Passing a Poem Along

I just stumbled upon this fine music-inspired poem by Hayden Carruth. Check it out over at poets.org:

Scrambled Eggs and Whiskey

Learning to Write ... and Duck

My parents, teachers, editors and colleagues have all made contributions to my development as a writer. I’m grateful for the guidance I’ve received, and I hold no one but myself responsible for any bad writing habits that may have rubbed off in addition to skills and wisdom. In deed, there will be a long list of people to thank when I accept the awards for this dazzling essay, written in a moment of inspiration after twelve hours at school and an hourlong commute on slick roads – from Mrs. Wilson, who praised my second-grade poem about an avocado plant, to Professor Barlow, who found nice things to say last semester about a ten-page, dead-end meditation on the (almost entirely imagined) connections between the American Primitive guitar music of John Fahey and the dive bars of Oneonta.

One jerk who won’t make the list is Jim H. He was my first boss, the supervising editor at a small Upstate New York paper that hired me as a reporter fresh out of college. With Jim screaming for copy and literally breathing down my neck on deadline, I learned some critical lessons about writing in the world of daily newspaper journalism, many of which apply to writing in other contexts:

1. When you’re trying to convey information to your readers, substance is always more important than style, and simplicity will often serve the message better than complexity.

2. You have to know the rules of grammar and usage in order to break those rules in effective (i.e., forgivable) ways.

3. Nothing you write can be absolutely perfect or complete, whether your deadline is ten minutes or ten hours away. But that’s okay, because there’s always a chance to follow up in the next edition.

These tidbits have stayed with me over the years, but not because Jim was a positive role model or sagacious mentor. He hurled advice at reporters across a busy newsroom, sometimes accompanied by insults and the occasional paperweight.

Another thing that I learned from Jim was that a person should never attempt to simultaneously kick three serious addictions (booze, caffeine and cigarettes) while going through a nasty divorce, and a supervisor should never verbally abuse an employee at close range when that supervisor has recently fallen off one or more of his proverbial wagons, even with the precaution of a curiously strong breath mint.

He taught me a little about writing and a lot about how not to manage a newsroom. I brought the experience with me a few years later, when I took over the job that he had lost because of his foul temper and conduct.

So thanks for the advice, Jim, but you can kiss my ass. I’ve still got a paperweight with your name on it.

I just stumbled across this site, of interest to fans of pre-WWII acoustic blues ...

Honey, Where You Been So Long?

Getting Jiggy

Last Friday, I took part in a traditional jam session at "The Green House" on the campus of my alma mater, Union College. Here's an .mp3 of the group playing a set of two Irish jigs:

Swallowtail Jig/Tobin's Favorite

I was one of three or four guitar players strumming and picking away under the strains of fiddles, mandolins, piano and pipes. I played rhythm behind the first tune and tried to pick out the melody of "Tobin's," but I couldn't hear over the din to tell if I was even in the same key, let alone playing the right notes. But that's one of the joys of large sessions -- plenty of room for experimentation and clams.

Onward and Upward? Or Just Elsewhere?

Sunday was my last shift as an editor on the copy desk at The Daily Gazette. I'm officially unemployed -- for a week. On Monday, I'll start courses and my tutoring job at UAlbany. I've signed up for three courses (Faulkner, "The Literary Reputation," and a workshop in short fiction), which should provide enough intellectual labor to keep my brain smoking and popping for the length of the semester. 

I will have the summer off from school, though I will be teaching a section of Intro to Journalism. In the fall, I'll write my thesis, which I'm hoping will be a creative one -- in the form of a collection of short stories or a novella -- rather than a traditional academic research-and-analysis paper. People have been asking what it's going to be about, and I try to put it in a nutshell for them, but it simply won't fit. So sometime this semester, I'll write up a prospectus for the thesis, and I will of course paste a copy on this blog for my loyal readers to ponder.

Yesterday, Jen and I took the boys to the state museum in Albany. They had a great time on the carousel, though sitting in the spinning tea cup made me want to hurl. Here are a couple of shots:

 

Saratoga Stampede: The Herd Multiplies

Well, the Saratoga Stampede Rugby Football Club had its first gathering for prospective members/players last night. We were hoping to have a turnout of about 20 people, and we got 34, so it was a big success. If you missed the meeting but are interested in participating (either athletically or socially or both), check out the website and get on the e-mail list. Check it out: www.saratogarugby.com

Correspondence from Abroad

Yesterday I received the following dispatch from my friend Duncan, who's an Air Force radar/computer warlock stationed in Germany. He agreed to keep my blog readers posted on his travels:  

 

I was in the UK for seven days.  This was a work trip so there were two jets and crews out there.  I almost didn't go since I came down with a head cold the day before we left.  I probably shouldn't have gone since I got almost no flying done on that trip.  We flew out on Friday, without turning on the systems on the jet, had the next three days off.  Tuesday we canceled for weather, and the next two days my cold came back with a vengeance.  So feeling like crap I got on the jet again the following Friday to fly back and get a bit of training done.  Lincoln is a college town, so there were no shortage of clubs and pubs.  The only issue was that the hotel, cathedral, and castle were on top of the hill and the clubs were at the bottom.  This may not sound that bad, but the walk was about a klick and all of it was up or down a 70 degree slope.  "Steep Hill Rd"  The coolness factor of wearing my black leather chucks and seeing the trenchcoat blowing behind me, was destroyed by panting for breath in the cold air.  After the first bar, where I was hit on by women in their 40s (who were all married to officers in the Royal Air Force) we ended up at a dance club.  This just wasn't my scene so I just ended up drinking lots of Guiness and blending into the walls.  I probably should have tried to find another place since everyone seemed to love my American accent.  I think the cold walk and smoke filled clubs was what brought my cold back.  The Lincoln Cathedral <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lincoln_Cathedral> was originally built in 1072, but was much smaller than the current incarnation.  Fires and earthquake had pretty much destroyed it.  The Lincoln castle, not really much of a castle anymore, started out as a Roman fort.  <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lincoln_Castle>  William the Conqueror had a castle built inside of it.  In victorian times it was home to a jail and courthouse.  The courthouse is still used today.  Also on display there was one of the original copies of the Magna Carta.  I didn't realize that over 40 copies were created, one for each baron.  Only four survive today.  This one was amazingly well preserved, only King John's seal was lost.  Also this historical turn of power was only in effect for nine weeks before the king had the pope annul it.  It was brought back with a few changes after King John's death.  I just got back on friday and have spent the weekend trying to get over this damn cold. 

View photos from Duncan's trip here: DUNCAN'S TRIP