May 8th, 2015

2013, cyd, new

Hi kids

36 seconds. 36 seconds and sound effects applied to my voice electronically. Did I mention it's only 36 seconds long? Not even a minute out of your life.

I shared it, I tweeted it. No shares, no comments, no faves, no retweets, no listens. I worked hard on this 36 seconds. Someone fucking appreciate it, goddammit!

I really can't think of what to do. I read an extensive article on marketing for introverts last night. The advice? Get over it for a few hours every day and do the usual marketing shit. Do you know why I don't do the usual marketing shit? Because it makes you come off like a douchebag. Like all you care about is money and your "art", whatever it is, is just a means to the end of money. No matter how skilled, a marketer always comes off like a used car or snake oil salesman. All they talk about is their brand and how valuable their time is. I'm not a brand, I'm a human. And my ideas and execution of them is what I consider valuable. And I'm not after money, I'm after exposure. So typical marketing is not for me. Some aspects, yes. I can advertise myself fairly well, it just doesn't seem to work for me. And it's not like I'm getting negative feedback.

It all gets back to the invisible thing. I am invisible online. Mostly.

I got hassled by some Limbots (Rush Limbaugh fanatics) on Twitter last night. Blocked about 7 people. They were trying to connect me with an account of a Kansan girl with bipolar. It's cute they think I'm bipolar. It takes more than devastating mood swings to power this train. Even they didn't listen to the Soundcloud link they were passing around, not even to go and leave annoying comments. Even to my enemies, my artistic voice is invisible.

Okay, I just did an art thing, it didn't work. But I've broken open the 16"x16" canvas boards now, so I have no excuse not to knock out a few paintings this weekend. I've got a bunch of abstracts building up in me. I could let them out and run wild on the canvas boards. I've got a dozen of them. I thought of making all 12 connect in pattern/theme, but that idea bored the hell out of me.

Listen, if we're friends on Facebook, and it is your inclination to see me win at something using my talents, please share my Soundcloud and Clammr links. I'll try to keep them short and sweet. And no dirty language, you are exempted from helping me promote the Pussy Poem. That one sells itself. It got a 9.2 out of ten in the slam I performed it in. Some 30+ uses of the word pussy. And it's funny. But don't worry about that one. Just . . . please help me. I'm asking. Taking a chance. I'm doing that a lot lately. I Tweeted Amanda Palmer my Soundcloud link today, asking her to listen to my noise, letting her know that any feedback would be "mind blowing". It's her own fault for writing that damned book. Read that book. I'm only 38% through it, and it has totally changed my attitude toward my art.

For my part, I will start looking for a human or two near me that attend the rounds of open mics and general readings down town and make friends with them and eventually go back to performing. Because of my teeth, I'm really tempted to do a Sia thing and face away from the audience, but I can't. I must connect with my audience. Make eye contact, check reactions, hear murmurs. Maybe I'll get a veil, that should go well with my typical cross-dressing. Maybe I can get a flannel veil.
2013, cyd, new


I think maybe I've had enough of the web tonight. I just completed a Twitter rant regarding the lack of interaction. I hope I piss some people off and they unfollow me. I want to get rid of the dead weight. I unfollowed a few accounts that spend all of their time promoting themselves and never promote anyone else. I also got rid of a few accounts that use a delay app to post inspirational quotes, all by a particular author and entrepreneur I was following. He created the app. Or paid to have it created in his "brand name". He's one of the ones who's name is his brand, or his brand is his name or whatever. He turned from a functioning human being into a thing. A completely self-serving thing. Also got rid of some DJs and bands who only promote their own art, who's work I have been promoting with no reciprocation for at least a year. I'm done. I'm looking for a community that works together. I want to be a part of something.

I was hoping to build that something on social media, but it's been three years, and I'm finally humble enough to join someone else's thing.

No one will give me feedback (except seaivy, who did) of any real measure, no one will just tell me that I suck. And after so much silence over so many years of trying so many things, I have to assume that I suck. I'm not funny. I'm not interesting. I'm not an enigma (well, not here, obviously, but I try to be on Twitter). I'm just some chick three weeks out from her 46th birthday who should really look into job rehabilitation for the disabled because I am fooling myself with this poetry jazz.

Even the Poetry account will not retweet me! They retweet people talking about watching slam poetry on youtube all night, but won't actually retweet my slam poetry links on youtube. How am I supposed to feel? I feel about this - high. That's how I feel. I've been published in anthologies and on countless poetry sites that took submissions and judged them before posting them. And none of that matters. I even name dropped The Discovery Channel with the posting of the link to the "Pussy Poem". I don't tell that story often, but I pulled it out tonight.

In case you haven't been around long enough, right after the Pussy Poem was written, I decided on the spur of the moment to read it at a slam. It was filmed by a Discovery Channel documentary film crew. I had a long talk with the Producer about alternate words, other than "pussy", and decided that there really wasn't any other word that would work. He tried to use it anyway. Standards and Practices (the censors) were unable to reconcile the generous usage of the word in question, and the piece was nixed. Bummer for me. But it was a self-esteem builder. That was when that poem became my signature piece. 2001 or 2002.

So I had my little Twitter freak out and hopefully the winds of my impotent rage will blow away some of the chaff from my followers list.

Over on Facebook, everyone is busy "liking" a selfie I posted yesterday. Joy.