My birthday. I went to Market of Choice for coffee and to read Pico Iyer, Sun After Dark. Market of Choice is a good place to drink a cup of coffee in the morning. It is warm, first of all. You do not have to wear a coat when you drink a cup of coffee in Market of Choice. It’s clean and the chairs are comfortable. There is no loud […]
Tag Archive for ‘Alison Clement’
I used to try to get everything just perfect before I moved on in a novel. This is an obsessive/compulsive type impulse and must, I believe, be resisted. For one thing, nothing is ever perfect. This approach is a way to get stuck. It is a way to forget your story, to lose the forest for the sake a tree or, even, a single branch.
I began with a diary. Dear Diary. It was black and shiny and had a key that locked. I’ve kept journals, off and on, since then. During my teens and early twenties, I kept dream journals, too. I once lived with a violent, nonverbal man. When I broke up with him, I collected all the dreams I had had of him, since the first day we met, and bound them […]
Somebody bought the mountain above Yachats and cut down all the trees. The mountain is what gave the town its name. Ya-chats, an Indian word. At the the foot of the mountain. Not at the foot of the clearcut. People in the laundramat said it was a producer from Los Angeles who did it. The producer had a fellow who lived up there on the mountain, the caretaker, a […]
Indries Shah says we have forgotten how to listen to stories. Do you remember reading stories as a child? I want to read like that again, like nothing else matters. I grew up near a small woods in Greenville, South Carolina. I played there everyday, almost always alone. That was before everyone was afraid and stopped letting their little girls go off by themselves. When I started Catholic school in […]
Our Sunday poem. This is by my friend, Peter Sears. I think it’s a good one for today. 9/11. The poem is taken from Peter’s book, Green Diver. Cover art by Rick Bartow. Purchase Peter’s book here, and if you are ever lucky enough to get a chance to hear him read, do it. The Iraqi Women From an article in “The Oregonian,” 07/05/06, A-5 The parking lot is filling […]
The plums are ripe and summer is over. I am back at work. Chuck has made a studio for me, a room in the back yard near the garden, so I have a place to write. I would rather write about my life than live it. That is a terrible thing to admit. Oh, today is Tuesday already. What happened to Sunday, poetry day on my blog? I am trying […]
In The Art of Fiction David Lodge talks about the refusal of Paul Eluard, then one of the world’s most renowned Communist poets, to intervene on behalf of his friend, Zavis Kalandra, a surrealist who was executed by the new, revolutionary Czech government. Lodge tells about Milan Kundera describing a day in June of 1950 when the ‘streets of Prague were once again ‘crowded with young people dancing….’ The day […]
Is it pathetic that, aside from two older women at the table next to me (who are talking about poetry), every single person in this coffeehouse is on a laptop? Or are the rest of them, like me, tired of working alone in their houses and simply wishing for some semblance of companionship?