New Year, New Chapbook, New Shop

It appears that I never wrote about completing from somewhere along the way, my 2015 collection of writing. Better late than never?

make / mend came into the world on December 31, 2016.

Since 2013, I haven't finished a chapbook earlier than December. A part of me scoffs at the fact that I clearly procrastinated, and another part of me is relieved that I've actually met my annual chapbook goal, albeit by the skin of my teeth.

I also opened an online shop, with all of my chapbooks from past years on it, at discounted prices. I may include my pottery on it someday, but for now they are objects I believe need to be touched before they are purchased.

The last weeks of the year were stressful, with an unplanned return to car-free life (a somewhat inaccurate description because I still have access to friends' cars), and with the impending sense of doom hanging over the coming administration. Our government has never felt, in my lifetime, as blatantly corrupt as it does now. My illusions of America as the land of the free have been stripped away and replaced with a painful awareness of how ruthless capitalism is, and how deadly it is, interwoven with structural racism and neocolonialism.

And yet, the mundanity of life, for many of us, carries on. There are banks and businesses and manufacturers some are trying to stay away from moreso than before.

Those of us who fear for ourselves and our communities are each trying our best to do what we can in the face of what's to come.

It is strange, this feeling that terrible changes are taking place, but that the concerns of rent money, how to support myself, my community, and, someday, my aging parents, are still very much present. It feels like we are fighting for our survival, and at the same time, life does not feel so much different.

There is a sinking feeling in the air, we are wary of the coming administration-- and the fact that this country has not encountered this situation before. Another country meddling in our election rather than the other way around. A reality show figure elected despite the many marks against his character.

Is this what it feels like to live under a failing government?

Meanwhile, I am trying to cultivate change, in what small ways I can. Gardening projects. Making pots. Writing.

To be honest, it sounds a bit ridiculous.

'planting' published in eleven eleven // chapbooking

It's two months from the end of 2015. That means that the annual frenzy to meet my one chapbook per year objective is beginning in earnest. I'm hoping to do better this year than I have in the last two, when I was editing until late December. My goal for printing this year is November 22, one month earlier than the last two years, though 4 months later than my initial intention for a summer release. I've been "working on it" since early spring, but with outdoor education becoming an ever-larger part of my life and livelihood, I've been away from my computer for much of the last six months. 

Most recently, I worked as a wilderness instructor for Eagle Rock School, walking with heavy packs and wet boots around the Gila Wilderness. I got back to Oakland on Thursday, and am feeling that sweet end-of-the-year procrastinator's pressure for the chapbook. I managed to do a bit of ruminating and planning while in the backcountry, which is the most fun and easiest part. Now comes the writing and editing. 

The place I had my final editing frenzy last year was Philz Coffee in West Berkeley. Near closing time, I had sheets of paper spread around me, working furiously, cutting and taping pieces of poems together with plans to print within the hour. A fellow with thick dark-rimmed glasses and gray hair sat at the table with a friendly nod. As he prepared to leave, he asked me whether I was working on a manuscript. We talked briefly about chapbooks and he gave me his card; it turned out that he was the editor of Eleven Eleven, a literary and art journal out of California College of the Arts.  

Once what is precious was printed (by Office Depot), folded and stapled (by me), I sent him a copy of my chapbook, not thinking much of it other than that I wanted to share with him what I had been working on. Some time later, a different editor emailed me, having read that chapbook, and he invited to submit for Issue 19. I submitted a few pieces, including planting, which was in my very first chapbook, Tracing Steps, and which was accepted. The issue was published and mailed out while I was working. I was excited to come back from Colorado to find the journal and see the piece in print. 

I like that they didn't mind that it was previously self-published; one of the roadblocks to me submitting to journals is that I do much of my writing online and most publications want never-before-seen material.

I only have a couple of copies of Tracing Steps left. I've decided that I won't be printing more of them, and that I'll only print one run of future chapbooks. The mental and physical space needed to keep up with my annual chapbooking goal makes it unsustainable to keep printing new runs of old books.

Writing has become ever more a personal practice more than a professional pursuit, but maybe someday I'll find a publisher interested in editing them all together... or I'll do it myself through the magic of print-on-demand. Who knows.

Off to keep working on the next chapbabe! Or bake cookies.

You can get a copy of Eleven Eleven Issue 19 here.

My Morning Coffee & Writing Ritual

I've been fine-tuning my morning writing ritual since 2008. I like writing in the morning, preferably by the light of an oil lamp if it's the wee hours, and the coffee is as much a part of the process as the ink and notebook. 

Sometimes, I have tea. Sometimes, I'm in a car. Sometimes, I'm at a picnic table in a campground. Sometimes it's in a cafe. Sometimes, I don't write at all-- but that's quite rare these days. 

I call it a ritual rather than a routine because I have such a reverence for the block of time I spend making my the coffee and then writing. It helps me think. It helps me stay sane. It helps me figure things out, get grounded. It's a meditation practice. I've called the writing "morning crazy talk" and "morning dump." I go to sleep pretty excited about my morning dump. Maybe that's what helps me wake up early without an alarm: the anticipation for this rather pleasurable ritual.

There might be a few days every month or two when I do not do the morning writing, either by choice or by chance. Those days make me treasure my ritual even more.

My mode of coffee-ing has varied from making Vietnamese-style drip coffee with condensed milk, to using a French press, to a moka, to making cowboy coffee. This pourover method is the latest, and I have a feeling it's going to stick.

I take this ritual with me wherever I go. Friends expect to see me with my coffee kit now when I roll into town.  

Electric kettles only recently entered my life. And oh, how fantastic they are. I thought I wouldn't prefer them over a regular kettle, but I do. I do.

I fill it to the count of 20.

This particular kettle is in the Noble Hotel staff kitchen for NOLS instructors (and interns) passing through Lander.

This is the travel kit this time around:

- a manual coffee mill (babysitting it...)
- #4 drip cone and paper filter
- my favorite mug
- whole coffee beans

I keep a small amount of beans in the tin, and the rest in an airtight container. Freshness is key to good coffee. Along with process.

I use two tablespoons (sometimes heaping) of whole beans for an 8-9 ounce cup of coffee.

These beautiful beans are from Dark Horse Coffee Roasters in San Diego. I'd tell you which one it is, but you really should go down to your local roaster/coffee shop and check out their beans. Another favorite is Raxakoul in Berkeley.

Dark Horse has a shop in Truckee now. All the more reason to hang out in Donner Pass next summer.

So, I cultivate particularities. Such as this.

I like to fold the seams of my coffee filter so that it rests more snugly in the drip cone.

I'm not sure it actually works, but it gives me good feelings.

By the time I've gathered my coffee bits and folded my filter, the water has come to a boil.

I pour some into the cup to warm it.

I wet and warm the paper filter. I like to think it helps ease away paper flavors, and that it allows the coffee to flow through more tastily.

This process is much easier than a French press when camping because there's no need to wash anything.

I'm not sure whether the mass manufacture of these recycled, biodegradable filters uses more or less water than it would take for me to rinse out a re-usable filter each day. Thoughts?

While the water eases off the boil, I quickly grind the coffee.

I've counted the number of turns it takes. On average, it takes around 70 turns for my morning cup.

It is easiest to grind with the mill between your thighs.

Go head, snicker.

After I open the grinder, I usually take a deep, glorious whiff of the freshly ground beans. It's one of the best parts of the whole process.

I put the coffee into the cone and slowly pour in just enough hot water to soak them, watching the lovely, pale brown "bloom" appear.

When there is a creamy bloom such as this, I know the coffee is going to be good.

Once it subsides, I try my best to pour in the rest of the 8ish ounces in a slim stream, making sure to create turbulence all around the cone (more frothiness!). This part of the process can be mesmerizing, so be careful not to overfill the cone. This will lead to some over extraction or a weak cup, not to mention possible spillage.

It's happened to me a couple of times.


And then, voila. You have your cup. And it is beautiful.

My cup has a patina (stains). Please don't let that distract you from the fact that this is delicious.

Don't sip it too much too soon, though. You'll burn your tongue. And that will be sad.

I carefully take the steaming cup of coffee to my designated morning writing area, where I reverently take a few sips.

Then, the crazy talk begins.

The red hanky is there because I'm afraid of dripping ink on the table. I write with india ink of various colors. The pen is a wooden chopstick that I drilled a hole into. I wrapped it in electrical tape for grip. The notebook is from Art Alternatives.


And there it is. My mornings (mostly). I hope you create/nurture a ritual of your own that nourishes you. Maybe it doesn't involve writing, maybe it does. Maybe it involves caffeine, maybe it doesn't. What I do know, after six years of doing this, is that it feels really good to have at least a little time and space with your thoughts in the morning.

I started with just one page in a wide-rule notebook, and maybe twenty minutes. It all starts somewhere. All it takes it starting.

Further reading:

• Coffee Science: How to Make the Best Pourover Coffee at Home
• The Hidden Costs of Coffee

Another Chapbook Was Born // earth things

In the final days of 2013, I was able to keep the vow I made to myself about making a chapbook every year, forever. I made this vow in 2010. I violated the vow in 2011. 2012 and 2013 have been kept. Three of four so far. Hopefully the ratio only gets better.

earth things, December 2013

Though it makes me a little nauseated after having just expended a lot of energy to complete earth things, I can't help thinking already about what I will put together for 2014. I haven't even taken the time yet to really sit with this collection that I've made.

At this point, I think it is safe to say that putting together a chapbook has become a part of my writing process. After posting so many pieces over a period of time, whether it's a year or several, it feels necessary to make something cohesive out of the mess. One of the initial reasons that I began making chapbooks was that I was reading poetry at various spaces often, and I liked the idea of putting together something that people can walk away with.

The process of making Tracing Steps helped me work through the writing I did about my experience traveling to Cambodia for the first time, interacting with being in the "motherland" as a member of the diaspora, and the reality check the experience gave me about the idea of home.

The process of making of cities and lovers was a way of thinking about moving away from LA, all the things I'd found here, all the things I'd be leaving behind. "drifters (perhaps not)" is a piece about my mixed feelings about being someone who simultaneously wants to build community while also being in different places often. And it was also a sort of love letter to LA. There are many love letters to be written to LA.

A lot of the feeling behind earth things came from a period of writing I did back in March 2010. It was around that time that I really began to embrace trying to grow things after the early college experiments. I had a photo album on Facebook called "Do you believe in magic?" that was dedicated to photos of my plant babies and sproutlings. Since then, I've spent more and more time with dirt and growing things and thinking about my relationship with the earth, our relationship with one another, how to create balance, how to grow. The pieces in the collection were written over the last few years, and edited most fiercely in the 24 hours before printing.

Copernicus, my late-night editing assistant.

After having already put together two chapbooks, some of the logistical concerns for earth things were lessened. I think I stalled a bit on completing the collection because I was dreading the formatting part. The editing happened in earnest when I let go of attachment to creating a new aesthetic for the book and let myself stick to what I found worked in terms of font/size for previous chapbooks.

A few notes if you're looking to create (a half-page 5.5"x 8.5") chapbook:

• Your final page count should be divisible by 4 to ensure full use of both sides of each sheet.
• Size each page to 5.5" wide by 8.5" tall, adjust margins to .25"
• CreateBooklet is what I use to put the document into proper PDF printing form. Saves me the headache of trying to figure out what page goes where.
• It can be based on a theme, or a time period, or anything you want, really. Mine are thematic because that's how my brain works. 
• Printing and laying everything out helps.
• Taking time between editing sessions (days, weeks, months) also helps.
• Do not underestimate the power of a glass of wine and a soak in a hot tub.

Excerpt from earth things:

Happy new year.

National Poetry Month Begins Tomorrow

And with it, National Poetry Writing Month. 

As I did last year, I'll strive to write a poem a day at Long Cool Hallway. A little nervous about this as I'm also occupied with my transition to Oakland, but I remind myself that there is always time. 

Dispatch from Cambodia, 9 // So Much Reading

I’ve said many times that I don’t know what I expected this time in Cambodia to be like. It’s mostly true-- except for this sliver of me that did imagine it might be some kind of grand adventure. That I'd come to know Phnom Penh like the back of my hand, that I might rent a small room in the middle of the city and spend my days writing and walking and maybe even scooting around on a moto. That’s how imagined the two months after my parents left would go. 

Fear begets fear. Power begets power.

- Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail 

It’s been almost the exact opposite. I’ve allowed myself to stay in the warm, occasionally-stifling care of my aunts. I now understand that one of the reasons I keep myself at a distance from family is to avoid absorbing all their worried energy. I love connecting with them and discovering all the things we have in common and learning about their lives, but the degree to which they worry about me is debilitating. I don’t feel like my best self when I’m infected with so much fear.

On the other hand, it’s also nice to have a time of quiet and routine. There's a satisfying rhythm to the process of washing dishes in the backyard, using the minimum amount of water necessary. I'm getting better at wringing out my clothes to hang-dry. Nightly lessons in Khmer have me reading almost at kindergarten level. I’ve a room in which to write, and a nice cafe nearby for occasional internet binges. 

In the last three weeks, I’ve read six books: the first four books in the Game of Thrones series (which at times feels like a train wreck I can’t tear my eyes away from), The Motorcycle Diaries by Che Guevarra, and Wild by Cheryl Strayed. The latter two are both good books about journeys. I related to each of them. I’ve never been able to bring myself to indulge in marginalia, but I am wont to write down passages from books that strike me, and I've gathered quite a few from each. 

The last book about writing I read said that sometimes reading is an escape from writing. Hm. I’ve read eight books so far during this trip, and after a one-day pause, I started on the ninth: The Land of Little Rain by Mary Austin. But I am writing, which I can say for certain is one of the things I came here for. Soon after I arrived, Zen Pencils released "Air and light and time and space" and I remembered that there is always time for writing. As I veer closer and closer to my return to California and all that's waiting for me there, I'm holding that  thought close.

One of my writing spots at the farmhouse.

It's National Poetry Month!

March was an experiment in daily blogging here. I told myself that I would attempt to post every weekday for the entire month. It was a success! The practice of writing daily (which sometimes means scraping together a post of questionable quality) can be messy, sloppy, and inelegant, but because we're trained (and perhaps naturally compelled) to revel our milestones, it still feels good to have made my goal. 

Because it is now a month for poetry, I'm concentrating my efforts this month (through June) at my online notebook, Long Cool Hallway. Of course, much of my writing in the last 5 years has been about Los Angeles, wherever I was writing.

I've listed the site at NaPoWriMo.net, and if you're writing poetry anywhere on the internet this month, I encourage you to join. I've come across some wonderful work perusing the site. I like knowing even more people than usual are scrambling to write poetry this month. And Tuesday Night Cafe returned from winter break. And it also happens to be my birth-month. So much to celebrate! 

On Working in Skid Row

Last month, I was invited to write an article about working in Skid Row for the Public Allies National newsletter. Here it is:

I don't really know how to pose for portraits. 2/14/12

As a case manager at SRO Housing, I work with seniors living in the 50-block area of Los Angeles known as "Skid Row," which holds the largest concentration of homeless people in the country. Yes, there is trash in the streets.  Yes, I have seen people use drugs in broad daylight. These are the images that people expect and fear in Skid Row, but I've come to understand that this is only part of the story.  Beyond its needs and problems, there is also great potential.  I've learned to look at Skid Row as a community rather than as a scary, chaotic place. 

Change Ain't So Bad // Notebook Saga

Yesterday I finished writing on the very last page of my very last Earthbound Cachet notebook. I was filled with despair each day I came closer and closer to the end. And then I reached the end. And that was it. Nothing exploded. I didn't start crying. I closed the notebook, picked up my coffee mug, and went outside to water my plants. 

I woke up this morning and faced the new notebook I got from the clearance rack at Raw Materials:

Half an inch shorter. Stark white, smooth pages instead of fibrous ones. A slick-textured cover instead of a plain brown one. 

I opened it and started writing. And I remembered how, yes, exhilarating writing in a brand-spankin' new notebook can be. So I'm not facing a wild case of writer's block because of it. And if I had writer's block for morning brain vomit (which is what this notebook is for-- I started the ritual while trying not to go crazy in late 2007), then there's something bigger going on than a case of the wrong notebook. 

[While writing this post, I was reading this one. Ha.]