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Update from Depression

Nov. 10th, 2009 | 12:57 pm

I slept in today. I did write, but I wanted to run, and I wasn't feeling the writing.

I haven't written nearly enough. 2 and half measly short pieces. Haven't worked on Immortality in months. I feel like a failure.

Looks like I decided too late in the year to go back to school. Should never have even sought after that "promotion" and just stayed in Cambridge. Though it's true that I had reached the breaking point there, that should have been an indication to a) look for a new job and b) start at that point to think about graduate school. That's another four months of my life to add to the "almost complete waste" pile.

I have time to either run or eat. So I guess I should eat. Every interaction of my life with reality is a depressing one.

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FUCK

Aug. 28th, 2009 | 01:28 am

I have been gainfully employed for WELL OVER a year and haven't bought "The Young Ones" on DVD yet!

GOD

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First "Top Chef"-related rant of the year!

Aug. 27th, 2009 | 02:01 am

Ok, so for the second elimination challenge, one of the women complained to the camera that she didn't like the "battle of the sexes" motif citing, as her reason, that whichever sex you are [O! O! Way to present that only biological sex matters! Way to rag on all the transgendered people! - ed.] shouldn't matter. FUCK YOU. If you follow the logic instead of regurgitating whatever you learned from some protester's pamphlet ten years ago COMPOUNDED by the fact that in the vast majority of all past elimination challenges, teams are chosen randomly, designation by sex should be regarded as arbitrary as any other biologically-based classification system you can imagine. Unless you also want to side with ageists, heightist, fuckitallist complaint, you should fucking deal. Ok, ok, the producers MAY be sexist, BUT to get a chip on your shoulder over what amounts to as truly arbitrary classification -- IF you recognize that both sexes are equal, then their division and competition shouldn't matter any more than drawing a line in shoe-size -- you need to shut the fuck up.

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The Dull Flame of Desire

Aug. 6th, 2009 | 01:00 am

The desire to finish Ulysses tonight or to drink? Both are strong, the latter will make it more difficult but not impossible to get up and run in ca. 11 hours.

Nabokov and the way he is against the incorporation of theory into one's writing would have me believe that I cannot, through my writing, incorporate my artistic goals? Is it important to have these goals defined? I think that the Irwin book has gotten me too caught up. Irwin had a significant portfolio before he arrived at a way to explore his purely artistic goals within his work rather than the exploration of where those goals may lie. "Goals" is too demonstrative a word, but I know what I mean.

Does all art have an aesthetic principal? Must it?

I need to eat, anyway.

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Easy Realism

Aug. 1st, 2009 | 02:39 pm

Revision of the poem.

Easy Realism

Find me, find me over outstretched hands,
that official animosity, its persistent vagaries,
the day to day pageant, flung to each man
their collusion, these blistering fallacies
that strike like a match.

Make me stop reading the same words daily
and devouring monotony. No, that’s
what I want you to preserve; I want your every
prominence, your profligacy, your sparrow laugh,
the way you spin your diction to gold –
no, it’s not quite so rough, more hewn, more bold.

The day after we met was catastrophe and bright,
no cloud immense in the same old day to day,
those stolid day-etched shadows, and the sight
of every woman who sat across me on the train
paled to you, wept misery, trembled, was ashamed!

The sun is the black of your hair and your eyes
are every rock and tree and bird in the sky.
Look at me writing this, look over and over me
like you look out from your porch, that deck facing east,
when you tell me the stories of the Boston impenetrable
storms that forge disaster on everything imaginable
then cease.

I’ll act as if none of this matters, but everything
insists this into existence, everything that looms
into remembered starlight and the smell of June
and uncomfortably standing, standing, standing.

I can let you know my bed is completely mismade
and I nightly kick the quilt from my legs and sway
with the whiskey I do my best not to trouble and
perch it on my nightstand outcropping like a pelican,

and that church bells sometimes wake my reverie
and I remember you, hearing you speaking behind
a door, and I flutter like a sparrow disjointedly
sometimes, and I want your other stories sometimes,
and I’ve completely mismade my head, and better,
I sometimes wonder how these supplicant letters
will sound on your mouth, or during bright days
on the train, during storms, in June, while bells chime
distantly, behind a door, through whiskey, as you lay
on my bed, when you speak as a memory, through time.
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The Hunt

Jul. 30th, 2009 | 02:08 am

I am reminded that one of the natures that I am drawn to examine through these actions is the nature of support, as in, how to reconcile how what I do to support my art with what I produce and am. This was most starkly pointed out to myself when I annunciated my progress with the company: a year ago all my requirements were that I was college-educated, nice, and willing to learn -- no concierge experience or even related experience, really, in the slightest -- and now I'm a well-regarded, by my bosses anyway, supervising concierge at a pretty upscale property. What developments are more important? In what ways is it important that I have made this growth as opposed to or instead of other types of growth or growth in other manners? The encompassment of my "professional" (so-quoted as I profess, no quotes, that I am an artist) reality may not have completed its full burgeoning yet. I guess Monday's going to be very exciting for me!

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Turning and Turning

Jul. 30th, 2009 | 01:30 am

This Irwin book has really energized me. It has energized me in a way I have longed to be eneergized, indeed, in the way that I in my citing my reasons for moving here I listed as among if not the primary. It is not just the demiurgic imprimatur that I discovered and neglected -- avoided or otherwise abdicated the opportunity to, in any sense didn't do -- to explore at Ithaca that was somewhat genitive within me at the end of that long depression, and which remains insufficiently unexplored (though maybe I was too naive, too uneducated and not widely enough read to tackle it, but I could and should have) but the very generative impulse and declination that discussion, thought, and exploration demands as a vine demands water.

(The nature of demand! What a fantastic poetic linguistic impulsion; see it in a poem soon: to demand, it demands, the rain demands, everything. Later.)

Irwin denuded himself intentionally for his demiurgic purposes those trappings of a social environment and behavior that I long for, feel I need. It is not so much a question of the reassessment of this desire or need, though reassessments are abounding, but whether I can make the most of this pit; whether I can implement this ostracization, this exile, for it does feel as one, (though not self-inflicted as was Irwin's if ever unconsciously; is that the clew?) for the same purposes and, much more to the point and more importantly, effect he did his.

Lots of reflections from these sussurrations.

Very glad that this is the time I've decided to reapproach Thomas. There are some key components I should address that I've never before done in this leavening as well: Goethe, Ibsen -- people, help me out with what poetry I haven't read before that I should now do, I'm looking more for 19th century and earlier, but any knockouts I'll examine. e.e. cummings is one, for sure.

My issues with the beginning of the hyper-textual pieces and why I haven't done anything is because I felt uneducated, stupid in terms of their execution. But who else has done this, and from what example, other than horizontal one, can I draw. Learn by doing! (But keep learning too. Need to read up, but what else is new?)

I'll probably never want for a gift suggestion should anyone ask: any well-written biography of any modern artist.

I've been way too emo in how I approach my art -- thank fuck that I didn't become so in what I've produced. It's never been about expression, and how I've hated that some insist that it must and always have! What am I exploring in Immortality? I know it's worthwile, I just need to get to exploring it instead of nancing about like a five-cent tight-jeaned Allston corner jag. This attitude will well-serve "At First," haha!

Lots of other things. The importance is in the thinking. As interesting as the conversations with myself are, I need to find someone with whom to have a conversation. Volunteers, step forward.

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Workworkworkwork

Jul. 24th, 2009 | 05:06 pm

Why am I not working on "At First" right now?

I need to find motivation to reengage Immortality or get off the pot. But am I ready to write To the River Its Ashes yet? I don't think so. What about The Estranged? I should reexamine that.

Soooo much opportunity to write coming up. It'll get sorted.

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Time-passing Survey

Jul. 23rd, 2009 | 08:12 pm

behind the cutCollapse )

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500

Jun. 17th, 2009 | 10:41 pm

Tonight, the Red Sox became the first team in MLB history to sell out 500 consecutive games. That's a little more than six years, and the only players on the active 25-man roster to have been around before the streak started are Jason Varitek, Tim Wakefield, and David Ortiz. Tonight was also Brad Penny's 100th career win, so congratulations to him as well!

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