Wednesday, August 30, 2006

The Waffle House




I hardly knew Chuck when he came to the bar where I worked and gave me a copy of Ivan Illich's book, Deschooling Society. I read it and dropped out of college. Illich, in case you don't know, argues that education isn't really about learning but about maintaining class structure. He argues against experts mediating and defining our experience.
I learned what I know about writing by the act of writing itself and by reading. I used to joke that people shouldn't go to school for MFAs, they should go instead to The Waffle House and listen to people talk. That's kind of a smart ass thing to say, as my friend Sara Backer, a writer and English teacher, pointed out, and I've stopped saying it, although the point it still valid--one of the most important things for a writer to understand is how to pay attention, how to observe, how to listen to people talk.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Sister Agatha and the Danger of Reading


I wonder sometimes if my old Sister Agatha didn't serve me well by warning me against reading too much--- you know what can happen if you read too much of the wrong thing? You could get pregnant. You could drop out of the church and become a communist. Wow. Talk about enticing a young girl to read!

End of government not fun

I've been painting walls and listening to the radio, Air America. Yesterday it was all about Katrina and the Gulf Coast. I was thinking about when I was in the Northridge Earthquake with my family and right away there was help. Anyone who was hurt was cared for and anyone who was killed was taken away and immediately there were systems in place for us alI. I took it for granted. That's the way things work here. But in George Bush's America, that's not the way things work. When I was a young anarchist, I imagined that the collapse of government would be a lot more fun than it actually is.......

Friday, August 25, 2006

Yoga


I've started doing yoga again, after a summer of sitting in a chair. After three months of no practice, why am I surprised to find myself less flexible and weaker? When I practice for three months, I expect results. Why am I surprised that my no-practice also has results? Why do I expect to have it both ways? And anyway, I'm not supposed to be so result-driven. Nasim Hikmet says to live like a squirrel, without looking for something beyond, but I'm not sure this is what he meant. He meant being alive is enough. And when you practice yoga, I mean when you are doing it, that should be enough. Last night it occurred to me that so much is going on with each pose, if you notice you'll see. There are so many sensations. My teacher loves the practice. She is so joyful about it. She walks among us, whispering: gorgeous, gorgeous.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Demi


from my work journal (I'm a school librarian, remember?) Dec. 16

I’ve been reading the kids Demi’s new book, The Greatest Thing in the World, which is, according to Demi, life itself. Weapons are not the greatest thing. Beauty is not the greatest thing. Technology is not, money is not. In the book a little girl, observing the lotus plant, realizes that life itself is the greatest thing. I was afraid the kids would think I was being preachy. There is nothing they hate as much at that. Or that they would be bored. They love exciting stories and funny stories, but it seemed to me the right book for now, before Christmas. I was surprised to find class after class listening intently, even the bad boys, hanging on each word, and then, at the end of the story, bursting into applause.
We underestimate them. Children are naturally philosophical. And children, I think, if given the chance, move instinctively towards authenticity and beauty.
Thank you, Demi, for another beautiful and authentic book.

Q: You once worked as a waitress, as did June in your latest novel, Twenty Questions. What anecdotes about your restaurant days can you share with readers?

Don't get me started on waitress stories! Restaurants, as June says, are passionate places, full of unpredictability and eccentricity. And they are full of stories. I'll just tell you one. . . .

One night when I was working I had a customer who was eating alone, a handsome fellow, and, as he ate his meal -- a good meal: grilled salmon and wine -- he was writing on a pad of paper. I always wanted to know what my customers were up to, and pretty soon I could see that, among other things, he'd written the name of a friend of mine. I had to admit to him that I was a nosey waitress, and I asked why he'd written my friend's name. The customer was Kevin Krajick, a writer, and he'd come here to the Oregon coast from New York to work on an article about the forest. He was looking for a man named Chuck Willer, because he hoped to interview him. Chuck was an environmentalist. "Oh," I told him, "I can get you an interview with Chuck. He's my husband."

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

On Living by Turkish poet, Nazim Hikmet


My friend, Bob, sent me a poem today....... I'm posting the last stanza.


This earth will grow cold,
a star among stars
and one of the smallest,
a gilded mote on blue velvet-
I mean this, our great earth.
This earth will grow cold one day,
not like a block of ice
or a dead cloud even
but like an empty walnut it will roll along
in pitch-black space ...
You must grieve for this right now
-you have to feel this sorrow now-
for the world must be loved this much
if you're going to say ``I lived'' ...


Nazim Hikmet
February, 1948
Trans. Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk - 1993

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Sister Agatha and Flannery O'Connor





I went to Sacred Heart Elementary School in Savannah, Georgia, which is the same school that Flannery O'Connor attended. Sister Agatha was my fifth grade teacher, and I like to imagine that she once taught Flannery as well. Sister Agatha told us vivid stories about the torments of Hell. She terrified us, especially Shirley who was Protestant and, even though she was still in elementary school, had a boyfriend who was a sailor. Sister liked to describe the flames of Hell, the horror of dismemberment, an eternity of suffering. I like to think that from moments like these, a person might later construct great literature.

The Self Absorbed Writer

My day job is at an elementary school library. I say I'm a librarian because functionally that's what I am, but I'm not a real, honest- to- God librarian with a degree in library science. The schools don't hire librarians like that because then they'd have to pay them a regular, middle-class wage.

I read books and I write them. I don't write children's books although a reviewer suggested (in a rather mean- spirited way, I must say) that I might try it. Writing about children is not at all the same as writing for children. First of all. Also, I'm interested in adult relationships, adult problems, and adult flaws. I'm interested in the way that good and evil set side by side. This blog is not going to be all about me. I told Chuck that there is no one more self-absorbed than a writer with a newly published book. I asked him if I'm talking about myself too much and he said no, but he'd tell me if I started to.