The Next Big Thing

What is the working title of the book?

It is called CONFITEOR, a 1,000 page project in ten volumes, three trilogies and one more (for a total of ten).  I feel so very metric.  DaDaDa (2003) consists of Reading Fundamentals, Heresy, and Legendary.  OOD:  Object-Oriented Design (unpublished) consists of Queen of the Sciences, Obj. x, and Eidolon.  Dia (in process), currently consists of (not necessarily in this order), All the Angels & Saints, Trouvee, and perhaps Dark Night.  The fourth volume is Addendum.  

There's also a distaff trilogy.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatæ Mariæ semper Virgini, beato Michaeli Archangelo, beato Ioanni Baptistæ, sanctis Apostolis Petro et Paulo, omnibus Sanctis, et vobis, fratres: quiapeccavi nimis cogitatione, verbo et opere: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Ideo precor beatam Mariam semper Virginem, beatum Michaelem Archangelum, beatum Ioannem Baptistam, sanctos Apostolos Petrum et Paulum, omnes Sanctos, et vos, fratres, orare pro me ad Dominum Deum nostrum.

I confess to almighty God
and to you, my brothers and sisters,
that I have greatly sinned,
in my thoughts and in my words,
in what I have done and in what I have failed to do,
through my fault, through my fault,
through my most grievous fault;
therefore I ask blessed Mary ever-Virgin,
all the Angels and Saints,
and you, my brothers and sisters,
to pray for me to the Lord our God.

What genre does your book fall under?


What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

Da3:  Sissy Spacek.  Clips of important female interior designers, queens of the Bs, and a James Joyce cameo.

OOD:  Montage of the star girls.  Ginger Rogers and Grace Slick.  If Adeena Karasick and I re-inact my identity theft (stolen money spent on Fifth Avenue), is that tax-deductible?  

Dia:  Catherine Deneuve, Katherine Heigl (All the Angels & Saints are catherines, stealing a note from bp nichol); Fiona Apple, Ani DeFranco, Joan Jett, Marianne Faithfull, Joan Baez (trouvee is troubaritz); Jewel (ok, I would like Jewel to do my version of St. John's Dark Night of the Soul).  

Addendum:  Not sure.  Maybe Justin Bieber.  

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

There's not a synopsis in one sentence, but there's a log line:  

Sex! Algebra! Music!  By turns poignant and laugh-out-loud funny, CONFITEOR is wild, confusing, and true.  

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

Da3 took me about five years; OOD, the same, but I tweak it since it hasn't been published in book form.  

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Chris Hamilton-Emery, John Kinsella, female "creatives" <<

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Dear reader:  maybe sex, drugs, and rock isn't enough.  Maybe all womens writing from all places/times through a lens of 20th century art movements bores you.  Maybe you don't care about LINUX, boolean algebra, philosophy, revolutions... and maybe you don't need advice on decorating your house or curating your art collection.  Do you have roses to hoe?  Do your green rashes thrive, O?   

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I have a considered relationship with publishers who are as DIY as I am.  Agency?  I am the agent.  To belabor that, I have agency, particularly in my work.  CAA didn't hire me....  

Make up a question you think is pressing in way of poetry today.
Is it beautiful?

Tagged thus far:  

Maryrose Larkin
http://maryroselarkin.blogspot.com/  coming soon!

Warm Storage – Christine Kennedy’s studio blog

Larkin Higgins (coming soon!)

Todd Baron :

Anna Lena Phillips


Palmetto Bugs

My sister lived in a great off-campus apartment (wood burning fireplace!) off Bowery on Elizabeth Street, around the corner from CBGB and The Knitting Factory.  It was above the bakery for Frank Sinatra's favorite restaurant in Little Italy.    I was staying there, probably because my apartment (see Rat Stories) didn't have heat.

OK, it was above a bakery.  Pro:  come back from a show in the middle of the night, ask for a loaf of bread still hot from the ovens.  Con:  unusually large roaches.  In Florida, these are termed "Palmetto Bugs" to distinguish them from less supersized roaches.

My sister and her roommate are safe in their beds, and I am on the comfy couch, when the nocturnal Palmetto Bug festivities begin.  I know where the roach spray is (under the sink in the kitchen).   My wisely frugal sister has purchased generic roach spray.  I am very near-sighted, and can't really see much without glasses or contact lenses.  I had been sleeping...  the roaches are so large, I can see them.  I go to the kitchen, get a can, and start stalking the roaches.  And I spray and spray each one.  I soak the roaches with spray; only one or two die, out of nine, before I give up.

Come to find out, I had been spraying them with silver polish from an identical can, and hadn't been able to read the label.  #JoyceDaly also needs a feed... why would college students possess silver polish?  Children of Joyce Daly need silver polish when they are in college & in fact, at all times.


I have my Manhattan miracle apartment one summer, courtesy of my friend Katherine.  I pay for one room, but it is a prewar three bedroom apartment on the top floor in an elevator building, and otherwise vacant.  Much Q partying on the roof.

K's room backs up to the newly-renovated kitchen.  At the end of the sublet, I'm cleaning, and I realize that I have seen a small roach in the bedroom I used (in these days, it was customary to set off roach bombs in the kitchen every morning before leaving for work, which I did do).  I lifted up the mattress, and saw hundreds of them.  Yeah, the nest was under the bed.


Rat Stories

My rat stories begin in Fourth? grade, when each person in the class was asked to write an essay on the animal one would most like to eradicate, and the environmental impacts of eliminating that animal.

Everybody else chose the mosquito.  [And. in high school, several of these friends worked for skeet abatement... more mosquitoes later.]

I chose the rat.  I had some help from #TomDaly.  << ok, Tom Daly doesn't have a hashtag yet, but he needs one.  Rats live in the lake, that's why we don't live there; rats live in trees... Have you heard about the Plague?  Look it up in the encyclopedia for your report.  All those people in the Monty Python "Bring Out Your Dead" sketch?  Plague.  Rats.

I continued my rat-free, but rat-aware, life through graduate school.  The Greybar building (NYC) awnings are supported by custom-made wrought iron depicting rats embarking.  Maybe to catch MetroNorth to New England, I no longer remember.

Then I found a wool carpet on the street.  I needed a carpet.  I hauled it to the roof of my building, and cleaned it.  Really, rented a machine, scrubbed and scrubbed.  There was a mouse-sized rat who managed to stay in the carpet, and magically transported to my apartment.  From this experience, I learned the smell of rat urine.  After that time, and until this day, I can walk around and say, "there are rats here."  Even if there are no fleas. Anyway, I rolled the tiny rat into the carpet, and dumped it back on the curb.

Later on, I was in the subway with my friend Michelle.  I was showing her the rats that ran along the third rail when the train was coming.  Then a big rat from a trash can charged us.  I might have left an important new purchase of Folkways LPs at the station then (maybe later).

After school, I had an apartment in NYC with mice and rats (mostly mice) -- ended up pulling a mattress onto the top of my dining room table (that's the way I roll -- crap apartment, Danish modern teak dining room table with leaves and a fifth leg that can host a twin mattress) and surrounding it with traps and boric acid, listening to the traps snap all night... young women like myself would tour the apartment, which #TomDaly had helped me fix (ceiling fan! window seat! wiring! paint and plaster!); I stripped the paint from the Victorian mantlepiece!  I leveled the bathroom floor!), and the nice ones I took aside, said, "look at the traps."

My husband and I moved to a nice house in a big city.  Some of our favorite times were hanging out on the porch after dark.  We're sitting there, and some small animals are running across the power lines, at our property line.  He correctly observes, "those are not the squirrels eating our new trees."

After that, the next nice house did have some rats in the ivy and in the basements until our vigilant attention forced the rats into retreat, or at least to someplace we didn't see or smell them.

It was then that I got a temporary teaching job, and rented another house, through the aegis of friends, that would have cost a million dollars or more in Los Angeles (really), but that the ladylady refused to seal (I know the sounds and smells of rats; I can do "palmetto bugs" -- different story).  A big rat -- about eight inches w/o tail -- I was doing dishes -- scampered across the counter -- the convenience of the oar was that I could then bear poor animal to garbage can on the oar without touching it after murdering it.

Guy across the street had a truck that advertised his pest control business... I knocked on the door late (well, after dinner -- 9 pm?) and just begged for his help after the oar incident.

but my fave "shaggy rat story" is from my friend Stan -- he corralled the animal into his bathtub, thinking to drown it (yell out at this point in Stan's story, "rats SWIM!") ; so the rat is swimming, and he's trying to poison it with his girlfriend's bath beads...