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Showing posts from October, 2024

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Fifty-Two

I have put fiction on the back burner for a while, now, while just focusing on writing my poetry.  It has been quite rewarding, though I have had a few ideas for fiction, as well.  I think I should try to get back to it at some point, or maybe I just need to take on a larger poetic challenge of some sort, or something else.  I certainly feel like I want to push myself in some way, but I am not quite certain what that is in the moment.  

Poem: You are breaking, aren't you

You are breaking, aren't you and you know it.  I know what is happening, have watched it and thought it  would come, have been a witness if nothing else, if not more. I am one who has seen it, who might have known or thought it was this way, that it would come to be, and now?  You are not  ready for it to come down, to come apart, how could you be?  Why would anyone expect you to be? But it was always coming to this, you had to realize that. And soon, it will be what everyone knows, it will be exposed, and then?  I do not know what comes, but I have  some hope it might be for everyone's best.

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

I am having a bit of a strange time today, in terms of my own mentality.  I mean that I have kind of been struggling with issues that come from my dyslexia.  It is strange, but there are some days where it just feels like I am more neuro-diverse than others, and today was definitely one of those.  I was constantly getting turned around and felt kind of overstimulated by everything around me.  I took a nap this afternoon which seemed to help a bit.  I am hopeful that it will be easier tomorrow.

Poem: He tells me the check did not clear

He tells me the check did not clear but the bank shows it as having been paid, but he says it didn't reach him, the money, I mean. He has the check, and he deposited it. He has never played games with me, or done anything to make me not trust that it is true, that he is lying or trying to get away with something or another.\ He does not seem angry, maybe annoyed?  I don't know.  It is not clear to me. I think he is just telling me what is true and nothing more. I should ask the bank to look into it, I guess. If he still says he does not have his money tomorrow, I will call the bank. I should have asked them to do it today, probably. He is the one I am making wait.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Fifty

I am, for once, getting my work done before eleven, which is nice, especially as I had to be up early this morning and am planning on getting up kind of early tomorrow, as well.  I also got some other work done that I needed to deal with.  There are still a number of things that I need to prioritize, but I feel like I am making progress, which is all that I can really hope for, I suppose, and does help to lower the tension for me.

Poem: I feel bad for the guard at the museum

I feel bad for the guard at the museum who was stationed in the gallery room with that one piece  we saw today that had the video camera, the one that said |"welcome," each time  person walked into the frame on the television monitor that displayed the live feed. It was that type  of electronic voice, like you would here opening a shop door, only it went off twenty, thirty times each minute, or that is how it was  when we were there, when it was busy. I would hope there are quiet times, because that guard has to get sick of it. Maybe that is the point, is why.  I am not certain I understood the reasoning, but I guess it is about that, is about the idea of being welcomed in a way that feels abrasive or alienating and impersonal. I could just be reading into things, though.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Forty-Nine

I feel quite overwhelmed at the moment.  For one thing, I have a lot to do in regards to prepare for my chapbook to be published.  I also am still dealing with things to fix up our home, and that is somewhat stressful at the moment.  Beyond any of that, I also have a lot of personal stuff that has been difficult.  I need to be able to make certain changes to improve things for Melissa and I, but it has been challenging.  I'm not at all sure what to do about a lot of it, but I am hopeful that I will get there, it just feels like a lot right now.

Poem: I have thoughts

I have thoughts answers I would give that are not the same as those I have heard, but I don't know if I am the person anyone wants those answers  to come from, or if they would listen. And maybe they are bad answers, too. I can admit that is possible, though I don't believe it is true, unless I do and that is what stops me.

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

Yom Kippur has ended, and with it, the High Holy Days of the Jewish calendar.  I am quite exhausted at the moment, but I don't think I have a lot to do tomorrow so maybe I can sleep, especially since our air conditioner is actually working again.  In any event, I am going to keep this short for tonight, as I often do when I am tired.  I am not sure that anyone really cares about the length of what I write here.  To be honest, I don't know how many people really care about what I write here at all.  I do it more for myself, as a part of keeping myself accountable about my writing, and in that sense it is fine if it is just a few short sentences.

Poem: I do not know which way

I do not know which way it will be or if it is  already decided or still can change, and I know I would like to be part of making choices, of taking action and making plans and whatever else it is, not just avoiding or being told or doing nothing until something(?).   I can say it is better or worse and point out  my reasons. I don't have  any more than that, not in the moment, anyhow. I want to be careful, but, also, I want it not to matter.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Forty-Seven

It is Yom Kippur and I am kind of just rushing to get through this because I have an early start tomorrow.  Services are at ten, but I am going to the gym before that, so I need to get myself to bed.  I should have gotten to work earlier, but my brother is in town and he leaves tomorrow, so I went to spend a bit of time with him, as I probably won't have a chance to see him again in the morning.

Poem: Let's return to what it was like when things were better

Let's return to what it was like when things were better It would be best to go back to something that was, or maybe to the idea of what it was, the way it is remembered, which is not the same as what it was, but who can be honest about that, anyhow, what with the only way to know being the memories that say it is a way it was not, so why not accept that? Not that it helps, even if it were once so much better that is long ago and everything is different. Yes, if anything is to be blamed let's just say it is time's arrow.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Forty-Six

We were quite fortunate to not get much of an impact from Milton.  I know other folks who live not too far away who had more to deal with, and there was definitely the potential for some serious effects in our area.  Tornadoes were happening in counties adjacent to our own, possibly even in certain parts of the same county, though still miles from where our home is.  We are lucky that the most we had to deal with was some power fluctuations at a lot of leaves.  There were certainly trees down near our home, so it is not as if there couldn't have been worse, even with the storm on the exact same trajectory, if I consider it.  One has to, in some ways, assume that it is coming, even if not this time, at least here in Florida, and it seems increasingly in certain other areas as well.

Poem: Indulging a superstition

Indulging a superstition I can think it is real, think so enough to think it is worth  putting energy into the effort, because it is a small effort, and trust that, even though it is silly and I know it is silly, and I am not the kind of person who is silly in that  particular way, but it is still a small thing and I can do it if I wish. I don't know if there is any harm, or think there is, and it is just me indulging something to make a way of believing, maybe, to trust in a possibility. That seems  worth doing and even important, I suppose, even when it requires something a tad absurd.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Forty-Five

Well, another storm is barreling its way towards Florida and it seems as if we may get some impact in my part of the state. I spent much of the day clearing things up, bringing in stuff from the patio and making certain we had space in the garage for our car to fit.  There is still a bit that needs to be done, but most of the biggest stuff has been taken care of already.  At the moment we have a bunch of potted plants that need to be relocated or secured somehow.  In any event, I think we are in pretty good shape, and I am expecting that most of the local impact will actually be rain, not so much wind, though it is far from out of the question.  I am probably just being optimistic.

Poem: All of it is done

All of it is done just now it is thought not everything but all of it in some ways, maybe, or in a certain way and from one special angle, but it is not just an illusion. It is true from that perspective, because all it is can be called a perspective, or that is the argument I am making to myself right now so I won't freak out or get overwhelmed and because I want to say I have done enough.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Forty-Four

I have been reading a lot of poetry recently.  In particular, I read a whole bunch of Eileen Myles work, which I have found very impactful.  It is not easy to explain just what I am finding in their work, but I know it is to do with the specificity of it, and with the kind of linguistic play, and with the willingness to allow certain kinds of imperfection, to be human in the work, I suppose, even in how it reveals its own flaws.  It is also the diction of the work, the way that it remains so understated and kind of everyday, which would maybe seem like it should be an insult, but is not at all.  Rather I mean the way that Myles is able to capture so much in a voice that feels so real and lived in and part of the ordinary world.  It is hard for me to pinpoint just what it is in that work that I find so exciting and energizing, but I suppose that is kind of an essential characteristic of the magic of great poetry.

Poem: I've Been Procrastinating

I've Been Procrastinating There is so much and I have done too little but I want to do it, don't I? I think so, but it does intimidate me, perhaps, or daunts me, maybe, or are those so different? I am not sure why I needed to ask that except that I am in a doubting mood, a questioning mood, but questions of doubt and self-doubt, I think, if you want a flavor. I would say that I am wondering just why that is but the real answer is just fear, as boring and normal as anything.  I don't know why I should be afraid, except that I am human and it is what happens, at least sometimes.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Forty-Three

I have been very focused on poetry lately, and I feel it is paying off.  While I do have ideas for stories and a desire to get back to more of that soon, I am finding that concentrating on poetry for a bit has kindled something.  It is hard to speak about it in any really concrete way, but I feel a shift in the work, and a kind of focus to it, as well, that I think is a bit different than it had been.  In any case, I feel excited about these poems at the moment, and have a sense that I am making progress towards within the work I am doing, although I cannot really say quite what I am progressing towards.

Poem: If you want to know, I am still hungry

If you want to know, I am still hungry which is not surprising, really, or not strange, at least, because I am big and do eat a lot, but I am trying to pretend I am not hungry, to convince myself that I don't want anything else because that would be for the best, at least in terms of my diet, and I hate admitting that or following it or feeling trapped and controlled and all of that. Also, I am actually hungry which is not something I enjoy. I wonder if that is really the bigger problem, if I could only learn to change that instead and not feel hunger the way that I seem to.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Forty-Two

I have wasted a bunch of time tonight and now it is getting late.  In all honesty, it is quite a bit earlier than some nights I have had, but it is late for me right now, and I am quite tired.  I am glad to have gotten some good work done, although I didn't get to everything I intended to.  There is quite a bit that I need to focus on, but it can wait until tomorrow at this point.  I just need to make certain I actually make myself do it. 

Poem: I move forward but I don't get anywhere, yet

I move forward but I don't get anywhere, yet because forward is only a direction or a relative placement, maybe, is better as a way to talk about what I mean, or maybe it is best to just say that nothing changed, there was motion but not advancement, not progress.  I don't think I can be clear about it because I did not understand and am still trying to unpack it all for myself, but I thought it was movement, and there was activity and excitement and all that action, but it ended with everything meaning what it always meant. There was nothing gained, even the changes change nothing.

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

I have an idea in mind for a story.  At the moment it is a general premise, and it isn't all that unique, overall, but I think I have an idea for what I want to do with it that puts a spin on it.  It is a bit odd, though, in a way that I can imagine some people being put off by, but I think that aspect is also essential to what will make it work in the way that I am hoping it will.  The real trick is going to be in making certain that it is not purely a single joke, but that there is more to it which redeems those aspects of the story in a way that feels more sincere.  I am not certain how easily I can explain any of it without giving away too much, but thinking it through has certainly helped me to understand where I am going with this in a way that I didn't when I started my blog for tonight.

Poem: I have considered it all

I have considered it all but it is not as if I have taken the needed steps, not all the steps, anyhow. I did a few things but I did not do all the things. It is fear.  I admit that. I am timid, maybe, or is that just a way to be shy about saying it scares me?  I suppose it is the same thing, but saying that makes me uncomfortable since I rely on words to be different even if they mean almost the same thing. How is that the thing I come to? I had a point and a place I was aimed and all of it evaporates because I distract myself with a bit of nonsense. It is words, at least, which should matter to me, I know, and do, I would say, but still, I had a reason when I started this, or I think I did. I begin to think it must not have mattered much, considering. That could be ego or some such mechanism of self- preservation.  I don't know.  It is just that I don't care all that much any longer.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Forty

Melissa and I attended Rosh Hashanah services again this morning, but they only go until around noon, which I find a bit odd.  It is not as if there is very much else to do, in terms of commemorating the holiday, so it just kind of became an ordinary day afterwards.  We went for lunch and then just went back to our normal routine, more or less.  I am not sure if that is what I should do, but it is what happened.  Originally, we were planning to visit my cousin's family for the evening, but with Mom catching Covid, we decided to stay home instead.  I suppose that would have felt more like an occasion.  In the end, though, I think that Rosh Hashanah and, as well, Yom Kippur, are about reflection, about creating a space for that type of contemplation, and I believe that is something that I can carry with me over the next week or so.

Poem: I have said I would

I have said I would or would try, at least, and I did at least that much, but you won't know or recognize it because it was nothing more than an effort, nothing but that, because I failed, which I am fine with, or I say that I am, even though I do want it to be done. I don't have it, not right now. I will have to own that. I know what I said but I will have to be clear about the state of things. That is what scares me, not the failure itself but the admission.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Thirty-Nine

Melissa and I went to temple tonight for Rosh Hashanah.  The service was very nice, although it seemed as if it were not very well attended.  It may just be that it is quite early in the season and a lot of people have not come back to Florida from there Summer homes.  I suspect that it will be busier for Yom Kippur.

Poem: The service

The service It was beautiful and I wish I felt more connected, but I don't, not really, which is hard to even admit, but there is still a bit of resentment or fear or both, and I wish I did not have that but history doesn't vanish. What happened then is still relevant to me, is part of the past that brought  us to this moment, and I know it is different now, but the feelings remain. I can't be free of that, even if I wish I were. It happened and I remember it. That is enough.

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

Today was kind of a busy day, and I am expecting that tomorrow will also be kind of hectic.  All of it is stuff that is important, and I am glad to be getting it done, but I can't deny that I am also a bit stressed about things.  Tomorrow evening is also the start of Rosh Hashanah and the Jewish High Holidays, which is nice, though it is sad that my mother isn't going to be able to join us, as she is sick with Covid at the moment.  I am sure we will be able to celebrate with her for Yom Kippur, so that is something to look forward to.

Poem: The task was given to me in a dream

The task was given to me in a dream I did not choose it and I don't recall if it was accomplished in the dream or if it was left to be done or if it was given in the dream with some intent it not be a task  in the dream but something more. I do not know, but I wonder and I wait and I seek, maybe, or just am open? Am waiting, I guess, but hopefully, as if it could be the truth because why not have some faith in my own mind or whatever place dreams come from?