever guy (and still cool), influenced my thinking about composition, and for that I will always be grateful. I still read his posts on Google+ from time to time. Once he described what he was doing with his debating students as "languaging." Like I said, clever.

This morning, reading Peter Elbow's 1999 essay from Written Communication, "In Defense of Private Writing," I re-discovered a moment in the essay that I think is quite brilliant--a moment where again, I get to see the cool intersection of composition and debate. Elbow is tackling the tricky idea that writing can be a private act (even though we learn it socially), and he writes in his essay that some of the absolutist-sounding claims about composition should be seen less as positions of victory, and more as lenses through which we might see the world. He writes:

". . . if more people understood that lens statements and empirical evidence had only positive force and not negative force, they would be quicker to notice when they had slid into an unfruitful either/or argument. This understanding might even temper the hunger for winning as we know it. If by winning we mean demolishing the enemy view, this is impossible. If by winning we mean making everyone accept our position and feel the opposing one as old-fashioned, retrograde, naughty, shameful, or stupid, this is indeed possible. We see it all the time. But such winning is really losing because it robs the community of the fuller understanding that we need. I fear we may be (or perhaps recently have been) in such a condition among composition scholars: a condition where members had come to feel that the private lens, the sense in which language has a private dimension, was illegitimate or naughty.

There is only one way to really win—but winning is not a good word for this happy outcome: getting people to see the value of our  lens, getting them habitually to try it out when they want to understand something—even people who do not quite like our lens or are not disposed toward looking through it. Surely, the best way to get reluctant people to look through our lens is to be willing to look through theirs.

Winning. Don't misunderstand my quoting of Elbow here. I don't see Elbow's position here as excuse to suffer fools. This moment of wisdom reminds me that any conclusions I want to make about a topic—if I want them to matter—are only arrived at through much careful observation and consideration (as in being considerate), and to mix a metaphor, listening. Something that debaters are well-trained in. How often do I remind myself of this? How often do I take the time to demonstrate this to my students? Yes, but do I do it rigorously enough?

Anyway, all of this is probably a bit too nostalgic for a post, but this morning's reading was a pleasant reminder of the good times with Steve.


Saturday, March 16, 2013

Man Of Mystery; Fred Siegel

Fred Siegel's show, Man of Mystery, has its last performance tonight at South Street Magic at 8:30. Details below.
 
The work is a brilliant one-man (basically) performance memoir composed of stories from Siegel's life as a denizen of magic shops, a dynamo at Coney Island, and a disciple of the dark spaces people gather to be amazed.

There's a hilarious "dream-sequence" that I have the feeling changes with each performance. I can't wait to see that--and the entire show--again. Why do I love this show?

I love this show because it reminded me of why I like to write poetry. There's something magical about the idea of reaching across space and time to try and affect someone's view--to excite, to amaze, to amuse, to cause someone else to question thoughts, feelings, or perspectives. Siegel knows better (PhD from NYU) to waste time addressing this directly, but that point comes through elegantly in his stories. Through his performance he creates moments that are funny, tender, strange--even uncomfortable--but above all, the audience is treated to moments of mystery. Just when we think we have Siegel figured out, we don't. The only think left to do is listen and observe more carefully.

Artists, performers, and anyone who makes art for others--even those who just followed an obsession--will be captured by this show. That said, the occasional behind-the-scenes look into the world of magic (not magic tricks) should interest everyone.

This is my second time seeing the show. If the dream sequence does change, I will note it in a future post. I hope the show is extended. If not, I'll post again the next time it appears.

Get tickets online here.

South Street Magic is at:
519 South 4th Street, Philadelphia, PA 19147
(267) 519-3733





Butch Geography

Stacey Waite's book of poems, Butch Geography, is good. Really good. I pulled it out of the stack of books I brought home from Boston. Made some coffee, and started to read.

It was so good I forgot to drink my coffee. Engrossing, yes, but it's also tough on the heart. I actually had to put it down about half-way through. Only my cold coffee made me realize how long I had spent reading and re-reading these poems about gender, growing up--and not, fitting in--and not, and being tough--and not. Waite makes these poems look easy--I felt like she could be telling me these poems over a beer--but there's a complexity that kept bringing me back--will bring me back later this week to finish it. As I said, it's good.

I'll post another update when I finish it. Here's the link: Butch Geography by Stacey Waite.


Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Unpacking from AWP 2013 in Boston

After every trip, I always spend several days unpacking the little things I collected: notes and ideas on scraps of paper, menus, maps, even the occasional napkin or two. With a writing conference the piles are larger: books, bookmarks, flyers, pages of notes--in addition to all of the usual strange mementos just mentioned. This year's AWP conference in Boston is like unpacking a pile of presents.

I attended several panels and took pages of notes. I bought books from Tupelo Press by Stacey Waite, CM Burroughs, from Many Mountains Moving: Rebecca Foust, and from Saturnalia Books: Natalie Shapero's No Object. I also picked up issues of great journals: Bat City Review, One Story and 32 Poems.

New discoveries for me? One Story (each issue holds--you guessed it--one story), Prime Number (a journal of poetry and prose from Press 53), and rkvry (I was happy to read a story from Randall Brown in the latest issue). I also discovered how much I miss this sphere--this creative writing sphere--of my life. Links to these places will be on the right.

New projects are in the works. Life goes on.