Heat

I'm teaching a bunch of high school students up at Columbia this week, so not in the most poetic of moods, and yes, it's HOT in New York. The kind of hot where people on the street look slightly desperate and apocolyptic. I'm back at M's now, (in the AC zone) but still feel heat rising off my skin.

Here are some websites I've been enjoying of late:

this (for sick humor)
and this (for soulful witticisms and perspective)


Also, saw a literary star-studded reading at Galapagos last night, through the progressive reading series. Much to my surprise, it was hosted by my ex, who is apparently in town from California. It was only a matter of time before such a run-in took place and it was surprisingly normal, a little chilly, anti-climactic. The highlight for me was Paula Fox, who looked a little like a librarian in her sweet floral dress and (as Coles pointed out) elegant legs and stilled the room with her fiercely serious angrogynous voice. I'm not totally sure what was going on in her novel, (there's a woman who's called a heretic, a stolen dying baby...) but there were a couple of lines that gave me that top of my head coming off sensation. Something about love and hate, hating the baby because of the way she loved it, that voice speaking through you kind of truth you can't turn away from.

Also, I'm going to be teaching poetry at this cool new space in September.

The only other news really, is that I keep thinking about my friend Joaquin's apartment, which I saw for the first time the other night. It is quite possibly the most beautiful city home I've ever seen, a spacious floor through with clean lines and bleached floors and original art by friends and family on the walls. Money helps. The best part though, as M. pointed out, is that it seems to be designed to nourish the desire to MAKE more cool stuff...