I got published, etc.
The other day I got my copies of All Sleek And Skimming -- an anthology of fiction for teens, edited by Lisa Heggum, a Toronto librarian and very cool person. What I really like about the collection is that it contains primarily works that were not specifically written for teens. I mean, wouldn't most teens prefer to read stuff written for adults? I still find the anthology title bewildering, but maybe it will become clearer as I read the thing. The book contains my piece "This Is the Story of My Family," which takes place at 179 Pannahill, up in North York, the childhood house that I visited last week. I'm pleased with that story, still, many years after I wrote it.
I also picked up the new issue of Rampike -- Karl Jirgens's long-running literary/art magazine. I haven't been in there in a long while, but more of my fiction is in this one: a story called "Bouncing." It's pretty recent, and I'm very happy to have it published, especially in the chaotic Rampike.
In other publication news, Conan came around the other week and reversed his decision about the poems I'd sent to him for Taddle Creek. He ultimately decided on the most challenging of the bunch -- a poem called "My Lapel," which I wrote while listening to John Ashbery's Flow Chart being read aloud. Again, it'll be great to see that poem in print, especially in Taddle, where far more accessible, goofy pieces of mine have appeared in the past.
Nice to have my apartment back to myself, even though it was also nice to have visitors. Last Wednesday, Anne flew back to England. We never did do the translation collaboration of a Chilean poet we had planned on. Hopefully some such project will happen in the future. Anne's most famous for her award-winning translation of Javier Cercas's award-winning novel Soldiers of Salamis. But one of her most intriguing translations is Diary of Andrés Fava, a really oddball thing by Julio Cortazar. I think Anne should start a blog. You should, Anne.
Within hours of Anne's departure, Clint Burnham arrived into my tiny home from Vancouver, for his appearance with Elyse Friedman at Sunday's Fictitious Reading Series. Always wonderful to see Clint, who I've known since he moved to Toronto around 1990 (he went back out west about a decade ago). Clint's new novel, Smoke Show, reads well on the page, but hearing him read from the book was a whole other experience. Best reading I've seen Clint do. And Elyse was fabulous, too, reading from a short story in progress. I did my first facilitating of the onstage chat, and was glad to give Kate a break from that. It went well, though perhaps only because I'm such good friends with both the authors. Nice crowd out, and a good response. Well, Daniel f. Bradley was sort of disgruntled, but it's awesome that he came out for a fiction event, and it's always good to see him, even when he's shooting wildly from the hip.
I regret not getting to Mark Truscott's debut Test Reading Series event last night at Mercer Union. Looking forward to reading blog reports on it.
Part 2 of my New York School of Poetry Workshop went fairly well on Monday night. Ron Padgett's work went over especially successfully; I don't think I approached Ted Berrigan in the best way, though. But really, by the second generation, the poets have spread out so much more in terms of practice and content, that they're a tougher sell as a whole. But the more I examine these poets' work for the workshops, the more I admire them. I gave Larry Fagin a plug: I mean, aside from looking at a couple of his poems, I mentioned that he will consider "correspondence" students to supplement the 25 or so New York private students he meets with.
Meanwhile, in New York, Joel Lewis is in the midst of a 10-part workshop on the New York School. I'm sure Joel could stretch it out to 100 classes, he has so much to say. And has such great tales of Ted Berrigan and others. I imagine I'm far more worshipful, from afar, from Toronto, where the New York Poets are mythological.
Over and out.