near wild heaven

This is now, this is here, this is me, this is what I wanted you to see.

States travelled in the past week: California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri, Iowa and Minnesota. This brings my grand total for states visited to 44. Have yet to see Connecticut, Vermont, Rhode Island, Alabama, Hawaii and Alaska.

Enjoying the break, maybe too much: haven't written a damn thing since Thursday. This Thursday I travel to Chicago for the AWP Conference, which promises to be fun. Old contacts from Iowa State. Hands to shake, people to meet or see again.At some point I'll tell you about the vision I have for earning a livelihood right here in Minneapolis, should I end up here in July. But not now. There are other things I should be doing.

posted by: zithereen at March 23, 2004 21:25 | link | comments (3) |

Quickly: off again to Minneapolis tomorow night. Taking my trusty Jetta on its first (under my watch) long trip. Across the southern California deserts, through Arizona, New Mexico and the northern tip of Texas, into Oklahoma, and north into Missouri, Iowa and finally Minnesota. Man, this is just what I need. The open road, the wind in my hair, the southwest giving way to the midwest, and to my gal. For two weeks!

Just what I need, friends.

posted by: zithereen at March 18, 2004 01:00 | link | comments (4) |

There is a scene in the latest episode of The Sopranos where Tony stares at himself in the mirror the morning after a night of heavy drinking. Mind you, he and his wife are separated and he is all alone (aside from the latest in a line of model-like women with whom he carries on affairs, of course...). But he feels alone. That's all that really matters. How things seem. When he looks in the mirror, it's clear that he understands that he looks like as much shit as he feels like. I can't capture it for you; you'd have to know the show. But it looked like he missed something. Like he missed himself.

I miss myself. I hope that doesn't sound melodramatic, because I'm actually quite happy in some ways. But these past few years of rather intensive study and writing, accompanied by an increasingly unhealthy diet and irregular habits, it's changed me. In some good ways, yes, and in some not so good ways. I have a permanent crick in my back. I don't sleep terribly well. I don't often have fun, even as I love my work more than ever. My closest companions are many miles from me. I feel like a foreigner here sometimes. All very disconscerting to me. I was talking to a friend recently about having some point of reference, something tangible, like belonging somewhere, like knowing that this is the place I need to be. I dunno. I've put a lot of things on hold so I could go to school and learn to become a better writer. And I wouldn't want to do without this. I can't imagine not having had the opportunities I've had. It is what it is, and isn't what it isn't. How Zen.

I'm going to take myself to the wall over the next couple of months. They're important, important months, and I'll spend many hours hunched over this very computer, working, trying hard to ignore the way it makes my back hurt.    

posted by: zithereen at March 15, 2004 23:51 | link | comments (4) |

Gorby's coming! Gorby's coming!

That's right, people. Former leader of the Soviet Union, the "evil empire," America's enemy in the cold war, the man with the funny thing on his head, will be coming to Orange County, California. Don't know who Gorby is, kids? Check yer history books. I would go see this man in an instant; the thing is, I'll be out of town when he's here. But thank goodness! Or Buddha, at least--I'll be back in time for the Dalai Lama's visit in April, though I hear from a friend that the Dalai commands quite a price for tickets, and that's just regular price. Who knows what the scalpers might charge? The black market on Dalai Lama tickets should be thriving. Ever been to a major league baseball game? You know, you head toward the stadium--maybe you have a ticket already, maybe not, maybe you want the best seats--and some scruffy character in a torn Members Only jacket, circa 1985, approaches you and yours with the best tickets, primo tickets, ready to be yours for a reasonable markup on the legal cover price. When I was in New York a long time ago, when I was a kid on a school trip, we sold our extra tickets to Les Miserables at regular price to a stocky, androginous woman who clearly meant to scalp them for a profit. Even as a middle school boy, I knew what was up. I'm tryting to imagine people like Androgony Woman and MLB Scalper making back-alley deals for tickets to Gorby or the Dalai Lama. I'm imagining the scenarios:

Scalper: "I got two balcony seats, above the stage."

Customer: "So I'll have a good view of that thing on his head?"

Scalper: "Say what? I only got tix for the Dalai Lama, fool."

posted by: zithereen at March 10, 2004 23:40 | link | comments (2) |

Yesterday was the day when I could almost imagine living in Los Angeles. When I lived elsewhere, Los Angeles seemed completely unappealing, the evil city on the west coast. But it's a flirtatious city, I've learned. Yesterday there was a reading for some MFA students at Skylight Books and I was the emcee. The traffic was smooth on the drive from Long Beach; the raised carpool lanes vaulted us far above the fray of traffic. Downtown Los Angeles moved toward us; the Hollywood sign hung in the distance. Behind the cityscape was the suggestion of mountains, fading in the mist and smog and late afternoon sun. Above us, the sky was massive and seamlessly blue, pressing down on us. The tips of palm trees blew in the wind beside my car. We descended into the city without effort, and found a convenient, nearby parking spot. We walked down a tree-lined street, mooning at the genuine 1950s architecture, still in pristine condition. The sun was large and warm. We found the bookstore and entered. It had new vaulted ceilings that swept in the air high above us, making the space roomy. The place smelled like fresh print. Afterwards, we walked down Vermont Ave. to Dresden, a restaurant that looks like a luxury basement from the 1970s. A band played cello and drums in the bar; we ate in the main dining area. The lights hung deeply from the high ceilings, glowing inside yellow orbs. We ate, had drinks. When I stepped outside to leave, the air was still warm but also crisp. The street was busy, teeming with traffic and pedestrians. People drank coffees and beers at outdoor cafes. Their laughter grazed against the noise of cars. And I looked at an apartment building just outside the restaurant, across the street. It was five stories high and I could see inside some of the apartments. The facing was brick, made to look aged. For a moment I could see myself here, on this street, living.

posted by: zithereen at March 07, 2004 23:11 | link | comments (3) |

Thanks to all of you who have given me your feedback about my question from last post. I've decided to strike a compromise, giving everybody what they want. For my part, I enjoy sharing my work and want to continue doing so; many of you have expressed interest in continuing to read what I write. Some of you are less thrilled with the fiction and would rather I concentrate on more traditional blogging activities, such as writing about myself. As I thought about it, I came to realize that none of us are wrong, and if nobody's wrong, why can't we all get along? So I have created Story Time, a blog that will feature only my writing. It's linked at left under "Zithereen's Stories." Those of you who want to read up, feel free. And those who don't can remain here in the cozy confines of Near Wild Heaven.

I've posted the entire text of "Document," a story I had been posting on here. Perhaps every couple of weeks I will update with a new story, and of course your comments on them are welcome. 

Anyway, I should be writing. But wanted to share the news.  

posted by: zithereen at March 05, 2004 11:38 | link | comments (1) |