- Some times you’re in synch with the world, and sometimes you know you’re not.
This would be a not day, or a knot-day. Brain’s a clattery train yard. Nerves on edge so any unexpected sound makes my skin leap. I’m officially tired of being me. I’m accepting CVs for people to play the role of me instead. I’m not sure who will handle the auditions. Ah, right, also taking CVs for a casting director.
- I’m taking stock.
- That does mean pilfering goods from the office right? (Of course, working at home, it means going from one pocket to the other. But get rebellion where you can.)
- I’ve concluded time is going quickly. That may be just confirmation bias since I concluded much the same at age 8.
- It’s the 10th year of my being at the Poetry-W listserv. How many dozens of people have been thru over the years? I was in a couple other face-to-face poetry workshops at the time which have fizzled since but that one keeps on. Now I’m more mentoring and sharing theory posts instead of being an omnidirectional fuzz looking for guidance.
It’s funny that it works for me because it’s pretty consistent for me to write poem drafts constantly then binge edit in rapid cycles of substantive edits. With a workshop that allows only one per week, that means I have nothing or more than the group can accommodate. Still, I often can tell if I broke a poem. But close edits can be myopic and I tend to forget the reader needs to be oriented before I leap in mid-way. I like poems with gaps that don’t spell everything out.
- Charles Tumbrull said at Frogpond, in talking about juxtaposition,
[…] when the gap between the two parts is set exactly right by the poet so that with a moderate amount of effort the reader is able to experience an “aha!” moment and suddenly be smothered in extra meaning that was not present in either part. The proper regulation of the gap in a spark plug is often used as an analogy to the mechanics of the haiku. A functioning gap will vary for various people, of course.
Some people have to be led by the nose. That’s fine. I don’t need to be the one with the shank lead. Other people already know what I’m saying. They can go off and speak to others rather than us both wasting time affirming each other. It’s that slim overlap where the gap is a productive one that is the sweet spot.
- One does what one does. As Marvin Bell put it, “Everyone needs something to do in his or her life that they would do even if no one paid them to do it.”
- I know I lose out by being a generalist with gaps. But so do people who don’t read or perceive broadly. Not that there is anyone who is not a specialist or anyone who is not a generalist. The depth, widths and overlaps just vary. Talk to me about species or poetry or architecture or let the steering go any random direction and I probably can go somewhere. (Don’t talk to me of sports or movies or music or anything invoking the word hegemony. I will have no idea. I will glaze over. And you’ll just frustrate yourself.)
- While I was busy gadding about, it seems I missed another anniversary.
Feb 22nd, 2003 I started blogging at Humanyms. I missed my own 10 year anniversary. Oops.
- In 2008 I pointed out I had 1200 posts here, and 4000 comments.
I can’t exactly count anymore. A couple years ago I thought I was making an archive of older posts, but was backing up and overwrote the backups, and didn’t realize for some time. (Lost, lost.)
Of those posts I can still see, those since moving to WordPress (the third platform), I have 1900 posts (murky estimate: about one every second day on average). I used to do daily and have switched to 1-3 times a week.
There have been 6,525 comments. I’d like to thank you all, even if some, in absentia.
- People who started to write withdrew into less-traceable offline. Or decided to photograph or have babies or write cookbooks or change careers. Or outlet their lives at FB instead. But mostly just ghosted away and deleting blogs as they left.
Blogging is often such a interstitial state – the old haunts are ghost towns. I suppose that makes it a mandala of life.
As with anywhere, you can’t stay only with your cohort because they drift off or die off. You need contact with every generation, a continual stretch of neurons to novel challenges. To begin again. And again. And. New births of relationships to offset the constant loss.
- I suppose that I seem sad. I’m not good at rah-rah hop-up the excitement. I don’t trust excitement and whoop. That seems a sport for the young and excitable. I don’t know about excitable, but I’ve never been young. Or maybe that’s just my shoulder talking. (Shh, shoulder, watch your language – this is a Family-Friendly Space.)
- I don’t seem to post poems here much anymore so here’s a draft being wily about getting done.
a couple going down the canals
when my hearing clogged I stood, s_t, in dad’s
head. birdsong shut out and conversation
became more in_erence th_n usual,
reliant on hands, say again?, helpers.
fatigued anger. strained, withdrawn, pretending
that I know what was said because I’m tired
of being accommodated, or not.
how much of his irritation was ‘him’?
or about ‘them’? how much, daft vs. deaf?
how much m_re would golden-years marriages
flourish with hearing aids? ads: “hear the vows
you renew daily.” “get him back.” “turn up
those sweet nothings.” photo ops: jammed
restaurant, two deep in conversation,
walking thru the door of a party, “that
whistle didn’t come from your hearing aid,”
“the fun back in functional”; a coup
with a couple, their 5000 buck ears.
For poetics I’m characteristically spilled water – spreading out in all directions, and wetting socks. That’s a kind of niche too. It worries when people say to be developed you must be a specialist in one thing. It nearly convinces me that one increasingly narrow path is an ideal.
Another episode of my sporadic participation in Thirteen Thursday.
Noteable Quoteable: “Word of mouth comes from intermittent delight. Things that work all the time are harder to talk about.” Seth Godin