Posts

Showing posts from October, 2023

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Twenty-Eight

One of the things that I am finding very interesting about working in flash is the way it allows me to examine my habits around writing fiction.  The pieces are small, but they have to be stories in all the same ways that any other piece of writing would have to be.  They can't be missing plot or characters or any of the other narrative essentials simply because it is not as along and there wasn't enough space for it.  It has to be a kind of miniature which still does the same job as the larger version, if only in a different way and at another scale.  This means, in essence, that each time I write a new flash piece I have an opportunity to learn more about how I structure a story, as well as having a chance to look at what is and isn't working, what is or isn't satisfying for a reader.  The fact that each day I am writing a new story from start to finished draft is allowing me to get a lot of insight that would probably be less forthcoming if I were just writing one lo

Poem: I have said it is fine

I have said it is fine but I do not know. It may be, or it may not be. I cannot be certain. I have been told things but none of it helps. The only clarity is in the direction of danger. I know that lurks. I can't be careless, not these days. I am aware  of what is around, of the prowling, the lurking, seeking, wanting.  It is not secret, not from me, anyhow. I suppose it could be  that it is all perfect and nothing  is amiss.  Any worry could be misplaced. I don't have answers; I don't even want to be the one who is asked for them.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Twenty-Seven

Maybe I should be moving away from writing about my flash fiction efforts each night, but I do feel like I am making progress which is worth contemplating.  I spent a bunch of time trying to figure out what to write tonight and wound up with an idea that I think was pretty fun.  Really, at the moment, my struggle is with finding concepts that I can shape into something in a short enough format.  I know that, realistically, that is not so difficult.  I have ideas for stories all the time, even if they aren't always meant to be flash pieces.  In the end, I don't think that matters.  There is probably a way to use almost any story idea as a piece of flash, or as an epic novel, it is just a matter of finding the right focus and approach.  Obviously, a flash piece cannot convey the same things as a novel, that would be ridiculous, but a story can be told in many ways.  There is not a reason why an idea that might be the source for a novel or other longer work couldn't be rendere

Poem: I like it quite a bit though I do not understand it

I like it quite a bit though I do not understand it or know what it is doing or why.  I don't even know if there is anything more than the simple and superficial. Maybe it is obvious and the lack of anything is why it satisfies.  Perhaps it is so impossibly simple the mind becomes certain it must be something else and not that.  Maybe it is not simple, really, or it is both simple and not simple all at the same time depending on the perspective and what is carried to it. All of that, and none of it and many other things that are present and lacking and all jumbled up into coexisting oppositions, the impossibilities that have become required. Those things, too. I don't think I know what it was any longer. I had a grasp on it, maybe, but I thought about it for just a bit too long.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Twenty-Six

I feel pretty good about the flash story I wrote tonight, actually.  It felt satisfying, I think, and it felt like it had some real substance in there, even if it is still quite short.  In terms of the process aspects that I have been focused on, I felt quite good.  My goal is to develop my ability to improvise flash pieces on demand, and that is something that I don't think I can just figure out.  I think the key is to keep doing it, forcing myself to confront that blank page over and over until it just becomes an invitation.  As I keep doing this, I am hoping that I will develop strategies for approaching that situation.  In poetry, I certainly have my go to approaches, but they don't always feel transferable to fiction.  Instead, I need to practice and develop a whole new approach.

Poem: We did not plan to go

We did not plan to go I do not know if it is possible now.  It may be too late for us to make that choice, if we even want to, which I am not certain of. I do not want to be cruel to you, but even if we go it will not be to spend that time with you. You have your friends who will be there and who are not our friends.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Twenty-Five

I was able to pull off drafting another flash piece tonight, though I did resort to one of my tricks for writing poems when I am stuck: I wrote about the fact that I was trying to write a flash piece and let that become the story.  I'll often do that sort of thing in a poem, but in a story it is rather different to do that, I think.  A poem can just be a set of reflections, but a story has to be a story, which has other requirements.  I was able to make it work, I think, but I know it is not something I can rely upon again and again.  I think the real answer is that I am going to have to face this concern again and again, and over time I will develop ways to manage, strategies and tools I can make use of to keep things going smoothly.  I do think that I am going to need to be open to other kinds of stories, maybe, including some that might be drawn more from real life, for example.  They are already waiting, as it were, so when I don't have an idea for something else in mind, t

Poem: There are wrongs I wish to hear about from you

There are wrongs I wish to hear about from you It is part of why you are here with your expert opinions and specialized abilities. I do not pretend that it is wrong when you speak of inferior workmanship or materials.  That is fine, that is your purview. Those are the things you should speak of. Your other opinions do not matter to me, except in convincing me to keep away from you.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Twenty-Four

I struggled a bit with writing another piece of flash fiction tonight, mostly because I did not have a great idea of what to write or where to start.  I did have an idea for a story at one point.  The basic premise is that a group of researchers perform an Egyptian style mummification on an animal and that causes the animal to go to the Egyptian afterlife.  I still like it but I am not certain how to put it together, or just what to do with it in order to make it more of a story, so I put it aside and went in a different direction.  I am honestly not certain what I think about the story I wound up writing instead.  I don't know that there is much to it right now, but I did write it, and that is still the thing I am focusing on at the moment when writing flash.  It is new to me.  I have to develop those muscles.  

Poem: I was not waiting

I was not waiting and it was not my place to wait: I did not have an obligation to be ready.  It was your need, and I am not the one who must meet it. It was nothing to me. I did not speak of what I wanted or my desires. I did not go against you or make trouble. I would have. I felt it within me, but I did not loose it. Perhaps, I should have but I am a coward at times.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Twenty-Three

I continued on with the flash fiction today.  My biggest fear is still that I won't know what to write and will just give up, but so far that has not been a case.  Both today and yesterday, I found myself with an idea that seemed to work.  I am not, if I am honest, all that worried about making the stories perfect right now, just in feeling confident that I can write a new flash piece each day without it being a major challenge.  I know that I will improve in my work with practice, so I don't need to really focus on the actual writing itself all that much right now.  If I can get to the point where I am certain that I am always ready to write a new story, that I can always conjure up an idea for a new one on demand, then I will be able relax and just focus on getting the stories to be the best that I am capable of making them.

Poem: There is a difference

There is a difference in what I tell them, though: it is true. I speak of what is impossible as the answer I prefer, of what cannot be as the only way forward. I know I contradict, I demand, I complain about what is needed when it cannot be the way I say it must. All that is true. I don't know how to make it better, how to change that. I have said before the change  must change things. It can't just be thinking other thoughts in the same situations.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Twenty-Two

I have decided to try writing flash/micro-fiction as part of my regular practice.  In part this is a practical decision, as I think it would be good to have some short fiction that I can post online.  As well, I do think that it is a good way to hone certain aspects of my fiction writing craft effectively.  In part, this is because I am certain that writing flash each day will push me to develop that muscle, the same way that working on other types of writing has pushed me.  There was a time when I didn't write a poem without feeling deeply inspired, for example, but now I am at a place where I can write one just by choosing to do so.  That does not mean that it is always easy, or that it is necessarily anything of value, either, but I know that I will be able to write a poem, if I commit to doing it.  Even more, I have realized that often the poems I write now are better, deeper, more connected, than the ones I created when I was waiting for the muse to visit me.  In many ways, th

Poem: I tried to tell you

I tried to tell you but only in a small way and maybe you heard it. I hope you did. I am afraid.  I need you to understand that, to recognize it. I don't like the possibility, the answers that are not answers, that tell me the rest is just more dark, more long and empty. It is what I think is there. Why would I let that be? I told you that is no good, is not a place for me. I cannot remain here, but I am trapped. There is not any way forward without intercession, without an unlocking from without. You do not have answers or a way to change that. It is still the only answer. The other way is waiting, though, is there, heavy and final. You must understand. There must be something that can help, that can change what is wrong and does not pretend that is something within me or my thoughts. I do not know what else to tell you. I tried to be honest. I am holding, though. It won't be easy, but I know I must.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Twenty-One

Melissa and I had a meeting with a contractor about the work that needs to be done here and I wasn't too impressed.  For one thing, he told us that, because of the previous contractors screw ups, he wouldn't be able to get the work permitted, and that there is not any possible way to get around that, and that's not acceptable to me.  Honestly, I do not trust a contractor who is willing to do unpermitted work after our previous experience.  At this point, I need to be certain that the work is being done right, and that includes having it permitted, just as a matter of course.  Beyond that, I am also aware that not having permits can cause problems down the line with insurance claims, not to mention just how disastrous it could be if we wanted to sell.  What concerns me, though, is that I understand his point.  The truth is, to get the work permitted will require having someone sign off on it, and I don't know who will want to take on the responsibility of making certain

Poem: I should have made you choose

I should have made you choose should have been explicit that it was the same thing but in an opposite direction, should have made it clear I was in the same pain. Of course, I know that if I had it would not have helped. You would not care, would have been the same. I am certain the only difference would be  in making it explicit. You would have to admit you were against me. I suppose  I would prefer if you were honest, even if what you said was that cruel.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Twenty

I have to be up early tomorrow morning so that I can be at the gym by 7:30 for training.  I don't normally go quite that early, but it was the only time that I could get when I was making my appointments for this week.  I should have tried to get my work done early tonight so that I could get more sleep, but I was busy in the kitchen.  I actually baked a layer cake this evening, almond cake with lemon curd filling and frosted with tarragon Chantilly cream, which probably helps explain why I need to go to the gym in the morning.

Poem: The limits are not yet clear

The limits are not yet clear but he didn't seem optimistic, either, though I am hoping that was just his attitude and will not be universal. I don't have much faith that there will be great help, that it will work out well. It has been wrong and gotten worse. I need there to be a way. It would mean it was possible for something to be right. If it is the opposite, the symbolism shifts as well.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Nineteen

I received word that the first episode of the podcast has gone live, and you can listen to it here .  I am not entirely certain what the delay was in getting it up, but I don't think it matters all that much, really.  It isn't as if I had something huge planned around the scheduled launch date, so I don't think it is going to make much of a difference.  Besides, it is still just the first episode.  It is bound to take a bit for people to discover what were doing.  Honestly, I think I am just focusing on this stuff because I am nervous about the podcast in general, about whether there is enough consistency between the episodes and what people will think of it.  I suppose that one advantage of the fact that each episode is a bit different is having a chance to learn what people respond to and seem to enjoy the most.

Poem: There is an order

There is an order and this is first, I should remember, but I slipped and thought about  the next thing instead of considering what there was  to be handled first. I do not know why. It is always the same, things do not shift or move about, they remain, are waiting as they have been. Still, the truth is, I am the one  who chose for it to be this way. No one would notice if the order of things shifted or care if they did.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Eighteen

I suspect that my co-producers may have decided to wait on the launch of the podcast until the beginning of next week.  We had discussed that as a possibility yesterday and I was fine with it.  Meggie, who has been very hands on and handles a lot of the tech stuff, was sick this week, and I think she was also travelling for part of it, as well, which contributed to the decision, I believe, though a lot of it was logistical concerns, from what we discussed.  In any event, I am still waiting to get the signal that it has gone live, but I know it is coming.  I am genuinely excited to learn how it does once it has been put out into the world.

Poem: I did not say anything

I did not say anything though what I noticed  troubles me.  I am uncertain and it might be best to just stay out of these things. I can't be certain I even understand and just asking feels inflammatory. I suppose it doesn't matter. I am not involved, am just an observer, an outsider. It is why I hesitate. I do not even know if what I notice is what actually exists.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Seventeen

My podcast was supposed to launch today, but I think it might have been delayed slightly due to some technical issues.  It is possible that it is live right now and I just haven't been informed, but I know there was some delay after it had been uploaded to the distribution platform.  I am not entirely certain what or why, just that it apparently takes a while after getting the file on the server for it to be ready to launch.  I'm not certain if that is a technical necessity or is done for other reasons, as I thought that uploading the episode would be the only step in getting it ready to launch, but I am not an expert or even all that well informed on the topic.  Anyhow, it is either out already or coming very soon.  I should have a link to post tomorrow, unless, of course, there is a further delay.

Poem: There is not a space between

There is not a space between there is not the tiniest gap, not a bit of room for motion or adjustment, not for me, not in this. I know what was said and it was important. You must remember that. You did so much harm already, even when you knew the damage that would come.  Now, it is too late for those things to change and I am expected to continue anyhow, am expected to forgive, even. But that means you must keep your promise, too, even if it is inconvenient. You made choices, obligated yourself. Do you want  to make all of this worse? Of course, I have said nothing. I know it would not matter to you, that you will do whatever you want and will tell me I am the one who is being unreasonable or cruel. I should speak up about it, but I do not trust you enough to even accept that I am in pain, that this is me wanting you take the actions needed for healing to even be possible between us. I wonder if understanding that would even make a difference to you.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Sixteen

Melissa and I are starting to do some of the stuff that we need to in order to get our house functional again.  It is not going to be easy, and there is a lot that needs to be determined, but we have taken action.  For me, getting started is often the most difficult part of the process.  Once I am engaged, momentum can do a lot to help me stay the course, but taking that first concrete step often feels a bit daunting, so just the fact that we have begun in a real way feels important and worth celebrating, even if I am still not entirely sure what is to come.  I have many concerns, to be honest, and I don't even know what is really possible under the circumstances, and I know that makes it easy for me to just remain in hesitation, but what good is that?  We have done nothing for so long and dealing with this has felt like an impossible task, but it has to be done.  It is good to be on that path at last, even if I am still a bit scared about just where it is leading.  

Poem: What if it cannot be that way?

What if it cannot be that way? It is not a question that I like very much, though I know you are asking for good reasons, are preparing me because this is the real world and not everything can be right, most things are not, at least not in every detail.  It may be there is not a possibility. I know that is true, and you are right to ask, because I would ignore that and get myself stuck, convince myself it is the only way and nothing else would ever be alright. You asked, and I told you I would be alright, that I would be flexible and work within the limits that are presented. I do not like that, either, but it is the way it must be, and it is best I considered it first. Maybe that will help. I hope that it does, will try to keep in mind the way I answered, that it is how I wish to be.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Fifteen

There is still a bunch more work to do in my office, but I am finally able to use my computer again, for which I am quite grateful.  I wasn't certain if I would get to this point tonight, but thankfully, I have.  At present, I've still got a huge box of books that is still waiting to be unpacked, and I am a bit concerned about the condition of the books in it, to be honest, but I am trying to be hopeful.  I unpacked the rest of the books that were piled up by the workers earlier today and they seem to be alright.  I am just going to keep my fingers crossed until I have an opportunity to finish getting them re-shelved.

Poem: Always there are holes left open afterwards

Always there are holes left open afterwards Those chasms remain. In each case it is that way. That is what you tell me. I am no different, but what good is there in knowing  that it is this way? I do not want to be hurting. I know too much about the reasons and what cannot change and what has been. I do not want  to sit within, to open further and know more. I want to be different, to have some way to make it right, to change the circumstances that keep it this way. I am sure you would help with that, but how?  It is not enough to know what is within, is not perception alone or accepting how it is. You understand all of that. I know it is not  your intention to pretend I should let it remain. You know better than that, but I have no power to change these things. They are beyond me. What is within is not enough, yet it is all we have.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Fourteen

I am glad to find myself finishing up my work at a relatively early hour tonight.  I am quite tired already, as it has been a busy day.  Mostly, I worked to clean up in my office.  Melissa has been directing my efforts, which is not always pleasant, but it is helpful.  I am not the most capable when it comes to organizing and such, so I do appreciate it, at least when I have time to think it through.  In the moment, it can be easy to feel a bit frustrated or agitated at times, as I just want to leap into doing the tasks that feel important to me, but she is helping to make sure it gets done in a way that will actually make the space functional.

Poem: Remember who

Remember who will be named, who it will be that must stand in the shadow of these acts. You think that is why it must be done, but it is the reason to stop, to not, to stand  for what  we wish to be, for who we want the world to know. Consider each misdeeds a scar the coming generations must all wear.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Thirteen

Melissa and I had a meetin today about stuff related to getting the rest of the work done to fix up our house so it is actually livable again.  It has been too long.  To be honest, I am not certain what to think right at the moment.  I didn't really get the answers that I wanted, and I am afraid to find out what it actually means in practical terms.

Poem: We came to you and asked

We came to you and asked and you gave an answer and now that was a lie, was worse than just that, was a way to make it clear you were hurt and upset while denying that meaning. It is not alright.  We wanted to be honest with you, wanted to find out  what would make you happy. I am certain you will blame us. I wish you understood the harm you are doing.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Twelve

Melissa helped me to begin the task of reclaiming my office.  It is going slow and I will admit to being a bit frustrated that we couldn't get more done.  I am still waiting to be able to use my computer, for example, not to mention that I can't access most of my poetry books at tbe moment. either.  Hopefully we have laid enough ground work that tomorrow will feel more productive.

Poem: I am not certain why I keep trying to explain these things

I am not certain why I keep trying to explain these things It is an obsession, as if it will help, as if describing it right will make it different, will alter it,  will give me power over it. Maybe, there is more to be understood, but no description will make it better, even if it is one you can finally understand.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Eleven

I wish that I were writing on my computer in my office tonight but I still have to get things back together so I can make use of it again.  I am hoping that I can focus on that during the day tomorrow.  I know it won't be the easiest or most pleasant task, but it is necessary and I am getting frustrated without access to my own space.

Poem: Do not tell me you are helping

Do not tell me you are helping You may believe that but it is not the truth. It was always clear what was required, what help would mean. You might be trying but nothing has changed. I want to have faith it will, but I need evidence of progress, and not in those other terms. I need you to show me that you can achieve results that matter to me. You knew those criteria from the very start, it can only be measured against that standard. 

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Ten

Earlier today I found out about a special event happening at Zak The Bakers throughout this month in collaboration witb O Miami: the bakery is giving out loaves of bread in exchange for poems.  Heating about this, I was rather delighted: the idea of trading a poem for a long of bread is powerful.  I also have to admit a certain fondness for Zak The Baker, indeed, it is where I went for breakfast when we went to Miami on my fortieth birthday.  I was excited and was already considering taking a drive down to Miami to take part.  Then I read the details and learned that the poems must be handwritten.  As those who have followed me for a while may know, I am severely dyslexic and one of my major problems is an issue called dysgrafia  which is a specific cognitive impairment related to handwriting.  I have discussed this before, but suffice it to say that writing by hand is physically and mentally torturous for me, and the results are an illegible scrawl that looks as if it was the very fir

Poem: My mind lost its grip on when it was

My mind lost its grip on when it was I slipped forward, certain  I had misplaced a day, had misunderstood it, perhaps, as another. I had a audden certainty that I has been wrong, that I had miscalculated throughout the day. But it was the opposite. I had been correct before. The error was thinking I had not known in the first place.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Nine

I just realized that I was supposed to take some medicine this morning that I forgot about.  It may be fine if I take it tonight, anyway, and I am certain that I can take it tomorrow morning if not, and it should be fine, fortunately.  It is not a medicine I take every day, so it is easy to forget.  At least I remembered before I let it slip for too long.

Poem: It was slow to go wrong

It was slow to go wrong but now it has and I am not doing anything to make it better, just commenting  on what I should have done, what could have prevented this. I had plenty of time, had chances and choices. I cannot pretend I was not in control. I could start to make it better right now. If only I wanted to do that. It just seems like an awful effort.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Eight

I am going to keep tonight's entry fairly minimal, I am afraid.  At the moment, I do not have a standing appointment for training at the gym and the only time I could get for tomorrow was early in the morning, so I need to finish up and start getting ready for bed.  I am a bit surprised, to be honest, as I often find it is the nights when I really need to finish early when it takes me forever to get myself in gear.

Poem: It Is No Good to Give Up on The Possibility

It Is No Good to Give Up on The Possibility If there is a way, it must be in the mind and not in the world, bit what good is that?  I do not want to alter what is in my mind, I want to change what I encounter beyond myself, to change  what is, what will be, to change things that exist outside of my own self. I do not know what answer there can be, but I will choose to keep my certainty that it must be possible.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Seven

One of my main reasons for keeping this blog has always been as a way to make certain I do my writing.  I feel an obligation to keep going, and especially because it is in public.  I value it for that reason, but I know it means I often jump into a post without knowing what I am going to write.  I do think that there is a value in that spontaneity, but I also recognize that it can lead to somewhat unfocused entries.  I know I need to work on that, but just how is a different question.

Poem: I was certain

I was certain but I did not trust my certainty, though I was correct. I checked  and my belief was confirmed. I did know, could have trusted what I believed. If only there was a way to be sure of my certainty without checking it against reality.  

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Six

I am thinking that it may be possible for me to finally start getting my office back in order starting tomorrow.  It will probably take a bit to get things right, and I am still worrying about the condition of my books, but I need to address the whole matter either way.  It will certainly be good to have my own space again.

Poem: I am waiting

I am waiting for the moment when it happens. I know it has not. I have not accepted it, have kept it away, kept it in a box where it does not hurt. But I cannot. It cannot be this way. I will realize, will have to accept it. There is nothing to be done. It is over.  Time moves forward, moves away.  It is gone. I will need to accept that. It will happen. I know it must, that it is needed, but, still, I am afraid.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Five

Everything going on in Isreal right now is very upsetting.  To be honest, I do not feel equipped to have a reasonable opinion at the moment, though I have to acknowledge that I feel a certain amount of sympathy for the Palestinians, considering the way they have been treated over the years.  That is not intended to suggest I condone there actions, but I recognize the reality that they are dealing with and can acknowledge the forces that led them to take these actions even while I am still critical of the violent tact, and concerned about tbe many individuals on both sides who are likely to suffer as a result of this war.   In the end, I can't help but think this will just be bad for everyone.

Poem: My care is wearing

My care is wearing I have noticed it, the decaying effort. I have slipped away, fallen back, faltered. I am weakening, losing energy, motivation, the desire, even, to keep with it. It is so much, is each day, is constant and eternal. I know it is what is needed, that it is what I should do, or must do?  Is it necessary?  It feels required.  I feels that way. I suppose that is part of the problem, wishing for a choice, wishing it felt like I have a choice, but who does not prefer to do what they want without negative consequences?

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Four

I am feeling rather overwhelmed at the moment.  It has been a difficult evening and I am working on processing things.  I am glad to have finished up my other writing so that I can wrap up my work for the evening and focus on other things, or maybe just zone out for a bit so I can get ready to sleep.  Either way, I am keeping this short and wrapping things up for tonight. 

Poem: I was eager and excited

I was eager and excited thought I was fortunate, that it was a chance to have what had been denied. Things had gone so wrong the last time.  I started with no expectations, was not planning for any of this. It seemed to be waiting, until I reached out. It was illusory. I cannot help thinking it was only there to make certain I realized I am not allowed whatever it is I want.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Three

I am beginning work to revise a short story I finished a few months ago.  I often find it helpful to let a piece of writing sit for a while before I go back to it.  There is a certain egotism that often exists when reviewing a piece of one's own writing, but the distance of time can lessen that. The biggest problem for me with setting work aside in that way is getting back to it.  I am always focused on writing, and I often think that I can leave revision to do when I am getting ready to submit work or as part of putting together a compilation of works for a larger manuscript.  In this case, for example, it was suggested that I get this story polished up so I can create a recorded reading for my podcast, and I am glad to have been prodded to get back to this piece.  I am finding a lot in it that I lole a great deal, but it does need a bit of tweaking as well.

Poem: I need to tell you

I need to tell you but you refuse to even allow that. My pain  is an attack, is not allowed. Whatever is done must be fine, must be good and right. That is definitive, it is what it means that you have done it. How dare I speak of your malevolence. My grievance is a weapon  a.d you  are the only  victim possible.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-Two

I have been feeling a bit stuck in working on my vampire essay.  It is not that I don't have a lot more I can say or other areas to draw from.  I. Could keep doing research and building more and more into it, but it is already become a book in length.  The issue was more about the direction of the work.  I can easily make a solid argument about the anti-Semitism of Dracula and the subsequent vampire genre that grows from that work, but I also know that I want to offer some way to move forwards, if I can.  I know that much of what is important to those interested in the genre is interconnected with the anti-Semitic themes, including many aspects related to sexuality and gender, as those have long been common themes in anti-Semitism.  I do think, though, that I might be considering some concepts that attempt to move the vampire out of that anti-Semitic space.   It is still just the spark of an idea, but I am quite excited to let it grow.

Poem: You do not know that story

You do not know that story Why would you?  It is not one anybody else would tell. They would not tell it, I do not think, and not to you. Why would they tell you? You do not need to know. I know you do not need to know. I don't want to tell you, don't want you to know. I think it would hurt you. Maybe, I am wrong. It might mean nothing or you might understand another perspective on it. Maybe, I am afraid of that and do not tell you. It could be.  I might  be lying to myself that you are the one I am protecting, that I am keeping you safe. That I just wrote that makes a strong case, perhaps... I still don't plan to tell you, even though I know it means you can't understand how I feel about them, and why I am unable to trust them.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-And-One

The contractor finally was able to begin some of the work we needed to have done from this summer.  I had expected him to start a while ago, but he kept having to delay due to various illnesses.  Anyhow, they started now, and actually got some stuff squared away already.  Even if they get through the stuff we have lined up, there will still be a ton to do, but at least it is a start.

Poem: I thought it would be a reason

I thought it would be a reason that it would be required for things to be shifted, again, but it was not required so I left things as they were, because it would be work to make the change. I was not ready for that. It was easier to do nothing, or almost nothing, just enough and no more. I wish it had been necessary, now I might remain stuck.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Eight-Hundred

I need to deal with the situation in my office,  but I am still finding it quite overwhelming to even contemplate how to tackle it right now.  I need to, though, both because I do want to get back the use of that space (including my desktop), I also need to assess any damage to my books fron the way they were handled.

Poem: It may matter

It may matter when it is too late, when it has gone too far and the response is too final. It may be that will make it clear, will cause a change. It might not, though. Thinking about it, it seems unlikely. You are how you are and it won't help. It is good to know that, if I can remember when it matters most.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Seven-Hundred-And-Ninety-Nine

Earlier tonight,.Melissa and I were watching an episode of a television program from about ten years ago when one of the guests on the show, a comedian, began to discuss the idea that Judas was the first vampire.  I found it very strange to find this being presented so casually, as it is connected with many deeply anti-Semitic myths, and I am certain that it was not anything the speaker was aware of or considered.  Of course, i am very sensitive to this subject, which is both a cause and an effect of writing about the subject, but even if I put aside the particulars of my relationship to these themes, I know that this story has an inherently anti-Semitic subtext.  Yet it was not recognized as offensive or intended that way.  In many ways I have come to think of the vampire myth as serving a function demonstrated here, as providing cover for anti-Semitic tropes in a way that renders them unrecognized by many, to the point that they can remain relevant and even proliferate in culture, ev

Poem: I found my way fast

I found my way fast which was a surprise. Most nights are harder, require searching about and feeling lost. I do not know why tonight was so different. It was, I think, random and that makes it just luck, which suggests I cannot make it better. I am just needing to be lucky more often than I have been. That would be a very good skill.

A Writer's Notebook, One-Thousand-Seven-Hundred-And-Ninety-Eight

I received some very upsetting and unexpected news today and am still processing it.  I don't really want to write about it at the moment, but it is also the only thing I am thinking about.  I suppose that it is best for me to just keep this short and be done with my work for tonight.  Maybe I will be in a better space tomorrow, at least I can hope so.

Poem: I should have gone

I should have gone I did not want to regret the choice I made to stay away just then. When I chose I knew it would be  no good if it became a regret. But it is, now, I regret not going. I believed there would be another chance, but I was betrayed and now it is gone.