A full day:

• Torah study in the morning at Touro synagogue.

• Deposit some checks for the Sisterhood

• After that, a run to the Crescent City market on Girod to pick up fresh produce. Five bunches of greens—I was nervously watching the guy ahead of me who was also buying mustard greens. I didn’t want to end up with a choice of collards and cabbage. But mustard greens in two colors on safely on the Thanksgiving menu. Louisiana satsumas, fresh herbs, green onions, broccoli, and pecans—because they looked good.

• A hurried lunch and a trip to “This is It”, the Michael Jackson movie. Everyone else that I know has seen it and I finally conceded that I should also. There was a 30-45 minute slot when I zoned out and could not tell you what went on, but in general, I enjoyed it. At the beginning of the movie, I ended up watching the “chorus line” more than MJ. He is holding back—he mentions that he is saving his voice. But these young dancers are putting their all out there. They have to be half his age and want to impress. There is much love going back and forth. In one long dance sequence, MJ is dancing on stage and the other dancers are on the floor cheering him on. One review that I read said that they were cheering the groin thrusts; I think that they were cheering the dance idol that they had since childhood. MJ himself is ebullient at the end. After all, this is a 50-year-old guy cheered on by folks half his age. They are saying that he still has it. So that part I liked. I liked seeing the actual “work”: Michael asking for more from his musicians. His choreographer at his side, pointing out where he was going to go next. I wanted more of that. I wanted to see mistakes. Instead, we see perfect dance routines and perfect music.

• Next is a theatre production in the Marigney. I am looking forward to that also. After that, I have to return to earth. I have to write down the actual menu and start getting the items that are missing. Decide what can be cooked in advance. Clean (yuck!)

I write this with WWOZ in the background. There was a Latin festival today and they are continuing to play Latina music. New Orleans is returning to normal in some sense. There is getting to be too much to do!

These are on “stickies” on my desk.  Before I lose them under legitimate work, I had better post them.  They are responses to the following prompt:

readwritepoem.org/blog/2009/11/13/read-write-prompt-101-p-p-p-poetry/ 

(1)

Paiku

Fancy as pheasant
gumbo, pagan as pounding
drums is New Orleans.

(2)

Weep

You partition my
heart, when in your pain, you part
kin from their portion

(3)
Vision

Phantoms flee before the
penetrating might of minds
sharpened by physics

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It is a strange thing--for me--to write poetry that is not prompted by anger or depression or joy.  Just by words.  Just by request. 

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makeda42

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Fleece this morning to be followed by cotton t-shirts this afternoon. The season is changing.

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I have an unfortune tendency to overeat. I've been linked to livejournal blog of The Green Goddess for awhile. I finally made it there today. Who knew when I would make it back? So I had soup, followed by grits and grillards. Followed by Black rice pudding. And it was chilly sitting outside, so I ended with coffee with condensed milk . My knee hurt too much to walk in tonight's. Halloween parade, but now my limp has a waddle . Heading home by way of ferry.

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Vitter sounds like he wants regional health co-ops.  Tell me, if I am in the New Orleans health co-op and I evacuate to Arkansas during a hurricane, where do I obtain health care?  How long must I remain in Arkansas before I can join that co-op and obtain health care?  Unless the entire country is in my health co-op, how is this supposed to work?  Or is the idea that it not work?

Now the thing might not work because it is too expensive.  But few want to talk about the real expense.  I do so miss real discussion in this country.  I can handle people who say that we can’t afford this.  I have this fear also.  I can’t handle people who are afraid of death panels.   Are these the same folks who approved the war in Iraq because they attacked us?  Excuse me—did you just exchange one lie for another?  How did you do that?  You do remember the people describing death panels are the ones who lied to you about WMD?   

Well, a little writing and a little parading over the Labor Day weekend and it’s not over yet.  I finally figured out how to get a movie into iMovie!  We learn a little every day.  It helps to actually follow the instructions.  (Insert laughter here)

Unfortunately, I have to do some shopping today before the Labor Day sales end.  I hate spending money.  But it must be done.  That sofa is finally getting on my nerves.  Next I have to decide on how to get rid of the old one.  Sell it?  Leave it on the curb?  And it is amazing how fast things on the curb disappear.  One imagines a network of neighbors watching for things to appear. 

I actually have the traditional red beans cooking in a crock-pot in the kitchen.  Today is just too crowded with housework to worry about stopping to cook.

Kalamu sent me a sneak peak at the book written and designed by Students at the Center.  Just the cover made me fall over.  I hope that it is printed on glossy paper; that might do justice to the photos that accompany the students’ written work.  Virtual dances to see New Orleans kids shine!

The SF workshop was pushed back a week because of Labor Day.  I wonder if I can finish a story in a week.  (This is one reason that I never dared Clarion.  I can take criticism.  But I can’t write fast.)  I have started a story, so there is hope. 

I ran into one of those post-storm mysteries that puzzle me occasionally. Across Carondelet street from the Shell building was a coffee shop that we used to frequent. After the storm, it did not reopen. The restaurant next door bought some of the space and expanded, but for the most part, the coffee shop sits empty. 

Four years later, there is still coffee in huge glass urns on the shelves. There are coffee cups on the counter where the last shift did not clean up. There are still tables and chairs and open newspapers on the tables. Dust lies over everything. Our own local version of Roanoke. I don’t know if the owner died or despaired. 

One wonders if it is worth the trouble to document Armadillcon 31 at this late date.  I tried to keep nightly notes in my journal.  My program book is full of scribbled notes.  What did I learn from the experience?  

In many cases, the experience was a restatement of what I’ve heard before:

I took a page and a half of notes during my workshop critique.  Later, during the convention, I spoke to one of the workshop coordinators about one aspect of the critique that surprised me.  The professionals wanted areas of the story to be longer.  (My story was around 3500 words.  Really short for me.)  I had received exactly the opposite reaction from the pros in my New Orleans workshop.  What advice to take?  The coordinator, Stina, advised me to take what advice felt right to me.  No one else knew the story as I did.  One of the editors nearby echoed her advice.  That, and keep writing stories.  How many stories had I written? he asked.  Keep writing stories.

Earlier, the panel had advised that if you can stop writing, by all means, do so.  Writing is best done by those who cannot stop themselves from writing.  Steely laughs echoed down the table.

So advice #1: at the end of the day, trust my own judgement.

Advice  #2: keep writing

Yes, I knew that.  Kalamu was insistent that we continue to write poems even we had no market in mind.  When the opportunity came up, we would have a poem on the shelf waiting.  And writing is a muscle that requires exercise.  

I know that.  However, I need encouragement and reinforcement at times.  This con was good for that.  It’s why I need a “fix” of attending a literary con occasionally. 

By the way, one of the dealers mentioned how he missed the NOSFF.  I agreed; a lot of the writers at Armadillocon are writers who used to come here for NOSFF in June.

And it was interesting to hear some details of the business.  I never realized  that stories gathered and edited for a collection (i.e. the Year’s Best Fantasy) might be edited again by the publisher’s editor.  It’s obvious that CD music is arranged so that one song flows to the next in a seamless order, but I didn’t realize that stories in a collection are done the same way.  I didn’t know that there are different levels of YA books. I didn’t realize that YA included college-aged kids. 

It was fascinating hearing Joan Vinge mention that she had converted to Reform Judaism—partially because that branch of Judaism treated women as equals.  (I wanted to run up and hug her.  We’re sisters!)  After listening to her panel discussion, I finally realized that she is married to Jim Frenkel, the editor who asked how many stories I’ve written.  It was a small convention in that sense. 

So, I had a good time.  Stina practically adopted me during workshop and stopped to talk to me in the halls often.  I hope that I was decent to folks in the workshop.  I know that I grew animated at times when giving my opinion on stories.  That’s a hold over from NOMMO, Kalamu’s workshop.   I spent more money that I intended to spend, considering that I didn’t go to Worldcon this year for exactly that reason.  This was supposed to be a cheap vacation after going to Israel in the spring.  It was not as cheap as I had originally intended.  If I am going to rent a car, which I don’t usually do, I guess that I do need to go ahead and buy a GPS unit.  I rented one and the total for the week for one third of the cost of a new one.  And actually, once I got to the convention, the car stayed parked for the entire 3 days.

These are the last two snippets of videos from the con:

…suffering with the effects of a cold over the past couple of days. I begin to escape from the haze of cold medicine that always makes me a little crazy. Why can’t I see some emergent behavior from my white blood cells? If they are winning, shouldn’t I be high now? That would be a grand way to telling whether you are seriously ill. If the white blood cells are winning, you would be on cloud 9. If they are losing, you would feel as ill as I felt yesterday.   Why don’t you biochemists out there get on this?

Lately, my mouth has fallen open in shock quite often.  This is another one of those times.

http://www.locusmag.com/News/2009/07/charles-n-brown-1937-2009.html

Open the handy Time-Life book
   
            which is falling apart now.