Thursday, May 3, 2007

Process Paper G1-5/Goddard

It’s a beautiful day in May, despite the normal distaste for modern life, I can’t help how wonderful it is to be here in the thin Rocky Mountain air, and yes, it truly is a pleasure to live in Denver. The pleasure is all mine today, and it is with great satisfaction to be within moment of a post office excursion. I don’t know for sure which one I’ll go too, it all depends if I can afford the time it’ll take to go downtown and fight the crowds. I may go the south station and mix with the Russians, that crowd isn’t as cumbersome since I am a good foot taller than the average Russian. More than likely, I’ll go to the little PO in Pappas Market because there is a big shot of Ouzo waiting for me next door at Chef Zorba’s. Whatever is the case there are a few absolutes here: Packet 5 leaves my desk today, it’s a beautiful day, and despite the crowds, I have a tremendous feeling of wellbeing and peace.

As I look over the hardcopies of packets one through four to my left I’m a little dumbfounded at the amount of work I actually did. The packet waiting for this process paper and a postmark at my right seems so small. And I am reminded of a few things… I knew a fella named Rudy who was an old timer when I met him back in the mid eighties. “Inch by inch it’s a cinch,” was what he like to say. As a teenager, I didn’t care much about his ramblings, old man as he was. He cut the paychecks and I washed the dishes. Perhaps I should have retorted, “dish by dish it finishes.” The second thing I’m thinking of now is the cabin I lived in during the summers of 1995 and 1996. It never ceased to amaze me how tall the grasses had grown by the end of the summer, and I never noticed the power of time until summer’s end. So, seeing this big stack of paper I could think of the forests of Oregon not being as tall as they once were, or I could think about the page at a time building of this first semester in this program. I opt to think of the latter.

I feel good about the work in this packet. I enjoyed the Denis Johnson text. I read most of the stories in the car when Chris and I rode up north to Ft. Collins. The discussion of it with him lead me to the conclusions I made in my annotation. Likewise the Kotzwinkle Elephant Bangs Train I read aloud, at night and to myself. The story I chose to annotate was my favorite, and one I may want to revisit or read to someone else sometime. The last annotation was a rewrite of one I wrote months ago when it was cold and nasty outside. This revision is more focused, more relaxed and it was easier to write than the first attempt. However, I feel like it would be best for me not to let so much time go between revisions. Live and learn, right?

I have enclosed the third attempt at my Charles Johnson paper. I will not lie, the short critical paper was probably the most challenging thing for me this semester; however, the third time I visited my old friends on the Republic made the most sense to me. Likewise, during this last vision of the revision I got a tremendous idea for the second critical paper. To be expedient with the acceptance of short critical paper number two will we have time to talk about it during the residency? It’s a relief to say goodbye to Johnson’s Republic and a flirting hello to Kotzwinkle’s elephants. Well, we’ll see. Oh, one last word about the first short critical paper. I double-checked the EyeWitness website for proper citation. I simply followed their directions on how to cite their source.

Now for Omma… I apologize to the thin installment this packet. I’ve enclosed the next chronological chapter, and I’ve added the last chapter. There is much more in between. I had a great daydream sequence, which was omitted moments ago. It was excessively plagiarized. I love this piece, but it is practically the same as In Vivo Gastank Worms that I used for another story entirely. I fit well, but it doesn’t feel right to pass it off as something new when it is anything but, so no gastank worms right now. I wanted another day mare, dream reverie, as Ashling gets deported. Poor Carmichael, everyone seems to get deported or dead in his world. For me however, I finally found a death for Omma, which makes good sense. I’ve been dwelling on her death since Carmichael picked the first mushroom. I’m very eager to see your responses to this chapter, and oddly enough, I am eager to rewrite it. The last chapter is what it is. It came to me one morning when I was in that painful process of getting out of bed too early. I wish I could remember the thoughts that occur to me in the half dead half-lucid state before waking. It was a cold morning on a bench and it was the last day of Ansbach, as I pulled out of sleep more I realized it was the logical conclusion to the story. I don’t know yet if it’s the logical incarnation as I’ve written it, but it’s definitely the end, as they say.

I watch a documentary on Charles Bukowski this week. I thought about you and your thoughts of poets being the tenders of the garden. He must’ve gardenscaped with weeds, but he inspired me to think about reading some poetry. I’m already thinking about the bibliography for next semester, and it certainly won’t hurt me to read some poetry.


All said Kyle, I’m off. I’m going to celebrate a beautiful day in May and the very idea my packet five is on your desk, and not on mine.

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