9/12/09

Save Me From My Hungry Kitty

I know this is going to come as a shock to you both, but sometimes, just sometimes, I piss people off. I know. I know. It's hard to believe. I can scarcely believe it myself sometimes, but there it is. Out. On the table. Pick it up and smell it. Eww, I'm sorry. Don't do that, but do feel it up..., please. Aww. Yep.

I did one tiny thing, not because I planned it, but because it just happened, this week. I bought one of these here moleskine planners. I'm in school supply fetish heaven, and organized to boot. My old planner ran out and I was carrying all these tiny details around in my head, but not with much interest in doing so, and a thing here and there fell through my crack. The point? Besides the daily blocked areas, there is a notebook sheet beside each. I'm lovin' making the lists, etc., but since the darned thing started in June, yesterday I actually wrote a journal entry back on that day. This is important.

My favorite way to write poetry is to focus in on a strong emotion when I am having it, and then listen to music, or whatever. (This especially works when I am driving or walking around in public somewhere.) What I then do is just try and notice words that interest me. Yesterday those words were "chemical, sappy (sweet sticky drag), solitary, never stellar, clenched (jaw and cunt), the hue, and rue." Then, I proceed to make a poem.
Our Biochemical Romance

Like a syrupy, red drug,
A sappy, sweet, sticky drag on my soul,
Your flavor lingers, taints and tints.
Though we were never stellar,
Rather raw and earthy, organic,
Our highs were easy to obtain.

Lest this seem objectionable,
A clenched jaw and cunt can say two things:
"Ours was a hue I both miss and rue."
An utter ambivalence hardly not felt,
I'd put aside just long enough to be discarded, like a placenta,
Six months pregnant... "for painting."

Our child and I were made imaginary enemies of the arts.
Now finding myself again blissfully irresolute, or, perhaps,
Precisely because I am, the growing backlash, coming unleashed,
Is revealing our time as relevant to this.
Despite the fatigue caused by the persistence of my doubts,
Jumps and leaps cry to be made even as I crawl and rest and try to hide.

Though I will leave you and my mission not (complain and complain some more), six sentences (which may well elect me president of my tiny Epsilon neighborhood) led to six-worded memoirs, led to writing an actual true story (that could be made into a comic)! Cormac then invited me to the ever fashionable Friday Flash Friday, as I now invite you, and my moleskine doobob begs to be filled with notes in futile preparation for NaNoWritMo. Maybe, just maybe, I'll quit masturbating and complaining and get on a fucking fast track to Hooterville before my hungry kitty* eats me alive. (Ooh, the incidental reference to intersecting petticoats is just a bonus. That's all it is. A bonus.)

*(pic by one creative girl- hot)

17 comments:

Randal Graves said...

My favorite way to write poetry is to focus in on a strong emotion when I am having it, and then listen to music, or whatever. (This especially works when I am driving or walking around in public somewhere.) What I then do is just try and notice words that interest me.

Oh, word, yes. This makes me want to feel your moleskine, and you, up.

Dude, that Cormac is harsh. A novel length prose poem? Isn't that like 79 million words? I'm going to write an antidote.

I had something else to say, but it got lost under my jealous rage at your poem. Try writing something crappy next time, dammit, or I'll post more Kissinger.

Freida Bee, MD said...

Watch it, Randal, when that big kitty purrs, trouble ensues.

Lisa said...

I'm glad you're sharing your poetry with us.

For the love of a good moleskin.....mine is feeling neglected as I tappity tap on the computer so much these days...

darkblack said...

'I'll quit masturbating and complaining'

What? And leave show biz?

;>)

Cormac Brown said...

Randal,

Those were JJ's rules and poetry gives me ADD, so I wouldn't be able to read more than seven paragraphs. I'm going to have to amend that.

Frieda,

Thanks for the plug and I hope it will become a venue that spurs everyone on to more creativity.

"I'll quit masturbating and complaining"

Seriously, what's left in life if you give those things up? I mean, wasn't it said? A life not spent bitching and jerking off, is not a life worth living at all.

Freida Bee, MD said...

Lisa- Yeah, no one seeks out the poetry in my moleskin, so I have to wave it around here to get noticed. ;) We can make sexual innuendo out of anything and there's a post in that, no doubt.

My favorite picture over at onecreativegirl was one you'd like... her breakfast sausage collage. Actually, I'm sure you'd love them all.

Darkblack- I know. It's my schtick, isn't it? Damnit. ;)

Cormac- I noticed that epic poem statement and half thought WTF and half just skipped over it like fine print and signed up anyway. If you own my soul now, well I just hope it doesn't get your all sticky. Speaking of which, of course, I meant giving up figuratively masturbating, or then I would just have a whole new hell to complain about, and even I am not that committed to suffering for the sake of "art." (See how I did that there? I referred to my complaining as art. That there takes skill or gumption, or a Nyquil-induced stupor. I'm not sayin' which applies. (Ok, it's Nyquil.) ;)

Doc said...

Got to love Cormac Brown! Nice poem, by the way. I was just thinking about masturbation but your post convinced me not to. Thanks! I'm looking forward to your contribution to Flash Fiction Fridays as I'm sure it will be a peach.

Doc

Freida Bee, MD said...

"I was just thinking about masturbation but your post convinced me not to. Thanks!"

Then my work here is done. Not. ;)

Thanks.

I feel all put on the spot re: FFF. Oh, the pressure.

Workplace romance and jumping out of a plane stories already were both started, but failed.

Remind me not to date... or whatever would be much easier if I had much of a clue what dating is like. Either it's just been so long, or I just had long term fucky things or I had kids with someone and we lived together. The whole idea of actually making informed and possibly good decisions in this regard is foreign to me, making my ability to imagine saying such a thing quite difficult.

Cormac Brown said...

No pressure, write the first thing that comes to you and if that doesn't work, move on to the next. At least crank out a paragraph or two, you'll feel better. You have to jog around the block and build up your endurance, before you run a marathon.

Randal Graves said...

But don't marathons take precious masturbation time away?

thepoetryman said...

My Uncle Eddie was a perverted old fuck, but man he said some things that I have never forgotten, like- There's two kinds of liars in this world, boy. Yip. Just two. The first is those that say they never masturbated and the second are those that say they quit!"

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