I have an embarrassment of riches of blogger poet chapbooks – Ivy Alvarez’s charming ten-poem collection What’s Wrong, kind of a suite of broken love poems, and Alison Pelegrin’s gritty, bittersweet, street-wise Squeezers. I highly recommend both – I can honestly say I got more out of these collections than the last ten literary magazines I have read. This on top of Miss Frischkorn’s chapbook of last week, which I would read again and again just for the mermaid poems (which I understand are also in the new issue of Margie?)
I’ve been missing my little brother lately. He lives 3000 miles away and hates talking on the phone, so. He was always a weird kid, in his teenage years he would listen to a mix tape of Toole and Beethoven, neither of which I would have chosen to listen to (sorry Rebecca!) but I gained an appreciation and affection for both because of him. For his vast collection of old X-Men comics, his superior knowledge of the coolest video games, his uncanny knack for remembering details about the old obscure early eighties cartoons and shows we used to watch together (Fraggle Rock? Danger Mouse? Warriors of the Wind?) For Christmas a couple of years ago I received a toy from him that was my favorite toy when I was about eight and he was five. Someone stole this little object from me (called a Nyamy kitten, produced for about nine months in 1980) when I was on a girl scout camping trip, and I cried and cried for literally weeks about losing this toy, the only thing I had asked for at Christmastime that year – of course by the time it was stolen the toy was no longer on shelves, something to do with the flammable metal filings the toy was stuffed with. Well, now my Nyamy kitten is back, flammable innards and all, thanks to my little brother. What kind of person remembers a thing like that twenty years later?
Now that I’m healthier I’m getting a chance to socialize more – I’m going to like thirty poetry-related things in the next three days, it seems like. It’s nice to get to interact with poet-people again, makes me feel like less of an alien. I’ve sent off a bunch of queries to different magazines since I have the energy to write again, about travel and food and technology, respectively. It’s amazing how much more productive I am! Hrmph – I think I had forgotten “normal, un-sick me” has a rabid do-something energy. I actually dusted my house. E-mailed old friends to see what’s up. Rearranged photos, cleaned up paperwork, paid bills. Now if I could only channel that into writing some poems…

Oh, and I now have a cool new form so you can sign up for news about my book (and, maybe later, readings associated with said book…) – check it out if you’re interested – https://webbish6.com/poetry/contactform.htm

The discussion here at K. Silem Mohammad’s blog, http://limetree.ksilem.com/ (Dead Kitten Poetics) reminds me of a quote from an old beloved show of mine that used to be on MTV, Daria, from the episode “Quinn the Brain:”
“Her writing is BAD. Don’t people know the difference between GOOD and BAD?”

Did you ever feel you knew in your gut a piece of writing was good or bad, but couldn’t explain why? Is this due to a shortcoming in our poetics, the individual’s taste, or socialized constructs of taste? Something beyond definable style or subject matter, some ineffable “it.” Like when you find someone irresistably attractive, but you can’t say why, or why you love asparagus.

(For a fascinating discussion of the false dichotomies of avant-garde versus school o’ quietude, see here, http://samizdatblog.blogspot.com/2005/10/field-charts-venn-diagrams-and-dead.html.)
So many interesting blog posts, so little time. Did I mention I spent today getting three fillings, so these interesting posts are distracting me from the fact that I look like one of those old-fashioned cartoon people with puffy jaws and ice bags tied to their faces.

(Under the heading of, Poets Who Actually Deserve Big Prizes or, do I know how to pick ’em or what?)
Big congrats to two winners of the $40,000 Whiting Award, Ilya Kaminsky and Dana Levin. Sometime in the last year I loved each of their books to death (Ilya’s Dancing in Odessa and Dana Levin’s Wedding Day) and wrote glowing reviews of them – my review of Ilya’s book review is in The Pedestal and my review of Dana’s book is in the new issue of 88.) Sometimes it is work to try to find something positive to say about books of poetry, but both these reviews were based on real, punch-in-the-gut admiration.
Seriously, if I was going to pick two upcoming poets who deserved a prize like this, based on two books released in the last twelve months or so, it would be these two poets. So hooray.
I am finishing Zadie Smith’s On Beauty (a fabo sendup of politics in academia, race, and American culture – and a real pleasure to read, funny and acid sharp – very anti-poetry, I think, and among the main characters is a thinly veiled parody composite Jorie Graham/Louise Gluck character) and Margaret Atwood’s Lady Oracle. Sometimes I need a little fiction to help me write better poems. I loved the fierce feminism in the fragmented poems of Kristy Bowen’s chapbook Errata, which you can still get for free until Nov 1 – see her blog, here.
In the last two months, sales of Female Comic Book Superheroes have raised a little over $40 for Katrina flood victim relief. Thanks to everyone who bought a copy! I’m sending the funds on Halloween.

And, in case you were wondering, here is a link to the final version of my book cover – many thanks to everyone who responded about the previous draft – now I just have to wait to see it on real live paper!

On my way out of town for a few days of r&r…but check out Suzanne’s blog for some good news and great cover art (PS Buy her chapbook!)

OK, drum roll…
Here’s a link to the draft of the cover art for Becoming the Villainess from Steel Toe Books, on bookshelves everywhere (hopefully) next year…
https://webbish6.com/poetry/images/villainess_full.jpg
The text and author pic on the back are all just placeholders, complete with typos etc. Let me know what you think! The art was created by the multi-talented Michaela Eaves.
And, where is Jim Behrle when you need him? I’m trying to choose a pic for the back and I need him to tell me “what the hell is up with my author photo?”