My laptop's hard drive fried... again. I had recently backed up, so I wasn't too devastated, but I'm missing a few things that I just can't let myself dwell on... or it'll make me scream, especially since summer hours are slipping into the past. I don't know if I can rewrite those pieces at this point.
I was sans this appendage for two whole days. I had phantom limb syndrome.
It's like when the electricity goes out, but each time you walk into a room, you switch on the light. I tried to write on the desktop, but I couldn't. I needed my particular spaces and nooks.

Anyway...
I miss fiction this summer. I've been reading so many expository texts. I just found this clip from one of my favorite authors:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzD0YtbViCs&feature=related

Stand on the top of a cliff, and jump off, and build your wings on the way down. 

Love what you do, and do what you love.     -Ray Bradbury

Our SAWPsi members had a phone conversation with Peter Elbow today! He discussed his latest work Vernacular Eloquence, reminding us that talking is writing. He emphasized that we have to read aloud our writing, that sharing our pieces is one of the most important parts. We have to hear it, fiddle with the words in our mouths a little. It was thrilling to talk to him.
I started to think of some ideas about a professional piece on evaluating writing. I've been working on this a little so far this summer. I interviewed a few teachers in SAWP about rubrics and checklists. Elbow still uses contracts. He stated that "student grading is the most challenging and causes the most problems in teaching." Amen.
We're sending him a copy of our anthology. Peter Elbow may read one of my pieces!

Now, I'm baking my Peter Elbow macaroni Kugel for our literary-themed dishes for tomorrow's Visitors' Day. Get it? Elbow macaroni!!

Parting is such sweet sorrow. I can't believe tomorrow's the last day.

Oil Seeps Into Lake Pontchartrain

Tar Balls Washed Ashore in Texas

"This isn't going away. This isn't a sneeze or a hiccup. This is diarrhea for a long time..."

-Jerry Biggs, a commercial fisherman in Pass Christian, Mississippi

Umbrella

There are people out there who

will….um….Who offer you their umbrellas  And some of those

people hold the umbrella more over you than over themselves   You try

to stand close Closer  And then  you realize they’re drenched Entirely  And only

your legs and feet are wet  Those people who offer you a ride And when you get in their car  They have to move the books, papers,  Ziploc bag of crumbs Off of the seat, Throw it  in the back to deal with later  “My car’s a mess!” The radio station is set to NPR  They get situated  They smooth down soaking wet hair In the rearview mirror  The hair that that they wore down despite the humidity  Long, brown, wavy hair These people who make sweet small talk As they slowly  drive you  to your car in the  downpour...

You

Observe

 them

peripherally

As best

you can

Soaked,

drenched

Because

they

held

 the

umbrella

over you

soaked

drenched

kindred

Those who

                                 feel                         that the

                        umbrella                           should

                              be  over                      you

                                          more  than over

                                           themselves.