Still no love from McSweeney's

Rejected. Again. If I was spending more than about three minutes on these things, my ego might actually be suffering.

Here's the list that McSweeney's rejected:

Geographical anomalies in Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues"

1) If he's stuck in a California prison, how exactly does he know the train goes to "San Antone"?

2) Why is he in jail in California and not Nevada if he "shot a man in Reno just to watch him die"?

new tinfish chapbook

poetrypolitics


Greetings from cloudy Hawai`i....

Please distribute this message far and wide!




I'm pleased to announce publication of _When the Plug Gets Unplugged_, by Kim Hyesoon, translated by Don Mee Choi. Kim Hyesoon is one of the most prominent poets in South Korea, and Don Mee Choi lives in Seattle where she translates the work of Korean women poets. Chapbook design by Mike Cueva.

These are poems about rats, spoken by rats. From "This Night":

A rat
devours a sleeping white rabbit
Dark blood spills out of the rabbit cage
A rat devours a piglet that has fallen into a pot of porridge

. . .

A rat devours the new baby in the cradle
Mommy has gone to the restaurant to wash dishes
A rat slips in and out of a freshly buried corpse


Anyone who gets this message can buy the chapbook for $8 from Tinfish Press, 47-728 Hui Kelu Street #9, Kaneohe, HI 96744.

Now at the printer is Barbara Jane Reyes's much anticipated volume, _Poeta en San Francisco_, so stay posted.

aloha, Susan, Tinfish Editor

PS Remember that rat books make fine holiday gifts.


Susan M. Schultz
Professor
Department of English
University of Hawai`i-Manoa
Honolulu, HI 96822

Rejected by McSweeney's

I got rejected when I submitted this list to them...since I spent all of 10 minutes on this, however, I suppose being too morose over this would be unseemly.

Here's the list:

Rejected Names for IKEA Products

Snöttragg

Asswiipe

Kurt Vonnegut

Eatt Myshörtts

Miilk Kratte

Wett Sppötte

Tupac Shakur

Lazee Böyy

Scuuter Libbie

Barka Loungger

Details

he just walked off the detail, he was a prisoner and not considered violent, but when he walked off the detail he acquired a knife, somewhere between the road, the state park, and the subdivision that borders it, do they grow on trees, broke into a house and raped a woman at knife point, took off, in her car, and now they can’t find him, all this happening in minutes, this man that was not considered a dangerous criminal even though he was in jail and just walked away from the prison guards that took him to the road where he was presumably supposed to pick up trash, and this woman, now, Raped, robbed, she’ll never look at a man or men or her kitchen the same way again, he raped her at knife point after he just walked away from the prison society put him in even though he was not a dangerous criminal. was he or did we make him. what difference does it make. And Plato thought we came out of the cave.


*vented hastily, direct to screen, after hearing the news story, in the middle of a Spanish class I was subbing for, at a school where they lost two kids in a month, and near the school where the girl was hung from a tree in her yard a few weeks back. This was where I came to escape the crime wave. Is that ironic.

MFA brilliance

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/lists/mfa.html

Cc Preschool

a four year old boy licked the bottom of my shoe. have you ever seen. rest time. wiggles. no mother. what mother could. junk yard. father who can't read. write his own name. can you do it for me. color my cat. a camel with a camera. the boy. asks. can i please hug you. will you be back. joe licked the bottom of my shoe today.

D an cers

jim is currently asleep outside the library with his head on one fist but maybe not currently
only in a shot but after a fact
now opposed sexes inside each other yet the viewer as both at once
the blinds remain closed
with a number written that no one should remember
and then where to go where to be staying
a group of individuals
a rock in glue
rubrics pouring ice cubes
is chicago is not chicago
the reduction
reduce the us age expanding
distraction from awkward
the first six feet create all sales
aloft goes the beating
what fingers what rods
near far reader red
less home ownership of containers
life
can it say it
tomato soup downside up calling tapeworm
met this girl met this boy met this girl met this
a few leafs through a drawn blind

Everyone use

how to live the address
unpublished and lines crease
where the shadow wont form reminding
starting no circle no in the fiber
not seen marked but spaced stutter
these paws rest touch in
brawl hearted stuck ade draw
leveling jung%anger to in meta
or%article lettered strum eats their
motion read votive refreshed oppose%
table encroach spaced vine a%door%rinse
feel a%mend%in%turning closed to in truck%
gated split stall this the student of
this the prairie horizontal city within
on before hand on of the moment on passing
over on all of the it on then bill%yard felled
or look here look here look here look here look here look here look here look here look here look here look here look here look here look here look here look

Publishing's Not all Its Cracked Up To Be???

This mini-essay from the New York Times, Publish and Perish, addresses the pitfalls of publishing - and author's unrealistic expectations....

Article to Ponder

Check out this article from the Oct 17th online edition of the New York Times, where they talk about a poet who quit writing for much of his life and has now won an award for writers over fifty publishing their first book... there's some interesting stuff in there, I think, including a thesis about a made up Victorian poet.

Anyone in California?

Got this from Deborah Meadows, a poet who read in Madrid this past summer. Thought if anyone out there was in the neighborhood you might wanna check it out...

Cal Poly Pomona

Poetry and Jazz
at the W. Keith and Janet Kellogg Art Gallery

Monday, October 17, 2005

5:00–6:30 p.m.

featuring

Ron Escheté Trio, a consummate master of the seven-string guitar as well as a CSULB Music department faculty will play with Todd Johnson on bass and Kendall Kay on drums.

Diane Ward, poet and author of numerous volumes of poetry including On Duke Ellington’s Birthday, Never Without One, and Portraits and Maps [with art by Michael C. McMillen] (Piacenza, Italy: ML&NLF).

Rodrigo Toscano, a poet whose books include To Leveling Swerve and Platform, works in The Labor Institute in NYC, and is a 2005 Fellow in Poetry from the New York Foundation for the Arts.

a conference on katrina

for those who enjoy such things:

----- Original Message -----
From	shahin kachwala
Date	Wed, 12 Oct 2005 17:38:08 -0400
To	WMST-L@LISTSERV.UMD.EDU
Subject	CFP - A Feminist Response to Hurricane Katrina: A Conference

---

Please spread the word (see attached flyer).

A Feminist Response to Hurricane Katrina
A Conference

Hosted & Organized
by UAlbany Women's Studies Students

- A Call for Papers -

We especially invite undergraduate and graduate students and non-academics
to submit papers and media (such as film, video, photography, paintings,
etc.) that discuss any of the issues surrounding Hurricane Katrina.
Paper topics may include (but are not limited to) any of the following:
(dis)ability, (access to) technology, age, citizenship, classism,
disbursements of funds, education, environmental factors/issues, gender
violence and other kinds of violence, government policy, identity, media
depictions, migration (unplanned, forced), militarization and
criminalization, poverty, racism, residential segregation.

Abstract Submissions Due: October 28, 2005
Presentations on December 2, 2005

Abstracts must be 200 words and submitted to: wstudent@albany.edu or
jhobson@albany.edu




--
Shahin Kachwala
Department of Women's Studies
University at Albany - SUNY
1400 Washington Ave.
Albany, NY 12222

In need of a long nap

Why, you ask? Here's why:

http://local.lancasteronline.com/4/17635

http://local.lancasteronline.com/4/17664

And then, when the new Bankruptcy law takes effect this Monday and the middle class finds out what this law is about, let the George Bush-led fun really begin.

Alexis's Best Of Piece...

Check out this piece from Alexis Wiggins, fiction student and expat writer living in Madrid, which was chosen by Fresh Yarn, and then picked for one of their Best Of editions... Its pretty damn good!

News from Stan West...

This morning, (Sunday, Oct. 2, 6:30 a.m. to 7 a.m. Chicago time), I featured Prof. Peter Thompson, who taught UNO's translation course this summer, on my WNUA 95.5 FM Chicago radio show "City Voices," a weekly show streaming live that inquires into literature and cinema from the Third World. Today's show focused on the literary, cultural movement of "Negritude," and a the work by Veronique Tadjo, a poet from the Ivory Coast now living in Paris, whose book Thompson translated.

(I believe her new book with Prof. Thompson's translation will hit bookstores this month).

PS - Susan's New Book

Check out Susan's new book! Its titled A Poetics of Impasse in Modern and Contemporary American Poetry. Let's support each other!

Good News from Susan Schultz

Just found something interesting on the Tinfish website -

a Tinfish poet, Barbara Jane Reyes, has just won the Academy of American Poets Prize... congrats to Ms. Reyes and Tinfish! Go to the website and read all about it...

Poet Envy

So, while looking up the other titles of friend to the program Michael Winter, I discovered that he has a blog, just chock full of interesting tidbits from his travels and life that are prose masquerading as poetry... I thought some of you might want to check it out at The Big Why -

and now I want to see more work out there from all of you!

Letter to First Lady

Someone sent me the link to this article on Common Dreams... thought it might be worth talking about.

Published on Monday, September 20, 2005 by The Nation (October 10, 2005 Issue)
No Place for a Poet at a Banquet of Shame
by Sharon Olds

For reasons spelled out below, the poet Sharon Olds has declined to attend the National Book Festival in Washington, which, coincidentally or not, takes place September 24, the day of an antiwar mobilization in the capital. Olds, winner of a National Book Critics Circle Award and professor of creative writing at New York University, was invited along with a number of other writers by First Lady Laura Bush to read from their works. Three years ago artist Jules Feiffer declined to attend the festival's White House breakfast as a protest against the Iraq War ("Mr. Feiffer Regrets," November 11, 2002). We suggest that invitees to this year's event consider following their example.
--The Editors

Laura Bush
First Lady
The White House

Dear Mrs. Bush,

I am writing to let you know why I am not able to accept your kind invitation to give a presentation at the National Book Festival on September 24, or to attend your dinner at the Library of Congress or the breakfast at the White House.

In one way, it's a very appealing invitation. The idea of speaking at a festival attended by 85,000 people is inspiring! The possibility of finding new readers is exciting for a poet in personal terms, and in terms of the desire that poetry serve its constituents--all of us who need the pleasure, and the inner and outer news, it delivers.

And the concept of a community of readers and writers has long been dear to my heart. As a professor of creative writing in the graduate school of a major university, I have had the chance to be a part of some magnificent outreach writing workshops in which our students have become teachers. Over the years, they have taught in a variety of settings: a women's prison, several New York City public high schools, an oncology ward for children. Our initial program, at a 900-bed state hospital for the severely physically challenged, has been running now for twenty years, creating along the way lasting friendships between young MFA candidates and their students--long-term residents at the hospital who, in their humor, courage and wisdom, become our teachers.

When you have witnessed someone nonspeaking and almost nonmoving spell out, with a toe, on a big plastic alphabet chart, letter by letter, his new poem, you have experienced, close up, the passion and essentialness of writing. When you have held up a small cardboard alphabet card for a writer who is completely nonspeaking and nonmoving (except for the eyes), and pointed first to the A, then the B, then C, then D, until you get to the first letter of the first word of the first line of the poem she has been composing in her head all week, and she lifts her eyes when that letter is touched to say yes, you feel with a fresh immediacy the human drive for creation, self-expression, accuracy, honesty and wit--and the importance of writing, which celebrates the value of each person's unique story and song.

So the prospect of a festival of books seemed wonderful to me. I thought of the opportunity to talk about how to start up an outreach program. I thought of the chance to sell some books, sign some books and meet some of the citizens of Washington, DC. I thought that I could try to find a way, even as your guest, with respect, to speak about my deep feeling that we should not have invaded Iraq, and to declare my belief that the wish to invade another culture and another country--with the resultant loss of life and limb for our brave soldiers, and for the noncombatants in their home terrain--did not come out of our democracy but was instead a decision made "at the top" and forced on the people by distorted language, and by untruths. I hoped to express the fear that we have begun to live in the shadows of tyranny and religious chauvinism--the opposites of the liberty, tolerance and diversity our nation aspires to.

I tried to see my way clear to attend the festival in order to bear witness--as an American who loves her country and its principles and its writing--against this undeclared and devastating war.

But I could not face the idea of breaking bread with you. I knew that if I sat down to eat with you, it would feel to me as if I were condoning what I see to be the wild, highhanded actions of the Bush Administration.

What kept coming to the fore of my mind was that I would be taking food from the hand of the First Lady who represents the Administration that unleashed this war and that wills its continuation, even to the extent of permitting "extraordinary rendition": flying people to other countries where they will be tortured for us.

So many Americans who had felt pride in our country now feel anguish and shame, for the current regime of blood, wounds and fire. I thought of the clean linens at your table, the shining knives and the flames of the candles, and I could not stomach it.

Sincerely,

Sharon Olds

My latest Op-ed column

http://www.philly.com/mld/philly/12719406.htm

Unfortunately, the site requires registration.

collage poem

Gates//
I’m tired/religion behind a wrought iron gate/the lord is good isn’t he/do you go to church/do you see what I see/is x-ray on the top floor/can I see a cell please/if there’s nothing left to do we’ve got to let her go/if there’s nothing left to say we’ve got to say it/get it over/can I please just leave/can I have some more money some more money please/in the offering plate there’s change/pass it on/ there’s no such thing /can I have you for dinner tonight please/and thank you for the flowers/I spent the last I had left of my personality here last time/they were lovely the only flowers I’ve gotten since my grandmother went to the pearly gates/still can’t get the image of rotting fingers and splitting skin out of my head/I knew all about it before it happened/the sacristy’s in the basement/the feather fell on the plane that day/she rescued me even from/can I please be cured from the anxiety of being lost or do I have to wait until I am no longer lost/the black Jesus and the black Virgin removed for…. Sake/edited by the Department of Homeland Security/and yes, we all sang hallelujah and prayed for that amazing grace because there’s power in the blood, in her blood, in/side my body, the blood.

I'm curious...

Has anybody been able to write about the New Orleans disaster yet? If you have, would you mind sharing some of it?

412 Non-Fiction Conference

I also thought you all might like to know about Lee Gutkind's 412 Conference, November 7-12, in Pittsburgh, PA. It will feature a number of writers, and info can be found on the website. I know several of us are planning to be there, and right now Joseph Boyden, at least, is also slated to be there.... If any of you are interested in going, let me know....

Some info from the website:

WHAT IS 412?
The Second Annual Pittsburgh Creative Nonfiction Literary Festival

412 is a celebration of Pittsburgh's literary community, bringing together readers, writers, teachers and editors for workshops, readings, panel discussions and parties.

412 expands the local audience and introduces new publishing projects that represent the future of Pittsburgh and creative nonfiction.

412 showcases Pittsburgh's great writers, independent publishers and venues.

412 is the place where students, teachers, authors and readers can converge in an atmosphere of creativity, optimism and celebration of Pittsburgh’s unique place in the literary world.

Creative nonfiction is shorthand for an exciting genre that encompasses the hard-hitting honesty of journalism and the dramatic techniques of fiction. Creative nonfiction is no oxymoron; it’s gripping stories that happen to be true.


FEATURED SPEAKERS
Michael Ondaatje at the Pittsburgh Contemporary Writers Series
Thursday, 8:30 pm | David Lawrence Hall, University of Pittsburgh

Natalie Goldberg
Friday | Carnegie Public Library Lecture Hall | Oakland

Mary Karr
Saturday | Carnegie Public Library Lecture Hall | Oakland

A brief, hopefully helpful lesson in Op-ed writing

To answer Jen's question about op-eds in the comments of my last post, I thought I'd do a full fledged post on it.

The op-ed thing is something I kind of stumbled into. I wrote a column for 4 years for a business magazine in Harrisburg, where my only limitation was to "write something about business, law or politics in PA." Which meant pretty much I could write about damn near anything. From there, I started submitting op-eds to various papers. I've had a bunch in the Philly Inquirer, as well as my hometown paper, the Lancaster New Era, and other papers in Central PA.

How I cast about for a topic is pretty much this: I try to find something that isn't being written to death. Or if it is being written to death, I try to find an angle that isn't being covered. Or if it is being written to death and the angle is being covered, and it happens to be something I can take a contrarian position on and mean it, I'll take the contrarian position. Or, if it meets none of those, I'll just write about something that's personal and I can do with passion. (Which is what I ended up doing on the piece Jen linked to.)

There's a certain formula for op-eds. Usually, they should be 700-800 words. They should take a position and argue it. It's not just analysis, but opinion. Controversy helps. If you write it and half the people think you are brilliant and half think you are a fucking idiot/crackhead/Al Qaeda apologist, you are probably on the right track.

Start strong. Say what the issue is right away. Then spend a paragraph giving history. Then a few giving argument. Take some time to give the other point of view, even if you're just going to knock it down (but be honest about the other point of view. Straw men suck.) Close with a punch.

Do it well, and you too can be Paul Krugman. Do it badly, and you too can be Ann Coulter.
And yes, lots of newspapers pay. It may not be much (the wealthy Knight-Ridder corporate coffers pay me just about enough to cover the costs of sushi for two) , but it's money. And it's a publishing credit. And you get to piss people off and get paid for it. How cool is that?

Publishing?

Anybody published anything recently? Submitting any place that sounds good? Got the in on a hot new editor looking for new work? Got a piece you'd like to send out but don't know where to send it? The process is painful - excruciating at times, and usually depressing at best, so let's use this thread to talk about how to make it easier on each other - so somebody, some success stories, please!

So....[tapping microphone]...is this thing on?

It's late. I'm tired. It's after 10 pm, Eastern Time, and I'm still at my office. Working. Sending emails to my office staff. Drafting letters and motions. It doesn't get much more non-MFA than that.

Hence, the need to procrastinate.

For those who remember me, I'm Mitch, and I was in Madrid '03, '04 and '05 and in the Low Res program (fiction) since Spring '03. I have basically one more semester to go to get my MFA, along with that pesky, minor business of, let's see, how shall I say it...finishing the actual novel.

No problem there, right? Piece o' cake. Move along, nothing to see here.

Anyway, thanks, Jen, for doing your usual terrific job of organizing and giving us all a place to rant, vent, worry, whine, and procrastinate.

Later....

What're you reading?

I thought it might be interesting if we could share some recommendations here, and maybe talk about some different reading/writing issues...
so, right now I'm actually reading Michael Winter's The Big Why. For anybody who doesn't know he's a regular visitor to the Madrid program, and friend of Joseph and Amanda Boyden... since I'm not a fiction student I hadn't read it before, but I bought it at AWP last March and have just settled into it, only to be blown away by it... I definitely recommend it, and would love to hear thoughts on it from some of the people who've read it already...and speaking of the Boyden's, anyone who hasn't read Joseph's Three day Road should do so immediately...

and on the poetry front, check out Susan Schultz's Tinfish Press

and one other, Hank Lazer, poetry instructor for Madrid's '03 program has just been nominated for a Pultizer for his latest book, The New Spirit

And always, Bill's While Sleeping and others are great...

So those are some program plugs, but also genuine recommendations, since I really like the work, and get no kickbacks ;).... But I'm always looking for some good recommendations....

Introduce Yourself, Your Work

Michael just mentioned that it might be a good idea for us to talk about our interests, and he's right, since although most of us know each other, this is a multi-genre blog, and not everyone knows each other, or is as familiar as we'd like to be. So, let's use this thread for intros, and intro stuff only (as you know how weighty some of those Blackboard posts can get after awhile). Feel free to post freely on the board, but I thought it would probably be nice if there was one place we could refer to quickly as a who's who...

So -

My name is Jennifer Stewart and I currently live in southwest Virginia, in the mountains, right on the border with Tennessee. I was born and raised in Florida though. My genre is poetry, though I am increasingly interested in non-fiction. I've been in the program a while now, mainly because I've been having a lot of fun. I could've graduated a year ago, but another summer, or two, in europe sounded pretty nice... however, I will be graduating at next available opportunity, as I wish to do PhD work, hopefully next fall. My preferred email addresses are:
jenniferstewart@bvunet.net
jnstewart@mac.com

Oh, and I just turned 26. Still not happy about that though.... I attended the Madrid '03, Brunnenburg '04, and Madrid '05 programs, so if you have any questions about anything program, or travel related, feel free to ask. I believe strognly in the Low-Res program - it has changed my life.

Article on Bill & Nancy's Escape

Published in this week's edition of The Chronicle of Higher Education, http://chronicle.com

NOTES FROM ACADEME
'We're Getting Out of Here'

Special report: The Gulf Coast's colleges begin to grasp the damage done

Article tools
As told to JOHN GRAVOIS

Bill Lavender runs the Low Residency Creative Writing Program at the University of New Orleans. His companion, Nancy Dixon, teaches in the university's English department. Over a cellphone, Mr. Lavender described their journey out of the city.

When we heard about the storm, we decided not to evacuate, because we really didn't think our house was in grave danger. We live in Mid-City, which is a part of New Orleans that's relatively high but not as high as the French Quarter. It's an old house. It's been through plenty of hurricanes.

I guess the storm was at full force at midmorning on Monday. It never was really that bad -- I actually put on my motorcycle helmet and walked around outside at the height of it. We lost power, of course. We still had water, we still had gas.

By about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, the storm was over. There was a little bit of water in the street, but nothing I couldn't have driven through. Our reaction at that point was, Well, this wasn't really that bad.

If that had been all the storm was, I wouldn't have regretted staying.

At some point in there, the water did start to rise. It was rising in the full sunshine, with no rain, just coming up in the streets.

Our neighbor across the street, who had evacuated, had a boat under her house -- a 14-foot light aluminum skiff with oarlocks and oars. As kind of a lark, I went and pulled it out from under her house and put it in the street.

That night, Monday night, we went out on the front porch. There was absolutely no light, and there was no noise, and the stars were fantastically clear.

We got up the next morning, and the water was higher. We were trying to listen to the radio, trying to figure out what was going on. We were hearing that the flooding on the east side of New Orleans was really bad. We were starting to hear helicopters flying around.

There was a rumor that the levee was broken somewhere, but that they were going to be fixing it, and that as soon as they got the levee fixed, they were going to be able to pump the water out. I was thinking maybe the end of the week, at the most.

One of my neighbors came to my door and said there was a guy around the corner with a baby who needed to go to the hospital. The guy was scared to death of water.

So we got in the boat, and we were rowing down the street, trying to pick the best route to Mercy Hospital. There was water all the way -- right up to the front door.

Some guy in scrubs got down in the water and helped me dock the boat there on the steps. He was a paramedic who worked for the city. He said they had no power in the hospital, and he had a generator down at his office. He wanted to know if I could row him down there so he could get this generator.

And I asked him, "Doesn't the hospital have backup power?" He said, "Yeah, they have a generator, but it's in the basement."

It was ludicrous, this notion of going to get a 5,000-watt generator to power a hospital. But he said, "There are people dying in here, and it's all we can do."

So we went to his paramedic station, a little two-story metal building. Two of his colleagues were there.

This guy I'm with told them, "I've come to get the generator." And they told him no. He said, "Look, there are people dying in Mercy."

"Well things are tough all over, and before this generator comes out of here, I've got to get me and my dogs out."

At that point, I kind of exploded. I said, "You're not even using the generator. The generator has nothing to do with your dogs." It kind of shamed them. We finally did get the generator.

We had our last good meal that night. We were having wine on the front porch, all the neighbors were out on their porches, and I got out my guitar and sang "A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall."

That night it was really hot and really still. There were helicopters messing around all night. I had this idea they were either evacuating Mercy Hospital or bringing them a generator. At one point they were so close that I could feel the wind, so I took to praying for them to come over.

It wasn't until Wednesday that we started to get more information. There was a press conference at 12. They said they thought the levee repairs would be done by about Friday. Then they said they should have the water out of the city within about 30 days. I said, "We're getting out of here. We can't live like this for 30 days."

We packed up very hastily -- all our drinking water and a good bit of food. I left my hard drive with 30 years of miscellaneous writings on it, plus Nancy's hard drive with all her scholarship on it. I just tried to hide them in the attic. I didn't know what else to do.

We had to put our cat in a carrying cage, and we put our dogs on the boat. We went and got our neighbor, my friend Charlie Franklin. We told him what we'd heard and we told him it's time to go. He thought about it for about two minutes, and then said OK.

We were nervous. We knew there were no police. We'd been warned that there were roving bands of armed looters. We knew that the boat was becoming a valuable commodity. The dogs were nervous also. They would not let anyone approach closer than about 10 feet from the boat. Charlie had a gun.

When we turned one corner, there was a kiddie pool floating in the middle of Canal Street, and I could see a head sticking up over the side of it. There was another guy pushing it and another guy wandering around in the chest-deep water looking kind of dreamy. They were junkies that had looted the Rite Aid. They were using this kiddie pool to get out of the water to shoot up.

A little further, there was a dead man in the water. Someone had hung his shirt up on a street sign. I couldn't really see his face, but the shirt was sticking up like a tent. We heard later they were tying corpses to street signs and poles.

Across the street was a building called the City Hall Annex. It has a big front porch that was just above water level, and it was full of people, maybe 150. On one end, there were women and kids holding up signs saying, "Help us please." At the other end of the porch there was this mad party going on. They were breaking windows and throwing whiskey bottles around and kind of whooping and yelling.

We were starting to get very careful about our route because we were getting close to the Superdome, and we didn't want to get caught there. Our plan was to go to the Macy's parking lot, which is just adjacent to the dome, where we had parked our car. We were just praying that we might be able to get to the car and drive out.

There were no cops. In this whole ride, we never saw a cop.

When we got to the Macy's parking lot, we saw that the entrance was four feet deep. So we couldn't get our car. We followed the water to the corner of Girod and Carondolet, and that's where the water ended. We had to abandon the boat.

So we started walking uptown, to go to my ex-wife's house, which we knew was dry, and they had a generator and probably food and water. For all I knew, they were still there, because I hadn't talked to them since Monday morning when the phones went out.

We saw this two-story house with the facade completely removed. It was just like a dollhouse. I could see the furniture and the bookshelves, everything neat, nothing in disarray, and these two black labs up on the second floor looking down at us.

After a while, a guy caught up with us. He told us he had walked all the way from the lower Ninth Ward. I'm guessing that must be at least five miles. He told us that down in the Ninth Ward he was literally wading through bodies on the way out. He didn't know where any of his family was. He had a 3-year-old and a 5-year-old kid, and he suspected that they were both dead. He was coming uptown because he had a brother who was a butler in a Garden District mansion.

He told us that in the end there will be tens of thousands dead.

We got to my ex's house. We were just praying that we were going to see her pickup outside the house. But there was nothing, and our hearts just sank. We'd been on the road now for about four to five hours. We were exhausted.

Then I remembered that our friends lived just a few blocks away, and they had left their car. Not only that, but I knew right where the key was. We got to Alex and Kat's house, and the car was intact, and the key was in the mailbox. But we couldn't make the key work in the door. I tried it and Charlie tried it, and finally I said, "Charlie, move," and I threw a brick through the window.

We crammed all of us in the car. We drove to Tchoupitoulas Street and then straight across the bridge to the West Bank, the only way out.

The next day, we were going to leave Charlie in Baton Rouge to take the bus to Alexandria, but we found out that there were 200,000 people downtown trying to get out. So we took him all the way to Alexandria. We started to have the emotional breakdown. It was strange how, going through the whole thing, I just sort of never stopped. None of us did.

But when we dropped Charlie off, all three of us broke down and started crying and pretty much didn't stop for about three days.

Program Pictures

So those of you that know me or have been on a program with me know that I am obsessive about picture taking, and while most of you have seen these, some of you may not have, and I thought you might like to take a look at some of the pictures I've got from various program functions. I have not yet added Madrid '03 photos, but they are coming. I'll let y'all know when they get put up. But there are currently pictures from AWP vancouver, as well as Brunnenburg '04 and Madrid '05. And there are more coming, from various other exploits I take part in.... I hope you enjoy them! The site is:

http://homepage.mac.com/jnstewart/

Also, if anybody esle has pictures to share, I'm sure we'd all love to see them!

Jennifer

Welcome everyone!

I thought it might be nice if we had a place where we could continue to write, read, and discuss things relating to our work and our interests even though we are displaced from our regular online community. Feel free to post work, comment on people's work, discuss writing, reading, the literary life - even plug yourself or your friends. Just please remember to respect one another, as fellow writers, readers, and friends. Enjoy!