Portland bound

Rae,

Angel enjoys walking on the leash, although she prefers keeping to one spot. Basking in direct sunlight and rubbing her back this way and that on the sun-warmed gravelly sidewalk appears to overrule actual walking. Sound a little Chauncey-like? I keep her leash and harness on a nail inside the coat closet by the front door. When I shake them, she comes running. She knows and shows, in dog-like fashion (Shh… We shan’t tell her this.) what’s up. She stands without moving—well, she manages a few flicks of her tail—while I snap the harness in place. Then we’re off to look for dragonflies or bask in the sunshine.

You have joined Second Life. Theory Masala. I like it! So how’s it going? I’m hesitant to add any new online pursuit to my list of social activities. It all requires so much time and keeps me away from the great outdoors and face-to-face relationships. Finding balance is sometimes difficult.

Speaking of time, I don’t have much of it left for puttering about the house and letter-writing—I’m off to Portland now. The AHA Conference is this weekend. I’m pleased to tell you that Joyce Carol Oates will receive the 2007 Humanist of the Year Award.

Catch up with you soon.

Yours truly,
Toni

P.S. Have I mentioned how much I enjoy making a feast out of hardboiled eggs?

first life

Toni,

That photo of Angel is too, too much! Congrats on adding just the right tough with the heart shape! So, what does she think of it? Does she struggle or complain? I tried it once with Chauncey (my gray cat that preceded Andre) when we lived in a frat neighborhood, but he just tried walking backwards to get out of it and ended up laying down, refusing to budge. He was a rather fat (though usually spritely) cat.

So, I finally did it. I finally joined Second Life. It’s been on my mental to-do list for months, but with UBB’s new website launch, new spring titles, and new web-related efforts (Unbridled Books is now on Flickr, YouTube, MySpace, and we have several blogs), I didn’t have time to explore Second Life. From everything I’ve heard about it, it’s quite addictive, but I need to know if it’s good for the press so I’m willing to risk it. I created a personal account just to get a feel for it, but I haven’t gone beyond selecting my name and downloading the client.

It took me 30 minutes to choose my name.  You can choose any first name you want, but last names must be selected from a list. A few were real last names (none of them my own), a few looked too weird to be names (but you never know), and a few were… well, a few were what I narrowed my options down to: Kidd, Writer, and Masala. Kidd, because of Chip Kidd. Writer… that’s obvious. And Masala because I love Tikka Masala and it just jumped out at me. I tend to go with theorist (lowercase) for my usernames, but that doesn’t make sense when paired with a last name, so I switched to Theory (after considering Fade). Theory Writer and Theory Kidd were both taken, so I am now Theory Masala. Yes, it’s a tasty theory! I hope I don’t come to hate it, since it can’t be changed.

These Warner/Maxwell letters are taking forever to read. I’ve now decided that it’s my secondary reading book, and I need to choose another book for primary reading. I have a few manuscripts to read, but it’s nearly impossible to make manuscripts primary reading selections because of the format. You remember how that was with FC2. I don’t need to make a decision immediately, since I have an article due on Monday that I haven’t started writing and Le Spouse’s brother has lent us his car while he’s away, which means we’ll be out and about this weekend.

I’ve been invited to join a book arts exhibition in September, so I have a few ideas I’ve been mulling over. I’ll share those soon…

Have a lovely weekend,

rae

sweet butter and waterworks

Dear Rae,

After reading your letter, I got up from my desk and went over to the two double-shelf bookcases that are under the large window next to my bed. I reached for The Element of Lavishness, sat down on the bed and began thumbing through its pages looking for something nourishing.

Suddenly, as I am walking along the street, a phrase from your letters rises to the surface and a sort of transubstantiation occurs. I mean I feel like sweet butter. (Maxwell to Warner, May 9, 1961. Page 104.)

Sweet butter. Sweet butter and waterworks… Our dear Maxwell is such a loveable person.

I wouldn’t worry too much about all those ideas that never make it out of your head. Good thoughts (or good characters, if we’re speaking of imaginative thoughts) come with time. At least, that’s what I tell myself and it works to keep me focused on fleshing out one idea at a time.

Amritvēla is considered the “ambrosial hour,” or the time before sunrise; it’s a favored time for prayer and meditation. As a child, which means long before I began the journey of Sikhi, I was an early riser. These days I try to steer away from as many unecessary labels, shoulds/oughts, and enslaving expectations as I can. As the cliché goes, life is short. Some people may be wired to function at their best in the morning and other peoples’ sails may catch wind at midday or later; neither time is quote “better.” Whatever’s good for you—1am and up at 10am—is best. I salute you, my friend.

I know you can give me many reasons why it’s good that you are no longer in Tallahassee, but since you mention hating going out in the rain, I thought you should know that Tallahassee has been listed as the 9th rainiest city in America. I question this ranking, especially after stepping into my garage this morning and inhaling the bitter smoke that has drifted into the city from nearby forest fires and those in South Georgia. I mean we’re in the midst of an awful drought and we’re a rainy city. I’m currently having to go against one of my deepest ecological and conservation convictions and (use one of earth’s precious resources) water the St. Augustine grass in the yard before it dies and the homeowner association’s Yard Nazi comes after me (more about this guy some other day). But we’re the 9th rainiest city in America.

Le Spouse’s comment and your picture have me eager to try your fennel and blue cheese with penne.

Yours affectionately,
Toni

P.S. Here’s the picture of Angel walking on a leash that you requested.

kitty cup

Rae,

Do you remember this?

The cup? The desk? I should say, the same desk on which this book was resting when someone (Ahem!) first learned about SAY-tahn—that would be the correct pronunciation of seitan. Devilish moment, eh?

Since you passed the kitty cup on to me last summer, it has become my favorite “cha” cup at work.

In case you are curious, the illustration of the two falling birds you see in the picture is a photocopy of the one that was used in The New Yorker’s publication of T. Coraghessan Boyle’s short story about a flying cat; “Swept Away” is set in the Shetland Islands. Sometimes when I am sipping tea I glance at it and think about the wind, the sound it makes as it whooshes through palm fronds or patches of sea oats. I also think about sharing—see how one bird, even as it is “swept away,” attempts to share a minnow with the bird with which it has become entangled?

Boyle has this to say about his story:

Then I began to write stories. I went up to the Sierra Nevada. I always do. And the first I wrote is a very whimsical piece based on the notion, I had read about the windiest town on earth, it’s in the Shetland Islands and cats blow by, so I wrote my flying cat story called “Swept Away.”

This extract was taken from an interview with Boyle at Identity Theory.

Windy, SAY-tahny regards,

Toni

P.S. A view from the last time I was sitting among sea oats.

P.P.S. Do you think cats actually “blow by” in the Shetlands? Do we need to visit and find out for ourselves? Maybe we can find some good tea there, too.