All this cold weather is a constant reminder

. . .of how much I miss cuddling.  All I want to do is breathe and feel.

I've decided that I'd try basing my blog posts of tweets that I made.  Some of my tweets don't quite make sense in this context but I'll do my best.  This one is brought to you from earlier in the week.

I was feeling quite despondent and took some time on Monday, Columbus Day, to clean my room.  Not clean as in dusting and vaccuuming--I wish I had done that, actually.  But clean as in removing all of the things that remind me of my previous relationship.  I've been single for weeks but there was just so much around my room that I couldn't bring myself to move anything.  Things changed Monday--I got the drive to get nearly everything together in one spot and out of sight.  I'm sure almost all of us can relate to how much it sucks to have constant reminders around your room of something good.  And it was really, really good.  I vowed not to throw anything away and I didn't. Except for a really old, used Dunkin' Donuts hot chocolate cup that had a wonderful message written on it.  Since I'm a sucker for memories, I took a picture of it so I can at least have the message and the idea in picture form forever.
This is where things start to suck.  Two days later, Apple comes out with the iOS5 update for the iPhone.  Of course, I'm excited to upgrade my equipment--especially after reading what would change.  Technology, ever being the fickle bitch, decided to make my life a bit more difficult.  None of my information, pictures, contacts, or apps were backed up in iTunes.  Therefore, when the update was finished and my phone restored to factory settings I had nothing.  All pictures gone. All apps gone. Contacts gone. It was devastating!  Thankfully, I was able to put my contacts back in the phone and found most of the apps I lost.  However, it's those pictures I'll miss the most.  500 pictures of sunsets, laughter and pure wonderfulness.  And that cup that's already in the trash.  Never got a chance to upload it to my computer.
And this happening while I was bemoaning my single-ness.  Two ways to look at it: nothing is on the phone to remind of what was.  I can focus on what is.  Another is that there are memories that i'll never retrieve because technology is fickle.

All I can do now is what I've been doing for the past month--accepting and moving on.

A New Poem and a New Post

"September and October Light"

The sun beats Halloween orange--
sliding behind the clouds
down the sky.
The city is black and unlit
untouched by pulsing sky.
It darkens and is ocean-empty.

Wet, sickly leaves stain the porch--
nauseous brown shadows.
Just gray, damp, slick and brown.
It never blends--just becomes.

There is infinite September light
between us.  Warm and listless
it hovers.
We can feel its heat stagnate the air.
That's September.  That's the sun growing tired--
bursting into orange--igniting
space between the clouds, the city, you and I.

Brown-specked yellow leaves
appear in the morning.  Never orange.
They become the pavement.
There is a little light
glinting in the beads on the gray porch.
September waves from
the leaf stains.
Too bright.  Infinitely between us.


October light glides in the
fog.  In the veins of leaves.
It bursts into orange.
Illuminating the gray
filling the space between
the leaves, the clouds, the sky,
you and I.
~~~

This poem was inspired by the poet Richard Siken's collection Crush.  The book was given to me by a friend for my birthday which was this past Saturday.  I devoured every poem.  His images are so powerful and poignant.  Exactly the kind of poetry I love--the kind that frustrates, teases, and awes.  Siken manages to string together images so well that you have no choice but to follow their siren call.  I love the fact that he keeps returning to certain images in his poem, changing it slightly and therefore there's meaning in the change.  With this poem I wanted to emulate his style.  It also gave me an opportunity to use a line I had dreamed a few weeks ago: "There is infinite September light between us."  I woke up and there it was and at first I had no idea how I could use it.  Then, after reading Siken, who uses light a few times, and after seeing a gorgeous sunset from my class at SSU I knew I could use it.


In other news: it seems like my near-incoherent rant last time bore no fruit.  I have not maintained this blog as I had meant.  Which is unfortunate.  Though I think I have become more inwardly reflective.  When I had Livejournal it was a space for me to get my thoughts out.  Through that vomit I gleaned meaning.  Now, I've noticed that talking is what does it for me--the actual verbal communication with people is what helps me process the day.  Or I sit and reflect inwardly--not on paper or keyboard.  Thoughts for me to chew on until next time!

Better late than never?

I guess it's about time I get started blogging.  Not just for Rhetoric, but for myself.  I used to maintain a livejournal many many years ago and it was the best thing next to sliced bread.  However, that soon simmered and sputtered it's way down the trash-filled lines of the interwebs. 
Blogging has a special place in my heart.  I like reading some blogs and I like maintaining one--somewhat.  I think what has always put me off from blogging is the fact that for some reason I feel like I have to be making a point.  What ever happened to blogging my day's activities down?  Reflecting on what happened during my day? Writing them down so I'll never forget.  I stopped keeping a handwritten journal the summer after high school ended.  My livejournal died two semesters after that.  What went wrong?  Where did that need for blogging go? 
I feel, like email and AIM, that my need for blogging just found another outlet.  For instance, twitter and Facebook  Status updates were the next best thing to blogging!  I could quickly update what I was doing maybe even throw in a little caveat of silly "wisdom" while I was at it.  Same goes for twitter--microblogging I hear it being called.  I must agree.  Being confined to 140 characters is tough for someone as verbose as me. 
The biggest question I have for myself now is if I'll ever be able to get back to that root of blogging/journaling that I so strongly had in high school.  Or if that is completely dead.  No. Not dead--crawling, moaning like a zombie 140 characters at a time.

A new poem?! WHAT?!

“Should Not Have Slept All Day"

This lingering air tells me

I missed a good day.

It is sweet like rain-

spattered sidewalks—metallic.

The street lamps

lend amber light to the night

bringing my eyes down from

the hiding stars.

I’ve missed a good day.

This autumn wind makes my skin

crawl with anxiousness.

Dead leaves in the middle of the night

sound just like their happy

former selves in the middle of summer.

Still, this lingering air taunts and teases me.

I will stay and enjoy this

faint light, goose-bumped skin

and waves of dead leaves rustling

in this lingering air.

Writer's Series

These two poets invigorated my love for spoken word.  Both were starkly different in their style, both reading and writing.  It was refreshing, to say the least.
Dillard's attention to sound and image struck a chord with me.  When she said that she hears a voice I thought she was talking about a character, and she was in a way.  But then she said that it repeats and reverberates and this is how I feel about my process with poetry.  Sometimes I hear a few words or a line that's great and it will just reverberate, or to use her phrase she said after when I got my book signed: "Like a bell ringing."  These voices could definitely be heard through her work.  However, since the poems from The Lost Alphabet had an extended voice that she worked with for so long they felt stronger when she read them aloud.  Like she was again putting on the mask of the lepidopterist.  Very comforting, too, her voice--it did not grate with her poems.
Daniel's energy with his works was something I need to steal.  My poetry does not move very fast (but it does so in a nice, turtle-esque manner).  His work was fast-paced and charged with terrific imagery and sounds like "You dig and you wait in the dark heart of the Earth."  He wove hugely different experiences into one delicious ball of verse.  The braid of literature and musical culture was done splendidly and while I feel that I weave experience into my poems, Daniel's level is one to strive for--one of complete mixture.
I can steal a lot from these poets and will definitely be looking back at the lines and snippets I jotted down for future poems.

Haiku

Here are the haiku I wrote in class from last night's found poetry exercise.

A stone falls--A heart
Alone with two children close
incessant water beats

Ancient kisses and
the same road will sustain me
Sincerely, the earth

And there is a series of haiku that I wrote about waiting--mostly about waiting for the T (buses or trains)

Absentmindedly,
Minutes are lost to waiting.
Wonder where it all goes.

People on the T
are bronze-armored barbarians
Vying for a seat.

I play Tetris with
Thoughtless thumbs--filling in gaps
with L-shaped pieces.

I often forget
that the world whispers to me--
Earphones block it all.

Words burn into my eyes--
my hand stiffens with cold.
Never felt so good.




would love to hear what you all think!

Bird

I was quite a fan of Zhang Er.  However, I think she and I suffer from the same vagueness.  Her verse is gorgeous and the images she sets are pleasing to the mind's eye.  However, I felt like I could not connect to her poetry as well as I could connect with others because of the vagueness.  Also her lines seemed to be clunky and not so smooth.  There were times when this clunkiness made the line stand out.  It mostly served to distract me, though.  I can't say there is much I would steal from Er after perusing her poetry.