What is the difference between a hero and a nut? I'm thinking of Robert Downey, Jr. in Iron Man: he's brilliant and stupid at the same time, and knows it, and everyone else in the movie is sensible enough to leave him alone and just let him be that. But what is the line between not a nut and a nut? It might be the same as the line between the person who rushes into the road to save the cat and the person who holds back.

I watched a cat get run over from my kitchen window; by the time I got out there, it was twitching, blood doing bloody things, life ebbing out. All on a lovely autumn afternoon. And noone around her has claimed the cat as their own, perhaps because you don't own a dead cat; noone owns a dead cat, and yet here we all are, owning our dead mothers, our fathers, in the sense that we remain connected, attached, for all it's worth; we pin their memory onto our lapels; we wear their hats in the parade.

No Meatloaf Today

By Jana Martin/MOLI
written 8/29/07 for my daily design column which is now defunct on moli.com, which is now ... different.

An accident prevents the Boiceville Design Committee from meeting
Every Thursday there's a meatloaf sandwich special at the diner. Yesterday being Thursday, there was supposed to be meatloaf, and therefore the newly formed unofficial Boiceville Design Committee (which formed last week) was going to get together and discuss important issues in design. Today the subject was going to be sustainable design.

First a little background on the committee members:

Hal: Head builder. Most of his work is on second homes for people from the city. He's now learning more about sustainable design because that's what people want. In his most recent job he was supposed to install a windmill but the buildings department couldn't figure out the permits. The clients want him to install it anyway.

Sal: Works for his Dad. Sal has an engineering degree. He tried to point out that windmills cost way more than they'll produce for a weekend house. The clients scoffed and called him insensitive to the Earth.

Kassie: The waitress and (turns out) the meatloaf maker. She lives with a teacup chihuahua and her husband, a stonemason, who's the size of a house.

Then I got a phone call.

Kassie: Hey this is Kassie from the diner.

MOLI: Cooking meatloaf yet?

Kassie: No meatloaf today. We had a catastrophe.

MOLI: Oh no.


Kassie This big guy came in last night and sat down and broke a chair.



MOLI: And so no meatloaf?

Kassie: So he moved to the chair on the other side of the table and broke that one too.

MOLI: He was that big?

Kassie: You wouldn't have thought it looking at him, but he had a few tons of extra. Something about the way he sat down. But on the second fall he also broke the bone at the top of his ass. The whats-it.

MOLI: The coccyx?

Kassie: That.

MOLI: So no meatloaf.

Kassie: I had to drive the guy to the ER. My husband was pissed.

MOLI: Because he couldn't drive?

Kassie: My husband? No. He can drive like a bear can shit. He can drive with his eyes closed and his hands in his pants, and you can tell him I said that.

MOLI: Wait. You're mad at him?

Kassie: He's acting like a big baby.

MOLI: You mean the chair victim.

Kassie: No. My husband. I'd be in bad shape too if I broke my ass. Maybe I should. Get some time off. I can sit on a donut pillow and get waited on hand and foot. Imagine.

MOLI: So the chair victim's doing okay.

Kassie: He's not the one that has to fix the chairs. An order's up. Call me back.

I called back. What Kassie says, I do.

Kassie: (answers by rote) Sorry, no meatloaf today.
MOLI: Kassie, no, it's me.

Kassie: People are very upset about this lack of meatloaf thing. Hal and Sal are going for pizza today instead. So no meeting. No one seems to care about that poor guy who broke his ass. I hope he's not a shoe salesman, where they have to sit on those sloping stools.

MOLI: Can I just ask you something?

Kassie: I've heard that before.

MOLI: Your husband was pissed because he has to fix the chairs, but not because you had to take the guy to the ER, and not because you couldn't make the meatloaf?

Kassie: You just got that? Boy are people dense. Or maybe I need to lower my medication. Or raise it.

MOLI: Sorry. It was a just a little unclear.

Kassie: It goes like this: My husband is really good at fixing things, but he hates to do it. He especially hates fixing chairs. He himself has never broken a chair in his life despite being as big as a brontosaurus. So he lacks sympathy.

MOLI: You can't just throw out the broken chairs?

Kassie: Well thanks to who knows what or who, or maybe the whole global-warming thing, we are now on a green kick over here. What is that word? Sustainable? We are switching to unbleached kitchen cloths, which turn dishwater gray the minute you use them. Very appetizing for a customer to watch. And there was a suggestion that I wipe down the counters with vinegar. I said why don't I just knock over a bottle of salad dressing instead.

MOLI: Isn't it pure white vinegar you use?

Kassie: I know all about that. My grandma used it on everything. Smelled like hell. Some changes are for the better. This sustainable diner thing is going to last about a minute. It is not sustainable, in other words.

MOLI: Can't you just do more recycling?

Kassie: I know who I'd like to recycle. The conversation went like this. Boss: 'Darn. Can you get your husband over to fix those?' Me: 'He can try. Or we could just replace them.' Boss: 'We can't just keep wasting our resources. Do we throw out a guy when his ass breaks?'

MOLI: You may want to look into that medication change after all.

Kassie: Today's special is toast.

Next week, when the meatloaf resumes, the committee will be discussing the design of chairs.

Minutes of the Unofficial Boiceville Design Committee

By Jana Martin/MOLI
written 08/17/2007

The local diner considers the "product of the day"
Thursday there's a meatloaf sandwich special at the diner. So I brought in some pictures of Dwell's products of the day and asked father and son builders Hal and Sal what they thought. Kassie the waitress went on break and threw in her 2 cents. Herewith, the minutes.

But first a little background on the committee members:

Hal: Head builder. Most of his work is on second homes for people from the city. He's now learning more about sustainable design because that's what people want. In his most recent job he was supposed to install a windmill but the buildings department couldn't figure out the permits. The clients want him to install it anyway.

Sal: Works for his dad. Sal has an engineering degree. He tried to point out that windmills cost way more than they'll produce for a weekend house. The clients scoffed and called him insensitive to the Earth.

Kassie: The waitress on break. She lives with a teacup chihuahua and her husband, a stonemason, who's the size of a house.

MOLI: Thanks for sitting down with me. So I'm going to show you these three products, and all I want is for you to tell me what you think.

Hal: Don't worry about that.

MOLI: These were highlighted by Dwell magazine as examples of great products. They break new ground or improve on an existing idea, or are products that use sustainable processes and materials. Dwell focuses on design and architecture and construction. Any thoughts on that?
Kassie: In terms of construction nothing's more sustainable than stone. That's what my husband says. Or so he hopes it sustains us anyway.
Hal: It's not that we don't understand global warming. It's that we have to make a living.

Sal: Anyway.

First object: Trendy Pet dog bowl.

Hal (turning the photo to get a better look): You said it was a dog bowl?

Kassie: She means dog bowl feeder.

Sal: Looks like the seat of a porta potty.

Hal: My wife would never let that in the kitchen.
Kassie: It's so cold looking.

Hal: My wife is the type to get this. She babies our dog like it's a —


Sal: Baby.
Hal: But she likes warm colors. She'd want something in a natural tone.

Sal: Remember what happened when we tried to buy her a black refrigerator.

Hal: It was on special.

Sal: Some special.

Kassie: And they say this is good design because?

MOLI: You can measure your dog and then order the custom size feeder. It's ergonomic. And it supposedly looks better than other feeders.

Kassie: I doubt they have one for my dog. Her legs are three inches long. She eats on the table. She barks between bites if you go near her.

Hal: What magazine did you say this was in?

MOLI: Dwell.

Hal: As in, In these woods ever shall I dwell?

MOLI: Who said that?

Sal: No one. He just made it up. He gets like that when he has to build for city people.

Hal: That's who would buy this thing. And then make me redo the counters and floors to match.

Kassie: So you think this is for city dogs.

Sal: For city people. You think the dogs care what they eat out of?

Second object: Axiomaudio Waterproof Outdoor Speakers.

Sal: These are cool. They're good-looking but not obnoxious. Great paint job. Are the wires waterproof too?

Hal: Who wants to hear music coming out of speakers outside? If my neighbors got these I'd call the cops.

Kassie: I could see a use for them, but only if you have a lot of land. Certainly not in a city. Someone's liable to shoot at them.

Sal: I can see them at a pool party. They look coated with something.

MOLI: They're painted with car paint and have a UV inhibitor coating and angled ports. They're specifically engineered to deal with the elements.

Hal: Elements? As in wind and rain? Meaning weather? This is mountain out molehill talk. Which is what I think about all of this.

Sal: I like them. They're for younger guys.

Kassie: Obviously for the younger guy who has everything.

Sal: It might be good for a pool party. But everyone would be paranoid they'd ruin your new speakers. You'd have to go around saying, "Hey it's okay, they're waterproof."
Hal: You mean element proof.

Third object: Earth Stool by Vivaterra.
Hal: Now what the heck is this?
MOLI: This is a stool made from the root balls of discarded Chinese fir trees.

Hal: Root balls? That's a fancy way to say stump. They're importing stumps form China now.

Kassie: It looks like it weighs a ton. It doesn't look comfortable.

Hal: So someone got the typical idea to take a bunch of stumps and make furniture. And Dwell magazine thinks this is new?

Sal: Didn't that guy Ingraham make stump furniture?

Hal: His were from oak and ash. Hardwood. And he varnished them to keep them from drying up and getting cracks. Is this varnished?

MOLI: I think varnish isn't eco-sensitive. Maybe they oil it.

Hal: Do they spray them first? Lot of wood-boring insects in China. That's how we got those wasps killing the pines now.

Kassie: And how much does this polished Chinese stump run?

MOLI: About 170.

Kassie: That's genius. I want a job like that.

MOLI: But do you think it looks good?

Kassie: if you're going for that crazy hermit look. Maybe someone who didn't grow up with chainsaws would find it cute in a rural kind of way.

Hal: I look at it, I see termites crawling out of it in all directions and heading for the house I just finished.
Sal: You know, I've been looking at it for a while and I finally figured out what it reminds me of.
Kassie: What?
Sal: Actually it's already called that.
Kassie: Just tell me. Really. What?
Hal: You know what.

Sal: At least it's biodegradable.
Kassie: Guess that's a plus.

Sex and debt: Entwistle, forlorn in debt and trolling for sex on the internet. Did he really shoot his wife and daughter as they slept, in Woburn, Mass? How many people from another place, lost in the mess of trying to make it in 21st-century America? thinking of it.

thinking of long lost fathers, looking for them, of what the father is like in the book, because there is always a father, a dark or light force, there to answer the daughter's phone call.

she learns to drive everywhere in any weather in any car at any time whether there is even a moon in the sky.

she learns to tell the way the wind blows from the hole in her ear.

she had that altercation with the ex -- really, it was an accident -- but it wasn't.

The distortion of mood upon the same as it ever was
no matter the small mercies of mornings or afternoons
and despite or because of constant memory

Back from the Trenches

My friends at the writing group Who Wants Cake are winning over the world with their good writing group mantras. If you need to be in a writing group, it should be named after dessert. It should include them. They are all goodhearted, smart, hard working. It's terrible to be in a writing group that pegs you for some upstart arro-girl, or is full of fierce wannabes. you want something in the middle. you want people who let their stories be freaks but are themselves decent as they come. decent as dogs.

most dogs.


But if we ever needed a reason to feel proud to not be American as this -- a Fox news reporters gets her yah yahs off by shooting a machine gun off the roof of a bus. It's all just pretend, right.

Ne'er Do Evers Doing Well


Chris Buckridge has a great band. He was starting it when I lived in Carroll Gardens, a hipster obsessive with a sweet streak from Ohio. Brooklyn, of course, that area of Brooklyn, back then, was full of that. It was in full play at the Fall Cafe, where Chris held court while making coffee and peanut butter on tosts. The Fall was where so many of us wrote and didn't write and talked and didn't talk, and there was a strangely greasy feel to everything, but a marvelous scruffy sense of happiness. People could sit there for hours. I sometimes did.

Minnewaska Fire

We could smell it coming over the mountains in High Falls, that dreadful dry and crispy smell, a few thousand acres of wildlands burning in the heat, 30 fire companies trying to contain it. Nothing like this in 50 years. Not since the Minnewaska hotel itself burned, which I remember. It had already closed. My mother bought plates at the closing sale. I have them now, with a little green sketch of one of the rustic little bench houses they'd built all along the lake, up on the Shawungunk rock. There was always a smell there, of pine needles in the heat, of very clear mountain air. I went there often. I don't remember it ever raining. Then it was gone, as they say.

Of course there was a lot more to it than that. Arson was suspected. There was a bitter story with a bitter, charring ending. The land endured, the giant clapboard hotel didn't, the stories, of course, did.

Iconographies of a Personal Disaster




front porch

red roof

irises

blue bathrobe

white bare feet

rickety old table

rain-flooded stream

Flickering cowboy

Quickmuse shows how thinking can happen in poems. How it gets shortcutted into a footbridge over the chasm. How editing is circuitry. It plays back the poem as written at the time. Richard Siken, already my favorite poet, does it in Unhappy Hour. Look for how he gets from pumpkins to flickering cowboy.

Stop Go Stop Go

Working on a new book has its disadvantages. It tends to take advantage of my guilt. Any moment I am standing still a thought comes into my head and if I do not add it to the accumulating pile of information that lives in the new book landfill then it is gone, gone forever.

This morning, I remembered one:

She was sure she had been an Indian in a past life. She didn't feel like explaining it, she told him. But when she was in the woods she just had that feeling.

She imagined telling that to her grandmother, who would just shake her beehive and ask if she wanted more rotisserie chicken. Those giant poultry shears looked like they could cut through a finger. She couldn't get that out of her mind. She shook her head.

What? he said. He thought she was paying attention to him paying attention.

No, she said. I was just remembering something.

From this life, or the one before? he said. Or the one before that? At some point maybe you were, like, a teletype machine. Click click click.

A what? she said. My grandmother had these poultry shears.