Getting something written is like a buncha shots of espresso and it just makes me want to write write write write write write write! write!! write and what the ever living...it's 2am. You know? Like, why don't I just do this in the morning and live a normal productive day-dwelling life?
Anyway, my minds already racing, so I may as well type something out for the hell of it. I've been thinking about my own writing a lot lately. Dennis was giving me some details about applying for grad schools and having some weird sort of artist statement thought out. Since it doesn't seem quite pro enough to say, "I write poetry cuz it's fun and it sounds good when I chew on it and sometimes it makes me feel clever," I figured I should think about what I'm doing or who I am or at least something buzzy to say in an artist statement. PICK ME PICK ME PICK ME!!! Maybe too desperate? I'll find the right angle eventually.
I remember this one time in creative writing class at CCD when I wrote a piece of fiction and I verbed a noun for the first time. I presenting my story to the class and was promptly told that I couldn't do that. The verb had something to do with an old guy in a walker. He "walkered" out of the room? Well, that's dumb anyway. But still! why didn't my professor just tell me to write poetry instead?
And another thing: why do coffee snobs get in such a huff when I accidentally say eXpresso? Like, I'm obviously tired if I'm getting a shot of gross to resuscitate my everything--soo, can I getta break?
Or, let's talk about one of my favorite scenarios:
-Hi Sonja, How are you?
-Pretty good, what about you?
-I'm weeellllll.
-THIS IS A CASUAL CONVERSATION YOU SMUG ASSHOLE.
I'm getting a little off track........................................................
My writing, while thought out, still feels a little bit too surface level to me. I have so much fun with the word play bit that I tend to get a little lost or off track or unable to get to that next level ish. It's like sucking on one of those strawberry candies, the kind that has the extra gooze-delight on the inside. It's tasty, to be sure, and can definitely carry some gooey surprises on the inside, but it's still just eatin candy. If my stuff is candy, I'm not sure what I strive to become...maybe something that engages all of the senses at once, like rubbin chocolate cake all over the face. Smushin it real good--swirlin it around in all the crevices, orifices--especially that pie hole, you know, though? I love my candy and all, but I want my poems to make people's stomachs drop out of their you-know-what-holes. I want the pearl clutchers and the shriekers. I'll take the single tears and the soft sighs but I'll also take hallelujah hands and slow claps all day. I would love to get a few ugly criers and snort-laugh-farters under my belt and that should just be my opening act or whatever.
Blah. But anyway. I'm really just looking for some kind of reaction a fraction of a pinch higher than neutrality. So, maybe candy's okay for now. Will think some more about it tmw.
Anyway, my minds already racing, so I may as well type something out for the hell of it. I've been thinking about my own writing a lot lately. Dennis was giving me some details about applying for grad schools and having some weird sort of artist statement thought out. Since it doesn't seem quite pro enough to say, "I write poetry cuz it's fun and it sounds good when I chew on it and sometimes it makes me feel clever," I figured I should think about what I'm doing or who I am or at least something buzzy to say in an artist statement. PICK ME PICK ME PICK ME!!! Maybe too desperate? I'll find the right angle eventually.
I remember this one time in creative writing class at CCD when I wrote a piece of fiction and I verbed a noun for the first time. I presenting my story to the class and was promptly told that I couldn't do that. The verb had something to do with an old guy in a walker. He "walkered" out of the room? Well, that's dumb anyway. But still! why didn't my professor just tell me to write poetry instead?
And another thing: why do coffee snobs get in such a huff when I accidentally say eXpresso? Like, I'm obviously tired if I'm getting a shot of gross to resuscitate my everything--soo, can I getta break?
Or, let's talk about one of my favorite scenarios:
-Hi Sonja, How are you?
-Pretty good, what about you?
-I'm weeellllll.
-THIS IS A CASUAL CONVERSATION YOU SMUG ASSHOLE.
I'm getting a little off track........................................................
My writing, while thought out, still feels a little bit too surface level to me. I have so much fun with the word play bit that I tend to get a little lost or off track or unable to get to that next level ish. It's like sucking on one of those strawberry candies, the kind that has the extra gooze-delight on the inside. It's tasty, to be sure, and can definitely carry some gooey surprises on the inside, but it's still just eatin candy. If my stuff is candy, I'm not sure what I strive to become...maybe something that engages all of the senses at once, like rubbin chocolate cake all over the face. Smushin it real good--swirlin it around in all the crevices, orifices--especially that pie hole, you know, though? I love my candy and all, but I want my poems to make people's stomachs drop out of their you-know-what-holes. I want the pearl clutchers and the shriekers. I'll take the single tears and the soft sighs but I'll also take hallelujah hands and slow claps all day. I would love to get a few ugly criers and snort-laugh-farters under my belt and that should just be my opening act or whatever.
Blah. But anyway. I'm really just looking for some kind of reaction a fraction of a pinch higher than neutrality. So, maybe candy's okay for now. Will think some more about it tmw.
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