FREE WILL ASTROLOGY--ROB BREZNY

CANCER (June 21-July 22): The world record for attaching clothespins to
one's face is 153. Even if you're tempted to surpass that mark, I beg you
not to. Inflicting pain on yourself in order to impress someone or prove a
point is never a good idea, but it's an especially misguided notion right
now. I wouldn't object, however, if you did the opposite, which is to
barrage yourself with pleasure in order to impress someone or prove a
point. In my astrological opinion, it's a perfect time to intensify your
commitment to making yourself feel good. This is true for many reasons,
but here's one of the most important ones: It will have a magically tonic
effect on your relationships with others.

Two poems are coming out soon in qarttsiluni. For me, this is very exciting--these two go together in my mind, anyway.

I applied to the Kentucky Women's Writers Conference. I hope I get in.

From Writer's Almanac, July 29, 2008: Stanley Kunitz

It's the birthday of the poet Stanley Kunitz, born in Worcester, Massachusetts, in 1905. He attended Harvard University, where he wanted to teach in the English department, but he was told that Anglo-Saxon students wouldn't want to be taught by a Jew. He said, "That almost broke my heart. And I think in the end it probably did me a great favor because it prevented me from becoming a completely preoccupied scholar." He went on to work as a farmer, and he served in WWII when his conscientious objector status was denied.

Stanley Kunitz published his first book of poetry when he was 25, called Intellectual Things (1930), and he continued to write and publish for 75 years. In 2000, he published The Collected Poems of Stanley Kunitz, and that same year he was named poet laureate of the United States, when he was 95 years old, He died at age 100.

Stanley Kunitz said, "Poetry is inseparable from my life force, and that began very early. It was a great gift, and it has sustained me through the years, and the losses that have attended those years."

He said, "The poem comes in the form of a blessing, like the rapture breaking through on the mind."

And, "Old myths, old gods, old heroes have never died. They are only sleeping at the bottom of our mind, waiting for our call. We have need for them. They represent the wisdom of our race."

First Day Back to Work Post Sewanee

And I've been meme'd. Consider yourself tagged...

As an adult, the following selections have influenced or impacted me the most...

Book: Lolita, which completely changed my notion of lyric prose.

Film: Rivers and Tides, which completely changed the way I teach.

Music: B-52's, because sometimes you need a kick in the ass to get motivated, and "Love Shack" has always been one of mine.

Back from Sewanee and Points Southward

I have many, many things to say about Sewanee and my experiences there and in Chattanooga afterward, but let me unpack my Samsonite and assemble my thoughts. I have missed all of your blogs very much.

Here are three things that were wonderful:

(1) Tim O'Brien's reading. 150 people were in tears.
(2) Daniel Anderson/Andrew Hudgins. No one in our workshop was in tears, although we did dissect several poems, including mine.
(3) Mark Jarman's craft lecture on Chase Twichell. I came away with the fact that her poems are haloed, and maybe she herself is headed for beatification.

Here are three things that were not so wonderful:

(1) Heat/cold/heat. I missed Kentucky's wet-blanket humidity.
(2) Homesickness. I felt like Dorothy longing for Auntie Em. That's the longest I've ever been away from my husband and child. I never expected to crave their presence.
(3) Haughtiness (the attitudes of some of my fellow conferees. See Donna Trussell's excellent post on this very subject).

Here are three surprisingly friendly people:

(1) Jill McCorkle.
(2) Tim O'Brien.
(3) Greg Williamson.

Here are three details:

(1) Mark Strand has the best posture I've ever seen(and glasses like Bullwinkle's Mr. Peabody). There was also a Sherman in his workshop.
(2) I identified 23 different kinds of birds, 42 different varieties of bugs (none thankfully in Benedict, where I stayed), and a huge copperhead (also not thankfully in Benedict).
(3) The Celtic crosses in the Sewanee cemetery are lichenously beautiful.

Pictures to follow of all these...

Packing Now

They say it's your birthday...

Thanks to Jilly at Poetry Hut Blog for the link above. This made my day!

The writer Aidan Higgins tells the story of being a teenager in Dublin in the 1930s. One day he saw W.B. Yeats on the street and, awed and intrigued, followed Yeats as the great man, a Nobel Prize winner, went about his business. He ended up following Yeats into a movie theatre where Yeats enjoyed a silly western about cowboys, varmints and horse thieves.

As it turned out, while he was writing some of the defining poems of the 20th century - "And what rough beast, its hour come round at last/ Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?" - the great poet was also an aficionado of westerns. He enjoyed horse operas at the movies and read voraciously pulp western novels about gunslingers and shootouts at the corral. In fact, it is reported that Yeats's dying words, to his wife Georgina, were, "Get the sheriff, George!"

The Greatest Match I've Ever Seen: Wimbledon 2008

I'm a huge Nadal fan, yet I'm so happy that Federer fought back in the tiebreaks. I saw Borg-McEnroe and this match was much, much better. This is a rivalry for the ages, and the two were both as gracious as opponents can be. Sport at its finest, folks, sport at its finest.

I can't wait till the US Open. I predict it may be Federer's to lose, yet Roddick (long shot) and Djokavic are real threats, and I will never ever count Nadal out of a tournament. So much depends on the draw.

I really enjoyed watching Venus' pterydactal wingspan as she won Wimbledon, too. I look forward to seeing Serena get her revenge on hardcourt--don't count out Sharapova.

Rocket's Red Glare...Miss Firecracker

Happy July 4! I hope soon that America can celebrate a real Independence Day with this devastating war ended, and liberty and justice for all extending to all.

Early Fall News: I celebrated my first week of retirement by taking on a last-minute Humanities class for the fall. If the enrollment fills for this add-on, I'll get to lecture about the Western and Eastern Hemispheres---how fun will that be? The class will have an enrollment of greater than 25, so it's a true lecture situation.

Early Birthday News: We also took on a dog. We now have a golden Lab puppy. He's 10 weeks and so beautiful and smart--housebroken in 4 days and adjusting well to the outside world without damaging the garden (there's a dog door for a quick escape when he's tired of my fawning all over him). If you give him a stick he won't even chew anything, although I did catch him eyeing my new 9 West sandals. We named the puppy Banjo because he is so darned fast when he skids, just like a a picker's claw across a banjo's fret. I'll post pictures soon and also post the day lilies and the pole beans. (I may write a poem called Kentucky Wonder. Surely that title's been used before...I am afraid to google it in case it stops this poem pouring out).

Switching Genre News: I think my husband's jealous of the dog, because, after 21 years of marriage, Harvey's finally written me a poem--and it's freakin' good, besides being sly and sexy and not a whit sentimental except for the title. (It's too private to post till I have his permission).

Tennis News: I never noticed that Nadal has a dimple so deep one might sink a nickel into its depths.

Free Will Astrology

CANCER (June 21-July 22): It's Beautify Yourself Week, dear Cancerian. A
conspiracy of cosmic proportions is preparing the conditions necessary
for you to capitalize handsomely on this opportunity. At this very
moment, there is beauty behind you and beauty in front of you. There is
beauty to your left and beauty to your right, beauty above you and
beauty below you. All you have to do is inhale, drink in, and otherwise
suck up this lushness. It will interact synergistically with the splendor that
is also welling up in you, and you will transform into an almost unbearably
gorgeous work of art.

All I can process is suck it up.