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.