A Poem Called “The Thing”

Late.  Saturday night.  Still reading Erdrich’s The Plague of Doves, though self almost put it aside two hours ago.  Why?  Because she hates stories in which the characters never think (or prepare) for the future.  They live in the present, always the present, and they are happy there.  They assume that everyone who is with them will still be with them in five, 10, 15 years.  Which self knows very well isn’t true.  People get lost all the time.

The Man called son and they sounded amiable with each other.  Yet another development, since self began going regularly to Bacolod.  This is a good thing.  She can relax now.

So, anyway, she decided to continue with Erdrich.

But in the meantime, she picked up the Indiana Review (which always publishes great poetry) and browses through until she gets to a poem called “The Thing,” by yet another writer whose name is new to self:  Sara Michas-Martin, who “lives in San Francisco and teaches creative writing at Stanford and Goddard College.”

Self stopped at that poem because she has a story called, simply, “Thing,” that’s in the most recent issue of the New Orleans Review.

As she read “The Thing,” she thought how surprising it was that “The Thing” could just as easily have been about her story “Thing.”  Self means, the two pieces are about Other, Strange-ness.

And speaking of “Other,” self has just sent out a story called “The Lost.”  She was going to call it “Lost,” but didn’t think she could use that title without reminding people constantly of the TV show starring Matthew Fox and Evangeline Lilly.

So, enough with the digressions.  Here are the first few lines of “The Thing” (For the rest of the piece, self suggests reading Indiana Review):

The Thing

by Sara Michas-Martin

It seems to have
gently relaxed
into its thing-ness, as if
it found its shape
by falling
open. From its center
purrs a wave

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

Evening, Last Saturday of August 2012

Ceiling Fan, Bedroom

Self’s UCLA nonfiction class is ending.  Her next will not be until January 2013.

Can summer really, really be about to end?

Chalk Art, Palo Alto

So today, The Man and self were at the annual Palo Alto Festival of the Arts.  And the weather was really great.  Self was so proud that she passed all the booths and didn’t buy a single thing (though The Man successfully lured self into the Giants store on University Avenue and self ended up buying a pair of fuzzy orange socks for $14.  You see, The Man does not feel his day is complete unless he gets self to do at least one thing she never intended to do).

One thing about this fair that distinguishes it from all the other summer art fairs is the very many displays of glass art (Oh, there were a few of these in the Menlo Park Connoisseur’s Marketplace, in July, but Palo Alto has far more).

And there are many fine ceramics and metalwork displays as well.

One highlight of the annual event is the chalk art.  Today, the artists began their pieces.  We always come back at fair’s end (Sunday afternoon) to see the finished results.

Illustrator: Ever Galve, Fine Artist and Street Painter, a graduate of Cal State – Fullerton

Self got Ever’s business card, and here’s a link for dear blog readers who are interested in seeing more of this young man’s fabulous street art.  It all gets hosed away after the final judging.  Talk about ephemeral!

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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