Joe Milford Poetry Show Interview Today

I'll be reading from After the Poison and discussing Conquering Venus this evening on The Joe Milford Poetry Show starting at 5 p.m. eastern time. You can listen live at www.joemilfordpoetryshow.com. If you can't listen to the live show it will be archived. Check out Joe's archive for some of the other amazing poets Joe has had on the show recently, including Bob Hicock, Dean Young, Tony Hoagland. Sarah Manguso and Reb Livingston.

UPDATE: The 90 minute reading and interview has now been archived. It was a fun, wide-ranging show. Thanks for having me on, Joe!

Conquering Venus Cover Concept

Here's a look at the cover concept for my novel. There will be blurbs and other text added (including the words "A Novel"), but this gives you an idea of what the final book will look like. The photograph is of a statue of Venus on the grounds of the Louvre. The actual Venus de Milo didn't quite work. I love the sky over Paris and the androgyny of the silhouetted statue. Many thanks to my friend Elizabeth and Kimberlee at Vanilla Heart for their help and guidance on the cover. I think it's gorgeous. 

American Idol 8 - New York & Puerto Rico Auditions

Tonight's American Idol auditions in New York City and San Juan, Puerto Rico were scraping the absolute bottom of the barrel. It became clear during every commercial break that Fox whipped up this third night of auditions as a ratings lead in for the season premiere of Hell's Kitchen. The cliched comedy bits, offensive fake "island" accents and cutting back and forth between the two cities reeked of sloppy, incoherent editing.

The hour began in NYC with the delusional Adeola, who compared herself to Whitney and Mary J. and was so confident she was going to Hollywood that she quit her day job. She sang "I Am Telling You I'm Not Going," and her voice sounded like a lamb being slaughtered. Simon actually called Adeola's boss to ask for her job back. Are the lambs still screaming, Clarice?

In PR, Jorge Nunez had a big, gay voice singing "My Way" and "What A Wonderful World" and they put him through. Then there was professional contest winner Jessica Byar, who actually makes a living by entering contests of all kinds, winning more than 700! She'd actually won her trip to audition in San Juan. She said she'd won many singing contests, but her brain-melting version of Celine Dione's "I Surrender" had me waving a white flag. The judges sent her packing. 

Melinda Camille came to the auditions in NYC barefoot, bra-less and shaking her booty. Randy and Simon were hypnotized by her peek-a-boo boobies that threatened to fall out of her strapless dress any second. She could actually sing and they put her through. Jackie Thom had a husky, rocker girl voice and the judges debated before putting her through. She was blah to me.

In PR, a guy who called himself Crazy Rocker kept screaming, throwing himself into walls and had various costumes. He came into the audition room dressed as a giant iPod, but also had puppets and a superhero costume underneath. When the judges said no he went screaming from the room and threw himself in the pool. Anything to get on TV. Ditto with Nick "Norman Gentle" Mitchell, a chubby queen who made the judges laugh, but couldn't sing a note to save his life. They put him through just to humiliate him in Hollywood, obviously.

Monique Torres brought her adorable 9-year-old brother as a prop, but she could actually sing. I didn't get the judges' comments that she wasn't ready after a fairly sold version of "You Can't Hurry Love." She was better than half the people shown. 

The show closed with a return visit by Alexis Cohen (that's her pictured last season), the skeezer who had an expletive-filled, finger-flipping meltdown last year. She tried to dress up her crazy in a shimmery dress and moan her way through Madonna's "Like A Prayer," but it was like crack whore karaoke. When they dismissed her again, she flipped them off and called Simon an asshole. She was the most entertaining thing about the whole flop of an hour. Oh, and there was some fake drama about Patricia Roma in PR, who sang a perfectly fine version of "I Wanna Dance With Somebody." The judges pretended like she wasn't good enough and fake debated her merits while her 100 family members waited for her to emerge with a golden ticket to Hollywood.

Next week it's Hollywood and finally on to the real competition. If you can't wait to find out who makes the Top 36, Vote for the Worst has just about got it narrowed down. Oh, and if you check yesterday's comments, you'll see that Chris Kirkham, who auditioned with the giant bunny, left a comment. That's two Idol contestants (Ross Plavsic was the other) who are reading Modern Confessional. Thanks for reading, guys, and having a sense of humor. Now if Alexis Cohen would comment, it would be a trifecta of near holy proportions.

American Idol 8 - Salt Lake City Auditions

American Idol Season 8 has been two shows a week, until now. I found out tonight it's a three-fer, with auditions tomorrow in New York City and the rumored hot mess that is Puerto Rico. Make it stop! The Salt Lake City show wasn't as boring as last night's coma-inducer, but it was pretty damn close. Not to mention, we got plants and sob stories galore.

The first plant was front and center: David Osmond. His dad was one of the original Osmonds, making David the nephew of Donny and Marie. David has been singing with the family since he was a kid, but the Osmond name ain't what it used to be. Marie is peddling crazy and dolls on QVC and just finished up playing some Las Vegas dates with Donny. I can't rip on David too much because, sadly, he suffers from MS. And so does his dad. David was in a wheelchair and lost use of his hands for a time last year, but the MS is in remission. He has a nice, bland voice and was sent to Hollywood, but rumor has it that he gets cut there.

Tara Mathews was labeled as SLC's only "goth," who used her ESP to predict the death of friends, family and people on TV. Unfortunately, she couldn't envision her own death in front of the judges singing "Someday I'll Fly Away" from Moulin Rouge. I, on the other hand, could see it coming from the moment she came on screen looking like an escapee from a Rocky Horror Picture Show sing-a-long, her tubby frame vacuum sealed into a latex dress, complete with garters and fishnets. Timewarp yourself back to the midnight show, honey.

Chris Kirkham brought his "friend" Greg, who dressed up like a giant pink bunny. I smell some plushie love going on (go on...Google it). I have no memory of what Chris sang, but the giant bunny picked Simon up and shook him like a rag doll until I thought he might slip a disk. Frankie Jordan -- a cross between Jennifer Love Hewitt and Amy Winehouse -- sang "You Know I'm No Good" (by Winehouse) and was sent straight to Hollywood. Continuing on the Brit tip, Megan Corkerie -- a mini-sob story about her divorce and single motherhood -- sang "Can't Help Loving That Man of Mine" and had a little Adele thing going on. 

During the commercial break, we got a sneak peek at season one winner Kelly Clarkson's new video for "My Life Would Suck Without You." It sounds amazingly like "Since You've Been Gone," and I think it's hilarious that Kelly wouldn't give Idol the time of day after her big hit album a few years ago. Then her second album went down faster than the Titanic, so she's back to sucking from the Idol tit. 

Austin Sisneros -- 17, class president, future douche -- sang two songs I've never heard of with a bit of a lisp, was all golly-gee-willickers, and the judges put him through with the advice that he be more contemporary. The next big plant was Taylor Vaifanua, who has a website, MySpace and an album out already. Kara made some comment about hearing her singing in the bathroom, but my guess is she heard her in a concert or a radio somewhere. Vote for the Worst outed her as a plant and are calling her Jordin Sparks 2.0. I'm going to need to hire a nurse to keep checking my pulse all season obviously. 

Then came the sob story to end all sob stories. I can't goof on this girl either because I genuinely felt sorry for her. Rose Flack lost both of her parents, lived in a van and at 17 is now living with her best friend's family. She's a hippy chick, but I liked her voice. She sang "I Feel the Earth Move" by Carole King and had that retro sound that's so hot right now with Duffy, Winehouse and Adele. They sent her to Hollywood and, golly gee willikers, I hope she does well.

Self-Publishing & Post Office Blues

The New York Times has an interesting article today about authors self-publishing and how it's eating away at traditional publishers like Random House. There are a number of success stories about authors who self-pubbed and were picked up by a major publisher. One they don't mention is N. Frank Daniels, a former Atlanta writer who self-pubbed his novel Futureproof with Lulu and had it picked up by Harper Perennial. The quote from the NYT piece that chaps my ass is from Lulu CEO Robert Young: "We have easily published the largest collection of bad poetry in the history of mankind," Young said. Yeah, what about all those micro-presses who use Lulu to publish some of the best poetry in the country? I suggest Young take an extra helping of STFU. Those "bad" poets are paying his salary.

Another interesting tidbit in today's news: the United States Post Office is falling on hard times because of economy and the Internet, so they want to cut mail service by a day. If you ask me, there's already some fuckery going on at the PO. I mailed something priority last week and it took six or seven days to arrive, while a package sent to me should have been here in four days and took two weeks. Since postage rates are going up yet again in May, pretty soon it will be just as cheap to use FedEx or UPS. 

The cover concept for Conquering Venus will post on Friday morning. American Idol recap later tonight. Check back soon!

American Idol 8 - Jacksonville Auditions

The Jacksonville auditions of American Idol were so boring tonight I couldn't even be bothered to find a photo to accompany this post. There was lots of cornball, useless filler: Randy Jackson used to be in Journey! Paula and Kara fake kiss -- and nobody liked it! Contestants butcher "Walking on Sunshine!"). Let' just get right to it...

First up was douchebag supreme Joshua Ullova, who doesn't mind being compared to season one has-been Justin Guarini. Way to aim high, Joshua. After a twitchy version of "Let's Get It On," the judges put him through. Sharon Wilbur brought her cute shih tzu, which yawned through her attempt at "Superstar." They put her through, too. I hope they both enjoy their free trip to Hollywood and don't lose their return tickets.

Dana Moreno should be set on fire for butchering Chaka Kahn's "Through the Fire," while Anita Baker ought to file a lawsuit against Kaniswa Finne for leveling the classic "Rapture." Jalissa Velos, a former Miss Florida Latina USA pageant girl, had a scary laugh but managed to sing a Whitney song (I forget which one) and they put her through, although she'll never make it in Hollywood. She's got pageant stank all over her. 

Darin Darnell was an annoying Chatty Cathy in the holding room, trying to make friends with everybody, including some guy he was crushing on that got cut. Darin started crying about losing his friend (?!) and cried all the way through the audition, where he proved to be tone deaf. Therapy, baby, loads and loads of therapy. 

Naomi Sykes tried to sing Minnie Ripperton's "Loving You," but the only note she could actually hit was the famous high note. She cried after Simon called her joke and then said on her way out: "I don't know what I did wrong." Maybe she can get in on a therapy group rate with Darin. Jasmine Murray sang Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry" and Simon called her "cute, commercial and with a nice voice." She made it through effortlessly and will probably be in the Top 50. 

Tonight's loony was George Ramirez, a shifty-eyed Night Stalker looking mo-fo working Joaquin Phoenix's new homeless look. He mumbled his way through some song, and I could see Paula adding him to her crazy list. T.K. Hash auditioned last year and didn't make the cut, but he came back strong with a soulful version of "Imagine." He's cute and will probably make the Top 50.

Michael "Cry Baby" Perrelli had a meltdown in the holding room when he found out he couldn't audition with his guitar. This douche in a do-rag cried through the whole audition, singing a nasally version of Third Eye Blind's "Jumper." When he started begging, Simon dismissed him with a curt, "You're getting on my nerves." When his mom tried to hug him, he pushed her away and said, "Don't touch me." Someone get this baby a blanky and a bottle.  

The show closed with tonight's plant, Anne Marie Boskovich. After the judges bizarrely made her leave the audition room to get some make up and change clothes -- to look more like a star -- she came back and sang Colbie Callait's annoying "Bubbly." In all this hoo-ha, it was never mentioned that Anne Marie already has a singing career, appearing on the The Little Mermaid soundtrack and with numerous videos on YouTube. Rumor has it that she's already made it to the Top 50.

Tomorrow night it's on to Salt Lake City, hometown of David "Fetus" Archuletta. Yawn.

Skins, John Updike & Other Notes

Skins, one of the best tv shows ever, is now out on DVD here in the states. Season 1 just came out from BBC America and it's completely unedited and uncut, restoring all the salty language, nudity and drug use cut for airing on basic cable. I've had the series on DVD for a couple of years since it first aired in the UK, and I can tell you this is one of the most well-acted and well-written shows I've ever seen. Teen angst has never been documented like this. I'm actually stunned BBC America picked up the show at all because it really is way out there by US standards. For all of those who saw Slumdog Millionaire, Dev Patel got his start on Skins playing the always horny Anwar. Buy it, Netflix it, watch it. Series 2 will be out on DVD soon and the third series began in the UK last week. It has a totally new cast, but is off to an amazing start. BBC America will show it sometime this Spring. Check out the series website at this link and you can even follow the show and its fans on Twitter.

The great novelist John Updike passed away today at age 76, succumbing to lung cancer. He was best known for the Rabbit series (winning Pulitzer Prizes for Rabbit is Rich and Rabbit at Rest), as well as The Witches of Eastwick. I always admired Updike for being able to keep his character Harry "Rabbit" Angstrom fresh and quirky over the series of novels and novellas. He has definitely been an inspiration to me. 

I've seen the cover concept for Conquering Venus and it is absolutely gorgeous! While it's not ready to post, I can tell you that the main image is of a statue of Venus that sits on the grounds of the Louvre. She's looking out over the city and the sky is an amazing faded gold. Can't wait for all of you to see it. 

American Idol recap later tonight! Check back in.

Working Aretha's Hat

Aretha wishes she looked this fabulous! 

(Thanks, Donna, for Aretha-rizing me.)

Weekend Update

I mentioned in my original post about Conquering Venus that it's the first book in a trilogy. While I'm waiting for the first galley from Vanilla Heart, I'm working on the second book. I had 208 pages, but didn't like where the narrative was going. So, I took a deep breath and stripped out the last 25 pages. Of course, I hadn't touched this manuscript in well over a year, so it's taken me about a week to really get back on the fiction horse and find that voice again. On Friday night and again last night, I managed to write 20 new pages. The plot is back on course and I'm excited. Still, I have about 125 more pages to go, so it's early days.

Yesterday afternoon was Cherryl Floyd-Miller's reading from Exquisite Heats at Wordsmiths Books in Decatur. We had a small, but appreciative crowd and Cherryl gave an excellent reading and fielded some thoughtful questions from the audience. It was great to meet poet and writer Robert Lee Brewer (who keeps the fantastic Poetic Asides blog for Writer's Digest) and his wife Tammy, and I appreciate Christine Swint, Julie Bloemeke, Rupert Fike, Randy Prunty, Chelsea Rathburn and Jim May for coming out. Cherryl is reading again tonight at Java Monkey Speaks in Decatur starting at 8 p.m. I'm planning to read something during the open mic. 

I have become a total Facebook junkie. If you're on FB, look me up! 

Weekend Music: Epilepsy is Dancing - Antony and the Johnsons

...cut me in quadrants, leave me in the corner, ooh now it's passing, ooh now I'm dancing...

Thursday Notes

Elizabeth Alexander will give her first post-inauguration reading here in Atlanta at Emory University on Feb. 11. The free reading will be in Glenn Memorial Chapel starting at 6 p.m. There will be copies of "Praise Song for the Day" from Graywolf Press available. I'll be there to get mine signed. The vitriol over Alexander's poem in the blogosphere is distasteful and approaching the pathological. The reaction from some poets says more about them than it does Alexander's poem. I think Reb Livingston summed it up quite succinctly at her blog. And slide over to January O'Neil's wonderful blog to see the clip of Alexander cutting up on The Colbert Report.

The fabulous Cherryl Floyd-Miller will be reading from her recently-released collection, Exquisite Heats, on Saturday, Jan. 24, at 2 p.m. at Wordsmiths Books in Decatur. This is an incredible, unexpected collection and Cherryl is not to be missed. Get there if you can. She'll also be reading at Java Monkey Speaks on Sunday night at 8 p.m. and you can read your own work during the open mic. 

Things are happening behind the scenes on Conquering Venus. I'll be launching the blog for the novel in a week or so, and Vanilla Heart is going to make a promotional video that will be on the press site and on YouTube. The cover art is in the works, too.

American Idol 8 - Louisville Auditions

American Idol came riding hell for leather into Louisville for auditions at Churchill Downs, and the racing cliches were coming fast and furious. One of the more interesting aspects of tonight's show was Paula's bizarre wardrobe. On day one of auditions she looked like a school marm, but the next she looked like a second-rate Pussycat Doll. Paula's got so many personalities...errr...looks. Yeah, that's it. And we're off...

First up was Tiffany Shedd, a Paris Hilton-wannabe with too much make-up, a fried blonde bleach job and overindulgent, tone deaf parents. Her father had child toucher eyes and her mother looked like one of those Southern Baptist women who love Jesus by day and pills by night. Tiffany's attempt at Mariah Carey's "Hero" frightened the horses in the stable. She said if she didn't make it to Hollywood, she was going to college. Alert the frat boys because Tiffany is on the way.

Our next plant was Joanna Pacitti, who Kara recognized the moment she walked in the door. Although they didn't give any backstory, Joanna made national headlines when she was cut from the Broadway revival of Annie when she was 12. Barbara Walters even interviewed her on 20/20 at the time. After that, Joanna  signed to a deal with A&M Records and had songs on the soundtracks to Legally Blonde, First Daughter, Nancy Drew and has some slick, expensive videos floating around YouTube. Her album tanked and she was dropped, but her being on American Idol once again calls into question the whole legitimacy of the show. She's a bigger plant than Carly Smithson last season. Joanna cried and shouted Pat Benatar's "We Belong," but it was already pre-determined she would be going to Hollywood. I feel cheated. 

Mark Mudd told Miss Ryan Seacrest that his claim to fame was that his great-great-great-great grandfather (that might be one too many greats, but I lost count) was the infamous Dr. Mudd, who set John Wilkes Booth's leg after he assassinated Lincoln and jumped from the balcony to escape. Mark Mudd assassinated George Jones' "White Lightening" with an accent so straight out of the holler that he makes Loretta Lynn sound like a duchess. He told the judges to "be careful," which Simon and Paula thought was a threat. That's one more crazy on Paula's stalker list. 

Brent Keith Smith is another plant, and they gave him zero backstory. Allow me. He came in sixth place on Nashville Star (country's version of AI), has videos and sang the theme song to the movie Dale. Not surprisingly, he was sent straight through to Hollywood.

After a montage of a 900 pound guy dancing to "Billie Jean," a queen in face paint singing "Mr. Zebra" by Tori Amos (that's him in the picture with his bestest fag hag) and some assorted rednecks, there was a guy named Matt who sang a Gavin DeGraw song. My cable went out for about two minutes, so I totally missed the judge's decision. I saw in the recap of the show that they let him through. He was kinda cute, but his voice was just okay.

The uber-loony for the show was Ross Plavsic, a huge geek with a scary overbite, who appears to be a genius at everything except singing. He tried some opera and then "Love Me Tender," but sounded like Lurch from the Addams Family both tries. He wanted some water to clear his throat and walked over to the judge's table and started drinking from Paula's cup. I guess a little Vicodin tea never hurt nobody. Paula not only wanted a new straw, but a new cup once they sent him packing.

Alexis Grace was a bit shouty on "Dr. Feelgood," but she seemed fresh-faced and eager so they sent her through. Aaron Williamson couldn't stop shouting "Whoooo!" and he murdered Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Have You Ever Seen the Rain," while Kara tried to be funny and pulled a Meg Ryan fake orgasm. That shit was not cute. Kara is a waste of space at that table. Rebecca Garcia looked promising, but the moment she started singing Carrie Underwood's "Before He Cheats" the promise died a horrible, strangulated death. 

After a montage of people who could actually sing (shocker!), we got tonight's sob story audition. This is becoming a little too predictable. Tonight it was Laneshe Young, who had been homeless and living in shelters with her single mom for years. She was all tearful and sad in the holding room, then came prancing into the audition with just a wee bit too much attitude for my taste. She sang an original song about needing some thug loving and the judges just adored her. Hmmm...I'm guessing she doesn't make it out of Hollywood, which the producers can then milk for more pathos. 

Cable blipped off again right at the end, so next week the auditions are either in Puerto Rico, Salt Lake City, Jacksonville or East Rutherford (?!). Stay tuned. Oh, my recaps are now being featured each week on the new website GoGay411.com, which seems very appropriate for me and American Idol. Just look under the Articles heading on the homepage.

In Memoriam: Carol Mitchell-Leon

The great Atlanta actress and teacher Carol Mitchell-Leon has died after a long illness at the age of 57. I had the pleasure of interviewing Carol several times and seeing her in dozens of stage shows here in Atlanta, including her masterful turn as Amanda Wingfield in Tennessee William's The Glass Menagerie (pictured above). Movie audiences will remember her from Fried Green Tomatoes, Diary of a Mad Black Woman and Idlewild. Carol had that rare gift of being able to disappear into a role so completely that you never thought for a moment you were watching an actor. She could play anything...from comedy to drama. She was a great lady and will be missed. 

(Photo by Louie Favorite/AJC)

American Idol 8 - San Francisco Auditions

After watching the Obama inauguration festivities all day, I'm about television-ed out. Thankfully, American Idol was only one hour tonight, showing the best and worst of the San Francisco auditions. Let's dive right in, shall we...

Tatiana Del Toro claimed to be from Puerto Rico, but she's obviously been taking Madonna's fake accent classes. Besides being a singer, Tatiana is also a model, actor, director and bringer of spirits. Sporting a pageant gown from 1992 and with one of the most frightening laughs ever, Tatiana also brought an envelope with her CD, bio and naughty photos. She sang "Never Loved A Man" and when the judges wavered, sang a few other songs. Amazingly, her voice wasn't that terrible. They put her through to Hollywood, but she won't go any further. Tatiana said she consulted with one of America's top psychics, who told her she would be in the Top 12. Honey, get a refund. 

After a montage of some of San Francisco's users, boozers and losers, David-Anthony strolled in wearing an ugly plaid coat and looking reminiscent of a Cro-magnon man. Luckily, my phone rang right as he started to unhinge his jaw and sing. I don't know what he sang, but the judges sent him packing and I didn't have to listen to it. Jesus Veluza also had a questionable voice, but when he brought his two adorable kids in holding up signs asking the judges to put him through to Hollywood, of course they did. And one of the kids hugged Simon! Somebody call DFACS.

Akilah was obviously given a day pass from the crazy farm to audition, because she showed up with a dirty manila folder full of dog-eared, stained papers she'd printed out at the public library on how to be a gospel singer. She couldn't pronounce larynx or trachea ("larink" and "tracia," as she called them) and she decided to sing her own song, "Make Sweet Love." When that flopped, she tried to sing something else and -- I kid you not -- said she had to push her vocal up from her rectum. If I'd been drinking milk, it would have been coming out of my nose. Of course, Akilah got a little combative when they told her to get out, and Paula walked off the set. Maybe she was afraid Akilah was her next stalker (very doubtful since Akilah said she loved Paula's one hit song from the early 80s. Ouch.). In the post-audition interview, she said the judges were trying to "eractitate" her (you can't make this shit up) and she was worried she was going to come off looking like one of those "auditioners who can't sing." Ummmm...

Annei Murdoch -- looking like a drunk Anna Farris from the Scary Movie films -- tried to sing "Summertime" and appeared to be going into a seizure. Simon asked if she'd had a crate of booze before she came in for the audition. It was oddly uncomfortable to watch her. 

The show closed on a positive note (shock!) with a little emo eye-candy courtesy of Adam Lambert. Other blogs are calling him a plant, since he's already got a career in musical theater and was starring in Wicked when he auditioned. He has a big voice and is really cute. He'll go far. Start dialing, gay boys! This is our chance to put one of our own back at the top -- although he's probably a bottom. He's already taken down his MySpace page, which is a sure spoiler that he's going to be on the show for awhile.

Then there was tonight's tearjerker, a scruffily cute guy name Kai Kolama, who works as a musician by night and takes care of his mom by day. She suffers from a seizure disorder and was all weepy about how her boy had sacrificed his life to take care of her. He sang "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes," and Simon said he sounded like a cruise ship singer (which he kinda did), but he got four yeses from the judges and is off to Hollywood. 

They only put 12 people through from San Francisco. Tomorrow night, it's off to Louisville. 

(Photo Courtesy of IdolBlogLive.com, a site with great AI news and recaps)

Elizabeth Alexander's Inauguration Poem

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Elizabeth Alexander's inaugural poem for President Barack Obama, Praise Song for the Day, is already being torn apart by other poets for its simplicity and her delivery. Cut her some slack, people. You try getting up in front of millions and reciting a poem written to order that tries to encompass the magnitude of the day. Here is the transcript of the poem from The New York Times. UPDATE: Thanks to Mark Doty and Peter Pereira for posting the true formatting, which I've now inserted below. The more I read it, the more I love it. 

Praise Song For the Day

by Elizabeth Alexander

Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other's
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.

All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.

Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere,
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum,
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.

We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,
words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark
the will of some one and then others, who said
I need to see what's on the other side.

I know there's something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain: that many have died for this day.
Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,
who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

picked the cotton and the lettuce, built
brick by brick the glittering edifices
they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day.
Praise song for every hand-lettered sign,
the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.

Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself,
others by first do no harm or take no more
than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?

Love beyond marital, filial, national,
love that casts a widening pool of light,
love with no need to pre-empt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air,
any thing can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,

praise song for walking forward in that light.

Inauguration Day

Music for MLK Jr. Day

Pride (In the Name of Love) - U2




Spiritual High - Moodswings ft. Chrissie Hynde

Poetry Atlanta Presents...

Stacey Lynn Brown, Chad Prevost and Karen Head (pictured above l-r) read yesterday as part of the Poetry Atlanta Presents... reading series at Wordsmiths Books in Decatur. There was a standing room only crowd and the authors sold lots of books. One of the biggest and best readings we've had in the last two years of the series. There were lots of familiar faces in the audience, too, including Travis Denton, Katie Chaple, Christine Swint, Bob Wood (whose chapbook just got picked up by Finishing Line Press!) and Paul Guest, who will be featuring in the series in March. After the reading, we all went over to Brick Store Pub and when we came out, it was snowing.

Thanks again to everyone who has commented below, on Facebook, MySpace and sent emails about Conquering Venus. I really am over the moon about the novel. I'm spending the rest of the weekend working on the sequel.

RIP: Andrew Wyeth. He will remain one of my favorite artists. A retrospective of his work at the High Museum here in Atlanta a few years ago was an awe-inspiring exhibition. I went to a private media viewing and I remember standing in the middle of the main gallery and feeling full of emotion at all those haunting landscapes and figures. He was a genius. 

Conquering Venus Finds A Home!

My debut novel, Conquering Venus, will be published later this year as a paperback original by Vanilla Heart Publishing. I signed the contract on Tuesday thinking that it would be at least a year before the book would be available, but the publisher is so excited about Conquering Venus that she wants to rush it out over the summer. In most cases, this would not be possible, but Conquering Venus has been edited to within an inch of its life in the last 10 years as it was passed around to agents and editors. My friend and fabulous graphic designer, Elizabeth Holmes, is already at work on the cover, I'll have new author photos made in the coming weeks, and four incredible fiction writers (and I do mean incredible!) have agreed to blurb my baby. So, what's the novel about?

In the summer of 1995, young American writer Martin Paige agrees to help chaperone a group of high school seniors on their graduation trip to Paris as a favor to his best friend, teacher Diane Jacobs. Diane hopes Europe will act as a catalyst to lift Martin from his grief following the suicide of his lover, Peter. But the trip proves to be more than either of them bargained for, as Martin finds himself falling in love with one of her students, David McLaren, who is unprepared to cope with his burgeoning sexuality. 

Once in Paris, Martin meets a mysterious widow, Irène Laureaux, who is debilitated by agoraphobia and spends her days spying on the hotel guests across from her apartment. Martin and Irène discover they have a logic-defying connection: a small tribal tattoo on their left hands that means “equal but opposite.” This is same tattoo that Martin’s lover and Irène’s husband had inked into their skin. 

All the characters lives are irrevocably changed in a horrifying terrorist attack at a Paris metro station. Liberated by the blast, forced from her own self-imprisonment, Irène learns her husband’s death was not an accident, and dares Martin to acknowledge the role he played in Peter’s suicide. Diane, harboring her own secrets, takes a drastic step to force David out of the closet and admit his feelings for Martin.

  From America to England to France, the globe-hopping story places fictional characters amidst historical events such as the Nazi occupation of Paris, the student/worker riots of 1968 and the terrorist bombings of Paris in 1995. 

Conquering Venus is the first book in a trilogy, and I'm already 200 pages into volume two and working on an outline for volume three. I have so much work to do over the next six months -- and for the next couple of years -- that I'm numb with a mixture of excitement, fear and total disbelief. In February, Conquering Venus will have its own blog, where you'll be able to find out more about the characters, read a longer synopsis, get a sneak peek at the first chapter, see photos from the trip I took to Europe that inspired the story and an interactive map of the locations in the novel. 

I hope everyone will help me celebrate the culmination of what has been a life-long dream. I can now officially call myself a novelist. 

American Idol 8 - Kansas City Auditions

Thanks to YouTube and other sites who have posted clips and commentaries, I have been able to piece together a brief recap for tonight's American Idol auditions in Kansas City. 

Let's just jump right in with Von Smith, a cross between Jason Mraz and every drama fag you went to high school with. He's been called a plant because he was on The View and has clips all over YouTube of his performances, including a diva version of "I Am Telling You I'm Not Going" that is beyond camp. After clearing his throat of some phlegm, he belted out an over the top version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." He's a one trick pony in a seriously ugly hat. New judge Kara said Von Smith had "a really big instrument" (snicker) and they unanimously sent him to Hollywood. He should have used his Rosie O'Donnell hook up and gone to Broadway instead. Did I ever mention how much I hate musical theatre? Yes, I know...bad gay.

Last season's resident stoner, Jason "Janice Muppet" Castro, returned to pimp out his younger brother, Michael (pictured). Sweet Jeebus...is this whole family smokin' da reefer? Michael -- sporting a haircut that Pink herself would think twice about -- mumbled something about how Jason was more girly and he's the real man. Say which? Then he went into audition room and said he'd only started singing 20 days ago. I can see the Castros sitting on the couch, giggling, and passing a fat doobie with Jason saying..."bro, bro, bro, bro, bro....bro....you know what would be hella cool, bro, bro, bro...if you like went and auditioned for Idol. Bro, bro, bro...you're totally double tokin'....pass the chips dude I got the munchies." So, he sang some Gavin DeGraw song and Simon called it "good-ish," but Kara called him "ballsy." What? She must have been getting a contact high. They put him through to Hollywood, but only because he's Janice Muppet's brother. Ugh.

There was a montage of the "gimmicks" (isn't this whole show one big gimmick?) contestants use to stand out: costumes, pets, puppets, mental illness. Then two cheerleaders burst into the audition room to introduce Andrew Lang, a gangly boy who sang a blah version of "My Girl." The judges were so-so on him, but then he ruined it by singing a second song I can't remember and they told him to go try musical theatre instead. The cheerleaders started crying and Simon said he was starting to get uncomfortable. Starting to get? Hell, I was uncomfortable when the big girl cheerleader calmost dislocated both her hips trying to do a split. 

Michael Nicewonder looked like a low-rent Christopher Guest in Waiting for Guffman mode, who came to the auditions wearing his elementary school chorus medal with a fortune cookie message taped to it. He's 20, by the way. His mom had already told him he couldn't sing, but he decided to audition and prove her right. Then Dennis Brigham came in acting all spazzy and sang a piss-poor version of Chris Brown's "With You." They let him through. Hollywood cannon fodder for sure and a total waste of time.

Mia Conley slept upright most of the day, then tried to impress the judges by singing Minnie Ripperton's "Loving You." Dogs across America were howling. When they sent her home, she cussed out the judges and said: "I know I can sing. God will make the judges pay." Security and reality check on aisle four, please. The show closed with the unfortunately named Lil Rounds who sang "All I Do" by Stevie Wonder. She has a nice, soulful voice, but the judges went waaaay over the top in their praise. She'll probably make it to the Top 36. Oh, yeah, they're doing Top 36 instead of 24 this year. Don't ask me why...I guess to torture us a bit more. 

Next week auditions roll on to Salt Lake City, New York, Puerto Rico and San Francisco. Stay tuned.

Mid-Week Notes & Notions

I'm reading tonight at a memorial service at the Callanwolde Fine Arts Center for poet Dr. John Stone. That means an abbreviated American Idol recap, or maybe none at all. I could record it, but I don't have a VCR or DVR (I know, I know...). Let me direct you to the sidebar of this blog where you will find links to a number of sites that will do great recaps of tonight's auditions in Kansas City. Regular recapping will return next week as auditions continue. 

This Saturday is the first Poetry Atlanta Presents... reading of 2009 and it's going to be a corker: Stacey Lynn Brown, Chad Prevost and Karen Head. I'm your dapper host for the reading, which begins at 2 p.m. at Wordsmiths Books in Decatur. The poets will have books for sale, including Karen, who finally got copies of her wonderful chapbook, My Paris Year. Stacey will be signing her book, Cradle Song, which has literally just been published by C&R Press. Don't miss this reading, or you'll be kicking yourself on Sunday.

Check back at Modern Confessional on Friday morning for a big announcement. Really big. Huge. Gigantic, even. A new adventure is about to begin.

RIP: W.D. Snodgrass, Patrick McGoohan and Ricardo Montalban. 

American Idol 8 - Phoenix Auditions

The eighth season of American Idol began tonight with a montage of "great moments" from past years set to the strains of "What A Wonderful World," and maybe it was my imagination but there seemed to be more users, boozers and losers (hat tip to Jerri Blank) in the clip package than winners. Cut to hostess Miss Ryan Seacrest standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon (insert your own joke here), who promises that this will be the "biggest season ever." Ooooh, boy.

Auditions began in sweltering Phoenix, where there was a quick introduction of new judge Kara DioGuardi (she's written for Pink! Celine! David Cook!?) before the first lunatic of the evening strolled into the audition room. The fear that American Idol was going to cut back on the number of mental cases proved totally  unfounded from the get-go. Tuan minced into the room with an Afro so picked out that it would have given Pam Grier pause in 1974. He could hide an AK-47 in that mop. After tapping and doing some embarrassing Michael Jackson/drill team moves to "The Way You Make Me Feel," he was ushered out. Emily Wynn-Hughes belted out a great version of Heart's "Barracuda" and was put through to Hollywood, but here's a spoiler: according to Vote for the Worst, she gets cut there.

Then came Randy Madden, the cliched rocker douche who broke down in tears after an atrocious impersonation of Bon Jovi that prompted Simon to call him a drama queen. JD Ahfua got sent to Hollywood, but I pray he does some manscaping on those giant eyebrows. Michael Gurr -- a scary cross between Donnie Darko, Tobey McGuire and Gollum -- mumbled two songs and then passed out in the hallway. He's a restraining order waiting to happen.

X-Ray spazzed into the room with a guitar that he, thankfully, did not play and sang "Cactus Baby." He sounded like he was having a grand mal seizure or throttling a seal, and had to be escorted out by security. He's probably on Paula's stalker list. Speaking of Paula, those cheap sunglasses were u-g-l-y. Did she get her eyes dilated? Don't answer that. After X-Ray, Arianna sang Corinne Bailey Rae's "Put Your Records On," flashed a winning smile and was sent on to Hollywood.

Elijah Scarlet (one of the greatest names ever!) had a voice so bizarre that it can only be described as a Yeti meets Paul Robeson pumped full of thorazine and on the verge of an irreversible coma. I'm talking death rattle bass. Paula suggested he do voice over work for horror movies. Snap! Kara DioGuardi met her stalker, a frightening sixteen-year-old named Lea Marie who idolizes the unknown new judge. She brought her notebook filled with over 100 songs she'd written, but then nasaled her way through "Everytime We Touch," that weak-ass techno song by Cascada. Just YouTube it. 

Stevie Wright -- named after the great Stevie Nicks, so no pressure there -- actually did a nice job with the played out "At Last" and was sent to Hollywood. Michael Sarver, an oil rig roughneck, also impressed the judges with his voice, despite looking like a bloated boyband reject.

After a montage of the severely tone deaf, came Miss Bikini. This was such a waste of time set up, that I almost don't want to comment. Simon and Randy put her through to Hollywood to piss off Paula and Kara, who embarrassed herself thoroughly by trying to show Miss Bikini how Mariah Carey's "Vision of Love" should really sound. She's a songwriter for a reason. Miss Bikini is the ultimate pageant girl bitch. Best moment: Kara trying to make out with Miss Ryan while Katy Perry's "I Kissed A Girl" played in the background. Lord...

Sexual Chocolate, a seventeen-year-old kid with too many tattoos, butchered Stevie Wonder; Brianna played cute to get a ticket to Hollywood with no prayer of going any further; Cody Sheldon makes horror movies and might be this season's Danny Noriega; and Alex was the Clay Aiken of the night -- a total nerd with a great voice. 

The night closed with a tear-jerker as Scott MacIntyre, a 23-year-old blind music prodigy, sang a beautiful version of Billy Joel's "And So It Goes." He sailed through to Hollywood, but Miss Ryan humiliated himself by trying to give Scott a high-five in the lobby. Tomorrow night the auditions move to Kansas City. 

American Idol Season 8 Begins Tomorrow

Oh, yes, it's American Idol time once again! You might have noticed the new AI section in the sidebar, which has links to other great blogs and sites also covering the eighth season of the singing contest. For the past two years, I've been faithfully blogging about the show everyone loves (and loves to hate), and I've got my snark all sharpened up for the new series. American Idol premieres tomorrow night -- Jan. 13, 8 p.m. (ET) -- and my first post will appear shortly-thereafter. There will be spoilers if you live in other time zones, so you've been warned. I've also repositioned the Subscriber links so you can easily bookmark Modern Confessional and follow the blog, whether it's for Idol or any of the other topics that come up here.

The big change for the season is the addition of failed rocker/hit songwriter Kara DioGuardi (pictured with Randy Jackson, Paula "Miss Pills" Abdul and Simon Cowell in the photo above) as a permanent judge. DioGuardi has written hits for Pink, Kelley Clarkson and even co-wrote Kylie Minogue's big hit, "Spinning Around," with Paula. The general thought is that Paula's crazy train has finally jumped the tracks and she will be transitioned out with DioGuardi in place for 2010. There are rumors that Paula is developing her own talk show (?!!!), plus she's selling her jewelry on HSN and dealing with stalkers. One killed herself outside Paula's house late last year, and Paula blamed the producers of Idol for letting her get into auditions. Apparently, another of Paula's stalkers had to be removed during audition taping for this season. There's a whole lotta crazy around Miss P. 

The Modern Confessional does tend to get Idol-centric around this time each year, but never fear: there will be plenty about writing -- both poetry and prose -- interspersed between all that Idol. 

Weekend Update

It's been a fairly busy weekend, more so than I wanted it to be. Yesterday (and continuing today) I worked on a final report for the last Poetry Atlanta grant. I put it off far too long, then got sidetracked by tonsillitis, and now I'm right up against the deadline, which is tomorrow. Sigh. Budgets, demographics, blah, blah, blah. Not how I wanted to spend my weekend.

  Last night, I slipped over to Wordsmiths Books in Decatur for the launch of Megan Volpert's new poetry collection from BlazeVOX Books, the desense of nonfense. There was a good crowd and lots of familiar faces such as Cleo Creech, Rupert Fike, Dustin Brookshire, Jessica Hand, Chelsea Rathburn and Bridgitte Byrd. Laurel Snyder and JS van Buskirk gave excellent support as the "opening acts" for Megan's reading.

  Before I went to bed last night, I watched the latest Coen Brothers film, Burn After Reading. Oooh, boy. Not that good. Glad I didn't pay full price at the cinema. It had a few moments of hilarity, but it seemed really slapdash and not very well thought out despite the stellar cast. Frances McDormand stole all her scenes, but that ain't saying much.

I'll be reading Wednesday night at the Callanwolde Fine Arts Center in Atlanta as part of a tribute to the late poet, Dr. John Stone. It starts at 8:15 p.m. Come by if you can and celebrate the life of this remarkable man. 

Weekend Music: Paris Paris - Malcolm McLaren & Catherine Deneuve

I'm in a Paris state of mind this weekend.

Read This: Disquiet by Julia Leigh

The buzz about Julia Leigh's novella, Disquiet ($13, Penguin), has been building for a couple of months, with rapturous reviews from critics and fellow authors alike (Toni Morrison and J.M. Coetzee both blurbed it). I picked the book up over the holidays and read it over a couple of hours. At just 120 pages, you don't want to put it down, mainly because it's so damn weird. Although set in modern day France, with mentions of cell phones and plasma televisions, there's something decidedly 19th century about the setting and motives. Leigh's prose is masterfully controlled and cinematic. This novella is a film waiting to be made, no script required. Just hand the actors and crew the book and off they go. It's a visual tour de force. 

Olivia arrives at her mother's rural chateau with a broken arm and two young children in tow. She hasn't been home or in contact with her family in a decade, apparently living in Australia with an abusive husband. The next day, her older brother Marcus appears with his wife Sophie, who carries the corpse of their dead baby and refuses to bury it. He walks the grounds having cell phone sex with, perhaps, his lover. The grandmother is in a wheelchair, although she can walk, and leaves chicken bones scattered across the carpet of her grand bedroom.

So, what the hell is going on here? Leigh leaves much of that up to the reader's imagination. Olivia might have killed her husband, although she enigmatically tells Marcus one afternoon as they are sitting by the lake, "I am murdered." At some point I wondered if everyone in the book was dead, sort of like Nicole Kidman and her family in The Others. The character that stays with you is Sophie, who puts her dead daughter to sleep each night in the chateau freezer, then forces Marcus to suckle her breast milk. There's a chilling scene where Olivia's children almost drown while Sophie watches impassively from the bank. Several attempts at funerals are thwarted, including one where Sophie beats down the priest. 

When I read the last page I kind of shuddered; not because anything shocking happens at the end, but because this story and the characters creep into you in the most disquieting way and you can't shake them off. I think that's exactly what Leigh intended. 

The Turn Back To Fiction

With my novel, Conquering Venus, back out at two publishers (three if you count the one in London that's had it for nearly a year with no response. I'm talking to you, Legend Press!), I turned my attention to the 208 pages I've written on the second novel. I hadn't looked at those pages in a year or more and was delighted to find that more than half of them are viable. I need a little poetry break, so the next collection is going back in the drawer for a few months while I bring novel number two up to speed. I'm actually excited about diving back into it. 

Of course, I won't be turning totally away from poetry. I have readings coming up, individual poems that need revising and a short list of journals I plan to submit to in the coming weeks. But going back to work on the collection just doesn't fill me with unicorns and rainbows at the moment. I glanced at it over the New Year's holiday weekend (before illness descended upon me) and it needs significant work and, frankly, I just ain't in the mood. And besides...it's not like I'm the J.K. Rowling of poetry. Or Mary Oliver for that matter. No one is going to be waiting in line at midnight wearing a wizard cape to get their hands on my next collection of poems, so there's no rush. 

Some heartbreaking news in Atlanta today: the incredible staff of The Literary Center at the Margaret Mitchell House was laid off. As a matter of fact, the entire workforce at the house was let go save for one staffer and a couple of part-timers. The Atlanta History Center, which owns and operates the house, cut 74 employees because of the economy. My friends Julie Bookman and Melanie Eisenhart did incredible work at The Literary Center, including Poetry Out Loud, which is apparently in limbo now. Just before the holidays, Julie and Melanie had asked me to emcee the state finals of Poetry Out Loud later this spring. It's a huge loss to the literary community in Atlanta, and it's unclear if the AHC will continue The Literary Center in any shape or fashion. Here's the article from the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

See This: Doubt (2008, John Patrick Shanley)

The film version of John Patrick Shanley's Tony Award and Pulitzer Prize-winning play has received mixed reviews, but don't let that stop you from seeing this: it's a powerhouse. Merryl Streep adds another pitch-perfect, nuanced performance to her canon and is sure to get an Oscar nomination for her role as Sister Aloysius, the principal of a Catholic school in the Bronx, circa 1964. 

Streep plays the sister as a steely, no-nonsense Bride of Christ who believes fear and discipline go hand in hand. When a charismatic new priest, Father Flynn (a brilliant Philip Seymour Hoffman), seeks to modernize the school and become more friendly and open with its parishioners, Sister A. balks. She doesn't like his sermon topics or his easy-going manner with the students and their parents. When Sister James (Amy Adams, like Streep, proving that she can play just about any part) becomes suspicious of Father Flynn's attention to the school's first black student, Donald Miller, she hesitantly tells Sister Aloysius, who begins a personal crusade to find the truth and have him removed from the school. She has no proof, just a gut instinct that something is amiss. But is it?

Without giving anything away, there are so many unanswered questions in the film that it's almost impossible to figure out who is telling the truth. Father Flynn may or may not have had a similar situation at his previous parish, he may or may not have made sexual advances on Donald Miller. When Sister Aloysius has a conference with Donald's mother (a unnerving and heartbreaking performance from Viola Davis, who better get a shitload of nominations), it is revealed (or is it?) that Donald is gay. His father beats hims regularly and Mrs. Miller is glad a man is showing her son any kind of love and affection. "It's only till June," she says, tears streaming down her face. "He graduates and then he can get into a better school and maybe college." This jaw-dropping admission and Sister Aloysius' horrified reaction are the centerpiece of the film.

Streep and Hoffman chew scenery in their confrontations, while Adams tries to play peacemaker, guilt-ridden that her suspicions have led to Sister Aloysius' witch hunt. It's a very talky film, as many stage plays can be (Frost/Nixon included), but Shanley knows when to shut up and let the images do the talking. The old school and church are suitably dark. Windows are mysteriously left open in rooms, where wind and rain pour inside. The light bulb in Sister Aolysius' office blows out every time someone raises their voice. The foreboding almost gets too heavy-handed but the actors keep the film balanced right up until Sister Aloysius' unexpected and tearful admission of her own sins. 

And, yet, Doubt leaves the audience to make up its own mind on who is right and wrong in this story. It might be a bit maddening to those who like their films tied up all nice and neat, but don't go in to this one expecting easy answers. 

Sick Call

Just got in from seeing my doctor, who diagnosed a nasty case of tonsillitis. I feel like hell warmed over, so I'm taking a short blogging break. Hope to have new stuff to post tomorrow night, including reviews of Doubt and I've Loved You So Long.

Meet the new Doctor Who - Matt Smith

Matt Smith will take over as the Doctor when the fifth series returns in 2010. At just 26, he'll be the youngest actor to play the character, who is now in his eleventh "regeneration." Smith takes over from fan favorite David Tennant, who has played the Doctor for the last three seasons. Tennant will continue as the Doctor in four one hour specials over the course of 2009 and will regenerate in the last one. Fanboys are already up in arms over the decision, but they were unhappy about Tennant, too, until they saw what he did with the character. 

The Sound of 2009

Everyone's doing their "best of the year" on the blogs right now, but I'm not interested in looking back today. Music is an important part of my creative process and I can count on one hand the ladies -- yes, all ladies -- who saw me through 2008: Vanessa Daou, Amanda Palmer, Adele and Duffy. Sorry, fellas, you just weren't ringing my bell this past year. For 2009, here's who I'm excited about, and none of them are American. That '80s-influenced sound is going to be big in the UK and Europe this year. I hope it translates across the Atlantic. 

La Roux 

The first single, "Quicksand," from this Brit has been stuck in my head for a few weeks now. She looks like Molly Ringwald, the video is vaguely James Bondish and the sound is definitely electro '80s. Find out more about her at www.myspace.com/larouxuk.

Empire of the Sun

This Australian duo have a touch of glam rock and that shimmery '80s pop sound. The video for their debut single, "Walking on a Dream," was shot in Shanghai and is just gorgeous. www.myspace.com/empireofthesunsound.

Frankmusik

He's a singer, producer and in demand remixer, but he's also produced this incredible slice of high-energy, '80s-tinged pop called "3 Little Words." And he's kinda cute, too. www.myspace.com/frankmusik.

Happy New Year

New Year's Eve was very low-key, which is just what I wanted. I met up with BFF Malory and we went to dinner at Longhorn, where we totally gorged ourselves on prime rib. Then we party-hopped, including a soiree at BFF Karen's house. I was home shortly after midnight watching  Kathy Griffin and Anderson Cooper in Times Square. No illness or gunfire this year, which I think is a plus. 

I spent several hours yesterday re-reading my novel, Conquering Venus, and making some additional tweaks. I plan to finish today and submit the manuscript to two presses tomorrow. Keep your fingers, toes and legs crossed for some success this time out. I've been trying to get this book published for over eight years, and it feels like the time is now. Many thanks to the extraordinary Kate Evans for offering advice, comments and critique on the novel over the last few months.

The next three days are all about writing. I've had some requests by editors for poems, so I have to go through the file and see what's ready. It's also time to look at the poetry collection in progress, which I put aside last year. Poems need to come out and new ones put in, plus a general rethinking of the sequence. I also hope to get out to see one more movie, probably Doubt (I'll post a review) and to finish reading Julia Leigh's Disquiet (the next "Read This").

Doing more reading and writing is my only resolution for 2009. Since I'll be -- gulp! -- 40 this year, I'm trying to make my resolutions more realistic. What are yours?