DC United v Chivas USA


We purchased a deal on tickets for the Wednesday DC United home game. To add a little spice/nostalgia/internal conflict/wistfulness to the whole proceedings, their competition is Chivas USA – the team I rooted for during my years in Los Angeles.

I won’t be wearing my red Chivas shirt, of course. I was a United fan long before I ever saw Los Angeles and I’m a Washingtonian now.

But one can’t help but feel a little torn, especially since each team is clinging to thin playoff hopes and a tie won’t do it for either team. I have to hope for a crushing victory by United (which they got some nine days ago, when they hammered the Goats 3-0 in California).

Go DC!

One Last Farewell


This will be the last weekend of Borders existence. Then it’s gone.

I will be out of town this weekend, so no chance to make my good byes, so to speak.

Fortunately, I know of a little indie bookstore right near where we’re going. That’s always a better choice anyway.

Another attempt to answer What went wrong?

Ezra Pound: Canto LVII


Perhaps it is my limited understanding of Chinese history. I know where incidents in the Italian renaissance fit into the larger story of western civilization. I cannot say that I understand how events in Chinese history fit into a larger narrative.

But, to make some vaguely useful comment on this particular Canto, he shows some particular enmity towards the eunuch or the ‘castrat.’ They seem especial villains here.

Seeing as how Pound rarely wrote of love or intimacy, it seems odd that these figures would be the target of such prominent dislike. Unless he was uncomfortable with sexuality and eunuchs reminded him of sex by the very absence of theirs.

I can’t say. Truly I don’t know enough about his personal history here to say with anything like certainty.

Inscribed Books


While helping out at an craft fair, I moseyed on down to used bookstore down the street, Idle Time Books.

Idle Time tends to be on the expensive side for a used bookstore, but they also more hard to find and even rare books, so you’re paying more for quality often.

They also have a rack outside: paperbacks for a 50 cents and hardbacks for a dollar.

Not that I haven’t bought too many books lately, not that I’m not way behind on my reading (I just last night finished A Dance with Dragons, which predictably ended on a cliffhanger that won’t be resolved for another five years). It’s more that I have a deep, pathological problem.

So, for 50 cents, I bought The Seven Storey Mountain.

Inside the front cover, was an inscription covering the entire page:

Dearest Patti,
This may look like a plain old fashioned paperback book – but is so much more than that. 
   Merton has something very precious, something I can only hope to feel Someday, but something so wonderful that I want to share it with you. And that’s why today – Sept. 19, 1965 – has been so extra-special: being able to share so much with you and Claire – and I know that I am truly the luckiest person ever.
   Gosh – with you for a sister and Claire too –
                    well, I’ve reached the point where words don’t come out right at all.
   So what does come out is Thank you so much, just for being you.
                                                                                                                Much love,
                                                                                                                        Kathy 

Of course, the  forty-sixth anniversary of this inscription will be on Monday.

(Relatively) Recent Books of Poetry Worth Looking Up


Seth Abramson tends to divide opinion.

He’s sort of the anti-Anis Shivani.

If Shivani’s role in the intellectual ecology of poetry is to be a blowhard a–hole and bomb throwing provocateur, then Abramson is the ultimate defender of the status quo – the status quo, in this case, being the importance of MFA programs in the aforementioned intellectual ecology of poetry.

However, at least both write with some regularity about contemporary poetry in more or less prominent venues. God knows poetry needs people with the means and desire to do so.

God knows a blogger-cum-poet-cum-activist with a blog whose reach extends not far beyond his own family doesn’t meet that criteria.

But to get back on topic.

Abramson recently posted on the Huffington Post Ten Recent Books of Poetry You Should Read Right Now.

After all of that earlier discussion of provocateurs versus defenders of the established order and intellectual ecologies, this is all just a misbegotten excuse to post my own top ten.

I know. Ugh. But here it is (in no particular order):

Charles Wright, Sestets: Poems
I was not a Wright fan until I heard him read at the Folger Shakespeare Library and heard his recent work. To me, he was sort of a Merwin-lite, which is like Corona Light. Really – what’s the point? Is Corona such a heavy brew that we need a watered down equivalent? But what Wright is doing these days just impresses the heck out of me. Sestets: Poems keeps some of the rawer edge of his contemporary work while working within a single form (the sestet, naturally) for an entire collection.

Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse
I think this was the second or third book by Carson that I read. I know that I bought it while I was living in Iowa. It’s verse novel retelling of the tale of Herakles and the monster Geryon (slain during the accomplishing of Herakles’ seven labors). Geryon, an ugly, monstrous child, teased at school, finds purpose as a gay bohemian artist – a photographer to be exact – whose earlier love affair with Herakles makes his death at his former friend and lover’s hand so much more heart rending. Good stuff. As always, the way the contemporary and the classical intersect in Carson’s work is amazing.

Charles Simic, The World Doesn’t End
This book was from 1990, so it’s beyond the fifteen year limit Abramson set himself, but I think that Simic gets short shrift these days. Yes, he’s tending to repeat himself, but his best work is very, very good. And this is one of his best. It’s also the first book by him I ever read. I was in Montgomery, Alabama and these surrealistic prose poems opened up contemporary poetry for me. The intersection of lightheartedness with undertones of barely held memories of war torn Eastern Europe is still worth appreciating.

Adrienne Rich, An Atlas of the Difficult World: Poems 1988-1991
Adrienne Rich’s style was a huge influence of my writing when I was younger (maybe it still is – certainly the echoes remain). An Atlas of the Difficult World: Poems 1988-1991 and Dark Fields of the Republic: Poems 1991-1995 deeply affected me. I was not necessarily “up” on things like feminist poetics and queer/LGBT poetics, but I could tell something was going on there that was important and that I needed to understand better. I picked Atlas over Dark Fields because the time period it covers was also important for me and my creative and intellectual development. Dark Fields has a cooler title though (it’s from The Great Gatsby – “And as I sat there, brooding on the old, unknown world, I thought of Gatsby’s wonder when he first picked out Daisy’s light at the end of his dock. He had come such a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close he could hardly fail to grasp it. But what he did not know was that it was already behind him, somewhere in the vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.”)

Kim Addonizio, Lucifer at the Starlite
Let’s get something out of the way first. Kim Addonizio is hot. She’s mid-fifties, but looks like mid-thirties. And she looks and talks like she’s living the bohemian dream of a twenty year old lit major dreaming of life as an artist-cum-shaman. And her poetry has that aura of college rebellion and youthful sexual transgression. There’s also a certain shamanistic quality to her writing (it is no surprise that she has also published two books on the creative process). But there is also a Bukowski-esque despairing darkness of the stories in her poems (a lot of narrative poetry in her oeuvre). Of two pack a day failure. She appears to be living the dream, but her poetry often tells of that dream’s failure. Oh, and she is originally from Washington, DC.

Bob McCann, Warehouse
You won’t find this chapbook, I expect. It was self-published by Bob in the early nineties. Frankly, he over edited the titular poem, Warehouse. But listening to him read its various iterations at the weekly poetry group we attended was incredible. It was filled with lines and images that blew away this young would be poet (or poet who was young then; funny to think that I am almost now the same age he was then). I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him in years. I don’t even know if he still lives in St Petersburg, Florida. You’ll find a brief reference to him and to the poem here.

Fanny Howe, Selected Poems
I am not very comfortable including “selected” or “collected” poems in here. It feels like cheating. But when I came across this book, I thought she was something special – someone I should have been reading for years. Howe hit a certain zeitgeist in my life and I’ve got to include it.

Anonymous, Beowulf (tr. by Seamus Heaney)
Heaney, of course, is a Nobel Prize winning Irish poet. Despite myself, I am a fan of his poetry. If I were to name a favorite, it would be his 1979 collection, Field Work. He has a certain hard empirical concreteness (in my mind) to his lilting (what a cliche – to call an Irishman’s literary voice ‘lilting’) lyrical voice. Makes the pastoral touches enjoyable. But his masterwork may not be any of his original works, but his translation of the Anglo-Saxon epic, Beowulf. I bought this book at Chapter 11 Books near the Kroger’s grocery store in midtown Atlanta.

Ted Joans, WOW
Ted Joans meant a lot to me, though I hardly knew him. For a young man in Paris for the first time, what massive figure to meet (I was both young and short [still am short], so it was pretty easy for folks to seem to tower over me). I have to include this, his last (to my knowledge) book. Chapbook really. Read more here.

Abdellatif Laabi, The World’s Embrace: Selected Poems
I was visiting my friend Mike in San Francisco (I was living in Los Angeles at the time) and insisted (of course) on visiting City Lights Bookstore. Upstairs, they have a lovely room devoted to poetry. By chance, I came across this book. Loved it. Had a couple of quibbles with the translation (the translator seemed to translate a particular line without realizing that it was a reference to Baudelaire, so the English didn’t reflect it), but the beauty of the poems comes through. Great way to integrate political sentiment into beautiful, lyrical pieces.

Should We Fight to Save Indie Bookstores?


Yes.

F. Scott Fitzgerald Conference October


Rockville, Maryland, a suburb of Washington, DC (and, incidentally, not far from my office), will be having a conference on the great F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Details here.

Inter Milan


Time for a little soccer digression. The season in Europe has started again and players union strikes in Italy and Spain appear to have been averted.

I root for my home teams – which means I root for DC United in MLS. I don’t have a ‘home’ team in the European leagues, but I do have my preferences.

Inter Milan is not one of them (if you’re curious, I tend to root for Juventus and AS Roma). But I am finding it sad how, since Jose Mourinho left his position there to manage Real Madrid, they keep on hiring new managers who move quickly to mess up a system that was previously working.

Under Mourinho, they played a 4-2-1-3. The ‘1’ was their playmaker and offensive engine, Wesley Sneijder.

When you play with three forwards up front, two of them play as wingers, staying wide and attacking either cutting towards the middle from wide positions or by playing the ball to the central striker from out wide. Mourinho used to strikers who were used to playing centrally in those winger positions, rather than true wide players. This could have been a disaster, but what he did was take away the traditional defensive responsibilities of a winger. Instead of asking them to track back a help out in defense, he tasked them with defending from the front by staying close to the opposition fullbacks, preventing them from joining the attack and keeping Inter’s defensive players from getting overwhelmed by numbers.

After he left, new coach Rafa Benitez immediately demanded that his two wide forwards track back to defend and also made Sneijder play a deeper role.

The result was not only three players playing roles they were ill-suited to play, but their striker left isolated, because the wingers were too far away because they were asked to run back and defend and because the playmaker was pushed back from his place as the link between the midfield and the attack.

So, they stunk.

Rafa was dumped and they started playing formations that, while less tactically innovative than Mourinho’s, kept folks in their comfort zone.

So, now they have brought in Gasperini who likes to play 3-4-3, completely upsetting the balance that been grudgingly achieved as the Rafa disaster.

Their defenders are too slow to play in a three man back lines, the wingbacks (the two outside players in the ‘4’ – you could also call them outside midfielders) are too old manage the physical demands of covering almost the entire sideline alone.

Oh, and there is no room for their offensive engine, Sneijder in this formation, unless he plays centrally, in the ‘4,’ in which case he is asked to defend too much (which his not suited to do, which means his partner in the middle winds up having to do it all, leaving the midfield easy for the opposition to overrun). He can also play wide in the ‘3’ but that is also a complete waste of his talents.

Mourinho had his favored formations, yes. But he also recognized that you must build a game plan based on the players you have and their talents. You can stretch them, adjusting their roles and making them try new things, but you can’t make them do things that they are either totally unsuited to do or that make no use of their true talents. Which is exactly what is happening now.

Fine. Go ahead and screw this up, Inter. I’m rooting for someone else anyway.

New York Times Reviews Some Poetry


Lord be praised, the Times finally reviews a book of poetry not written by Merwin or Collins or some other safe white guy.

I have never read this particular poet (though I will check her out now), but I am just glad to see the paper paying attention to someone new and not just the usual suspects.

Philosophy vs Neuroscience


Consider my posting of this article to be a little shout out to my friend Ryan, who introduced me to the writing of the Churchlands, the reigning power couple in the field of ‘neurophilosophy.’