it's happening again.
the insomnia is back. went to bed early-ish only to wake up at some ungodly hour ( my eyes were too blurry to read my bedside clock and when i reached to turn the light on, i thought better of it. it is probably much better that i do not know at precisely what time it is i woke right up in the middle of the night. it is enough to say that it was a dark and cozy hour and that my roommates were not making any noise at all. which means it was probably around 3 a.m.).
and i almost passed out on the 5 bus this morning. again. this is, i think, the third time this year that i have asked someone to move from their seat because i thought i was gonna pass out. i'm going to get a reputation. it is a little ridiculous though, and i'm somewhat embarassed. i think it was just way to many people crowded onto that bus. i need a bike.
watched dr. strangelove with the maestro this weekend 'cause i'd never seen it. we were drinking in the sun at zeitgeist and then went back to my house and ordered burritos and such. it was nice that my couch is large enough to hold both of us lying down. (also kinda nice that i'm dating a guy whose willing to lie down on that couch with me but whatev.) C found a picture last night of me and the maestro that must have been taken years ago (my hair was still red and C says it's when S was dating his former roommate) but is so obviously dolores park it's hysterical. it's a black and white pic, taken by former roommate girl, and it's pretty good, of both of us. and it's neat to me for some reason. and it makes me smile.
been having some trouble with the whole pen-on-paper thing. the maestro is trying to take advantage of chza's fancy new copier machine and wants everyone to turn in a poem on the 2nd thursday of the month, so that we can get a chapbook-type dealie out on the third thursday and then everyone can read their poems that appear in the book. a good amount of people turned up with poetry last thursday. i, as a supporting and somewhat participatory member of the group, turned something in.
but i hate it.
it's terrible. it's not good. and it makes me feel poorly about my abilities as a writer. so i've been struggling with it - i got B to edit the shit outta it, and it's better. i think i should be able to memorize it, read it on thursday, and then hopefully never think about it again. i don't like it. and i couldn't really find a way to see how to fix it. and then B - in a way that was helpful but stung a bit - pointed out that it's not really about anything. i wasn't really saying anything.
for some reason this awarded me some insight. which was helpful because last night, i really needed to hear what C was saying. although i haven't had an actual decent conversation with him since he's been on antibiotics, he was making some good points that tied in nicely with the previous conversation i had with B.
which were - poetry, in and of itself, should never start with a bad idea. so what do you really have to say? what's the most crazy thing you've experienced, witnesses, participated in, etc? also to be kept in close contact with the idea that a) you should write about something and b) pay attention to what you really want to say and express is c) in ancient greece the idea of insanity and exile were pretty much the same thing, so take your personally experience of exile and insanity and make sure that it informs how you are expressing the previous ideas.
all of which was kinda a nice breakthrough/epiphany type thing for me. i needed to hear it, felt better after thinking on it for a while, and was glad that i live with people who could tell it to me. however. what do i really have to say? what have i really done that is insane and incredible? how is my voice unique and all?
all i have to say lately is damn, i'm bored. and i can't think of anything that incredible that i've done in a while. and i'm pretty sure that my voice has been pretty trite and predictable lately. so i got all in a tizzy and worried that i'm just a dumb, empty person. then i realized that was stupid, because i'm not. neurotic? totally. naive? somewhat. stupid? no, not really.
but i still can't think of anything to say.
the insomnia is back. went to bed early-ish only to wake up at some ungodly hour ( my eyes were too blurry to read my bedside clock and when i reached to turn the light on, i thought better of it. it is probably much better that i do not know at precisely what time it is i woke right up in the middle of the night. it is enough to say that it was a dark and cozy hour and that my roommates were not making any noise at all. which means it was probably around 3 a.m.).
and i almost passed out on the 5 bus this morning. again. this is, i think, the third time this year that i have asked someone to move from their seat because i thought i was gonna pass out. i'm going to get a reputation. it is a little ridiculous though, and i'm somewhat embarassed. i think it was just way to many people crowded onto that bus. i need a bike.
watched dr. strangelove with the maestro this weekend 'cause i'd never seen it. we were drinking in the sun at zeitgeist and then went back to my house and ordered burritos and such. it was nice that my couch is large enough to hold both of us lying down. (also kinda nice that i'm dating a guy whose willing to lie down on that couch with me but whatev.) C found a picture last night of me and the maestro that must have been taken years ago (my hair was still red and C says it's when S was dating his former roommate) but is so obviously dolores park it's hysterical. it's a black and white pic, taken by former roommate girl, and it's pretty good, of both of us. and it's neat to me for some reason. and it makes me smile.
been having some trouble with the whole pen-on-paper thing. the maestro is trying to take advantage of chza's fancy new copier machine and wants everyone to turn in a poem on the 2nd thursday of the month, so that we can get a chapbook-type dealie out on the third thursday and then everyone can read their poems that appear in the book. a good amount of people turned up with poetry last thursday. i, as a supporting and somewhat participatory member of the group, turned something in.
but i hate it.
it's terrible. it's not good. and it makes me feel poorly about my abilities as a writer. so i've been struggling with it - i got B to edit the shit outta it, and it's better. i think i should be able to memorize it, read it on thursday, and then hopefully never think about it again. i don't like it. and i couldn't really find a way to see how to fix it. and then B - in a way that was helpful but stung a bit - pointed out that it's not really about anything. i wasn't really saying anything.
for some reason this awarded me some insight. which was helpful because last night, i really needed to hear what C was saying. although i haven't had an actual decent conversation with him since he's been on antibiotics, he was making some good points that tied in nicely with the previous conversation i had with B.
which were - poetry, in and of itself, should never start with a bad idea. so what do you really have to say? what's the most crazy thing you've experienced, witnesses, participated in, etc? also to be kept in close contact with the idea that a) you should write about something and b) pay attention to what you really want to say and express is c) in ancient greece the idea of insanity and exile were pretty much the same thing, so take your personally experience of exile and insanity and make sure that it informs how you are expressing the previous ideas.
all of which was kinda a nice breakthrough/epiphany type thing for me. i needed to hear it, felt better after thinking on it for a while, and was glad that i live with people who could tell it to me. however. what do i really have to say? what have i really done that is insane and incredible? how is my voice unique and all?
all i have to say lately is damn, i'm bored. and i can't think of anything that incredible that i've done in a while. and i'm pretty sure that my voice has been pretty trite and predictable lately. so i got all in a tizzy and worried that i'm just a dumb, empty person. then i realized that was stupid, because i'm not. neurotic? totally. naive? somewhat. stupid? no, not really.
but i still can't think of anything to say.
posted by DameRight at 10:25 AM
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