new website, new blog

For anyone who is still following me after all this time -

I'm redesigning my website. I have some cool ideas in mind, some of which won't materialize for another month and a half (as I develop the raw material in the form of images and videos), some of which will be implemented over the short term.

I'm going with WordPress for the backbone of the site, which also means I can incorporate my blog into the site itself. Everything is just a placeholder and a welcome sign at the moment, but jog on over to www[dot]jeffstumpo[dot]com* to start getting updates once again.

*The only comments I received in the last half-dozen or so posts over here were Chinese spam, so I'm not typing in the direct link to the new site in order to maybe, maybe help keep them off the new site for a while. It'll take an extra two seconds to fix up the URL in a copy-paste. Sorry about that.

Spam

Hey, folks. I know some of you out there are reading, but the only comments I'm getting are spam. Are you just reading quietly? Have I become boring? I'll be getting back to more poetry-related posts soon if that helps.

[insert uncertain emoticon here]

The Waiting Game

I'm waiting for the last of my students to turn in their final projects. These will either be analyses of nonwritten media (e.g. political cartoons, advertisements, dance routines, film segments, music, etc.) or original creations of nonwritten media. I like it as an exercise in composition because, let's face it, much of the composition we encounter these days is not based in words. Slightly more than 3/4 of our class time is spent on making our connection to words stronger, more deliberate, so I don't feel bad about going multimedia in the last project.

In related news, the papers are due by 9pm tonight. 7-9 on a Saturday is a horrible time to have a final.

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The waiting also continues on the job front. I've heard back from a couple of places (rejections). I'll perhaps keep you updated. I'll perhaps not, as I don't think it appropriate to put all my job search information out here on a non-anonymous blog. One, it's respect for the system. Two, it's just covering my own butt.

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The final waiting is for holiday visits to family back in the Midwest. We leave on Monday and return the 29th. I may blog during that time, but don't be surprised if you don't hear from me again until a year-end wrapup.

Labels

I think I have too many labels, and that I haven't applied them evenly. Anybody want to go back through all my posts and tell me what keywords should be associated with each?

I didn't think so. Neither do I.

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I've been getting a lot of emails this semester that begin with "Hi" or "Hey." I think it's because I tell my students they can call me JeFF, but they're too uncomfortable to do so. At the same time, they feel awkward going back to "Mr. Stumpo" having been granted the opportunity to be on a first-name basis with me. It's really quite amusing.

Oh, and don't worry, I've made sure that they know how to write a more professional greeting.

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Anybody out there think a poetic sequence and a long poem are basically the same thing?

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When people ask me what my dogs are, I'm very proud of being able to answer "mutts." I like saying mutts as opposed to mixed-breeds. Mutt has some balls to it, some scrap, some independence that just says, "I'm the only me in the world. Don't have a chip on my shoulder about it, but recognize, I'm the only me."

Remains

For those of you who are still reading/subscribing:

1. My computer died in early November. I've been borrowing a laptop, but haven't bothered to post here on it. I now have a new laptop of my very own, an HP dv4t, and I'll return to posting. Expect updates on

2. Poetry. diluvium is getting a thorough vetting by my chair right now. I'm not going to comment on that process, as I consider it something to be kept between my advisor and myself. But poetry and the editing process is definitely on my mind of late.

2b. Poetry. It's about time I start weighing in seriously on the prose/scholarly portion of my diss. I've had thoughts tumbling around for a while now, but have concentrated my efforts on the creative section. No more (or at least not to the exclusion of the scholarly stuff). Might as well put some of those thoughts up here while I'm working through them.

3. Also expect my thoughts, whether you wanted them or not, on Windows 7. I don't have it installed yet, but a free copy is coming because of the timing of my laptop purchase. I'd gotten quite used to Linux Mint, so switching back to Vista has been odd. Good news - I don't have to hack into my own iPod Touch anymore (i.e. I can run iTunes again, though I miss Amarok 1.4). Bad news - It's slower than Linux Mint. Good news - the Search option isn't as powerful as Gnome-Do (i.e. it doesn't learn which programs, folders, and files I access most often), but it's actually finding all my files correctly this time. Bad news - need to get used to fewer customization options again.

Music of the moment: Woodchopper's Ball by Woody Herman. "Blue Flame" and "Goosey Gander" are awesome. "Blue Flame" especially.

In case you Google your professors

Dear ENGL110 Students,

As I mentioned in class and an email, I'm going to push you fast and hard. Composition is not just throwing words on a page and hoping they stick; it's an entire mindset. That's what we're going to learn this semester - how to find the best possible mindset for yourself during your college career and how best to express that mindset through (primarily) words.

That being said...

I threw a lot at you on Wednesday. It was certainly more than most of you expected, and likely more than most of your other professors did. We didn't even get to meet each other properly, just dove into exercises and expectations. We'll fix that to a certain extent on Friday. If you haven't played Apples to Apples before, you're in for a treat. It's a good icebreaker game, a way to get to know people in a wholly unusual manner. It's also a good time to start practicing your argumentation skills, with little on the line but others' initial impressions of you (which is, of course, a lot). The lesson won't be a throwaway one, but it will pay dividends slowly over the course of the semester.

Be ready. Have fun.

Time Off

I've been getting quite a bit of work done on my dissertation lately - am working on three to four drafts of poems each day, with one to two of those being likely to end up in the project. It's a good pace, and I don't want to distract myself from it too much. I'm taking a blog break for about week, so unless some kind of good news pops up that I can quickly note (upcoming gig, publication, etc), it'll be quiet here at A Piecemeal Poet(ry). If you're Following or have subscribed, it'll be easy to know when I start up again.

Oh the places you'll go

A belated wrapup of blogs I was reading during National Poetry Writing Month, plus somebody saying really smart things that help newcomers (students of all ages) "get" poems:

Poeta y Diwata is the blog of Barbara Jane Reyes. She weighs in on a number of cultural events ranging from Filipino/a books to the recent Star Trek reboot. But during April, she had an ongoing sequence called "Poem: For the City that Nearly Broke Me," ultimately containing 12 parts. Go read.

Mairi's Secret Poems from the Times Literary Supplement is a wonderful project, taking a line or phrase or couple of sentences from the aforementioned periodical and using it/them to spark an entire poem. Her efforts continue into May, so continue to visit for new poems.

Mike Theune talks a lot about Structure and Surprise, centering in large part on the Turn, the necessary moment at which things shift in a poem. Visit his blog for micro-essays on specific poets and how the structure of their verse is as important as their word choice.

UPDATE: In the comments section, Barbara Jane let me know that her sequence is ongoing as well.

Calendar check

I just added what I think to be the code such that you can add my upcoming events to your Google Calendar. Would somebody who uses that do me a favor and click the icon (or text) for Beat Night over in the sidebar and let me know if it works?

In which I play catchup

Round Top rocked.

Rather than do the more-organized yet more-obnoxious manner of posting (which would be to backdate individual posts for each of the days I was there), I'm tossing all posts in at once, accompanied by the date, separated by my usual three dashes.

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Wed Apr 15

Flights felt long. Time with Carl and Elizabeth felt like not nearly enough. Boom Blox is awesome. There is a sketch of me/someone as a harried business traveler. The photo is shaky. The sketch is shaky, too, but not as shaky as my photo-taking arm in too little lighting.



ZzzZZzZZzzzzzzzzzz

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Thurs Apr 16

I'd missed people. I missed some people. It was good to be on campus for a couple of hours.

That night got to meet Gwen, one of the caretakers at Round Top, who was nice enough to point me to my sleeping place when I got there past the time I should have and couldn't find anybody.

ZzzZZZZZzzzzzzzzzz

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Fri Apr 17

Badgerdog! The buses were late by nearly two hours, thanks to a torrential downpour that covered Austin, Round Top, and any number of regional towns and cities Friday morning. The kids, however, were great.

I ran two workshops of about ten students each, middle and high schoolers. Each group had a couple of real wiseasses, which warmed my heart. May these kids not have the sense of intellectual adventures beat out of them by the TAKS tests. Here's the thing that really made me happy - it's not that they laughed at my jokes (which is ingratiating but something I can separate during my assessment of the workshop), kit's not that they asked some decent questions (even one good question in fifty minutes under the circumstances would have been pretty darn good, and they came through with more), it's that almost half of them got up to read/recite during the open mic following lunch. A huge part of my message for this age group has to do with confidence and identity, that it's OK to put yourself out there, to be somebody else or even pretend to be somebody. More than that, it's OK to put yourself out there as you, the you you want to be seen as. It's a chance to truly control others' perceptions of you. It's scary, but it's also empowering. So when the first student blanked out on a poem she had thought she had memorized, I made sure to have everyone clap a second time just for the guts it took to try. Some of them were playful, some serious, but all put themselves on the line. Sometimes twice. All of them came a little closer to being their own persons. So to Ashley, Andrea, Mac, Danielle, Daniella, Nayeli, Sarah, Roberta, Tiffany, Yvonne, India, Viany, Amelia, Perla, Ashley, Ariana, Trinidata, Tre', Amber, and Lisa: thank you.

Additional thanks to Jo, Wendy, and Tamam, my new poetry buddies and with whom I enjoyed much of the weekend.

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Sat Apr 18

I read "Icarus cannot be a palindrome" and performed "Mother Earth," "Sign of the Turtle," "Wooden Boys and Deadlier Toys," and "ADD TV" at the 9am reading. Got to meet Abe Young, and she was a real pleasure to hear. Even with a 9am slot, performing on the Festival Hall concert stage was a blast. I could have gone off mic for all but the beatboxed static at the end of the last piece. Some day I want to do a full-length show there.

Three other highlights for the day:

One, Fady Joudah's commentary during the panel discussion. This guy's poetry is good - not that a Yale Younger Series winner needs my endorsement - but what impresses me most is how deliberately and thoroughly he considers his work, its relation to himself, its relations to the world, and the implications that arise. Case in point - a Palestinian-American poet with a major award behind him and time spent in Doctors Without Borders wondering to what degree he takes part in and even perpetuates a spectrum of suffering that results in aid only for certain groups who are eventually forgotten in favor of a new group that suffers "more." This is not blind liberal guilt. This is seeing the connectedness and brokenness of the world.

Two, Naomi Shihab Nye gives great readings of great breadth. I love that she reads from her own work (and reads it well), from the work of poets she enjoys and respects, and even tosses in poetic moments in overheard conversations. When Naomi reads, you realize that she finds poetry everywhere. And by this I don't mean she forces the issue by trying to rank her speciality above all others, comparing every art to her own. That's a small-minded trap, meant to further the ego of the artist involved. Rather, whether or not you like Naomi's style of poetry, you have to admit that she is always looking outside herself, always looking to channel the brilliance she believes surrounds her all the time.

Three, hearing W.S. Merwin read. I like Merwin. He's deep, he's pretty funny, and he's humble. Not bad for a (now) two-time Pulitzer winner.

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Sun Apr 19

Two highlights:

One, Bruce Noll's Pure Grass that morning- better than trying to be Whitman, Bruce figured out how to embody joyously Whitman's poems in a recitation/performance that was unabashed and inspiring on both technical and emotional levels. If you ever get the chance to see him work, do it.

Two, improv tag team with Adam Mitchell, Mic Check's musical guest that night. I performed "Sign of the Turtle" and "ADD TV," read Shira Erlichman's "Daddy's Parking Lot Sermon," performed Glenn Phillips's "Ma'am. Please Put Those Jeans Down" and "Wooden Boys and Deadlier Toys," and then got Adam to hum a little gospel as I read "A Reading from the Book of Mendeleev." Crowd loved it. I like this guy's playing and would have bought a CD had any been available. Revolution Cafe remains a cultural force in the Brazos Valley.

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Mon Apr 20

Marley & Me on the plane almost made me tear up, even without the sound.

Good timing, since I got to see my own pups again. Hello dogs!

It gets even better. Hello wife! I'm home!

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Tues Apr 21

Shouldn't I be unpacked by now? Shouldn't I be blogging again by now?

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Wed Apr 22

Oh no, I've entered a wormhole and am typing before I begin to type. Or typing after I type. Or something. Doing errands. Revising poems I wrote while at Round Top. Will post those tomorrow - the weather is beautiful, so screw my plan to post twice a day!

Let's Do the Time Warp (just once)

No, I'm not putting up an image of either Tim Curry or Anthony Stewart Head here.

No.

I see you waiting, about to open your mouth.

The answer is still no.

OK, moving on.

Hey, I said no. I meant no.

All right, I'm going to be out of town for a while. I'm teaching a workshop in performance at the Poetry Festival at Round Top (see sidebar). I leave Wednesday (tomorrow), will be on Texas A&M's campus during the day Thursday, and will be in Round Top Thursday night through Sunday afternoon. I return to Bryan to feature at Mic Check at Revolution Cafe Sunday night. I'm on a plane early Monday morning to return to New Hampshire via Boston.

I will write interesting stuff about the festival. I will take photos. These will be posted upon my return and backdated to their appropriate days and times. If you check this blog daily, however, you'll be out of luck for a little while. I will have my iPod Touch with me and thus the ability to check email, but there's no way I'm writing extended monologues/conversations on that thing (hint hint to Apple - give us a physical keyboard accessory).

Oh, and one more thing:

Tardiness and Tone

OK, the tardiness one: I will respond to Karin and Mairi's comments tomorrow. Have little time on the internet today.

The tardiness two: just realized that I've missed posting poems (the bonus posts) twice now. Have been revising instead of writing new stuff for two days. Will try to resume that on Monday as well.

The tone: A question about Good Friday (which I'm tardy in noting): What's the appropriate tone to take for stories of Good Friday? Easter and Christmas are easy - celebratory. But Good Friday is a tough one. It's sad - somebody dies. But we all know that the death isn't going to last. It's not even the movie where you're pretty sure the hero's not actually dead. It's the movie where you got to read the spoilers that said the hero's not actually dead. Or at least coming back. I'm not trying to be flippant with the Christian faith here. I recently made a comment on Facebook to the effect that I'm often heretical but rarely blasphemous. My question is a serious one for writers, even if phrased a bit awkwardly due to limited time available to me at the moment. I wonder if GF should be more like Thanksgiving. Or at least, instead of being a sad day, one of quiet appreciation. Of course, then we'd have to write quiet appreciation instead of sadness, and the latter's far less subtle.

Other holidays, holy days, secular days, or times in general that are difficult to pin down an appropriate tone?

NaPoWriMo Elsewhere

I'm doing this two-post-per-day thing, but there are a handful of folks who I'm also checking out daily (usually thanks to the ease of an RSS feed, but I'll visit their blogs on my own regardless):

Oscar Bermeo has an ongoing series titled "Anything to Declare?" that is worth comparing and contrasting (I think his interesting subtitle for each piece - Version x - asks for a compare and contrast).

Karin Gottshall runs Cafe Babblecat, which remains one of my favorite blogs to pop in at. I like the combination of poetry bits (the mouse poems in particular are great), little memoirish notes, crazy games, and photography experimental and traditional.

Lindsay Penelope Illich has a number of "Evening Poems," most dealing with motherhood. She's got some polls up asking for opinions on possible titles for 14 of them right now. A good read - take the time.

Of course you can look at my profile to see whose blogs I follow, but these are three folks I wanted to highlight briefly for poetry or otherwise creative writing that I've been enjoying on a daily basis.

Advertising drove me to Poetry

The gap between my last post and this one is perhaps the longest since I've started blogging. I have several things I'd like to post about, but the "20 books that made you fall in love with poetry" game that's been going around the blogosphere has been weighing on my mind. Once I get this off my chest, I should be able to write those other, probably more interesting posts.

Here's the thing: I don't have 20 books that made me fall in love with poetry/Poetry. It only took three authors to make me fall in love with it. One, Shakespeare. Two, EE Cummings. Three, an ex-girlfriend who wrote a lot. This was all in high school. Anybody I read after that added to my knowledge or gave me new ideas or became a particular poet whose work I loved, but it only took these three to give me the bug.

More importantly than that, even, is why I decided to become a poet. I wrote, as many children do, ditties and song lyrics as a young'un, rhymes to sing-song in time with a swing or teeter-totter. They were crap, as most of these things are. In high school, influenced particularly by Cummings, I tried to blend form and content. If I wrote about two people from opposite sides of the tracks, I'd have the lines going in different directions on the page, mirroring each other. But this was just something to do in my free time, to show one or two other people. Even entering and winning a poetry contest (READ magazine) my senior year was due primarily to the encouragement of my English teacher, Mr. Murawski. I had no intention of BEING a poet.

The summer after my freshman year of college, I interned at a major advertising firm. I worked with words every day, copywriting. In a set number of words, we had to influence people, create a particular emotion or association, a longing for a product or lifestyle. I learned far more than I contributed during that time, and when I was done, I was no longer a historian who happened to like words. I was a poet who really liked history. This was as much a rejection of the advertising world as it was an embrace of Poetry. I (somewhat naively) made a decision that I did not want to use any verbal talent I had to get people to blindly accept what I was telling them. That's propaganda, advertising, reducing consciousness.

I chose poetry because it did the opposite of what we were doing as a firm - it forced people to think, to question. Sears, Jim Beam, Pokemon, Star Wars, Taco Bell. These are the things that cemented my love for Poetry.

Out of Sequence

Kate and I went to a local bar called the Press Room on Saturday to listen to a 14 piece band play music from the Depression. As in "Brother Can You Spare A Dime" and "One Meatball." It was great. We then watched Springsteen rock the Superbowl halftime show (on TV).

Every kid who wants to grow up to be a musician/singer/rockstar needs to watch Springsteen live and listen to a good jazz band interpret old songs. This weekend was an exercise in letting the music/performance flow through you - you might not get every note right, but good gods you're having such a great time up there that it's no longer about ego, even as your body is the instrument through which people are entertained/moved.

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I will go back and comment on the ordering of those four poems from a couple posts back. Promise.

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Anybody else out there have songs that just kill other songs for you? If I put my whole collection on shuffle and end up listening to, for instance, The Cranberries' "Zombie," I just can't listen to anything light and poppy afterwards for a good long while. That particular song is just so intense and dark and "real" that most other contemporary music feels like some kind of betrayal to listen to.

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No. No you're not.

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At poetry slams, there's an effect whereby one poet can draft another's energy, but it only lasts so long. For example, the first poet up does a funny poem. The second does a funny poem as well, one that is just about as good or better than the previous, and the audience reaction is better than if the second poem were a one-off. This drafting effect can go three, four poems at the most before there is almost invariably a downturn in energy and the poem-topic/style has to shift or suffer the increasing wrath of the audience.

I realize now that I designed certain poems like "ADD TV" to be draft-breakers. It's so unlike most of what I'd see on stage that it would break the slam's momentum. It's not an easy poem to follow insofar as the next poet can't go "Ah, I've got something funnier than that poem's funny parts" or "I've got something that refers to pop culture in more ways than that poem." At the same time, it's not "Zombie." Nobody is left feeling as though they would be wrong in trying to top it somehow.

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Mike Guinn has a poem that begins "There will be no more funny poems tonight" and goes on to describe some of the horrible things he witnessed as a social worker. It often works. All other poets are afraid/respectful enough of what he says to not try to be funny on that same stage.

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When Springsteen took the stage at halftime, did the physical presence of a stage matter as far as his owning the space? I mean, if he had just rocked out on the grass, would we have reacted as strongly to him? I mean, not because that's an inappropriate place to play rock and roll, but because it would have appeared to be on loan to him? Or did he channel energy such that he could have taken over any space in which he played?

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[This space reserved]

Er, hello?

So I just published quite a long entry. Had images and everything, and I really don't want to recreate it. It immediately came up in my feed reader (Google Reader), but it's not showing up on the blog. Anybody else subscribe to A Piecemeal Poet(ry) get the feed but can't see the post here?

EDIT: Got it. The post was being published, for whatever reason, with a date in last November. Thus, it existed, but was immediately archived. It's back in the proper place/time now.

Read on and, ah, beware the wormhole.

Bouncing through Blogland, or, Yes, No, Yes

I regularly read C. Dale Young's blog, which in its last entry linked to Reb Livingston's blog, which was commented on and linked to in Andrew Shield's blog.

First off, a big yes to Livingston's post about Elizabeth Alexander's poem. It was an intentionally small part of a very big day, and the day wasn't about poetry. Poetry was a supporting cast member. Poetry will not be up for best supporting actor/actress. Move on.

Second off, a big no to Shields' comment that

contemporary poets don't stand a chance when reading their work before or after politicians or preachers. But I also noticed that both Obama and Lowery are not shy of being *orators*, while EA (like just about any contemporary poet who might have accepted the gig) completely avoids anything "oratorical" in her presentation.

It's not contemporary poets who don't stand a chance when reading before or after politicians or preachers. It's poets who actively avoid reading before the public and even look down their nose a bit at such an activity. I won't even say academic poets, which is where some of my colleagues (academic and bar-bound) would draw the line. I've heard poets in the academy who can read/recite quite well: Nikki Giovanni, Stan Sanvel Rubin, Philip Levine, Sylvia Plath (holy shit does her reading of "Fever 103°" put a chill up the spine), Gary Snyder, Christine Hume. I'm not saying you have to like these poets or their work (Levine, for example, is a one-hit wonder, and Giovanni writes absolute drivel). But they can all read and not just keep an audience's attention - they draw the audience increasingly to themselves as they read. This of course leaves out contemporary poets known in large part due to their excellent performances/readings: Patricia Smith (who has straddled the page/stage divide like no other), Tracie Morris, Taylor Mali, etc. Again, maybe you, dear reader, don't like these particular poets, but they are contemporary, and they rivet listeners.

Third, and on the other hand, I really like the conversation taking place here on Shields' blog about the possibility of conversation among poets of differing aesthetics. The use of musicians as a metaphor is likely a good one, and I'm going to keep track of the various posters as they refine that metaphor into (hopefully) increasingly useful distinctions. Also, he brings in Borges in a smart way, and that always makes me happy.

Bad Videogame Cover Art & My First Spammer

Well, boys and girls, apparently posting about the RNC CD debacle got me my first spammer. Congratulations to Jackpot - your comment has been deleted.

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I sent this link to my friend Jeremy once upon a time. The whole series of bad videogame cover art posts from 1UP.com is pretty funny, but this bit in particular made us laugh aloud. First, the cover for Cowboy Kid:


And then part of the commentary from Scott Sharkey:

I hate pointing out when things look gay -- but, yeah, this looks pretty gay. Not the unacceptable "gay as a synonym for bad" kind of gay. I mean that the men pictured here are having sex with each other. They're the gayest gays that ever gayed a gay. And that's all right. Totally acceptable. It's a lifestyle choice that should in no way impede them in their pursuit of careers in the fields of moustache-having and being-a-racial-stereotype.

In a field that is too often filled with "that's so gay," I love seeing an piece of writing that hits so smartly. First, it sets you up to think it'll be the typical "oh noes teh ghey" kind of post. Then it steps back to differentiate between acceptable and unacceptable uses of the term. Which leaves you, momentarily, in a bit of a conundrum - is he still going to attack homosexuality? Then you get the verbal hilarity of "gayest gays that ever gayed a gay." Note that we're still up in the air over whether or not this is going to be homophobic or not. And then he manages to wrap up with the crack about being-a-racial-stereotype, which reveals the whole item to be not only progressive, but aware on several sociopolitical levels. All in a one-paragraph mockery of a videogame box cover.

Breadcrumbs

A pair of nearing-end-of-year requests:

1) If you read this blog regularly, either checking in from time to time or using the RSS feed, would you be so kind as to follow it? Follow is a specific Blogger activity. There's a widget over on the right side of the page that lets you "follow" this thing. You can do so anonymously, but it'll help give me an idea how many people are actually tuning in. That's the minor request, as it merely relates to my ego.

2) Several people have called or emailed me with requests for posting topics. Looking at my labels, it would appear that I post on poetry, visual art, and video games most often. Anything specific under those categories you want to see? Any new areas? This is a more major request. It's not like I've run out of things to blog about, and in fact may blog more regularly in the coming year, but part of the point of a blog is interactivity. It's not just a series of essays or me blathering onto the internet. The larger discussions of late are encouraging. Try me :-)

Implications of Sky and other posts

We have power again, just no hot water. Don't ask. There are people in far worse condition, so I'm not complaining. Had ideas for several blog posts / interesting moments over the few days without internet access, which I recap (but do not reprint in full) now:

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"In Absentia" was released on Indiefeed's Performance Poetry podcast this morning. Nice timing. And a nice outro by Mongo. :-)

I need to start putting together a set list for the shows I'm giving next year. New pieces to add to the lineup present on Arts & Crafts: "A priest, a minister, and a rabbi," "Mabel's Cards" (improv structure), "Why [name of other poet] is going home with somebody tonight and I'm not," "The Magician and the Mice," "M.B.F.T.M.I.W.O.K.T.T.T.P (My Black Friend Told Me It Was OK To Tell This Poem)" (for Crystal), and "Shirts and Skins." Perhaps a few others.

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An old man in a wheelchair trying to remain relevant.

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Kate saying "garbanzicide" in reference to eating a tasty bean dish.

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I'm fascinated by the differences between evergreen trees covered in snow and in ice.

Snow carries with it implications of sky, as though the trees might shake themselves off like dogs and the flakes fly upwards. Despite collecting in piles, snow is individualized, faceted, like diamond(s). You know it's cold, but it is also soft. Snow gives.

When a tree glazes over with ice, all things point downwards. The weight is not like snow, which can be divested. It is a permanence even though we know it will also melt. It is singular, unceasing. Because it is so much like liquid water, there is the fearful sense that if we touch one of the branches, we too would be pulled inside. Ice takes - see the sunlight it amplifies and runs along a branch?

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I don't think about the dark in the dark. I'm thinking about what things would look like if they could be seen, or what they feel like regardless, or what they sound like. The dark is not quite a blank slate for my impressions - but when it is present, I'm trying to move beyond it. On the other hand, when the heat shuts off, as it did, cold is present. Cold cannot be negotiated with, only held back by blankets other warm bodies. When I try to find something that is not-cold, it isn't like my search for not-dark. It is a struggle against an active rather than passive adversary.