Kristin Bair, my longest client of more than 16 years, will release her forth novel, Clementine Crane Prefers Not To, tomorrow, October 14, 2025. I pre-ordered my copy. I read all three of her previous books and can’t wait to read her new one soon. Check out her website designed by yours truly.
things got terribly ugly incredibly quickly
things got ugly embarrassingly quickly
actually things got ugly unbelievably quickly
honestly things got ugly seemingly infrequently
initially things got ugly ironically usually
awfully carefully things got ugly unsuccessfully
occasionally things got ugly mostly painstakingly
quietly seemingly things got ugly beautifully
infrequently things got ugly sadly especially
frequently unfortunately things got ugly
increasingly obviously things got ugly suddenly
embarrassingly forcefully things got really ugly
regularly truly quickly things got really incredibly
ugly things will get less ugly inevitably hopefully
Terrance Hayes
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Ski and snowboard tuning include:
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I hadn’t heard of Ledisi before, but I sure had heard of Dinah. When I first got into jazz many years ago, I spent a great deal of time listening to Dinah Washington. Listening to Ledisi pay tribute to the Queen of the Blues, I get nostalgic. She kicks off the album with Dinah’s 1957 signature, “What a Difference a Day Makes,” with an intoxicating blues vibe. Ledisi has a big, soulful, smoky voice. She can scat like hell too—check out her bluesy rendition of “If I Never Get to Heaven.” Of course, she can also swing and her duet with Gregory Porter on “You’ve Got What It Takes” is a beautiful collaboration. With Christian McBride anchoring the double bass, Ledisi declares, “You don’t know what love is / Until you’ve learned the meaning of the blues.” For Dinah is a short and sweet tribute that is filled with the blues.
The days I don’t want to kill myself
are extraordinary. Deep bass. All the people
in the streets waiting for their high fives
and leaping, I mean leaping,
when they see me. I am the sun-filled
god of love. Or at least an optimistic
under-secretary. There should be a word for it.
The days you wake up and do not want
to slit your throat. Money in the bank.
Enough for an iced green tea every weekday
and Saturday and Sunday! It’s like being
in the armpit of a Hammond B3 organ.
Just reeks of gratitude and funk.
The funk of ages. I am not going to ruin
my love’s life today. It’s like the time I said yes
to gray sneakers but then the salesman said
Wait. And there, out of the back room,
like the bakery’s first biscuits: bright-blue kicks.
Iridescent. Like a scarab! Oh, who am I kidding,
it was nothing like a scarab! It was like
bright. blue. fucking. sneakers! I did not
want to die that day. Oh, my God.
Why don’t we talk about it? How good it feels.
And if you don’t know then you’re lucky
but also you poor thing. Bring the band out on the stoop.
Let the whole neighborhood hear. Come on, Everybody.
Say it with me nice and slow
no pills no cliff no brains on the floor
Bring the bass back. no rope no hose not today, Satan.
Every day I wake up with my good fortune
and news of my demise. Don’t keep it from me.
Why don’t we have a name for it?
Bring the bass back. Bring the band out on the stoop.
Hallelujah!
Gabrielle Calvocoressi
I don’t want to die in a poem
the words burning in eulogy
the sun howling why
the moon sighing why not
I don’t want to die in bed
which is a poem gone wrong
a world turned in on itself
a floating navel of dreams
I won’t meet death in a field
like a dot punctuating a page
it’s too vast yet too tiny
everyone will say it’s a bit cinematic
I don’t want to pass away in your arms
those gentle parentheses
nor expire outside of their swoon
self-propelled determined shouting
Let the end come
as the best parts of living have come
unsought and undeserved
inconvenient
now that’s a good death
what nonsense you say
that’s not even worth
writing down
Rita Dove
Tôi rất thích giọng hát đầy chất khói của Tuấn Hưng nhưng lại ít nghe album của anh. Mấy đêm nay lôi Nhạc…xưa của anh ra nghe. Anh hát “Niệm khúc cuối” như đang mượn lời lẽ của nhạc sĩ Ngô Thụy Miên để bày tỏ lòng mình. Với “Cỏ úa” anh trút hết tâm hồn mình vào ca tư của nhạc sĩ Lam Phương. Anh ca chậm rãi và nâng niu từng chữ một. Anh phát âm nhẹ nhàng và rõ ràng (hơn Mr. Đàm nhiều). Anh hát “Đoản khúc cuối cho em” của Hoàng Trọng Thụy rất có cảm xúc.
Not the pleasure of lovers but the pleasure of letters, a pleasure like weather, delayed and prepared for, not the pleasure of lessons but the pleasure of errors, of nightmares, of actors in the black box of a theatre, not the pleasure of present but the pleasure of later, the pleasure of letters and weather and terror, asleep by the lake, unable to answer, the pleasure of candles, their wax on the table, not the pleasure of saviors but the pleasure of errors, not the pleasure of marriage but the pleasure of failure, the pleasure of characters like family members, their failures and errors, their laughter and weather, the pleasure of water, terrible rivers, not the pleasure of empire but the pleasure of after, our failure to keep an accurate record, not the pleasure of tethers but the pleasure of strangers, the terrible strangers who will become your lovers, not the pleasure of novels but the pleasure of anger, your failure to answer all of my letters, the pleasure of daughters, the pleasure of daughters writing letters in April, the failure of orchards, the terror of mothers, not the pleasure of planners but the pleasure of errors.
Madeleine Cravens
I bought myself a Quanta R4.16 so I can play pickleball with other parents. I am not good at it, but it gives me a good workout. Many Vietnamese folks are now into this game. They play almost everyday at the park near my house.
I worked from home yesterday and decided to go to the park to skateboard at the court. When I arrived, there were a handful of Vietnamese adults playing pickleball. They asked me to join so I ditched my skateboard and played pickleball.
Yes, I started skateboard on Monday for the first time. On Sunday, one of the parents at Vovinam gave away his kids’ old skateboards and scooters. I picked up a Kryptonis cruiser skateboard. I started to use the skateboard to practice my snowboard carving. I could do heel and toe turns, but I couldn’t connect them together yet. I found this video from Home Daddy to be useful. I will try to follow his instructions.
Wednesday will be the LDVH dad volleyball night. I have been doing quite a bit of sports to keep myself active. I still rollerblade for a bit. I can’t wait to get back to skiing and snowboarding though.
Yesterday, I sold a pair of used skis for $100. I took my family to a Korean restaurant yesterday and spent $200. The food was good though.
Inhabitant of earth for fortysomething years
I once found myself in a peaceful country. I watch neighbors open
their phones to watch
a cop demanding a man’s driver’s license. When a man reaches for his wallet, the cop
shoots. In the car window. Shoots.
It is a peaceful country.
We pocket our phones and go.
To the dentist,
to pick up the kids from school,
to buy shampoo
and basil.
Ours is a country in which a boy shot by police lies on the pavement for hours.
We see in his open mouth
the nakedness
of the whole nation.
We watch. Watch
others watch.
The body of a boy lies on the pavement exactly like the body of a boy—
It is a peaceful country.
And it clips our citizens’ bodies
effortlessly, the way the President’s wife trims her toenails.
All of us
still have to do the hard work of dentist appointments,
of remembering to make
a summer salad: basil, tomatoes, it is a joy, tomatoes, add a little salt.
This is a time of peace.
I do not hear gunshots,
but watch birds splash over the back yards of the suburbs. How bright is the sky
as the avenue springs on its axis.
How bright is the sky (forgive me) how bright.
Ilya Kaminsky