19

Today is Walt Whitman's birthday, born in 1819. Happy birthday, Walt!

And it's also the 19th anniversary of my accident. Which is weird in at least a few ways. Weird in that 19 years seems almost an incalculable amount of time. Weird in that this date doesn't actually mean anything to me. I once forgot about it, missing it by several weeks. I had to laugh.

And it really is a day that's no different than any other. I don't believe I could muster up any kind of somber feelings. I remember it because of Walt and because a good friend's birthday is on the 30th.

Otherwise, it doesn't mean much. That said, I remember the day so very vividly. I had just graduated from the sixth grade the day before. It was a Saturday and I was invited to the house of my gifted teacher for a cookout. I got up early, dressed in these awful yellow shorts and shirt, and left.

A few hours later I'd break my neck in two places on a borrowed 10 speed bike. Lying there in that ditch, I'd know my left arm was broken by the crooked way it lay across my chest. My right arm, broken also, was underneath me, out of sight. I couldn't feel anything.

The whole story is, of course, epic and horrible. And not horrible.

Writing this brings me back to the memoir I pick at from time to time. If only I were more interested in myself!

One

Monday and here I am with a broken down chair. Luckily, it's the fifteen year old chair; the good one, back at my place, still runs like a champ. I'm here at my parents' for barbeque of some sort. With the chair refusing to move more than an inch without shutting down, I'm stuck in the push chair, waiting for someone to push me around. Which is not so great. But I'll manage. I've been without a chair for as long as six weeks before. When people tell me I have great patience, it's those times that created it.

Otherwise, it's Memorial Day. I always half-think Jerry Lewis should be on tv doing his atrocious telethon. But then I realize that's for Labor Day.

And then I feel sane again.

So, hi. Tomorrow: a very special episode of my blog.

Well, not really. ;)

Ack

Computer problems this wek have kept me from doing much of anything productive. And that's ok. The annoyance aside, it's been an ok week. And utterly nondescript. I apologize for terminal boringness. You may feel free to shun me with impunity.

But next week will be better, I promise. The 19th anniversary of my accident. Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson in concert, together, rain or shine.

And who knows what else will happen....

Hand

My mind is fuzz this morning. Moving slow. If only I drank coffee.

Two rejections in the mail yesterday. Boo, hiss. Nice notes, though, so all is well. I probably won't send out much until the fall. Unless the itch comes. Often it does. Then I'm collating like a mad man.

***

Out of the blue, I got a postcard from Ron Slate, author of The Incentive of the Maggot, saying he'd enjoyed my book. It's funny because I've been going around talking about how much I loved his title since the book came out.

Very nice gesture.

Across 110th Street

Saturday I left town with my mom and her sister, my aunt Starr. We left to go visit my brother Chan. Those of you who have read my book may recall a few mentions of him. He has been in prison for the past five years, since he was 22. Various drug-related charges landed him there. Now, nearing the end of his sentence, things for him are getting hard. It's possible he might get out anytime between now and August and if not then, by next March at the latest.

For the five years he's served, he's kept his head down, worked in the library, and grown up. But now, yes, the waiting is the hardest part.

With his release so close, it's an exquisite torture. He looks forward to it, yet is scared. He's a worrier and has a lot of time on his hands.

The visit was good, though. As good as such a thing can be.

Star Wars

Amazingly, George Lucas gets Revenge of the Sith almost entirely right. Even the actors appeared to be trying this time out. Yes, the dialogue is still woeful for the most part but all involved seem to be invested in making the best of it. And this makes a difference.

The movie is surprisingly good. It has the vibe of Star Wars, whatever that means. And yet it also feels different than the five other films. The word 'pregnant' is used (Anakin's reaction is priceless); people are seen sleeping together; people weep. And Jar Jar is seen but once, in a crowd, for maybe a second.

I did not expect the final duel between Obi-wan and Anakin to be shocking, but it was. Wow, I thought, that is just brutal.

There is one astoundingly bad moment in the film: you can't believe anyone ever thought it played well. But it is mercifully brief and is gone.

Really good movie. Considering my deep ambivalence to these first two prequels, I'm surprised by how caught up I was in this one. So many good things in it, deft little nods to the old films. Fun stuff.

Early morning

Up early today (but not for Star Wars). It's very quiet here, this summer. Just birds and bells. Yesterday I hung from my porch one of those types of flowers that attracts hummingbirds; I've a hummingbird feeder hanging too, filled with its boiled nectar. I've always loved hummingbirds, little kinetic, emerald knuckles hovering, drinking. I hope I can get some to start coming here: I can see the feeder through the window when watching tv in the living room.

***

Dreams about poems last night.

***

I want to live in a world where zeppelin travel caught on.

Hump

My 9 year old cousin Ryan is spending the night with me tonight. We've baked cookies already and now we're watching The Pink Panther Strikes Again, one of my all-time favorite movies. The Pink Panther movies were my very favorites when I was growing up; my mother talks about how I laughed to no end. I still love them. Just insane slapstick.

Tomorrow: The Revenge of the Sith!

Peace

It feels like I've been absent, in many ways, for the last week or so. But I'm back, I think. I've got my hand up in the air, waving my hand in the air, yelling present!. But not really yelling. It's early yet.

***

Got my first royalty payment on Friday. A large box arrived via UPS. I was puzzled when I opened it to find 50 new copies of my book. The invoice indicated no charge, that this was a royalties payment. I haven't looked at my contract in three years, but I do believe this might have been stated how royalties would be paid. Which is fine by me. I'll sell them eventually. If anyone wants one, let me know.

And I think this also means I've sold through the first printing. Which is cool.

***

Attended my little cousin Molly's kindergarten graduation Saturday morning, which was uber cute. I can't decide if the inner directors inside each teacher come out full force for these types of things: songs, etc. Crazy. But adorable.

I met a guy I went to high school with, who has a son in Molly's class. He's an occupational therapist now and apparently uses me as some sort of example often when working with his patients.

I think he meant here's what not to do.

***

Here's anothing thing not to do: rent Blade Trinity. Mark brought it over the other day and boy, was that a rather whimpersome end to an otherwise fun comicbook flick series. Just dumb. Dumb. Dumb. Granted, I wasn't as depressed by it as I was by Hannibal. I love Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal was just unspeakably awful. I still wince. Of course, it didn't help that the theater we saw it in should have been condemned: whole rows were roped off because of torrential leaks in the ceiling when it rained.

And it was raining. The girl I was dating at the time was not amused. She was seated right beside a splash-zone. Ah, movie memories.

***

No poetry news.

***

And Star Wars this week. Of course, I am a child of the Star Wars generation, at just the right age when those movies seared themselves into my brain. These prequels have been, well, largely forgettable, with little veins here and there of that old, galvanic movie magic. But I hope this one is better.

***

What's new in your world?

Tonight

In the warm dusk tonight: me outside the bar that once, in my feckless youth, was called David's. And George is there too, hitting on a pretty blonde girl named Ramsey. But I didn't know that then.

Not until he calls after me.

"Whatchoo up to!"

This is, marginally, meant to be a question. But in his excitement it is all imperative.

"Makin trouble? Huh? Yeah, I know how you are! Uh huh!"

I should say I'm not entirely unaccustomed to being addressed this way. Maybe not with so much zeal. But the rest. I went to high school with a guy who could only address me as Troublemaker. I broke him of this, finally, by calling him Troublemaker after roughly each syllable that was spoken.

But back to George.

I turned around. "What?"

"Oh, man, shit, we gotta watch out for you. You got them shifty eyes. Fuck!"

"Yeah, that's me."

"I knew it, man! Uh huh! Ramsey here better watch out! She lives with three girls. Are they ugly?"

Ramsey just looks at George. She says no.

"Oh man, shit, you know it. Don't hang with no ugly people? Yeah!"

We exchange names. George thunders on.

"You new around here? How new?"

I tell him I teach English at the university.

"Oh, man, a professor! What do you teach?"

I tell him English, again. Ramsey and I share a knowing look. I left, crossed the street, and turned around after a block. George stood there, alone, smoking a cigarette.

He waved.

Who wants some?

The Adderall Me

Make Believe

Downloading Weezer's new album, Make Believe, from iTunes, and oh god, is the second track, "Perfect Situation" some kind of, well, perfect.

It sounds like being in love.

I am honored

The Paul Guest

Hi to any and all

readers surfing over from Slate, where my poem is posted this week. Don't be a stranger, say hello, etc., and come back.

***

If you're interested, here are the other two poems Slate has published:

Landscape with Decolletage

The Invisible Man Looks into a Mirror

Check out my poem at Slate

Water

What's left of my great-grandmother's childhood home, just before Walnut Street Bridge. She was born in 1898. 

Ragged, haircut-needing me and Wendy at lunch last week 

Sunday morning coming down

Wouldn't you know it? Wendy and Danny leave and the sun shines out from the clouds. It was overcast, though very pleasant, the whole time they were here. Well, a beautiful day today.

Good times with Wendy and Danny. Cute couple. They arrived here Thursday afternoon, unpacked, and we all went out for Thai food at Thai Smile. Excellent food there. Everyone retired early that night.

Friday the two intrepid travellers slept in, Danny until the 11th bell (I live near an old church tower which rings on the hour). Breakfast, showers, general milling about, and then we walked downtown by the aquarium, the riverfront, took pictures of children playing in fountains, and had a fairly involved conversation with a nice old man about the history of Coca-Cola. Chattanooga was the site of the first bottling plants for Coca-Cola and this man, assuming all of us were tourists, began to hold forth. He was taken aback when I knew all the history. We were standing on a patch of sidewalk where the bottoms of old coke bottles were arranged into the cement. That's what set him off. Cute.

Danny had some work to do so he walked back to my place and Wendy and I walked over the bridge to Coolidge Park where we sat by the river, watched boats laze by, UTC's rowing team, ducks, and Ducks, an old Army amphibious vehicle the city has re-fitted for people to take tours of the downtown and then into the river where it chugs along like any boat.

Afterwards, we stopped in the nice used book store on Frazier Avenue where I had dropped off my book a few weeks ago to see if they'd carry it in their local author's section. The girl behind the counter had read it and fairly gushed about it, which kind of made my day. So they'll be ordering books.

Friday night we got pizza from the Mellow Mushroom and watched Vertigo. Such a great movie. One of my all time favorites.

And then Saturday morning Wendy and Danny had to leave to catch their flight in Atlanta back to Brooklyn. Sad to see them go but we had a lovely time. I think I need to plan a New York trip now.