Thursday, February 10, 2011

Underlining, I Was Cringing

Do you write in your books? I underline and write in the margins. When I was in college and grad school and grad school, I took most of my lecture notes in the very books we were talking about! Lately, however, (did you know you're really NOT supposed to begin a sentence with however?) I have begun feeling badly about writing in my books. I used to think that writing in my books would be like a kind of legacy. I don't really have much besides books and books are all I care about really, besides knitting. So to read a book that I've read is to know a little about me, what I underlined and bracketed or checked. (I don't know the difference between those things, but that seems to be my system).

Does this mean I'm growing up? I started thinking about this when the old man and I started a book club with several of our friends. We have to share the same book or buy it twice, which doesn't make much sense. The first book we read, William Carlos Williams's (the Carlos saves the day here) Spring and All and the old man wrote all up in it. I couldn't wade through his notes, which really read like a bunch of jibber jabber. Then I couldn't tell if I was reading Spring and All for the old man's notes. Let us say the old man writes like four people were simultaneously holding one pen and trying to write one thing together while on a train.

I asked him not to take so many notes in our book club books and he now writes in a little journal, which I think is pretty cute. The benefit of writing in my books is that I know directly what to steal without having to waste the time of having to re-read and search an entire book for the quotation I wanted. How else would I know when the butt sex begins in A Sport and A Past Time if it were not for that big-ass star marking the page? Hmm? And what about all the things I need to re-pay-attention to when I reread my books? Also, when I write essay, I practically write the essay in the book.

I do not write in handmade books and chapbooks.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011


Look at me. I'm a business woman now. I'm going to have a business card. A letter-pressed business card that the old man is making. Please do not worry about my soul. My soul is intact. In fact the old man and I are going on a Yoga retreat in Costa Rica. We are wholesome. We are starting a business together because we love each other. We will be selling poetry. It is kind of an anti-capitalistic act because no one could ever pay what poetry is worth. No one could ever pay what a hand-bound and or letter-press book is worth. I'm sticking it to the man. We are sticking it to the man with our bookstore, Berl's Brooklyn Poetry Shop. If you make books, you should let us sell them. We have created all kinds of fantastic ways to display poetry books. The old man's dad made beautiful curved wooden structures for us to display poetry books. Berl's will rule, but it will not rule the world.