The bottom line, man

This voice, able to negotiate a range of octaves and encompass the acts of remembrance, anticipation, recognition, and repetition that occur in O’Hara’s songs, was making a picture. More than that, it was making a space for the singer’s words to not only allow the pain of impossibility that exists in separation, but also acknowledge great love. And I didn’t feel sung at; there’s no showmanship in O’Hara’s delivery. Her lilt is sometimes matter-of-fact, sometimes near breaking, other times strong and angry. It’s human and animal and real. I trust it.

From “Keeping You in Mind: On Mary Margaret O’Hara"
 

***
 

I wrote an essay about one of my favorite singers for The Volta’s Music issuewhich is full of all sorts of gems. 

This past weekend in Fayetteville was one of the best weekends I’ve had in a long time. I spent a few days in the company of some sweet, lovely, really damn good poets at The Next Poetry Festival, organized by Matt Henriksen. As I told Matt, the event left me hopeful about and re-encouraged re: poetry at a time when I’d been feeling pretty alienated from the stuff. 
Top to bottom left: Matt Henriksen introducing Tim Van Dyke; Pearl listening to poems; Sara Nicholson reading from ARK. 
Top to bottom right: yours truly climbing the ladder at Dickson Street Bookshop; Jane Gregory, Sara Nicholson, & Whit Griffin checking out some great folk art that Whit found when he and I stopped into Mystic Melon. 

This past weekend in Fayetteville was one of the best weekends I’ve had in a long time. I spent a few days in the company of some sweet, lovely, really damn good poets at The Next Poetry Festival, organized by Matt Henriksen. As I told Matt, the event left me hopeful about and re-encouraged re: poetry at a time when I’d been feeling pretty alienated from the stuff.
 

Top to bottom left: Matt Henriksen introducing Tim Van Dyke; Pearl listening to poems; Sara Nicholson reading from ARK.

 

Top to bottom right: yours truly climbing the ladder at Dickson Street Bookshop; Jane Gregory, Sara Nicholson, & Whit Griffin checking out some great folk art that Whit found when he and I stopped into Mystic Melon

fromtheplains:

americanguide:

THROUGH SYBILLE CANYON - WHEATLAND and LARAMIE, WYOMING

To get to Laramie by way of Wheatland in Wyoming you take Highway 34, a route traveling through Sybille Canyon. It’s also called the Wheatland or Laramie Cut Across. Starting out in farm country, the highway eventually climbs to over 7,000 ft at Morton Pass and the canyon walls give way to a sparse, almost perfectly flat landscape. Weather rarely cooperates during the winter and Sybille Canyon is closed on occasion. Snow, wind and fog will keep you on your toes.

* * *

Wyoming guide Christine Tharp is a photography, history, and cycling enthusiast living in Gillette, Wyoming.  When not working, she travels the open roads of northeast Wyoming in search of curiosities old and new.  More of her work can be found at FROM THE PLAINS and she’s recently started a Tumblr for The Rockpile Museum in Campbell County, Wyoming.

My latest contribution to the American Guide. Do yourself a favor by checking out all of the wonderful work recently posted to the AG!

It always amazes me that that little mark, almost the smallest we have—the comma—can change meaning so utterly. The period—the smallest—doesn’t have the same versatility. And with changes of meaning come changes of emotional burden and impact.

Lydia Davis   |   From an interview at The Quarterly Conversation
It’s now been over a month that I’ve been getting my legs about me as a librarian and Laramie-dweller. Laramieite? I don’t know the correct term yet. 
The trains here are something else, I’ve got good light and a name at work, I’ve been on a Lorine Niedecker kick, my first tattoo will be that red Margaret Kilgallen tree up there, and the snow globe—a small replica of my old neighborhood—arrived from my friend Mandy Olson by way of Seattle a couple days ago. 
I’m looking forward to giving a reading in Fayetteville, Arkansas in a couple weeks and welcoming Seattleites, a Memphian, and a Brooklynite to my nest in the coming months. 
I like calling this place home.

It’s now been over a month that I’ve been getting my legs about me as a librarian and Laramie-dweller. Laramieite? I don’t know the correct term yet.
 

The trains here are something else, I’ve got good light and a name at work, I’ve been on a Lorine Niedecker kick, my first tattoo will be that red Margaret Kilgallen tree up there, and the snow globe—a small replica of my old neighborhood—arrived from my friend Mandy Olson by way of Seattle a couple days ago.
 

I’m looking forward to giving a reading in Fayetteville, Arkansas in a couple weeks and welcoming Seattleites, a Memphian, and a Brooklynite to my nest in the coming months.
 

I like calling this place home.