the letter

i've edited out the sensitive parts of the letter i sent Holmes Homes and the community we are moving into (called Daybreak) back in December of 2005. you will find it posted, in its entirety, below.

but, first, some backstory and a few tidbits for clarity's purposes. Daybreak is the name of the planned community we are moving into. the land is owned by a company called Kennecott, who operates the largest open-pit copper mine in the world. anyway, the copper in the mine is not infinite and will eventually run out. Kennecott bought up land around the Oquirrh mountains (which form the western range surrounding the Salt Lake Valley, and where the copper mine sits) years ago for future use. they decided a planned community would be best. this planned community is our Daybreak. check out the Daybreak website if you're interested in more of what it's all about.

other points of clarification:

1) in the letter, i mention a place called Dugway. the Dugway Proving Grounds are to the west of the Salt Lake Valley, beyond the Oquirrh mountains and smack dab in the middle of nowhere, save desert and tumbleweed. it is where the military tests, stores and destroys chemical and biological weapons (including the ultra-deadly, and all-around nasty, VX nerve gas). there is NOTHING appealing or enjoyable about this place AT ALL.

2) Daybreak's slogan is This is getting good. i use a play on this slogan throughout my letter, so when you read this you'll understand what's going on.

that's about it. as i said, i sent this letter to both Holmes Homes and Daybreak. i never heard from Daybreak regarding it (no surprise), but i did hear from Holmes Homes. it little good as things just kept being delayed and fuck-ups kept occurring.

lastly, i will add some links within the letter that might help explain some terms that are obscure or not in common use. realize, obviously, that these links weren't present in the letter as it was a traditionally mailed letter and links don't work on paper. haw! :)

okay, so here's the letter:


Dear Holmes Homes:

My wife and I signed a contract with our real estate agent on June 28, 2005 to purchase a Sawgrass house, Elevation "B", through Holmes Homes. We were very excited to be buying a house at Daybreak, and with Holmes Homes, after having seen the model homes, the future plans for the Daybreak community and all the included amenities. So excited, in fact, that we never felt the typical buyer's remorse after signing the contract and writing a check for our earnest money. Nor did we feel this remorse after choosing our upgrades and options, and writing another check for the flooring deposit. We were excited because we were getting in on a great house, in a great neighborhood; early enough that it was affordable, but late enough to know that things were going to be great. After all, the Daybreak billboards and advertisements around town said it all: This Is Getting Good. In my opinion they were downplaying it. This Is Getting Great.

At the time we signed the contract, we were told ground was slated to be broken on our property sometime around the end of September. Add six months for construction time, and this put the completion date for our house around the end of March, give or take. With not wanting to sell our current house during the winter months, we made preparations to sell it as soon as possible; moving into a one-bedroom apartment in the meantime. We sold our house the last week of August, giving us (by the calculations we were told) around seven months to live in the tiny, one-bedroom apartment.

("Why such a small apartment?" you might be asking. Good question. Well, since we were going to be living in the apartment for less than a year, it was imperative that we find a place that allowed us to break the customary one-year lease. Very few places in the Salt Lake Valley offer this. And those that do require extra money on the rent. Therefore, we could only afford a one-bedroom. Plus, all of our furniture and most of our belongings are packed in storage units until we move into our new house, so unless we got a huge three-bedroom apartment, which we definitely couldn't afford, this was the best we could do.

Well, seven months in a tiny place without most of your belonging is nothing when the end result is moving into a great, new place. September came and went. We visited Daybreak on a weekly basis; driving out there to see the progress (or lack thereof) of our lot. October blew in. No work. No word from Holmes Homes. We called our agent and she said things were are a bit behind, but to be patient. It should happen any day now. Each week construction is delayed is another week we have to suffer in this breadbox of a home. Fine. The end justifies the means. After all, This Is Getting Good. Yeah, good is about right.

October blustered into November. I'll give you one guess on the status of our house? Wrong! It was NOT yet started. I know. I know. "How can this happen?" you say. I don't have the slightest idea. We called our agent again and heard some bogus explanation of a shortage of lumber and concrete due to hurricanes. Well, maybe it's not bogus, but that's a bad excuse since it doesn't really explain the delay up to the hurricanes. Okay, fine. So there was a lumber and concrete shortage. Fine. We can't really complain about that, now, can we? Nope. We'd be selfish, heartless people. So, we remain concrete in our resolve and lumber on.

And, we waited. We kept visiting Daybreak, waiting for the lake to be filled (which, incidentally, we were told was to happen the last week of August and had yet to be done by the end of October. My guess is a shortage of water due to hurricanes. Or drought. Or something. Right?). We kept visiting with the small hope that we'd find something on our lot. So far, out of the 12 or so visits we made out there we found three new pebbles; a small, feeble thistle growing out of a mound of dirt; and, something I am really excited about, a white splotch from seagull droppings. This Is Getting Annoying.
The end-of-November festivities roll around and the wife and I take a trip to Florida to visit family. We wanted to have pictures of the construction of our new house to show them; but, instead, we settled for a picture of our seagull dropping splotch and a stylized drawing I did with crayons and construction paper. We stayed for two weeks, hoping that something exciting would happen while we were there. On the flight back we passed over Daybreak. We saw the lake had been filled (finally) and traced the roads to our lot. No dice. Nothing had changed. I swore I saw a new pebble, but I knew it was impossible to see that kind of detail from the window of a 737 at that height. The houses around ours were going up, now, though. Yet, still nothing on our lot. Who knows why ours is being delayed? Who knows? Do you?

Then, just when all hope has been dashed, we get an email from our agent letting us know that we have been assigned a liaison between construction and homeowners so that we can get better, more timely, information. Great. This Is Getting Better? We'll see.

We call this liaison and he tells us that our house is slated to break ground within 45 days. A quick mental calculation tells me that 45 days is a month an a half. It was early December when we called him, so a month and a half puts it at the end of January. And this is assuming he was telling us the truth instead of blowing smoke. We'll take his word for it. The end of January. Fine. Add six months, and it looks like our house will be done around the end of July, give or take. Ridiculous…I mean: This Is Getting Ridiculous.

This liaison also mentioned that Holmes Homes had made many unrealistic promises regarding construction dates. He also mentioned Daybreak making unrealistic promises regarding permits and other things. Fine. I understand his need to pacify the angry people he has been given. He's pointing fingers at Daybreak and himself (Holmes Homes) but it still doesn't explain how people in a situation like us are supposed to feel. We sold our house quickly, and early, based on erroneous information we were given. We moved into a tiny apartment (too small for a Christmas Tree, even. No lie.), because it was all we could afford with the steep lease-breaking and storage fees. Now, if construction is delayed any further beyond January, we will be paying this lease-breaking fee for NOTHING. How's that for things getting good? Or, we could've sold the house in the spring and had ourselves a nice, little, winter-holiday season, instead of the cramped, angry one awaiting us. This Is Getting Old.

"But," you say, "you signed a contract, Mr. Barrett. And, you are bound by this contract. Plus, if we fail to honor said contract by not building the house within a year you can get out of your contract without any loss of your money."

Well said. Yes, this is true. We DID sign a contract. The contract isn't what concerns me (more on this later, because new information has since come to light where we were given very bad information regarding our house. But, like I said, more later). We still want the house. What concerns me is that you, Holmes Homes, are also bound by this contract. You are bound by what you, and your representatives, tell your customers. We acted upon bad information, told to us by your agents. We were given a construction date off by 4 months (and this is assuming the end of January is right. That still remains to be seen.). Plus, even if we were to get out of our contract without "losing" any of our money, where does that leave us? In a tiny apartment with our belongings in storage, no house to move into, starting over on the house-buying process. Sounds great. You've got us by the short-hairs and you know it. So what if YOU break the contract. We have nearly $5,000 invested in this house that we CAN get back, but you've already made how much on the interest of that money? And, will we see any of that interest? Nope. Raw deal for us, then. Oh, but if we were to break this contract. If we were to have given you bad information month after month. Oooh, I would've loved to see what would've happened. Actually, I take that back. No, I wouldn't. I'm quite certain you guys are litigious and would've sued me for everything I own, and half of everything I don't. This Is Getting Me Very Angry.

We interrupt this letter to bring you a small moment in the life of Mr. and Mrs. Barrett, living in a thumbnail of an apartment and under contract with Holmes Homes for a house in Daybreak:

Julee: "Do you want to drive out to Daybreak today to see if there's anything new going on with our house?"

Justin: "Why? You know they haven't done anything."

Julee: "Come on. We might be surprised."

Justin: "You heard what the guy said. 45 days. We've got another month until anything is scheduled to begin. And that's IF the guy was telling us the truth."

Julee: "Is there anything we can do? This Is Getting Ridiculous."

Justin: "No. There's nothing we can do. We can forfeit the $5,000 we have put down for earnest money and deposits or we can just wait it out, hoping that someone will eventually take notice of what the hell is going on here and start do something about it. By the way, I already used the ridiculous thing earlier in the letter."

Julee: "Okay, fine. But, what about the extra money we're paying for rent so we can get out of the lease early?"

Justin: "Lost money, I'm afraid. Trust me, Holmes Homes doesn't care. Daybreak doesn't care. Hell, the reason all this is being delayed is because they are selling TOO MANY houses. Which means they are making TOO MUCH money. You think they care about us and our concerns?"

Julee: "But, don't they have to finish the house within a year of the contract date?"

Justin: "Ah. That's the tricky part. They get 365 days from the date of execution of the Earnest Money Agreement PLUS 60 days for them to finish…"

Julee: "Oh. Well, that's 14 months. Okay. 14 months, then. Still, we can rescind the contract after 14 months."

Justin: "But, here's the kicker. After that 60 days we may elect to cancel the contract and receive any consideration paid, meaning our earnest money and flooring deposits, LESS the cost of any special additions or modifications made at the request of the buyer."

Julee: "What does that mean?"

Justin: "Well, it means we can cancel the contract, get our money back (interest-free, of course), and start all over looking for a new house so that we can move out of this matchbox of an apartment. Then, we have to hope to high hell that they don't claim that we requested any special additions or modifications."

Julee: "But we haven't."

Justin: "Yes, I know. But we did request that they honor their word and actually build our house. I suppose that could be seen as a special request."
Julee: "That's absurd."

Justin: "I know. But, This Is Getting Absurd."

Julee: "Good one."
Justin: "Thanks, honey."

We now return to our regularly scheduled letter:

Before we were rudely interrupted, I was talking about how we received a notice that we now have a construction liaison. I also mentioned that we had received some recent news regarding our house that had angered us quite a bit.

Last week (December 13, 2005) we received an email from our real estate agent that included an attached letter letting us know of some corrections to information she gave us when we signed our contract. The corrections were more than just corrections, though. They were very major changes to what we were told we will be receiving regarding land/fence and landscaping. And, since our decision to purchase this house and the corner lot that came with it was contingent upon the information she supplied, this is a serious matter to us. It is a serious breach of contract, in our minds. But, again, you have us by the short-hairs, so a breach in contract is little matter to you, isn't it? You have our money and our signatures. You control everything regarding the building and sale of our house. "Move along, little peon, there's nothing to see here. We have you by the short-hairs, little man, and you'll do as I say. And, you'll like it! Or, at least you'll feign liking it!"

Anyway, this letter listed two major changes to what we thought we were getting. First, we will now be required to maintain the side and front parts of our lot. When we signed the contract to purchase this house we were told that our HOA fees (that will eventually be $70/month) would go towards maintaining our front and side lots. "What a fabulous thing," we thought. "It's almost too good to be true," we thought. Turns out it was. So, our $70 a month now goes towards what? The maintenance of the common areas? Towards the privilege of having Daybreak tell us what we can or cannot do via the CC&Rs? (It's a great thing, isn't it, to have the people in your development PAY you to tell them what to do. That's a brand of totalitarianism that Mussolini himself would find ironically sublime.) Fine. Whatever. We will take care of our front and side yards. Big deal. I don't like that I was lied to, but big deal.

But, this is the kicker. This is the one that really got our goat: we now find out that the 12+ extra feet of our corner lot, for which we paid $1,000 will no longer be fenced in. This was a major selling point for us, and the ONLY reason we sprang for the corner lot. So, now we've wasted another $1,000. It's almost a dream come true, wasting money like we were wealthy. Feels good.

But. But. Not to be outdone; we are also still responsible for the upkeep of this unfenced area. So, we buy this land, own this land, but cannot USE this land. However, we are still responsible for the upkeep of it. This land was purchased by us for an additional $1,000, yet will be utterly useless to us. It is being given over (for all intents and purposes) to Daybreak for easement and curb appeal, AND we will now have to lug our lawnmowers outside of our fences and around the corner to mow this unused, expensively-wasted strip of land. Magnificent. This Is Getting Out Of Hand.

Can we sign up for more of this kind of thing. Can we PLEASE pay you MORE money to have MORE land that we CAN'T have fenced in and will be UNABLE to use. That would be great. Is it at all possible for us to get screwed over in more ways? I don't know. Maybe.

Maybe a letter like this will be arriving sometime soon:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Barrett,

We regret to inform you that the lot you purchased through Holmes Homes in the Daybreak community has been moved to the other side of the Oqquirh Mountains in a little town called Daybreak @ Dugway™. But, do not despair. Daybreak @ Dugway™ is a beautiful little outpost with views of bunkers and chemical weapons incinerators.

You'll be happy to know that Daybreak @ Dugway™ possesses its own supply of VX nerve gas, which will come in handy in case of an emergency.

(Disclaimer: We are not responsible should these storehouses of nerve gas or chemical weapons leak and poison you.)

We are very excited about the new Daybreak @ Dugway™ development and are confident you will feel just as at home there as you would at the original Daybreak in South Jordan.

Lastly, we want to inform you of the great new desert lake we have planned for Daybreak @ Dugway™. It will, of course, not be a real lake, but, instead, a lake of desert sand that will be available for use to all Daybreak @ Dugway™ residents (for a small service fee, of course).

Daybreak @ Dugway™. This Is Getting Weird.®

Yours very truly,

Holmes Homes and Daybreak

I am very angry about these recent developments. Would I be as angry about them if we hadn't been screwed around with earlier? Probably, yes. The delay of the building of our house was acceptable because, as I said earlier, the end justified the means. Now, you guys are messing with our end, and it's beginning to get a lot harder for us to justify the means with it.

The worst of it, though, is this upfront promising of what we would get that later turns out to be misinformation or outright lies. Why on earth would we have purchased a corner lot (which we purchased, incidentally, so that our dog would have some room to move around) if we knew we wouldn't get that extra space, yet would still be responsible for the land we would be unable to enjoy? Why would anybody purchase a corner lot under those provisions? But, I suppose that's the point to the deception, isn't it? No one would really want to pay an extra $1,000 for a corner lot they couldn't, in reality, use.

"But," I can anticipate you saying, "You'll have the advantage of not having a house on both sides of your property." Good point. Yes, this is an advantage, but is it really worth $1,000? Is it really worth being given extra land that you own, but not really? Is it? I don't need to answer that because you already know my thoughts on this. This Is Getting Where It's Almost Not Worth It.

We know that we are going to be getting a great house. One we're really excited to be moving into, whenever that might actually occur. We know that the equity we will have in the house upon moving in will be insane, and even better than expected. We know that Daybreak will be an amazing community in which to grow old. We know all this. But, even all these great things can't erase the bad taste in our mouths from all the deception and delays and lies. And every single day that we lug our lawnmowers to our side yard, every single day we drive by the little sliver of easement we donated to Daybreak, will just remind us of it.

But, what recourse do we have? As I said before, we can either get screwed out of our $5,000 in deposits and earnest monies AND start all over to find a new house, or we can wait until Holmes Homes can't meet the 365 + 60 day requirement of the contract (which I'm pretty certain will happen), get our monies back (sans interest) THEN start all over. Either way, we're really losing in this proposition. Neither is an attractive alternative.

So, what do we do? A lot of it depends on you. Both Daybreak and Holmes Homes. It depends on what kind of answer I received from this letter (if any). It depends on what other spitballs you send our way. It depends on what other surprises you have in store for us as things move along. As it stands, we've had enough of the surprises. We just want to have our house started. We just want to move in. We just want it to where it's This Is Getting Good, again!

Sincerely,
Justin Barrett

closure, finally

in the last "house" post, i mentioned the tile error and some other bullshit we had been dealing with on the building of this thing. i mentioned in the comments on that post that i'd decided to write another letter to the builder. the first letter i wrote to them was written in December (a full 9-page epic that i'm still very proud of, maybe i'll post it on here if people are interested in reading it. let me know.). i sent the new letter early last week and two days later received a call from the owner of Holmes Homes. he was understanding of my complaints and frustrations and even commented on the sarcasm (if it's not obvious from my blogging and poetry, i'm a very sarcastic person), and how he could appreciate it. also, he was amenable to meeting with the wife and me.
we met at our house this past Monday. we showed him the 6-inch error to the foundation, which caused our house to be 6-inches shorter (length-wise) than it should be. he said it's definitely an error, that they accept full responsibility and also, unfortunately, that it's nearly impossible to fix. we figured that. but, he was willing to compensate us for the error and for our frustration. we asked if they'd be willing to finish the first-floor half bath (which was to be merely roughed in for future finishing) and he said they would. good news.
we have come to terms with the errors and understand that these things sometimes happen. we're just happy that Holmes Homes is owned by someone who cares about his business and the work they do, and is willing to do what is right. the owner is a good guy and it was reassuring knowing that if we were to have any future issues that it will be dealt with properly.

the right tile was finally laid down and it looks great. the carpet was installed and the only thing left are the appliances and bathroom accessories (toilet, sink, etc.). we heard that our closing date should be sometime between July 7 and July 10. only a week and a half away. my god, we are so fucking ready.

because of the impending move that we will be undertaking shortly, i will probably be quite scarce on this blog. also, we still have to have Comcast come out to install our cable internet, which will probably be a nightmare in itself. i will do my best to update from work, when time and need arises, and will pick it back up again regularly once things have settled down.

in the meantime, keep and eye out for my weekly column, Background Noise, on Christopher Cunningham's fabulous blog, Upright Against The Savage Heavens. i intend to keep publishing the column every Sunday night (or Monday morning (from work) throughout this transition).

Background Noise and how to write well

first, the newest installment of Background Noise is posted on Upright Against The Savage Heavens. take a gander and chime in on your opinions of print vs. online publishing. a little healthy debate can only help us in this press we call small.

second, check out this tongue-in-cheek list on how to write good (sic). funny stuff.

it's all about scale

think about the largest thing you've ever personally seen (other than the moon, sun, stars or planetary body). what is it? a skyscraper? maybe one of those gigantic hangars used for zeppelins? a sports stadium? a mountain?
now, compare that to the size of the earth. it's miniscule in comparison, right? i mean, the earth is humongous.
yet, we all know that the earth is dwarfed by Jupiter and Saturn and, of couse, the Sun. but, HOW dwarfed are we talking?

this should help with the scale. now, just imagine that there are stars out there that dwarf our own. and imagine the size of a galaxy. and imagine the immensities involved in a cluster of galaxies. or in a supercluster.

now, think about the size of our universe. there is no word in any language that can describe it's largeness. nothing even comes close (except MAYBE infinity, but that is a meaningless concept).

now, after all this thinking, how big do you feel? pretty damn small, huh? fairly insignificant? THIS is why art and science are necessary. both use different means towards the same end: shrinking the universe -- or at least our concept of it.

mail call

waiting in my inbox today was a package from Liquid Paper Press with the newest issue of Nerve Cowboy (#21). unfortunately, i didn't get a submission sent in time to potentially have made this issue, but that only makes this issue that much stronger.
featured poets include this poet's life contributors Christopher Cunningham, Kathleen Paul-Flanagan, Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal; great job guys, good work.
also included are great pieces by the likes of Henry Denander, Gerald Locklin, Karl Koweski, Rocking Chair Frank, and Nathan Graziano. all great stuff.
i've said it before and i'll say it again: Nerve Cowboy is the best poetry journal out there.

also in the package was a copy of Karl Koweski's 2nd place-finishing chapbook from the 2004 Nerve Cowboy Chapbook Contest, Casualty of the Industrial Revolution. i'm a big fan of Koweski's stuff and look forward to diving into this one.

a site, a mag and a book

i was browsing through some sites and found this one. there are plenty of article relating to writing and grammar and spelling. good stuff. i wish more people would read these kinds of things.

i received the newest issue of remark. (issue 45) in today's mail. this issue was edited by this poet's life contributor Christopher Kornacki. i have two poems in this issue, but despite that error Mr. Kornacki did an excellent job in choosing poems for this issue (which speaks to the quality of most of the poems). other poets include Glenn W. Cooper, Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal, Michael Estabrook, S.A. Griffin, Karl Koweski, C. Allen Rearick and Amanda Oaks.

lastly, in yesterday's mail was a copy of this poet's life contributor C. Allen Rearick's first chapbook, a split-chapbook with Greg O., published by green panda press and titled from Cali to Cleve. the book consists of seven poems by Rearick and a short story by Mr. O. the short story is amusing and engaging, but it's the seven poems that grab me as the best part of the book (this is probably due more to the fact that i do not write fiction than to the ability of Mr. O.). Rearick's poetry has matured immensely in a very short time, and it shows in this collection.
the chapbook is limited to 69 issues and goes for $6. if you're interested, let me know and i can get you in contact with the author so that you may obtain a copy.
on a related note, my own press (Hemispherical Press) will be releasing a C. Allen Rearick chapbook in 2007. it'll be worth the wait, trust me.

and speaking of Hemispherical Press, it's been a long while since the last release, but the press has not folded (check out the website and contact me if you're interested in purchasing an item) but has only been on a short hiatus. when HemPress returns, we will be releasing some of the best work out there. watch for it.

quantum theory of poetry

over on Upright Against The Savage Heavens, the newest installment of my weekly "column" Background Noise has been posted.

this week i make a fool of myself by coming up with a Quantum Theory of Poetry.

check it out.

update on the house, or just when you think something positive...

...about humanity, the walls of reality come crashing down.

first, we stopped by the house today and i took a picture of my house with my cellphone (see photo to the right). realize it's a cellphone, so it's not the best quality, but it's pretty nice for a low-quality cellphone pic.
the house was painted (first time we saw it painted) and we're happy with the color. the door isn't painted yet, but it will be red, so just try to picture that. we're to have red shutters as well.

okay, onto the continued saga of this poet's house. if you remember from last episode we had been contacted by our builder that our tile (which was a killer 13"x13" specimen) was dicontinued by the manufacturer. we received a free upgrade to a better (i.e. larger) tile due to the inconvenience. the tile we chose was 15"x15", which is allegedly a better-looking tile, aesthetically speaking. the color was a deep burgundy with greenish-brown highlights. very nice. not as nice as our original choice, mind you, but still something we could live with.

well, this was Monday. five days later (5!), today, we show up at the house and find that they've tiled our entire house with the wrong fucking tile. a 12"x12" sand-colored tile that looks NOTHING like the tile we chose. this shit is getting ridiculous. how is it that in five days they can completely fuck something up like this? how is it? what is wrong with people? i have little faith in people, but it appears i put too much faith in these dolts. my wife, the brilliant soul that she is, even said on Monday, after we chose the tile, "i bet these assholes fuck this up." i told her there was no way, we JUST chose the tile. all they have to do is truck it to the house and ta-da, it's done. well, the prescience of my wife will never cease to amaze me. she called it. those assholes fucked it up.

so, our house is five months late. they've screwed up the actual building of it (i never mentioned this, but they fucked up in constructing the house such that our living area is 4" too short and we've an extra 4" in the garage; but to further ruin it, they've had to fashion a "jog" in the back washroom area so they could fit a washer AND dryer in there. plus, the 4" is taken off the kitchen which means the island we'll have in there will be squashed up against the counter with only 8 inches of space between it and the opposite counter), they took so long that our original tile choice is no longer available, and now they tiled the house with the wrong goddamn tile.

i know Holmes Homes (our builder) works only in Utah, but if you ever find yourself in need of a builder, and you're also unfortunate enough to find yourself in Utah, i cannot recommend Holmes Homes as a builder. though, i've heard that every fucking builder in America is as bad or worse, i know from first hand the kind of shit that Holmes Homes pulls. seems they got you by the shorthairs and don't mind pulling. our only recourse is the ability to get our of our contract without losing our earnest money. BUT, we lose the home we've been worrying about and wanted, housing prices in Utah are insane so now we can't even afford another house, and we would have to start all over again with this bullshit even if we could. there's really nothing we can do but bend over and take it; and hope they use plenty of lubricant.

anyway, that's the new development on the house. assuming they'll change the tile, this pushes our move-in date even further back. we signed the contracts on this house over a year ago. it was ridiculous in March. now, it's three months beyond ridiculous.

the house

i haven't posted about it in awhile, and since this is my blog and it's (ostensibly) about my life, i'll go ahead and make a post about my house.

we got a call this past Monday that the tile we originally chose (back in July of last year) was no longer being produced and that we would need to choose a new style. of course it's not in fucking production, we chose the damn thing so long ago. it's probably out of date and would look ridiculous. we wouldn't know, though, because it had been so long that we had literally forgotten what we chose, and how it looked.
we showed up at the showroom to choose our new tile and the guy meeting us brought a sample of the tile we originally chose and one that he thought might work out. it turns out the one we chose was fucking AWESOME, for lack of a better descriptor. of course it was. anyway, we haggled to get a free upgrade to a better, bigger tile and chose one that is nice but not as nice.

it was nice, too, to check out all the other options and colors (countertops, cabinets, house color) of things we chose and forgot about. apparently, we are about 30 days out. it seems we've been perpetually 30 days out.

anyway, we're going back out tomorrow to check the construction. we hope to see all the tile done, the house painted (did i mention it'll be a mustard yellow?) and hopefully some other things. we'll see.

when all is said and done, i'll eventually post pictures here. i don't have a digital camera (i know, i know...) so i'll do my best to borrow one or scan my photos.

a little irony

well, what do you know?
Bukowski always wanted to be in a library. he's written about in many of his poems and short stories. it finally happened.
good for him.

in the mail today & musings on poet laureate

in the mail today was the new issue of small press review (Vol. 38 Nos. 5-6). a review of Naked Knuckle #6 was featured and it included quotes of poems by both Hosho McCreesh and our very own Christopher Cunningham. congrats, guys. you know my thoughts on your work, so it's just good to know others are noticing, too.

on the drive home from work today, i was ruminating about the announcement that Donald Hall will be new (and 14th) Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress. there wasn't much a fucking announcement, really. just some tiny blurbs in the papers (or at least in their online facades). instead, we hear more about Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan. ridiculous.

anyway, it seems to me that the announcement of a new Poet Laureate would be a big fucking deal. i think it is. or at least i think it should be. oh well.

at least there's still those of us like McCreesh and Cunningham rewriting the myths for the next generation.

the ovaltine poems

for those who might have missed it, a fun series of comments have been logged in the is the cliché a cliché post. among those comments have been a bunch of poems relating to Ovaltine, the drink of choice for this poet's life contributor, editor of remark., and poette, Kat.

in the interest of ease and enjoyment, here are the poems so far (plus a new one by yours truly), with bylines below each poem:

slang

"Mary, you
are so fucking
ovaltine
it makes me like
sick
or something."

she flipped open
her cellphone
and sent a
quick text
to her list,
making sure
to tell everybody
that
Mary

is
again
off her
Myspace page.

this time for good.

Mary went home
to try and
figure out
how to be

less
ovaltine

in the future.
--Christopher Cunningham



Ovaltine

if Ovaltine were
money, i'd
be rich

but if Ovaltine
were love,
i'd still
be lonely

without you.
--justin.barrett



madness and strong drink

looking in the mirror
after no sleep for a second
night,
peeling back the corners
of red tired eyes,
sunlight oozing thru
dirty plastic slats,
mouth filled with
ugliness
and the taste of
strong drink.

mind is slipping,

mutter,

"ovaltine"

to the face
I no longer know.
--Christopher Cunningham



Untitled

I heard a fly buzz
And then it died;
Fell into my Ovaltine,
And it made me cry.

It was my favorite fly;
I named it Vincent Price;
Help me, Help me, it cried,
Oh, brother, look at
What Just just made me write.
--Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal



Gone

she used the
ovaltine jar to
stick the post-it
to

‘you boring fucker,
have a nice life.’

I’d miss her sense
of humour,
but that was
about all.
--Brian McGettrick



Untitled Ovaltine Poem

In grade school, mary
was quite
the oval teen.

By the time she
reached high school,
she developed
a bad case
of bulimia.

In between classes
she would vomit
as a means to slenderize.
All the cool kids
would make fun
of her for being
so cliche, till one day
she snapped
and ate them

all.
--C. Allen Rearick



Because it’s very delicious

"Ovaltine?"
I ask,
"Why Ovaltine?"

"Because it's very
delicious," she
says, "plus, it's
good for you."

"Whatever.
Ovaltine is so last
week, AND
it tastes like
crap. I much prefer
Nestle Quick."

"Nestle Quick?"

"Yes, Nestle
Quick.
It’s like Ovaltine
on steroids."

"On steroids?
You're such
a cliché,"
she says.

"You're a cliché,"
I retort. Then,
"Whatever.
And give me back
my steroids."
--justin.barrett



all good stuff. this only goes to show that poetry can come from anything; even something as ovaltine as Ovaltine!

AND, as if all of this weren't enough, the very same Kat who inspired these poems is working on a villanelle to top this collection off.

if any other poets out there are interested in getting in on the ovaltine fun, post your poem in the comments. don't be so ovaltine and get to it!

why wasn't i chosen?

the Library of Congress announced, today, that Donald Hall will be the 14th Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress.

i guess my next order of business is reading up on this Hall fella.

Whitman's invincible city

it appears the city of Camden has decided to offer a tour of Walt Whitman's home. The tour will be away from the Waterfront of Camden (scary thought) and includes a Whitman impersonator. for $30, it's not a bad deal.

Camden isn't the nicest place around, but this little attraction certainly makes it a bit more enticing; at least to this struggling poet.

a kick (err...itch) in the pants

well, isn't this just a fine how-do-you-do?!

good thing global warming isn't really happening, huh?



i'm sorry to tell you that it is, though.

...we interrupt our regularly scheduled blog

for this announcement:

my good buddy, fellow writer in the trenches, periodic commenter to this blog, friend to the world, and all-around good guy Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal has asked that i mention that Jeff Vande Zande's new novel Into the Desperate Country has been released by March Street Press.

i've not read the novel, but Vande Zande is a poet that's been around (including in an issue of remark (#25) while i was still running the joint). his stuff is good, and i am recommending it at Luis's request.

we now rejoin our blog, already in progress...

is the word cliché a cliché?

friend of this poet's life, Kat, was kind enough to forward this article by Jenna Glatzer about clichés and avoiding them in your writing. It's a short article, but informative and enjoyable nonetheless.

is nonetheless a cliché?
what about writing a blog, is that cliché? i'm pretty damn sure that is.

oh well.

feeble rantings

the latest installment of my seminal column, Background Noise, on Upright Against The Savage Heavens, is now posted for all to bask in. this time around i attempt to answer a question for the ages: What is poetry? i fail miserably, of course, but there's a good time to be had in laughing at my failure.

enjoy the feeble rantings and psychotic ramblings of a man on the verge of sanity.

a little linguistics for your ass

just surfing through some sites and found a plethora of linguistic blogs and such.

this is one of my favorites. lots of good stuff from etymology to grammar.
this one is about linguistics, science fiction and other shit. pretty good, too.

was also reading up on linguistic fun:
mondegreens--and here i thought that it was Bingo Jed has a light on.
tmesis--abso-fucking-lutely!
portmanteau--i thought Calexico was just the name of an amazing band?
spoonerism--they call me bustin.jarrett.

who knew they had names for all these things, huh?

it's pretty cool, too, that the word "mondegreen" actually is a mondegreen from a mishearing of a 17th Century ballad. sweet!

i think it would be clever if the other words actually were what they described (much like an onomatepeia and mondegreen):

tmesis would be tme-fucking-sis.
portmanteau is French, and is a portmanteau of sorts. i don't know French, so i suppose this one is immune; or at least it is as for as i'm concerned.
spoonerism should be noonerspism. i like that.

good stuff.

anyway, just having some fun with language this Friday evening, procrastinating on writing that column for Upright Against The Savage Heavens. i'm the king procrastinator. the kingrastinator. the ping krocrastinator. no one can procrasti-fucking-nate like i!

nice. my wife always wanted me to be a cunning linguist.

world cup of poetry

the fabulous poet, and soccer fan, Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal has posted an amazing opus to both soccer and poetry at Upright Against The Savage Heavens, on this the first day of World Cup 2006. check it out, and learn some new things about both soccer and poetry from around the world.

in a few days (Sunday) i will be posting the second installment to Background Noise on the same blog. Look for it.

vive la evolucion!

to go off-topic from our typical poetry fare, here's a great article on the Top 10 myths about evolution. #2 is my favorite. so few know what the hell a theory actually is; how important it is, and how amorphous; and how it IS NOT an opinion.
anyway, a good primer in evolution science.

chapbook of the quarter

i received the 2nd volume of the 2nd year of the Chapbook of the Quarter Club from Bottle of Smoke Press, a great set of poems by Adrian Manning, titled A Tourist, A Pilgrim, A Truth. another fine letterpressed mini-chap by Bill Roberts.

good damn advice

so, it appears i'm not the only one who's a stickler for proper grammar and spelling.

remember folks, spelling and grammar matters.
even in email.

methinks

i received Glenn W. Cooper and Michael Estabrook's new split-chap, methink i see my father, published by Liquid Paper Press, the imprint of Nerve Cowboy's editors.
this chapbook is gorgeously designed and features fabulous poetry about each poet's father, both of whom died while the poets were young.

the book goes for $6 and is well worth every single penny.

background noise

the first installment of my weekly rant called Background Noise is now up on Christopher Cunningham's great blog Upright Against The Savage Heavens. check it out and join the discussion.
it's about why we should write poetry.

we are (were) the champions...

i can't believe i forgot to post it, but back in April my Florida Gators basketball team won the NCAA Tournament. it was a very exciting time in the Barrett household, let me tell you.

anyway, a few more months of summer drudgery before football season begins. i only hope we have half the success our basketball team had. that's a lie, i hope we have more than half, but you know what i mean.

savage heavens

Christopher Cunningham has been gracious enough to ask me to contribute more regularly to his own great blog, Upright Against The Savage Heavens. in that vein, i've decided to write a weekly column, Background Noise, that will be posted every Sunday.

I've posted the first installment, a introduction, and will put up the very first real column this Sunday.

Funk Soul Brother Check It Out, Now!

surfing the web

so, i was out there surfing from link to link on various literary websites and i came across one i had never seen before.

Plagiarist Poetry

there are numerous articles and poetic analysis, and it sports a magazine. but, it's the articles that intrigued me most. there are plenty to choose from, from a host of categories including: individual poets, the art of writing, reading poetry, among others.

there is a fabulous set of letters from a young fan and writer to Ranier Maria Rilke that is worth its weight in gold. beautiful stuff.

anyway, thought it was a great site worthy of a mention. now, i gotta get back to reading about the art of writing.

apartment life is hell

you are suddenly awoken by the deep, guttural throttle of a humongous, diesel truck. GAGUHGAGUHGAGUH. headlights pierce your bedroom window; lighting everything as if it were the middle of the day; throwing shadows into the dark recesses of the room. GAGUHGAGUHGAGUH. it's 12:07am. you roll over, trying to ignore it. trying to sleep through it.
the inconsiderate prick taps the gas, revving the engine. the frequency of the gurgling increases, then slowly drops. he does it again. you look at your clock. it's 12:14am and your alarm is set to go off in less than 6 hours. GAGUHGAGUHGAGUH. it continues. endlessly.

apartment life is getting old. very old. i actually don't mind living in apartments made from old houses, or even townhome apartments, but these gigantic apartment complexes with 12 families per stairwell and 3 stairwells per building, and 30-40 buildings in the complex is just insane. For those who don't want to do the math in their head, that's somewhere in the neighborhood of 1000 to 1500 families per complex. the average family in Utah is 5 people (some areas that's as high as 7, AVERAGE. no kidding!) which means upwards of 5000 people in this one fucking complex. jesus christ. and with the considerate:inconsiderate ratio being at about 25:75, that makes a whole helluva lot of fucking people who just don't give a shit about anyone else.

to make matters worse, the family above us (the ones who got up early on Sunday mornings (see earlier rants)) moved out, to our great elation; however, another family, less considerate than the first, moved in and, apparently, are unaware (or just don't care) that people live below them. their terror of a child runs and bangs and throws shit all day and night long. the parents are constantly slamming doors and, for some reason, have a fixation on the goddamn sliding glass door (which we can hear loud and clear as it is being opened and closed). i can only imagine them being some form of subhuman, country bumpkin living in the city for the first time and enamored by the special, rolling door leading to their porch.

anyway, sorry about my rants. i'm just tired of waiting on this infernal house.
i looked back and noticed that my last post about the house was in January, and we had just had our foundation poured, but no framing yet. well, fast-forward 4 months and we have framing, walls, plumbing/electrical/insulation, drywall, and wall texturing. next time we hear from them (or go to visit it) we should have paint and they should be beginning tiling and carpet.

at least we're on our way. even if it is 4 months later than we were told.

rejections/acceptances

in the past 4 months, these are the rejections/acceptances i've received:

--i was rejected by a Hurricane Katrina anthology put out by Southeast Missouri State called: Hurricane Blues. oh well. i should know better than to expect to crack an academic mag.

--i received an acceptance for 2 poems to appear in an issue of remark. edited by a contributor to this blog, Chris Kornacki.

--i received a rejection from The Knoxville Writer's Guild for an anthology they are publishing. the rejection said they are seeking subs from East Tennessee writers only. again, wrong place at the wrong time.

i haven't submitted much over the past 6 months, so there isn't really much to report. i recently sent a submission out to Nerve Cowboy and i'll update about the verdict when it comes in.

i forgot

to mention what kind of things, poetically speaking, i've received lately.

my buddy Glenn W. Cooper has book of poetry, a joint-chap with Michael Estabrook, out with Nerve Cowboy's Liquid Paper Press, titled methinks i see my father. i've not seen the book yet (though it's in the mail), but i have been priviledged to see the poetry and artwork and, trust me folks, this is going to be one helluva fucking book. do yourself a favor and pick this up. for $6 it's a deal.

my buddy (mentioned in the previous post) Christopher Cunningham has a new chapbook of poems and letters (And Still The Night Left To Go: Poems and Letters) coming out soon by Bottle of Smoke Press. I received a small broadside of one of the poems the other day. Simply brilliant. This book will be amazing. If you've not had the pleasure of sitting back on a cold evening, drinking a beer, maybe some Miles Davis or Rachael Yamagata on the stereo, reading one of Mr. Cunningham's letters, then you've truly missed out. i'll update when the book is ready. i can't wait to get my hands on one.

my buddy C. Allen Rearick has a new joint-chap venture with Greg-O, from GreenPandaPress, which is available now. Limited to 69 copies, so pick one up soon. i hope Mr. Rearick will post a reply to this with the info on how to get one.

lastly, i received word from Eric Dejaeger that he would like to do a dual-language English/French chapbook of my poetry later this year. i'm very excited about this, of course, and will pass on more information as it becomes available.

there's some good stuff out there. more good stuff on the horizon (including some new chapbooks and broadsides from my own Hemispherical Press (once we move into the new house) by Christopher Cunningham, Owen Roberts, C. Allen Rearick, Michael David McNamara and others). keep a eye here for updates.

well hot damn

the weather has changed. it's cold and gritty outside, now, but the sky is so blue it's as if you're stuck in the lattice of a sapphire looking out. small clouds cling to the mountains like an infant primate to its mother. the sun is bright and clear, but the air is still crisp.
it's been a long, long time since my last update. i don't even know if anyone is still around; if anyone still remembers me; if anyone still cares. there were numerous reasons for my absence, but let's just say the rumors of my demise (now matter how self-created) were greatly exaggerated. or, if not GREATLY exaggerated, at least hyperbolized a bit. i'm not dead. i've not quit. i'm still here. i'm still writing, or that is to say, i'm writing again. and i'll be here for a long while. at least as long as the cosmos feel i should be.

what have i been up to? not a whole helluva lot. but, i needed the rest. i needed the break. our house is still NOT yet completed (more about this later). it's getting humorous now, almost. there's probably a month left on it, but they'll stretch it out to two, no doubt.
fuck it.

like i said earlier, i've been writing again. things were difficult for me for awhile, there. i lost my way. i got wrapped up in my own bullshit and stuck in some kind of negative biofeedback loop. there are a few good friends to thank for helping me out of my "funk". you know who you are. THANK YOU. the last time i was writing this regularly was over 15 months ago. now THAT'S a fucking writer's block. jesus.

the country still has a moron at the helm. and he's downright determined to fuck over everyone. well, fuck him. and his goverment. and his fucking tax cut. fuck it all.

i've been posting a bit over at Christopher Cunningham's fabulous blog Upright Against the Savage Heavens. you've heard me talk about Mr. Cunningham before. This man is the real fucking deal when it comes to poetry. he's also quite political and has a few interesting things to say about the current state of our union.

that's about it. waiting on the house, writing some wry, little poems, working, and trying to stay alive just one more day.

quick note

going out to dinner soon, real soon, but just wanted to put up a quick post that the new issue of Spent Meat is now live. my poem the second coming is featured. other poets include J.J. Campbell, Karl Koweski, Chris Major and Jonathan Hayes.
check 'er out.

giveaway

i have an extra issue each of Bathtun Gin #17 and trespass magazine #2, both of which i appear in. if you're interested in obtaining either of these journals, be the first to email me and i'll ship both or either to you.

move along, folks. nothing else to see here.

update, quick-like

i received an acceptance the other day from Kristi over at trespass magazine. my poem in the burning house of angels will be featured in the next issue. trespass is a great new magazine with much potential, so i'm very excited about this. i'll update when it is released.

also, i received the new issue of remark. (issue #40). Kat's done another great job with the design of this issue, and with selecting the poetry. featured poets include Nathan Graziano, ron lucas, Jonathan Hayes and Nescher Pyscher.

slow friday night alone

the wife is out with some girlfriends from work, watching a movie and talking about hairdoes or some shit. actually, in my mind, they are tickle fighting in negligees. just don't tell me it isn't so.
anyway, i got my iPod hooked into the speakers we bought for it, i got The White Stripes blasting through the apartment, i got a beer in my hand and abso-fucking-lutely nothing to do.
back in the day, this would be the time i would scratch out a few poems i'd been mulling about, or tighten up a few i'd written the week or month before. not so much anymore. i squeezed one out today at work, during lunch, but it reads like it was squeezed out...of a fat man's ass. oh well.

we finally heard some good news regarding our house that is being built. to catch you up to speed. back in June we purchased a house, which we told was going to be started near the end of September. Long story short, ground wasn't even broken until just before xmas. we got the runaround so bad that i went against my passive, take-shit-all-day-and-keep-on-smilin' persona and wrote a rather lengthy and terse letter. (i don't do phone calls very well as my voice tends to rise to dolphin click decibels and i forget what i want to say, etc. etc.)
well, i got a call from the builder about the letter saying they understand the situation we are going through, they will rectify some of our problems, etc. etc. AND that we finally have a hole. doesn't seem like much, but it's a fucking milestone in this thing. plus, we actually have a foundation now and the framing should begin any day now. luckily, we've been having a freakishly mild winter (so far) which has only helped things.
the other issues we wrote them about are being worked on and hopefully will be corrected lest i have to take out my mighty pen and dash off another curt letter. my mommy used to tell me that words can hurt, and the pen is mightier than the sword. we'll see.

parlez-vous français?

i don't. not a lick. i had to look up how to spell the above correctly.
the reason i ask is because i received my copy of Nouveux Delits today, where four of my poems translated by Eric Dejaeger appear. they appear in English, with the French translation alongside. and, they are gorgeous. it's amazing how something as simple as a translation into French can make your poetry look good.

the poems in this issue are:
penis boy
A Wonder
a clear sign i have become my father
another clear sign i have become my father

i can't understand anything else about the issue. it's all Greek to me. actually, make that French. i know, i know. that was a really bad pun. sorry.

2 acceptances, a new book, a french mistake and a small press review

lots of new stuff to kick off the new year. seems 2006 is starting off just right.

first, i received news from Bill Roberts of Bottle of Smoke Press that he will be starting a new project soon: specifically a set of coasters with poems letterpressed on them. the poems are about drinking. he accepted a new poem i wrote specifically for the project. the project is invitiation only, and i'm flattered to be included. of course, i'll inform when the project is completed.

second, i received word from Linda Wandt, the new editor of Spent Meat, that my poem the second coming will be used for the new issue. Spent Meat is coming back online after an extended hiatus. RC Edrington was the editor, but those duties are now Linda's. i was asked by RC to submit, and again i was flattered. RC and i also made amends. it's a long story, but suffice it to say things are now cool. i'll let you know when the new issue is up. looks like February some time.

next, i received the latest, and recently sold out, Bottle of Smoke Press publication, sometimes city undercovers, a book dedicated to d.a. levy and the recent levyfest in Cleveland. good stuff. it even includes a 5-poem mini-chapbook of levy's poetry.

yesterday, i received the latest issue of The Small Press Review. this magazine publishes only reviews, and is a great source for magazines, journals and books. unfortunately, this issue included a bad review of my buddy Karl Koweski's chapbook Can't Kill a Man Born to Hang, published by the ubiquitous Bottle of Smoke Press. i feel Karl is one of the best small press poets, and that the review is off base. his poetry is subtle, and deep and his humor is razor sharp. good stuff.

lastly, i received word today from Eric Dejaeger in Belgium that the poems he translated into French have already appeared in one magazine, Liqueur 44, and will appear in two others shortly, his own Microbe and Nouveaux Delits. i can't wait to see them.
i also found out that Eric has agreed to translate a bunch of Glenn W. Cooper's poems into French. this is great news. i'm a firm believer that the more people to read Glenn's poetry the better off the world will be.
incidentally, this is not the "french mistake" referenced in the title above. that designation is reserved for the publication of my own poems. anyway, congrats, Glenn.

maybe 2006 will be better than 2005.

Happy New Year

later tonight i will be so blitzed on beer, tequila, wine and champagne that i will probably be unable to function, let alone post on this blog, for a few days. therefore, i am posting now (before everything begins) and wishing everyone a happy new year!

as i said before, May 2006 be everything 2005 wasn't.

be safe, guys. there are always a lot of psychos and drunks and lunatics out on this night. if you happen to be one of these people, please leave everyone else alone and wallow in your lunacy alone!

indirect rejection?

i received a copy of a journal out of Utah State University called isotope. it bills itself as "A Journal of Literary Nature and Science Writing". i figured why not, since i fancy myself a writer and am a scientist, and often merge the two.

a few days after my submission, i received an email that said:

Thank you for your submission to Isotope! I'm writing in case you don’t know about the contest we are holding during our current reading period (Aug 1-Nov 15). You can find contest guidelines on our website (http://isotope.usu.edu/). You do not need to enter the contest in order for us to consider your work for publication, but there is prize money as well as publication for the winners and all contest entries will be considered for publication. After reading the contest guidelines, if you'd like to enter your submitted work in the contest, you can send along the entry fee (which also gets you a discounted subscription to Isotope) and a cover sheet, otherwise we will process your work as a regular submission.

Thank you for your interest in Isotope!

after reading this, i thought they really liked what i submitted and were being kind enough to let me know of the contest. dumbass me, i sent them the $15. i hadn't heard a thing until today. i received a copy of isotope. i'm not sure if it's the contest issue or not. probably not since there's no mention of it in the pages, but i still haven't heard a thing about my submission. am i to assume this issue is a rejection? or is it just part of my discounted subscription? i never heard about what the discout on the subscription was, nor did i send any extra monies.
i am assuming that this issue is a subtle rejection: sorry, mr. barrett, but your poetry isn't good enough to grace our pages. nor is it good enough to even warrant a real rejection. instead, here is a copy of our journal. peruse it. study it. learn.

the journal features mostly fiction and essays, but there are quite a few poems. most are horrible. truly horrible. a few were good, and one was just amazing. but, my stuff definitely isn't in the genre and style that they like. my poetry is a little too unlyrical and is far too narrative in nature.

anyway, i'm hoping this wasn't meant as a rejection. if so, that's horrible.

new issue of Nerve Cowboy...& Merry Xmas

today, as a nice, early Xmas present, arrived my contributor and subscriber copies of the new Nerve Cowboy (#20, Fall 2005). two of my poems, the ultimate irony of the recently sobered & the geometry of a relationship on the rocks, are featured in this issue. Nerve Cowboy, once again, released an amazing issue. it is the best small press journal of literature out there. since i have two copies, if you're interested in seeing what Nerve Cowboy offers, let me know and i'll send you my extra copy. i'm pretty certain you'll love it and will wind up becoming a subscriber. it's THAT good.
other poets featured in this issue include: Gerald Locklin, Karl Koweski, Kathleen Paul-Flanagan, christopher cunninngham, A.D. Winans and Michael Kriesel.

well, tomorrow is Xmas. unfortunately, and oddly, we've been hit with some kind of freakish warm spell. it's like 50 degrees (Fahrenheit) outside today. no snow, except on the mountains, and plenty of sunshine. it's actually quite nice.

anyway, Merry Xmas folks. i hope you have a beautiful end of the year, and i hope 2006 is everything 2005 wasn't.
for all of us.

RIP

seems i'm not writing on here much anymore. or, at least not as often. seems i'm not writing much of anything anymore. hopefully, that will change. it's just work is a bitch right now. balls to the wall busy. 10 hour days. plus, it's the dead of winter (Happy Winter Solstice!!) and i'm driving to work in the dark and driving home in the dark. never a good thing.

yesterday i received the final issue of Chiron Review (#81). it is an all gay and lesbian literature issue. CR will be greatly missed in the small press world. a rarity, too, being printed on newsprint in a full-size format. i'm proud as hell to have been in a few previous issues of CR, and wish Hathaway (the editor) the best.

i doubt i'll post before xmas, so Merry Xmas to all of you who celebrate it. Happy Chanuka to those who celebrate that. to everyone else...Season's Greetings, i guess.

the poem that started it all for me

when i was in high school, i was not a writer. i was shy, very tall, very skinny and very unpopular. things were compounded when we moved in the midst of my senior year. things turned out well, obviously (especially considering this is where i met my future wife) but it was not an easy go of it to be sure.
anyway, the teacher i was assigned to for English class--one Mrs. Anusavice--was a great teacher. she had this voice that was at once motherly and strong. her diction was clear and her enunciation was immaculate. she was also a lover of poetry, both classic and contemporary. we read a great deal of poetry--from Shakespeare to Byron to Yeats to Strand. and most of it was good.
the best, though, was the day she read the following poem by William J. Harris:

HEY FELLA WOULD YOU MIND HOLDING THIS PIANO A MOMENT

As you are walking
down the street
this guy asks you
to hold his violin.
It’s a Stradivarius.
Soon as it falls
into your hands you start playing like crazy.
The violin
almost plays itself.
Your powerful hands
nearly break the instrument
but the music is gentle and sweet.
You sweep your long artistic hair
out of your face.
Everybody
in the room,
in the bull ring, in the
audience, in the coliseum
starts clapping and shouting “Encore & Wow.”
Everybody whoever thought
that you were
dumb & untalented
goes apeshit
over your hidden genius.
“Gee, I never knew you
played,” says your astonished high school
principal.

William J. Harris

From Hey Fella Would You Mind Holding This Piano A Moment © 1974, William J. Harris

i love this poem. i loved it then, and love it even more now. the absurdity of it all. the flow. everything.
back then, i got a kick out of Mrs. Anusavice saying the word "apeshit" (and, i admit, still giggle a little when i hear now). but now, i love the fact that it is so simple and so irrationally absurd.

well, that poem did it for me. it opened my eyes to what poetry could really be. it showed me that poetry wasn't all meter and rhyme; that it was considerably more than iambic pentameter or villanelles or sonnets; that it could be funny and absurd and plain-spoken. this hit me hard and definitely inspired me to try my hand at laying down the line.

needless to say, i'm glad Mrs. Anusavice read this poem to our class back in '90. i'm glad Mr. Harris wrote back in '74. for without either, i doubt i ever would've found poetry.

i'm sure, though, that there are plenty out there who are silently cursing both Mrs. Anusavice and Mr. Harris for their parts in aiding that discovery.

the rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated (though close)

wrote my first poem in a month? two months? hell, i can't remember how long it's been. and quickly on the heels of that first one, a second one spilled out. it felt good.
i don't think "it" is totally back -- this is going to be a series of fits and starts before i'm back to cruising the poetry highway -- but it's good to know it didn't completely leave me. i've always been afraid that one day it will up and leave me. still might. glad to know that it hasn't happened yet.
i might not be back, but ya'll best watch out. i'll be back in the game before you know it; swinging for the fences; running back punts; pushing the fast break.

workshops revealed

Brian McGettrick (aka bmcg on this blog) sent me a link to an article by Sam Sacks. this article, ostensibly a review of an anthology (Best New American Voices 2006) is really a look at workshops and what they are doing to American literature.
i've never liked the idea of workshops. like Mr. Sacks says, they only dilute the talent pool. they bring down those who are talented (and therefore don't need a workshop) and bring those who are untalented up just enough to not discourage them from writing. he even touches on the publishing trade, and how little it means to be published.
granted, the article is about fiction (short stories, mainly), but i think the sentiment can be applied just as well to poetry. there ARE poetry workshops, and the same drivel Mr. Sacks mentions is being released from these places.
the key sentence in the whole article is: "As for grammar and mechanics, the only aspects of writing actually governed by rules, they are considered beneath the contempt of creative minds and are omitted from study." i find grammar and mechanics woefully lacking in most contemporary literature, and it's even worse in poetry. for some reason people just can't seem to be bothered with learning the proper way to say things. and don't even get me started on spelling.
i also think the fact that poems are shorter, and words in a poem are at even more of a premium, any grammatical or mechanical error is magnified.
these things matter, folks. punctuation matters. spelling matters. grammar matters. it's all part of communicating effectively. it's hard enough getting people to read poems, there's no sense in putting them off even more with hard-to-read, grammatically incorrect, mechanically cumbersome pieces.
that's my $0.02.

good news

chris kornacki (aka chris k. on this blog) informed me (see the comments on the previous post) that trespass magazine updated their website with information about the new issue (#2) and used my poem Midnight Trains as a teaser. that's great news. thanks for passing it along, chris!
and this afternoon, i received my two contributor's copies. another poem, the emptiness of a moonless night, kicks off this issue. trespass is a beautiful magazine that will only get better with time. i'm convinced of it.
other poets in this issue include Glenn W. Cooper, Owen Roberts, john sweet, J.J. Campbell and Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal.
if you're interested in trying to get into the next issue of trespass, they are open for submissions until January 15. i know i will shoot some their way. maybe the ones that were rejected from Poultry Broadside. then again, maybe not. after all, they were only "almost there, but not quite."

insult to injury

in the last post i talked about how my writing has trickled to a near stop. and those few poems that i am able to squeeze out aren't worth much (in my opinion). well, today i received some confirmation of that. i sent three of my recent poems to Poultry Broadside, also mentioned in the last post, and received a reply today that all were rejected. the editor said that they were "almost there, but not quite".
that's the story of my life: almost there, but not quite.
whether i'm trying to write poetry, successfully do my job, pleasure my wife or appear suave, the end result is always the same. almost there, but not quite.
oh well. he did say i could try him again in a few months. but, i'm not sure what makes him think i'll be fully there in a few months.

update on our house

as you may (or may not) be aware, we are currently living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment as a new house we purchased is being built. however, that new house was to have begun back in September but has been indefinitely delayed since. if it was begun on time, it would've been finished sometime around the end of February or the beginning of March. now, who knows.
we just heard word that our house is supposed to begin sometime within the next 45 days. if we go by this, and assume the worst (45 days), that would put the ground breaking at the end of January. six months for construction (at the minimum. more if we have a bad winter), and that puts the finish of our house at the end of July. that's five extra months living in this hellhole. christ!

i suppose it always can be worse.
ignore my complaints. at least the wife and i have our health, and a roof over our heads (which is no small thing when it's ten degree Fahrenheit outside with a skiff of icy snow on the ground).

the only thing about this whole situation, though, as it relates to my poetry, is that i don't feel at all like writing. ever since moving into this miniscule, infernal place, i've felt like all my energy is spent in trying not to get in my wife's way (or in finding a way to get her out of mine) that writing has become secondary or tertiary to that. i've written a few new poems, but nothing worth a damn. my output has dramatically decreased, my apathy about it has increased and the quality of my writing has plummeted. this happens, though. when i get more comfortable, with all my books and typewriters and other accoutrements out of storage; when i can set up my little writing space; when we finally move out of this little place, then it'll all come back.
i hope.

winter is here

it snowed today. big, fat flakes. i work on the benches of the Wasatch Mountains, and it is a good 10 degrees cooler up there than down in the valley (where we live). it was raining down in the valley (until later tonight when it turned to snow), but it was cold enough to snow up where i work. gorgeous. i love snow. i hate driving in it (especially here in Utah where morons in their huge trucks and SUVs think just because they have 4-wheel drive they can drive like maniacs), but i sure do love watching it fall.

today i received a copy of Poultry Broadside #4 from J.J. Campbell. he has two poems in this issue. John Dorsey and Corey Mesler are also featured in this issue. Poultry Broadside is a quarter-sized folded pamphlet published by Gunch Press. check it out.

today

was one of those crisp late autumn days we get out west here; where the temperature hovers right around freezing, the sky is blanketed by high-altitude clouds from a recent cold front, snow dots the ground here and there and the air is so clear you can see forever. it's beautiful. very little wind, the nip in the air just enough for a coat and scarf. maybe a beanie to cover your ears.
it almost makes driving to and from work bearable.

it's been awhile since i've posted anything of value. this is because i was on vacation. the first in a long time. well over a year. it was two weeks long, but still much too short. however, we got to see our two nephews (2 1/2 years old and almost 1 years old) for the entire time. i wished we lived closer to them so i could watch them grow. alas.

i hate traveling. to be more specific, i hate flying. i don't do well in an airplane. this trip, however, was not so bad. our connections were on time, we have minimal layovers. the landing in Atlanta on the way to Florida (our only layover for that particular trip) was scary, though. the pilot came in way too fast and we bounced once, then shimmied. i'm sure it didn't look like much from the ground, but i was certain a wing was going to clip the ground and we would burn to our deaths in a mighty fireball. i'm happy to say that this particular hell did not occur. obviously. the flights back were uneventful and even a little fun (once the plane gets to cruising altitude, i'm fine; it's the takeoffs and landings that kill me).

so, what's new in the world of poetry, as it relates to me? well, while i was away i received my copies of Bathtub Gin #17, where my poem the business trip appears. Bathtub Gin is a great literary journal that is not easy to crack, so i'm proud of this one.
also in my mailbox was a copy of remark. #39. Kat did another great job on this one. it's an autumn-themed issue. job well done, Kat.

that's about it. nothing else new. it's been slow, i suppose. unfortunately, there were no new acceptances of any of my poems, but, on the other hand, there were no rejections, either. no news is good news, i guess.

back

i am back from my two week vacation. we have yet to decompress from the whirlwind it was. i will post more later. suffice it to say, like all vacations it was too short.

a fortnight's rest

we fly out tomorrow morning for our two week vacation to Florida. we'll visit family, participate in the typical Thanksgiving festivities (turkey, stuffing, football, arguments, etc.).
however, as i said earlier, i probably won't be able to access my email, nor post on this blog while there. i might, but i doubt it. so, if this place is as barren as the space between George W. Bush's ears, then you'll know why. and, if i don't return any of your emails (assuming any of you will email me) this will be the reason.

for all of you (in America) who celebrate Thanksgiving, i hope you have a fun, turkey-filled, football-filled holiday. for all of you who do not, then i hope the next two weeks are, at worst, average.

sick as a dog

i came down with something last night. a head cold (dripping, sore throat, etc.). i don't do well as a sick person. i revert to a three year old. my wife hates it, but being the wonderful trooper she is, she takes care of me. i hope i can fight this off before our vacation (which i'm sure i can) and i hope i don't give it to her, because she'll almost definitely have it during then. flying with a head cold is never fun, either.
anyway, i think i'm gonna go lie back down on the couch and whine a little more. maybe mumble some melancholy sounds. and dose up on some over-the-counter cold remedies. medicine head, here i come!

the holidays, and some poetry stuff

we'll be leaving on Tuesday the 15th to fly to Florida to visit family for two weeks for the Thanksgiving holiday. in the six years we've lived in Salt Lake (coincidentally, today is our 6 year anniversary of arriving in SLC), we've not had a holiday with family. so, this will be a nice vacation. plus, we'll get to see my sister's two young children. therefore, i'll probably not get to update this blog during those two weeks, though i will try. we'll see. my parents don't have a computer at their place, so email and such will be lagging.

today i received Issue #38 of remark. Kat did a great job with it. i thought that i would miss being the editor of remark. after i quit and handed the reins over to Kat, but not so much. it's nice to have the extra free time to myself. and with some of the shit Kat has had to deal with concerning primadonna, arrogant, ungrateful poets; i definitely don't miss dealing with that. thanks, Kat, for taking over the editorship of the magazine.

lastly, i received from christopher cunningham a signed copy of his new book, Thru the Heart of This Animal Life A Measure of Impossible Humor, published by Nerve Cowboy. i've said this before on this blog, but i'll say it again right now: christopher cunningham is the greatest living poet in America. it's a bold statement, but one i firmly believe. the dude sweats poetry.

already?

is it really November already? the second week of it, no less? jesus.
it's no revelation that time flies, but here's my theory on that. one day for a one-day old is 100% of that person's life. so, it seems like a lifetime for a one-day old to wait another day. a day for a two-day old, therefore, feels half as long. using this logic, someone at the age of 30 feels one day as roughly 1/11,000th of their life, or 0.009% of their life. nothing. a mere blink of the eye. and someone 60 years old feels a day as even half as long. so, using this rock-solid logic, this is why every year seems to accelerate by at ever increasing speed. obviously the year doesn't actually go by any faster, it's our perception of that year that is changing.
not that this has anything to do with anything. i'm just lamenting the fact that it's already November, the radio stations are already playing xmas music, and i'll be dead before i know it.

the knuckle

i got my subscriber's copy of Naked Knuckle today. if you don't know, NK is a rather new (only on issue #5) poetry journal out of Modesto, CA that says it contains "poetry that'll bust your mind's eye wide open". it's a beautiful, small-format magazine filled with some of the best poetry around. this issue included the ubiquitous Karl Koweski, Christopher Cunningham, Charles Rammelkamp and Raymond Mason, among others. i've had a few poems in previous issues, too. anyway, it's nice to know that there are still journals out there like Naked Knuckle. plus, this issue has a creepy drawing on the cover that looks like Iggy Pop with a broken nose and a droopy right eye. it's weird. if you're interested in checking it out, or submitting, drop me an email and i'll give you the info.