Category: Opinions

A sad state of affairs

I can’t say I’m entirely surprised by the news from this article. It’s a fact that reading actual books in the US is on the decline, and has been for a long time.

As a writer, struggling, hoping, dreaming of being published, of course, this is sad news to me. For every resounding success like the recent Harry Potter series, there are plenty like me, lying like rubble in the street, lost to the big machine that is today’s publishing industry.

My most recent and most disheartening rejection to date came last year. I wrote a book I’m really proud of, edited the hell out of it, made it right and submitted it to a well known local agent. To my utter joy, the agent asked for a copy of the entire manuscript. This was really something heady! The farthest I’d ever gotten with an agent! Only to be told that despite the fact that she loved the characters and enjoyed the story, she didn’t think there was a wide enough audience for my book.

*sigh*

I know that agents have to do this, right? They have to find something that one of the big conglomerates will love enough to put some dollars behind. Something that will have a mass appeal, and will sell. Preferably something written by an author who already has proven success. A simple fictional baseball book isn’t going to get ‘er done. (so I turned to the rocky road of self-publishing)

And why? Because people aren’t reading like they used to. I was taught how to read by my grandmother, an amazing woman by all accounts. A feminist before her time, and a teacher in heart, mind and by career. I was young, maybe three or four and she taught me to read, and I’ve not stopped my love of words and books since. And because I love books so much, it saddens me to read the article I mentioned above.

“One in four adults say they read no books at all in the past year, according to an Associated Press-Ipsos poll released Tuesday”

Ugh. None? No? Zero? It makes my eyes water a bit, like the sting of a strong, cold, bitter wind smacking me upside the face. Awakening, sharply to the reality that my chosen path of creativity, the way The Muse flows through me isn’t necessarily the most popularly consumed art form.

Nobody ever said being an artist was going to be easy. It’s the old saying, well-trod but apropos at this moment, a chiding reminder from my incredibly multi-talented cousin, “you don’t write because you want to, you write because you have to”.

I take solace in the fact that my goddaughter, all of seven, reads voraciously (and at a level much higher than her years). Her mother, a good English teacher, made sure both she and her sister learned to love books.

So there’s hope yet. Maybe for every kid who grows up not reading books there are a few like my precious girl who read plenty. And maybe Nina Karen can one day find a “real” publisher to take a chance on me.

Until then, I’ll write because I have to. Because it compels me. Because it’s who I am.

That’s it, it’s official

Fall is pretty much here. I have proof.

Captioned: “David Garcia, 16, of Hatch roasts freshly picked chile Wednesday at his father’s roadside stand in Hatch, the self-proclaimed chile capital of the world. (Sun-News photo by Norm Dettlaff)”

If the smell of roasting chile is in the air, it’s Fall. I just have to accept it.

Found in the Las Cruces Sun News.

Continuation of a theme

Get ready, the lament that started here continues.

Friday night, was sitting on the red couch, as usual. I was huddled up reading the last and latest installment of Harry Potter (yes, I am perhaps the LAST person on earth to finally get around to reading this exhausting bit of work) when I realized….my bare feet were cold. Being a girl from the desert, shoes fly off my feet at the earliest convenience so barefooted is the norm. And barefooted in the summer is a truly grand treasure for me. My feet, browned by the sun, flip flop tan lines can attest.

But as I sat there, the sun warming the horizon to the west, but my feet were cold. And my bare legs. And suddenly I was seeking out a blanket.

A blanket! In August!

This is not fair. This is still summer! Summer I tell you! It cannot be over! Fall cannot be pushing at the edges! I command the leaves not to change! I demand the sun stay high in the sky until almost 9:00 at night! I require shorts and no shoes!

My beautiful partner keeps reminding me, that old Bay Area lament, “you know the weather here is always the best in October”. Yes, tis true….but I can only enjoy the nice days until, oh, about 6:00 or so because the SUN SETS TOO DANG EARLY in October. It’s not the same. I am a child of summer. I crave the sun. Fall brings darkness, dankness and wet. Soon the rains will come, bringing bone chilling damp cold.

We already started discussing which family we’ll spend the holidays with. The **holidays**!! IN AUGUST!!

It is to weep.

And then, just as I’m lamenting along, trying to cheer myself up I read Petroglyph Paradox today and my friend Natalie tells me that football is on the telly…already. Football!

I can’t take it.

I’m going to may hay while the sun (literally) shines. I’m taking my new bike for a spin….and I’ll hold my legs straight out like a kid and I’ll sweat profusely because today, August 19, 2007 is STILL SUMMER!

Sweating his way to the White House

It’s undignified, really, but in an ironic way it’s appropriate.

The Governor of New Mexico quote “…sweated his way through two sets of shirts…” while stumping at the Iowa State Fair.

I get it, really I do. Visiting the Iowa State Fair is a tradition. It’s the first state out of the gate, and important, and being at the fair is expected. In that, he did what he should.

Poor brotha man was representing our fair state while enduring a heat index of 106°.

Gross.

But did Obama sweat? Did Hillary have to change blouses? Oy Billy!! Get some Right Guard and get it together!

We all know how well being a sweaty bastard worked for Nixon……..

(PS I just love the rasquache quality of the ABQjournal making a whole article out if the man’s rampant perspiration. Hard hitting journalism…..)

When having to be a grown up blows….

I had such a great weekend. I really did. I was in NM last weekend, so Saturday was about running errands, taking a nap and reconnecting with that cute boy I share a home with. Sunday we loaded up and headed for the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

I love having artsy days. I don’t do them enough, honestly, and I always come out inspired.

I grew up in a sort of small town as the child of VERY small minded and small town parents. Albuquerque in the 70’s wasn’t exactly brimming with wide ranging cultural opportunities. It’s improved, some, but even today it’s tough. So I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that growing up, I never went to an art museum.

The first art museum I ever went to was the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. I was 29. Sad huh?

I still remember it vividly. They were having a Monet and Manet exhibit, juxtaposing the two artists who painted in the same era. I was literally *blown away* to stand in front of an actual Monet painting. I mean, it blew the hayseeds right out of my New Mexico girl hair…..

After the Monet exhibit, I went to the next floor. There held an exhibit of Matisse works. It was mostly his torn and cut paper work, and while I was not all that crazy about his torn paper years, I did see some amazing stuff. And again, I was *blown away* that I was standing in front of Matisse’s original work, including the well known “Jazz”. The actual original piece of art.

I was also turned on to some of his paintings. Back then I’d never even known he did anything OTHER than the torn paper work (little did I know torn and cut paper was late in his life).

It was truly a profound experience.

My next profound art excursion was last year at the New York Museum of Modern Art. Did you know that Van Gogh’s “Starry Starry Night” lives there (or at least it did in the summer of 2006)? I didn’t. That painting has meaning for me. An English teacher changed my life by teaching a poetry segment using lyrics from songs. She taught Don McLean’s “Vincent” and she talked about the artist and showed slides of the painting. That was seventh grade and I can still remember in vivid detail her lecture and what I learned (I can remember little from my childhood, but I remember this). I’ve always considered that painting to be inspirational and I’m a fan of Van Gogh.

So I laid eyes on the actual painting….and I burst into tears. I was so moved, it meant everything to me. Despite spending a few more days in Manhattan, I could have gone home that day. I was spent.

My next art museum trip was to San Francisco’s de Young Museum for the “Chicano Visions: American Painters on the Verge”. It was a moving experience, showing art from Cheech Marin’s private collection, folklore items, and work by Chicano artists. Again, I was blown away to see the original “La Pistola y El Corazon” by George Yepes. Well, the second original, the first was owned by Sean Penn and it burned in a house fire. George painted another one with subtle differences, but no less powerful. I sat on the floor in front of the some eight foot tall canvas and gaped at that painting, blown away by the style and the power of it. Moved to silence.

(noticing a trend here? Going to art museums is usually a deep emotional experience)

So going to the MoMa in San Francisco on Sunday was a big day for me. My reaction on this tour of an art museum was much different from the previous two. The first two times, I fell in love. This time, I sort of got mad.

Mad, you ask? Yes. Mad. Or well, maybe not mad as much as disgruntled.

I am not a fan of abstract art. There I said it, shoot slings at arrows at me now…..

I don’t enjoy the canvas painted blue. Just blue, that’s it. I’m also no fan of Jackson Pollock. I know, heresy. And there was a lot of abstract art during this visit. Some I liked, some just made me hostile. All evoked a response, and that’s the idea, right?

But all was not lost. Also on this trip I got to see two real live Diego Rivera paintings! That was pretty cool. And also a real live Frida Kahlo painting.

And the main reason we went to MoMa was to see the display of Matisse sculptures. Ah yes, Matisse again! It was fascinating to watch him progress with his style and getting the human form right, then deconstructing it. Amazing! Made me want to pick up some clay and get to work!

And finally, I was wowed by the “Hidden Picasso” exhibit. First, I was that close to a Picasso! (you know the drill…*blown away*). And then the mysteries behind the painting hidden behind Picasso’s “Rue de Montmartre” and discovered using pretty cool technology.

Fascinating!

So, all filled with the arts and feeling artistic and flying on a cloud of joy……Sunday ended.

And today, I had to come back to work. To get yelled at. And complained about. And feeling decidedly UN-creative.

Being a grown up sucks.