The Ugly Duckling Presse makes beautiful, intelligently designed books and chapbooks of poetry. I was lucky enough to pick up a copy of their periodical "6x6 #11: The line about the ants isn't mine," at an event this weekend (they were nice enough to give it away...the book). I hadn't heard of many of the poets -- Christina Clark, C.S. Carrier, Aaron James McNally, Friedrich Kerksieck, Sue Carnahan, James Wagner, and Rick Snyder -- but I'm glad I've heard of them now. And their prices are as fair as they come. Go UDP!
On a completely unrelated note, last night our neighbours (who we have never met) asked if we would film them for a "reality tv" show they were in the running for. One of many stipulations required that the camera run straight through, no edits, so we recorded until the batteries ran out. Riveting stuff, as you might expect (though, they were very nice and they'll most likely be the most famous people ever in the near future). This all got me to thinking how silly we are when the world is first put before us, when the idea of taking a wild chance holds actual promise, when we think we're cute and we don't wear underwear -- I never completed this line of thought. Instead I started thinking about college and professors, and if we actually learned anything, which got me to reading the alumni review that so happened to arrive this weekend. In it, I found an article about Professor Steven Yao. He taught my senior seminar on Ezra Pound and Modernism and today I'm feeling especially appreciative. If you have the occasional scholarly fancy, why not read his book Translation and the Languages of Modernism: Gender, Politics, Language.
Thank you for your patience.