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  1. The Clock, the Caravan, and Some Soup Cans

    January 27, 2013 by Carley

    We scored a free museum pass from Malka’s school, so I went to MOMA twice last week.  (Check it, I can get into ANY MUSEUM for free this year with a guest, so you need to go to some of this shit with me!)

    I spent 2:10 to 3:10 with Christian Marclay’s “Clock.”  When I walked in Mathew Broderick was passing out a test in Election.  I saw Agent Cooper spread out the fragments of Laura Palmer’s diary and Christian Bale’s woeful, lovely face while he waits for the train in the remake of 310 to Yuma.  John Travolta waiting for a bomb to detonate.  Robert Di Nero on a war ship.  Nicholas Cage, hungover in the afternoon and hanging up on Sam Rockwell in Leaving Las Vegas.  A woman writing in a notebook, “Time is eliminated.”  And lots of scenes I didn’t recognize.  I can’t hope to explain the pleasure of watching “The Clock.”  There were two five-year-old boys in front of me, who kept asking their exasperated mothers, “What time is it?”  Finally, one of the moms said, “Look at the screen.”  Something about this exchange made the rest of us laugh.  It’s hard to learn how to tell time, and then once we know how to do it, it’s inscribed everywhere or at least in our movies and stories.  The room was big and dark, there were about 40 big couches.  You sit with strangers, you wait for the next clip, and you watch.  There’s a lot of collective anticipation, giggling, gasps of recogition, and pockets of spacing out.  More than anything, I love the way “The Clock” helps you understand that narrative and story are always about the minutes and the movement of your own ticking, beating heart bomb.

    I went back on the last day of “The Clock,” but it was 3:45 and the line was 100 people deep and the installation was closing at 5:30.  The guard told me to give up, but I couldn’t accept it.  I waited in line for a half hour before wandering off into the rest of the museum.  I saw Polish sculptor Alina Szapocznikow’s uncanny wax lips, breasts, and phallus pieces.  I couldn’t quite take her work, but I had that queasy feeling that made me think I’ll have to go back.  I watched Eiko and Koma slowly crawl their bandaged, plastered bodies out of the trailer in The Caravan Project.  The installation reminded me of caves, beehives, and mummies–their movements in and out of the open trailer are hypnotic and a little scary.  Eventually, Eiko made it out of the side of the trailer (a kind of slow-mo stumble tumble), and the woman next to me said to her friend, “Eh, there she goes.  She’s out.”

    Up on the fifth floor, I stumbled upon Warhol’s soup cans, which I have always loved.  I like to check in on them so that I can see if I have a new favorite.  (more…)

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  2. What To Do When There’s Light

    November 20, 2012 by Carley

    So we live in a residence hall at NYU, and I suppose there is a lot to say about THAT (but I’ll save that for a whole other blog post).  For now (as a placeholder I guess) I will say that yes, every night I am the oldest person falling asleep in the building.  The oldest, yep, that’s me, and with the exception of Matt we’re talking about a lot of years.  I am a lady, so I won’t say how many.  Also, I don’t like to embarrass our residents.  Anyway, one of the best things about living in a residence hall and being a Faculty Fellow is that you have a whole bunch of able-bodied, excited, and fun young people around who are eager to work on projects that you dream up.

    Since our residence hall, Goddard, was one of the few buildings in all of lower Manhattan to have power during Hurricane Sandy (thanks NYU generator!), we had a lot of time and light in which to brood on the effects of climate silence and our own very lucky position.  Lower Manhattan was a strange place that week.  Many of us wandered around the empty streets and tried to scheme our way into Brooklyn or midtown for food and wine.  My friend Zach Michaels’ wrote a nice little essay about it, if you’re curious. Anyway, by the end of the week we were all stir-crazy, and ready to do something.  Our friend and chef, Scott Bridi, the man behind Brooklyn Cured started to cook for folks out in Red Hook.  I heard from poet friends on Facebook who were driving supplies to the Rockaways and Staten Island with their last bit of gas.  And then it seemed like it was our turn.  Our residents went down with us to the Lower East Side to work with the Center Against Anti-Asian Violence to distribute water, food, and batteries to the elderly who couldn’t get down the stairs in their building.  In the week after, our residents and our neighbors in other residence halls donated seven giant boxes of supplies to take to one of the Occupy Sandy drop-off sites.  And this last weekend, a big group of Goddardites went with Matt to the Rockaways to help clean up.  Anyway, I share this because we’ve done a little and there is still so much work to be do and a lot more need for volunteers and donations (see links throughout).  Also, I’m proud of our residents and I promised I would blog about them.

    Here’s what Matt had to say about the day in the Rockaways, “We didn’t know what to expect, but Bridget O’Connor, our Residence Hall Resource Manager, who lives in Rockaway and whose home had been hit hard by the storm, led us to where she knew we’d be useful.  She dropped us off at the makeshift headquarters of Team Rubicon, which is dispatching crews of volunteers to individual homeowners who have requested help.  Our group–16 Goddard residents and myself, plus a couple that joined us–spent the day at the home of a man who had already moved out his family and precious possessions.  He asked us to remove everything in the house, including all his family’s furniture and things, but also floors, tile, baseboards, sheetrock–everything that had been destroyed by the flooding.  We took everything to the street, where construction equipment scooped it up and brought it in endless loads to the enormous dumpster at the end of the block (which would itself later be carted to the enormous pile of debris near Jacob Riis Park).  In 4 or 5 hours, we were able to empty the house and do some demolition, though we could only make a dent in the waterlogged basement and the piles of ruined items that filled it.  Our team was amazing–they worked like crazy and barely took a break for granola bars and water.  They kept their spirits up despite the heaviness of the situation.  How many other houses in the area need a whole crew to do a whole day’s work?  It’s a big mess, and a big job that may take a long time to get done.”

    And for those of you looking to donate or volunteer, here are the links again to places we’ve worked with who are doing amazing things:

    Occupy Sandy

    Team Rubicon

    YA for New Jersey (this is new and a cool way for book lovers to help out in New Jersey)

     

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  3. Going Too Far Together

    October 28, 2012 by Carley

    So how do you get a hundred twelve and thirteen year-old girls to write together on a Friday afternoon at 1:30?  Well, you start by going to The Hewitt School, which already has in place a writing-based curriculum and a commitment to hosting writers of all kinds (thank you amazing Hewitt English teachers! and thank you to my friend and colleague, Maureen Burgess Chalfen, who is the Dean of Teaching and Learning in Humanities and the Chair of English Department at Hewitt and has worked so hard to bring writing-to-learn strategies from Bard College’s Institute for Writing and Thinking to her school!).

    And then, I guess, you try to ask them a question they can’t resist answering.  More on that in a second.

    First, I want to say that I had a great time on Friday talking with Hewitt students about The Stalker Chronicles.  I shared some stalker-related images, I read two different scenes from the book, we wrote together and shared some of that writing, and we had a lively Q and A.  Hewitt students are excited, informed, and so supportive of one another!  I was impressed by how hard they worked and also how much fun we had together.  But it’s true, my favorite part of my two-hour visit was well, the writing.

    SPOILER ALERT!  After I read a scene from The Stalker Chronicles–the one in which my protagonist Cammie Bliss goes through her crush’s garbage–I asked students to “tell the story of a time when you or a character went too far.”  We freewrote (trying not to censor and or do much editing) for about ten minutes and then we each bracketed off a sentence or two to share with the larger group.  Check out the pictures above of students sitting on the floor of the gym and using their chairs as writing desks!

    The students wrote great pieces (both fictional and autobiographical) about girls who are curious, who want to take leaps, and who follow boys, friends, and teachers because they have questions they can’t get answered.  They wrote about girls who are brave, who are freaked out, and who’s bodies move through spaces and landscapes that don’t always fit.

    Thanks for writing with me Hewitt!

     

     

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  4. Groupies!

    October 19, 2012 by Carley

    This new book I’m working on has got me thinking about groupies–their special tricks, how they used to look in the late 80s, their devotion, their role in rock and roll literature, and how they are a kind of expert stalker.  In some sense their over-the-top behavior is socially sanctioned, or at least expected.  I think the craziest groupie behavior I’ve read about has been in Motley Crue: The Dirt (forgive me Crue fans and Germans I cannot get my keyboard to make an umlaut and I kind of don’t care enough to do a help search on that shit).  My friend, Dave Smith, aka, Smoota, a rock god in his own right, told me to read this because it’s real and raw.  And it is–not surprisingly these guys are terrible pigs and the stuff women do for and with them sometimes breaks my tender feminist heart.  But I keep reading, you know, for the research.  Everyone (except of course for their billions of fans) hates these guys and they hate each other, and yet there are so many groupies doing just about anything with them in hot tubs, closets, and cars.

    The interweb tells me that a groupie is “a person who seeks sexual and/or emotional intimacy with a celebrity or other authority figure.”  Okay, that sounds about right.  I think it’s easy to overlook the emotional intimacy part and to focus on the sex.  I guess, because the sex part is, well, sexier.  I should probably say something here about Penny Lane, the groupie in Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous who helped us see the more complicated, emotional role that groupies can play in the lives of bands.  I think she (Kate Hudson) even has a little monologue about this, but I haven’t seen the movie in a while and I’m a little scared to watch it because people keep saying, “Oh it’s like Almost Famous,” when I tell them about my book.  “No, it’s totally different!” I shout at them in my head, where things are always very emphatic or lately, I just say, “Yeah, it’s Almost Famous but for women.”  See, I’m ready to go to pitch meeting.

    I wasted a good hour of writing time yesterday looking at images of groupies online, and so now I will share them with you so that you can waste some of your precious time.  I’m especially partial to the one of Cynthia Plaster Caster staring lovingly (maniacally?) at one of her penis casts.  Check out the devotion of those Kiss groupies (the one in the middle is not actually naked) and also the sly looks of those 60s girls.

     

     

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  5. This Week in Images

    August 31, 2012 by Carley

    Some images from this week and some animals who may or may not be stalking you:

    Two shirtless homeless men wrestling over change outside the Washington Square Park entrance.  The crowd’s confusion about whether or not it’s sport or fight.

    The first-year student who Malka and I see barefoot in the Starbucks of our residence hall.  Later, I watch her run–still shoeless–into traffic to talk to a boy.  The car stops, she waves, and then tries to convince the boy to come into Starbucks with her.

    Glass breaking, metal against metal, the beeping back-up noise that garbage trucks make.  NYU, what exactly are you hauling out of the library in the middle of the night?

    The look on some of the faces of the parents on Move-In Day.  “You’re gonna take care of my kid, right?  No, really, you will, right?”

    The rip-ripping sound of the Velcro on the leg brace I’m wearing at night to try to mend my heel.  I wore leg braces when I was a kid, and I’m surprised and not-surprised to find that Velcro is still pretty much the main technology for affixing straightening devices to one’s legs.

    Malka looks out the living room window yesterday and says to me, “Look mom, look at all of the princess castles.”

    We walk by the Disney princess toy section in Barnes and Noble, which of course, I always try to ignore.  Malka stops in front of a toy carriage (I guess it belongs to Cinderella) and says, “Oh my god, it’s the most special wagon in the world.”  I can do nothing, but agree.

    Drumming, piano playing, smooth jazz, Dixieland, folk, and all-manner of hooting, wooting, and call and response.

    Matt and I standing on the corner of Thompson and 3rd Street.  I say, “Where do you eat around here?”  He says, “I have no idea.”

    Re-reading the first forty pages on my novel-in-progress and trying to find the thread.

     

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  6. The Sad-Sads: On Melancholia

    July 31, 2012 by Carley

    It’s a nice day.  I’m writing from the middle of a week-long vacation in San Francisco/Berkeley/Oakland with Matt.  Malka is staying with my mom and step-dad.  It’s so great to visit with friends like Mari L’Esperance, Alex Baker, David Buuck, and Bill Webb.  I’m writing from David’s sun-drenched kitchen with his two dogs, Buster and Polly Jean, nearby.  Later, David says we’ll eat homemade plum compote and ice cream, and I’m honored to be interviewed by Estelle Hallick, co-creator of the lovely and smart blog, I’d Rather Be Reading.  It’s live today and you can enter to win a free copy of The Stalker Chronicles.

    So, I try not to have mom guilt, because I think it’s mostly culturally inscribed, but Malka is having a hard time without us and missing us a lot and I’m missing her, and so there’s that…

    Guilt, I suspect, is a close-cousin to melancholy and I’ve been thinking a lot lately about women and melancholia.  I was lucky enough to see the final 13P production of Sarah Ruhl’s amazing new musical comedy, “Melancholy Play.”  I loved it!!!!!  I don’t know what to say about it yet because it’s complicated and beautiful and weird.  At the center, is the protagonist Tilly, who works at a bank and suffers from a beautiful, alluring melancholia that makes everyone (men and women alike) fall for her, want to be with her, make love to her, etc…but then she gets happy and becomes unbearable and uninteresting.  In the second half of the play she says things like, “I’m so happy I’m just gonna burst” and carries balloons around and rides around on a bicycle.  There’s a wonderful therapist character, Lorenzo, who speaks in a a hilarious psuedo-Italian accent, another character, Frances, who may or may not turn into an almond, and it’s all sung!!!  At its core this play makes me think about what’s possible when we’re sad, and why we make so little room these days for melancholy.  Also, what do we do with our sadness?  When do we acknowledge the little holes in our lives or our difficult feelings?  How can melancholy become a kind of game?  How is it seductive and alluring, a kind of deep-centering force?  Dunno.  But I think the musical has some answers.  Here’s one of Tilly’s arias... (more…)

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  7. Okay Insomnia, You Win

    July 2, 2012 by Dan

    Is it insomnia when your daughter wakes you up at 2:30 am to pee and you can’t go back to sleep because you find yourself obsessing about pressing matters like: the very likely possibility that you will paint the walls of your new apartment in startlingly ugly colors because you are drawn to these colors in life and in clothing and you don’t understand that they will look bad on walls, the pathetic nature of your Twitter feed, whether or not there will be any more judicial threats to the future of affordable health care in America (Roberts, you surprised me!), and the fact that you haven’t blogged in a while.

    Sounds like insomnia, doesn’t it?  So I guess it’s also an excuse to write a short blog post.  Sorry to those of you I emailed at 4 am.

    What have I been up to?

    Well, I went on a short upstate New York book tour (see photos) to Buffalo Street Books in Ithaca, New York, Off the Beaten Path in Jamestown, New York and the James Prendergast Library, also in Jamestown.  I went with my wonderful friend Madeleine George, playwright and author of the YAs Looks and The Difference Between You and Me.  Matt and Malka came too.  Our car broke down a lot (twice in one week actually and as I type this it’s newly broken down).   I got to see a lot of old friends and that was my favorite part.  My childhood friend Doris Malarkey came to see me at the library and had plenty of smart things to say about stalking and Facebook.  The backs of our houses faced each other and we used to signal to each other using our porch lights.  Two long blinks meant, I made it home through my fear of the yard at night!!  One short blink meant, Do you want to come over?  I learned how babies are made at Doris’ house and her family let me eat anything I wanted.  She also had the biggest board game collection of anyone I knew.  My first love’s parents came to the library too, Jeffrey and Michele Victor!!  I think I screamed a little when they walked in from the shock of seeing them.  They used to rattle the door of their son’s bedroom while we were making out in there, you know, just to make it more fun.  My grandma, Marilyn Spear, came to see me at Off the Beaten Path.  My mom went to everything (thanks Mom!).  My step-mom came.  I met a dear man named Gary who told me about some of the books he’d like to write, but can’t because his wife thinks they are stupid.  Go Gary!  I saw my friend Sandra Chu from graduate school and met her little daughter Pace, who is now four.  Pace spent the reading quietly coloring.  Impressive.  An excited man in Ithaca asked me, “What would stalking look like in 1950?”  Of course, I made some shit up.  I saw Bill Martin, Catherine Taylor, and Stephen Cope.  I talked so much about Prometheus to Catherine’s son, Emrys, that I think he decided not to see it.  Spoiler alert:  You will not recover from the robot machine stomach surgery scene.  I’m sorry, but you won’t.  This is extra true if you have a uterus.  My mom’s friends Freda, Judy, and Sylvia came to say hello.  Finally, and best of all, actual teenage readers came to hear me read from the book (there was even a teenage boy at the library event).  Yay!!!  Fun!!!

     

     

     

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  8. What the Rock Gods are Teaching Me

    June 1, 2012 by Carley

    I dedicate this post to my dad, one of the first rock gods.

    So I am starting to work on a book for adults.  I guess they’re called novels.  I keep calling it an “adult novel,” (so as to somehow distinguish it from my young adult work) which leads folks to believe that I am out to write the next 50 Shades of Gray.   Maybe I should just do that.

    Anyhow, for this new book, I will attempt to write some chapters in the voice of a man, that is, I will attempt to create a fictional male character.  I find this daunting and exciting! I have never done such a thing before.  Remember, I started out as a poet and I write a lot of autobiographical stuff and well, it has really never occurred to me or even seemed necessary for me to try to write a man.  Aren’t there enough men out there already who won’t shut the hell up?  (Oops, that last sentence just slipped out).  Why should I pretend to be a man and create yet another one of those guys?  But seriously, I like the idea of a woman writing in a man’s voice, and I’m told that this is what the fiction writers do–they create characters that are not them.  Shocking.

    Anywho, in preparation for making this guy, who is a middle-aged musician, and loosely based on someone I used to know, I am reading some rock and roll autobiographies.  I began with Keith Richard’s Life and pretty much devoured it.  Everyone loves this book, but now I see why.  First of all, there is no one out there like Keith Richards.  He has done stuff (drugs, women, music, court appearances, villas, speedboats, Mick, Anita, side bands,) that most of us will never even get a chance to think about.  Also, most of these things and people should have killed him.  He should be dead, about 40 times over, but he’s not.  He’s still rocking out and looking terrible and feeling pretty awesome about it. (more…)

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  9. Girls and Mothers

    May 6, 2012 by Carley

    Are You My Mother? A Comic Drama

    The semester is coming to a close–just 47 essays to read and grade, and then it’s over!  YAAAAAYYYY!  But what this really means is that I’m reading again, and I have a little more head space to actually think about what I’ve read.  Here’s a round-up and some very impressionistic thoughts about three books and one tv show:

    Last week, I finished the last chapter of Alison Bechdel’s new graphic memoir/essay, Are You My Mother? A Comic Drama, on the F train and then promptly burst into tears of gratitude and amazement.  I cry a lot of the F train, so that’s not such a big deal.  But this book got to me on so many levels.  It made me think about my own relationship with my mother, it made me wonder how I’m doing as a mother, and it helped me wrap my head around a lot of stuff I sometimes don’t have the language to talk about, like mom-guilt, D.W. Winnicott (the genius god of child therapy who coined the term, the “good-enough mother”) and therapy, like what is the deal with transference anyway??  Are You My Mother? borrows its title from the Dr. Suess book of the same name about a little bird who loses his mother and walks around asking all kinds of animals and machines if she is his mother (Malka and I read this almost every night–it’s a poignant and slightly terrifying tale stripped down to its Freudian core (Where the hell is my mother!) that, mercifully ends with baby and mother reunited in the nest.  In her book, Bechdel tries to figure out why she negates herself in the presence of her mother and what kind of mothering her mother was able to provide her, in spite of her closeted bisexual father, who she wrote about in her first book, Fun Home.  She also explores her own guilt around exposing her family for her art, and wonders if her homosexuality is her truest act of rebellion against being her mother’s mirror.  Much of the book is set in various therapists’ offices. As in Fun Home,  she pairs her beautiful drawings and watercolor washes with layers of text (her own writing, Adrienne Rich’s, Virginia Woolf’s, and D.W. Winnicott’s).  Lastly, the book is a seedbed of inspiration.  Reading it, gave me an idea for an entire collection of poems, new language that I excitedly brought to my own therapist, and several dreams I still need to figure out.

    I also just finished Girls to the Front: The True Story of the Riot Grrrl Revolution by Sara Marcus.  Marcus does an amazing job piecing together the history of a subculture through interviews, zines, and gossip.  Best of all, she captures the excitement of the movement, the ways in which it got commodified for mass consumption, and the many young women who worked alone and together to make music, writing, and conferences.  I went to a Bikini Kill concert in London with a straight male friend while I was studying abroad in Spain during my junior year, and I’ll never forgot how pissed off he was that only girls could stand in the front of the venue and the fight we had about it afterwards.

    Right now I’m reading The Miseducation of Cameron Post, a young adult novel by Emily Danforth, which is about a girl who loses her parents in a car crash and falls in love with another girl during one sticky Montana summer.  I read with Emily at the NYC Teen Author Festival, and I was impressed by her voice and confidence.  I’m only about fifty pages in, but so far, it’s great.

    I’m also watching Girls, Lena Dunham’s new show on HBO.  I actually broke my cheapskate vow to never pay for HBO, so that I could watch it.  I know everyone is complaining about it (too white, too rich, too entitled), but it’s a truly funny show.  Have you ever seen a half an hour show devoted to an HPV diagnosis?  I mean, that shit was hilarious, and really that’s kind of a miracle because there’s nothing funny about HPV.  Also, who else sets part of an episode in a Planned Parenthood waiting room, and makes that a joke too?  I like Lena Dunham’s characters.  I liked them in Tiny Furniture and I like them in Girls.  She writes embarrassment, screw-ups, and humiliation so well.  She is intelligent and ambitious, but she’s stupid for the wrong guy, one with an amazing body who lies to her and texts her sporadically, but who is irresistible to be around.  And don’t even get me started on the truly cosmic joy I feel at watching her beautiful, normal body move across the screen!  But if you’re still mad about the too white, too rich, too entitled situation, check out what Hilton Als had to say in The New Yorker–he’s way smarter than me. Be mad at HBO and television in general, but not Dunham.

    And now to catch up on old HBO shows on demand.  I still can’t really handle Eric with amnesia.  Fangless, right?  Too sweet.  I’m bored.

     

     

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  10. On the Teen Author Book Festival, Non-Gender Specific Covers, and Feminism

    April 8, 2012 by Carley

    So I want to do a little round-up of my time as a participant in the NYC Teen Author Book Festival.  I was honored to have been included in the “New Voices” Panel and the Books of Wonder signing!  Thanks to David Levithan for his amazing organizational skills, planning, and vision.  I didn’t get to go to everything, but I went to a couple of panels and met a lot of writers and a couple of new fans.  Yay!

    Madeleine George, Ellen Hopkins, David Levithan, Jennifer Smith, and John Corey Whaley read from their new books at McNally Jackson bookstore at the beginning of the festival.  The bookstore was packed!  There were a couple of confused people there for Patti Smith, but no matter, the main vibe in the room was excitement and delight.

    I caught the second half of the panel on “Being Friends with Boys” with Elizabeth Eulberg, Jenny Han, Terra Elan McVoy, and Stephanie Perkins and got some great ideas about how to create novelistic tension around boy-girl friendships that transform into romance.

    I was especially intrigued and excited by the conversation among the panelists for “No Ordinary Love: How to Create a Satisfying Love Story and a Satisfying Supernatural World at the Same Time.”  Andrea Cremer, Melissa de la Cruz, Jeri Smith-Ready, Victoria Schwab, and Margaret Stohl had a great conversation about how book covers gender our readers, often keep us from getting boy readers, or even make boy feel like they have to keep their love of our books secret.  As I type this, I want to remind everyone that the cover of my book is bright pink, and although I do love my cover, I think it sends out a very clear message, like, “This book is pretty much only for girls.”  What if “women’s fiction”  or more fiction written by women had less gender-specific covers?  Here’s what novelist Meg Wolitzer had to say about it in The NY Times last week, in her awesome article, “The Second Shelf: On the Rules of Literary Fiction for Men and Women.”  And in case you haven’t looked at them yet, here are this year’s VIDA stats about women and publishing for 2011. Sobering as usual, but important to know about.

    I know it’s different in Young Adult Fiction and Children’s Publishing where women rule and are hugely successful.  But I still like thinking about the ways in which gender plays out in all areas of publishing.  I also wonder what happens to young adult writers who move into adult writing?

    Lastly, I had so much fun listening to my fellow authors on the “New Voice Spotlight”–Emily Danforth, Kate Ellison, Lucas Klauss, and Alecia Whitaker.  Such great writers and so inspiring!  I’m glad I read the scary Cammie garbage scene from The Stalker Chronicles and these guys inspired me to do it.

    Oh, and thanks to PG Kain and Andy Marino for keeping me company during the Books of Wonder signing.

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