Thursday, April 7, 2011


…I have a new poem, "Bruised" up at Yes, Poetry and also here under "Words In Print."

…It's a peculiar feeling sending your work to places so that other eyes and minds will read it and formulate some sort of opinion/conclusion about your voice, skill level, the words you chose and how you prefer to string them together. It's an unsettling feeling when you have, say, a LOT of writing out there, say, many, many stories and poems, a novel and a story collection. It makes you not want to write anymore until you hear back. After all, those are your kids floating around, the babes you brought into this brazen world, the toddlers turned young adults that you tended to, raised with love and patience, and now they're gone and you've not heard from them and you're wondering if they are okay, have they met someone, are they just lazy in not getting back to you, maybe the words are busy busy busy and oh so happy in the new place they've found because that place is not with me, and--because it's not with me--it's therefore different and far more interesting and stimulating. Maybe that's the situation. Or worse, maybe they met someone who was abusive. Maybe my words got in with the wrong crowd and now they're homeless and hungry and too ashamed to let me know that.
See how vulnerable one can get?
I miss those words. Their silence makes me lonely and somewhat worried. I'm rooting for their happiness, for their bright futures. And I do want them to meet someone and find a good home. I just need to know that they're fine. If you've seen my words out there, please tell them to call or write.

…I am not sleeping a whole lot. I stay up late, get up early, and then in between, I have spans where I wake up and my mouth is too dry and maybe I'm having night sweats or maybe I'm stuffed up from allergies or perhaps I'm wide awake from a vivid dream I had, one of those clear-as-Azul-oceans-in-cancun-so-it-must-be-a-real-dream dreams, and it's sort of scary, this dream and how much it feels like reality, and maybe it's because I don't want the dream to be real that I lay there making shadow animals out of the shapes on my ceiling, no different than when I was a kid but stayed awake for other reasons.
I'm hoping that sleep is overrated.
I'm counting on three hours to do the trick, get me through, up and over the hump, whatever hump it is I'm struggling to traverse.
I used to sleepwalk. Sleepwalking is no fun. Of course, you don't really know if you're having a good time or a bad time during the actual occurrence because you're basically a zombie, but AFTERWARD, in the morning, when you are told what you did, well, it's sort of a horrifying feeling. You wonder, did I really just stand at the mirror, drooling and ogling myself for fifteen minutes? Did I really spend an hour at 2am reorganizing my bathroom medicine cabinet? Are you sure I did those things? Why would I do those things? If I did those things, then maybe I have something seriously wrong with me.
I think sleepwalking is creepy and I'm glad I haven't done it for a while. I guess insomnia isn't so bad by comparison.

…I just played Nirvana, "You Know You're Right" really loudly in the car and the convertible fabric was still shuddering after I closed the door and locked it.
I can't imagine Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love would still be married if Kurt hadn't killed himself. However, I can imagine John and Yoko still together if what happened hadn't happened.

…I like these things on a Thursday:

I used to think as I looked out on the Hollywood night—there must be thousands of girls sitting alone like me, dreaming of becoming a movie star. But I’m not going to worry about them. I’m dreaming the hardest.—Marilyn Monroe

When they discover the center of the universe, a lot of people will be disappointed to find that they are not it. -- Bernard Bailey

Whether you can do a thing or not, you are right. --Henry Ford

--Your car goes where your eyes go.
--The true hero is flawed. The true test of a champion is not whether he can triumph, but whether he can overcome obstacles—preferably of his own making—in order to triumph." --From The Art of Racing in the Rain

It has bothered me all these years that I don’t paint like everyone else. --Henri Matisse

Will and I could hardly wait for the morning to come to get at something that interested us. That’s happiness. Orville Wright, co-inventor of the airplane

I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions. Augusten Burroughs

Junk is an honest word. --From "Parenthood"

Procrastination is the thief of time. –Edward Young

Procrastination isn’t the problem, it’s the solution. So procrastinate now, don’t put it off. Ellen DeGeneres

The best doctor in the world is a veterinarian. He can’t ask his patients what’s wrong—he’s got to know. --Will Rogers

Don't say you don't have enough time. You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Louis
Pasteur, Michelangelo, Mother Teresa, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Einstein. --H. Jackson Brown Jr.

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