Actually, I cut my hand in a knife fight.

Today I'm drinking french press coffee, a fancy treat, because I broke the coffee pot carafe thing while doing the dishes yesterday. I very carefully took all the pieces out of the sink with my dishwashing gloved hands. I placed those piece in the garbage in a brown paper bag in the garbage. Then I finished the dishes, dancing to Sublime and went grocery shopping.

I transferred the rice I bought to a glass container and then put the old rice bag in the garbage, pushing down the garbage underneath it.

That's when I cut my hand on the stupid coffee pot. 2 stitches, an x-ray and a tetanus shot later, I'm good as new (well in 10 days).

I wore my new wishbone necklace my mother bought me and I'm wondering if it actually did protect me, at least a little. Apparently while the inner hand is sensitive, it has a small layer of fat that cushions the important stuff (ligaments, muscle, nerves, etc); if I were to have cut the outside hand the doctor said I would have cut a ligamen.

And to continue my last post, the best part of the translation conference was learning about writing traditions from other cultures. As I push through my MFA I'm realizing how white and American/British all the authors I've been to exposed to are. I just finished a book by Etgar Keret, an Israeli short story writer who takes off in a Kafka-esque vein. I love his book "The Nimrod Flipout."

In the translation conference, we learned about two types of literary traditions: Ghazal and Zuihitsu. In his workshop, Roger Sedarat highlighted the ghazal, a classical style of poetry writing from south east asia. From what I understand, it is comprised of couplets that should both stand on their own and contribute to the greater poem. There can be no enjambement between lines and the last word of the the second line of the couplet must be the same. There is a similiar rhyme before each repeated word. Lastly, the last couplet evokes the narrator's (or someone's) name. We each made a couplet and combined these as a group, without seeing the other couplets first. Our repeated word is "farewell" and our ryhme is "said" (notice we ignored the enjambement rule):


I cannot count the desperate bodies that scream through decay, farewell.
To the hospitals and churches containing hopefuls that pray, farewell.

You alone are a blessed annoyance
although I would love to see you, okay farewell.

"Doctor, make sure you put that down on my chart
Down to less than a pack a day--farewell."

A cup of coffee is on the table.
To the cup I say, "Okay, farewell."

All her icy severing words came to me
A cold frost in my spring--a May farewell.

It's been said "no one can shave your head in your absence."
So, John Weir, keeps those raving barbers at bay. Farewell.



Zuihitsu next post.