Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Supple Me

These last two moths have been very surreal and difficult. My father died (I come from a small family and we are quite close), my son was born, I stopped working at one job and began staying home to take care of Painter (the baby), while the other job I had closed down, rendering me completely unemployed. Also, my little brother is horrible ill with chronic sinusitis, most likely related to Toxic Mold Poisoning from an old house he lived in for awhile. In addition to all of this, my publishing has hit it's worst slump since I started submitting to various presses. I've been receiving rejection after rejection, daily, since almost exactly the day Painter was born. At least rejections are better than no response at all. That drives you mad.

resilience (n)

pliability, flexibility, elasticity, suppleness, bounciness, springiness

Antonym: rigidity

spirit, hardiness, toughness, strength, buoyancy, resistance

Antonym: defeatism

So, in general, I'm a mess. I somehow feel sad, dejected, elated, deflated, crushed, injected, proud, horrified, empathetic, sympathetic, pathetic, and like I've just woken up on one of those revolving doors that they use for hotel entrances.

On a side note, I started a poetry group accessible from my main page. Here's a link for anyone interested: The Succrestar Ltd. The name is an old in-joke between some friends and myself, but doesn't entirely matter. There are 3 members so far, but it's early and I did invite a few others.

Well, I'm home alone right now and Painter just woke up. Plus, I have poems to write and a play to finish typing. I'll update soon.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

On the Death of My Father

Much has happened in the last week. It would be improper to believe I can word it in a way that could do the last week's happenings any proper description...

My dad died Thursday, the 17th of March. I found out at 8:30 in the morning and we drove up to the island in Washington that he and my mother live on.

I will probably need to write more here on this happening, as his death will affect me more and more strongly. It's how I deal with things. Slowly.

I can only say now that it doesn't seem possible or real, and I miss him painfully. He was 48 and died because his liver couldn't handle the medication he took that morning.

I'd like to post a picture, for myself more than anyone else:

My dad and son.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Owing to the nature of parenting and my highly organizational way of life, I've decided to post a few of the uncountable pictures Maisy and I have already taken. Painter has now seen more cameras than Brad Pitt.
Various Pictures:


"Get that fu*king camera out of my face."

this is a witty caption.

I have my own family?!

Watching a 'B' horror movie (I'm angry because I actually paid money to rent this thing).

Parenthood (ongoing) part 5

Okay- Time for an update.

Painter is doing great. He's gained the appropriate amount of weight for his size and is pretty mild-mannered. He doesn't cry much and seems to enjoy hanging out more than anything. He's abnormally strong and is already trying to roll over and crawl. I've got footage of it because I know no one will believe me. We take him out in public a lot and he seems to be doing fine with everything. He likes cold air, too. The only problem with going out is that you get hounded by the Baby People. You know, those people that, while they're strangers, have no problem coming up to you and wanting to see your baby. Then they croon to it and are really talkative and pretty much just stand there in front of you loving the baby. They're okay, but it still takes up a lot of our outside time and mostly, I have no idea what to say to satisfy them so they'll move on. Also, I'm already getting tired of having to explain and/or defend why the baby's name is Painter. There is no reason. We have a lot of painter friends. We liked it. We came up with it long before we decided to have a baby. They say that's bad luck, but that's just an old wives tale. You run into lots of wives tales when you have a baby. Things various people will tell you are sure-fire remedies, or ridiculous bits of information that supposedly really work, like a heads-up penny is good luck, heartburn while pregnant means the baby will have lots of hair, or the electoral college.

My publishing campaign has thrown a shoe lately. I'm not sure what happened. I was receiving a lot of responses up until about three weeks ago, then nothing. The mailbox is empty now. I don't get anything, rejections, acceptances, maybes... nothing. It's confusing because there are so many of them that haven't gotten back to me yet, and I've never had so many publications past due on their stated response periods at one time. I prefer rejections to uncertainty. Well, who wouldn't? But, I'll hear something back soon.

A lot has happened since the last entry... Let's see: We got out of the hospital finally, were there for six days. Maisy had a C-section, which put her out of commission until very recently. Painter is almost a month old. Maisy had her 24th birthday on the 27th of February. I got a proposition while we were still in the hospital from an editor involving my poetical fugue theory (Kunst Der Fuge has it, there's a link on my main page). Basically, I emailed Florentin Smarandache the link and asked if he wouldn't mind taking a look at it. He's the editor of Paradoxism, and also a well-known professor of mathematics. My fugue theory deals heavily with mathematics and some rather intensive formatting (recursion, voice extension, lots of metrical devices that play out systematically in their own variable habits...). He liked it and asked me to write an essay linking it to the paradoxist art movement. Well, that was the day my son had been born, so I put it off for a week, but eventually wrote it. I hadn't written an essay in over a decade and even back then, I always made-up my sources and lied my way through it. But, I'm all grown up now so I figured out what to do and wrote the essay. He agreed to publish it in his 5th International Anthology of Paradoxism. Essays are an entirely different world than poems. I had a tough time with it, but I suppose everything worked out.

In addition to the Fat Tuesday group on Yahoo!, I was invited to join the First Step Press group, and yesterday joined the group for NetAuthor. Let's see, the last rejection I got was from here in Oregon. Oregon is proving to be my curse. I can't get any footing here at all. Just about everything in Oregon has rejected me. The Jefferson Monthly picked up one of my poems, but they're not a writing or poetry magazine. However, they ARE in Oregon. I'm still waiting to hear back from the Northwest Review out of Eugene.

Also, people should go check out Elijah Brubaker and Alissa Nielsen set it up to highlight some of their good work. These kids are beautiful. Go look.

Just about finished with my new main page. I should be able to set it online in about two or three days. It's more graphic than my current one, and it will help to remove some of that bloggy look so many blogsites have now. Don't get me wrong, I'm really pleased with blogspot at this point, I just don't want to be a template-baby anymore. Everybody's site looks like mine, vice versa. All of the templates are popular.

That's it for now. Actually, that's not it, but that's all I'm saying for now. I'll throw a few pictures in.

The Good, The Bad, and the Clerically Ill (ongoing) Part 2

New news- From now on, irresponse gives one points toward the Clerically Ill, also, undeliverable mail and publications that crash out don't qualify for the list. Neither do acceptances.

The Good: Greg Edwards @ Naked Knuckle. His rejection was sizeable, handwritten, informative and he actually asked I don't rip-up his magazine in this list. Well, it was a good rejection Greg, no worries. This was probably my kindest rejection yet.

The Bad: Vicki Goldsberry Colker @ C/Oasis. Never received a response, neither to my submission in the time they stated, nor during the four months after, nor in the two further weeks my notice of impending rescinsion gave them.

The Clerically Ill: Mira Rosethal, Heather Bigley @ Lyric Poetry Review. This response stated that LPR isn't currently accepting because they only want english translations of polish poetry. Their listing stated the contrary, year-round reading, send your best, etc... with occasional themes. It's a little agitating to waste postage on a publication that changes their reading period, or goes on 'poetry hiatus', or whatnot after placing an ad or listing their market differently, as annoying as when they change their themes or what they generally accept. This is all fine, just make it coincide with your advertising, you know? They'll open back up to other poetry in January 2006.

Well that's it, the new three. I'll update as needed.