near wild heaven

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

 I have rediscovered reading. Or maybe I have just discovered a different relationship to it.

I had difficulty concentrating when I was a boy. Despite my own father's preoccupation with pharmecuticals, he never proposed ritalin, or any other stabliizing medication. If I were a boy today, with the onslaught on advertising, who knows what drugs I'd be on? My point is that I loved to read as a boy, but at the same time I had difficulty concentrating. In the fifth grade, I routinely failed to turn in my homework, and this got me into trouble. There are other reasons why I might have been doing this--my parents' divorce and all the fallout--but in some ways it does not matter why. It just was. My wayward attention span plagued me for many years, up until my last year of high school. I had earned my way into an AP English class, perhaps because of the P word, potential. I had done nothing to actually earn it, but I thank the teacher who took a flyer on me, on the off chance that I might work out, after all. I wanted her respect. But she did not give it, because I was a poor student. By poor, I mean that I earned average grades those first couple months. She sent a letter to my father, who--low and behold!--expressed concern (mind you, he expressed a lot of concern about my sexual orientation, because he feared gravely that I was gay...many stories along these lines). My father showed that he cared about something that mattered. My teacher cared that I was pissing away whatever potential I might possess.

In California, rubbing elbows with big-name writers, part of something prestigious for the first time in my life, I remembered those months in high school. They were fundamentally important. I remember them still, right now. Those months of transition in little New Carlisle, Ohio are a kind of home base for me. I did what I wanted--I began to grow up--only because I wanted it, and for no other reason. That is the best reason for doing anything.  It's the only reason that will sustain you. I learned that then, but I had no words for it like I do now.  And the words are still coming.

I say all this because I've felt a shift lately, a reacclamation, a renewed excitement about reading. And reading carefully and with attention, and whatever that means at a given timem always returns me to the foundation of when I learned what all that meant.

posted by: zithereen at February 28, 2005 23:58 | link | comments (4) |

 It's been awhile, I know. I've been busy. I turned 29 last Thursday. My sister was in town to help celebrate, and we had a nice time, and every other thing--even writing and grading papers--took a back seat to her visit. A nice time. We saw Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion, very nicely done.

I didn't write much when my sis was here, but that was okay. I remember the burden of last year at this time, when a few days' not writing would cause anxiety. I would think about the judgement of my teachers and peers if I turned in crappy work. I think I put a lot of that pressure on myself, but I did want to learn a lot while I was in that wonderful program. And now, I'm benefitting, now that I can operate more according to my own rhythms. I was right to cram back then; it's taken me nearly a year to mellow out (quitting the smokes didn't help with the anxiety, but I'm mostly over it now...my chest doesn't pound with craving any longer). Now I'm getting those benefits, now that Mark and Geoffrey and all the rest aren't around. I hear their voices, though, I can emphasize and ignore what I wish. That was hard to do when I was around them a lot.

I got another idea for a novel today. Actually I've had this idea for awhile, but today I finally gave it some serious thought. I love thinking, turning something over. I have had a lot of these ideas for novels, and I begin with a head of steam, and every time I lose momentum, or faith, or just run out of story, I can't tell yet.  

Finished The Grapes of Wrath. Want to know something about America and how it was built? Read that book.

posted by: zithereen at February 20, 2005 21:55 | link | comments |

A few edits to my links. Goodbye, Wicked Cricket. You left without saying goodbye. So long, Zen Blog. I always hoped for more. Au revois, Mictlan. Yours was the most difficult to delete because your writing gets better with age, and I can't imagine why you haven't written, and I keep hoping that you will. Perhaps you have put your blog out to pasture, and deletion is just a formaily to be done by Howard when your account has been idle for a year. I hope you keep writing, Mick.  And so long University of California, Irvine MFA Reading Series. I did my last reading for you nearly a year ago now, and it was fun, but it's way over.

I did not delete Harriene because she has not yet deleted herself, as she said a week ago she was about to do. Maybe (hopefully) she is considering a change of plans. And I keep you, Slow Exhale, because your last post from August 16 implied a return. Plus, I'm worried about whatever trouble you may have gotten youself into. I can't imagine that New York City's foot fetish underground is a great place to spend much time, especially if you've got the feet the men so crave. Do say hello when you're safe and sound.

Others who I wish posted more: TechieIdiot, Sattva. Others whose sabbaticals I hope are short: Hookemup, Tickeledspirit.

Next time I'll give my thoughts on the concept of reason, why people place so much faith in it, and where I think it fails us.

posted by: zithereen at February 12, 2005 00:58 | link | comments (1) |

 So, my name gets on the radio this week. I was given the writing credit, along with somebody else, for the February 13 script. What's funny about this is that I didn't actually write the script for that day. Apparently GK spreads the credits around, such that each day of the week a different part of the production team gets credit: Thursday, for example, might be the day the producer gets credit for producing. And so, the 13th was a day for writers to get credit, and I have now finally earned my name onto the air. I'm also now on the Almanac website, at the very bottom, as a writer/researcher. Modest, but it feels good anyway. It also feels good to hear GK's ultra-smooth voice say my name. Just think: they'll hear that in Alaska!

We had a warm snap here last week, with temperatures rising into the lower 50s. I had forgotten what semi-warm weather felt like, and now I have remembered and am officially impatient for spring and mild temperatures. Today it's back down to 10 degrees--see Weather Pixie--and it feels like a typical late winter day in February. It's the stretch drive.

posted by: zithereen at February 07, 2005 11:32 | link | comments (1) |

Here's a story about a book. Twelve or thirteen  years ago, or thereabouts, I purchased John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath. I was supposed to read it the summer before my junior or senior year of high school, I can't say which. I did not read it, but I have kept the very same copy of the book, and i nthe time between when I purchased it and right now, it has lived in many apartments in Ohio, Iowa, California and now Minnesota. I suppose I was keeping it for a reason; every time I saw it, I would think, lazily, "I've got to read that someday." That someday came about two weeks ago. All this time later, I'm finally reading this book. It's a good book in its own right. I'm having a lively conversation with it. But, more than that, this entire epic story has just been sitting around, waiting on me. I have so many books here in the apartment that I haven't read, or haven't finished. I have a thousand stories waiting to be told. I love having that where I live.

posted by: zithereen at February 04, 2005 10:25 | link | comments (1) |