Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

i a so overwhelmed by my own self

okay, i have been putting things off too long and letting shit go. i just cleaned up/out my "writing" flash drive that travels between computers, depending on who i am using at the time. i found about 150 poems (YES, more poems) i didn't know i had. stuff i just wrote and stashed and never looked at again, or if i did, it was in a medicated haze that left my memory of it non-existent. of course i also found helpful things, like the Word documents for the books i have/had on, so i can re-format and re-publish a couple of chapbooks that they stopped printing, and go through electronically finding poem titles and such for the spread sheet.

i have nothing online, compared to what i have written. i have enough to publish another damn book. and let me be straight, i don't write bad poetry. no such thing. someone will find it and like it. so i publish everything i have. everything that makes it to the electronic stage and some things that are only handwritten.

allow me to go feed the cats their wet food before i put felix through a wall. or eat him or something nefarious.

oh, so much better, cats are fed and felix is back out for the evening. since it's getting cold, he'll be back around 2am. right before i go to bed. he's a desert cat, a pussy. he's like me, it dips below 70 degrees and he's diving for body heat.

i can't forget to get doc up an hour early tonight. i'm afraid to get into any projects for fear i will forget and he will be late for work. i even have an alarm set in the living room, though i have no intention of napping. he's doing a practice run for his new shift. his company is fond of dry runs. i used to work for a different branch of the company, and they did the same thing there.

Tulip is doing well. doc remains non-committal about her. i suggested a couple of names. Sun Li, Kwan Li, and Starbuck. any of which i would prefer to Tulip. she's so frail, she needs a feminine name, but she's feisty, so Starbuck kind of fits. he is slowly warming up to her. he feels if he loves her like he loved Jack, he is giving up on Jack, and how to tell him, that can never happen. i have hope cats of decades ago will find me. there isn't just one place in your heart for pets, sometimes, with some people, there are a million holes, and you can keep on loving. doc is like that. so am i. i don't love or cry any less for Chloe, or Henry just because it has been years since they passed years ago. i still hear the noise Henry used to make on the drawer of the sideboard. he will figure it out.

i'm telling you, though, i'm going to cuddle that cat tonight. i've ignored her for 24 hours except for the occasional molestation by her, or pet from me and medication time. she is so starved for attention, i had to force feed her the nutri paste because she was too distracted by me to eat it on her own. she didn't mind. didn't fight. i reached over and opened her mouth and squirted it in. she just swallowed and meowed at me.

so i found a publisher to approach, once i am ready to submit my work for publication, if i ever am. i might just publish myself and get ISBN numbers so will sell them. it's costly, but saves a lot of aggravation and lets me stay in control. i don't want to have to rely on anyone else for formating and promotion and design and editing. MY work. I want to do it. just like i will put out my own CDs. once i am ready. that will take . . . i don't know, i haven't tried out my microphone yet (yes, i know, wastededucation, you only sent me that a few years ago). with the laptop i can find a room with good acoustics that is quiet and record in there. the mixing and finishing i have to learn how to do myself. i have the programs to do it with, it's just a matter of teaching myself.

anyway, this publisher, asks that you read one book they have published before approaching them. and in your introduction letter to them, you tell them which book and what you thought of it, what it made you feel. i dig that. that made me want to submit work to them. so i have that to think about. i already know which book i'm going to buy. it's by Daphne Gottleib. i saw here here with the Spit Sisters about 10 years ago and i wouldn't mind getting to know her work better.

the thing about all the black cats, you can't see them at night on the cam. or in the dark hallway, for that matter. one gets them obscured, the other, punted.

okay, it's almost 9. i have time to go out and have a smoke and then spend 2 hours on my poetry before i have to wake doc up. then, if i want to continue through the night, i can. but i doubt i will want to. i may do some recording. i know i've been saying that, but i found a couple pieces today that i REALLY want to perform and have out there. i'm sure i'll find more over the next two hours.

have a good evening. something tells me this isn't goodnight, i'll be all full of thoughts and words after i spend an hour in my head of the last decade. oh, and i found a copy of that one piece i thought i'd lost, "Suicide in the Rain". i was so excited to see it, i didn't even read it. i just stashed it away.

" . . . i never had to knock on wood . . . "

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