bad moon rising

here's a photo i just took of the full moon rising over Lone Peak. i couldn't quite get it to look exactly like it did, but the ones i took with the film camera are probably much better. it was less blindingly white, as this photo shows it, and more pale yellowish-blue, with wisps of cirrus clouds streaking across it; and the faintest hint of the mountain illuminated below it.

simply gorgeous.

the ankle, and a nice email

well, it turns out the wife doesn't need surgery; a small bit of good news after a lot of bad.
she had the ankle set and casted yesterday, and will remain in a cast for the next 6 weeks. she's in a considerable amount of pain, but that too will pass soon enough. before you know it, she'll be hobbling around, then the cast will be off and she'll back up on those rocks.
we got lucky, too, in that no hematoma developed as a result of being on Coumadin. bleeding to death isn't really a concern in something like this, but hematomas aren't uncommon from soft tissue trauma. however, the swelling and bruising she experienced was normal.
and not needing surgery means she can remain on Coumadin, which is good because she'll be idle for some time, which is a risk factor for developing further blood clots.
anyway, all in all she's doing well. she fell off the horse (and hurt herself) but she's climbing back in the saddle again.

i received a very nice email today from Rachel Bunting letting me know that my poem where have you gone, Jack Kevorkian? appears as a poem of the week on Kendall A. Bell's website and that she liked the poem very much. i don't recall submitting to him (though it IS entirely possible that i did), so he probably found it on my website (or another). i'm honored to have the poem as poem of the week, and gladder still that it touched someone enough for them to email me. thank you Kendall and Rachel for your support and kind words.

well, damn

and in the continuing saga of the .barrett household, my wife broke her ankle earlier this morning while rock climbing.
for Valentine's Day i purchased a year's membership to a new indoor rock climbing gym (the largest in the west...or at least it will be when construction is finished in April). it was something she always wanted to do, and i didn't (fear of heights and all).
anyway, i decided it might be fun to try the damn thing. since the gym isn't fully completed, yet, only the bouldering section is open. we've gone a few times and really enjoy it: it's a good workout, requires some mental flexibility to figure out the best route, and is something we both can enjoy.
to continue making a short story less short, my wife was tackling a difficult route, one she'd tried days before without success. it was a hard one, at least for us newbies.
she got to the hardest part of the route and lost her grip, falling to the padded floor. it was only a 6 foot or so drop, and onto a good 2 feet of padding, but she landed awkwardly with her leg underneath her. we thought it was merely a bad sprain (i've had a few in my life, and they can be quite painful). we called our insurance ompany's nurseline, being unable to get through to our doctors, and since Julee is on Coumadin they recommended her getting the ankle checked out, just to be sure.
luckily we did, as she fractured her fibula. it's nothing severe, as fractured fibulas aren't uncommon; however, we're worried about the Coumadin and what effect it might have on the swelling, bruising and internal bleeding. she may need surgery to put a pin in the bone, but we won't know until later this week, when she can get an appointment to see an orthopaedic surgeon.

needless to say, it's certainly not something we need right now.

UPDATE: 25 Feb 07, 10:20 AM: it appears the swelling and bruising haven't gotten any worse and aren't abnormal for such trauma. this is obviously good news as it means the blood isn't pooling unusually. the risk for hematomas is definitely real when experiencing trauma while on Coumadin.

morning commutes suck.....but

at least, if things work out just right, and i get out of bed in time and eat breakfast fast enough and don't dawdle too long with getting everything ready, i get to see a gorgeous mountain sunrise like this every so often. the thing is these pictures don't even do the real thing justice. it was absolutely stunning.

almost makes the snowstorm that hit later that night worth it. ALMOST!

updates

my wife got both her legs ultrasounded (is that the past tense of the verb ultrasound? it sounds weird). anyway, she got them done and there are no clots in her legs. there shouldn't have been, but the ultrasound was performed just to be 100% certain. so, it looks like this weekend will be when we take her off the blood-thinners. i'd be a liar if i said i wasn't nervous about this whole thing. most likely, though, she'll end up back on them for life. if you're gonna roll the dice, you might as well stack the odds in your favor as much as you can.

on the poetry front, Brian McGettrick has accepted two of my poems (to not think of an elephant and Perspective from the 10,000 Foot View) for his guest-edited issue of remark. (which is due out sometime this spring or summer). i also will have a poem in C. Allen Rearick's guest-edited issue (a tangle of arms and hair), due out very soon, and will have two more poems (Sins of the Father and why i wish we never met) in a later, regularly edited issue sometime later this year.
also, i received word that one of the 18 poems i wrote for my wife about her ordeal, and our attempts at dealing with it, has been accepted by David Greenspan of Butcher Shop Press.
David wrote a diatribe lamenting the current state of poetry, and soliciting for poems that we "beautiful". i sent him a few of the poems about our recent issues, and told him that though "there might not be the beauty of a fucking daffodil in a field...or a goddamn sunset behind the smog of a forest fire...but i'll be damned if there isn't beauty in escaping death and coming out on the other side..."
he apparently agreed. the poem First Night Home was accepted and will appear in that issue.

other than this, there's nothing much else to report. the Guerilla Poetics Project is still going strong, with many new operative and 64 registered finds.

the verdict

well, the wife got her angiogram read by the pulmonologist.
everything is fully resolved!

however, she will remain on Coumadin for another 2 weeks (to make the treatment a full 6 months), just to be safe, then she'll have ultrasounds performed on her legs (to ensure that no clots are hanging out there, either) and if everything is clean we have a decision to make:
the doctor said she can either remain on Coumadin for life (which brings with it a 1% chance of bleeding to death) or she stop taking it (which brings about a 5% of a second clotting event). those percentages are pretty much even, so we really don't know what to do. the doctor, even, couldn't tell us. he said her case is unique in that she had no risk factors, and she was so young, so they'll have to play it by ear.

i think we're going to experiment with taking her off of Coumadin for a few weeks, get some genetic testing done to rule out those rare but serious disorders, then see how it goes.
i suppose the really good news about all of this is that the treatment worked and those massive clots in her lungs (she saw both angiograms -- the first one from 6 months ago and the one from yesterday -- and she said it was shocking how large the clots in her lungs were) are gone.

tapping veins

my wife got her angiogram this morning. they were finally able to tap one of her veins, and thusly inject her with the radiocontrast dye. she said it was a horrible feeling as the dye causes an instantaneous release of adrenaline, which causes the heart to race and the fight-or-flight response to kick in...but, just then, they stick you in a big tube and tell you lie still. paranoia and claustrophobia start to creep in (even if you aren't normally claustrophobic), and it gets really creepy.
also, the dye causes the blood vessels to warm up, and it's particularly noticeable around the urethra, so a few seconds after the injection you are convinced you just pissed yourself on the table.

BUT, the good thing is that the test is over. the films will be read by the pulmonologist this afternoon and we'll know what the next course of treatment is (be it continued blood-thinning therapy or not).

i'll update soon with what the pulmonologist finds.

on the poetry front, Guerilla Poetics Project found broadside #62 was just registered. we're averaging a find/register every three days. phenomenal!

an update on the wife, and a little poetics

well, we've been having a bitch of time getting the wife the xray for her chest (actually, an CT angiogram, to be precise). Monday, we went in and it turns out we were supposed to have an appointment, yet were never told to set one up. so, we drove all the way to the hospital for nothing. fine, whatever. the doctor's appointment (to have the angiogram read) was also that day, so that had to be rescheduled. we set up a an appointment for the angiogram for yesterday (Friday) and the doctor's appointment for the reading for next Monday. yesterday, we go in and the nurses (3 different ones) were unable to tap a vein in Julee's arm. she has 5 pricks on each elbow pit and one on the underside of her right forearm. and, since she's on bloodthinners, they are bruised like she's some kind of heroin addict. she had to stop because it was hurting her so much. so, no dice on the angiogram once again.
she set up another appointment for Monday morning, then that afternoon (assuming all goes well) she will have the damn things read and we'll know where we stand. her veins are deep and she's always had a hard time when she tried to give blood, but this was ridiculous. anyway, we're hoping Monday will be different.

i just found out from Eric Dejaeger that he has uploaded my poem six pack and his translation of it here. i still haven't received my copies of the book Eric released. i'm afraid they have been lost in the mail.

down goes frazier...

well, just received a letter yesterday from Greg Edwards, editor of Naked Knuckle, informing me that he has decided to call it quits. this sucks. Naked Knuckle quickly became a favorite of mine, and was consistently full of great poetry. the design, too, was original and quirky. anyway, RIP Naked Knuckle. another will come in to fill the void, no doubt, i just hope it's as good as NK.

on a personal note, my dual-language (English-French) chapbook, the uncertainty principle, was published by Eric Dejaeger's Microbe Editions. unfortunately, they are not for sale as all copies were given to the subscribers to Microbe. fortunately, i receive 20 copies to do with what i please. unfortunately, i neglected to give Eric my new address and they have now been lost in transit. regardless, i'm proud of this book and want to thank Eric for translating my poems and finding them keen enough to collect into a book.

lastly, this Friday my wife, Julee, will get her 6 month lung xray to make sure the clot has fully resolved. if so, she will be taken off Coumadin (gulp!) and we'll start the next phase of our lives. obviously, the clot being gone is a good thing, a very good thing, but being removed from Coumadin scares me as there is always the possibility another clot could form. she go through an extensive round of genetic testing in a few weeks to check out all the known culprits, and if she's clean...it's pretty much a wait and see thing. if she does happen to have one of these extremely rare disorders (please, no!), then she'll be put back on Coumadin for life. anyway, i'll post the results, in case you're interested.

GO GATORS!

and with the most dominating performance in a BCS bowl game EVER, the Florida Football Gators are the #1 team in the nation.

that's football AND basketball, folks. first time in the history of the NCAA that the same team has held the championship in both sports.

surrender, give us your women, we are coming to repeat in both!

GO GATORS!

good news for j.b!

snuck in here while j.b was in the toilet.

check this out: sanity returning?

big poetry update

the past two days i received:

* the newest issue of Nerve Cowboy (#22) in which my poem Letter to Glenn appears. other poets appearing in this issue included: David J. Thompson, Christopher Cunningham, Gerald Locklin, Michael Kriesel, Robert L. Penick, Michael Estabrook and Nathan Graziano.

* the first three issues of Adrian Manning's Concrete Meat Sheet -- a single sheet broadside journal of poetry. i will have a poem featured in issue #4. check out Concrete Meat Press for more information.

* the latest Guerilla Poetics Project broadside mailing. the package included 10 copies of broadsides #9 and #10 (by David Barker and William Taylor, Jr., respectively) which will soon be placed into undisclosed books at an undisclosed bookstore somewhere in the Salt Lake Valley.

new year college football-arama

lots of games.

there's nothing better than just lying on this couch, the laptop on, the tv switching between the many games, and doing nothing but relaxing.

gotta love it.

hope you all had a safe and happy new year's celebration.

a continuation of my assault on religion...(UPDATED)

are we really supposed to believe this book? and use it as a guide for morality? and worse, use it as a guide for a laws in a civilized society?

the bible was written by a multitude of fearful, faulty men and does NOT contain the immutable word of god. we might as well be using The Collected Works of Shakespeare as our basis for morality. we'd probably be better off if we did. plus, we'd know the contents inside were in fact the immutable word of the bard.

UPDATE:

Here are more sites to enjoy during the extended New Year weekend:
Why Won't God Heal Amputees?
The Creation Fallacy
Evil Bible
The Secular Outpost Blog
The Secular Web
American Atheists

HAPPY NEW YEARS!

a little New Years anti-religious discussion

since i posted an article about atheism from Sam Harris before Christmas, i will do the same before New Years. here is an article just published in Newsweek & The Washington Post.

also, the catering to the religious is getting ridiculous. especially when this is the outcome. this is outrageous and should not be accepted by anyone. we must cater to a small minority of biblical literalists (who believe the earth is 6000 years old!!) so we don't hurt their delicate feelings. are you fucking kidding me? the earth IS billions of years old (just over 4 to be exact). the universe is over 3 times older than that. i cannot believe that we must suspend science, knowledge, logic and rational thought so a few halfwit creationists don't get offended. what is wrong with this country?

enjoy!

oh, and Happy New Year!

the faux moral high ground (UPDATED)

today, we're going to learn about civility, folks.

there is an odd quality in some folks where they feel they can say or do anything and not deal with the repercussions. and some even get indignant at the fact that anyone else retaliates or gets angry at what they do.

let me posit an example:
say someone (we'll call him Steve) spits in another person's face (we'll call him Mark). Mark did nothing to provoke something as insulting as being spat in the face, yet Steve goes ahead and does it. Mark, as a result, gets angry and calls Steve a name (or spits back in his face, or clocks him one). Steve suddenly gets angry at Mark for reacting; for defending himself. Steve is aghast that Mark would even be upset at being spat at.
someone like Steve would say, "i'm sorry you're angry that i spat in your face." NOT "i'm sorry i spat in your face." the difference is huge. and it's telling of Steve's maturity level. in the first instance there is no real apology, merely more insults and aggression.

Steve has no right taking the moral high ground in this situation. yet, i've seen it happen a lot: at work, i've seen it happen amongst "alleged" friends, i've even had it happen to me (and recently). most of the people in this world understand we live in a civilized society, and are not Steves; but there are still enough Steves out there to make our lives miserable. we need fewer Steves and more Marks.
dissent is fine. argument is fine. but, when ad hominem and epithets start flying, it can get ugly; yet when the one who starts the ugliness suddenly becomes indignant that the other responds in kind we have chaos.

"you're stupid."
"well, you're ugly."
"why are you calling me ugly?"
"because you called me stupid."
"i can't believe you got mad at that."
"then apologize to me."
"i'm sorry you got mad that i called you stupid."
"that's not an apology."

i'm sure you've had experiences with Steves before, too.
all we can do is call them on their arrogance and rudeness, then cut all ties. life is far too short to deal with juvenile adults. it's hard enough dealing with mature adults.


UPDATE: in the above example, let's say Steve and Mark are carpenters and Steve, before the argument and subsequent spitting, told Mark that he respects Mark's abilities as a carpenter (and it was genuine). then, suppose, after Steve spat in Mark's face he goes back to his previous comment of "respecting" Mark, further driving Steve's indignation that Mark is upset at Steve. after all, he respects Mark.

well, i for one would hate to see how Steve would've treated Mark had he NOT respected him so.

i add this update because this is an important part of the faux moral high ground. a compliment will be paid just before, or during, an insulting or derogatory action to "lessen the blow", or to set up the oncoming indignation.

aren't people just the best?

new broadsides

in today's mail, i received a package of the two latest broadsides for The Guerilla Poetics Project:

GPP007 -- My Daughter's Eyes by Nathan Graziano
&
GPP008 -- work ethic by Brian McGettrick

i'll be hiding these around the greater Salt Lake area in the next few days. with one find already logged from Utah, my passions for this project have been renewed and i hope for more finds to be logged from here, soon.

& Happy New Years, folks! be safe and have fun.

some answers this Christmas Eve

as some (or all) of you may or may not know, the wife and i are atheists. we still celebrate xmas in the same way the vast majority of the country does. we don't feel this is hypocritical as xmas is no longer a christian holiday (or, at least, an exclusively christian holiday) and is more about celebrating the previous year (as well as getting a day or two off of work). also, if jesus was a real man (something that has yet to be proven) he wasn't born in December, but in sometime in the spring. a pagan winter celebration was expropriated by the christians.

anyway, i've been reading some fine "atheist" books lately (The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins, and Letter to a Christian Nation by Sam Harris). they are tremendous books that should be read by all (atheist, religious, agnostic alike). the philosophies and arguments contained inside can help make this world a better place THROUGH the elimination of religion, not by expanding it. let's put it this way, religion has had thousands of years to eliminate pain, suffering, hatred and unnecessary death; yet it has done nothing more than increase the instances of each, in some cases unforgiveably so. the authors rationally and logically posit a case where atheism is better for a society. i agree.

so, for this xmas, here is a great little article on the 10 myths (and truths) about atheism by Sam Harris. enjoy.

Merry Christmas to everyone (in the secular way, that is, meaning a healthy, peaceful, happy and safe weekend!) and i hope everyone has a Happy New Year.
the wife and i are ready to wad up 2006, douse it in gasoline and set it ablaze. we are hoping 2007 is considerably better.

let us pray... :)

first ad

the very first ad for The Guerilla Poetics Project appears in the current issue of The Small Press Review. the ad will appear in the next few issues and we hope it scares up some new members. look for ads in a few other places soon.

literary update

G. Emil Reutter published a short review of my Bottle of Smoke Press book, The 25 Best-Loved Poems of the Future, in his blog. Mr. Reutter also relayed a story to me about one of the poems in the book, penis boy. he said he was at a reading recently and it was full of those bored, distracted poetry types when he got up and read penis boy to the group. the people stopped and at the end the crowd erupted in laughter and applause. what a great thing to hear.
as G. Emil said in his email, it is not important enough to just turn a clever phrase and crystalize a beautiful image. one must also relate to the readers, and this is what i (and a whole host of others out there) aim to do in our poetry. it's always a fine thing to hear that you have been successful, at least once!

and THIS is what the Guerilla Poetics Project is all about: bringing poetry back to the people by connecting with them in a way they aren't used to.

thanks for the kind words and review, G!

the funniest man in the world

we had the pleasure of seeing Brian Regan live last night. if you are not familiar with Mr. Regan's comedy, you are in for a treat. I recommend purchasing his CD and DVD. you will NOT be disappointed. and, if you ever get the chance to see him live, DO IT! the show was sold out, at a University of Utah auditorium, and we were in the very first row. it was a fabulous night. he put on a great show. so great, in fact, that one of the security guys, his back to the stage, was laughing throughout the entire show.

some housecleaning

my father-in-law and step-mother-in-law are in town until Thursday. we haven't seen them in over a year (when we flew back to Florida last year). this is their first time out here in Utah in the 7 years we've lived here. we'll have a good time taking them around to see the sights, to point and stare at polygamists, to goof on all the crazy, rural Utahns.

and most importantly, my Florida Football Gators won the SEC Championship, are 12-1 overall while playing the most difficult schedule in college football. They earned the right to play Ohio State University for the National Championship in January; to which we have scored some tickets.
Go Gators!

no poetry updates to speak of, other than the fact that 21 broadsides have been found and registered in the Guerilla Poetics Project. this movement is gathering steam.

guerilla poetics

broadside #17 has been found and registered.

we are averaging a find every 5 days. there have been, however, 4 in the past 3 days. the movement is gaining momentum, the project is gaining credibility. we have over 90 operatives in 3 continents, and we're about to take over the world.

if you haven't joined us yet, you should do so NOW!

it's beginning to look a lot like...

we had the first real snow of the season the other night. you know, there's still something so magical about waking up to a couple of inches of pristine snow. the sledding is nice, and snowshoeing is a wonderful wintertime activity, but unless you're an avid skier, the snow really isn't all that much fun: you have to shovel it from your walkway, the temperatures are brutal, and (at least here in Utah) the salt they use on the highway to melt the ice is hell on your car.
here's a picture from outside our house:


but the worst is the driving. it's amazing to me how people seem to FORGET how to drive in the snow every year. they live here. they've been through it before. it's not like we are suddenly a bunch of Louisianians who've never seen snow. how can they forget how to drive.
yesterday, we had over 60 accidents on the roads. it took me one and a half hours to get to work, where it normally takes me less than 45 minutes. it's ridiculous. some people slow down to the point of inanity, while others fly by at speeds so unsafe it's almost funny. and the worst are the morons driving 4X4s. they think they are immune to the laws of friction.
just because your vehicle gives power to all four wheels doesn't mean it won't slide on a patch of ice.

but, the snow really is beautiful. and the ski resorts are open now, so if you're into skiing you might want to make your way out to Utah for some fine powder. apparently, we have "the greatest snow on earth" (don't groan at me, i didn't coin the slogan). so much so, it's even on our license plates.

i have to get the car washed soon. it's streaked with dried salt and mud. the snowbanks along the sides of the road, where the snowplows mounded the snow, are covered in dirt and exhaust. but, it's gorgeous, clear, cold days like today that make you happy to be alive. well, maybe not the cold, but the rest of it is nice.

a movie, two broadsides and some updates

i recently saw the movie Factotum, based on Charles Bukowski's book of the same name. the young actor who played Henry Chinaski (the alter ego hero of Bukowski's writings), one Matt Dillon, did a fairly fine job. He has a bright future ahead of him in the movies i think. i wouldn't be surprised to see him more often.

one thing that confused me was Chinaski, as played by Dillon, was left-handed in the movie. lefties are always shocking to us righties (i mean, when you give someone a pen to write something down and they start writing with their left hands, you can't tell me that shocks you...it's not natural). i was unaware that Chinaski/Bukowski was a lefty. if not, then Dillon did a horrible job portraying Chinaski. if you're any kind of an actor you switch your dexterity based upon the character you're inhabiting. it's rule #1 in acting. or possibly rule #2. i'm not real sure.

one last thing about the movie is Lily Taylor and Marisa Tomei are also in it. and Ms. Tomei is nekkid, for you horndogs out there. it's a fine movie, a bit slow and without much plot (the hallmark of Bukowski novels), but worth the $6 on PPV.

the other day i received the two newest broadsides of the Guerilla Poetics Project. these are broadsides #5 and 6. i plan on going out this weekend to stick them in books around the Salt Lake Valley. i've mentioned the GPP here before, so don't make me do it again (though i will). visit the site, read the manifesto, see what it is all about. then, if you like what you read and agree with our philosophy, purpose and tactics, join us!

i received word from Eric DeJaeger in Belgium that my bilingual chapbook, the uncertainty principle, will be out soon. it will feature a bunch of my short poems in English and their French translations as interpreted by Mr. DeJaeger. i am very excited about this book and will update when it is released, which shouldn't be long.

and, lastly, i haven't spoken very much lately about Hemispherical Press as i've not really done much of late. there are 4 releases on the docket, though, and the first, Or. by David Michael McNamara, a small book of 5 poems, will be out shortly. future releases included chapbooks by Owen Roberts, C. Allen Rearick and Hosho McCreesh.

getting paid

i received my contributor's and subscriber's copies of The Stinging Fly in today's mail, along with a check for $30 as payment for the pleasure of being published.

it's not the first time i was paid for my poetry (i won a poetry contest a few years back which netted me $45 and came in second the year before for $20) but it is the first time i've been paid for a poem to be published in a non-contest issue. i think i could easily get used to this.

The Stinging Fly is out of Dublin, Ireland, and is a GORGEOUS, glossy journal filled with amazing writing (both Irish and International). it's a damned honor being published in it, and it's an indescribable feeling being paid for your work. i highly recommend it!

naked knuckle

i received my contributor's and subscriber's copies of the new Naked Knuckle yesterday. Issue #7. my poem Of An Otherwise Stark, Rural Highway kicks off the issue. other poets include Karl Koweski, David J. Thompson and Michael Estabrook.

Naked Knuckle is a great small-format journal out of Modesto, California. subscribe. submit. support.

i heard from my friend (and fellow writer) Kelly Thompson that the new The Stinging Fly is out, where my poem the perfect night is featured. i will update when i receive it.

update

i received a rejection today from The Burnside Review (my second rejection from them). it would appear i'm not quite right for them. shouldn't probably submit there anymore (mental note).

i also heard back from Adrian Manning of Concrete Meat Press that my poem "marriage as still life" will be published in a future issue of his one-sheet journal Concrete Meat (potentially issue 4). i'll update when it comes out.

other than that, not much going on. i've submitted very little in the last few months, so i shouldn't expect much in the way of rejections (or acceptances) in the near future. and, neither should you.

Number Seven

and just like that, broadside #7 of The Guerilla Poetics Project has been found. these really are like the golden tickets of Willy Wonka (or at least it feels that way in my mind):

I've got a golden ticket. I've a golden chance to make my way. And with a golden ticket, it's a golden day...

anyway, #7 was found at Moe's in Berkeley, California (the first broadside found in the US west of the mighty Mississip). the broadside was found in a copy of Ginsberg's Howl, and it just so happened to be the first broadside the GPP created, featuring my poem like fireworks. when it was registered, this is what the young woman had to say about the broadside:

I was looking at three different books about Howl and Ginsberg and so I'm not 100% I listed the right book that I found the poem in, but I think it was that one. The poem just rocks my socks, and it felt extra-magical because I found it like a little hidden treasure- like the poem was meant for whoever found it, and that was me, and I feel very lucky. Tell Justin Barrett his poem made me do a little dance in Moe's. Your project is really cool..."

what a wonderful thing to hear. THIS is precisely why the GPP exists. we are attempting to touch the very core of people's beings; those who otherwise would not have known our work.

now, join us in hiding these golden tickets so that others may be similarly touched, and may find their entry into the hidden Wonka world of poetry.

what i've been up to

it's been a while since my last update. not doing much of anything. just working, working out and working on The Guerilla Poetics Project stuff.

i've decided to whip together an update as my mother said if i didn't my "fans" would be upset. what a dear.
FANS! my mother is so funny. ya gotta love her.
the only fans i have are: myself, my dog, and my mother. and i'm not even certain about my dog.

anyway, there are a few things to update:

i received my subscription copies of Poesy, the International Issue, with a wonderful interview by my Australian buddy Glenn W. Cooper. and, he's kind enough to even mention me in it. thanks Glenn. Poesy is a great journal full of good poetry.

i also, out of the blue, received a package full of Poems-For-All from Richard Hansen and the 24th St. Irregular Press for my poem counterfeit poem. i had two other poems published for Poems-For-All, a few years ago.

Lastly, we've had a 6th broadside found and registered with The Guerilla Poetics Project. this movement is gaining some serious momentum, but we still need your help. if you are not already involved, please check the website out and support us. there are a variety of ways you can help us ranging from a straight donation to purchasing donated goods to becoming an operative in the field.

dominating the small press

my buddy Glenn W. Cooper appears in the recently released International Issue of the journal Poesy, where not only are his poems featured, but a wonderful interview. Glenn is an amazing poet living in a cultural island and continent wasteland in the middle of the Pacific.

this is Glenn's 4th interview (2nd in print) and i am so proud of -- and happy for -- him.

and thank you, Glenn, for the plugs for my own work; you're the tits.

poems are meant to be found

The Guerilla Poetics Project is barrelling along like a locomotive off its tracks; gaining speed as it careens down a treeless hill towards the small press village in the valley.

to date, five broadsides have been found of the hundreds that have been placed across this world. three of the five are even from different countries (Ireland, Canada and the US).
we are always eager to find more operatives, especially in places where we currently have no presence. if you are interested in helping us subvert the current publishing paradigm, while also connecting great writing to the masses, then check out the website and join us.

while you're there buy a chapbook or two, or one of the snazzy vinyl stickers or a set of coasters, the proceeds of which all go to the furthering of our mission.
and coming soon: a GPPReader featuring great poetry of the GPP.

this is going to be huge, folks. for once, be part of something larger than yourself; something beautiful; something immortal.

for what are we paying?

my wife is required to get her blood thinning levels (known as an International Normalize Ratio; or an INR) checked every so often. She has been on Coumadin for six weeks now (with four and a half months to go, at least) and in the beginning her levels will fluctuate as the doctors try to pinpoint the correct dosage for her body chemistry and eating habits (certain foods can counteract the effectivity of Coumadin).

a therapeutic INR level is between 2.0 and 3.0 (where a 1.0 is "normal"). she has gone to the clinic weekly to get it checked out, and it's fluctuated rather wildly. it rose up to 3.7 three weeks ago, whereupon her dose was adjusted. it dropped the subsequent week to 2.4 (just about where she needs to be) and was told to come back in two weeks. being the vigilant and intelligent girl she is, she went back the next week (just last week) surmising that without an adjustment it is likely her INR had continued to plummet.
it had dropped to 2.0.
then, the doctor told her to come back in a month without adjusting her dosage! A MONTH! he obviously didn't review her chart, or the trend of her levels, or anything like that. anything BELOW a 2.0 and she is at risk to have another clot. jesus h. christ!

well, my vigilant and intelligent wife KNEW a month wasn't right as her levels had been steadily dropping, and who was to say it plateaued at 2.0? she went back this week to get it tested and lo and behold! it was at 1.6! well below the therapeutic level. if my wife wasn't vigilant and intelligent, she would've been walking around with an increased chance of having another thrombic episode, and we would've been through the same hell we just went through six weeks ago.

so, my question is this: what the hell are we paying this guy for, exactly?
insight? no.
concern? no.
expertise? no.
incomptence? apparently.
apathy? definitely!

i can tell you this, we will no longer be paying him a dime. we're looking for another clinic that can handle the workload; with doctors who care, understand trends, and with the time (or ethics) to do their job right.

and all of this now reminds me of a little joke:
Q. what do call a person who graduates last in his class in medical school?
A. doctor.

it appears we found ourselves such a guy.

words dance

i received my contributor's copy of the new words dance (issue #10), where my poem an avalanche of suffering is featured on page 15 (only like the greatest page of every single journal, apparently (or else why was i featured there?)!).
other poets featured in this issue (edited by Jessica Mahlstedt, by the way) include: Christopher Cunningham, C. Allen Rearick, William Taylor, Jr., Nathan Graziano and S.A. Griffin. it's a fabulous issue. you should check it out. your mother would be proud.

benign neglect

that's what the cardiologist says the treatment for my "condition" requires. basically, he is saying that what i have (the ectopic heartbeat, or premature ventricular contractions (PVCs) and premature atrial contractions (PACs)) are entirely normal and not life-threatening.

but, that's easy for him to say.
sure, i believe him. my heart is healthy and strong. the stress test proved that. (apparently, too, i wowed them by staying on the thing for 12 minutes. it wasn't 3 minutes as i previously mentioned, but 12 whole minutes. suck it, losers! AND, that was with me out of shape. once i'm in shape, watch out.)

anyway, this good stress test is allegedly a clean bill of health for one year; meaning that there is little to no chance of anything heart-related happening to me in the next year. that's good.
but, the PVCs and PACs are very disconcerting. and scary. it's one thing to say, "don't worry about it, they are benign, ignore them" and it's another thing altogether to actually IGNORE your heart stopping and starting again. this ISN'T what is actually happens, but i'll be damned if it isn't what it feels like. i wish i got a copy of the EKG where one of these PAC occurred. it was crazy to see your heart flatlined for over 2.5 seconds, have a humongous palpitation, then continue on like nothing happened.

anyway, all in all, i'm heart healthy and should be kicking around for a while yet.

and i know that makes all of you feel just a little bit queasy, doesn't it? ha!

virus and concrete meat

Adrian Manning of Concrete Meat Press has put up a "Concrete Meat Press Suggests" page where he will feature the poetry of those poets he likes. two of my poems are up already and other poems by dozens of other poets will be appear over the next few weeks. check it out and support the small press by purchasing one of CMP's offerings.

also, i've contracted a terrible chest cold and have been convalescing for the past few days. i'm catching up on my email and correspondence, so if you i owe you one, sorry. i don't know about you guys, but i do not handle being sick very well. my wife says i revert twenty years or so into a whining teenager. i say she's wrong by about ten years. i easily act more like a whining 5-year-old than a teenager.

more poetry news: the first broadside of the Guerilla Poetics Project has been found. the new website will be up very soon which will include better broadside registration abilities, and a fabulous forum. this is getting big, folks. if you're interested in joining us as an operative, visit the site (or the blog) and let us know! we can use all the help we can get.

stationary bike

i started working out today -- riding a stationary bike for 30 minutes.
my thighs burned something fierce, but i kept up pretty good. it felt great to get the lungs puffing and the blood circulating.

tomorrow, i'll shoot for 45 minutes. any more than that and i'm sure to pass out.

farewell sedentary lifestyle

on Monday, i had my stress/treadmill test at the cardiologists. the doctor said his initial impression is that everything is a-ok. my heart is healthy and strong. blood is flowing properly and sufficiently. i have an appointment with him in two weeks for the final verdict, but it appears all i have is an irregular heartbeat (my heart skips a beat every so often). this is called an ectopic heartbeat. it's benign and not life-threatening, but is quite startling and disconcerting when it occurs. a skipped beat feels like the heart has stopped, then kicks back into action. scary. i did get to see what it looks like on the EKG, and it's a two second flatline followed by a sharp spike of activity. wild.

unfortunately, this condition can be aggravated by certain foods and drinks, specifically caffeine and alcohol. both do affect my arrhythmia (making it more frequent) so i now have to curtail my intake of both.

however, the diagnosis is good news. certainly could've been worse.

but, back to the stress test. having lived a fully sedentary lifestyle the last year and a half, my body is NOT used to moving in any kind of aerobic way. so, running on a treadmill was a shock to my system. the point of the test is to get the heart rate up and push the body to exhaustion so that an echocardiogram can be taken at that point (the technician had only one minute after i dismounted the treadmill to get a complete echo of the heart; this was no easy matter, trust me). an echo of the heart at exhaustion can tell a lot more than one at rest. any problem is magnified. any irregularity is revealed.
well, it didn't take long at all for me to reach exhaustion. in a matter of three minutes i was huffing and puffing, my heart rate pushing past 200 bpm, sweat dripping off of me. THREE minutes! it was embarrassing.
and today, two days later, i'm so sore that i can barely walk. pathetic.

it's so embarrassing and pathetic, that i've decided to finally get up off my bony ass and start working out. soon, i'll be taut and lithe. not really, but i'll at least be able to last longer than three minutes. that's the plan, at least.

three minutes.
man, how disappointing. i guess i know how my wife feels, now: unfulfilled, unsatisfied, left wanting. there's only so much one can do in three minutes.

words dance

i received word that my poem an avalanche of suffering was accepted by words dance's guest editor, Jessica Mahlstedt, for issue #10; a print issue.

i've appeared in a few previous issues of words dance -- both online and in print -- in the past. it's a fine journal of poetry filled with quality poems. check out the website and subscribe/submit.

the diagnosis

well,
it appears there is nothing wrong with me (or my heart that is). the cardiologist said everything looked normal, the electrical pulses and sinus rhythm looked normal, the muscle appeared normal and strong. the only thing he noticed was the membrane between the left and right atria was thin and i potentially have something called a Patent Foramen Ovale (PFO) that 25% of adults have. it isn't life-threatening and things should be fine. there is still the possibility a small hole exists, but unless i have consistent symptoms there's nothing to worry about.

i am currently wearing a Holter Monitor (a 24-hour EKG device) in order to attempt to capture the bizarre and disconcerting arrhythmia that i experience. i will be taking a treadmill/stress EKG test on Monday and will follow up in two weeks to see if there is anything they find from these new tests.

it appears all the symptoms (apart from the arrhythmia) were due to stress and panic. i'm wondering if my wife's episode just 4 weeks ago played a part in this. now that she's well and back to normal i probably started to relax and all the emotions and pent up nerves and anxiety just flooded through my body causing my heart to race and i panicked.
i'm also prone to panic attacks and high anxiety. it's one of the fabulous Barrett traits along with a very big....well...nevermind.

anyway, it appears things are well.
for those of you hoping this was the end of justin.barrett, sorry suckas!it'll take more than a bum heart to get rid of this guy.

for those well-wishers out there, thank you!

i might have a weak heart, but there ain't no keeping this bastard down. for too long, at least.
ha!

i LOVE mail...and an eerily prescient title

in today's mail was a fine package from S.A. Griffin, venerable poet, artist, actor living in Los Angeles. in the package were a heft stack of his fabulous one-sheet journal MEAT, issue #10, with my poem our current president included. i'm honored to be included in issue #10. some great poems by Mr. Griffin, Ann Menebroker, Scott Wannberg, and others.

and, while reading through the previous posts on this blog (yes, i'm a vain egoist and i read my own posts from time to time), just before writing this, i noticed the eerily appropriate title to the post regarding my wife's own health issues: "the terror of your heart ripped from your solar plexis". it wasn't my heart that was ripped out during this ordeal, but a small hole.

my wife has that hole now. like e.e. cummings she carries my heart in her heart.

echo (updated)

i had my echocardiogram today. i won't find out the results until Friday morning, when i will see the cardiologist and he can give me the final diagnosis.

but, the echocardiogram is really fucking cool. first, the technician just searched around the front my chest, and we saw the pumps working and the valves flapping. then she went down around to the side of the chest and we saw the 4 chamber of the heart. she was even able to colorize it to see the blood flow.

then, she pulled out another instrument and we got to see my heart in 3D. and she was even able to take slices off of the 3D heart and view the inside, all the walls, the septa. it was insane. i've never seen anything like it.

also, it was all in real-time, so whatever my heart experienced could be seen on the screen. that was trippy.

before the whole echocardiogram began, the technician asked me what was going on, to get an understanding of what i was experiencing. she then asked me if there was any family history of heart problems, or any sudden deaths. i remember the ER doctor asking me the same thing when i was in there. i said no, because to the best of my knowledge there have been no heart problems in my family, either side. granted, we're not the closest of families and there are uncles i haven't seen in 20 years or more.

but, it just occured to me that my maternal grandfather died suddenly and unexpectedly when my mother was five. i'm terrified now that maybe he has some kind of heart condition. i know very little about the guy, other than his name, so it's possible he did have heart problems. i've asked my mother about it but haven't heard back from her yet.

anyway, Friday will be the day we find out the prognosis; and whether surgery will be necessary or not. i'll update when possible.

UPDATE: i heard back from my mother. my grandfather DID die of a sudden heart attack. "coronary thrombosis" was the official cause of death. FABU-fucking-LOUS! he was only 48, too. shit. i'm only 33, but that ain't too far off. so, i must inform my cardiologist of this, just to be safe. i hope that what i have is nothing related to what happened to him.
and now, i must attempt to remain calm for the next 40 hours; not gonna be easy.

filling the holes in our lives

yesterday, sitting in my mailbox, was the first 2 broadsides of the Guerilla Poetics Project. i did my part by hiding a quarter of them in a store in West Jordan, Utah; and will finish by hiding the remaining ones in the downtown Salt Lake Library and in a few stores around there. these hidden broadsides will fill a hole in the poetry publishing arena. we are plugging the gaps, filling the voids.

and, on top of that great news, is a touch of bad.
after my wife's scare three weeks ago, we aren't able to handle too much more; but, life just has a way of piling shit on top of shit.
yesterday, we decided to see a movie but had to suddenly leave when i started feeling anxious and clammy and had bizarre heart palpitations. i figured i'd finally contracted the virus that had been making the rounds at work. we went home, and i stayed up late into the night with the chills, the weird heart palpitations and a shortness of breath.
it lingered into today, so i decided i probably should get it checked out. just in case.

well, it turns out i have a congenital heart defect that i was never aware of. apparently, there is a hole in my heart, between the two atria which is causing the palpitations. it isn't life-threatening (meaning, i won't die from it) but it is concerning as they have been known to cause clots that could lead to stroke, etc.
i will be setting up an appointment with a cardiologist later this week, will get a cardiac echo and will most likely have to have surgery to close the hole.

it's strange, having something like this, that you were born with, that you knew nothing about. and it manifests itself only 3 weeks after the fright we had with my wife. it's too soon for this shit. luckily, it's not THAT bad. if the hole were between the ventricles, i wouldn't be home now and, instead, would be having open heart surgery as i write this. the surgery to repair this hole is pretty damn slick and can be done going through an artery.

anyway, the hole in my heart will be plugged much like we are doing with the Guerilla Poetics Project. suturing a gap that severely needs to be done.

more good news

i received an email the other day from The Other Voices International Project stating that they plan to put out an anthology of the work published on their journal over the years, and my poem After Heidi committed suicide and a few weeks passed, letting it sink in; and after the wife and I sat at home for 5 straight nights, barely talking to each other; and after sharing a bottle of wine, finally letting the emotion wash over us like soap bubbles, she said, was selected for inclusion. very exciting. i had 8 poems published in Vol. 8 back in 2004. it's nice to know that of all of the times an editor has said he held anthology rights it finally paid off once.

a touch of good news...

...for me,
a touch of bad news for Nerve Cowboy subscribers:

my poem "Letter to Glenn" was accepted for a future issue. damn glad to hear it. Nerve Cowboy is one of the best journals out there. very few are as consistently good and chock full of such amazing writing.

anyway, it was a bit of good news and it lifted my spirits considerably.

quick update

it's been a week since she was released from the hopsital for her pulmonary embolism.
she is no longer on the low-molecular-weight heparin (Lovenox) and is now taking strictly Coumadin. her INR (blood-clotting level) is perfectly in the therapeutic range (it will take about 3X longer for her blood to clot than a normal person) and things are looking good so far.

she has been back to work since Wednesday of last week. so far so good there, too. she's doing her best to eliminate as much work-related stress as she can, and working even harder at relaxing during those times when stress is unavoidable.

we still get brief moments of panic and terror, but they are becoming more rare with each day.

i want to thank all of you, again, for your kind words. it's comforting to know others have experienced similar episodes and emotions and have made it through. it's good to know that there are people out there who care.

i hope to get back into blogging more regularly, soon. i need to finish a few things around the house and such, after which i'll be back in full force.

the terror of your heart ripped from your solar plexis

some of you are already aware, but for those of you who don't know, my wife was admitted to the hospital this past Friday afternoon for a pulmonary embolism. her "PE" was due to a deep venous thrombosis (blood clot in her calf muscle) that was released into her bloodstream and then lodged in the arteries in her lungs. PEs are potentially fatal (allegedly 26% die from them), but we got lucky, caught it early enough and she is currently on treatment.

the story:
two Fridays ago (the 4th of August) my wife woke with a searing and horrific cramp in her left calf muscle, just below the knee pit. she had just begun working out for the first time about a month and a half and we initially thought it was a cramp due to that, and maybe some of the stress from her job (see previous post). the cramp responded to Ibuprofen and was only really bad at night and in the mornings. suddenly, the cramp stopped and the calf only ached a little. It must be getting better we thought.
then, on Wednesday (the 9th) my wife began experiencing a peculiar shortness of breath. suddenly, walking the dog around the block nearly floored her. merely walking up our one flight of stairs would wind her to the point of exhaustion. she knew something was wrong.
as luck would have it (not really, but the cliche works here), her father has a history of DVTs and PEs due to a sports-related injury he received when he was a teenager. he's lived with the fear ofsuddenly dying his whole life, having been on blood-thinners (Coumadin) since he was a young man. my wife knew of his condition and wondered if she might be experiencing the same thing.

she went to see our Primary Care Physician on Friday the 11th (having cancelled a previous appointment the day before because she couldn't get out of work early enough!!). our physician didn't think the muscle pain was due to a torn muscle, or muscle fatique, and ordered an ultrasound of the calf.
my wife drove to the clinic for the ultrasound, which showed a small (1 cm) clot behind the knee. the clot most likely caused the cramp. problem solved.

but what of the shortness of breath?

our physician's husband just so happens to be a cardiopulmonologist. she consulted with him and he suggested my wife high tail it to LDS Hospital for a pulmonary angiograph CT. she was pumped with radiocontrast dye and put in a CT tube. the angiograms showed multiple emboli in both lungs!

she was admitted to the ER for emergency treatment, then admitted into the hospital for 4 days of further treatment.

we got lucky. we got lucky that my wife's father had this condition in the past and it sparked a moment of recognition (or at least worry) in her. we are lucky our physician was concerned enough to order an ultrasound of the leg. we are lucky the leg still had a small thrombus that was visible. we are lucky our physician's husband specializes in this area of the body. we are lucky we caught it early enough for treatment.

and now we are home, after 4 harrowing, terror-filled days, and are on treatment. she was given a shot of Lovenox, a low-molecular weight heparin, in the subcutaneous fat of her belly immediately upon admittance in the ER. she continued those shots every 12 hours (and still will until Thursday of this week) -- i'm the one giving her the shots, which is so horrible for me as it bruises her something fierce. she was then given Coumadin by mouth and will continue that for 6 months, whereupon she will be removed from treatment, have further genetic testing, another angiogram and we'll go from there depending upon the findings of all the tests.

i mentioned the genetic testing above. this is done to assess a reason for her DVT and subsequent PE. so far, the doctors are mystified as to the reason. the main causes of DVT (and PE) are all non-factors for my wife (pregnancy, cancer, sedation, major surgery), except for the oral contraception she is on. oral contraception is a risk factor for DVT, and the older a woman gets the more at-risk she is. however, my wife is on a very low dose, and the doctors are fairly certain (and all are in agreement on this) that the birth control pills most likely had NO play in this episode.
if that's the case, then what caused it? with everything else ruled out, the only remaining options are genetic disorders (which are very rare, but so is getting a DVT and PE at her age with no other risk factors) or just plain, dumb luck (something you generally want to avoid, but is now something we are desperately hoping for). some of the genetic tests were done while she was in the ER, and all came back from the lab while she was admitted except one -- which should be back shortly. they all came back negative, except one (Protein S deficiency), but this test could have been skewed by the clot itself (which tends to gives a false-positive result) and by the fact the blood for the test was taken after her first dose of anti-coagulant (which definitely can skew the results). therefore, she needs to be retested after the 6 months of Coumadin treatment (plus 2 weeks for normal recovery of her blood clotting factors). Protein S deficiency is extremely rare (only 0.2% of the population has it) and her father DOES NOT have it, so she most likely doesn't either, but it is a concern. if she does have it, she'll be on Coumadin for life (not a great thing as she's so young, but better than the alternative). all we can hope for is a negative on the genetic testing, and no further PE or DVT episodes. if not, at least we know what to look for and can catch the DVT early enough that it should never progress to a PE.

NOTE: she may very well have a genetic disorder even if all current genetic tests are negative. the medical establishment is finding new disorder almost daily, and very likely will find another that could cause clotting issues. obviously, we would never know about it, but it's still a possibility.

so, that's the story of our weekend. i nearly lost the one person in this world i could afford to lose least. we experienced a terror unlike any we've experienced up to that point in our lives. unfortunately, we'll be faced with such terror in the future (almost all of us will) but i hope it's not for a long time to come.

we still get waves of panic at times, but we are working on getting back into our lives. it will take some time, but it will happen eventually.

for those of you who sent us emails (and/or visited us in the hospital) we THANK YOU from the deepest recesses of our hearts. the words THANK YOU don't convey how much your sentiments and words meant. we truly appreciate it.

and we are thankful for many things: for having such good friends and family; for being able to spend more time together with each other (and with you); for gaining a deeper understanding into our lives; for being so god damn lucky; and for gaining a fuller appreciation of each other.

things will probably change in our lives. strike that. DEFINITELY change. our diets will improve. our fitness levels will improve. our stress levels will decrease. our love for each other will grow stronger. and the things we care about most will NOT be put on the back burner of the stove of life, but instead will be moved to the front.

and lastly, again, THANK YOU ALL!

employment follies

my wife hates her job.
absolutely hates it.
she's a microbiologist for a medical device testing lab. they're a local company started by (and named for) a brilliant Ph.D. microbiologist who thought he could fill a niche in the medical device testing arena. he was right.

the company shall remain nameless, until they fuck my wife over (which they will undoubtedly do eventually), and then it will be posted all over this fucking blog. but, like i said, it's named after this guy who started the company. anyway, he retired a few years ago and his unqualified, incompetent, far-less-brilliant, new-business-loving son took over. he's a bush-league CEO and is running the company into the ground. i can't help but smile at that thought. what a moron. how anyone can fail at running such a potentially lucrative company is besides me. but, the stupid will never cease to amaze.

well, some of the things my wife has told me that goes on there range from mind-boggling to downright unethical. she has been looking for a new job for a long time now, with no luck. fortunately, she found another job recently. unfortunately, it's for the same company, doing a completely different job; but i hope it works out for her. at the very least, she'll be removed from her bitch of a boss. however, she's still working for this small-fry company.

the employee turnover at this company is sick. i've never seen anything like it in the science field. it's insane. moreover, my wife told me that they run the company like a gulag: with fear and threats. apparently, one guy, who has worked there for a number of years and had a stellar, hard-working reputation, made a mistake one weekend: he forgot to notate when he took something out of the incubator. he threw that something away, and on the following Monday realized his mistake. his boss accused him of forging documents (a terrible, humongous no-no in a regulated field, and a very serious accusation). the stuff was later found in the trash and he was exonerated, but not after his name was dragged through the mud and certain, specific restraints had been placed on him.

these restraints are purely fascist in nature and (should be) illegal, whatever they are, they are unethical and scary wrong: he had the people who reported to him removed from his managership, he was docked all of his vacation for the next few years, he is now forced to justify all of his work and is basically NOT TRUSTED at all. and lastly, he was forced to sign a document that said he wouldn't discuss WITH ANYONE these overly harsh and unjust measures levied against him. i'm serious! and he didn't even do anything wrong but make a notation mistake on a weekend. i suppose he would've been tar, feathered and strung up for the magpies to peck at had he actually committed the crime.

a fucking Nazi-company if ever there was one.
christ on a stick.
the guy is looking for a new job, obviously; and didn't comply with the document, obviously (or how else did i find out?), thereby sticking it to the man. good for him.
but, my god. these are people struggling with families and mortgages and unable to afford to lose their job. and they're being fucked around with. i tell you, if my wife ever has anything like this attempted to be forced upon her, there will be a huge lawsuit, a big FUCK YOU to incompetent daddy's boy, and a anonymous call to FDA.

"uh, Mr. Eschenbach, have you ever heard of REDACTED REDACTED in Salt Lake City, Utah? no? oh, well, you should pay them an unannounced visit some day. if you do, check out their REDACTED lab and REDACTED. and be sure not to miss their REDACTED REDACTED lab. i think you'll find something very interesting indeed."

anyway, when she told me the kind of shit that goes on there (there's a ton more, but i can't say too much lest the fascists start monitoring my correspondences (Tommy? Frimp? are you there?)) i couldn't believe what i was hearing. losing your vacation? being forced to sign a document saying you wouldn't discuss it? what the fuck? what are they, the Spanish fucking Inquisition?

christ.
the only good thing that will come of this is the turnover will remain high, the company will continue to falter and dipshit daddy's boy will fail like he was born to do.

sayonara motherfucker.

oh, and if you're in need of a damn fine microbiologist who is a hard worker and a quick learner, give me a holler. i know someone who fits that description to a T. AND, she will never take maternity leave on your ass. ;)

and out of the blue...

i get an email from The Stinging Fly saying they liked my poem The Perfect Night and that they want to publish it. you might remember that i posted recently about a rejection i received from them. i only got three poems back in the rejection, but i don't keep records of which poems i send where (i know, i know) so i had no idea that they had actually kept one. so, i guess it wasn't a rejection after all.

plus, they pay 50 pounds -- or maybe it was Euros, i don't know -- (not sure what that is in American dollars, either) and two contributor's copies. hot damn. The Stinging Fly is a great glossy, perfect bound journal out of Dublin, Ireland. gorgeous production and filled with damn fine poetry.
this poet's life contributor Brian McGettrick (bmcg) had a featured poet spread in a previous issue. and it was great stuff.

i'm gonna have to come up with something good to spend my monies. boy oh boy.

lastly, my weekly column Background Noise was posted over on Upright Against The Savage Heavens this past Sunday. i forgot to mention it. this week i talk about poetry slams and open-mic nights, and what reading poetry aloud to an audience is good for, if anything.

that's a bit personal, isn't it?

i've been thinking about posting on this for awhile, now.
so here goes:

as you may or may not know, the wife and i live in Utah. and, as you may or may not know, Utah is a VERY child-rich state (meaning there are more children than adults). i believe the average age in Utah is 26, and this isn't due to the fact that there are no old people. it's due to the fact that most of our population is under the age of 15 (i'm serious).
anyway, the wife and i (as you may or may...) also have decided to NOT have children. there are various and numerous reasons for this, but they are personal. who's business is it, anyways, if we're going to have children or not. but, for some reason, there seems to be certain things -- personal things -- that aren't personal, or at least people think shouldn't be personal; things that can be asked about out in the open. our breeding status happens to be one of them, apparently.

the moment someone hears that we've decided not to have children they are impelled to ask us why. "Oh, why? Why aren't you going to have children?" they say; almost as if we MUST have children to validate the fact that they did. or as if we're out of our fucking minds for not wanting kids. either way, too fucking bad. we're not here to validate your bad decisions, nor are we here to defend any of ours.

"Oh, why? Why wouldn't you want children?"
i gotta tell you, i am so tempted to look at the questioner's umpteen kids -- invariably running amok and causing havoc -- point at them and say, "That's why!"
but the thing is, it's no one's goddamn business WHY we've decided to not have kids. i don't go up to people and ask them WHY they had theirs. i don't go up to an ugly couple, their 6 obese, ugly kids eating dirt and dismembering each other, and say, "Why in all that is holy did YOU TWO decide to have kids?" but, whenever anyone sees a 30-something, married couple without kids, they MUST ask. and by asking they are implying that there is something wrong with us.

and so fucking what if there were? so what? that's our business. some things are personal, and should remain so.

but the worst is when they condescend to us and tell us that "we'll change our minds"; as if we're some fucking immature teenagers who don't know any better, who aren't capable of making a right decision for themselves. "Oh, you'll change your mind as you get older." like our lives will suddenly become meaningless without precious fucking kids in our lives. NEWSFLASH, asshole -- we didn't just come up with this plan on a whim, while drunk one night:

"You know what, honey *burp* i don't think i want any kids."
"That's a marvelous idea. *hiccup* pass me another beer wouldja?"

so, if it's not prying into our personal lives, it's a patronizing tone about how we're obviously mistaken about our choices and will soon come to our senses.
*warning, sarcasm ahead*
oh man, i hope the wife and i snap out of this immature phase we're in. and before it's too late and we end up regretting our entire lives.
*end sarcasm*
FUCK YOU and your fucking condescension!

NOTE TO ASSHOLES: if you really want to know the real reason we don't want to have kids, it's because we grew up with you halfwits, went to school with you, watched you proliferate and breed, even become managers and bosses and we really don't want any of our offspring to have to grow up in a world that allows such injustice, and then go to school and socialize with your serial-killers-in-the-making spawn.

just kidding; you're not all halfwits.
some of you are considerably less witted than half.

creeeeeeeepy

new website

i'm working diligently on the new Guerilla Poetics Project website. i've got 90% of it done. only thing left is to add the distilled manifesto and the rest of the biographies of the participating poets.

check it out and let me know what you think.

also, the first 4 poems have been chosen for the GPP, and I'm proud to say one of mine was in that 4. my poem "like fireworks" will be GPP Broadside #001, and is currently being worked on by Bill Roberts. hopefully, it'll be in the hands of the GPP Operatives shortly. the other 3 poems chosen were by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal, Hosho McCreesh and Karl Koweski. congrats, guys, and i'm itching to get all of them out into the paperbacks!

check out the GPP blog to see the final results of the first voting process.

rant about the house and a pleasant surprise

i walked down into the basement, to go through a few of our boxes looking for some books that i had misplaced (which i thankfully found elsewhere) and what do i find? well, a great big fucking puddle covering 1/4 of the basement, soaking through one of our area rugs we've got rolled up down there is what. i looks as if it came through the hole drilled into the wall where the water main enters the house. we had a terrific and horrible rainstorm earlier today. one of those odd high-desert ones where membranes of rain thoroughly soak everything for a couple of hours and then the sun comes out as if nothing ever happened.
it appears there's a pretty impressive leak somewhere. just great!

well, in today's mail was a beautiful "pick-me-up": a copy of Christopher Cunningham's newest book and still the night left to go by Bottle of Smoke Press. it's a two-book collection of poems and letters; and it's fucking magnificent. beautiful. i'm sure you already know my feelings about Cunningham's poetry. but, his letters. my god, his letters. and there are 11 in the collection to read to poets and editors and publishers -- including, i am proud to say, one that was written to yours truly.
it's a beautiful fucking collection. a work of art. mine came with a brilliant watercolor of a typewriter and glass of wine, as if something important is looming. and for $10, it's a steal.
pick a copy up right now, okay, fucker?

Orwellian rules to writing better prose

i just finished reading a great essay by George Orwell on the death of effective and beautiful prose in the English language.

The essay culminates in a list of five rules for prose writing:

1. Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.
2. Never use a long word where a short one will do.
3. If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.
4. Never use the passive where you can use the active.
5. Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.
6. Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.

if you've ever read anything by Orwell, you know he is one of the all-time great writers, and a master at non-fiction, biographical/historical works (Homage to Catalonia and Down and Out in Paris and London are masterpieces).

i think most (if not all) of these rules apply just as well to poetry. and are often the main reasons bad poetry is bad. Rules 2, 3, 4 and 5 seem the most important to me. Simplicity, beauty and originality is the name of the game.

and i suppose Rule 6 is what we call "poetic license." just don't make use of that license too much or it could end up being revoked.

another rejection

i received a rejection in today's mail from Ireland, for a submission i sent over 6 months ago to The Stinging Fly. denied from yet another country.

and i'm of Irish descent, too. my own people don't even want me. ah well.
at least the poems i sent them were stronger than the ones i sent Nerve Cowboy (see two posts down). i thought they were pretty damn good, even.

another country down, another 190 or so to go.

good news and a heart fed to the wind

i received word today that my poem Of An Otherwise Stark, Rural Highway will appear in Naked Knuckle #7. I had some poems in earlier issues, but have been goose-egged since. I'm happy to crack it again. I'll update when it appears.

Also in the mail today was a copy of Michael Kriesel's new chapbook Feeding My Heart to the Wind -- Selected Short Poems 1999-2005, published by sunnyoutside. Kriesel is one of the best out there with dictating a specific mood in 12 words or less. masterful.
i look forward to devouring it.

rejected

i received a rejection from Nerve Cowboy today. upon reading the poems they sent back, i realized i'd made a grave error in having written them in the first place; nevermind sending the damn things out as a submission.
i forgave myself this once, though. i was a bit rusty in my selection process as this was the first submission i'd made after my extended hiatus.

really, though. the poems sucked. it's kind of embarrassing knowing i sent them the poems.
i have another submission out to them (i hedged my bets and sent another, stronger stack of poems), and i'll update on the verdict when it arrives.

background noise and guerilla publishing

read my latest Background Noise post on Christopher Cunningham's Upright Against The Savage Heavens. a little elucidation into why we are taking it upon ourselves to ambush the reading American public.

Guerilla Poetics Project. Not Just A Movement, A Way Of Life.

keep posted here and on the GPP blog for more information. if you're interested in participating, or helping out, let me know.

the Guerilla Poetics Project's Manifesto..

okay. we are moving along quickly with this idea, go here and read where we are at.

it's gonna be sweet...

writing related sites and posts

i know the previous post was somewhat vague. don't worry. it'll all come to light soon enough.

but, to keep you heathens busy, here are some links:

Everything you Need to Know to Write Successfully -- In Ten Minutes by Stephen King

and

Improving Your Writing c/o PigPog

go at it, my fellow writers. scribble the new mythologies. scrawl for the next generation.

the poetic revolution

it is coming.

and it will rock your fucking world.

Guerilla Poetry.

You cannot hide!

random thoughts...

it must be Tour-de-motherfucking-France time. jesus, there are more fucking bicyclists out there than i can ever remember; all of them wearing their goofy-ass, skin-tight spandex like THEY'RE in the goddamn race. the worst is the fat dudes who do that. and, is it required to wear those stupid jerseys and shorts? i own a bike and i don't wear them when i go riding. it's like a bunch of guys playing flag football and one guy shows up in full pads. whatever. just get out of my way, Lance, as you're waddling your ten-speed down the road.

i saw that the FDA approved a new birth control the other day. all this really means is they approved another birth control that pharmacists have the right not to dispense. don't pharmacists have to take the Hippocratic Oath? oh, they don't? it must be the hippocritic oath. you know what a person does when he flunks out of medical school (or isn't smart enough to get into it in the first place)?
he becomes a pharmacist. or a chiropractor.
anyway, it's complete bullshit to me that someone can be in charge of DISPENSING drugs that a REAL DOCTOR prescribed (because, oh i don't know, it is legal and NEEDED) who then has the power to OVERRIDE that doctor's diagnosis by NOT dispensing the drug. can they do this for any drug? like, say, if grandma has arthritis and they decide they just don't FEEL comfortable with dispensing pain medication to her?
it doesn't make sense. what gives this person the right? because they are spiritually uncomfortable with it? fuck that. become a goddamn preacher, then, asshole. you became a pharmacist to give me drugs. i'm pretty damn sure your job can be automated quite easily. take off your fucking white lab-coat (as IF you're actually MIXING the drugs yourself back there), wipe off that fucking smarmy grin and fill my fucking prescription, dickhead.
and there are times (e.g. endometriosis) when a woman is prescribed birth control pills NOT for preventing a birth but for health issues (regulating menstruation, lessening cramps, menorrhagia, cancer, etc.). but, this is a man's world and we (men) have utter control over everything (ESPECIALLY a woman's body). so-fucking-what if some women have to suffer (or even die) in order to prevent someone else from preventing a pregnancy. we'll be good goddamned (and we are) if someone thinks they can fornicate at will without sufficient and vengeful repercussions.

i received word from this poet's life contributor Kat that another this poet's life contributor (and all-around punk), C. Allen Rearick, will guest-edit a future issue of remark.
it will probably end in a major crash and burn, and turn out horrifically bad; but we should all humor Mr. Rearick and submit to him our best work (or worst, if you're so inclined in giving him a hard time). good luck, Casey. you're gonna need it! o_O
i've got a submission of 50+ poems coming your way. and they're all shitty! i dare you to get through them all without a) killing yourself, b) killing me and c) both a and b! muhahaha.

lastly, i'm tired. plain and simply tired. i need sleep.
end of rant.

and breathe...

the first commute after the move has been completed. not so bad. 45 minutes. i was expecting an hour, so it was a pleasant surprise. i'm wondering, though, if it had to do with how early i left (6:30) and if it would've been much worse if i left later. i'm guessing yes.

we are just about done unpacking (or, umpacking for you in the know). the wife stayed home today, with her mother, to get some final things done before she gets back to work herself.

and it's almost surreal, being in the house finally, after so long a wait and after so many tribulations. it's a strange feeling. very anticlimactic. but, obviously, still nice. it beats the tiny apartment any day, even though my lazy, out-of-shape ass is already tired of walking up the modest flight of stairs.

and our boy, Rufus, is glad as can be with the new place.

nothing poetic to speak of recently. i have some submissions out there that i should be hearing about soon. i'll update when they return.

birthday gift

we are moved.
the impossible or the seemingly impossible finally occurred. we moved.

we are slowly making our way through endless boxes of shit. tossing that which we don't need, or won't fit or we have two of, and finding a place for the rest. my new writing room is partially set up (a desk with my computer and typewriter, so far) and the rest in boxes waiting for me to muster the energy to got through it.

and, there is no better birthday gift i can think of than to be moved in, set up and ready to continue on with the rest of our miserable lives.

now, if i can just figure out what the hell this switch does.

there are only so many of us...

I am sitting here drinking cold coffee in the oppressive Georgia heat. the crickets are a staccato chorus outside my broken windowpanes, their chatter vibrating thru my heavy mind. I press the cracked skin of my fingers against my red eyes. no relief from any of it.

I need to say a few things. the world is a terrible place, mostly, filled with venom and ugliness, laden with burden after impossible burden, there is never any mercy for any of us really. there are only moments of no struggle, no screaming, moments where we can catch our breath and try to find the reason to go on, try to find the reason to keep swinging even as we realize the futility of fighting.

in a world like that it makes no sense to do deliberate harm to another human being who is really alive, one who burns with the fire, one who truly believes that it is possible to find a way thru the madness and grief. and that is what I've done, in my exchange with Owen. I gave over to the miserable, basest portion of my Sicilian nature, and instead of accepting the opinion of another as something different from mine, yet still valid, and moving on with my life, I chose to be a smarmy, smartassed prick. no matter what theeffects said to me in regards to my letter/post, I responded poorly.

so: first and foremost, I do not think that Owen Roberts is a hack. I do not think him to be in any way shape or form a bad writer. rather, I think his poetry is strong, honest, and very real. and most of all, I raise my glass to any motherfucker with the GUTS to write poetry in such a vapid place as America Version 2006. theeffects has the guts and the will to keep standing up again each time the poem calls, and he does it as well as anyone, and better than most.

it is wrong of me to provoke someone, which is exactly what I did. I knew I was pushing buttons, and then when I got the response I sought, I acted even more snarky. I misunderstood theeffects "threat" of "kicking my ass," and reacted as I would had a real threat been made against me, as I'm sure anyone would in a similar circumstance. so there is no need for any "law" nor any "ass kicking." instead, I propose that I be LESS INCLINED TO FREAK OUT IN THE FUTURE in all situations. hopefully a deep breath, a cup of coffee and a smoke (h/t to Kat), and a more calm rational assesment of the actual nature of the problem at hand will yield more productive results for this high-strung poet.

okay. I've been "long winded" again (sorry, Owen) but felt this needed to be said. I was wrong for my part in this, I overreacted, and I never wanted to disparage ANYONE who faces the misery and pain of this savage life with the aplomb necessary to turn it into poetry. and that is what we are about here, all of us.

and on a personal note to theeffects: "what? are you kidding? we got ourselves a family here..." and I hope this little corner of the small press can continue its bold assault on the ranks of REAL HACKS and ACADEMIC FRAUDS and those too afraid to live, too afraid to burn.

thanks for reading.

**cross posted at Upright Against the Savage Heavens**

explanation...

I would like to take a moment to apologize to readers of j.b's blog. some of you may have read the exchange between theeffects and myself. it turned ugly. so I deleted the posts and the ugly childish comments being bandied about.

this place is about poetry and communication. I apologize for posting the bitchy letter that started the whole thing.

that's it. talk amongst yourselves, folks.

mediation

i am writing this via email from my cellphone. i am standing in my new house, waiting for the movers to arrive. i checked this blog and have read through the comments. i feel impelled to take a few minutes out of my already busy day to respond to what is being bandied about by the two verbal pugilists who've taken to sparring on here recently.

i am friends with both Christopher Cunnungham and the man who calls himself "theeffects". i've known both for a number of years, correspond with both frequently and regularly, and consider both great poets and friends.

i know both to be steadfastly stubborn in their beliefs and philosophies (as they should be), with no qualms about voicing their opinion.

i also feel both are honest and possess much integrity. therefore, it is difficult for me to read all the snarky comments, vicious insults and unnecessary "calling outs" being vollied across the bow of the ship i call "this poet's life".

i am not attempting to make peace between you two -- CC & theeffects -- but it would seem superficial and counterproductive (in this already superficial and counterproductive world) to argue and backbite when there is already so much of that going on in this small press.

i am also NOT here to take sides, but if someone -- especially someone with the integrity and honesty of CC or Luis -- tells me they do something in a way completely opposite the way i do it (no matter how unbelievable TO ME it seems) i must take them for their word.

i have no fucking how anybody else in this world writes. all i know is how i do it. and for all i know, i could be writing in a way that is totally unbelievable -- and most editors would agree TOTALLY WRONG -- to most people.

all that matters is that you do it. that we do it your way, or in a way that works for you; allowing you to scribble the truth in the margins of our otherwise banal, painful lives.

that is all.
both men touch gloves and go back to your corners.

::DING::
ROUND TWO!
--j

we interrupt our regularly scheduled flame war...

...with the announcement that everything went smoothly today (shockingly) and we will be moving into our new house tomorrow morning. the cable company won't be coming by until Friday (sometime between 6 a.m. and 9 p.m.) to hook up our t.v. and -- most importantly -- our internet, so i will be without internet access until at least Friday.

this means that i will be unable to answer any of your emails (assuming any of you want to send me one), and unable to post on here. also, if i haven't sent you my new mail address -- and you really want it -- let me know and i'll get it to you. i think i got everyone, but i'm running on fumes right now.

lastly, if any of you want to create posts on here, feel free. Cunningham, i am putting the place in your hands. i trust you will do right by it. :)

we return to FLAME WARS, starring CC and theeffects....