Post-Post-Apocalyptic

So I made it through the last reading of the un’s post-apocalyptic feminist literature course (cheating slightly and not re-reading McCarthy’s The Road because it’s still fairly fresh from last fall’s reading; on the other hand, I could count two extracurricular readings in Doris Lessing’s Mara and Dann and Markson’s Wittgenstein’s Mistress which would have happily coexisted with the rest of the reading list.) It’s a semi-serious joke that I’m homeschooling myself towards the MFA that I won’t go into debt for (and this makes me wonder what value it would have) while Raven’s trying to get a new business going, but I am not required to write a term paper (nor for that matter, to grade it!) Still....

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Posted by Mara Collins on Apr 29, 2009 | 2 comments

Campaign

There it is, in the 31st line of Francis Thompson’s Hound of Heaven “With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over” I have never seen the word ‘skiey’ before and besides loving its challenge of pronunciation — it doesn’t roll off your tongue does it, with its two syllable that have a hard time distinguishing themselves from each other? — I am delighted that it means exactly what it sounds like, it is a real word, and I immediately start looking for ways to use it. The problem I encounter is how nothing strikes me as particularly skiey. The sky is so much its own thing, the closest most things get to resembling the sky is in color, but then it doesn’t take much attention to realize that there isn’t a single...

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Posted by Mara Collins on Apr 26, 2009 | 3 comments

Distress Signals

This morning during a rushed phone conversation with a friend who, though she lives only a couple of miles away, I keep in touch with more electronically than in person, we both noted that we realized the other had been having a rough time recently, we need to get together and talk. This sort of thing is always a little uncomfortable, of course. I race back through my Twitter stream making sure there is nothing indiscreet, and I suppose it’s much more about the blog. And I start thinking about caveats: I don’t blog when I am off having a terrific time do other things (because I am off having a terrific time doing other things!) and being able to blog when I am feeling frustrated/lonely/overwhelmed does help. I try very hard not to violate the privacy...

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Posted by Mara Collins on Apr 17, 2009 | 1 comment

subject verb object

The dreams I most hate waking up from are the ones where I am being ardently pursued, romantically pursued, not chased-by-a-bear pursued, and am being told of how fabulously desirable and so on I am. The dreams bear no guilt, are not about wanting a romantic relationship with anyone not my husband, don’t feel like a betrayal, or even a reflection on my husband busy doing those husbandly things like earning a living and so forth. They have no bearing on the actual and unbloggable work of relationship, and in all of my waking moments, the mature trading-in of the unsustainable pursuit of being pursued for the stability, the security, the sometimes even harmony of being in a family feels like I got the better half of the deal. Still, some mornings I hate waking...

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Posted by Mara Collins on Apr 17, 2009 | 0 comments

Carterhaugh

If Tam Lin has a lesson I suppose it is that we must hold fast to our loves no matter how monstrous they grow. Oh, Janet, or Margaret, however you are remembered — your green kirtle persisting better than your name (that ought to tell you something) You were no doubt strong as well as tenacious — did it not occur to you you might be merely persisting in folly? As for me — well, it’s my experience that sometimes it’s better to leave to the faeries their playthings.

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Posted by Mara Collins on Apr 10, 2009 | Comments Off