Still here. Mostly

Someday I will empty my camera's memory card, and then post a few here. Like I've been meaning to do. Since March.

Otherwise, I am almost finished with HP scarf #4. It isn't my fault that Gryffindor colors are very close to maroon and saffron.

I'm heading off to Austin for a few days next week. My first time flying in robes. (blech, airport security). And then busing to upstate NY for the Palyul summer retreat.  HH Karma Kuchen Rinpoche is scheduled to be there this year. I am super excited to see him again.
Him, and all my dharma brothers and sisters.

Today around 5 o'clock I took a break from my cushion and sat in a coffee shop to work on a transliteration project I need to finish up before I leave and I thought that a decaf coffee wouldn't be too bad. I finished about half of a small cup, and now, at 2am, I have decided that it was a Very Bad Idea.

Archives

Today I listened to an Allen Ginsberg lecture on William Blake from January 8th, 1979.  I was (would be?) born three years later - to the day.  I've been listening to things that have literally been sitting in a box collecting dust for the last thirty-five years until they were turned digital a few months ago. Thirty-five years.  It boggles my mind.
I find I have a lot more enthusiasm for this job when I work with the really early materials. I started listening to things from 2010 but handed it over to the workstudy. I sat through that in person. I don't need to hear (most of) it again. When someone listens to 2009, I'll be run across - a five minute reading during week one of SWP.  Listening to all this stuff, some crap, some awesome takes a different flavor when you realize that many of these people are dead. Some before I was born. These tapes have been sitting around longer than I've been alive. I will sit and listen to Allen Ginsberg lecture on Blake for the next couple week. (ugh.)

From what I've heard so far: Gregory Corso is crazy, crass, hilarious and mean all at the same time. Diane di Prima is strong but too rough for my liking.  Bill Berkson is great.  Rochelle Kraut has some really great poems.  Timothy Leary was pretty hilarious. Allen Ginsberg knows a whole lot and sings often. Anne Waldman is fun to listen to (but she tends to scare a lot of people in real life). I could listen to Anselm Hollo read a phone book. Also, Neil Gaiman. [I think Naropa should invite Neil Gaiman to teach a class. Or just do a reading. I refuse in advance to house manage that event. We will have to beat people off with sticks. Figuratively speaking. PVC pipe or dowels, to be more literal.]  Ted Berrigan isn't the greatest teacher. [Did he know he was going to drink himself to death three years after he taught this class?  What would he say if he was told that thirty-three years later a nun was going to be listening to his class and judging his personality entirely on a ninety minute lecture? What do you say to the future?] Things like this cross my mind frequently. In a class from 1979, Ginsberg referred to 'a computer-machine,' and discussed about either air mailing books to the school or 'putting them on a Greyhound.'  I like listening to these and hearing quips like that which constantly force me back to that generation and think in terms of that time.
 Unlike the history lecture Amiri Barak gave in '78 which could have been given yesterday. The information hasn't changed. (And that fact scares me).

In other news, I went to the dentist on [Chotrul Duchen no less, which, someone pointed out to me, is a miracle in itself.] I had to go back. Irritated by that. A few stitches later and all is well. Until a few hours later I had a few stitches rip out (while my mouth was still mostly numb, thankfully) because I needed the bear hug more than I needed stitches.  Apparently I will sacrifice a whole lot for a hug. My mouth is still a bit tender.  No complaints. Not many, anyways.

Six months

Today marks six months ordained. It feels like both no time at all and forever.
Not in a bad way. Five months till retreat.

It is also almost Losar. One more day of duns. It has been a really hard week, but there were good points too. Clean laundry one day and a six hour nap another. I'm not dead yet. That is always a bonus.

Which reminds me. Apparently (the remaining members of) Monty Python are coming out with a new movie in the spring. That made today *much* better. Robin Williams will also be part of it.

The memorial/passing away ceremony for Anselm Hollo was very nice. Way more people showed up for it than originally planned. The sound set up for the reception (one guitar) was horrible (but then again, so was the room acoustics) but, thankfully, no one seemed to mind too much, except to tell me to turn it up. The musician didn't know that he was going to have a mic, so he wasn't too picky. I realized though, how much being around crew during these events is important. There wasn't a booth to hang out in alone, and I didn't know 95% of the people except by reputation (mostly writers). What can I say. I was bored. I didn't have any crew to commiserate with. Luckily a former classmate of mine / now SWP staff was there, and he was in the same boat as me so to speak. So we sat and talked about the archives for most of the time.

And then I got to lug the powered monitor and etc. back to the tech closet. This time I used a dolly.

Anselm Hollo

I will miss him. I never had the opportunity to take his class and I'm sad about that, but he had one wicked sense of humor, and his voice, with his finnish accent, was fabulous. I could listen to him read a phonebook. (as the saying goes).
(I stole the banner from the Coffehouse Press website.)

Official note from the University that arrived in my email:
Naropa University is very sorry to announce that Professor Anselm Hollo passed away this morning following a long illness. Anselm was one of the pillars of the Jack Kerouac School and a great friend to Naropa and beloved mentor to hundreds of students and inspiring poet to countless readers around the world.

“Naropa University has lost an extraordinary professor and friend,” shares Naropa President Charles Lief. “Anselm exuded European culture, Beat truth telling, and ordinary human kindness and grace; He was a fearless and outspoken poet-warrior and will be greatly missed by our community and the big world he so profoundly touched.

“Anselm Hollo arrived at Naropa in 1985 at a very key time in the development of our year-round MFA program. He brought his vast knowledge of surrealism, European poetics, experimental poetics, and translation to the classroom and deftly took students through those poetic paths,” says Anne Waldman, Core Professor, Co-founder of the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics, and Artistic Director, Summer Writing Program. “A much loved member of the large and distinct community of Front Range poets, we will all keep strong the memory of the twinkle in his blue eyes, his wry sense of humor, and deep and resonant laugh. We are in gratitude for the panoramic poetics wisdom he generously shared with us these many years. We loved him and his poetry.”

“Professor Anselm Hollo was an inspiring poet, translator, teacher. His work has influenced many writers both inside and outside the classroom. His engagement with the written word generated beautiful verse, humorous speech, and exceptional space around language,” says Michelle Naka Pierce, Director of the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics. “The faculty, staff, and students of the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics have lost a vivid example of a writer today. Anselm Hollo “fought the hungry ghosts here on Earth” and will be deeply missed.”

Anselm’s wife Jane Dalrymple-Hollo and children Kaarina and Tamsin were with him during what Jane described as a peaceful death. Naropa has lost another of our treasures, who will be greatly missed. A memorial for Anselm is being planned for some time next week. Details will be announced.

Stupid should be painful

And I deserve a migraine.  Happy full moon everybody.

Thanks google images for the image.

Ya know its going to be bad when...

So this morning (noon) I got a panicked sounding email from Production Manager saying to email him ASAP and then a text from Stage Manager asking if I wanted to ASM for a show this weekend. I called SM and began with 'This is a funny text to get on a Thursday afternoon.'
I agreed (of course. Ego absolutely forbid me to do otherwise), but I would have loved at least one day of tech.
And there went my weekend.

I've worked this show the last couple of years and it is a showcase of different performances, mostly dances. I ASM*-ed for this last year** too. There were sixteen different acts and it took me every minute of tech to organize it.

Yay.  [phubbbtttttt]

Which reminds me that I need a new pair of black pants soon. I definitely won't be able to wear robes for this.


Random fact of no importance: I found glow-in-the-dark ducktape online. So I had to order some. I'm not sure quite what I'm going to use it for, but I needed wanted it. It should arrive in the next couple days. Whoot!


Someday I'm going to write a short glow-tape poem/prayer to end entries with. Like Red Green's man prayer.  "I am a man. / And I can change. / If I have to. / I guess."
Someday.


*The official title is ASM - assistant stage manager. Which generally means taking direction from the SM (stage manager), and relaying cues. I prefer the more unofficial title BSM - (backstage manager,) since we don't often use headsets and I have no contact with the SM during the run. (and when we do actually set up the headsets, I pretty much ignore it anyways). Also, BSM (Bullsh** manager), which, depending on the cast and/or the crew I'm attempting to train, pretty much sums it up. [My 'ordained voice' says that's a mean thing to say, and my 'techie voice' is giving me a high-five and passing an energy drink]

**To clarify, the performers of this show last year were awesome and really easy to work with.

Friday.

It's Friday. Its a three day weekend. The best email to hit my work inbox this week was a reminder from the head of security that the campus would be closed on Monday.

Back when I was in AmeriCorps I would be doing service projects on Monday, or sitting through lectures. And if I still resided in Minnesota, I'd probably be doing the same. But I don't.

So I'm sleeping in.

And then making tormas for Rigdzin Dupa tsog.

Three days to meditate, work on pechas, and increase the dragon herd.   (I might go hide in a tree)