A Subtropical Interlude
Plus upcoming things you shouldn't miss, and a special surprise at the very end of this very long dispatch.
Things have been busy around here, and it’s possible you’ve been wondering where my usual longwinded epistles have been. After all, there must be another installment of What The Universe Is: A (Virtual) Reading Series, right?
The short answer is Yes, and you should register right now at bit.ly/WTUIOct2024.
The longer answer is that Sarah Audsley and Rita Mookerjee are dynamic poets and I’m incredibly excited to host them in October, and I want you to be there to experience their poems. Also, there wasn’t a WTUI for September, in part because I’ve been just too overbooked with other stuff.
But if you just can’t go a single month without seeing me host a Zoom reading, I encourage you to register for the Emily Dickinson Museum’s Phosphorescence reading for September, which coincides with the Tell It Slant Poetry Festival, as I’ll be hosting Diane Seuss, Jane Huffman, and Molly Akin on behalf of the Museum. (How did I get to be so lucky?)
Later, in October, you (yes, you, the beautiful and brilliant human being reading this likely-already-too-long missive) will have the opportunity to take a workshop with me that is focused on THE IMAGE. Poets use images all the time, but any writer’s work can benefit from the inclusion of strong, striking, and sensory-based bits of language. If this is something you’re interested in doing from 1-3pm on Sunday, October 13, register at the link here. It’s all on Zoom, and it’s going to be fun!
Now on to the promsed subtropical interlude:
Until two weeks ago, the last time I’d set foot in the state of Florida was in 1986. The occasion for that visit was my mother’s parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, which they decided to celebrate at Disney World. This decision was made, I suspect, in order to appeal to their grandchildren — I was one of seven total in that succeeding generation, and was, at age 11, the third-oldest among the group. I was ambivalent about Disney World, and while I had high hopes for EPCOT, it felt insubstantial to me, even then. I do remember having the sense that I wasn’t experiencing the real Florida, that the sheer volume of plastic and artifice that comprised the Disney ecosystem was constructed on top of something wild, something layered and unpredictable. I had vague memories of an earlier visit to Florida, when I was much, much younger, when we stayed with a friend of my mother’s who lived in Orlando. This would’ve been around 1980, before Disney was quite the thing it became, and what made the biggest impression on me then was the innumerable tiny lizards that scattered and scampered across the walkway any time we opened the door to go outside.
Until two weeks ago, I had never been to Jacksonville, Florida. Known worldwide as the seat of Duval County, the home of the Jacksonville Jaguars NFL franchise, and the butt of innumerable jokes on The Good Place, it is also where my beloved friend Hurley Winkler (the person behind Lonely Victories) was born and raised, and where she remains living with her wonderful husband Alex and their perfect angel of a dog, Susan.
The official reason I went to Jacksonville was because Hurley was launching her zine, 100 Swims, and I wanted to be there to celebrate this with her. It’s probably pretty clear by now that I love when my friends experience any kind of success and that I truly enjoy being there to cheer them on. Unofficially, I was way overdue for visiting this seaside city that shaped one of my favorite people; she’s come north far more than I’ve gone south in the nearly 10 years since we met in grad school. Besides, I love exploring scrappy underdog cities, places that haven’t had their distinctive souls replaced by the sort of plastic artifice that Disney pioneered.
I’m happy to report that Jacksonville is definitely one of those cities. Sure, there are a lot of chain restaurants and highways, but Spokane and Kansas City and Providence all have those, too; that’s an inescapable cost of being in America, and I know it’s fashionable to rail against it, to talk about capitalism and suburban sprawl and the negative effects of highway construction on the population who lived in the urban cores that were displaced by the paving of America. I understand that, and I see the disruptions and the proliferation of cheap bad nutrition that is having significant effects on the health of America’s population.
But I also recognize those things as peculiarly American manifestations, and despite the corporate attempts at sameness (or, I suppose, what they might characterize as “consistency”), each city still manages to incorporate them into its fabric differently. In Jacksonville they’re threaded throughout, with the effect of somehow fading into the background while other establishments are foregrounded. This might have something to do with the overall architecture in the area; in my usual environs, a Dunkin’ or a Taco Bell set into a small sea of asphalt will stand out amidst the older buildings that flank it, while in Jacksonville, a building not festooned with neon and focus-grouped color schemes will catch the eye. My eye, at least.
Even amidst all of these American manifestations, though, there were abundant independent and non-corporate local options; the closest I got to a chain was a brief encounter with Publix in order to buy ice to keep the beverages cool at Hurley’s zine launch. (We needed a lot of ice. Jacksonville was hot and humid. Even the wind coming off the ocean was warm; this confused my New England-raised sensibilities.)
Beyond the built and natural environment, though, what I really loved about Jacksonville was having the chance to see Hurley in her element.
I couldn’t have been happier to be at the launch, which was held at Makenu Chocolates & Cafe, one of Hurley’s local haunts. It was a packed house, which meant I was able to meet scores of people from all across Hurley’s life, and I really enjoyed having the chance to connect with some of Jacksonville’s finest and most creative folks, as well as members of her extended family. Hurley had asked me if I’d introduce her for her reading, and I was honored to do so, but I also quipped that the only people I knew in the room were her and Alex, so I would in effect be a complete stranger introducing her to people who already knew her. Hearing Hurley read from 100 Swims was delightful, but the real highlight for me was watching her being surrounded by enthusiastic admirers telling her how wonderful her work is. (And it is! You should seriously consider ordering a copy for yourself.) I did end up connecting with a number of Hurley’s friends after the reading; she knows some incredibly cool people — and now I know them, too.
After we helped clean up and close down Makenu (well, we left the actual cleaning to the professionals who work there; we just got Hurley’s stuff out of their way), Hurley and I ventured across the ditch (Jacksonville slang for “the intercoastal waterway”) to Jack Rabbit’s, a rock club that put me in mind of the venues I haunted in my 20s (and, to a lesser extent, in my 30s) to see Pylon Reenactment Society, fronted by the legendary Vanessa Briscoe Hay.
Hanging out with Hurley in Jacksonville meant running into people she knew everywhere we went, including her first writing teacher at the Pylon show. I was able to just stand back and enjoy the two of them catching up and enthusing about each other’s work — writers have a reputation for being competitive, but I truly haven’t encountered much of that at all, and I certainly didn’t see it happening that night.
The following day was spent hanging out and goofing off and eating and then hanging out with Hurley and Alex’s friends Bill and Katie, who I’d been able to chat with a lot at the reading. I should mention here that all of the food I had during my time in Duval County was phenomenal, and Bill and Katie are exceptional gourmands in addition to being really wonderful people who have two really sweet and affectionate dogs. I can’t wait to get back down to hang out with them again, too.
My flight home on Monday was in the evening (which, as an aside, is something to which I’m still not yet accustomed; when you’re a non-rev passenger flying standby, you get to the airport as early as possible so you have as many chances to get out as possible. Old habits die very, very hard.) This meant Hurley and I had the chance to start collaborating on a song.
Eventually, though, the time came for me to return home, to lift out of the incredible beauty and humidity of Jacksonville, to bid farewell to some of my favorite people (and dogs). I’m already planning my next trip down to Jacksonville; I have more to do there, more people to see there.
Thanks for reading this far into this long, garrolous post. I promised you a special surprise here at the end, so to reward your patience, here’s an interview I did with Ellen, Riley, and Jon of Poet Talk on WMUA 91.1. It was a great experience, and if you enjoyed the conversation I had with them, dig into the archives and you’ll be able to hear some of my other favorite local poets, like Jen Jabaily-Blackburn, Nathan McClain, Heather Treseler, Ide Thompson, and Amy Dryansky. This show is a fantastic addition to the Valley poetry scene.
What a lovely friendship to read about! Not to mention learn more about my new writing mentor, Hurley. Her summer writing sessions helped me restart my own writing path. I'm glad she has such good friends like you, Michael, showing up for her.
Thank you for visiting the Bold New City of the South! What a gift to see my hometown through your eyes. Scrappy underdog cities forever 💘