December 15, 2009
I wish I had more energy for writing in this blog. I currently have insomnia, after reading about seven essays in a row about Stein and Mullen and Queneau and Bok. There are brilliant little gems in there, hoping to be cracked open into something else, like a poem or a cross-genre project or a Christmas cookie. This always happens... reading at night, actually grading at night, stimulates my brain, then I can't sleep. I have a meeting at 8 am in the morning on the budget. I don't relish meetings that early, especially when the topic will be, most likely, depressing. I want to tell you about two visits to my class this semester--one from Chris Pusateri and one from Peter Gizzi. Hopefully, I will be able to write those up soon. Also, danielle vogel interviewed me for a paper she's working on--regarding pedagogy. Perhaps I can make some kind of recognizable pattern and put that up here, too. But right now, I just want to make space. That is, once I've got all my grading finished, I want to create space for writing. Everyday. Several hours in the morning. Perhaps a break with fresh chocolate chip cookies (I rarely feel like baking). Then several more hours in the afternoon. I want to read more essays about Rothko and the borders. The sides are becoming blurry and spinning out of control. Hooray. I want to seep into that space. I want to understand the hybrid monster and find out how to soothe the discoloration, the wall of red, the lack of breathing room when one stands inside searching for windows, which are painted over--they do not open. I wish for fast fingers on the keyboard. And reading! I have a stack on my desk that I haven't finished: Bhanu's new text and Amy Catanzano's new one and Anne Waldman's. I've been in this state of start and not finish. But really, I just want to write and understand the crossings and the loss and the shallow water that hovers. Something about language acquisition. Something about constellations of discourses (both here and abroad). And if I cannot understand these things, I want to travel the text that will assist with some ease. Not resolution, but relief. Everything is a recycling. But I want a reclaiming. In the morning, when sleep is nearby, I want to understand the symptom of color.