Archive for January, 2011

January 21, 2011

AND NOW a word from K, my wife, on what it’s like to support/live with a writer

by jhon baker

This post in in response to the ‘significant other blogfest’ The theme of which is “what it is like to support/live with a writer’.
Written by K., My wife, partner, lover, ardent supporter and needed critic —
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In true Jhon fashion, he signed me up for this without actually asking my permission.  It’s always so grand to put someone ‘on the spot’ that hates being anywhere near the center of attention.  Well – in the “public center’ anyways – at home I like to be what is first and foremost on J’s mind.  
I love that he calls me K and I call him J.  It is something very ‘us’ – and should not be invaded upon by anyone else.   To everyone else, I am Kara.  Kara – with the first “a” being long and the second “a” being short.  I would hate for anyone reading to have the wrong pronunciation of my name going through his or her mind. Yes, I am extremely territorial, hardheaded and opinionated.
What is it like being the ‘significant other’ of a writer?  Hmm, well that seems to be too narrow of a question, as I cannot separate the writer Jhon from the rest of him.  The title of ‘writer’ makes up who he is – just as does friend, husband, father, lover.
He does have those ‘things’ that only writers have – always carrying around a moleskin and pencil (has since I met him 11 years ago), scraps of papers, napkins, receipts filled with ideas, no book he reads goes unblemished of notes, idea and wandering thoughts. When he has a thought – he must put it to paper – no matter where or when – even mid-conversation (at which point I am shushed or a ‘wait” finger goes up.)  Sometimes I am surprised that he waits until we’re done ‘recreating’ before getting out that little black notebook.  I try not to be offended when that  ‘thought’ he must just put to paper has nothing to do with the love making that just transpired.
A ‘must’ on our list when looking for a house to spend the rest of our lives in – was that it must have a room just for him to write in.  Of course that room is more than just a place to write – it is a sanctuary to meditate, breathe, create, read,  study, and sometimes watch Family Guy.   It is where all of the typewriters are kept.  He prefers to type the old – fashioned way, which is highly romantic, and sometime a bit on the loud side.  I have only myself to blame for that as the first Birthday gift I gave him was a typewriter I rescued from a resale shop.
Jhon is inspired by everything around him – and sees things so differently from most – and this really comes through in his writing, music and art.  He feels with such depths of his heart and soul  – and is such a wonderful and good human being.  His thirst for knowledge is astounding –and I don’t think it will ever be quenched.  At any given moment he is in the middle of reading 2 or 3 books, several magazines, researching his latest obsession online, and of course keeping up with what you all are up to in the blogging world.  I must admit that some of the blogs out there bug the hell out of me – and I don’t see the point of them really – other than being romance novel sort of entertainment or on the lines of hustler.  I’ve never been a romance novel reader or an ‘adult magazine’ connoisseur – and the point of networking through such sites is – well a little beyond me.   But sometimes one does have to stretch outside the box to become more recognized.
Of course, there are the times when Jhon is extremely hard on himself; does not like anything he’s written and can’t stand to read his own work any more.  Aren’t we all our own worst critics?  If we weren’t we would never strive to be better and continue to learn.  I always try to be as supportive as possible.  I think Jhon’s a positively brilliant writer – and I probably don’t tell him that enough. 
I try to support – by keeping him well fed, well sexed, being aware of his needs – to know when to leave him the hell alone, and getting him a pair of clean socks everyday.
            As his wife, the one who knows him best, I have the distinct honor of getting to read almost all of his work – and have read more than anyone else.  I love having the chance to be his editor and agent.  It takes me a while to digest and to really be able to comment – which I think, drives him nuts sometimes.  But, it is an always-honest review of what he has written.  It speaks volumes of our relationship that he is able to take criticism from me, and even advice on how maybe to change things. 
            Jhon’s love of learning is truly an inspiration for me to keep learning as well.  It also inspires our son to love learning – it is wonderful that he already has such a love for the written word, writing his own poems and stories just like Daddy.  Jhon is a renaissance man – with so many passions in this life.  At times such a seemingly contradictory man, a Buddhist, a gun owner, an animal lover, a human rights advocate, a PTO Co-President.  Well, I guess the the only contradiction here is ‘gun owner.” But, he also love knives, too. (I forgot Biker!)
            This seems to have been a ramble of sorts – it’s always been very difficult for me to pinpoint my feelings about Jhon – they are so overwhelming – as I am so in love with him.  He’s my best friend –  and through everything we’ve been through over the past 11 years – nothing will ever come between us.  Being a writer is just who Jhon is – has always been – since forever.  He has overcome so many obstacles to get to where he is today – a very respected writer.  It’s hard to believe that anyone could have ever told him that he was not smart enough – just goes to prove that our past is what makes us what we are today.  
            And on one final note – one of Jhon’s favorite stores in Chicago – right down State Street from the Art Institute happens to be Blicks. (We went there after our first trip to the Art Institute together.)  I have been witness to Jhon’s wholehearted generosity more than once in the past years – and it always amazes me to be in the presence of such an Angel.  He’s my Angel  – and I would not be here without him. I only hope to be as good of a person as he is one day.   Through his writing, I hope that his light will shine on you as well.
January 21, 2011

by jhon baker

It was -25 this morning with the wind chill. So I went for a motorcycle ride. I died.

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January 20, 2011

I didn’t mean to take a nap yesterday

by jhon baker

It’s god damned cold outside – or rather, in my garage where I am writing this at a little after one in the morning.  I can often be found out here in the wee hours of the morning when I can’t sleep, simply, I can smoke out here. I suppose I could in the house but I detest the smell over everything and care about the lungs of the members of my family.

I took two showers today for no other reason than it was the right thing to do.

I keep tinkering with a few lines and haven’t been able to decide what I want to do with them, maybe they are no good but I am attached to them these past few days.

there always is the undertow of violins, violas
played by the fingers of air

even around the smoothest of lakes
in the quietuses of night.

(hoc scripsi, unfinished)

It pleads for more but I can’t think of it. I like it enough that I don’t wish to regard it to the pile of unfinished and stuck poetry which is getting large. Going through today to organize last years efforts I couldn’t find my original typewritten copies of nearly everything I wrote last year – such distress! Nearly in a panic I located it filed about three files away from where it should have been – such relief!

BTW, now all of my past posts have been labeled and can be found in groups (where that applies) at the bottom of the page, at least until Rabbit redesigns everything and I no longer know where shit is around here, like when K cleans everything without my being around; I get lost.

I think I have decided to break up last years efforts into a few (read two) different chap books. So I am going to start the deal of submission and rejection and hopefully acceptance eventually. I like the idea of something smaller and cheaper that may be easier to digest. For the paper impaired (I’m looking at you Patrick) I will insist that they also be available in an e-reader format or just do it myself and split the proceeds with whoever publishes. Any Suggestions? I don’t expect that they’ll be available this year as I am still trying to place many of them in journals and online and they will need tinkering and such, but this is now in the thought process.

okay I am a bit scattered tonight and it’s taken me about an hour to write this and fuck around on the internet a bit (no porn though, don’t worry my love).

January 19, 2011

too early in the morning and I’ve yet to finish a poem this week

by jhon baker

It’s about two in the morning, I’ve a terrible headache and find myself gravitating to yet another mad writer. I had to put down my William Carlos Williams volume II because his imagery is enough to stagger my further ability to parse more poetry. Some poets I can sit and read through masses of their work, enjoying quite a bit of it, while others (like WCW) I have to ingest more slowly; make a complete study of his form and ability. But WIlliams was not mad and I’ve alluded to the insanity of another poet I’ve decided to start a study of now. Anne Sexton.
While being quite familiar with her works already and her death, there was scan familiarity with her and her somewhat unique dedication to her work. I’ve started with a perusal of her letters (what has been published) for now as I am not sure I can intake the severity of her work tonight. After all, I do want to sleep.
My writing method and Anne’s seems similar in its obsessive rewriting and need to solidify the line and word structure. So this might be a positive influence on my poem but an ill advised influence on my mental state. Time will tell. I don’t think I’ve found a better influence than WCW in that I don’t write much like him and most certainly do not share his method or ability. WCW was much more prolific than I have ever been, Like Anne, I cannot leave a poem alone until it is it’s own and I can no longer own it. Leonard Cohen is also like this in writing – I envy those that can write a completed poem nearly daily.

on that which has been plaguing my sleep…
Over the past few nights I keep dreaming that I am being pursued into hell by an enthusiastic and stunningly wretched demon or the devil himself – trapped in a wasting forest, mired ankle deep in mud and telephoning for a savior that can only quote useless scripture, my leg is grasped tightly by a minion looking for a replacement limb, a leg I think – where mine is already damaged, its is worse, its whole self is distorted and seems to be linking itself back together through the bodies of others, in its basement is kept the most vicious of animals and the floors are bathed in blood and alcohol. These dreams are not tempered by visions of former life or current joys, impenetrable in terror and my sleep is abating in restfulness.

so I don’t leave this post on that note…
I’ve missed a magpie- I had no ideas for an image that is so familiar to me – well, there were ideas but they weren’t good verse, at least in my view. I am not sure that the photo of old friends bundled in winter conversations in sepia tone is going to be much easier for me either.
I’ll come up with something. This day, after I sleep is going to have to involve a letter to my aunt and some time with the typer. No matter what comes out.