How (or Where) You Spend Yr Other 72 Hours

My galpal Layne and I slipped ourselves out of our weirdo Elwoodian suits last weekend and reclothed ourselves in the rad fashion of Bloomington. Spoiler alert: this post has nothing to do with fashion!

We buddied down with my main pal Darrin and like we do, we got chit-a-chatting about Life and Living and What Are We Doing? He said some cool things about people being constrictors about Work and Knuckleheads of sleep, but really what matters is what you do with yr "other 72 hours*," meaning the ones you don't use sleeping and working. (*number based on if you're one of those 8 hrs of sleep and 40 hrs of work/week kinda ppl.)

The Best Hum I Know

I spend my 72 doing stuff like watching King of the Hill and playing disc golf and writing/reading poems and trying to get Layne to like me more (probably to the opposite effect). All this I can clap my hands at, back in my face, because they make me happy and less shitty (or at least not more shitty) and HEY LOW HARM(-ish).

But man, that sweet hum of disc golf, that's where it's at, that's where I'm at most, both physically and in my head, the sport that kept me getting out of bed, out of the house when I felt like a malfunctioning fog machine, the sport I turn to four or five times a week to relax, to get out, to yap with my fellow dg enthusiasts.

I'm no super-stud dg specialist, but I dig dig dig it and hey ain't that enough?

I'm a good putter, probably from all that extra practice in my first year on the course, my playing pal back then one of those always 15 min late kinda dudes, and me, back then, of the always 10 min early type, so boom, almost a half hour of putting a few times per week. I have these stringy arms and am kinda goofy-footed, not to mention two throwing shoulder dislocations over the past year, so I've never been one of those WOW zing far kinda guys. I try to cuddle my discs, get to know how they feel, then toss them out there, get some good putt looks, approach shots on a string.

I "grew up" on the Muncie course, that BIG park on the city's east side, hulk trees and bumps, seedy river creeping on a couple holes. I became a real disc golfer when I started playing the Elwood course, newly extended to a full 18, tech course cut out of a dump, plenty of punishment, brush and saplings, a rusted fender to send yr plastic soaring.

I play disc golf to see the zings, chatter with the real people, get to stomp around in the woods/park for a couple hours, watch my body launch those pretty colors through the sky.

Hole 15

Bloomington's course at Crestmont, really the only worthwhile course of the three in Bloomington (Surprising that hip town hasn't built something better into the side of a wooded hill), is not a course where I go to be challenged. It is one of those courses I play because each hole is a reminder of what is cool about the sport, a varied course, nice nature (rolling hills, cool trees tucked in bunches), little punishment, a bunch of ppl of various levels smiling and throwing, 18 holes of fun.

I've played it a half dozen times before, way back in the beginning to now at my best, and what I've always appreciated about it is how each hole seems to have an over-hang branch shading the pad or a hill equaling major uncertainty, an add-in that intimidates and can set you around the other way if you blink like a bonehead.

But like I said, little little punishment. Even if you hit the hulk tree that caught yr eye, even if you couldn't scale that southern Indiana hill, yr second shot will probably be a highly playable 150 ft shot. It lacks the zing-required fairways of Muncie or the nature traps of Elwood. Yet there is something super endearing about those little spots, those wicked blips.

Hole 12

The most challenging part of this course is the last four holes, up and down hills, back and forth through the chunks of woods before dropping you back at yr car. No bomb shots still, but awesome use of hills and growth to create important lines, like 15, where you feel king atop the course, then you gotta slip through a gap two pads wide, both control and snap gotta be check-marked to cut in, through, and down this hill, like 18, a 250+ anhyzer up a hill, my arm more rubber than expected at the end of the round.

Despite the low challenge of this course, I still really get stoked to play this course because it has some serious ace runs, a variety of drive requirements, and is a good choice to take new player-pals for their early rounds.

RAD THINGS OF OCTOBER

I've been meaning to do a monthly series of things I dug over and over or bought or was given or dig or laughed about or etcetera in the previous month, mainly as a reminder to myself, but I haven't done it (OBVIOUSLY). I'm a week late on the first one, which seems appropriate.


Deep Shit by Stale Champagne
No sucky sad face here. Sure, not as good as Stale Champagne, but daammmmnnnn this album wins the raucous award, dark dark in its clang. I'm sure "The Basement" slithered itself onto my favorite song list so so fast. "I've been livin' in the basement of the world. Sleepin' under a table and worshippin' Satan 'cause of a girl."

Sleeping Bag LP by Sleeping Bag
Took way long to buy this album why? Oh well, wore it out on Bandcamp, HERE LISTEN. Friend said, he mumbles a lot, and yes he does, but it's lovely. They play songs at their own pace and THAT IS SO PERFECT. I like to listen to this in the shower.

Hank by Abraham Smith
I'm stlll figuring out how to talk about this album (something I hope to do in a long essay DO IT soon) but for now, I'll post this video of Abe getting his Hank on (I know I know done that before or twice):


Cowboy Maloney's Electric City by Michael Bible
Here's my Single-Sentence Review. If I ever get my own Vouched Books table, this is one of the first fiction books I'm ordering.

Editing Stoked
We had a busy past month: finishing Volume III (see you in December sucka!), already got a few pieces for Volume IV, assembling our next chapbook (Travis Macdonald's erasure of the Wartime chapter of The 9/11 Commission Report, called "The O Mission Repo: Time"), and accepting our first full-length book for publication (more on this soonsoonsoon). DUH I'M STOKED.

Dating Sara Again
After almost 6 months of being broken up and a few months after our divorce, we decided to try dating again. People say weirdos; we say hey. It's slow and paced and cautious and loving and somehowsafe and FUN. I'm done being an idiot (I hope).

Half Moon Brewery in Kokomo, Indiana
One of our first dates this time around, Sara and I dug this place bunches. MORE THAN OUR WALLETS; too be fair, it's actually priced aightly, four bucks for a pint of beer, 10-15 bucks for an entree. We just drink a lot. Sursly yummy Jack Daniels Steak Marinade and Honey Rye Beerz.

Savage's Ale House
I can't go to Muncie nowadays without checking up on my favorite bar. Fine by me.

A Real Rad Bloomington Trip With My Parents
A two-day trip with my parents and beloved relatives at Oliver Winery, an apple orchard, a drive through the park, Apples To Apples (I WON FOOL), free beer, rad time with my dear cousinpal Darrin, MOTHER BEAR'S, Upland Brewhouse. 'NOUGH SAID:)

The World's Most Dangerous Drug
I can't stop thinking about meth and this documentary didn't help. THANKS NETFLIX.

Season 3 of Parks And Recreation
I don't know when Netflix put this up, but AGAIN THANKS NETFLIX. Burned through it in like a week and I DON'T REGRET IT. I might put my "favorite funny tv shows that I've seen all the seasons of" list as 1) Arrested Development 2) Parks and Rec 3) Seinfeld and 4) The Office. DISCUSS?!

My Job As A First Grade Teacher's Aide
Two and a half months in and I'm like okay okay I could do this another year or two. It's like being the fun goofy uncle; I get to do fun things like PE and field trips and see the neat stuff like learning to read but when the major wacky happens, I just hand them back.

This Clumsy Living + The New Collagist + Bloomington + WUZZZZZ EMOTIONZ

I want to respond to This Clumsy Living by Bob Hicok, the last book I successfully read in my Spring Break challenge (OKAY I TOOK ME TWO DAYS). However, I'm not sparkling or gushing or HELLYEAHING to life in general. I'm saying: I'm not sure I could do my honest feelings to this book goodstuffjustice.

But before I forget, I wanna say a few quick okay things about the book. Several of these poems struck me as drier than normal Hicok or perhaps just clashing with my expectations and because of my mood/life right now, I couldn't deal with it. However, this book contains some real gems, like "In Michael Robin's Class Minus One" and "My New Neighbor." These poems (HEY HE READ THOSE ALOUD DID THAT INFLUENCE MY READING OF THEM?) strike with the looseness called humor shaken into deep emotions, wrapped up in imagination and language play that make me go YEAHYEAHICOK.

I think a better response would be this poem I wrote and edited once after seeing Hicok:

I expected Hicok as a floating head
perhaps trailed by a heart on a string
like a nice kite. I expected Hicok to shout
not the way my Uncles shout when someone
leans against their truck, their emotions
kicking out exhaust, spiraling out in exhaustion
from all the years of back up. No, I expected
the poet who helped teach me that you can be
funny and caring to be both funny and caring
in a room full of people who felt the same way.
Imagine my shock when he stepped to the podium
read a dozen poems, with hardly a comment,
with hardly a smile, with hardly a breath.
Instead one big sigh, instead forty minutes
of words bending like a mouth into its various
shapes. I scribbled in my notebook the questions
to ask in the Q&A, the stories to tell in the meet
and greet, but I came up with talking about myself,
how I yearn to study with him at his school. And he said
what you gonna do in your year off? I said, find a shitty job
that’ll make me want to get to you even faster. I said, Sorry
for being weird. He said, Don’t tell them that when you apply.
I felt my body sway side to side like a wave goodbye.
When I got into the car, I saw the book was signed
Good luck getting into a school. He was laughing,
he was smiling, he was feeling the whole time.

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The new issue of The Collagist is up. I'm so stoked to read that excerpt from Blake Butler's new novel when I get a little more free time. ANOTHER STELLAR ISSUE.

Speaking of The Collagist, I have a new interview with Christian Anton Gerard up at the blog.

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TYLER FIELDS AND I TORE DOWN BLOOMINGTON I HOPE YOU DONT LIVE THERE IT IS TORN DOWN

But really, I was stoked to show him my favorite spots, introduce him to some of my Bloomington pals, and just be cool together.

Spots:
Caveat Emptor Bookstore (Little Star by Mark Halliday (YEAH I KNOW RIGHT?) and The New Year of Yellow by Matthew Lippman)
Boxcar Books (THE WAILINGCOOL SINGER/BASSIST FROM GOOD LUCK WAS WORKING THERE WUZZZ; Elegy by Larry Levis and Fire to Fire by Mark Doty)
TD's (didn't have the Sleeping Bag cassette like I wanted, but cooldude Jared Cheek was working)
Landlocked Music (No Singles by Japandroids)
Dat's
That crappy church disc golf course
Laughing Planet
Soma

People:
Super host and awesome pal Darrin
CoolCara
Kailee and a wacky adventure to a mountain bike course
Zack and Naughty Dog (Bloomington's finest hot dogs)

It was a pleasure, relief, reboot, comfort.

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Right now, I feel like someone stole all my discs, burned my books, and made me sit in a tree ALONE.

Letters To A Young Poet + The Bonesetters + Bloomington

The main reason I am so drawn to poetry is the unique approach it takes to human communication and dealing with human interaction and feelings. WORDS ARE REAL. Letters are probably a more "obvious" means of communication, and when done with enthusiasm and sincerity, letters mesh emotions and communication in an overpowering way. This is exactly what drew me to reread Letters To A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke for yesterday's book. When someone receives a letter from an admirer of one's work and responds, it's a great gesture to be a part of. But when those two people exchange ten letters over the course of a few years, when in the early 20th century such an act was anything but easy, it's a major show in respect and commitment. Rilke's letters are gorgeous in their sincerity ("I'M TRYING FOR YOU MAN"), their humbleness ("I'M NOT SUPER BUT HERE ARE SOME THOUGHTS THANKS FOR ASKING"), and their insight ("I OBVIOUSLY THINK ABOUT THIS STUFF A BUNCH"). I'm interested in these forms of communication, maybe e-mail/texts/Facebook messages instead of traditional letters, because of the lasting impact and growth of self and others capable from this presentation words. While the situation is certainly different, I see no reason why modern means of interaction cannot be used as a legitimate (and QUICKER/MORE EFFICIENT) means of sharing one human life with another if both people make a similar commitment to the sharing, the connection, the effort of dealing with life together.

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Last night, I was lucky enough to be able to see my pals in The Bonesetters play at Be Here Now. They have a new drummer, are finishing up their first full-length album, and really impressed me last night. I've seen them so many times, but each time, I'm always drawn to boogie down, sing along (WHEN I CAN; OH CANT WAIT FOR THAT ALBUM), and proud to know these dudes. They played two new songs, one of which is a real gritty rock n' roll jam. I DIG THAT. Bassist Ryan Rader is a good pal of mine and one of the reasons I got into poetry/writing in the first place. I also go to hang with my friend Joe. It was a nice way to spend a Thursday night.

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Pal Tyler and I are heading to Bloomington in a little while to visit some of my friends and show him the town. Super stoked to see Darrin among others. Also, I'm glad to be able to show Tyler one of my favorite places on EARTH. Places for sure on the list: TD's Records, Landlocked Music, The Caveat Bookstore, Boxcar Books, and The Laughing Planet. I'll be back Saturday night. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOMINGTON

WHATEVER YOU CALL IT IT'S COOL

Day 4 — Your sibling (or closest relative):

Hey Darrin,

I bet you are thinking: I am not his sibling or closest relative. Looking at the chart of a family tree my Anthropology teacher gave me, you are my cousin once removed. As a child, I thought that meant some kind of weird cousin emancipation, but it just means you’re my mom’s cousin. Okay.

But in a way, I guess you are my closest relative, going on the definition of closest that means “emotionally close” and not “bloodline close.” I’m so stoked about what we’ve got going, this friendship thing. That’s what I call you now. I say, my friend Darrin in Bloomington. I hope that’s okay. Because, I feel like what you’ve taught me and do for me and the way we interact isn’t the humdrum boredom of cousinship, but of friendship.

As a human being in general, I like to think that I think more than ever, and much of that, it seems, would be because of you. Simply, you taught me to think about the choices I make. You taught me to take an interest in others, not in a you’re-my-friend-so-I’m-listening-kind-of-way, but in a you’ve-got-experience-and-life-and-culture-and-I’m-gonna-listen-kind-of-way.

I remember when Sara and I moved to Scheidler that sweet summer where we lived across the yard from each other. That was so much fun. You were all about the birds, with a hook thing and a bird feeder outside your window. Sara bought one and you wrote a sticky note on it that said, HEY BIRDS THIS FOOD IS POISONED THE GOOD FOOD IS OVER THERE→. Yeah, I’m still laughing about that.

I wish you were here sometimes, so we could ride bikes to get frozen yogurt or go to the farmer’s market. I wish I was there sometimes, so we could do culturally cool things and shoot pool. I know you’ve got a two year plan, but I do too.

Love,
Tyler

3 Cool Salamanders on a rock

1. Kim Chinquee is a cool cool writer. She edits Elimae, writes touching little stories, and answers questions at The Collagist blog (again).

2. Bye Indiana come Friday. Hello, RV. Hello, Open Road. Hello, Colorado and Utah. Hello, non-Indiana disc golf. Hello, Tattered Cover Book Store. Hello, family time. Hello, hot outdoors. Hello, reading time. I'm diving into some books (blog post to come?). See you mid-August real world.

3. NO AGE IN BLOOMINGTON WITH OSTEOFEROCIOUS 10 DAYS BEFORE MY BIRTHDAY!

Bookland

On Tuesday, Sara, Darrin, and I went to Boxcar Books. I've known about Boxcar for awhile, but this was my first visit. Woah. I was super stoked about the variety of zines, books, and mags/journals. I bought two cool things and held about a milllllion more.



I love riding my bike, but I suck with maintenance and general knowledge. I found this cool pamphlet called a rough guide to bicycle maintanence. It has cool things like how to change a flat and how to do a tune-up. I shouted "sold!" when I saw this sweet diagram of a bike, with lingo I can drop at my next bike party.



This is a nice journal (6x6) I bought on a whim. Never heard of it, but I was impressed with the layout (6x6!, rubber band bookmark, crisp pages) and title (I was ashamed of the poems, and still I'm ashamed, which comes from the first poem). After reading it, I'm impressed by the majority of the poems (especially the sections by lucy ives and kevin varrone).

Very Good Finds On A Very Good Trip!