2.21.13 thoughts on alt lit and poetry

i.

love comes in waves but i would rather it  be a constant gentle whirring

a white noise humming gently lulling everyone

to forget its presence

          its there under the surface

helping us sleep or relax or live

iia.

sometimes i wish i never went to college

i did this before college

and it’s not like college is responsible for my craft

it was like joining the most expensive book club known; with contests held every few weeks for written work on the read work and yeah; but more like swimming b/c that’s always a contest between yourself and the clock

iib. 

alt lit: it's hard to know/recognize sincerity (don't get me wrong; i love irony, but i find it hard/disengenous to pull off) 

alt lit: a warm embrace by a community of people looking for a voice amidst confusion

i have always believed that any one can write and read poetry

which makes it so beautiful

but of course i am speaking with bias

iii. 

w/e you decide to label it, poetry is embedded in humanity itself

we produced poems long before anything else

ancient rhythms/modern rhythms/post modern rhythms

all signifiers

to indicate a time, a cursor blinking on a line of data of human history

somehow i think we moved away from this

as a result of war and technology

but alt lit is a way to give poetry back to humanity

to bring it back to the vernacular

allowing the mundane/fascinating story of this century to be told

we live during simultaneous wars

i don't think the romantics ever could have imagined something more frightening than tuberculosis (the “a bomb”; “drones”; “aids”; “world war”; “famine”; “malaria”...et al)

iv. 

this is all i can do

all i have ever done

as long as i can remember

so...

v.

i want to write about love and triumph and defeat of neo barbarians

i want to write a love poem to your consciousness that you share with me

i want to write a love poem to the singular and the masses

i want to write to a world that doesn’t yet exist and make it into existence with my fiction

i want to tell a story of love and triumph

but i already said that

vi.

i was never comfortable with irony

in terms of audience reception

like do you think they’ll get it?

who cares says my other self;

they are 2 sides to one coin

for lack of a better metaphor

see: taoism

see: buddhism

the middle path

between darkness and light

epilogue:  

i have given away so many of my possessions and i always feel light weight afterwards

and i think some other girl will be able to wear that dress and feel confident like i did when i used to wear that dress

free writing 2.26.13

you know what phrase really grinds my gears?

"it's just business"

like ok
that's why we had to create ethics
if it were just as the phrase says
then there is no room for humanity
it is quantified as just business:
harsh and cold and just a way to turn a profit, the bottom line

them's the breaks
fist hired first fired

humanity turned itself into a commodity
by virtue of its own greed

isn't that fun?

it isn't any wonder that monotheisms had a rule about that
and buddha
and parshva

stepping back
to look at the colorful circus of our world
it isn't any wonder that people love capatalism;
this is mine,
i earned it,
i worked hard,
i have ownership b/c some bytes were sent hither tither to me as a result of hours i was at some place doing an assigned task...

yeah

i have nothing against work. i actually like it; when it's rewarding. isn't that the trick?
and you aint gonna find that reward at the bottom of the customer service barrel


but..

to hold onto possessions as if they aren't as ephemeral as our lives is...strange

i remember cleaning out my grand mother's possessions
she was a nurse during world war II
and her pictures were lovely
photographs of her and my grandfather and cocktail parties
she had lovely scarves
and i took some with me and some other things
but we still had to donate or throw a lot away

so sometimes all i can think of is the waste
but it's so much more waste than even my grandparents b/c of disposable/obsolete technology and plastics
i think of alien archaeologists digging into landfills and puzzling about the "humans that once lived here"
monuments to waste
waste mounds
ancient burial mounds of waste

2.21.13

love comes in waves but i would rather it  be a constant gentle whirring

a white noise humming; gently lulling everyone

to forget its presence

              there under the surface

helping us sleep or relax or live 

traditional blogging is tough

hey i promise not to forget about this space. it's just that sometimes this blank page in the blogger editor is overwhelming, but i am going to be better about it. until then here are some gifs i made:

LYL: my first ebook

I have been attracted to the alt lit light, so I made an ebook:

pdf file: LYL an alt lit pdf.pdf

read/share/enjoy

this mass and the universe

love poem march 21.2012

i wanted to write you a poem
i wanted to tell you
from across the water
from this rock to the other
that it was
not true
but i could not
and you could not
and you can not

i wouldn’t know what else to do
but write these lines broken with words
b/c i am not good with words
i am not good with anything
my heart or yours

i wanted to write you a love letter
into the screen and onto yours and i don’t even know if
you
open
my emails
but i wanted to be with you in the north
and i wanted to live with you in the north
and i wanted to love with you in the north

i can only write
badly
me:
a castaway
a castoff
and is this a love letter

your body is like a ghost in mine
and i can not let it go
my mind visits you in my sleep
i visit you in my sleep
and we are happy in my sleep
we are together in my sleep
we are not lonely and sad
in my sleep

is this a poem
is this a love poem

is this something that you will read

i can not know

i was walking across a highway on a blue bridge and i thought of you
my eyes keep getting hot and they burn
and i have not been able to be happy
since you’ve decided this
the worst fate
was so sudden

is it love yet
is it too long
have i changed your mind

i have been on this rock for 3 months
and i want to be back in your long arms
in the longest arms of love

internet relationship irl

you let me be what i am on the inside
that i can't be on the outside
how many hours have we spent together

looking at lists
of data

i stroked keys to get
the right results

you held my hand
while i held myself

made me infinite playlists
lent me part of your audience

introduced me to strangers
and sometimes creeps
but it's not your fault
that you attract a certain type

we are so intimate
like the earth & its galaxy;
      a galaxy & its black hole;
     this mass & the universe.

LYL

IJWTS

AAMOF LTA

♥♥♥♥

2NYT 4U:

A&F IOW, ADED IOW, AIMH IOW, ITALY IOW, LUWAMH, IOW LYTD

♥♥♥♥

/THREAD

3 am love poem Fri 18 May

she made it so she destroyed it
we were at her mercy of suggestion
love happened at their surprise

you’re ghosting me around the city at the corner of 10th and Reed
my own house holds your ghost
slipping an arm around my shoulders on the couch
i stumble around my kitchen and fumble for
missing knives

sleep is elusive at this hour
working off of quinn’s table
wiles is under the impression that love still exists
he said he saw true hearts in ours
working in a wild way
like the weeds growing from plastic blue buckets in my concrete back yard

love

love WILL tear us apart again
b/c it’s that word
4 letters

so heavy

like

fuck/cunt/hate

i think love is the heaviest 4 letter word
and it will tear us apart underneath its pressure

of connotation
false connection
entrapment;

words are both neutral bodies of symbols and boxes at the same time