near wild heaven

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

So, Johnny Carson died. I'll admit I was sad to hear it. Like many Americans, it was a special privilege when, as a kid, I was allowed to stay up long enough to watch Carson's monologue. The guests bored me back then. Anyway, I'm just amazed at how beloved our television stars are here in America. There were two days of non-stop mourning on CNN; the president even released a statement about Carson.

I should caveat all this by saying that I find nothing wrong with television. I don't think it's evil. I watch a fair amount of television myself. But I do not share the view that watching television is somehow an enriching cultural experience, or that it brings us closer to anything. It's pure entertainment, at its most indulgent (for the the viewers and the performers). Of course there are enriching experiences to be had on television, that's not my point. But we seem to spend so much time with television that we literally ingest it into our psyche, until it becomes this amplified version of itself. I mean, Susan Sontag had to die before she even got a modest mention in American mainstream media. When Jacques Derrida died last year, the president on France made a formal statement (this is also the same French president who cut short his Christmas vacation in Morocco and returned to France when the tsunami hit; Bush issued a press release and continued his Texas vacation for a day or two before realizing that his absence from the public at this time actually mattered). Americans seem to love their entertainers as much as other countries cherish their thinkers and artists. I'm never quite sure how I feel about this. I do it, too--Carson's death made me more sad than I had the right to feel. Ditto Jerry Orbach--I was mourning Lennie Briscoe, the character, not the man who played him.  I mean, there's nothing wrong with mourning our entertainers. They do important things for us. But two days on Johnny Carson? Or, for that matter, last summer's week of revisionist press on Ronald Reagan?

posted by: zithereen at January 26, 2005 01:32 | link | comments |

I'm becoming a machine for writerly trvia. Did you know that Thomas Merton died from electrocution in Thailand because he touched an electric fan while stepping from the bath? And that, prior to his trip to Asia, he hadn't left his abbey in Kentucky in twenty-seven years? Did you know that Norman Mailer wrote a 35,000 word story when he was ten years old? Or that a novel by John O'Hara was banned for obscenity in Detroit and Albany, of all places? I didn't know these things until this week, when I learned them during the course of writing my Almanac script. And you can hear all about it, on January 31. Now I'm working on February 6: Ronald Reagan, Aaron Burr, Eric Partridge.

I wonder how much of this information I'll retain. I sure like knowing all this stuff, although I wouldn't say I have a command of knowledge on the lives of the writers I've studied. It's more like I have impressions sprinkled with anecdotes and details. But it's good information to know. I get to know more about the people who have done what I want to do. And I get paid, and I can add a new line to my CV.  And it helps pass the increasingly dull winter months.

Fortunately, I start teaching again on Tuesday afternoon. I'm only teaching two classes, and on Tuesday/Thursday at that, but it's time for me to get out in the world again. It's been a long (paid) break. My trip home seems to have deepened my relationship to my fiction. I came back here and got plenty done, with plenty more still to do, on my book. And, with the semester underway, the rest of winter should pick up speed as it nears terminal velocity. Here here.

posted by: zithereen at January 23, 2005 18:40 | link | comments (1) |

Story

I'm going to post the first paragraph of a story, just because I want to. I haven't posted any fiction for awhile. This is a strange story. It first began, in a much different form, in a workshop with Mark last year. He was urging us to write through our immaturity and mistakes, to produce a lot of work. This began as a fragment, and yesterday it achieved the status of "complete draft." It's got a ways to go. Right now it's called "Fissure." Here goes:

Jack's father sent his teenage son to the far reaches of their vast property when he wished to lay into Jack's mother over something that had gone wrong, for which he blamed her. So it was on a chilly Saturday evening in October, just as the leaves that had changed color were beginning to fall from the many tress all across their property, and land on the damp, deadening grass. Jack heard his father's voice begin low, like a growl, and grow louder the angrier he felt, so Jack made quick to the garage to find the rusty old rake with its thin-finger spokes. Then he set out across the grass to where his father had sent him, to the old maple tree tucked in the back of the property.  

posted by: zithereen at January 19, 2005 20:08 | link | comments (3) |

Weather Quest

Tonight is the last night for sub-zero temperatures. Tomorrow it should hit 25, rather balmy. I'm going for a walk.

At lunch today, the TV weatherman casually noted that the beautiful sunshine was "an Arctic sun." The day had seemed almost cheerful until he said that; then I searched outside the window, and felt lonely. I'm impressed by Minneapolis, however. I'm amazed that so many people live in these Twin Cities. It's pure love, because it's not always convenient. The Cities aren't on the way anywhere, really, except Winnipeg. You have to specifically travel north to come here. And you get here, and they're thriving, vibrant, alive, heavily populated, temperatures be damned. People love it here. When it's cold, the city closes in on itself, conserving energy. I have never heard it this quiet with so many people nearby. Even the downtown skyline, clearly visible between the naked branches just outside our window, seems at rest. The cityscape is placid, reserved. It, too, must wait. And still, one of America's major metro regions continues to grow. Remarkable.

It's cold, but I can safely say there's no place like Minneapolis, and I mean that as a compliment.    

posted by: zithereen at January 18, 2005 00:00 | link | comments |

 I haven't written much on here because it is freezing outside--check my Weather Pixie by scrolling down--and most of my writing energy has gone to editing my fiction and writing Almanac scripts. I really wanted to make my scripts for this week good, since GK voiced some concerns over the "academic" feel of the scripts.  I heard this second-hand from the producer, who seems to take GK's criticisms and concerns rather hard. Apparently, he was recording the scripts last Tuesday, and he stopped halfway through and talked to the producer about his concerns. I get the impression that he is a bit tempermental, which goes arm in arm with being a perrfectionist (and, perhaps, a Minnesotan)--which is very likely why he now finds himself as a writer and performer of no small repute. Anyway, it's GK's show, so he gets what he wants. I'm just a scriptwriter, and it's my job to give him what he's looking for. In this case, he wants more quotes, more anecdotes. He wants the Almanac to come into the ears better than it comes into the eyes. He wants it to sound like he's right next to you, in the car while you drive home from work, telling you stories about writers. And so it is my job to help him do that. It's an interesting challenge, writing for another person, to operate wholly behind the scenes. I figure something will give sooner or later--GK likes to rotate writers every so often, to keep the content fresh--but I'm hoping to make it until at least May, when I may very well take my leave of Minnesota. So, we'll see how the recording goes on Tuesday. I've asked the producer to let me know if he continues to voice concerns.

Meantime, I've got a beautiful day outside. I've got dreams of my first true spring since 2002. It's coming. And I've got a story to write.

posted by: zithereen at January 16, 2005 11:36 | link | comments (1) |

I have added the Weather Pixie. You'll find him if you scroll down just a bit. I do this today, of all days, because an Arctic cold front is about to sweep through the Twin Cities. At this moment it is 30 degrees F. By this time tomorrow, it could be minus-10.  That's not the windchill, kids. That's the actual temperature. And I think, Hey, I had this cold weather thing beat. All I had to do was refuse to leave southern California. But, I couldn't really do that, now could I? Anyway, refer to my Weather Pixie over the next 24 hours, and watch those temperatures plummet.

Not much news here. I just today applied for a fellowship at Colgate University. I applied for this last year but did not get it. The odds are about 1 in 150. Which I figure are better odds than winning the lottery, getting hit by a bus, sleeping with Nicole Kidman, or buying a house within the next 12 months. I put together a nice application. I'm proud of it. I was helped by my friend Elizabeth, whose ancestor John Winthrop is a main feature of today's Writer's Almanac, which I wrote the script for. Eliz is remarkable: 25 years old, and she just sold her first novel to Knopf.

posted by: zithereen at January 12, 2005 17:19 | link | comments (2) |

 

Yesterday it was relatively warm--20 degress--and the sun came out for awhile, and my girlfriend and I took a long walk. It's not so bad if you bundle up. We walked in a large, uneven circle, crossing the Mississippi River twice. In Minneapolis, you can take two kinds of walks: the urban walk or the nature walk. Seriously, the skyscrapers of downtown can be at your back, but there are certain places in the city that feel like it's the country, or at least a small town. One of these places is Nicollett Island. The island is a self-contained unit. It has a high school, and a small town atmosphere that feels like it's from fifty years ago. It's like walking through Pleasantville in some ways. Near to the houses, just off a wide path, a bunch of small trees had been felled by beavers, and I ran my hand over the smooth grooves in the wood. This is one significant difference to Long Beach. In that part of California, you are never given to thinking you are anywhere but a major urban area. That's not a criticism, actually. Each city should use its natural assets. Minneapolis has America's most famous river running through it. Long Beach has the Pacific Ocean, and that's where people in those parts go if they want spaciousness while they walk.

It was nice to return to Minneapolis after my visit to Ohio, which was disappointing in a few ways. I approached Minneapolis from the south, and when the highway curved and dipped, the city skyline revealed itself, still fifteen miles off. I smiled. It felt good to be back again.

Remind me sometime to explain my long and unusual relationship with the city.

posted by: zithereen at January 09, 2005 11:15 | link | comments |