August 14th, 2006

2013, cyd, new

dear kam316

we may loose the URL, in fact, we will because i will not have the bank shit worked out by tomorrow. i can't get the money to Network Solutions. i know we haven't done much with it, but i was really thinking that would change once you got here. so i'm just sayin'. that is the situation.

blahhhh blah podcast blah blahhhh blah

i woke up at three thirty after getting up with doc and nodding off at eleven this morning. i took my meds and went right back to bed. now i'm up and i'm all disoriented. i'm trying to work on a new collection of poetry and i just can't find my attention span.

i need to empty the vacuum. doc has a saran wrap suction belt thing going on on the exterior. i need to figure that out. the canister warped a bit when too close to a fire this winter. we learned to keep everything away from the fireplace. so the thing he rigged made the vacuum work better than it did before it got warped. i just don't know the removal procedure. and the vacuum is staring at me, taunting. mother fucker. hee.

i have this thick file of typed and hand written poems that i need to input into this computer of doom. and i don't wanna . . .

i should put my lights up first. that way i don't have to turn the big one on. no, doc has to be here for that. alright then, reading aloud of poetry to see if it makes sense to me. it never makes sense to others. well, rarely. sometimes someone gets it. but only when it's read out loud.

if i did a podcast of spoken word, say work from "stop poking me lady", would you download it? because i'm really thinking about doing the podcast thing.
  • Current Music
    ABBA - Take a Chance
2013, cyd, new

114 pages, damn

i just realized that i have a whole new volume of work to get to know. all poems written on here over the years for safe keeping. they aren't just a little pile of them, there's over a hundred. and i don't know it at all. if i could i'd get it printed out, but now i'm content to scan the pages in Word. i kind of just dismissed it as a few crappy poems i had forgotten because they weren't memorable. but they are. i've found a few i absolutely love. i even found another to put into the manuscript. and i'm not even really into it yet, page 20. this work is more open and crass and reflective of me than "stop poking me lady". more reflective of me now. poking was very me for the time it was written. but the stuff since then has really seemed to reflect what i was feeling and couldn't say. or didn't bother to say. that's why i write. so i can say things i don't dare or don't have the free time to.

i'm just kind of shocked at myself for writing that much and having so much of it so far be right on. i make little corrections. i read them out loud. i still don't punctuate like i should. even though i prefer the spoken, i should give the reader a clue if i'm going to publish the stuff. there are even pieces i want to try to publish outside of my career. just for the ego boost.

i'm in shock. really i am. all the things i could be thinking about and i'm totally focused on this new body of work in front of me. a totally unexpected gift from myself over four years.
  • Current Music
    Rhianna - SOS
2013, cyd, new

is this familiar?

does this sound familiar to anyone? i don't think i wrote it.

unremarkable baked lasagna
flavorless bread smeared with margarine
and sometimes it's the smells
or sometimes it's how she sounds
sometimes i can't even tell you
what takes me down the path
into the part of the forest the witches
don't even care about while
my mind slips and slides like i used to when
i would go to school and try to get hurt on the way
so i would lay in the street and they would be sorry
but that's not irony
that he was laying in the street
and it's not irony
that i was up to the challenge
and i can't relax
and i want to not be so
so i'm a bitch and then i think i feel bad
but i don't because i do it again
and it isn't irony the
way i'm walking in his shoes
and it isn't comfortable
that he's still in them
and i wait for her voice to remind me only of her
where everything happened before
and we are together after
after the growth starts again
after we are ready to at least try to trust someone
and it's not ironic that i can trust her
and it's not ironic she's from the east
then the lasagne is stuck in my teeth
and i even forget her smell
it is all suddenly the antiseptic
and you know it
when you went to the emergency room
that night you ODed
and you find yourself with your face
in the fabric softener to drive the smell away
because with each little flash
the dike is giving way
and it isn't time to cry yet
and it will never be time to relax
and my spine is wound like my watch
the one i overwound because someone told me i couldn't
so twisted so tight
so right below the surface
go ahead and pick a figt
i can take you and your stupid friends
i can leave you too
like you'll leave in the end
i want to lay in the green grass and look up at the stars
it is so different from looking up at the green ceiling
and it's gonna be a blast
seeing which side wins
and when i go down
don't take your eyes off of me
because i will go down

some of it seems completely mine, but details in it don't seem familiar, and why i wouldn't credit it is beyond me.
2013, cyd, new

lost my damn mind

okay, actually most of this stuff strikes me as being too good to be mine. i credit all lyrics and the thing from the previous post wasn't lyrics to anything i know and i can't find it on the internet anywhere. but then i come upon another one and it isn't until the end that i know it's mine. there are certain keywords and phrases that i tend to repeat. and the piece in the previous post has some of those, hence my confusion. this was the wrong thing to do with my wonky memory. but i was careful when i harvested the poems from the archives. rarr-ish.
2013, cyd, new


haHa i figured it out. i went back to the time it was written using my handy lj tags and it was about doc and jess. it was written by me, that is so damn strange.