I’m having trouble writing today. Hi, world. It’s been a while since I’ve been at the blogging thing, in major part because I’ve been working on my MFA and feverishly writing as much poetry as possible. Also because life has gotten busy, because I write for work, etc, etc.
But today, as in most days, I woke up early, made coffee, and sat down to read poems before working on my own, and after a while I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t think words on the page. I found myself scrolling through newsfeeds, again and again shocked/horrified/saddened by what’s going on in my state, and in the world at large.
Here’s a run-down:
- Earlier this week, bombings in Brussels, Belgium killed many.
- #Drumpf was carted out across major news syndicates, spouting his bigotry, xenophobic sweeping statements, and general inarticulateness.
- And, yesterday, the state I live in (NC) passed a bill through its Congress that would allow people/businesses/organizations to discriminate against members of the LGBTQIA community, and repeal a more local ordinance protecting the rights of trans people to use the bathroom that best suits their needs.
I’m so fed up with all this. Each day, the world seems like a scarier place. Each day, America seems like a scarier place, like the fucking Twilight Zone, and I want to be all zen and love and light and shit about it, but instead I keep getting riled up. And I keep not being able to write what I want – that is to say, new poems – which is unimportant in the grand scheme of things but desperately important to me.
I think about writing politicos pieces, and at times I have, but they fall so short. I feel much about these events; I have no distance.
It’s a bit of a rant today but, at the moment, that’s all I have.
Lately, there have been a lot of feelings. A lot of ups and downs, of all kinds. I’m beginning to get used to this whole MFA thing (which I am simultaneously loving, and being inspired by, and also feeling as though I completely do not deserve to be here).
I hear that if you’re in a group meditation, sometimes you can kind of coast the meditative, collective high, that it and those around you elevate you. This MFA thing Continue reading
I feel strangely un-talkative lately. Quiet. A throwback to the years I spent buried in books, perhaps; while I still love a good story I’m hardly able to read the way I used to.
Anyway, I felt like this was kind of momentous, at least for me…to have written 300 posts in the last two years, many of them much more exciting that this one. But I’m tired, and I’ve finished my finals until the next semester, and I am just tired (I think) [e.e. cummings reference, anyone?] Continue reading
What I Mean to Say But Haven’t
After Jhumpa Lahiri’s Survivorman
Here’s a truth: the first time you kissed me up against my car
after dinner at that Mexican dive, I kept my eyes open and watched
an old man hold the door for his wife, stooped behind her walker. Continue reading
There’s springtime, so short
between winter and summer you can’t blink
or you’ll miss it flying by. And it is flying,
the spring; everything’s in the air…insects drunk Continue reading
Here’s a first: I was talking to S. last night about how I haven’t written much in a while and how that’s just a little bit problematic…then I dream-wrote a poem last night. Continue reading
So I’m reading Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird for the umpteenth time because my goal is to write in my copy as much as my favorite Creative Writing professor has written in hers (that’s not really why, but I’m a little short on inspiration lately and Bird by Bird always has good advice). Anyway, I’m on the chapter about characters. It never fails to spark my writing thoughts, mostly because I have trouble creating flawed characters. I protect mine too much, and Anne Lamott talks about why it is you can’t do that, what happens in your stories when you shelter them. This all got me thinking about Holden Caulfield and Catcher in the Rye… Continue reading