Mar. 25th, 2008 08:15 am
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  • Today, 2 pm, the State House in Boston. Hearing on the anti size-discrimination bill 1844. Room A2. Three minutes to speak. Much to witness.

  • I'm not going to be lyrical.

  • I've been kindly offered a ride by a nice person who says she's inexperienced and nervous about driving in the city. We're trying to park right on the Common! Will we make it out of there before dark? Boston's long history shows up in its labyrinthian one way streets and lack of helpful signage indicating the way to I-90. I've been stressfully lost on the streets of Boston like nowhere else. Here we go.

  • Evidently, there's a luncheon. I hadn't heard.

  • I was having a fantasy of going to look for the reading room in the Boston Public Library in Copley Square, which I didn't know existed when I was young and washing my hands in its grand marble bathrooms during my fire escape painting days. But there's a luncheon.

  • My laptop crashed.

  • A deadline's near and the work's not done.

  • My printer broke. I rode the eleven or twelve miles roundtrip to Hadley yesterday to get a new one. Uncleared ice on the bike path! Vigor, sunshine, low hills.

  • I'm a little frazzled. And novel haunted.

  • It's good to have a strategic moment to say: Discrimination based on height and weight is wrong. It's good to act to try to help stop it.

Belly Song

Apr. 14th, 2007 08:25 am
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As I walked in Boston last weekend, I kept having waves of feeling about the fact that when I moved there twenty-four years ago (I was only twenty-three at the time), what I wanted with ferocious intensity was to be a serious writer. Remembering the desire of that much younger self, it moves me that being a novelist is, in fact, what I do and who I am.

In honor of both the fact and the feeling, here's "Belly Song," from my book Belly Songs (which I published with Sally Bellerose and Janet Aalfs -- we did their books, too -- and which is now selling used for $45 on I've got boxes full, but am not really set up to sell them.) I wrote it in Boston, and it describes working on the fire escape that I went looking for last weekend. Writing it was also an important moment in the ongoing process of coming to love and truly be in my body. There is some explicit content.

I sit naked on a chair with my legs slightly apart. I hold my bones very straight. My belly pours, hangs, moves, grows hair, shines in marks that fall like fingers curving up around its sides.  )


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May 2009



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