Author: Nada Gordon

And by the way, don’t you want this inkblot umbrella? Inkblots — apparently a new trend in textile design: BRILLIANT.

I’m reading Stefan Kanfer’s wonderful Stardust Lost: The Triumph, Tragedy, and Mishugas of the Yiddish Theater in America. From page 104: “In 1910, some wag labeled New York City the nation’s thyroid gland. It was both a put-down and a compliment.” In a non-localized, online world, is this still the case?

Why is my thyroid behaving like the stock market in 2000? Maybe it’s genetic. My grandmother had hypothyroidism so severe that she had to be hospitalized. Her thyroid just stopped working completely. Or… does stress affect thyroid function, spiralling it ever lower? Wondering.

Such a tiny little butterfly of a gland!

Hoping the new dose will bring on new poems, more home couture, and so on. At the moment I haven’t the urge to be or do anything more than a coiled shrimp. Except maybe that I want to cry, and I don’t think shrimp weep much. Or do they? Perhaps it’s not given for us to know.

Thyroid low again! Anemic too! No wonder I haven’t blogged for like a month.

Awaiting new dosage.

O do read the interview with Alan Davies on Tom Beckett’s blog as soon as you can!

Why is open mike spelled “mic”? I hate that. Sounds like an Irishman after a week at Esalen.

Today there was a lunchtime presentation at Pratt on the topic of close reading. It was a mostly interesting discussion, except that one of the presenters mentioned she had students reading sonnets by John Berryman (OK, whatever) and… er…Kim Addonizio… and that she also gives students several poets’ close readings of Lowell’s “Skunk Hour,” as well as the poem itself. Why is this *crap* still being used as models of poetry for impressionable young minds? She also brought in a handout of poems she uses for close readings including some Russel Edson, some Plath, “Red Wheelbarrow” and “In a Station of the Metro”. Has no one yet figured out that these are both execrable poems, whose inflated historical importance may be their only virtue? oh GAWD. I want to SMASH THE BORING FUCKING CANON ALREADY. I can almost see myself in Doc Martens kicking everything and slamming at POETRY with a baseball bat. If you can’t teach people to read everything poetically, which would, I feel, be an exhilarating goal, at least give them some poetry to read that won’t make them think poetry is this awful monotonous whiny self-important thing. “Skunk Hour” — aaaaagh! SAVE ME!!!!!

I don’t want to sound melodramatic, but I feel like I’m drowning in fatigue.

Avoid any mention of poetry altogether.

Do not use standard templates unless you tweak them.

Use as many fonts as you please.

There is no such thing as irrelevant content: found text, recipes, videos, random observations – all good.

It doesn’t matter if you have links or not.

Especially, do not ever ever “engage current debate.”

Welcome comments, but delete as you see fit.

Use gimmicks: a flickr badge and a label cloud are signs of a “quality blog.”

Don’t set yourself up as an authority on anything.

Let people secretly guest-blog as you.

Blog as frequently or as infrequently as you please: you owe no one anything.

You may use your blog as a catalogue of pet peeves if you like.

Possibly to be continued…

Nicholas Manning reviews Folly like there’s no tomorrow.