the mysterious creative process

Egg
Originally uploaded by michael689.

Last night was an intimate yet successful gathering for Eric Maisel and I came away with three important concepts that I can immediately apply to my writing life:

1) to get unblocked and to start thinking creatively, break an egg. I did that this morning even before my first cup of coffee and although there must be all sorts of symbolism to this act, what I found was that I kept picturing that gooey egg as I worked on my rewrite project.

2) write first thing in the morning ~ I usually do, but I read and answer emails and sometimes I think that my friends get my best work, which is OK if I have unlimited time, which I don't.

3) fall in love AGAIN with whatever I'm working on. Something inspired me originally and I need to reconnect with that. This helps overcome all that negative self-chatter (I'm too tired, I have no talent, I'm not really a writer, I hate rewriting, etc.) and that also seemed to work for me this morning.

And now I need to send the piece out. 538 words that I'm relatively satisfied with, thanks fo my writing group and Eric.

sunny morning at the sundance

new 24th st. cafe
Originally uploaded by the omster.

Yes, I recommend the Sundance coffee shoppe ~ I sat outside in the sun here yesterday and read a short story entitled "Bear Meat" by Primo Levi (Italian, you know). This was stunningly beautiful in its simplicity and I started having DEEP THOUGHTS about things that make us stronger in life and I feel an essay bubbling somewhere inside my itty bitty brain. When I write it, my dear writing group friends will say, "more details", "expand this thought", "give us some examples" and "get rid of this last line or paragraph..."

Closing the store was a snap and I didn't hiss or fume once. Tonight is the Eric Maisel event at 7pm.

Back to the Sundance ~ note water dish for Livvy B. and I was impressed with the friendly baristas but because I am a business woman, I worried that their payroll was too high for the amount of customers on a quiet Monday morning. Plus, the place lacks Writing Salon publicity items which I trust will not be the case next time I visit.

may I be the first? and the last?

to correct this morning's headline ~ make that:

SLEIGHT OF HAND

...I was testing you. You failed.

a slight of hand in vienna

the illusionist
Originally uploaded by the omster.

Can Edward Norton do anything wrong? We both enjoyed this movie last night (from the Flix®) and even though I need to think about it a little more, and perhaps discuss it with The Doctor tonight at work (part of my job), suffice it to say that this is well worth seeing.

Tonight I close the store and will do a better job than I did before. The first time doing anything there is always a little snarly for me because of the constant interruptions from customers and other little surprises. Plus it's a mess and I like neat and organized, at least on the surface.

This morning I will walk the nabe and visit a new coffee shop (just what this city needs!) up on 24th and Harrison.

my parallel universe

The neighbors next door are still up, sitting under one of
those big portable heaters talking quietly and maybe
finishing the last of the brandy. Their upper deck features
the same spectacular view as you see in commano about
once a week and they have strung little white lights all
around the railing. They are probably in their 20's and
love is still probably very new because we don't hear any
raised voices or slamming doors as we have from other
young neighbors in the past.

I like listening to the Len Tillum show on KGO. He is an
outspoken lawyer and I swear to god that half of the issues
from callers have to do with problems people have with
their neighbors. We have always lucked out in this respect.
The houses are so close to each other in this crowded city,
and we read horror stories of the lunatic-next-door, yet our
neighbors have always been decent and respectful. There
was one busy drug dealer once, but that was long ago.....

next Tuesday night!

Jan. 30th event
Originally uploaded by the omster.

I was carefully taught to be responsible for the entire world, so of course I'm already fretting about this event that I instigated for next week. If you are a writer, or know some of those creatures, I think you/they will enjoy meeting Eric. Many thanks to the Salon Mistress for sending out an email to her many students and fans.

Tuesday, Jan. 30th
7pm
Borders Union Square
Post & Powell
4th Floor
(415) 399-1633

Be there or my Wednesday post will be filled with misery. Thank you.

from the sublime to the ridiculous

pagoda stow lake
Originally uploaded by the omster.

Yesterday Neti and I walked Stow Lake twice while we solved most of the problems of this world. Then we went to the Mandalay Restaurant out on California (near 7th Ave.) ~ my first Burmese food which tasted suspiciously like Thai. But good.

Returned to the big box retail store to wade through 118 new emails (sheesh, I hadn't finished answering the ones from last Sunday). Here, in a nutshell, is the subject matter:
.vertical transportation issues (escalators worse than elevator)
.3 missing trash cans ~ the homeless wheel our recycle cans/bottles away
.disciplinary issues ~ ncns=no call, no show & a written warning
.scam artists galore...how come they always win?
.plumbing problems
.new policy for PT people ~ paid sick days (yeah San Francisco!)
.and a few even more tedious issues that I won't bore you with

Light rain today and I enjoyed the misty walk home from BART after work.

not quite 900 pages

...but I am certainly enjoying Sacred Games because it is
so incredibly interesting to read about a policeman's life
in India. I also just finished Monkey Hill, a long short story
in a December New Yorker written by Paul Theroux whom
I have long admired. Dig out your old unread magazines
because this is an excellent piece. It's about a wealthy
American couple visiting an exclusive resort in a small
town in India. Neither can be called heroic, if you get my drift.

And yesterday I had to call the AOL help line, so you can
see that I have an Indian theme to start today's post.

Last night we had dinner at this relatively new restaurant
on Church Street. Husbando had pasta and clams and I
enjoyed the steelhead trout. It was packed and a little
noisy, but we yelled at each other and returned home in
time to watch the 8pm Jon Stewart rerun.
"Pescheria - San Francisco Restaurant & Menu Guide"

BTW (Back to Work) tomorrow. I can do it. 6am start.

just a bit more walk talk

When I wrote yesterday, I didn't really think clearly about my favorite walk spots...all I thought about were the happy memories. As a result I forgot two from Santa Barbara ~ that beach across from my friend Ginger's home in Summerland
(where Kevin Costner lives) and also the long East Beach walk down in the main part of town. I also neglected Ginger's cowboy moutain walk in Manhattan, Kansas. The Lands End walk is spectacular, but doesn't feel safe for solo walking to me (thanks to the Chronicle and to Armistead Maupin) and Bernal Hill is impossible to walk now because the ghost of Sidney (our Jewish Irish Setter) still romps there and it doesn't seem right to hike there without him.

We have always rented homes with fireplaces up at Sea Ranch. Heaven. So quiet and peaceful that you won't want to turn on a tv to spoil the mood. Unless it's the World Series or an important Giants game, that is.

Dinner at The Front Porch was:
3 fried chickens
1 burger (me)
1 veggie stew
1 crab and porridge (TGP)
Really fine service too, warm and friendly.

To clear up future confusion, I might be the only woman in the world with two close friends named Ginger. Both are walkers
and we have already established the fact that I am more than lucky in friendship.

Now off to the Pesheria for some fish food. I'll review it quickly tomorrow.

from monday morning

mornings @ 7
Originally uploaded by the omster.

Who could grow tired of this ever-changing view from our back room? The fact that this is our "summer room" and lacks insulation (translate ~ it's way below 30º here most days and nights) only adds to our appreciation and the at least twice daily, "oh, come look now!" calls between Husbando and myself.

Thanks for all the walk comments. I'm constructing another little graph on the subject for this afternoon. Off to yoga...

walk, breathe, remember

This morning's walk at Crissy Field was such a fine tonic
after eating too much at the delightful Front Porch
b.day dinner last night. A good time was had by all!

Here is a list of my favorite walking places, in order:

1) Crissy Field ~ sea air, boats, dogs, GG Bridge
2) Monterey to Pacific Grove ~ right on the ocean
3) Bluffs at Mendocino ~ begin or end walking around
the homes and inhaling the fireplace aromas
4) Sea Ranch ~ note the deer on land, sea lions in ocean
5) Ashland, Oregon ~ only walk without water!
6) Erie Canal in Pennsylvania ~ picnic along the way
7) Central Park in NYC
8) Stow Lake in GG Park
9) Ocean Beach ~ this might be #5, too lazy to switch
10) Millennium Bridge (London) to/fro the Tate Modern

Finally met with L & L today to see photos of Italy ~
shots of buildings, cemeteries, rivers, canals, churches
and the glory that was Pompeii. I love that they included
their hotel rooms, I'll do that too. The toddler girl colored
quietly and intently and then introduced me to her 3
companions: Lilly, Rosie and Lambie. (Lamby?) I was
immensely pleased to learn that there are internet cafes
all over Italy and I am not to worry.

Discussion with Husbando about avoiding Bush tonight.
Tempting, no?

day one ~ fireplace & poetry

Today I will have a quiet morning with msBook in front of
the fire and tomorrow I will walk Crissy Field in the morning.
I owe a bunch of emails to people and I want to read the
Chandra book between walks and naps. Tonight we are
gathering with friends that we have known for decades
(Neti and Frank) and our relatively new friends (The Great
Plotniks) to celebrate the b.day of Husbando yesterday.
All 4 of his children actually called the same day (!) and
he did three loads of laundry while I heard about that magic
dragon from Mr. Chong at the big box retail store.

I brought home a poetry book because of this one poem,
but Jane Hirshfield's After is filled with perfectly polished
little gems to help us understand our lives. Enjoy.

To Wake At 3:00

To wake at 3:00
and not want to go back to sleep
is different
from waking and wanting
not to go back to sleep.

Thoughts
come to the mind,
predictable almost as breath.
The days small errors and failures,
Wrong words that were said,
right ones that were not.

Outside the window
a truck, with yellow lights
running the length of its body
and R&L Cargo lettered large down its side,
diesels the street inexplicably backward.

Making its own deliveries
equally exhausted, from some great distance.
Jane Hirshfield

(I have learned that if I retype a poem it means even
more to me and sometimes quite differently than it did
originally ~ do you find this? Am I making any sense?)

of puffs and bongs

chong book
Originally uploaded by the omster.

First I want to say that I am NOT responsible for the choice of ads from Google. Ever since I put the church photo in the blog it looks like some Christian propaganda machine. It is not easy to remain an agnostic in this life, so my reward should not be a bunch of Jesus ads.

Tommy Chong spoke to a good size crowd in our store today. He looked far, far better in his black tee shirt than he does here on the cover of his book. I liked him! He spoke of the simple things that appeal to me at this stage of life. How he learned to appreciate being able to open a door himself and walk outside after being in prison. How cigarettes and alcohol kill more people than pot does. Then a bit about karma that I had thought about before. For instance, ever since the greedy oil companies had their summer of high profits, more and more people are buying hybrids and small gas-efficient cars. I certainly wasn't expecting to be impressed by Tommy Chong, but I was.

Now my 4 in a row days off vacationette begins. Rejoice (but no more religious ads, puleeeeze.)

oh, so that's a key

Today after work I met Husbando at the exceedingly small
SF Playhouse up on Sutter. I did not have the vaguest idea
where Deb Margolin came up with the title of her play, Three
Seconds In The Key, so now we all know (or guess) that it's
that rectangular sort of painted area on a basketball court.
For some inexplicable reason, the players can't stand
around in there for more than 3 seconds. (I'm not a fan of
basketball.)

Anyway, this is a delight ~ a long one act (hooray!) play about
a mother fighting Hodgkin's Disease, her 8 year old son and
five realistic basketball players! I did well up once or twice
and I give it 3 1/2 Kleenex®. I enjoyed the give and take
between the very Jewish mother and the black sports hero.
The kid was terrific too, he whined like he'd done that before
in his real life.

900 pages in 4 days?

chandra
Originally uploaded by the omster.

My big box retail mortar chain store offers this generous book loan program for employees, so today I brought this huge feast of a mystery novel home for my upcoming mini-vacation. This book has had some fabulous reviews and it took the author 7 years to finish it. I haven't been reading enough lately (except for New Yorker magazines) so this will count for at least two books.

let's focus on bread and words

focaccio bakery
Originally uploaded by the omster.

This is where we buy our foccacia or is it with an "o" there on the end? In any event, I wanted mostly to show the two Chinese men sitting in the front window here, but by the time I screwed around changing batteries, they had probably done their Tai Chi and moved on to lunch plans. There is this distinct smell in North Beach ~ coffee, bread, garlic ~ but you already know this.

Today I have a serious writing project for our Tiapos group tonight. Haven't seen Chef P in ages and I know it will be the usual wonderful time at Mistress Jane's second winter home. I actually have a little bit written for tonight. Of course I am highly dissatisfied with the results, but for me that's par for the course. After 754 rewrites I might even post it here on commano. Maybe.

gazing inward on wednesday

Here from the Dec. 25th New Yorker ~ I'm finally getting
caught up on the important parts of life that I neglected
during the Happy Holiday Retail Season:

A writer is someone who spends years patiently trying to
discover the second being inside him, and the world that
makes him who he is. When I speak of writing, the image
that comes first to my mind is not a novel, a poem, or a
literary tradition; it is the person who shuts himself up in
a room, sits down at a table and, alone, turns inward.

To write is to transform that inward gaze into words...
Orhan Pamuk

the saints be praised

sts. peter & paul
Originally uploaded by the omster.

Yeah, I made it through that first closing! I had a bunch of hard working people and only one minor dust up with a customer. But, heck, I have those during the day time too. It is odd about the folks who come in one minute before 11am and need to search for a very important book. One gentleman popped over from a nearby bar looking for "How to Talk to Women". Ah yes, we are such a mystery.

Can you see the usual 15 or so Chinese elders on the lawn in front of the church here? So graceful. The light this time of year (without rain or grey fog) reminds us of Paris ~ too clear and beautiful to try to describe. Maybe the photo will do a better job than I ever could.

Today I have interviews (cafe and one 6am shelver) and a little desk work. Then I'll get into my zone for an hour or so. It's looking so much better...the genre that is My Zone.

one bay at a time

I have been actively working in the book shelves these past
few days and enjoying it immensely. Mystery is a mess,
but now the A through D bays are finished and I've sent
back some dogs that have been sitting there since May,
taking up valuable space. Every section in our store really
needs daily maintenance, but we certainly don't have the
payroll for that. The problem of course is that when I finish
getting the shelves perfect I want to slap the hands of the
customers who feel it is their right to pull out books and
put them back in the wrong place.

Tonight is my first closing in many years. I don't mind so
much, especially since I have my early morning productive
hours to fuss with the blog (updated yesterday!) and then
Husbando and I are going to North Beach to buy some
foccacio and have coffee at the venerable Cafe Trieste.
Caffe Trieste. I can picture the poetic One Foot now with
a tear in her left eye.

no sweetness or light

human trafficking
Originally uploaded by the omster.

Last night we huddled in front of the fireplace and watched 1/2 of this very difficult movie from the Flix®. I was hooked though after a 14 year old prostitute was found dead and the policeMAN couldn't understand why they were starting younger and younger. This brutal sex slave business goes on right in front of our noses (and other body parts) right here in my beloved city and it is a world wide problem because (surprise) there is so much money to be made.

Now I'm going to update commano. Susan had some "issues" up at The Tonsil War, but she worked her way out of it and so will I. With a little help from my friends, APU (as per usual).