July 04, 2012


Happy 4th of July, Internet! Although it feels oddly not like July, not like the 4th, and the 4th is my lucky day of any month but whatever. So much surpassed yesterday that I feel compelled to author a post before I head out to find watermelon vodka and an actual watermelon, marry the two, and get completely tanked today with Johnny and Nilla and company. I just need a drunk day. That sounds so miserable and Raymond Carver-inspired but it's true: one middle of the week drunk day in the sea of sober Arena-building days might just be what the doctor has in order.  (Above pictured: tuna tartar with quail egg, Brooklyn, and an excellent pint for $3.50, Manhattan - living the life, I say.)

So yesterday a gamut of things happened. Please note: I feel as though I'm using words with which I'm unfamiliar of their meaning and spelling: surpass, compel, gamut. But I'm not in the mood for worrying about word usage so so be it. Primarily, I heard from Greg. Hm. That is not the primary instance of yesterday but it did happen, and my heart did thump differently and I have no idea if/when I will ever see him again but at least he didn't clamber off my radar never to be mentioned again. And each word he wrote crossed me as deliberate, as always, and I'm wondering slightly if I am coming across in my communications as too busy to have any involvement with him. This may be the case. I do not mean to, however my life is completely swollen with many things and perhaps I should find him, sit next to him and explain that my feelings for him are strong enough that he could slide into one of my rare priority slots. I don't know. I just don't know.

Really, the main (actual primary) thing that happened yesterday is that I fell again and am falling, again and again and again and again, head over heels in love with poetry. I would give anything for poetry. Suzanne has asked me to take the charge on communicating with an organization very institutional to New York called The Poetry Project and so I reached out to my incredible professor Sharon from the New School (who is now also teaching at Brooklyn College and who by far pressed significance to the essence of my life both in my New School course with her and in my independent studies with her; she fucking raises the bar when it comes to excellent poetry constructive criticism and I've never met anyone like her, ever) and Sharon immediately replied that of course she knows someone affiliated with The Poetry Project and right away, emails fluttered about and I managed to make contact with her contact. Suzanne was proud, and now I must introduce her somehow to Sharon because while bragging I did drop that Sharon studied under Ginsberg which sent Suzanne, who wrote a thesis paper on The Beats, into a frenzy. God, sometimes life just makes sense.

So much communication happened yesterday regarding poetry that it sunk and soared my heart. I am elated to think I may become an intrinsic member of an elite party I would call "the poets" someday. Maybe not now? But perhaps soon. Suzanne and I were back and forth about the creative process and about its highs and lows, and I mentioned needing desperately to somehow pool all of my poetry. I need to, so badly. These precious entities are so alone at this point - they may be back to back on pages in a notebook, or perhaps they coexist on the same shelf, but they don't know one another. Not now. They need to. And there is only one conduit to make that happen, who is madly typing this blog entry right now.

I am so desperately in love with poetry. I cannot quantify or qualify my feelings for it. There is no such measure. I walk each day with lines of poetry forming in my brain. I literally cannot focus my eyes on something without a piece of poetry writing itself. This might sound awkward, like a syndrome of some sort or a damage to my mind, but it impacts me more than anything else could hope to do. Someday this damage will manifest itself and someone will treasure it? But for the moment, all I know is that I wake up every day next to it - it tugs at me, and it keeps me strong.


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