Month: January 2010

Sucky Sonnet Sunday

mayiwrite miscellany, my life, writing , ,

I sit in a chair where my desk is strong
My mind turns its gears all the day long
This isn’t as smart as it seems to be
My mind needs focus, tied to this oak tree

I slump at this desk that keeps me stable
My heart is willing, but weak and unable
This isn’t as smart or elementary
Untether my heart, it longs to be free

I sit, I cry, I laugh, I stand, I breathe
One day I rejoice, and the next day I seethe
I want to be grounded to certainty
I need to fly high with nothing to see

The mind will always struggle with the heart
I’d cease to exist if they tore apart.

From Early This Evening, Wilkinson Center Computer Lab

mayiwrite my life, new york city , , ,

Hey, are you from New York?

Um, yes?

I know you from somewhere…

Hey, yeah! You’re totally [a former seminary student]!

You were my seminary teacher!

Wow.

I have to go, but can I get your number?

Sure, it’s [my phone number]. How have you been?

Good! My ride is here –

Call me –

But I’ll call you.

Awesome.

***

Being here is still so incredibly surreal.

From Early This Evening, Wilkinson Center Computer Lab

Folks

mayiwrite advice, friends, my life ,

I’m fine. I go through little bouts of loneliness and self-pity, and it wasn’t nice of me to fall silent for a couple days on such a melancholy note. Things are looking up.

For those who provided advice and encouragement and support, thank you.

I’ve been offered a job where I can work from home. It involves writing (yay!), but it limits me creatively somewhat (meh). But it’s cash flow, which is what I need.

Another company also extended another round of interviews for hiring in New York City, and I let them know where I am and declined the offer. She said she’d let me know if they’re looking for anyone to work from home.

These both happened on Monday, after I boo-hooed, and during the time many of you asked how I was doing, making sure I was okay. I do have to say that was the quickest hour of intense misery I’ve ever experienced.

Again, thank you.

Yesterday I went to the gym, and today I can not wash my hands without feeling the burn in all my major muscle groups.

I hope I recover quickly.

Fast One

mayiwrite miscellany, my life, weekend , , , ,

I feel it first in my shoulders as the force forward pushes my torso backward. My hips, a fulcrum, slide with the rest of my body, and a slight but firm pressure molds my posture to the surface behind me.

It’s cold outside, and I’m wearing layers to compensate. My ungloved hands feel the soft leather. All the upholstery is perfectly detailed; it still smells new.

Time slows down when you’re going this fast. My haunches rest upon, reverberate with, absorb some of the vibration, the power, as we poke a tiny hole through space, nearing warp speed.

I gasp with the initial lurch. The thrust triggers a small, steady stream of adrenaline. My hands sweat, my eyes dilate. I begin to laugh.

The velocity feels as if it’s reached a magical resonance level; I’ve never felt my entire body hum this way.

I turn my head slowly. The mountains remain fixed, but barely. Everything else – closer, slower – is a blur.

I crane my neck to look. He tells me not to look, but I see enough of the needle moving further clockwise and am conscious enough of the local law, and I am well aware of his eyes on the road and my racing heart and my imagining the other cars shudder or their mouths drop open and lose their … transmissions completely, to realize I am having a great time. I can’t stop laughing.

He slows down, turns the car around, and we do it again.

It’s even better this time.

So We’re Still in the Poetry Unit

mayiwrite music, writing , , , , ,

And when the instructor begins the class by having us to listen to the Decemberists and Radiohead and Andrew Bird, I almost cry.

This is so cool.

School is great.

Lyrics to the songs whose names I caught below. How do the formal elements tie into their meanings?

“Fake Plastic Trees” – Radiohead

Her green plastic watering can
For her fake Chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth
That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get rid of itself

It wears her out, it wears her out
It wears her out, it wears her out

She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns
He used to do surgery
For girls in the eighties
But gravity always wins

It wears him out, it wears him out
It wears him out, it wears him out

She looks like the real thing
She tastes like the real thing
My fake plastic love
But I can’t help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run

It wears me out, it wears me out
It wears me out, it wears me out

If I could be who you wanted
If I could be who you wanted all the time

All the time…
All the time…

“Measuring Cups” – Andrew Bird

Get out your measuring cups and we’ll play a new game
Come to the front of the class and we’ll measure your brain
We’ll give you a complex and we’ll give it a name

Get out your measuring cups and we’ll play a new game
Can’t have the cream when the crop and the cream are the same
Liquid or gas no more than the glass will contain

When you talk about the hand of glory
A tale that’s rather grim and gory
Is it just another children’s story that’s been de-clawed?
When the tales of brothers Grimm and Gorey have been outlawed

I think they’re gonna make you start over
You don’t want to start over
Put your backpack on your shoulder
Be the good little soldier
Take your places now
‘Cause we’re all predisposed

Measuring cups, play a new game
Front of the class, measure your brain
Give you a complex and we’ll give it a name

When you talk about the hand of glory
A tale that’s rather grim and gory
Is it just another children’s story that’s been de-clawed?
When the tales of brothers Grimm and Gorey have been outlawed

Put your backpack on your shoulder
Be the good little soldier
It’s no different when your older
You’re predisposed
That’s all for questions now
The case is closed!