I am having an interesting week. One in which I search for a literary agent.
I work in publishing. That and $2.25 will get you a ride on the subway. Except it actually does have little perks. I was totally perplexed about creating this new relationship between me and the agent. (I love that this year has been filled with new things, eg: running 5k races, finding an agent.) And so I knocked on the door of a trade publisher and asked if she had 5 minutes. She said yes. For the next ten minutes I asked her questions about agents and she gave me really great answers. Oddly the one sentence that sticks out in my mind is: write from where the passion is. (Which has nothing to do with finding an agent.)
And as we talked I realized a couple of things. I'm going to use my guts. I'm going to follow my instincts. And above and beyond that -- I'm going to let the agent who is right for me, appear in my life.
And today, I received a rejection letter from an agent. Which is totally awesome! (Note: I might be one of the few people who likes being rejected.) The reason why I like being rejected: I don't want to work with you if you don't want to work with me. For real.
I learned this when I farmed. I did not want to do business with people (or retail outlets) who weren't in love with my vegetables.
My real customers loved me and I loved them.
I also don't mind that I was rejected by one agent because there is an ocean of agents and editors out there. And I have my book with another agent. And if s/he rejects me, it'll be onto another one.
Folks. It's all good.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
So said Karen O
"Thank you for coming to our dress rehearsal." So said Karen O, last night, at the conclusion of Stop the Virgens at St. Ann's Warehouse. (Which opens to the public tonight through October 22.) It's too bad karen O has said the show is a "psycho opera" because that minimizes the show's cultural and artistic value. This could be the long-awaited riot grrl response to "Tommy" (by The Who). I didn't are for a second that there was no discernible plot although I would have like a play bill or hand out with the lyrics so I could follow along. I mean this is an opera. Can I get super titles here?
How would I describe the performance? In one word, "mesmerizing." Too bad I'm no good at reviewing music because I could go on at length about the catchy hooks, a seriously intense (and stellar) line up of musicians, and the chorus. Yes, the chorus, directed by Debra Barsha.
I might also characterize the show as "Bjorkian." But taken to a whole nuther level. There was something dark and luscious, primal yet refined.
If there are any women's studies/media studies phd candidates out there, you need to get your asses to this show. Your dissertation could be based on this one show alone.
More than anything I was stoked to see a female performance artist go the distance. I remember seeing Karen Finlay with the yams (way back in the day) and Karen O (whether she knows it or not) benefits from the foremothers (and aunts and nieces) of performance art. Marianne Faithfull? Suzie Quatro? Yes, Karen O needs to be sending them thank you notes but better still she's produced Stop the Virgens which could be viewed as a love letter to creation myth, feminism, and anarchy. Did I mention the catchy hooks?
I would have liked a smidge more movement from Karen O and a tiny bit more variation from song to song but overall the 9 songs hold up together individually and collectively.
And I was stoked to be on the 300+ guest list for family and friends. "Karen O thank you for having me at your dress rehearsal."
How would I describe the performance? In one word, "mesmerizing." Too bad I'm no good at reviewing music because I could go on at length about the catchy hooks, a seriously intense (and stellar) line up of musicians, and the chorus. Yes, the chorus, directed by Debra Barsha.
I might also characterize the show as "Bjorkian." But taken to a whole nuther level. There was something dark and luscious, primal yet refined.
If there are any women's studies/media studies phd candidates out there, you need to get your asses to this show. Your dissertation could be based on this one show alone.
More than anything I was stoked to see a female performance artist go the distance. I remember seeing Karen Finlay with the yams (way back in the day) and Karen O (whether she knows it or not) benefits from the foremothers (and aunts and nieces) of performance art. Marianne Faithfull? Suzie Quatro? Yes, Karen O needs to be sending them thank you notes but better still she's produced Stop the Virgens which could be viewed as a love letter to creation myth, feminism, and anarchy. Did I mention the catchy hooks?
I would have liked a smidge more movement from Karen O and a tiny bit more variation from song to song but overall the 9 songs hold up together individually and collectively.
And I was stoked to be on the 300+ guest list for family and friends. "Karen O thank you for having me at your dress rehearsal."
Monday, September 26, 2011
Last week I decided to emerge from my shell, for one week. It’s been a year of forestry and novel writing and I needed a break from both so I decided to turn up the heat on my urban social life.
Monday evening rolled around and with nothing better to do I texted a friend to meet for dinner. We ended up at Porsena. As we were catching up at the bar, I realized that we probably should have been in a locker room rather than a civilized dining establishment. (My friend M is almost as blunt as I am when it comes to conversation and he isn’t even a Sadge.) I looked up from the first of many glasses of sparkling white wine and noticed that Jim Courier had just entered with a good looking woman. I thought it was his gf but after googling realized it was his much younger wife.
I had a pleasant first-taste experience when I tucked into a bowl of nodi marini, sailor’s knot.
Tuesday night I met one of my former assistants, L, for bon voyage drinks. She’s heading back to the West Coast. She’s finally able to laugh about the night we went out drinking 5 years ago and she got so hammered she threw up on me. (This has become one of her favorite New York City stories). It’s her, “I threw up on my boss story.” I finally got to hear her side bc she didn’t used to have a sense of humor about this incident and refused to speak of it. I filled her in on what happened after she threw up on me and passed out in the cab -- I had to go through her purse to find her license and hoped that it listed her current address. (It did. Phew.) Her roommate was super-surprised when I came through the door with a completely inebriated L hanging on my arm.
Wednesday night I attended Let Us Eat Local, Just Food’s annual gala. If you haven’t been -- but you love food sourced from local farmers, prepared by well-known (and/or famous) chefs, washed down with local wine, beer, or spirits – you should go. 2012 will no doubt be as stellar as the previous three events. Let Us Eat Local does not disappoint.
Thursday afternoon I handled the distribution of the veggies and eggs at my CSA and then hopped in the car to jet to the country.
Friday and Satuday were a mish-mash of country living. Getting the house inspected, removal of invasive species (plants), a visit with a contractor to bid on some repairs. In the evening I watched Dead Man and The Fly. (Purchased at KMart for $5 and $7.50 respectively.) It occurred to me that both movies were the directors at their best. Nothing like unwinding one's mind to Jim Jarmush and David Cronenberg. More like wrinkling one's mind.
Sunday was a day I had been looking forward to for some time. The Jack Kerouac 5K in Lowell. I was stoked for this race, mostly I was ready to see what I was made of. (The course in Lowell wasn't nearly as bucolic or hilly as the Granby Steeple Race.) I managed to take note of a few things along the way: the large hill between mile 2 and 3 that was treelined and the only part of the course in shade, a kid who appeared to be selling drugs out of his car, the fact that the finish line seemed to be too far away from the mile two marker.
Monday thorugh Sunday: enjoying myself and pushing myself. And that folks is how I spell LIFE.
Totally skipped the Sabbath last week. This week I will attempt to learn how to spell SLEEP.
Monday evening rolled around and with nothing better to do I texted a friend to meet for dinner. We ended up at Porsena. As we were catching up at the bar, I realized that we probably should have been in a locker room rather than a civilized dining establishment. (My friend M is almost as blunt as I am when it comes to conversation and he isn’t even a Sadge.) I looked up from the first of many glasses of sparkling white wine and noticed that Jim Courier had just entered with a good looking woman. I thought it was his gf but after googling realized it was his much younger wife.
I had a pleasant first-taste experience when I tucked into a bowl of nodi marini, sailor’s knot.
Tuesday night I met one of my former assistants, L, for bon voyage drinks. She’s heading back to the West Coast. She’s finally able to laugh about the night we went out drinking 5 years ago and she got so hammered she threw up on me. (This has become one of her favorite New York City stories). It’s her, “I threw up on my boss story.” I finally got to hear her side bc she didn’t used to have a sense of humor about this incident and refused to speak of it. I filled her in on what happened after she threw up on me and passed out in the cab -- I had to go through her purse to find her license and hoped that it listed her current address. (It did. Phew.) Her roommate was super-surprised when I came through the door with a completely inebriated L hanging on my arm.
Wednesday night I attended Let Us Eat Local, Just Food’s annual gala. If you haven’t been -- but you love food sourced from local farmers, prepared by well-known (and/or famous) chefs, washed down with local wine, beer, or spirits – you should go. 2012 will no doubt be as stellar as the previous three events. Let Us Eat Local does not disappoint.
Thursday afternoon I handled the distribution of the veggies and eggs at my CSA and then hopped in the car to jet to the country.
Friday and Satuday were a mish-mash of country living. Getting the house inspected, removal of invasive species (plants), a visit with a contractor to bid on some repairs. In the evening I watched Dead Man and The Fly. (Purchased at KMart for $5 and $7.50 respectively.) It occurred to me that both movies were the directors at their best. Nothing like unwinding one's mind to Jim Jarmush and David Cronenberg. More like wrinkling one's mind.
Sunday was a day I had been looking forward to for some time. The Jack Kerouac 5K in Lowell. I was stoked for this race, mostly I was ready to see what I was made of. (The course in Lowell wasn't nearly as bucolic or hilly as the Granby Steeple Race.) I managed to take note of a few things along the way: the large hill between mile 2 and 3 that was treelined and the only part of the course in shade, a kid who appeared to be selling drugs out of his car, the fact that the finish line seemed to be too far away from the mile two marker.
Monday thorugh Sunday: enjoying myself and pushing myself. And that folks is how I spell LIFE.
Totally skipped the Sabbath last week. This week I will attempt to learn how to spell SLEEP.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
9/11 Update: 10 years later
I could tell you every single thing that happened to me on September 11, 2001. But that would be an awfully long post. What I remember most was not that I couldn’t believe it had happened, people are killing each other every day, what I wanted to know was how would I live my life in the aftermath. Would I change? Could I be better? On 9/11 I stood on 5th Avenue hugging a total stranger (Trudy) and we watched and cried as the first tower collapsed.
As the years have worn on I have been surprised at how little the world has changed. If nothing else it all seems to be a larger mess than it was on 9/11/01.
At the time the planes struck the Twin Towers I was sick and dying but didn’t know it. I had been reading texts on Zen around that time and started to play around with putting what I read into practice. In 2005 my illness took a sharp turn and it became clear that I was in very bad shape. I ended up having life-saving surgery. After that I started to play around more with what was possible with my consciousness.
In 2006, a full 5 years after the towers were toppled and 1 year after I had surgery I finally started to figure out where I wanted to take my life.
2006 served as Chair the Board of Directors of the Ali Forney Center
2007 completed a certificate course at the Institute of Integrative Nutrition, completely altered my eating
habits counseled clients in holistic health care. As I’m counseling people I realize that diet plays the
most significant role in a person’s well-being, start to wonder if I should farm. Resign from the
AFC Board of Directors
2008 decided it was time to head off the grid, saved money for some kind of new endeavor, volunteered
at the Liz Christie Garden
2009 quit my day job, spent the growing season operating an organic market garden in W. Massachusetts
and remained convinced that significant social change can be achieved through diet. In the autumn I
earned money picking apples in Leominster, MA. Spent the year living below the threshold of
poverty.
2010 returned to New York City, worked part-time, started to write part-time
* While I was farming I kept thinking about Malcolm Gladwell’s book Outliers. He makes the case that to be really good at something you have to have spent 10,000 hours practicing whatever that something is. I realized the only thing I’m any good at -- and have spent 10,000 hours doing -- is writing.
2010 switched to a vegetarian diet, continued to allow my consciousness to expand through meditation,
worked on forestry projects (invasive species removal and an improvement cutting on 52 acres)
2011 continue working part-time, writing part-time, forestry, and finally start long-distance running
September 11, 2011
This will be my day off for the week. I do my best to observe a Sabbath of sorts. Saturday I will have completed my first race, I will have written (I’m in the home stretch of completing the novel), and I’ll probably cook a nice dinner and have a couple of beers to commemorate those who were killed.
---
What I’ve decided is this: To be angry about what happened on 9/11/01 is to react. I have lived my life as a response. I want to die having attained the highest level of good that I can achieve. I want to die having done the best I could for myself and those around me. I want to die knowing that I did not settle.
I feel really bad for all the families who lost loved ones on 9/11 and I think we owe it to those innocent people who were killed to live full lives and to make the world a better place.
As the years have worn on I have been surprised at how little the world has changed. If nothing else it all seems to be a larger mess than it was on 9/11/01.
At the time the planes struck the Twin Towers I was sick and dying but didn’t know it. I had been reading texts on Zen around that time and started to play around with putting what I read into practice. In 2005 my illness took a sharp turn and it became clear that I was in very bad shape. I ended up having life-saving surgery. After that I started to play around more with what was possible with my consciousness.
In 2006, a full 5 years after the towers were toppled and 1 year after I had surgery I finally started to figure out where I wanted to take my life.
2006 served as Chair the Board of Directors of the Ali Forney Center
2007 completed a certificate course at the Institute of Integrative Nutrition, completely altered my eating
habits counseled clients in holistic health care. As I’m counseling people I realize that diet plays the
most significant role in a person’s well-being, start to wonder if I should farm. Resign from the
AFC Board of Directors
2008 decided it was time to head off the grid, saved money for some kind of new endeavor, volunteered
at the Liz Christie Garden
2009 quit my day job, spent the growing season operating an organic market garden in W. Massachusetts
and remained convinced that significant social change can be achieved through diet. In the autumn I
earned money picking apples in Leominster, MA. Spent the year living below the threshold of
poverty.
2010 returned to New York City, worked part-time, started to write part-time
* While I was farming I kept thinking about Malcolm Gladwell’s book Outliers. He makes the case that to be really good at something you have to have spent 10,000 hours practicing whatever that something is. I realized the only thing I’m any good at -- and have spent 10,000 hours doing -- is writing.
2010 switched to a vegetarian diet, continued to allow my consciousness to expand through meditation,
worked on forestry projects (invasive species removal and an improvement cutting on 52 acres)
2011 continue working part-time, writing part-time, forestry, and finally start long-distance running
September 11, 2011
This will be my day off for the week. I do my best to observe a Sabbath of sorts. Saturday I will have completed my first race, I will have written (I’m in the home stretch of completing the novel), and I’ll probably cook a nice dinner and have a couple of beers to commemorate those who were killed.
---
What I’ve decided is this: To be angry about what happened on 9/11/01 is to react. I have lived my life as a response. I want to die having attained the highest level of good that I can achieve. I want to die having done the best I could for myself and those around me. I want to die knowing that I did not settle.
I feel really bad for all the families who lost loved ones on 9/11 and I think we owe it to those innocent people who were killed to live full lives and to make the world a better place.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Sunday mornings
The second to last thing I want to do in the morning is get out of bed. The last thing I want to do in the morning is get out of bed and go running.
This might sound odd but during the heat of July I could not feature running. My body wasn't in great shape and I didn't want to hazard the ills of urban running (pollution and heat exhaustion). There was no way I was going to get up early to avoid the heat and pollution. Unh unh.
When I was in the country I decided that mowing the lawn constituted a form of training. Sunday morning I'd hop out of bed bright and early, throw on clothes and sun block, and get to work!
Keep in mind that my lawn is over an acre in size. After wearing a pedometer I came to find that I was walking 4 miles while mowing the lawn. I decided to make this an athletic event by doing it really quickly. The fastest time I ever logged was two and a half hours. I'd return to the house drenched in sweat and in much need of water, a shower, and a nap.
Now that the weather has cooled I’ve started my Sunday mornings getting out of bed (early) and going for a run. For a few weekends I ran in the country and I had sort of made a pact with myself that I would never race. (Spirit colors? Unh unh.) Then as I started running and reading about running I realized that the only way to bring the sport into focus was to have a goal, otherwise it was nearly impossible for me to gauge if I was making progress.
I’ve decided to specialize in 5Ks -- mostly because there are so many of them I can run at least one per month. I’ll run a few 10ks, just for laughs, and I hope to g*d I never run a marathon but I suppose it is within the realm of possibility. (I swore I'd never play golf and let’s just say, now I play golf.)
My training had been haphazard until I realized that I was going to run a race. I went from building up to running a mile (to get into shape) one week, to running three miles (looking to finish a 5k) the next. I’m not terribly concerned with my time right now especially since I’m not taking the most sensible approach. I’ve decided on a goal for this weekend’s race: finish in one piece. I’m running 12-minute miles but that includes some walking. I want to get a couple of races under my belt before I decide where I want my time to be. And I’d like to cut out all the walking. (There’s a woman in my age group, and region, who is running 8 minute miles – she’s set the bar rather high but at least I know what to aim for.)
This morning I was reading an article on Runner’s World and there was mention of running negative splits as the race wears on. Yeah right.
There’s only one crimp in my training program over the next couple of months. Hunting season begins, which means I might have to run in the city. The thought of running in the city makes me want to give up running altogether.
It looks like I’ll be taking the car to Jerzee to measure a 5k distance and a 10k distance and start commuting in order to exercise. A couple of weeks ago I did some sprints on a high school track in NJ and I was beyond annoyed when I flew past a son and father who were seated on the bleachers and one of them said, “I think it’s a woman.” That comment brought me right back to my youth when I was given endless amounts of shit for nonconformity. In the near future I’m hoping to let my time speak for itself. I’ll drag my tranny ass across the finish line and let the clock do the talking.
It’s just amazing to me that I’m 45 years old and for the past, oh, 40 years I’ve had to listen to people speculate on my sex and gender. And most of the time other people are talking serious amounts of smack: judging me, trying to tell me who I should be, how I should dress, etc etc.
Over the past couple of years I was flying below the radar but I can’t feature that anymore. I’m not going to be one bit surprised when I get flack about my gender once I start racing. The big surprise will be when I don’t get any looks or comments. (I’ll be sure to let you know when that happens.)
In the meantime, my spirits are not the least bit dampened. I plan to race and get good at it.
This might sound odd but during the heat of July I could not feature running. My body wasn't in great shape and I didn't want to hazard the ills of urban running (pollution and heat exhaustion). There was no way I was going to get up early to avoid the heat and pollution. Unh unh.
When I was in the country I decided that mowing the lawn constituted a form of training. Sunday morning I'd hop out of bed bright and early, throw on clothes and sun block, and get to work!
Keep in mind that my lawn is over an acre in size. After wearing a pedometer I came to find that I was walking 4 miles while mowing the lawn. I decided to make this an athletic event by doing it really quickly. The fastest time I ever logged was two and a half hours. I'd return to the house drenched in sweat and in much need of water, a shower, and a nap.
Now that the weather has cooled I’ve started my Sunday mornings getting out of bed (early) and going for a run. For a few weekends I ran in the country and I had sort of made a pact with myself that I would never race. (Spirit colors? Unh unh.) Then as I started running and reading about running I realized that the only way to bring the sport into focus was to have a goal, otherwise it was nearly impossible for me to gauge if I was making progress.
I’ve decided to specialize in 5Ks -- mostly because there are so many of them I can run at least one per month. I’ll run a few 10ks, just for laughs, and I hope to g*d I never run a marathon but I suppose it is within the realm of possibility. (I swore I'd never play golf and let’s just say, now I play golf.)
My training had been haphazard until I realized that I was going to run a race. I went from building up to running a mile (to get into shape) one week, to running three miles (looking to finish a 5k) the next. I’m not terribly concerned with my time right now especially since I’m not taking the most sensible approach. I’ve decided on a goal for this weekend’s race: finish in one piece. I’m running 12-minute miles but that includes some walking. I want to get a couple of races under my belt before I decide where I want my time to be. And I’d like to cut out all the walking. (There’s a woman in my age group, and region, who is running 8 minute miles – she’s set the bar rather high but at least I know what to aim for.)
This morning I was reading an article on Runner’s World and there was mention of running negative splits as the race wears on. Yeah right.
There’s only one crimp in my training program over the next couple of months. Hunting season begins, which means I might have to run in the city. The thought of running in the city makes me want to give up running altogether.
It looks like I’ll be taking the car to Jerzee to measure a 5k distance and a 10k distance and start commuting in order to exercise. A couple of weeks ago I did some sprints on a high school track in NJ and I was beyond annoyed when I flew past a son and father who were seated on the bleachers and one of them said, “I think it’s a woman.” That comment brought me right back to my youth when I was given endless amounts of shit for nonconformity. In the near future I’m hoping to let my time speak for itself. I’ll drag my tranny ass across the finish line and let the clock do the talking.
It’s just amazing to me that I’m 45 years old and for the past, oh, 40 years I’ve had to listen to people speculate on my sex and gender. And most of the time other people are talking serious amounts of smack: judging me, trying to tell me who I should be, how I should dress, etc etc.
Over the past couple of years I was flying below the radar but I can’t feature that anymore. I’m not going to be one bit surprised when I get flack about my gender once I start racing. The big surprise will be when I don’t get any looks or comments. (I’ll be sure to let you know when that happens.)
In the meantime, my spirits are not the least bit dampened. I plan to race and get good at it.
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