Saturday, May 7, 2011
Well, there it is, an open-window night. It felt so fresh to have the air blowing in off the sea as I dreamt of sand and suntan oil and the other pleasures of summer. I have a cologne that smells like the beachy time of my life. It is (aptly) called "Beach."
Busy day today at the author co-op. And my hubby is being a good grandfather by going to pick up our grandson who just finished off his first year of college. Whew. He is a great guy (well both of them). Sunshine streaming through the stained glass in the bathroom makes the whole day seem holy.
Will I get to write today? Probably not, but will tuck a notebook into my bag just in case I get an itch to begin something new. It's great to be a writer....never a time when one can claim boredom. I once had the HORRID experience of being "out and about" with no paper. I felt like I was missing an arm... had to write in the margins of a newspaper. SO now, I go prepared wherever and whenever.
Off to the co-op. Hanging out with authors is a treasure.
Worked a bit on my latest project last night after hubby was in bed. I think I can say this is (so far) the most interesting project. I have an interest in what the "boyfriends" will think of these poems, whether in some cases they will recognize themselves in the poems that do not get specific. Curios. Very.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
I have spent a large part of today (a very grey and drippy one) reorganizing my poems into a more manageable file system on my computer. It is a job long needing doing and only a fourth done at this juncture. I found a few poems that need more work and I was surprised (pleasantly) to find some I had written that are good enough to send out, but never sent out. It was a little like going through old photo albums.
So I am thinking sunny thoughts about my writing and eager to get back to work on that now that I have recovered from Poetry Month with its myriad of activities. I am digging through the files to find some poems I wrote a while ago that I think will fit into The Boyfriend Project. One in particular is about an experience of taking ballroom dance classes at the community center with a boy named Omar. He and I were partners, arranged by our mothers. I have found him again after many years and we have agreed to "have a dance" at the next class reunion. This project is a ray of sunshine to me and a nice exploration into my coming of age as a sensual being, a person who knows how love goes, both for the good and the not-so-good. Wait until I get to the negative boys... and there are a few. Fortunately the years have softened even the not great experiences.
How lucky I am to have this thing, this "beloved art" to make sense of life. It is a great comfort and a grand passion. Sounds sappy? Not. It is the pulse of it, the flow of electricity it raises, the reason to be sunny even on the greyest of days.
Today I renew my passport. I hate having my picture taken as I somehow hardly recognize myself. It's like listening to yourself on tape... who the hell IS that person?
I wish we could find a way to identify ourselves other thing than by means of passports or drivers' licenses. Can there be some kind of artsy way? How about presenting our poems at checkpoints in the airport, at borders? My Uncle Bobby does a very subversive thing when he is asked for his "card" in a restaurant: he will put his blood donor card in the folder with the bill. Always a laugh of confusion on the part of the waiter or waitress. But he has a point.
Well, this is a silly enough topic to start off today. Maybe later I will have more brain cells working together.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
So, loads of items in the news... dubious items to be sure but interesting enough to keep us poets in material for a long time.
Personally I am considering the throw the body into the sea part of the Bin Laden story as some prime material. And why there is "joy" and dancing in the streets over killing him... yes a bad man, evil, ruthless, etc. But to rejoice is a bit over the top in my mind. Rather something more dignified might be in order. Seems a bit like the Munchkin song in OZ after the WWW had a bucket of water dumped on her. Hmmm.... was it SEA water? Maybe a parallel there. See how bizarre is the mind of the poet....
At any rate, there is much we can plug in to our gratitude outlets. No more of his threatening and inciting. No more videos of him with weapons and plain backgrounds while he makes his insanity public. I do appreciate that he is gone, and the Navy certainly did its job. I hope we will have an immediate drawdown of troops from the region now. Time. It is time.
Now to the May flowers portion of this broadcast:
I can report a popping sound in the yard (inaudible to all but animals, birds, and poets) as tulips throw their faces up to the sun and hyacinths display their pretty petticoats for all to admire. I am almost to the point in the season where the windows are open at night. Oh I do love that part of spring/summer. I am ready for a road trip to my favorite beach (York Harbor) with a notebook, my camera (how many times can one person photograph this place you ask) I never tire of the sounds and smells and feeling of the beach. And I had my first ice cream stop already... to Round Top in Damariscotta... the only place other than Brown's in York Beach where I can find frozen puddin' flavor. YUM. Worth a small road trip to get some. I think I need some ice cream poems. I might as well re-read The Emperor of Ice Cream. Have you read this? Go, NOW, find it online and read. I'll wait.....
My new book is technically "out" though not in bookstores yet. I have them for sale myself so please feel free to get out your checkbook and order one. It seems funny to me that when a book comes out I am of necessity a saleswoman. I wish there was a way to just "beam up" copies to folks who want them. I am particularly proud of this new collection. It was fun to write these poems and they fell together like old chums into the manuscript. sometimes it is a struggle... you write and write and look for some kind of connection between the poems that might lend itself to a manuscript. Some poems are rogues, loners, shy about showing up in public. Some seem too risky to go out in full view. But these were of a single mind it seems. Well, let's just say you ought to judge for yourself.
On a side note, I desperately need a hair make-over. I am shaggy to the point of annoyance. I look in the mirror and see the 70's... not good. I need a more modern look. HELP! But here's the thing... once you cut, curl, dye, alter, it is a LONG time before you can "fix" an iffy hair situation. I am so bold sometimes in what I write, but get all wobbly over the hair. Go figure. Maybe no risk right now... just same ole same ole until I find just the right look. Silly. I really do want to go in a new direction. BUT I have some readings etc coming up and I am thinking the safer road might be the way... SUCH ambivalence. Make a decision. Is it too early for a drink?