John Oliver Simon

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

What am I doing here in the flatland of DeKalb, Illinois? This is my vacation, hanging out with Becky. And then the other night I got sick, sore throat, maybe recurrence of the flu-like bronchitis that kept me down much of the winter. Certainly a lot of overload in the mad week of getting ready to go. How much energy can I waste on ‘I don’t wanna’? I went to the local clinic where everyone was very nice, they accepted my Kaiser card, and gave me antibiotics because I knew exactly what I wanted. Think of it as a writer’s colony. I work all morning on my novel, while Becky’s at the Center. This afternoon as the weather is gorgeous, I spread the compost on the garden and oiled the redwood bear. Already feeling a little better. Maybe by Saturday I’ll be up to a mild hike at Castle Rock. And what will we do with our lives, one day, one season at a time?  1:55 PM

Sunday, March 28, 2004

I washed all my windows this weekend with windex and a lot of paper towels. Looking out on: toddlers riding tricycles down my block, teenagers bopping to the beat, squirrels on their busy rounds, blackberries, lemons, the side alley overgrown with sourgrass. Looking in on: my piles of books and papers, my ancestors in their gilt frames, my clothes draped over the backs of chairs. Cleaning the windows of perception. Who’s home?
4:58 PM

Saturday, March 20, 2004

Bothered by: chagrin that I postponed and then spaced out getting it together to place my books from the 60′s in the Dennis Koran collection at UC. Contacted his son; is it still possible? All the ways I don’t quite show up for my own work. Completely spaced out my appointment with Tobey last week. How do I tell the young cat it’s okay to kill mice but not birds? All the days that are too full with teaching and errands and good stuff and I end up bushed in the evening and waking way before 6 am all too ready to go when I could sleep in. Or the cat bounces in at 4 am wanting to play. Depressive lull in the middle almost every afternoon. Unmanageability with money, haven’t called the carpenter/contractors, want to argue w/ C. who doesn’t see any difference between Bush & Kerry, when will Becky & I see each other this summer…On the other hand: great teaching days, rich friendships, my novel is rolling along including useful dialogue with Katrina, great to work with Kia on this website, fine bike riding, over & back the Golden Gate last weekend in fellowship and again after CAT meeting at sunset, good to have my strength back after that horrible flu in the winter, naps! helping out my pal M. with legal troubles, showing up with immediate honesty, being of service, many days I do get a lot done, there will always be loose ends, C’s politics are beyond my control, a kick to hang out with Viv while she did my taxes, sweet cuddling with the cat, on my way to see Becky soon…  11:45 AM

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

Dreams forgotten faintly reminiscent of last night’s movie “Triplets of Belleville,” up at first light and went running a slow two miles as the sun slowly tilted from the headlands of Marin to the flatlands of Berkeley. Still winter theoretically but everything is green and lush, highs will be in the eighties. NPR says snow in Illinois where my sweetie is leaping into her day. Garlic and red mustard in the garden, transplanted volunteer beets, holding off on planting tomatoes, green beans, corn and squash till next month. A feathered mess left as a gift on the couch. How can I praise Dusty for killing mice and convey to him that birds are a no-no? The virtual baseball games will probably get replayed because of a pitching glitch, too bad becasue we swept. Then I’ll drive into the potholed reaches of San Pablo to teach poetry at Downer School, the kids’ eagerness warming me already from afar. Only three sessions left before putting together the anthology of their poems and translations. Two of those have to be devoted to editing. How can I get the last fresh drop of imagination out of them today?   7:39 AM

Friday, March 05, 2004

Riding my bike through Tilden Park this afternoon my chain abruptly broke on the short uphill toward the Brazil Building. As I was contemplating the long, long walk home, in about two minutes a guy with a chain tool (mysterious millimetered instrument like a thumbscrew) stopped and fixed my chain. I don’t want to subscribe to the I got a parking place, God is on my side, view of Higher Power, but I sure got exactly what I needed today.  9:52 PM

Tuesday, March 02, 2004

A good long day at Downer School in San Pablo teaching Poetry Inside Out. The fifth grade translated “Llámame” by Aurelio Arturo, a great neglected poet from Colombia (1906-1974). “Llámame en la hondonada de tus sueños más dulces…” Call me in the canyon of your sweetest dreams. Some of the more literal kids had to be talked out of translating “sueños más dulces” as “dreams more candy.” Since it’s Theodore Geisel’s 100th birthday, I read The Cat in the Hat all the way through to Diana’s fourth grade. Safe bet these kids do not get Dr. Seuss read to them at home. Next week they’ll translate some farmworkers’ kids poems she picked out as we’re leading up to César Chávez’s birthday. First session with a third grade class, reading a selection from the Best of 03, then picking words to play with and improvise sentences. The best ones almost began to fly. The other fourth grade translated Tanka by Alberto Blanco:I see the light
of the first star
inside me

between the water and the sky
mirror of words

If you’re a Spanish-dominant fourth-grader, the spelling of “light” is not at all intuitive. Reminds me of Aram Saroyan’s great one-word poem “l i g h g h t.” And then getting Micaela, Luis and Hellen (that’s how she spells it) up before the class to practice reading aloud for tomorrow’s big Youth Arts Festival event in Berkeley which will hopefully begin to light the way to grander horizons beyond the barrio…
5:27 PM

Saturday, February 28, 2004

This afternoon I put my iBook in my backpack and biked over to my daughter Kia’s house in North Oakland, where she helped me create my website. Now I am real… I exist in cyberspace. Links to my books of poems, to my teaching, to my virtual baseball team… the possibilities are endless. To my cat Dusty. Hey, cat, you wanna be in cyberspace?   3:52 PM