The Longest Day of the Year: Saturday

Since banning myself from taking more "the loneliest library" photos (though I was really the only person on the third floor today), I kept forgetting to take pictures, and ended up with only four. I'm sorry. The top was from this morning, when I realized that it is Rianier (sic) cherry season. I don't think I'll be getting my bag this year, though. The final pic is a place that I photograph pretty frequently. Some day I'd really like to set all of those office chairs free.

The Longest Day of the Year: Friday

It was a pretty quiet day in the library today. I'm not sure whether this was because there is no more Michael Jackson or not. Yesterday sure took the cake in the department of strangeness.
Have been feeling very thankful for my friends lately. Also really wishing to get good news of some (any!) sort. I've never had a summer quite like this before.

The Longest Day of the Year: Thursday

The photo above is from Wednesday night, post posting. It's not cheating. Below, please find photos from today, which at first did not reveal itself as intending to be incredibly strange.






I'm going to do this until Saturday, and then I will never do it again.

The Longest Day of the Year: Wednesday

Looking forward to some things, and dreading others. A really good week so far, poem-wise. After tonight I'll hopefully have enough for another sub.

The Longest Day of the Year: Tuesday

In reverse chronological order, because I kinda liked that. And yes, my cat did vote twice in today's local election. I'm from Chicago, after all.

The Longest Day of the Year: Monday

These are in kind of a reverse chronology. That picture right up there, that's morning. It's cleared up a bit since then.

Right now I'm waiting for the dishwasher repair person to come stop the rain.

It sure is Monday today, isn't it?

The Longest Day of the Year: Sunday

This week, for the heck of it, I am going to post some pictures for each day. To ensure quality and freshness, the pictures will be from that day only, not flash frozen and thawed in a bowl of cool water. So here's from today, which is the only official longest day of the year, to my knowledge.

Air so thick you could cut it with shears.

I love a good romance between inanimate objects, especially ones that live in the library. They're the lustiest. It's total anarchy in there. Look out for those kik-steps. Don't think they aren't looking up your skirt. One may be hidden from sight and regarding you right now.

Can you tell I've been reading an awful lot of poetry lately?

I wish I had a break this summer, but instead it's just going to get busier and busier.

I have a stack of Ohiolink books next to my bed. Next week, I am going to read them.

I had an experience of being riveted this week (poetically...) in a way that I haven't felt in a while. Unfortunately, I can't tell you about it. But trust me, it was remarkable. Still feeling the aftershocks (...).

Whoopsie.

My students tell me that all teachers have their lists of things they warn against. Some don't like gerunds. Some only like lines to break / where they logically would break. I know I have some rules of my own that I dispense, but I can't think of any right now.

Maybe there's something wrong with me, but I like it when writers make "mistakes" and make them work.

I was always told by teachers to explain a lot more. Why? Why? Why? Write in all of the information that's withheld.

No thanks!

Anyway, I wondered what you've been warned against doing, and whether you did it anyway, and whether it worked out for you.

My transgressions:

~ Writing poems that shift subject/theme in the middle, in a way that doesn't immediately seem purposeful, but is.

~ Writing poems about ideas. Poems shouldn't be about ideas! They should be stories about how your aunt dropped the gravy boat at Thanksgiving.

~ Writing poems with images that require unpacking and further consideration. I've been scolded for this. The titmouse sits on the telephone wire, and that is it.

What do you have to say for yourself, now?

PS: I did not smash that bottle of wine at Giant Eagle, but I wished I had.

On our side? Oh, most definitely not.

This has been an odd summer so far. I'm not a whiner, so I will avoid the bad stuff and comment upon the general strangeness of nightly frosts in June, time that speeds by like a bullet train, and an unusually large deluge of good poems cycling into my head every day.

I'm a to-do list girl. I have a hard time when the semester's over and I have to reassign particular tasks to particular times. My to-do lists have suffered. I try to write a new one every week. Sometimes I make abbreviations that I can't read. Not recommended.

I want to learn how to read for fun again. If I had the time, I would start a reading purpose journal and record every time I read something, and what kind of reading it is. When I'm not reading for work (student poems, contest submissions, mss by continuing authors) I'm reading outside for work (book reviews, books for the book club I moderate). The other night I read a bunch of Barn Owl Review subs, and it was such a thrill because I was only typing in comments and evaluating them, and because they were so damn good.

I want to go back to when I was a kid reading Anne Tyler novels at the pool. There was a kind of immersion that I had. I'd need to snap myself out of it with a big sip of Tab cola. Now, reading for a living, I feel like I'm always skimming, even when I'm not skimming.

Because, after all, there's just not enough time in the day.

Dear Readers, how do you read? For those of you who read a lot of articles and other things online, have you felt that your reading style has changed? And how? How do you switch from one kind of reading to the next? What's the secret to relishing it again? And hopefully it doesn't require saccharin.

On a separate note, I sent two submissions out into the world today and got the most magnificent high from it. I wish you all the same euphoria the next time you submit.

Submit.

Barn Owl Review #3: All Poetry, All Awesome