JetBlew

Well, we're home. And partially conscious.

I just finished a post about our 11.5 hour drive yesterday through a rain storm (which turned to a snow storm over Mt. Shasta) and about how the "Customer Service agent" at Sacramento thought telling me that flight had also been canceled would be a funny joke and damn near started a full-blown Texas-style brawl, but that story will have to wait because my browser crashed and I lost it.

PSA: Jet Blue out of Seattle

We are currently stuck in Seattle-Tacoma thanks to Jet Blue, which only has one flight a day out of this airport to New York and no back-up plan or extra plane. Severe weather in the Northeast grounded one plane yesterday at JFK, which was supposed to pick us up on the return. Since it didn't come, there are no planes here. All other carriers are full and already overbooked for standby (and the one-way last minute tickets are 2300 bucks a piece--sheesh!). Jet Blue cannot get us a seat out of Seattle until April 12! So, today we have no choice but to drive 11 hours to Sacramento in the rain to catch a midnight flight that will land at JFK Monday morning at 8:30 a.m.

I wish I were joking. Springing forward is cake, comparitively speaking.

Really, just FYI. If you are flying Jet Blue from Seattle today, DO NOT BE LATE!

STRANDED!

We are supposed to be on a flight to NYC in 50 minutes (West Coast time). But no.

JetBlue only has one flight from Seattle a day, and outgoings are now full through 4/12. Uh, dude, that's like 10 days from now.

Looks like our only less-than-2000-bucks-each option is to drive down to Sacramento to catch tomorrow night's red-eye. 11 hours, plus traffic.

Does that sound like fun or what?

Also, JetBlue "doesn't compensate for weather" and that means they don't mind at all stranding you thousands of miles from home all the while smiling and playing uberpolite Jedi mind tricks. We are not fooled. To quote David Lehman, "'whenever someone says 'thank you' to you think of it as 'fuck you.'" Yep, and We really wish there was something more we could do for you means fuck you too.

So thank you, JetBlue! And goodnight Sea-Tac Ramada Inn & Suites.

NaPoWriMo status

Poemish thing accomplished yesterday despite AWP madness. Perhaps to post later this weekend. Am planning to do today's on the road or in the airport.

Brought to you by our sponsor, the official AWP Hangover®

[UPDATED w/ photos]

Good morning. Yesterday's better weather allowed us to tour Gastown and a bit of Chinatown before heading to the bookfair and conference hotels and the mountains that surround Vancouver are really something. Wow. It's a clean clean city, with excellent coffee and the folks are really friendly (minus one surly bartender, but maybe he's an import).

At the bookfair yesterday I finally found Marion Wrenn (who'd been talking up GAMERS with some game designers she'd met the night before) at the PBQ table with Kathleen Miller, and I also got to meet Aimee Nezhukumatathil and Jeannine Hall Gailey, Andy Day from Failbetter, and literally countless other people who stopped by (thanks for keeping me entertained, y'all!).


Marion Wrenn & Kathleen Miller of PBQ. That very clever tee says F*@$ Me/Painted Bride Quarterly. Wanna fund?

Spotted Goldbarth again, and Marie Ponsot (tho I missed her at our table), and Cornelius Eady, and Joshua Clover (who I now recognize from some New School event or other but didn't somehow realize before) and G. C. Waldrep, and etc. Ran into the ever charming Ilya Kaminsky, Lucy Corin, Josh Corey again, Richard Greenfield again, Paul Guest again, Mark Bibbins again, Joelle Hann again, Greg Pardlo, Catherine Daly again, Charles Valle of Fence, Joanna Yas from Open City, and Anna & Matvei from Ugly Duckling Presse (whose party we missed because the reading I went to at 4:30 ran very long).


Ilya Kaminsky


Josh Corey & Matvei Yankelevich at the Ugly Duckling Presse table.


Mark Bibbins & Joelle Hann


The lovely Deborah Landau signing copies of her new book. We chatted with Adrian Metejka about sexy author photos. How photogenic!

Stopped by to get a copy of Deborah Landau's book Orchidelirium during her Anhinga-table signing. Went to the Boston Review 20th Anniversary Reading hosted by Timothy Donnelly: Brenda Shaughnessy, Karen Volkman, Cal Bedient, Bin Ramke, Cole Swenson & Peter Gizzi. Unfortunately I came in after the room was mostly filled and from the back of the room with my poor ears and the baffling tendency of poets not to speak into microphones* I was unable to make out most of the poems. Peter Gizzi, luckily, knows how to deal with audio equipment and came through loud and clear--and I really enjoyed hearing his poems. (Wanted to ask about the rumored collected Spicer but had to hotfoot it out. Next time.)


Kasey Mohammad & Catherine Daly, blurred, at the Boston Review reading.

After that reading, I hunted up hubby in one of the several hotel bars** and we headed over to the Post Road party at the Steamworks Brewery where I picked up the new issue and met some nice peeps. Finally finally met up with Jason Schneiderman & Michael Broder, who'd managed to stay hidden up to that point. We had a chat about the necessity for systematic preservation of online journals and postulated the eventual rise of the rare-manuscript collector equivalent in the weblit world. Pixels are popular for many reasons, but less persistent in archival sense than print. Some online journals are doing print annuals (PBQ and Small Spiral Notebook, for instance). Perhaps some webzine editors could turn their thoughts to this problem and propose a panel for next year's conference.

We wandered over to the Verse/Open City/Fence/Swink party in time to miss the readings but catch the Merle Haggard tunes by Matthew & Joe Wenderoth. The effervescent Denise Duhamel was there and I got to introduce her to Richard--we're bringing out Saints of Hysteria and encouraged her to propose a panel on poetic collaboration for next year's conference when the book will be available. Said hi to Jennifer and Josh Beckman again and a bunch of other peoples but then realized we were starving so headed to dinner. Our plans to hit the Ninth Letter party afterward were waylaid by the sleepies, which hit hard after oysters***, crab cakes*** and [nonisinglassed***] wine.

This morning, we're hitting the bookfair for some fire-sale purchases and trades, then maybe it's over to Granville Island for sushi lunch. Driving back to Seattle to catch a heinous red-eye flight. I did manage to get several photos yesterday, but they will have to wait till I'm back in Brooklyn--dialup ain't got my smile up. AWP Booty List and recommended reading to come, too.

But where oh where are Robin Reagler and C. Dale Young? And the rest of you?

*What is this about? In a cavernous carpeted room yr syllables get absorbed by upholstery. Speak up!

**The lack of a single hotel bar location for gathering and poet-spotting at this year's conference has been disappointing. Last year the bar at the (single) conference hotel made chance meetings more likely. Between the two hotels (kitty-corner across an avenue) each with two or three bars, the odds are reduced.

***[This post has not been modified because I have since gone vegan.]

"It's a cute little country. Let's take it."

That was Albert Goldbarth's opening quip at his reading for Boulevard's 20th Anniversary Celebration yesterday. "Seriously, they have over-the-counter Tylenol with Codeine--that is kick-ass."

He read three poems, one of which was called "Rembrandt/Panties." His final poem he read in "the poet voice" just to eff with the audience, I think. The poet voice and the poetry moan are alive and well at AWP, alas. Molly Peacock reads in a more performative style than I expected, having never heard her--an animated stagey whisper-sing. ("Anybody who does one-woman shows gives me pause," jokes the husband, but really she is pretty charming.) Bob Hicok reads in a version of the poet voice. Didn't expect that, but we still love him and his poems manage to break through the distraction of that mutant cadence. Kevin Prufer's reading was very good (no poet voice, the poems all spookily bearing the grin of Thanatos). I noted that Molly Peacock spoke the phrase "finger bones" in one of her poems--that's the title of one of Pufer's books, so a little resonance bubble popped there. Floyd Skloot read an excerpt from an essay about his grandfather. Susan Steinberg read an excerpt from a short story called "The Garage;" I enjoyed her reading the most after AG's. The reading as a whole was unavoidably l o n g tho enjoyable--even when everyone is brilliant it is difficult to listen to 6 readers read for 20 minutes each, particularly after a day of chat at the bookfair.

At the bookfair yesterday I ran into the usual delightful suspects (too many to list exhaustively, but including Janet Holmes, Hannah Tinti, Matthew Zapruder, Dan Machlin, et. al.) and also met Charlie Jensen, Kasey Mohammad, and Paul Guest live and in person for the first time. (Hi guys!) Missed Josh Corey's panel (though I did get to chat with him briefly) and Aimee Nez's reading and about a dozen other things because they overlapped with table duty. At some point during the morning I looked up and saw Colum McCann standing in front of me and we both cracked up. Had no idea he'd be here. It's been ages since we've seen in other in New York, yet there he was with Joe of The Recorder so we went for a pint. Colum came up to read for the new low-residency MFA program at Wilkes University. And Miss Jewishy-Irishy Laurel kept me company, working the BOMB Magazine side of the table. Deborah Landau and Catherine Daly stopped by to say hi--Catherine's new book Locket glitters and reflects the image of the reader in the cover (you can't tell from the photo there, but it's shimmering gold metallic). I should have taken notes--I know I am forgetting people. Chris F. from Coffee House (whose table makes me swoon) and Peter Davis (whose book Poet's Bookshelf looks really interesting) also introduced themselves. And Rick Simonson from Elliot Bay Books stopped by to say hello and let us know he'd mentioned Soft Skull in his keynote address on indie publishing. (Woohoo!)

It rained all day yesterday; the lobbies were blurred with umbrellas. We spotted Billy Collins chomping on a cigar in the Hyatt Regency bar, perhaps miffed about the smoking ban/rain combination. Maxine Kumin was signing books, as was Lyrae Vanclief Stefanon, and whaddaya know there sat lovely Susan Wheeler signing copies of Ledger at the Iowa table. So I picked that up and had it inscribed. I handed out postcards for Down Spooky and Winnow Press, as well as invitations to our party last night, where we mingled with most of the list above plus newer faces American and Canadian and finally met the infamous Tony Robinson, easy to spot by his blog photo. Afterward, the husband & I went for dinner and walked through Gastown, missing the Verse party, oh well. But by that time I was feeling pretty partied out anyway. I don't know what I was thinking but I took no photos. I'll try to remedy that today, as well as hunt up more folks from my must-meet list. The skies are partially cloudy and we have a clear view of the mountains from our hotel room right now. Looks like we'll get to walk a bit and see the city today.

National Poetry Month begins today, as does Reen's NaPoWriMo challenge. I have accepted. Not sure if I will post my efforts here, but I will keep score somehow. I am usually s l o w and a daily poem run never lasts long. Why not play along?

Happy National Poetry Month

The Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, Poet’s House, and Soft Skull Press cordially invite you to a special lunchtime reading of Rimbaud, Neruda, Vallejo, Radnoti, and Artaud by National Book Award and PEN Award-winning translator Clayton Eshleman. We will be celebrating the release of Conductors of the Pit, edited and translated by Clayton Eshleman.

April 1, 2005 at 1 pm
South Street Seaport
133 Beekman Street
Enter on Front Street
FREE!