This sounds great. I look forward to reading.

Me too, Cathy. That is good news!

Jayne

This is about to fall off the front page, so I'm risking your ire to bump it up. I like reading your good news, damn it, and I have this to report of my own.

I'm just back from a wonderful trip to the UK: two big family parties--my mother's 70th birthday and my cousin's wedding; an Eratosphere lunch; a great play at the Wanamaker; a lovely evening at Keats's house; etc.

Last night, back in California, I went to a book launch inSanta Cruz for the new book put out by the publisher who will be doing mine down the road: The Night Bridge by Wilma Marcus Chandler, Hummingbird Press, 2016. Big success and most handsome volume, so congratulations to Wilma.

But here's what I really want to tell you: in England, while browsing in Foyle's, I renewed my intention to get hold of a copy of the poems of John Clare and spend some real time with them. Limited pounds sterling and limited luggage space kept me from buying a small Selected in London, but last night I found a used Essential Clare in Santa Cruz--the perfect pocket sized paperback for my ambitions. Well, $4.80 seemed a tad steep for a dinky, aging paperback. But when I leafed through it, I found it had been signed by its editor, poet Carolyn Kizer, who had added this inscription: "for Adrienne, with love from Carolyn, the New Year 1993." Santa Cruz, remember--so this has to have been Adrienne Rich's book, right?, and sold to the shop after Rich's death... I don't know Kizer's work at all, but I'm enjoying her essay on Clare. I do like much of Rich. But I thought some of you might enjoy this adventure in marginalia, which is tickling me greatly: these poems have gone from Clare's hands to Kizer's to Rich's, and now they're all mine for less than five bucks.

A wonderful story about your copy of Clare, Simon! – Jonathan Bate’s fine Biography for Picador / Farrar, Straus and Giroux 2003) has an excellent appendix that surveys the vexed question of the ownership of the copyright in Clare’s verse and the way it has affected publication over the past fifty years or so. Bate’s Selected (Farrar, Straus and Giroux 2003, Faber and Faber 2004) is also a most useful volume.

No especial news to add, except that, as an atheist, I am attending a carol concert this evening at the church in Penistone, Yorkshire, not far from where I live. It looks to be a night of typical Pennine weather.

Clive Watkins

Simon,

You needn't worry about bumping this thread - we all love to hear good news and it's about time it was revived anyway!

It was great to see you in London for the Spherean lunch with John, David and Nico - and to hear your news of finding that book on arriving back in California. We didn't get around to talking about the Isle of Man and Maughold though, did we?

Clive,
After last week's gathering I was reminded of the one we had at The Trout in Oxford; it was over five years ago, amazingly. How time flies!

My good news is that my husband and I have decided to revamp part of our house, starting over Christmas while he's on holiday, which involves some demolition and re-building; I don't enjoy the mess and the hard work, but I love the results afterwards!

So, it's a hard hat for me over the festive season, not a paper one . . . :rolleyes: (Bah humbug!)

Jayne

Poetic license
 

It was a bit like the carol "King Wenceslas" yesterday in the Big Apple: snapping cold with a blasting wind; the only lack was caked snow on the ground: there was snow in the wind though, in bursts. (And the seven day Roman Saturnalia begins tomorrow on 12/17, so be kind to Saturn ! maybe he will reciprocate.) Anyway, it was very brisk and brusque out of doors and I and my wife had driven to a remote shopping center to buy groceries where we could park. For years the car had a slightly tilted license plate holder in front. Something had bent it, and though I had tried to wrest it straight several times, it resisted. And it made it easier to find from afar in a parking lot full of similar looking cars.

In the USA, some states require only a rear license plate; New York requires one in front, too. If you lose a license plate through theft or otherwise you must replace it via a well-papered bureaucracy, and worse, the current plate offerings are colored a repulsive and hard to read yellow and black, versus the previous style, which was blue on white that I like and I have retained it since I could do that. You don't want to have a plate stolen or lost. Bureaucracy, documentation, explanation, and fees.

The parking lot for the store was fullish and a fire-fighter truck was up on the curb as I noodled toward the store at 3 mph. I had to pull into a narrow lane to pass it. I was worried about any pedestrians popping out or other vehicles coming the other way, especially police or fire vehicles.

Suddenly there came a rapping as of someone firmly tapping, pounding, pounding, loud resounding, banging on my auto door. I stopped and looked: 'twas just a cop and nothing more! I rolled down the window, admitting flying snow, and said, "Uh-oh, what's wrong. I'm sorry!" But the policeman was smiling and through the open window had handed me my front license plate. He said,"Your license plate just blew off the front of your car. Here it is!" I couldn't believe it at first, but there it was, road dirt and all. After a moment, I thanked him completely, and he smiled again. Rolling up the window, I moved the car slowly to a spot and verified from outside that I had lost and he had found my plate, and that consequently I didn't have to tap the dance bureaucratic.

After shopping, I stopped at a minimal gas station (just pumps) to ask where I could find a repair shop. Up strolled a really, really well-insulated street man who said he could remount my plate then and there for a few bucks. Then he produced some simple hand tools and a starter screw, and did the job.

Good news: no lost plate; no bureaucracy; nor any hassle. What are the odds that a policeman would hand me my freshly lost license place in the freezing wind, and that an incredibly warmly dressed street mechanic would appear at just the right time a few blocks later?

......

I was doing some Christmas shopping today and carting around several bags, then stopped at a place on Sixth Ave. in the Village for a cup of tea to warm up and rest. As luck would have it, I left a small bag behind. I noticed when I was almost home, called the place when I got home, and asked if they found the bag. Yes, came the answer, and I can pick it up tomorrow.

I have a strong feeling the woman who was sitting at the next table was the one who gave it to the proprietors, and am grateful.

Also recently saw five Almodovar films on my MOMA membership card, and every single one was hilarious and enlightening at once! What a fearless genius! That makes up for the previous month where they did not have one single film I wanted to see (as well as a few I had already seen).

Great stuff, Terese.

I also adore Almodovar -- for Rossy de Palma, alone! He’s had a love-affair with Madrid like Woody Allen with New York. I used to see Almodovar out and about in Chueca; you can't miss that hair. Whenever I see his films I get wistful for the crazy-beautiful romances I had in, and with, Madrid... *sigh*

This weekend we were in the neighborhood of the theater where Othello is being performed with David Oyelowo and Daniel Craig, so we stopped by hoping to score cancellation tickets. The show is sold out and the only available tickets online asked $1050 each. A woman approached us and offered us a single ticket for $50. We took it. I saw the first half and then gave my wife the ticket during intermission so she could see the second half. Our seat was literally the best in the house, in the front row, with no raised stage so at times the actors were so close you had to tuck in your feet to avoid tripping them. The rave reviews were entirely justified. It was magnificent. (But please don't tell me how it ends. I missed the second half. I'm guessing everything turned out just fine).

Roger,

Your story warmed my heart. Though not quite the same, the spirit of it reminded me of O. Henry's Christmas story, The Gift of the Magi. True love, indeed.

Roger! I've often wondered about those single seats... I think you've struck on a new way of attending theatre! Btw, it says something wonderful about you and your wife, too.

For now, I just want to say: Isn't this a great thread? I'm so glad I started it and you've kept it going by sharing lovely snippets of happiness in your lives. Thank you all for contributing.

Tomorrow I'm having a 1960s lunch party at my house . . . so I'll let you know about it afterwards!

Jayne

Here's a happy story from long ago. I was attending Richmond College in England and it was Christmas break. The campus was closed down for the break and most of my friends high-tailed it home for the duration and I couldn't afford such luxury. I had 10 days to spend somewhere with almost no money to spend on it. I bought a rail ticket to Edinburgh and found a run down hotel on Princes St., plunked down a chunk of money for a room and settled in to survival mode: walking, people watching, sight-seeing and reading – all of which could be done for free. That left me with enough spare change to subsist on cigarettes, coffee and various forms of bread and cheese.

I had found a café nearby that was comfortable and didn’t mind my lingering for hours nursing my allotted cup of coffee and sometimes a scone. The waitress was an older woman and she would come by from time to time and refill my cup which was like a little present each time she did. I sat, sometimes for hours, enjoying the moment of just being. I don’t remember seeing the sun or blue sky once during my stay. The whole time was a cloudy, wintery mix of rain and sleet and some snow. I was fascinated by the darkness of the winter days at that latitude. It gave credence to my idea that I was somewhere exotic. And cold. And dark. And wonderfully old.

On Christmas Eve afternoon, knowing the café would be closed on Christmas morning, I stopped in for my usual cup of coffee and stayed my usual couple of hours. Before I left I went up to the counter where there was a display case of goodies and splurged on a few shortbread cookies to take back to the hotel and feast on the next morning when everything would be closed (along with a cup of hot tap water instant coffee). The waitress came back with a box full of cookies and cakes and scones and handed it to me smiling and said, “They’ll just go to waste – Merry Christmas chappy”.

To this day I have not had a more memorable Christmas. I feasted on the gift of the box of sweets in the morning and walked the deserted streets of Edinburgh in the afternoon until dark. I don't know if it's my memory playing tricks on me, but I remember hearing Christmas music in the air all afternoon. When I came back to the hotel the manager had a plateful of sausages and other food I can’t remember or didn’t recognize : ). If I could time travel, that might be the date I’d want to re-visit. A happy memory.

What a lovely story, Jim. Edinburgh is a magical city.

My 1960s lunch party yesterday was great - and there was a lot of food left so I covered it all in cling film and fridged it. Today I had another couple of dozen friends here and we consumed the lot while we played board games for several hours . . . Sequence, Rummikub, Cribbage, Bananagrams, Mexican Train and Phase Ten.

Card games and board games tend to be a ''love 'em or hate 'em" thing, but most of my friends and I love all of the ones above, and many more too numerous to mention. So I've had two consecutive days of endless fun and laughter.

Jayne

I purchased a copy of Willis Barnstone's:The Secret Reader a few days ago and am merrily reading it beside the fire. I may take it out to the deer stand and read it there as well. So far, I love it. It's signed too, not to me, but it's still signed.

Terese Coe, I thought of you today.

The trailer for Almodovar's "Julieta" embedded here played today in my local art-house cinema. It's based on several of Alice Munro's stories, but he's set in in Madrid, of course. It's supposed to show in a few weeks. I can't wait!

Happiness is again being able to wear trousers with a 30 inch waist after 6 months of being a 32. Coincidentally, the 6 months were barren for writing, so I suspect flab depresses my creativity.

Inauguration day; Thinking of when I was 11 1/2 years old, and faked a sore throat (the only time I ever played hookey from school) to watch JFK's inauguration on our old Philco TV.

Robert Frost stood out in the bitter cold and recited a poem, which my mother recognized.

Now; I stay with her in her small lakeside house during the winter months to help her with daily tasks. She's still doing well at 92 years.

Biggest good news of the decade for me: last night I was accepted into Ohio State's Ph.D. program (my application was geared toward studying editions of early modern poetry, such as John Benson's Poems vis-a-vis Shakespeare's Sonnets). It was the first response of thirteen applications, so I may wind up elsewhere, but I'm extremely grateful that, despite being older than the average student, I've beat some fairly long odds to get in to at least one great program. Onward and upward!

Far less important, but still "good" and relevant to the 'Sphere: I'm taking a graduate writing seminar on formal poetry (specifically on the long poem) in my final semester at UMD, so I'll finally be writing poetry again, after a 2.5 year hiatus...

That's wonderful news, Shaun. Well done you!

You and Alan have both mentioned a writing hiatus, which I'm having too - and I think you may have sussed out the right reason for it, Alan!

My good news is that my lovely daughter and her husband have sold their house and got the [much, much nicer] one they desperately wanted, after a battle royal with the estate agent. The funny thing is, they'll be moving to the other side of the road, four houses up, so we shall have to carry beds, sofas, tables, everything, across the street. (Maybe we'll do it under cover of darkness - but then it would look like a ''moonlight flit'' :D)

Jayne

[moved ...]

I saw this bunch of people late at night
Removing objects from my neighbour’s house.
I watched them by the moon’s unearthly light;
They moved in silence, quiet as a mouse.

They boldly carted sofas, tables, beds
Across the street, and took the purloined stuff
Four houses up, the place that once was Fred’s.
A burglary in course! I’d seen enough!

Trembling, I dialled 999 to say
That I was witnessing a dreadful crime.
“We’ll send a squad car round there straight away.”
It came at last, although they took their time.

They knocked, four strapping cops, all uniformed.
The door was opened by the puzzled hoods.
“Sir, we have been reliably informed
That you are in receipt of stolen goods.”
http://www.ablemuse.com/erato/images...ttons/edit.gif

Not an intentional one, Jayne. A few pieces have emerged from the mire and one gained me that (high-status :rolleyes:) newbie mention.

Moving even a distance of 4 doors is bad enough. I recently moved 3 miles, and it was from fully furnished to unfurnished. But, overall - as befits this thread - I can say it went well, with no major problems. There are good household auctions in the area.
I hope the family move goes well, and no one drops a crate of glassware in the road at 3am.

Well, my GOOD news is, I am feeling much better after a very long time in the dumps. Thank you, God, or my brain.

William,

I'm very happy indeed to hear that you're out of the dumps. And I'm also very happy that Duncan was inspired by your poem to Kristine to write a poem about me.

Brian and Alan,
On second thoughts, maybe we won't help my daughter to move house across the road during the night! Let the neighbours gawp . . . ;)
The house they're leaving has a very steep driveway which has always made me slightly nervous, so the thought of carrying glassware . . . no, I'll stick to carting unbreakable stuff like curtains and cushions.

Jayne

I'm glad you're feeling better, William. And kudos for writing about the dumps. I suffer from them, too, and it's not easy to admit. Your post helps me, too.

My good news: there was a reading this week of What You Will, ahead of the June premiere at a small local theater. I got to meet five of the eight cast members (two haven't been cast and one lives in Canada) and hear them and other excellent actors read the play.

I was nervous that a woman has been cast as the villain, a male character, but she and the others will do the play very well.

The reading's main purpose was to convince me that the play requires further cuts, but instead the director learned that it's not as long as he thought, so I won't be pressured to cut anything that I feel is working. That's good news, too.

My good news: The beautiful black and white cat that we've been feeding for the last 5 years (we call him Quercus because he lives under an oak tree) reappeared after going missing for 4 days. We thought the alligators had him. [He is a Cat Who Walks by Himself and won't come indoors].

Also this week, Measure Vol XI issue 1 arrived, containing the Nemerov Winner & Finalists for 2015. If you don't have yours yet, it should arrive soon.

(I had thought that that cat was an Eratosphere lurker in Athabaska. You never know. Maybe there's a bunch of them out there in the oats.)

I have a workshop class at school. This weeks poem forum was a dead zone of zero attendance on all threads so in a odd mood I critiqued my poem myself. Finally some last minute student jumped on and said that they really liked the poem, that everyone had already said what they were thinking, and wrapped it in a bow. It was awesome. I have an MFA from Robinson Crusoe University.

I've got nothing to report myself, but I'm a fan of this thread and so am excavating it to the top.

Is it really true that nobody had anything good happen all of February?

Ok, I got a lil' sumthin.

I was at a poetry reading a couple weeks ago, sitting next to Robert Hass. My friend had pointed him out, but I pretended to not know who he was, especially as he just introduced himself as "Bob". I feel like he must get people gushing to him all the time, so as he didn't invite it, I decided to just let it slide.

After the reading, there was an open mic, in which I read my poem "You Can't Always Get What You Want" (currently on the met boards here—shameless plug). When I sat back down, Hass turned to me and went, "nice."

So, a vote of confidence ;).

That said, he probably would have said that to anyone.

After tripping once too often over the piles of books and magazines rising like stalagmites by the side of the bed, I vowed to go through them and get them organized. When I did, I discovered that I had two copies of Mark Jarman's Unholy Sonnets, both bought by me, for myself, thereby proving that my memory is already shot. So I offered one copy to the first requester on Facebook and found a taker quickly, and the book now lives with someone else who will love it.

Of the rest of the pile, the poetry books are at least in alpha order, on a shelf in the kitchen until I can make more room in the po collection proper. The magazines were a challenge. But I've found someone who will take them in installments, and in the meantime I'm posting on FB one poem from each of them, a few at a time each day. At this rate it will take me several weeks. But I'll be able to get out of bed in the dark without mishap.

I'm not sure I would have been able to resist the urge to smile at him with my finger up my nose. I bet he gets that all the time. Which, upon further reflection, may be the real reason why he introduces himself to poetry geeks simply as "Bob."

Julie, that's like the time years ago that I found myself standing side by side with Dustin Hoffman as we inspected a painting at the Museum of Modern Art. I would have said something, but I couldn't decide which was less original, "Plastics!" or "Is it safe?"

I'm happy that yesterday the independent thinkers at PRELUDE saw fit to accept one of my sonnets for their print journal.

Also, the publishing company I cofounded continues to bring good news all the time. This year, one of our books is a finalist for the Lambda Literary Award. Cofounder Risa attends AWP every year, and this year organized a reading and after-reading dinner party. Here's a (fairly giant apparently) photo of that:

https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eJZiOilo6...7%2Bdinner.jpg

Hah, I wasn't familiar with that poem but, now that I am, I guess I'll know what to do/say next time.

Warm greetings -- indeed, hot greetings -- from Thailand, my first visit.

The mangos are sweet as syrup. Bangkok is organized chaos, and sometimes simply chaos. I've smelled incense in the streets and hallways, jasmine in the gardens. I've seen lithe brown bodies bathing in the rivers. I've seen weeds flowering from the crevices of colorfully tiled chedi, and bodhi tree roots growing over ancient brick walls and framing the face of the Buddha. It's all quite entrancing, and I feel already the seed of one or two poems germinating inside.

Off to Cambodia tomorrow...

M

This is ridiculously cool for me, though it might not sound like anything to others:

Glenn Cornick was the first bass player for Jethro Tull, and probably the band's best all-around bassist (except perhaps for John Glascock, who is also deceased).

Glenn Cornick's son, Drew Cornick, who's a "friend" of mine on Facebook, commented on a photo of myself that I uploaded yesterday. Of course, I don't know Drew - I imagine he accepts friend requests from people who are huge Tull fans, and fans of his father, which I am (I'm also a bassist) - so I thought it was really, really cool that my post not only wound up in his radar, but that he actually took the time to comment.

Drew's comment on my photo was: "Looks like Hunter S. Thompson with slightly a bit (sic) more hair."

Ah, well. I would have preferred: "Looks like Hunter S. Thompson a young Yul Brynner with slightly a bit more hair." - but what can you do? :D

http://drewcornick.com/#
https://hstbooks.files.wordpress.com...9e8c047a_o.jpg
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?f...type=3&theater

My good news for the week (month? year? decade?) is that I've accepted a Ph.D. offer at the Ohio State University, where I'll be focusing on early modern book history -- probably with a specialization on editions of Shakespeare's Sonnets, and editions of early modern poetry in general.

I'm a little longer in the tooth than most doctoral students, but I'm both grateful and happy to be continuing down the academic path, despite the many legitimate caveats I routinely read and hear about the job market.