This is Just to Say,

with much delay, that the potters of Seagrove are the most gracious and precious people I've met in a long time. Not only do they do beautiful work, but they act like they know you already and welcome you and answer inane neophytes' questions with no iota of condescension, even though the questions I asked were the equivalent of asking a writer, "So, it's like, subject and then verb?" I cannot wait to go back and get even more information. I'm happy to report that both the Festival and the Celebration were successful. Do consider buying something from Chris Luther http://www.chrislutherpottery.com/, whose studio burned down last weekend in the midst of festivities, or donating to the Potters' Relief Fund to help him. Also, buy something from any of them. They're all awesome. More to come.

Haiku

For the next two weeks in poetry class, we are working on haiku and a related form, waka, or tanka (5-7-5-7-7). The length gives me the luxury of starting early so I can get the mediocre stuff out before turning in something dazzling. Here's some of the mediocre stuff that I actually like well, but don't find quite "poetic" enough to turn in. Then again, maybe I could just say I'm re-envisioning the haiku.

James Lee Burke is a
beautiful name. Let's say it
again: James Lee Burke.

What if you were the
first man to hear a heart?
Wouldn't you be afraid?

This one has a title: Terms I Forgot for Disconcertingly Long Periods of Time.
Bruschetta. Challenge.
Zodiac. Beside the point.
Posthumous. Candide.


They are really fun to make. It's the kind of thing one can do while waiting in line or something.

Some men fighting in, I think, the Civil War experienced a condition called soldier's heart. Then in World War I, the same condition was called shellshock, in WW II battle fatigue, and now it's post-traumatic stress disorder (or syndrome). What a shame that we're getting less poetic. On the other hand, someone with a good ear renamed dephlogisticated air and called it oxygen. So we're not going altogether downhill.

Everything

1. It seems antioxidants are nothing but vitamins A, C, and E. I feel a little gypped, like it should have been something more mysterious and involved.



2. Singing can treat stomach problems.



3. My editing project taught me a lot of cool Chinese words, and I love how one word in another language can mean a lot in ours. Reminds me of German. Here are just two I learned from editing: shenda- being cautious about greatness; shenshi- being aware of power.



4. I just made some peanut butter brownies from a Mollie Katzen recipe and now have the happy task of finding people to share them.



5. It's Writers' Week! Which means no class, and instead we get to go to seminars and movies and readings. They had the greatest documentary about Andre Dubus. He seemed misogynistic and self-centered and misguided, but I really like the guy and would like to have hung out with him. I'm totally ready to go out and get all his books and everything about him. Tonight is Dusty and Ace, AKA Philip and Clyde, the highlight of any Writers' Week. Can't wait.



6. I had to write a cinquain for Wednesday morning (a poem with 2 syllables in the first line, 4 in the second, 6, 8, 2). So I wrote this:

Barack

Obama is

our president. Not that

I expected anything else,

but wow.

It gave away that I waited until the last minute, but I think it was OK. It's hard to see anything as not OK for a while, because our president can speak without embarrassing us; he even makes me proud.

File Under "Headlines that could be in The Onion but are actually real"

"Sarkozy wants a Paris judge to ban the sale of a voodoo doll of himself" -cnn.com

Know what's good?

Yogurt with honey and cinnamon. The combination was inspired by the vaguely Middle Eastern/ancient origin of all three. It's a little like eating the icing from a cinnamon bun but not, like that icing, sweet enough to make you sick or otherwise remorseful.

I'm thinking of eating exclusively "ancient" foods for a while, meaning ones that are mentioned in old texts, old meaning from a time when nomadism was common and houses were huts and the rest I just can't fathom. It's remarkable how much I'd be allowed: even if I stick to the East, as I always picture "ancient" as meaning all sand and oases as in the Bible and Rumi, I can have dates, figs, pomegranates, grapes, apricots, apples, and surely some other fruits. Lamb, pork, and fish (in theory, but let's be honest, I won't cook any of those). Bread, wine, olives, and olive oil (just those four are enough to hold me for a powerful long time). Yogurt, milk, butter, soft cheeses. I'm coming up short on vegetables, as usual. I could probably have tomatoes. Coconut? Maybe island palms are different from desert palms. Oh, I bet I could have peaches, nectarines, and plums.

I wonder why I'm so into categorizing foods like this, as if there's something better about these than, say, berries of American origin or cheddar cheese as opposed to goat. I think it's just fun and makes me feel smart, even though much of it is guesses ("That seems Middle Eastern, let's throw it in"). I also like the idea of having a diet of roughly this scope: enough choices you wouldn't get bored, but few enough you don't get overwhelmed. They always had a choice (in my idealized, romanticized version), but they never had more than 2 or 3 choices. Sounds nice, because my list of restaurants to go to is starting to look like the shelves of unread books--intimidating and insurmountable. Not to mention the different offerings at each restaurant, or the recipes I haven't tried. Luckily, I do have to eat, so the outlook is a little rosier than for the unread books. A little.

Wish I'd thought of that.

There is something so refreshing and honest about shows, movies, and other media that are clearly built on a very obvious, simple premise, as if dreamed into existence by a roomful of young people with beers. Part of the appeal is that my friends and I could come up with these things. I feel that way about Jaws, Tremors, and I don't know what all else. I'm watching the premiere of Time Warp on the Discovery Channel. All it is is they show cool stuff happening and make it even cooler by slowing it down with a high-speed camera. It's so elementary that I'm surprised it took us (humanity) so long to come up with it. It seems like something they would have done when they invented the high-speed camera. Maybe they did and just didn't televise it. I recommend it for mindless background entertainment.

Yesterday I made some olive and rosemary pancakes. Nothing sweet about them--regular pancakes aren't even that sweet, it's just the syrup, fruit, or sugar you add, but these are even more savory. A Mollie Katzen recipe. It feels so good to try something new. I already made all the batter into pancakes so I can freeze them, because while they're delicious, they're not the kind of thing I want to eat for a week just because they'll go bad. Actually nothing is the kind of thing I want to eat for a week, and I'm discovering how helpful my freezer is. Who knew? I got a blender on Monday and have had a smoothie every day since. I even used the food processor attachment for the olives in the pancakes. I've already officially gotten my money's worth. I love when a purchase proves itself so quickly.

My class discussed Annie Dillard today, and as usual they are more insightful and seasoned than I am and pretty much changed my mind about the reading. I'd forgotten, or just not known, how divisive Dillard can be. Lah-di-dah cock-eyed optimists like me eat her up, and cynics just sneer away. After our discussion today, I stand loyal to her but certainly see the basis for all criticisms. Many students said they just didn't get it, walked away unchanged, so we joked about checking the SparkNotes. That cracked me up, because what would be on the SparkNotes of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek? "Chapter 1: Annie goes to live at Tinker Creek. Chapter 2: She is still there and totally enthralled. Chapter 3: She tells us some fascinating information in an awed tone. Chapter 4: She visits the creek again and is awed again." Actually, I'm going to go check SparkNotes for that right now. The question is, does that matter? That there's no plot or change? The Pulitzer people say no. I say, eh, if a student wrote like that I'd probably tell them to show us a change in the narrator, show us a point, and not fall back on beautiful language. Now if we can only get my other class to step it up, which for them means, oh I don't know, read the material. Oh, the difference between general studies and creative writing students. At least in that class we're reading The Importance of Being Earnest, so I know what's going on just by reading it instead of relying on the big prof for everything.

There's a "parade to the polls" from campus tomorrow for early voting. I have class then, but how cool. I think I'm voting early. Why not? Yeehaw.

My Gift to You

Yo, check it. I was reading an eHarmony Advice article on romance, and there's a section on cooking. Among its sentences, we find, "Add some wine and candles, and Don Quixote will start looking like a slacker in comparison." Now, I don't know much about Don Quixote, but I never thought of him as romantic. I think the eFolks might mean Don Juan. If I'm right, this is funny. Funny enough to share with the world. You're welcome.