The Blue Spider Plant
Today's soundtrack:
King Crimson 9/29/82 Munich, Germany
It is funny how memory works, how you can remember some things so precisely, and other things just slip away into an irretrievable void, like a a dream. The other day, I woke from a frightening dream where, as a consequence of something I did, a woman died. And then in a panic of poor judgement and bad choices, I decided to bury her in the sand. No sooner had I finished that miserable work, the woman started to move. She was still alive. Then, in a reawakening of ethics and responsibility, I helped dig her back out and called 911 for help. I don't remember what it was I did that caused the sequence of events to happen, and I don't recall anything after that, the only reason I remember this much at all is that I woke enough to type a few notes into my phone, which has replaced my bedside dream book.
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Saw this guy on Dry Hill
few days ago.
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This morning, my poem was about the intersection of memory and imagination. As I've interviewed my parents over the last few months, I've discovered discrepancies in what I remember from my childhood and from the stories I remember being told, and I am unclear if I have filled in the gaps in my memory with imagined stories, or if my parents' retelling is different. In some instances, I have filled in the gaps so vividly, that I can only believe my perception to be true, but I also recognize that my memories from the age of 4, or earlier, are embellished with the perceptions of a child. I would doubt the existence of those memories at all, except that I can recite things that startle my parents with their accuracy.
And yet, today, I Googled myself in a moment of procrastination. I'm not sure why that impulse came up. Amidst my namesake mathematician and K-pop star's brother, was an old story of mine from an online literary magazine. I read the first paragraph and realized I could not fully remember where the story went. It was as tenuous in my mind as my dream from the other night. I would read the name of a character and I would remember the name, but nothing else. I even remember the author photo I submitted, but the story itself feels ephemeral. I didn't have time to read the whole thing, but I'll return to it sometime, see how embarrassing it is.
I remember after publishing my first short story in a magazine I sent it to my high school English teacher, who in a feat of surprising academic tolerance, read all of my high school stories. Mr. Walker wore a bow tie, I think. Now that memory seems suspect. But I do remember he was ambidextrous, but his handwriting was equally atrocious using either hand. He handed out copies of each book we read, and I refused to return any of the books because I loved reading them too much, and he never demanded their return. I didn't see it as stealing, it was more honorable than that. I was changed after reading Walden, or Cry, Beloved Country or Painted Bird and I could not imagine a world where I could not return to those pages at will. He recognized that and did not demand their return. At home, the only books on my book shelf were the books I had from school, and a few others my parents gave me from yard sales, I remember a book about a rocking horse, a National Geographic history of the Earth, and a Boy Scout handbook (a substitute for actually joining the organization). But there was never any poetry or literature. All of those discoveries were mine and I could claim them by writing my name on the inside cover.
Mr. Walker wanted us to write, but I don't think he ever taught us about essays or dialectical arguments. For one assignment he held a pencil aloft and decided that was our paper topic, much to the dismay of the majority of the class. He divided the class in half and each week one half of the class had a paper due. He also held weekly vocabulary quizzes. I was a miserable quiz taker and routinely failed the quizzes. To make up for that, I wrote papers every week. They weren't papers really, but more stories, accounts from my life. He would read them, give little comments, suggest things to read. All of which served to increase my desire to write. I would routinely turn in 15-20 page stories, and he would faithfully read them all. Most of which, I'm sure must have been intolerable high school drivel. But he was a kind man.
I remember one class, the room was particularly cold and I sat with Leah on the heater unit by the window with the blue foam spider plant. He called the class to attention and asked Leah and I to sit down. We decided we were protesting because of how cold the classroom was, and he sternly sent Leah to her seat, and kicked me out of class for a week. He knew me well enough to know that I would arrive in class each day to try to sit in (I was turned away), but I did visit him every day after class to get caught up and talk about what we had read for homework. It was a playful thing that probably would not pass muster in today's world, but at the time it just increased my hunger and desire for literature.
Anyway, when I did finally send him a published story, his feedback was a little more pointed. He kindly wrote back, but he critiqued the lack of a coherent plot. And he was right. Most of my fiction was an attempt at post-modern time travel, the weaving of past and present, memory with reality, and moments in time that created a collage of sorts. The poet Dara Wier called it a bricolage (not my writing, but something Kathy Acker was doing), where each moment was a fully solid object, a brick, but then that brick was utilized to build something bigger that was just as solid and coherent. That is probably more conceptually coherent than anything I voiced back then, but I think that is what I was trying to do.
I guess I've been exploring this confluence of memory, past, and present for a long time. I have been building back up to writing fiction again. I don't know what will emerge, but something will. In a meeting today, one of GCC's art faculty, Jen Simms talked about the difference between practice, and a project. The constancy of turning something into a continued practice, verses the limited scope and frame of a finite project. I am glad that writing is still a practice for me. And I look forward to shaping that practice into some coherent projects at some point. But I am patient for now.
Close your eyes.
Rest.
And remember.
Leo
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Chickens taking a dust bath.
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From Our Friends:
From Diverse Issues in Higher Ed (GCC President, Yves Salmon-Fernández is a panelist):
| In the wake of George Floyd’s killing, the nation and indeed the world, has galvanized to call attention to police brutality and racist practices against African-Americans. What’s next? More specifically what can higher education do to facilitate lasting change?
Join us as we hear from national experts and scholar-practitioners who will offer creative ideas and solutions on how best to address education, campus and police reform. |
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From the NYT on the Supreme Court Ruling:
After Justice Anthony Kennedy retired in 2018, it wasn’t clear which category L.G.B.T.Q. rights would fall into. Kennedy had written landmark opinions on gay rights, including the 2015 legalization of same-sex marriage. And when Brett Kavanaugh replaced Kennedy in 2018, many civil-rights advocates were anxious. |
Yesterday’s big Supreme Court decision — holding that the Civil Rights Act of 1964 protected gay and transgender workers from workplace discrimination — seems to answer the uncertainty: Even post-Kennedy, the court still leans left on L.G.B.T.Q. rights. |
From Magna:
Our free Magna Online Seminar, The Role of Higher Education in Times of Crisis: Healing Strategies for Educators, is for academic leaders and faculty who are challenged with effective communication during a time of social unrest. This 60-minute online seminar will present you with direction to provide healing, helping, education, and engagement. |
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From NABCA:
From AVID:
Calling all Students and Educators! | | |
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| | Do you rely on your school for access to creative tools? Not during a closure!
Register now* and pay only $24.99 USD for a 3-month subscription to Pro Tools, Media Composer | Ultimate, or Sibelius | Ultimate.
Make this time your most creative yet. Get the tools that will keep you inspired. | | |
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I have a shared photo folder with my kids called,
Koreans are Taking Over The World and whenever I see something Korean
an a non-Asian location, I add it to the folder, like this shelf in Whole Foods. |
Today's Online Teaching Tips:
From D2L:
| | During the webinar, our experts will highlight:
- How to keep students involved, motivated, and engaged
- The importance of clear and consistent communication
- Research-based best practices for online teaching and learning
- How to help faculty adapt to an online environment
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