1. Among today’s many highlights: Kit Carson books at the rare books and manscripts room at the public library. Oh, how I love stacks. Take my love of stacks and multiply it by ten: that is my love for rare book rooms. I looked at “biographies” of Kit Carson, ranging from 1860 to 1903. I learned the following utterly untrue things about Kit Carson: he is the grandson of Daniel Boone; he was chased up a tree by a grizzly bear and spent the night there, hitting the bear on the nose with a switch from the tree anytime it got too close; he brokered a peace deal between the Sioux and Comanche, precluding a war entirely; in a mission to retrieve six stolen horses from a thieving injun, he went off on his own, found the man and, riding at full speed, killed the man with one shot, then returned the horses to their rightful owner.
2. Emmett’s first day at daycare. And by day I mean three hours this morning. He had a great time. Not so appreciative, apparently, of having a sock put on his hand so he could paint. Not surprising: he does not like when something is on his hand, especially if it is his right hand, where he keeps his sucking fingers. And he didn’t like being strapped into a high chair. Also not surprising: he probably wanted to be in the thick of everything.
3. Lunch with Kelly and her friend Rob. Hamburger. Nom nom.
4. Hubby and I both have poems forthcoming in internet journals. Look out, poetry world, the Boyles are coming!
1. Quarterly taxes paid. I’m really, really hoping that I’m gonna see some of that money again cone tax return season. Cuz I’m pretty sure my freelancing is not netting me nearly the money this year that it did last year. But! Paid! And we remain in the black!
2. Met more neighbors. Emmett is so friendly. If it weren’t for him we would only know the neighbors I’ve known since I lived here the first time. So he spent the evening chasing after kids and puppies and throwing balls and boy was he upset when it was time to go.
3. Got some poems accepted somewhere. !!! Now just to wait for January for them to actually show up in the world.
Isabella Rossellini on bee sex:
I would fly after her. I would mate her in flight. It’s our nuptial flight. But pulling out from her—oooh—my penis would break off. it would get stuck in her vagina like a cork in a bottle. —from “Bee,” in Green Porno.
Nick Flynn (who also wrote Some Ether, which was awesome) on bee sex:
… First she will kill
the other virgins, those
unborn, a spike
to the head, then lead us into a cloud
& fuck us in the air. Spacious
inside her, the root breaks off
to pump forever there. —from “Drones,” in Blind Huber.
I don’t think it needs much elaboration who did a better job with the bee sex. Yeah.
Who says meh?
When Jeff and I were in Marie Howe’s poetry workshop, perhaps our first workshop with her, Marie had us each write down three words we loved. Or something like that. And then we shared those words. One of Jeff’s words was “meh.” Marie hated that word. If you’ve ever interacted with Marie, you can imagine the drama with which she hated Jeff’s “meh.” The overemphasis on “hate,” the eyes rolling back in the head, the physical enactment of her skin crawling.
So, fast forward to today, when we have this “chunky flap book” for Emmett called Open the Barn Door. Every time we get to the goat, I think of Marie. Also, I don’t think the goat bleats “meeeeeeh” so much as simply shrugs his goat shoulders and says “meh.” So that’s how I say it. Emmett’s gonna think goats are so blase.