wekaplan@lycos.com
Michael Sickler Dec 15 lecture on art and poetry at Everson
Thursday, October 3, 2005, 8'08 PM I am writing on my new Psion, who I have just named Sylvia P. (For Silver Psion.) It's not new; it's used. It came priority mail between the time I got home from walking at three Rivers with Sharon G. and the time I left to go see Mom at Loretto.
Some people stopped to ask me for directions to Genesee Street as I was sitting on a window ledge writing on Silvia P. The thing is, Genesee Street does weird things here and it was pretty hard to explain. I hope they understood what I was telling them
I decide rather than writing the several things I wanted to write, now that I spent time giving directions.
8:30 PM I am in the coffee Pavilion with herbal tea and a biscotti. I signed up to read first. After that, I can relax. Scott is not here yet. There are nuts in the biscotti, hope they don't make me sick.
I haven't put a memory card in here yet so I hope I don't lose my work.
When I got here, I talked to Jane and Ellen McNeal and Scott McNeal and Michael Sickler. Michael Sickler was the first person I saw--and he knows Tyrie Gyton. Wants me to say hi to him. Tyree (?).
Tall Chris is here. Someone asks to sit with me (a woman) and I let her--I was saving a seat for Scott, but he's not here. I finish my tea before my biscotti, darn!
\r\n\r\n\r\nI read my three poems, 2 for Scott, though he has not\r\narrived. Georgia Popoff is reading\r\nnow. \r\n\r\n\r\nTonight\r\nwhen I got to Loretto, Mom was parked near the elevator--last time, too--and I\r\nsaid hi Mom and would you like to take a walk--I got her a hat and a blanket,\r\nand out we went. As we were walking\r\ndown the sidewalk, she said, "Did you see my daughter, Mary, and did you\r\nspeak to her?" When I said I WAS\r\nher daughter Mary, she asked me again if I\'d seen me and spoken to me. She was really confused. I decided to ignore her and go about our\r\nvisit normally. When we were out at the\r\npavilion, we saw the grey cat again, but the can of cat food was no longer in\r\nher chair.\r\n\r\n\r\nAt\r\nthe gazebo, an old man in a wheelchair asked me to scratch his back. I do, because he seems desperate, but it\r\nseems intimate. I am not eager to\r\ncontinue.\r\n\r\n\r\nSynchronicity,\r\nmeaningful coincidence of inner and outer events. Connected by a symbolic meaning. \r\nDeepak Chopra and Carl Jung speak of this, he says, he being Michael\r\nSickler. He is now speaking. \r\n\r\n\r\nMichael Sickler says he\'s an insomniac and sleep apneac.\r\n\r\n\r\nHe\'s speaking at Everson December 15on ort and poetry. \r\n\r\n\r\nAfter\r\nthe breaks, 3/4 of the people leave--I mean during the break. I\'d like to leave, too, but I feel it is\r\nunfair to those who read later. Michael Sickler leaves.\r\n\r\n\r\nI\r\ngive my address to Tall Chris to give to Colleen.\r\n\r\n\r\nI\r\nhope he does, though at the moment, the urgency has passed. I want to talk to her about abuse, my fear\r\nof it, when a red flag is worrisome, when it is only humanity. How to tell the\r\ndifference.",1]
);
//-->
I read my three poems, 2 for Scott, though he has not arrived. Georgia Popoff is reading now.
Tonight when I got to Loretto, Mom was parked near the elevator--last time, too--and I said hi Mom and would you like to take a walk--I got her a hat and a blanket, and out we went. As we were walking down the sidewalk, she said, "Did you see my daughter, Mary, and did you speak to her?" When I said I WAS her daughter Mary, she asked me again if I'd seen me and spoken to me. She was really confused. I decided to ignore her and go about our visit normally. When we were out at the pavilion, we saw the grey cat again, but the can of cat food was no longer in her chair.
At the gazebo, an old man in a wheelchair asked me to scratch his back. I do, because he seems desperate, but it seems intimate. I am not eager to continue.
Synchronicity, meaningful coincidence of inner and outer events. Connected by a symbolic meaning. Deepak Chopra and Carl Jung speak of this, he says, he being Michael Sickler. He is now speaking.
Michael Sickler says he's an insomniac and sleep apneac.
He's speaking at Everson December 15on ort and poetry.
After the breaks, 3/4 of the people leave--I mean during the break. I'd like to leave, too, but I feel it is unfair to those who read later. Michael Sickler leaves.
I give my address to Tall Chris to give to Colleen.
I hope he does, though at the moment, the urgency has passed. I want to talk to her about abuse, my fear of it, when a red flag is worrisome, when it is only humanity. How to tell the difference.
\r\n\r\n\r\n10:57 I try to leave\r\nbut on my way out the door, I get stopped by Jane and Ami and tall Chris and\r\nMichel, not Sickler, who has left, but tall Chris\'s friend Michael. He is making a compendium of poetry and has\r\nbought, he says, a ton of on-line space and wants the Pink Eraser poem and\r\nlike, he says, to publish all of Desire. \r\nI laugh, it\'s a thousand pages long, I say. He says he has space and will do it. I give him my email. \r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n11:27 PM I\'m home. \r\nI\'m tired. Very tired. But I am having one of those unpleasant\r\nproblems that seem to be associated with growing older that no one really likes\r\nto talk about and I particularly HATE: \r\nI\'m constipated. Ugh. Ouch, Yuk. \r\nWhat a waste of time. I wonder\r\nif those meds, like the last one, cause constipation, because I am taking\r\nprunes and bran with every meal. \r\nDang. Sorry. :-(",1]
);
D(["mb","- Show quoted text -\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n-- I am certain of nothing but the Heart\'s affections and the truth of the Imagination- John KeatsMary\r\n\r\n",0]
);
//-->
10:57 I try to leave but on my way out the door, I get stopped by Jane and Ami and tall Chris and Michael, not Sickler, who has left, but tall Chris's friend Michael. He is making a compendium of poetry and has bought, he says, a ton of on-line space and wants the Pink Eraser poem and like, he says, to publish all of Desire. I laugh, it's a thousand pages long, I say. He says he has space and will do it. I give him my email.
11:27 PM I'm home. I'm tired. Very tired. But I am having one of those unpleasant problems that seem to be associated with growing older that no one really likes to talk about and I particularly HATE: I'm constipated. Ugh. Ouch, Yuk. What a waste of time. I wonder if those meds, like the last one, cause constipation, because I am taking prunes and bran with every meal. Dang. Sorry. :-(
No comments:
Post a Comment