Mrs. Wight (2nd grade teacher) has given me the green light to do poetry workshop in a couple of weeks. I fooled her into thinking I knew what I was doing so now I have to come through. I AM fairly attuned to the 2nd grade literary sensibility, though. I just read the first of the Series of Unfortunate Events. In a perfect set up right out of Derrida on speech acts (his back-and-forth with Searle about Austin's definition of real and "parasitic" performatives), Count Olaf tries to marry 14-year old heiress Violet Baudelaire by having her perform in a play, with a real judge playing the part of the judge who marries them on stage. Violet thwarts the plan by signing the marriage document with her left hand. Sorry if I gave away the ending to anyone!

I had better order a copy of Wishes, Lies, and Dreams.

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"Cahiers de Corey" posted a Raymond Carver poem on his blog as an example of poetry he used to think was good. It's not all that bad--if read as a parody of James Wright. The odd thing is that Carver is influential in Spain as a precursor of "el realismo sucio" in fiction and poetry. Why do certain writers travel so well? Bukowski would be another example. Carver can't avoid a cliché like "steaming cups of coffee."

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I'm going to the new Almodóvar movie this evening, which I can define as "work."