what became of those horses?

A big part of my research for my new series is reading over trial transcripts. I just got the preliminary testimony transcript of Ike Clanton, the only surviving "Cowboy." It really surprised me, for some reason. I've read countless trial transcripts and decisions, even in law school, that were absolutely horrible. Especially in criminal law, of course, they chose the decisions that are the most outrageous to impact law students. For some reason I always read them as stories, and perhaps that's why I'm more suited for creative writing than for law. But this transcript really got to me. I'm including just a portion, so you can see what I mean.

Testimony of Joseph I. "Ike" Clanton
in the Preliminary Hearing in the Earp-Holliday Case,
Heard before Judge Wells Spicer

November 9-15, 1881

Q) Did you or not, at any time during the shooting, see a horse or horses on the ground where the shooting occurred? If so, state who, if anybody had them.

(A) Yes sir, there were two horses there. Frank McLaury was holding a horse; Billy Clanton had a horse also, and standing right by him.

(Q) What became of those horses, while you remained there, as far as you could see?

(A) I never noticed the horses after the shooting commenced.

(Q) Were there or not, any arms on those horses, and if so, what kind were they?

(A) Yes sir, there were arms on them. They were Winchester carbines. There was one on each horse, in the gun scabbards.

(Q) State whether or not those arms were drawn from their scabbards while you stayed there.

(A) No sir, they were not, while I stayed there.

(Q) State if there was any previous difficulty between you and the defendants or either of them; and if yes, when and where?

(A) Yes sir, there was a difficulty between Holliday and Morgan Earp and I, the night before at a lunch stand in this town near the Eagle Brewery Saloon, on the north side of Allen Street. As well as I remember, it was about 1 o'clock in the morning. I went in there to get a lunch. While sitting down at the table, Doc Holliday came in and commenced cursing me and said I was, "A son-of-a-bitch of a cowboy," and told me to get my gun out and get to work. I told him I had no gun. He said I was a damned liar and had threatened the Earps. I told him I had not, to bring whoever said so to me and I would convince him that I had not. He told me again to pull out my gun and if there was any grit in me, to go to fighting. All the time he was talking, he had his hand in his bosom and I supposed on his pistol. I looked behind me and saw Morgan Earp with his feet over the lunch counter. He has his hand in his bosom also, looking at me. I then got up and went out on the sidewalk. Doc Holliday said, as I walked out, "You son-of-a-bitch, if you ain't heeled, go and heel yourself." Just as I stepped out, Morgan Earp stepped up and said, "Yes, you son-of-a-bitch, you can have all the fight you want now!" I thanked him and told him I did not want any of it now, I was not heeled. Virgil Earp stood off about 10 or 15 feet from us on the sidewalk. Just about this time, or perhaps a minute later, Wyatt Earp came up where I was. Wyatt did not say anything. Morgan Earp told me if I was not heeled, when I came back on the street to be heeled. I walked off and asked them not to shoot me in the back.

A: Thanksgiving, primaries, this movie

Q: Things I look forward to in November:

i'll never leave you again, school

Have you ever had one of those mornings where you wake up, scuffle to the kitchen, and then stand there, paralyzed with daze, debating, for what seems like hours, between grinding espresso beans or eating some of the stale popcorn left over from the at-home movie night before?

Anyway I eventually pulled myself together and went out to look for jobs. Next week I will know for sure whether the Dean at UGA has approved money for new hires and I can work. But I’m not anticipating that. And I know I always joke about working at the piercing pagoda in the mall, but there is a very high likihood that I will be doing that come next weekend. Well maybe not THAT specifically, but I may be holding the STOP/SLOW sign at construction sites.

At least Tegan and Sara’s new CD came out this week. Will be a high point for awhile, I think.

having a word for

This is my response to Mary B's response to Jeannine Hall Gailey's post.

"Which ten books are the books that have inspired the most writing from you? The books you read that you couldn't wait to put down so you could write afterwards? These aren't necessarily your "favorite" books, but the books that have helped you generate the most new work. If you are a poet, they do not have to all be poetry, they can be fiction, non-fiction, etc."

I thought I would throw my hat in the ring here because it’s something I think of often when I’m stuck or need inspiration.

As I Lay Dying: William Faulkner. He had a word for love. Addie is the strongest persona voice I’ve ever read and whenever I need her, I can pick up any of her chapters and almost instantly get an idea. And I often remember and try to work against what Addie knows for sure, that “words are no good; that words don’t ever fit even what they are trying to say at.”

The House on Marshland: Louise Gluck, master of the unsaid.

West with the Night: Beryl Markham. Hemmingway said that after reading her memoir he was ashamed of himself as a writer. This memoir achieves a kind of quietness, which I think is nearly impossible in prose. Every time I open a page I am utterly stunned.

Written On the Body: Jeanette Winterson. Someone who has actually done something innovative to the narrative voice. She’s really fearless.

Beyond the Velvet Curtain: Karen Kovacik. She moves from Catholic saints to Kafka’s father. It’s about capturing the surges in ordinary life in a way that is utterly believable.

A Companion for Owls: Maurice Manning. I know that I’m beating a dead horse here with mentioning this again in my list, but this book made me want to try out persona.

View with a Grain of Sand: Wislawa Szymborska. One of the two first books of poetry I ever bought and read. Absolutely changed my life.

American Primitive. Mary Oliver. Second of the two first books of poetry I ever bought and read. The Ohio connection, the way of writing about the Ohio landscape, is something that has always influenced and inspired me. I wish I had her vision.

Catholic Saints online: Catholic Saints. I look at this website a few times a week. Yes, I am Catholic. But that’s not the reason. These Saints are absolutely insane and the stories behind their lives are always giving me ideas, even if it’s just one little detail.

For my 10th slot, I have to say that I am always inspired to write from great photographs. Sometimes it’s a collection from (obviously) Dorothea Lange. Or a funeral photograph after the gunfight at the O.K Coral. But most of the times it’s something from the Times or the local paper or a weekly rag where someone with dirty socks is sucking clams or dripping chocolate ice cream on their white shirt. Then again, I’m definitely a child of the symbolic era. I should move to Japan.

cover up those tattoos, young lady

I've been in pre-pre-pre-production for getting another tattoo. I've wanted two things for about a year. 1. A blue heron. and 2. the white buffalo woman. I've scoured images (my own and others) for both but the perfect thing is always hard to find. Then again, it's a good thing to be particular when putting something permanent on the body.

I have sentimental connections to both and think that the heron will be green-lighted first. I've found a good artist down here, finally, and now the only thing I'm waiting on is my job situation. Most of you know that I already have something all along the inside of my right forearm. My good, success-oriented , Catholic girl sensibilities already know the perils of sleeve tattoos. But isn't that the real reason that JCrew makes the long-sleeve burnt umber pinstriped business interview shirts.

Then again, I'm not sure if it will matter for my interview at the piercing pagoda. It might be a requirement there.

also missing arizona tonight

leave your taste on my tongue

10:09 PM. It’s too late for for me to make a Friday confession. Today I realized that these weeks I’ve been able to write 17 pages of a new sequence. I don’t know why. All I can think of is that Patty Griffin song “Long Ride Home.” Sometimes I wish that Emmylou Harris could co-narrate my life.

Anyway, here is how I’m feeling tonight. Joshua Radin and Schuyler Fisk singing “Paperweight.” I don’t know. Just a little calm.

interest you in apple, sweet tea, or rock, ya'll?

We’ve finally finished moving in and settling and are just now beginning to decorate. The last few days have been an exercise in extreme patience when trying to get the cable company to understand I wanted to set up my apple airport—yes apple—no, not pc—no I don’t have a Windows operating system—no, ma’am, you’re looking at the wrong screen—no, I don’t use internet explorer and don’t need to disable an antivirus program, I don’t have an antivirus program—no. no. Finally, it took a very charming tech guy from Estados Unidos Mexicanos to come to my apartment and call his friend in Mexico (where the cable company call desk is located) and get my info registered for my wireless to work. For the first portion of my time dealing with the utility folks I was having the usual Northerner feelings/responses. Bossy. Sassy. Impatient. I’ll admit, even a little rude. Then, all of a sudden, something happened when Carlos was here—a little southernness kicked in. All of a sudden I was MORTIFIED that I didn’t have any sweet tea to serve and compensated by gratuitously thanking him over and over again for helping me (with a little twang edged into thang-k yuuuuuu).



Here’s a puppy story for you, Mary: When I first brought my black lab, Winston Amadeus home, he was a dream. Very good at the whole crate training thing. Calm. Motivated to learn and be good and fulfill all of my own girl+hound dreams. And I figured this was entirely because I, being the brilllllliant dog-cargiver that I assumed I was, put a baby receiving blanket in his crate. I mean he was NEARLY my first human baby. And I concluded, he’s a dog, not a beast, I couldn’t expect him to sleep on that cold, hard crate surface alone without any softness to soothe him. Well, about two weeks later I came home from school and he had eaten the entire receiving blanket. I didn’t even know it was gone until a whole day of him not eating or drinking water had passed. The vet said his stomach had expanded like 10 times past what it should, that it was like he had a whole little round seedless watermelon inside. Anyway he had to have emergency stomach surgery and it cost me around $1500. He didn’t eat anymore blankets after that, but as if to keep me on top of things, will occasionally eat a medium to large sized rock.

purple haze

view after lightning strike:


I’ve been helping Sarah pack up the last few days for our move to a new apartment building down from where we are living now. Quite frankly, I just don’t understand. I thought the average person was like me—when moving… throw everything away except for what you would be able to carry in the event of a nuclear attack. I don’t still have a skirt that I wore my Sophomore year in High School. My Sam’s Club membership that expired in 1999, well, I let that paperwork sink into the dumpster—Oh—in 1999. When the National Honors Society pin rusted, I tossed it, along with my Mother’s dreams of me becoming a lawyer. Of course I have 60 to 70,000 boxes of books, but that’s another situation altogether. Anyway, it’s been an adventure.

I haven’t had much opportunity to spend time with Apollonia and (to be egg-hatcher) Michael Corleone.



It rained on Sunday night, finally. We needed it. The raindrops were fat, as you can tell from the light reflection in the photo. Tomorrow, if people set off fireworks—they can be charged with a felony. Yikes.

If you haven’t yet already, check out Sarah T’s poems on SOFTBLOW. They're fantab. And should kick anyone's poet ass in gear!



And now, I have to get back to painting a few canvases for the new living room. I love decorating. Nothing better than a blank wall. Or page, for that matter.

downtown

This is what I love about Athens. You can roll downtown, one of the coolest, hippest college towns in the country, and still find some soul.

historical conquests

So it turns out there is something to look forward to