Really, I'm just not so irritated tonight because I had a nice day. That dude from my Bezerkeley class, Umber, hung out with me for an hour and a half going over every word in a couple of my Perlllongher translations. He was so helpful and nice and we were in some ways on the same wavelength. Can I possibly describe my supreme happiness as he confirmed my timid suspicion that this one thing in the poem was actually about the hanky codes? Not that he is necessarily right either, but him also thinking that made me feel more confident. He also zeroed right in on the places where I knew I was floundering a little, and knew lots of good slang and could tell me things I had no clue about - like certain words that have slang double meanings for being turned on, or coming, or whatever...
That was the perfect useful critique! And I backed down from some of my neologisms.
And the talk on Borehays was nifty, with a thoughtful handout. Afterwards Prof. F. pulled me forward thru a little knot of people and shrieked in her charming shrieky way, "You HAVE to meet BADGER who, SHE knows how to trannslate Perlllongher!" belatedly realizing she had just rudely not introduced a bunch of other people. I blushed hotly and stammered something rather stammery... Can you imagine me in the full, tender blush of consternation and fluster-flummoxhood? That's where I was! I had nothing to say for myself! Alert the press, for I became tongue-tied! Bashful, diffident Badger made a rare appearance! If only I had said something witty and brilliant... my mind went blank... Oh well, it did not matter...
Then in class someone had brought a tape of Perlllongher reading! It was so cool! I love him more than ever; he was a great and dynamic reader.
And then on the break F. waved around some copies of my own poems that I had given her and nicely pointed out specific lines that she liked and then argued with me about others and seemed to be of 2 minds whether they "fit" or not and whether I meant what I was doing on purpose...
So you see why my mood is great.
It wasn't raining... there was not much traffic on the bridge... sunny and beautiful with the light gleaming off molten skyscrapers...
The most irritating girl in my Bad Class presented her trannslations, and her process was not all that bad, but she is just so wrong-headed that it was clear she missed the whole point. But... strangely... I could see that she was terrified I was about to dissect and destroy her efforts, and this mollified me, so I didn't. I waited a while and then just said that I read the possibilities differently... and I scribbled out my own version, but didn't read it... the thing is, she read the poem with the women being these passive, sad, rape victims.... I very quickly read alll the rest of the poems that went with it (in translation) and... it was much more about violence and ma3nids and the blood-smeared women, it was left very deliberately ambiguous who did what... just as easily a jostling throng of lesbian rioters. So I retranslated it by pushing it too far in that direction just to make myself happy.
Then afterwards this one dude complimented some stuff i posted last week and wistfully said he wished he could write poetry like that.
It takes very little to feel that all is well with the world... I worry about myself a little that I crave constant praise and attention but... a little goes a long way actually. Sorry that this is heinous boasting.... but I've been a little bit lost with my work in the last few weeks and just trying to run on the fuel of somewhat shaky faith in myself.
I feel so confident about the translations now and I can totallly do it! I'm so inspired to work like mad on it!
What am I going to do when I don't have weekly contact with the brain of prof. F anymore? Will I survive? Can I be friends with her somehow, or show up for her classes occasionally anyway and get a fix? It's a good thing I have this Treetip jury for something to sink my teeth into in the fall.
I should alsomention that reading all these short stories is making me start to write short stories. Expect some soon.
I think you are grand! Grand in the extreme!
Posted by: J | March 31, 2005 at 11:14 AM
Expecting short stories!! Oh, yes, this is something I can do!!
Spanish, I know not ... your translations are a mystery to me ... but expecting short stories, I can handle. Bring 'em on!
Posted by: Frances | March 31, 2005 at 09:58 PM
Ah... was just cleaning up my desktop and thought I'd post my retranslation here. keep in mind it's from gr33k and I don't know gr33k. poem by jenny m4st0raki.
Sexy ladies from hell in long gowns, raw-eyed. "Red-hot mamas!" they'd hoot at each other, jostling. Later their deeds would live in song. Virtuous maidens. With throats crawling with inkblue bruises, with rumpled skirts. And blood spreading like dark flowers on their knickers.
Look! that's what's left of yesterday's desire! Of Love!
where i said "they'd hoot at them" i think it might be more "people would call at them" or something - I'm not clear whether it is definitely outside people who are talking to/about them or whether it's ambiguous (either them hooting at themselves or other people hooting at them)
Posted by: badgerbag | April 02, 2005 at 02:49 PM