The theme of the Nimrod Writer’s Conference  was “Words at Play.” I found this to be a particularly refreshing theme, as I am mired thigh-deep in the middle of revisions for my agent. How do we play with language, when Editor Mode is engaged?

I did not exactly find the answer to that question, but decided to search it out for myself. I began to read Zen in the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury. Bradbury advocates reading every day, even unusual choices like trade journals, because you will learn from everything you read. He urges writers to read poetry every single day, even if we don’t understand it, because the subconscious will absorb the language. He stresses that we must write about our desires and our hatreds: what better way to keep passion alive in writing?

I knew Bradbury’s book was something I needed to read when I saw the following phrase: “If you are writing without zest, without gusto, without live, without fun, you are only half a writer. It means you are so busy keeping one eye on the commercial market, or one ear peeled for the avant-garde coterie, that you are not being yourself. For the first thing a writer should be is–excited. He should be a thing of fevers and enthusiasms.”

This got me thinking about other suggestions for keeping the play in writing. I think they can include such mundane and potentially silly-seeming things as buying a special pen to write with, an attractive, fun, portable notebook, or trying to connect with other writers through email, Facebook, or other modern options that allow us to open up to one another. Write poetry or flash fiction just to keep those muscles moving. Find something that fills you with passion–and write, write, write. And, of course, when possible, go to writers’ conventions and writers’ conferences. Learn from them.

I learned a lot from the Nimrod Conference, where both new and established talents discussed what makes them playful with language, and heard samples of the mischievous flights of fancy of such writers as Emily Dickinson and Edward Lear. Many of the writers showed a definite sense of levity in writing: making the everyday into something extraordinary. Peter S. Beagle described an eerie sense that might almost be described as being “possessed” by one’s character as they whisper in our ears and tell us what they want to do. Marie Howe read her poetry aloud and transported neighborhood markets into healing places. Robert Olen Butler read the last words of a chicken’s severed head. Words wove into a tapestry of sound and meaning.

I found, from the authors who spoke, that those who fall in love with the arts and language are often oddities in their families. We are familiar with isolation. When we get together in one place, the energy is boundless, higher than the buzz of any coffee. As I listened to the readings, the words of impassioned souls, I realized that with our many desires, nations, and languages, we are unified in our lifesblood, our love. We all fly aloft on a transport of words.

Nimrod Writer’s Confrence: http://www.utulsa.edu/collegian/article.asp?article=4228

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Seriously, though…

As I contemplate on the 40th anniversary of Sesame Street, I can do nothing but shake my head at the simple fact that this show is only 110 days younger than me. A fact in retrospect, I find comically…; well annoying.

I’m not really perplexed as to the concept of the anniversary per say, but the significance of the intervening decades is quite a ride. We’ve come a long way, boundaries have been pushed and not only have the fun, but the facts of life have been dealt with in a manner of education and empathy.

Now a bit off point, for a moment that is; I would also point out that Sesame Street wasn’t the only show to deal with these issues. I remember when Mr. Rodgers started his show once with the title song and at the end when he went to feed the fish he found one had died. It was, profound, amazing when this former pre-school teacher winged an entire show and talked about death and how it was ok to talk about it.

That was perhaps, in the first time in the modern era that death was openly talked about in an educational way to explain and soothe young, delicate minds. It however would not be the last. I remember when Big Bird talked about the death of Mr. Hooper.

I was very young, and there was visibly something very wrong with the show. An adult would have understood the situation and the incident without question. It wasn’t as if the cast hadn’t talked openly on the show about Mr. Hooper’s terminal illness. But still my young brain didn’t understand the concept of death or the finality of it. Thank you Big Bird for telling me the truth in a way that I could understand and accept, and why it was that Mr. Hooper wasn’t coming back. I then understood where my Grandpa went.

Over time new puppets were introduced, and most came to the table with important ways to explain, sometimes very serious, issues of the day. Take for instance Kami, the HIV positive monster. And some have been very annoying; doo doo da doo, doo doo da dada do, Elmo’s World. But still all have been pioneers in their puppet right.

There are so many characters but I remember the original the best. Ala peanut butter sandwiches, “C” is for cookies, vague; but recognizable references to animosity poorly referenced because most can recall the speakers name. Sometimes at a friend’s house, when their phone rings, I get looks questioning my sanity when I begin to count; one ringy dingy, two, two ringy dingy. I can’t help myself, and secretly wish it would thunder and lightning whilst I reveled in the confirming number in Transylvanian hysteria.

There is so much more. I learned how to be self confident and believe in myself, Big Bird taught me that. Mr. Snuffleupagus was more than Bird’s imaginary friend, everybody wouldn’t accept Snuffy’s existence. We all saw that Bird wasn’t going mental, but was rather a victim of perpetual bad timing.

This happened for years and finally in Hawaii, while searching for Mount Snuffleupagus, was Snuffy finally seen by all. And mind you they were all chasing Bird to convince him that Snuffleupagus didn’t exist. I learned what redemption was, how sticking to ones beliefs, no matter what other people say; how your knowledge of what of what you know to be true should not be taken away from you. In later years it was the dismay of others when I stood my ground. Thanks again Bird.

Who hasn’t taken the Birdkateer oath? I know that I am a grouchkateer as well. I know Super Grover’s secret identity; I’ll tell you if you don’t know, just don’t tell anyone else, it’s a secret after all. Up until now I have been modest, but surely you recognize my singing talents; I sang duet with Prairie Dawn at each and every opening of This little Theatre. I even speak Narf

I learned about disability, Linda taught me the world of a deaf individual. I learned a lot about sign language from her. Children in a wheel chair, others with Muscular Dystrophy, even young cancer survivors. I learned how others with conditions I sometimes didn’t understand, should be treated with dignity, but more importantly with equality. There were no boundaries, we learned to love each other through truth and understanding.

The Honkers, Pigs in Space, Gladys the cow, Muppet Polly Darton, Biff and Sully, the Typewriter Guy others ab infinium. Friends each and all.

Maria married Louise, had their child Gabby. Susan Bob, Alan and Miles. I remember them all. A new generation also has a first love in Gina.

I can go on and on, but do you know what I think is needed to finish this? No? I think I need to hear what you say as well. If you’re shy we can play this game I know. It’s called ‘One of these things is not like the others”, it’s a great way to get to know each other.

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Kintpuash

By Grainne Rhuad

“Following the ghosts is about making a contact that changes you and refashions the social relations in which you are located. It is about putting life back in where only a vague memory or a bare trace was visible to those who bothered to look. It is sometimes about writing ghost stories, stories that not only repair representational mistakes, but also strive to understand the conditions under which a memory was produced in the first place, toward a counter memory, for the future.”-Avery F. Gordon

Standing at the trailhead to Captain Jack’s stronghold, one feels as if they have been set down in some sort of Neverworld. One could easily be in a pre-historic or post-apocalyptic setting. You could equally imagine yourself on the Moon or Mars. For miles there is nothing but struggling sage-brush and cooled lava flow. Rocky and dusty, the air is still, and you get that creep up your back as if although there is nothing in sight for miles, you know you are not alone.

You wouldn’t be the first person feel this way. For over 100 years people hiking and hunting in this desolate area have reported feeling one or more presences, hearing footsteps when nobody is beside them, strange brushes of breeze on absolutely still days and even a few have reported hearing drumming, dancing and the murmuring that accompanies a working village.

This is Captain Jack’s stronghold and it was the place of the last stand for his band of Modoc warriors and their families.

The Modoc Indians as a tribe are very closely related to the Klamath Indians both of which originally resided in Upper portions of California and southern portions of Oregon. Somewhere along the line the two tribes separated probably due to hunting or tribal politics. However their language was very similar and indicated a shared history.  

In 1864 the Modoc joined the Klamath in ceding their land to the United States and joined their near cousins at the Klamath reservation. However, the Modoc and the Klamath Indians were different enough in practices and social life that they never really got along with each other. Most Modoc stories point to the Klamath tribe looking down on the Modoc and holding it over them that they were able to stay on a portion of their ancestral land. Additionally the Paiute who had long been in conflict with the Modoc were interred at the same reservation not long after the Modoc had been settled there. This introduction of the Paiute caused a great deal of strife on the reservation.

Many attempts were made by the Modoc to leave the reservation and return to their ancestral land but it was a Chief known as Kintpuash who crossed paths with a Shaman known as Curly Haired Doctor that would change the course of the Modoc tribe. Curly haired doctor was a practitioner and believer in the Ghost Dance and recognizing both strength and discomfort in Kintpuash, he indoctrinated the chief who would later become known as Captain Jack into the Ghost Dance belief. It was this belief that ghosts of the fallen and brave warriors would join their descendants’ cause in battle that encouraged young warriors to follow Captain Jack. In 1870 Kintpuash gathered together a band of warriors and their families and headed south towards California. Immediately soldiers were sent after them and the resulting skirmishes became known as the Modoc War (1872-1873)

Kintpuash, also called Captain Jack, was not interested in dealing with the United States government. He and his group had no intention of ever returning to any reservation and told them so. Stating “Not hurt to be killed with gun. Hurt much to starve to death!”

The Modoc band wandered for about two years but after an attack on settlers in 1872, the United States Army lead by Col. Frank Weaton was called in to deal with them. The U.S. Army pushed them into the lava beds around Tule Lake where the natural terrain made a perfect Fortress for the Modoc. They successfully eluded the Army from Jan to April, when they fell due to the traitor known as Hooker Jim who, in exchange for his own life, led the Army through the labyrinth of tunnels, rooms and paths to find Captain Jack. Captain Jack was tried and subsequently hung.

All of this activity, the battle, the fear on both sides, the uncertainty, the sudden deaths and the Ghost Dances set up the natural consequence of remnant psychic activity.

When walking through the short hike now called Captain Jack’s Stronghold one finds it extremely easy to be reverent. Although the pathways are narrow, one feels as if spirits walk alongside them. Not malevolent, simply observing, almost offering up guide-like service. Whispering in your mind’s ear, “look this way, see what I made.” If you slow down and pay attention and listen to these promptings you will see petroglyphs made to pass the time, notches carved for holding tools. All the while you will know, remember and see what it took to stand for something. This is the gift of what remains.

Eventually you will reach the Junction of two trails where stands a prayer tree continuously in use. Here you will find hanging all manner of things from pieces of ribbon to tennis shoes. Tobacco both loose and in cigarettes line the bottom of it, there is sage and evidence of ritually burned materials left by those who came to commune in this place where tragedy made a tear in the veil. As this is technically a crossroads do not take it lightly. Say a prayer, sing a song, and give a gift to protect you from that which may be able to pass through.

Continuing on you will come to the place that was held most sacred by the Modoc band when they were there; the Medicine Circle. It was here that the Ghost Dances were practiced almost nightly to ensure help from the otherside, and to ensure their own continuance in case of death so they could fight again against the tribe’s enemies. This place of all the places is the most unsettling. It is clear the amount of energy that lingers. People complain of stomach aches, sudden chills, and a sense of foreboding. It is important to be careful and respectful and remember that the spirits that linger in this place died none too happy with their white cousins. People have complained of feeling followed out of this place.

One such person was James who shared his experience visiting the site. As a youth James visited Captain Jack’s stronghold along with his family. He describes his experience as oppressive and heavy, saying he “felt like something was going to happen beyond my control, I just didn’t know what.” In fact this feeling grew the longer he stayed there. “I felt my heart racing and didn’t know why.” He states. “I also felt incredibly sad, particularly when sitting in Captain Jack’s cave. There were pictures carved into the stone there. I felt that if I had lain down, I would not want to get up. I remember asking my parents to leave as I could not overcome the feeling that I wanted to cry. This feeling lasted about a half an hour after I left the site.”

James also went on to state that although it has been some time and he is grown now, he will never go back there to visit. “The feelings were so strong and raw and not my own. I have never felt that way in any other place.”

A case for psychic disturbance could be made due to the history of the spot. Psychic investigators and enthusiasts often point out that where a lot of emotion accompanies death, a shadow of that emotion will remain, somewhat like a recording of an event. This is neither good nor bad; it simply serves to remind people of an event.

Another, more scientific explanation for off-putting feelings in the area is the fact that it is a lava flow and not a very old one at that. This pyroclastic land feature is only about 200 years old and there is still a great deal of volcanic activity close by. People very often feel sick, dizzy and out of sorts around active volcanic energy.

In any case the reports of psychic and ghostly activity seem to be malignant in nature. Rather, people mostly feel discomfort and sadness. What is mostly described is a feeling that they are witness to something important, that this site and its past should not be forgotten and should be given respect.

*Author’s Note: Due to wildfires in 2008, the public no longer has access to self-guided hiking here. Instead they have a Ranger to guide and interpret the trail. Current Modoc tribe members however have access to the site to practice traditional rituals and ceremonies. For more information and directions to Lava Beds National Monument visit http://www.nps.gov/archive/labe/content/INTERP_To_Do_Captjack.htm

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Question:

Dear Subversify. Your name includes it; many articles here speak of it. Yet it is presented in so many different ways I am wondering, what does it mean to you to be subversive?

Answer:

Good question. I gave this one some thought. Our name as most names given, was lovingly given the thought it deserves. We wanted to draw in and speak to those readers who may have ideas in common with ours; we also wanted to incite the curiosity of others who may have pre-conceived notions about what subversive means in the first place. It is an interesting conversation topic that you have given us, so what I did was offer it up to the round table of our staff and guest writers. What I found and what you will find is that everyone has a slightly different picture of what it means. These pictures are colored by their cultures, where they came from, how old they are, what socio-economical class they belong to. In the end there is no right or wrong answer, just a discussion, which is what being subversive means to me. To discuss, question and investigate the status quo. To see if –and I do mean if- something needs changing. After all we may have a grandiose idea for change based on current situations and feelings but overall change would be a bad idea. Example: The French Revolution. That type of subversion led to heinous consequences that most probably could have been avoided. On the other side of the spectrum lies someone like Larry Flint. Now some people may not think he is a subversive hero, pandering ladies flesh the way he seems to. But throughout his life has asked us, what makes this so special that I can’t joke about it? What makes that so special that I can’t have it in an article next to naked ladies? Someone may not agree with him; however you’d better show up with your game on because Larry Flint is no stupid hick. In the end, I think this is the greatest example of subversion. Make people defend what they believe with real intent of heart, backed up by well thought out logic. Making people think, even if it’s one at a time is what subversion and in the end Subversify is all about.

-Grainne Rhuad

The David:

Subversion is a systematic attempt to overthrow or undermine a government or political system by persons working secretly from within. So Webster defines subversity.
To my mind, Webster s definition is narrow. I believe subversiveness is also the state of being involved in looking at what needs to be changed, what does not benefit the people, and then working to see that those wrongs are righted. My weapon of choice is the use of words, and it is toward that end that I write, and it is for that reason that I admire this magazine.

Neonorth:

Ya wanna know what I think? Okay you asked for it, but I take no responsibility for this – I had eight shots of tequila implanted in my stomach after telling the bartender that I already had six at home but needed more…
For me subversive is the act of getting a person to see what you wish them to see whilst under the impression that it was their opinion in the first place; it is upheaval without being recognized as such. The act could be about an ideology, a methodology, or a behavior that is imprinted through passive-aggressive means so that the will to fight the change is kept to a minimum. It can be either negative or positive result dependent on the person attempting to be subversive when successful though the price for failure is extremely high thus making subversive-ness a tumultuous tactic to use.
A good example is from my good ol’ gutter crawling days of yore. My best buddy o’ pal in the world, Terry, is gay – not just homosexual, but gay as gay can be; he makes Richard Simmons look like an introvert. Make the mistake of putting on ABBA’s “Give me a man after midnight” and any drink you have on the table will be spilled in the wake of the mighty Terry dance of delight and if there happens to be a good looking guy sitting at the table, Terry would make sure that bloke’s drink went straight into the guy’s lap to which a horrified Terry would offer to blow dry the objects that may have been soaked by his clumsiness. ..Anyhoo, Terry and I have been friends since we both were sitting on the floor with soiled clothes, which could mean last night, but I’m talking when we were both infants so I don’t even register his antics as he doesn’t register my hetero little flamboyant quirks of attempting to get the crowds to recognize that yes, the world does revolve around me and the sooner everyone friggin’ gets that the sooner we’ll get along, damn it (aka I’m the arrogant s.o.b. with the continuous smart ass remarks in lieu of any depth of thought in answering any question that may be thrown in my general direction).
One of the downsides of having such an openly gay friend when going out to drink and trawl the bars is that I am often mistaken as being gay, which you can imagine can cause for some friction from some homophobic men under the illusion that they are irresistible whether they are bent over or not. The upside is that with so much gayness emanating from Terry it causes women’s gay-dar to have phantom blips right in the area of where I happen to be standing, sitting, hanging on for dear life as the world spins faster and faster, what have you. Why would this be an upside? You may be asking yourself “wouldn’t a guy seek to prove how manly and un-gay he is when in the presence of some female flesh”? The answer is no, no I didn’t, don’t and will not. I think it must be some subconscious genetic competition thing that goes on inside a woman’s brain. She thinks to herself, “hmmm, there are so few decent guys out there, and if this dude is going after guys as well as I am, the chances of getting a good one drop considerably – I must take eliminate competition.” Hence the next morning one or two women wake up feeling proud of themselves of making point of the night one of converting a guy from homosexuality to heterosexuality even though the point was actually mine being put into them…over and over and over again. Just think, now you’ll never get the time it took to read this back…subversive of me, isn’t it?

ycats:

Some see the glass half full, others half empty. Then there are the few who ignore the trivial nature of full/empty in favor of trying to capture a more complete understanding of what the fuck a glass containing water really means. Subversive thinkers are deconstructionists. An analogy might be a child that rips apart his toy to understand its inner workings. The child is given his toy, told what it is and how it works, but insatiable curiosity allows the child to destroy the the object in order to reveal more. The verbal description wasn’t enough, neither was the satisfaction of possessing the item intact. The child is rewarded by learning the simplicity that the toy presented was far more complex, and then the understanding that socialized simplicity has an inherit deceptive quality to it. Life is oversimplified, and we are all presented with ideas and asked to accept them at face value. And all too often, we accept description of things we are taught as truth. Subversive thinkers are never happy with face value. To think subversively, one deconstructs ideas to understand the mechanics. It is this deconstructive playtime that sums up the idea of this place we call Subversify. At least that is what I get from it.

The Late Mitchell Warren:

I guess it would mean rebelling against established government, conventional morality/ethics and questioning whatever happens to be the philosophy of the day. What I don’t know is if we rebel against authority because all mankind is inherently corrupt or because rebellion gives us an identity.

Karla:

In my mind’s eye subversion would be viewed as a tool we use to work towards freedom. I speak of intellectual and spiritual freedom, a breakthrough between defined morals and laws. These two personal governing states are devised thoughts of how to live in an organized society. They are methods that usually work but don’t necessarily mean everyone agrees with them.To me it’s like a math problem, if it’s not 2+2 equaling four then we have an issue. Math problems have solutions and are proven. The solutions cannot be argued. Religion, law, culture, tradition etc., all play unproven roles on designing what a man or woman should or should not abide by. For thousands of years these techniques were used to mold and create civilizations, but how many members of those societies suffered the consequences due to unfair rule? Even in present day, where governance in many places has been moderated to a non-barbaric system, people are forced to succumb to specific standards. We’re told that a crooked line is straight, and if we don’t see it that way, to accept it. That’s not freedom.

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Till next time Keith Hupp

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RodRD4-sQ2s&feature=related

Whoever we are
Wherever were from
We shoulda noticed by now
Our behavior is dumb
And if our chances
Expect to improve
Its gonna take a lot more
Than tryin to remove
The other race
Or the other whatever
From the face
Of the planet altogether

They call it the earth
Which is a dumb kinda name
But they named it right
cause we behave the same…
We are dumb all over
Dumb all over,
Yes we are
Dumb all over,
Near n far
Dumb all over,
Black n white
People, we is not wrapped tight

Nurds on the left
Nurds on the right
Religous fanatics
On the air every night
Sayin the bible
Tells the story
Makes the details
Sound real gory
bout what to do
If the geeks over there
Dont believe in the book
We got over here

You cant run a race
Without no feet
n pretty soon
There wont be no street
For dummies to jog on
Or doggies to dog on
Religous fanatics
Can make it be all gone
(I mean it wont blow up
n disappear
Itll just look ugly
For a thousand years…)

You cant run a country
By a book of religion
Not by a heap
Or a lump or a smidgeon
Of foolish rules
Of ancient date
Designed to make
You all feel great
While you fold, spindle
And mutilate
Those unbelievers
From a neighboring state

To arms! to arms!
Hooray! thats great
Two legs aint bad
Unless theres a crate
They ship the parts
To mama in
For souvenirs: two ears (get down!)
Not his, not hers, (but what the hey? )
The good book says:
(it gotta be that way!)
But their book says:
Revenge the crusades…
With whips n chains
n hand grenades…
Two arms? two arms?
Have another and another
Our God says:
There aint no other!
Our God says
Its all okay!
Our God says
This is the way!

It says in the book:
Burn n destroy…
n repent, n redeem
n revenge, n deploy
n rumble thee forth
To the land of the unbelieving scum on the other side
cause they dont go for whats in the book
n that makes em bad
So verily we must choppeth them up
And stompeth them down
Or rent a nice french bomb
To poof them out of existance
While leaving their real estate just where we need it
To use again
For temples in which to praise our god
(cause he can really take care of business!)

And when his humble tv servant
With humble white hair
And humble glasses
And a nice brown suit
And maybe a blond wife who takes phone calls
Tells us our God says
Its okay to do this stuff
Then we gotta do it,
cause if we dont do it,
We aint gwine up to hebbin!
(depending on which book youre using at the
Time…cant use theirs… it dont work
…its all lies…gotta use mine…)
Aint that right?
Thats what they say
Every night…Every day…
Hey, we cant really be dumb
If were just following gods orders
Hey, lets get serious…
God knows what hes doin
He wrote this book here
An the book says:
He made us all to be just like him,
So…
If were dumb…
Then God is dumb…
(an maybe even a little ugly on the side)

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