Welcome back, fall.

Welcome back, stove.

Tomorrow I teach my second GRE class and I am actually, I think, maybe more nervous for it than I was for the first. Will there be a disaster? What if I can't unlock the room? What if no one shows up? Why does the logo look so dumb? That's my mental soundtrack right now.

But I had another exciting-for-me small-business-owner first today, when I used my special business bank account, full of the money from the last class, to pay for printing and photocopying this week's materials. It's real money that can buy things!

Real school starts on Wednesday. I am excited but nervous about that too. I am still scrambling to put together my class on modernist poetry and just decided to have a course website for the first time ever. One reason is swine flu (we're supposed to make it easy for students to keep up from home so that they don't spread their piggy germs around) but really I just want to be able to add online readings throughout the quarter instead of choosing everything now.

We're mid-landscaping and my backyard is a field of dirt. It's scenic actually in an apocalyptic way.

It's official

I own a business that actually does business. As suspected, my course is good. We were all tired at the end, but it is, as I'd hoped, completely possible to get through the entire GRE in one day without rushing madly or skipping important stuff. If you or anyone you know wants to take the GRE or GMAT, or just wants to spend a fun Sunday, I have the course for you.

An illustration of the problem of trying to emphathize with your audience based on what you think they are thinking and feeling, which is especially

notable to me in the context of a lesson I recently received from a marketing professional.


Dear Zyzzyva,

In answer to your question, no, I am not "hurt because my manuscript was rejected." Are you kidding me? Anyone who has ever read for a journal or even just sent out poems knows that almost all of them get rejected and it's nothing personal and pretty random.

No, there's no need to ask for forgiveness "for returning [my] work and not offering comments or suggestions." After all, I didn't ask for your feedback, I asked if you wanted to publish my poems. If you don't, it's cool with me.

No, I am not "discouraged by this or any other momentary setback," and your letter does not alter or affect my sense of whether "the road is long and the struggle must go on." And frankly, I find it hard to imagine that anyone would want or need this particular pep talk. Anyone who knows your journal exists knows enough about the poetry business not to sweat a few rejections.

Definitely no, "when the Muse does visit again," I will not "give her [your] best regards." Ew.

And finally, no, I will not check the box that says "ZYZZYVA is beautiful and fun to read." I like a little modesty in my literary publications or at least charming immodesty in the name of interesting, articulated literary ambitions. I guess I am "grateful that such a magazine exists," but not so much for this magazine in particular. So, no, sorry, but I don't think I will subscribe, even for the low introductory price of $10.

Sincerely,
Me

New Favorite Thing

One of the nice perks of having a sister who does amazing human rights work in China is the pirated DVDs. On the cape, we started watching my birthday present, 30 Rock, which is hilarious, and although we didn't get as far as this clip, my sister and I watched it just before I flew home just because it's so funny. It has been in my head all day and is my new favorite thing:

Watch it! Even without knowing the show I think you will find it delightful.

Boys becoming men! Men becoming wolves!

Today in Misrememberings

Say what you want about Crazy Uncle Ezra [Pound], not to mention about Orientalism and cultural appropriation (all of which would be justified); I still think "The River Merchant's Wife: A Letter" has a taproot down into a deep and mysterious gorgeousness. I had a simple but stunning line from it in my head today:

"They comfort me. I grow older."

(Referring to "paired butterflies.") But of course, that's not the line at all. The line is:

"They hurt me. I grow older."

It's a strange transposition I made, and I wonder what it means.

Good things

Obviously, this here blog's magic, because since my last post TWO good things have happened:

1. Yesterday morning in the space of 10 minutes the enrollment in my next GRE class (for this coming Sunday) went from 0 students (and therefore canceled, like the others) to 4 students and a real thing! I've been trying to get this going for 6 months and it's very exciting to get to hold an actual class. Now for real I'm a small business owner!

2. I just got home to Seattle and found out that one of the poems I sent out recently got accepted by a great journal, and one I actually subscribe to, one I have been given gift subscriptions to by very beloved family friends! The envelope not only contained a handwritten letter from the editor, there was also a check for $200, which is by far the most I've ever been paid for a poem. Maybe the most ANYONE has ever been paid for a poem. That's not the best part, of course . . . I guess I'd say, little kiddishly, that the whole thing is the best part.

And now I'm here typing while Kitcat prowls around my legs, and even though I miss my New York family and friends a lot, it is nice to be home.