Infinite Jest, a novel by David Foster Wallace

And so yet another book I am currently reading (though not aloud or with Danielle) is David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest. I am 225 pages in; my paperback copy runs about 1100. You may have read it, or maybe not.

And so though I haven't finished IJ yet, I can barely describe how consistently amazed I am by this novel. It is simultaneously hilarious and heartbreaking; it is likely the most consistently inventive novel I have ever read (editor's note - it's certainly not impossible I have a limited scope); the prose is brilliant and unpredictable and adapts to the characters and the narrative at hand; and, if after One Large Sapphire you would allow me to separate "language" from "prose" (in my head "language" the words; "prose" the delivery system), it reminds me of my favorite novel, Joyce's Ulysses (mentioned in back to back posts, so you know my leanings - I have read Ulysses twice, the second time aloud with Danielle).

And so what I'm trying to say in my own subtle way is I think this is a really good fucking book; anybody who might be coming along for the ride at the same time please check in here.

Schooling, a novel by Heather McGowan

Last September, when my good friend Robert and I were in Pittsburgh PA, he was reading Heather McGowan's novel, Schooling. As he was enjoying it very much, I took a peek and liked what I saw, and asked if I could read it when he was done. Good Egg that he is, I am now in possession of said copy, and he has charged me with passing it on when I'm done. As it turns out, Danielle and I started reading it aloud together on our drive from San Francisco to Tacoma via Bakersfield. We are about 70 pages in (out of 320 or so), and I (we) think that it's pretty fantastic. Ms. McGowan is a fine writer (who has, I think, most definitely read her Ulysses), and unless something goes terribly awry in these last 230 pages (which seems unlikely), this will wind up being one of the best books I've (we've) read in awhile. So, a recommendation, and if anybody else has read it I'd love to hear your thoughts. And Mr. Winant - thanks for sending it my way: once we are finished, this copy is destined for Andy, our bartender at Joeseppi's here in Tacoma. He is just 22, just married, and is interested in books. I'm happy to pass on a good one to him.

Reading One's Mail at the Little Red Hen, Green Lake, Seattle

We needed a mailing address in Seattle to help us with our job search, so we got a post box in Ravenna, just east of Green Lake. Why Ravenna? Well, Danielle was intrigued by its proximity to Green Lake's Little Red Hen (littleredhen.com), one of (I believe) two country western bars in Seattle (by comparison, San Francisco has zero, though the Riptide does its best on the weekends). So, what a person might do (or two persons) is collect their mail once a week (say mid-day on a Thursday) in Ravenna and drive the five minutes to the Little Red Hen, camp out at the bar in the Mirror Room (if seats are available; otherwise at an adjacent table), and sort through a week's worth of mail while enjoying a couple of ice cold 2 dollar Rainiers. By the way, LRH has a happy hour from 9 am to noon; then again from 4 to 6. There is also (obviously) live music pretty much every night, and the kitchen turns out some very tasty comfort food at reasonable prices (you can see their menu on line). So perhaps we'll see YOU there one day - worse things could happen.

Civility in Black on a White Board

I recently quit my job at a nonprofit in San Francisco in advance of the move that Danielle and I are currently making to Seattle. I have no harsh words to say about this organization's mission; I support the mission, and it's true that many people who otherwise would not have access to some basic human services receive these services. That seems like something good at the end of the day. I did, however, have some problems internally, and one remarkable (to me) thing occurred that I wanted to share. (And, no - I don't believe anybody from the organization will likely be reading this. But, if they did, the truth is the truth, and there's not much I can do about that.)

I had several interactions with a variety of people at the nonprofit that, upon completion, I felt certain could have been handled differently by them. I witnessed interactions between others that had nothing to do with me that, upon completion, I felt certain could have been handled differently by one or both parties. Then, one day, something happened (the incident is unimportant) and I walked back to my office and wrote the word Civility in large letters on my white board, underscoring it three or four times (this was pre-Obama Civility, by the way). An hour or so later, my boss walked by and saw my white board and said to me, "Can you erase that? It makes me uncomfortable." (Yes, emphasis mine, and it should also be noted that the incident in question had nothing to do with my boss.) I indicated that, No, I could not erase it. And there it stayed for approximately two years. Things were added and subtracted around it, of course, but I left Civility in place. And the truth is it was as much a reminder to me as it was a reminder to anybody else.

At any rate, time passed and I gave notice, and I packed up my office and one of the last things I did was to erase my white board, but I left Civility behind. And I said to my very good friend K-Sul, "I wonder how long this will last, why don't you let me know." Nobody was moving into my space for at least a month and, in truth, I was mostly kidding when I said this. But, as it turned out, THE VERY NEXT MORNING Civility was erased. After nearly two years, my chair barely cool, somebody who was made uncomfortable by that one word couldn't act fast enough to get rid of it. I mean with everything else going on in the organization, how could that even surface on somebody's radar and shoot to the top of a To Do list? But why should I be surprised. I choose not to fear words (or art, for that matter, but that's another discussion for another day, though I'm sure the same basics apply), but others are scared shitless - whether they see words as some kind of a threat, or an accusation, or just as, you know, something unpleasant (euw!). Didn't think Civility warranted that, but what do I know? I just try to be nice to people.

Cocktail Napkins (and Other Materiel) w/ Little Crosses on Them

Please take a look at New Work for a brief description of my most recent artistic endeavors (should you be interested, natch).

July Poems

I've posted a couple of poems for July; you can see them off to the right, there, on their respective pages. The first, Two Skeletons, is based on a drawing we own by Alva Svoboda (titled the same). I don't think you need to see the drawing to get the idea of the poem. The second, Carry Off a Little Darkness On My Back, is drawn from a line from my favorite Johnny Cash song. And a word on that - via Netflix you can get old episodes of the Johnny Cash show and, on one of them, he performs the Man in Black. As I recall, he's just finished writing it the day before, and he hasn't mastered the lyrics yet, so he has them in front of him on stage as he's singing. This on network national television. Reality programming of a different sort.

Tacoma, Washington

So Danielle and I have been traveling a bit as we moved our little selves from San Francisco to Tacoma (we are now stationed at Bid Daddy's place here on 6th Avenue) with an eye, in two to three months, I should think, on Seattle. As you might imagine I've had very little time for the blog, but I wanted to get it going again as best I could. Special thanks to Shannon and Taylor for putting us up for three nights, and Danielle's mom for another four nights, and to Kayne Doumani for another three nights PLUS Quixote Winery and Terra. And, well, a shout out to the Motel 6 chain (pets welcome), too, though NOT the one in Beaverton, OR. Though it was good to see Big Al in Beaverton, I must say.