words, words, words
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
If I begin to detail myself here, will you understand?
P. I am me
Q. I don't always know exactly who that is
R. I am Quaker
S. I like words and playing with them
T. I like genmaicha tea
U. I like the word napkin more than most others
V. I spend time walking my neighborhood
W. I cook rice often
X. I sleep well most every night
Y. I eat large amounts of fruit and vegetables
Z. I munch, sleep, write, create, cook, bike, watch, walk, listen, hope, learn, drink, live, breathe, touch, know, question, taste, copy, read, stare, carry, talk, dance, finger, try.
raisin@gmail.com
albums:
Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs
Erasure: I Say, I Say, I Say
Depeche Mode: Black Celebration
The Beach Boys: Pet Sounds
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On?
David Bowie: Hunky Dory
George Michael: Listen without Prejudice
George Gershwin: Porgy and Bess
Yo La Tengo: And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out
songs:
Wild is the Wind: Nina Simone
Come Undone: Duran Duran
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini: Rachmaninov
My Funny Valentine: Chet Baker
Feeling Yourself Disintegrate: The Flaming Lips
This Must Be the Place: The Talking Heads
Hyperballad: Bjork
|
|
|
|
|
|
| |
Monday, October 14, 2002
I read a poem of mine last night. it needs reworking before i do anything else with it. surprisingly enough, I liked it. I'm becoming aware though that I'm the only one who understands these things. That is, if I write a poem, of course i'm going to understand it. I can see all that lies behind it, that I didnt' tell. Yes, it helps to have some distance, but I've been reading my own words for years now. And really, nobody else has. I guess the only way to find out is to let people read my things. Maybe that's the secret point of writing this blog. or maybe i just feel like being noticed here and there. I also noticed in my poem that when I let go of the poetics and just told the story, i wrote more convincingly. It wasn't strained or difficult like the first two stanzas which need serious help. Does that mean I should write all future poems in such a prose-like way, or does it just apply to this poem? I don't see the point of structure for it's own sake. My favorite kind of dancing is just doing what i want, spinning around the floor. I don't feel like learning anything complex. My favorite kind of cooking is playing on old ideas that I have in my head or that I find in a recipe book. Those meals turn out the best for me, when i'm not following anyone else's dictates (I made a fresh pesto today with almond, basil, tomato, olive oil, tofu, and buttermilk - it turned out all creamy without being fatty). So maybe I'll keep writing poems that are just me talking, give them enough structure to be poetic, but not so much that I'm faltering over the process.
I caught the arch today, driving by downtown, stopped by a long red light. I've always seen the reflection there, in the buildings, but never had my camera. This time, I tore open my bag to grab for it, and snapped a shot well in time to check it out before the light changed. maybe tomorrow i'll go there on purpose, find more reflections of that giant curve. I'll post the picture soon, i promise.
6:09 PM
|
|
| |
|
|
|
