Monday, July 12, 2010
I find myself with time this morning. It is so strange, to have time. But I have nothing to write about here, as I haven't been reading, only writing and when not writing terribly procrastinating! By doing one of the following: gorging myself on 1)back-episodes of True Blood, so much so that when I eat the dark cherries I have been buying daily at the grocery store I imagine it's blood on my fingers 2) sex 3)chocolate almond ice cream with cherries after sex and 4)making wonderful vegan food, or eating it, yesterday cilantro-lime tofu tacos and 4)daily yoga. I am both clean and sometimes incredibly dirty.
YESTERDAY I finished the bloated first draft of the essay collection. That is something, yes? I still have to read it and try to edit it down before sending it off to my editors. John is reading it for me now. But it is always strange, that curious space when you have time in between a project.
I COULD work on my incest text, Under the Shadow of My Roof, to try to get it in some shape for end of July, to submit somewhere. Although I haven't figured out a designer yet really. If you emailed me, I plan to get in touch with you!
And Polanski is free. I write an extremely obscene (yet really funny, I think) scene in Under the Shadow of My Roof starring Roman Polanski, who picks up Monkey when she's a child prostitute frequenting the Summit Mall in Fairlawn, Ohio, and he takes her back to Jack Nicholson's house in LA, and they restage Sharon Tate's murder. It is, what's the word - ahistorical. No. Another word. Anachronistic. And there's a lot of stuff about Catholicism. It was the scene I originally sent Blake B. to consider for Everyday Genius when he was doing it, but I don't think he wanted to touch it.
All of these paper-corspses I have, these books unpublished unfinished just lying around (laying around? does a corpse lie or lay?)
I need to review Dolly City for Bomb, a work translated from the Hebrew written by Orly Castel-Bloom. It is a monster-mommy book, in a way. Cannot wait to read a work by Castel-Bloom. Although I'm not reading it, just traveling with it. It is now on my desk. The black-and-white galley with the blank face. It will soon maybe reside in the bedroom.
I need to figure out how to teach a comp class. I need to figure out how to teach a story workshop. I am no longer teaching Women & Madness at Akron, I had to give it up in exchange for the story workshop in Pittsburgh, I had asked them to move it for me, since they were going to before and it was a class I developed. Instead the department head gave it to a woman whose crowning achievement has been to write a slim book about Virginia Woolf and gardening. She's using all of my books, which KILLS me. Ravishing of Lol Stein and Bell Jar and Mrs. Dalloway.
This week is a MONSTER week for Everyday Genius. Today is Bhanu Kapil notes from her Ban project, tomorrow Danielle Pafunda's delicious weirdo "The Dead Girls Speak in Unison" series of poems, then an excerpt from Danielle Dutton's SPRAWL, a poem by Hildebrand Pam Dick, and an excerpt from Vanessa Place's The Gates!