Au contraire

Nope, we haven't forgotten about the blog - but we have been busy with filling out health insurance forms, applying for jobs in Nashville (three weeks from tomorrow!), and the usual tasks that keep our little ship afloat. In the meantime, check out this bee I found in a Rose of Sharon at the Arboretum where Bryan works:

C'est belle, n'est-ce pas?

Read-y.

I keep a book list. This will come as no surprise to those who know me well, given my obsession over reading and my devotion to record-keeping. I try to finish one book per week - I know, my numbers aren't that high, but it takes longer than 7 days to absorb something like Adorno's Aesthetic Theory or Elizabeth Johnson's She Who Is or even Roberto Bolaño's 2666.

I just finished reading a book I've been wanting to read for years:

Elizabeth Willis has put together a fine collection of critical essays on Lorine Niedecker and her "Poetics of Place," one well worth reading even for those new to Niedecker.

Niedecker has long been one of my go-to poets, her words among those worth always having around. Straightforward, double-edged, simple, trapdoored, vernacular, philosophical, delightful - and satisfying and even fun for the reader.

Niedecker lived marginalized, engaging both the poetic elite and the common folk.

 I worked the print shop
right down among em
the folk from whom all poetry flows
and dreadfully much else.
...
What would they say if they knew
I sit for two months on six lines
of poetry?

She often toiled in poverty, but the richness of her language does not leave an afterimage of austerity.

I was the solitary plover
A pencil for a wing-bone

I am intrigued by concept of this woman who saw the writer's life and went for it, although that meant working hard toward a vision that was not always understood or supported by those who filled her everyday.

(A few years ago I read an autobiography by Paul Auster, and he began by saying something along the lines of "Everybody has to earn a living, so I'm going to explain how I did that and still managed to write." Even though I enjoy my day job, I struggle with the feeling that I don't have enough hours in the day for the things I really want to be doing. Hence the return to graduate school: more than anything, I'm buying time to read, and write, and study.)

Poet's Work

Grandfather
  advised me:
        Learn a trade

 I learned
  to sit at desk
        and condense

 No layoff
  from this
        condensery

Niedecker's work also has this charming quality that comes from her keen attentiveness to the world as it is around her, that comes from her serious playfulness. She is punny and direct, writing layers upon layers in words that read like a child's nursery rhyme. She cares about this world, is connected to it, and it deeply matters to her.

My life is hung up
in the flood
   a wave-blurred
              portrait

Don't fall in love
with this face--
   it no longer exists
               in water
                       we cannot fish

Oh SEPTA.....

As you know I've been biking to work for the past three weeks, but with the onslaught of inclement weather I figured I would take advantage of my 10-pack of SEPTA passes Sharon got for me. I actually don't mind biking in the rain, but my 5 miles of bliss riding through a park becomes a 5 mile mud/grit fest with a fine film to heavy layering of mud across my entire lower body. Some days when it's wet I need to stop by a stream and wash up. Gross. So I took the opportunity to use SEPTA (Go Green). Well I have to say, two days of SEPTA and 2 bad days with SEPTA.

First day:
Me:Excuse me can you tell me where the handicap section is on the train? (bikes share space with their wheelchair cousins, sounds smart)
Conductor: Let me ask you a question. Do I look handicapped to you?
Me: Ummmm (trick question?)No
Conductor: I don't see no handicap section here, must be at the other end
Me: Umm, I was just asking b/c of the bike
Conductor: I know why you was askin'.
Me: (walk away)

So, if I was handicapped would she have helped? Oh never mind, if you are in a wheelchair it's practically impossible to get to a train....silly me, the last handicap ramp to access a train platform I saw was padlocked and inaccesible.

Second Day, coming home:
Conductor: Where are you getting off?
Me: Suburban Station
Conductor: You can't, have to get off at 30th street station.
Me: ?(puzzled look) (There are 3 to 4 center city stops depending on who you ask, a ticket to "center city" costs the same no matter where you get off in the city.)
Conductor: It becomes a peak train when we enter the city so at that point no bikes are allowed.
Me: It's just one more stop
Conductor: You already have wheels, it's not that far.
Me: sizzle sizzle, evil thought, evil thought....then call customer service
Customer Service: How can I help you?
Me: Do I really have to get off a train at 30th street and not continue on just like every other paying customer?
CS: Ummm, I don't know, I'll ask.
Me: hold
CS: Sir, the conductor has the right to ask a bike to leave whenever they like.
Me: Really? that is insane, so I can't ever depend on being able to get on the train and getting anywhere?
CS: That's correct.
Me: Aren't you going green, this seems a little opposing to going green, kicking bikes off, you should be encouraging bicycles.
CS: I'm sorry sir, I just can't help you.
Me: sizzle sizzle, evil thought, evil thought

So, after all of that, I now hate SEPTA again, their employees are not friendly, helpful or polite, nobody actually understands their policies especially the customer.

Anyhow, that's my rant, I prefer the mud.

A happy convergence.

Yesterday was Bryan's birthday and the now twice-monthly StorySlam, this one hosted at World Cafe Live. We have long loved StorySlams and were especially excited to attend this one after an overly-delicious Indian dinner that stuffed each of us to the brim.

The theme was "Criminal Intent," so we obviously had no stories to tell. Our friend Sandy Beaches (um, of course that's her real name) told the tale of the time she was arrested for having overdue library materials. It can happen, folks, so no funny business with your checked-out items!

Here's the thing. StorySlams are more fun at L'Etage, which is a terribly small venue where we usually ended up sitting behind the storyteller at the back of the stage. It's boudoir and gilded and cozy. World Cafe Live has the decor of a Starbucks, Applebees, or an American mall. There's table service and plenty of seating.

Now should I be happy that StorySlams have grown into a larger venue? Or am I allowed to miss the days when it felt unknown and intimate?

Oh, success. Sometimes you totally backfire.

Ayiti, nou pa p bliye w.

Today marks six months since a 7.1-magnitude earthquake devastated Port-au-Prince.

Today things in Haiti are still, to put it mildly, a royal mess.

Today our hearts are heavy.

Daily commute: Intro

I've been commuting by bike the last few weeks and for the foreseeable future to the Morris Arboretum in Chestnut Hill, which is still Philly but it's a healthy 10 miles away. I have the best of both worlds:

1. A crazy 5 miles through a semi-rough north Philly neighborhood where I have seen two fires, one police raid, lots of trash, the already-blogged man with an amazing homemade chopper bike, a huge megachurch, a human hair super city, and the list goes on and on.

2. 5 miles through one of the largest urban parks in the country where I dodge chipmunks, wave to the same joggers EVERYDAY, pass covered bridges, listen to woodpeckers, pass waterfalls, watch kids jump off a rock into the creek, a really cool old inn/restaurant, and once my new Karate Monkey gets here I will head into the trails for my commute home, making it the most amazing commute ever!

More photos to come, but here's just one example of the amazingness:

Hot crabs every half hour! Who could resist? And the words on the side enticing you to "grab crab" - whoever thought that up needs a nice pat on the back. Yeah for hot crabs!

Curiouser and curiouser.

While Bryan was working at the Arboretum yesterday, this guy yelled from his car, "Do you know Nikola Tesla?"

Bryan said yes (of course) and the fellow came dashing over to hand this brochure through the fence.

I for one think the weekend just got that much more interesting. 

Too hot to hoot.

With a forecast of triple-digit temperatures for the rest of the week, we are not sweating a blog post today (oh, but it was too easy!). Instead, we bring you two amazing moments in bike-spotting about town:

Enjoy.

Happy birthday, America.

Along with a day in central PA, brunch with Bryan's family, a cookout, and an afternoon party with friends, we did manage to catch the fireworks at the Art Museum:

Folks started turning out around 6pm, but (predictably) we rolled in around 9 and staked out a space in the grass.

We snacked and listened to The Roots (hooray) while watching everyone light it up:

The Goo Goo Dolls (B-list year, I guess) played on and on, and finally someone just started shooting off their own fireworks:

Meanwhile, the police department found it necessary to circle...and circle...the crowd via helicopter:

 (Okay folks, calm down. The Fourth of July happens every year).

The actual fireworks ended up being late, low, and windblown. We went with everyone else to the middle of the road to catch the show:

I was fortunate enough to have today off and filled it with refinishing a thrift-score dresser, gardening, cooking, sewing, erranding -- and dealing with a flat tire.

(Stay tuned, internet, because we've got a nice round of blogposts coming up this week...)