writing

The Friday Five | May 15, 2020

This is a collection of things that I’ve been enjoying, doing, or thinking about through the week. Since it’s been a little while since my last gratitude post, I thought this would be an opportune time to share some things that I am thankful for right now.

Please note that some obvious things (family, food, shelter, etc.) aren’t going to be on the list below. It’s not that I’m not grateful for them, it’s that there wouldn’t be room for anything else if that’s all I focused on. So let’s just take those as a given, okay?

FATAL FLAWS. This might seem like an odd one to start off with and probably deserves its own post at some point. Before the pandemic, we’d been in the process of discussing how our business needed to change and/or adapt for the near and far futures. Along the way, we identified some flaws in our business model along with one potentially fatal flaw (to scalability and expansion that is). Now, as we’re hurtling towards week nine of lockdown, it turns out that the fatal flaw has been our saving grace. Just a reminder to approach things from multiple angles.
TOM ROBBINS. Being caught shorthanded with fresh books to read was an example of a problem I’ve been trying to look at from a different angle. The positive being that I dove back into the work of Tom Robbins over the last couple weeks and was reminded how much I love his writing. It’s also been a flashback since I remember clearly the time in my life when each one was read and in some cases, the location. That’s not to say fresh books aren’t on the way, but it’s been a fun spin down Memory Lane.
BLATANT FOOLISHNESS. Another positive of not having many places to go is that I’ve been able to spend every Sunday night recording a fresh episode of the Free Range Idiocy podcast with my friend Tim. We have no aspirations of fame and fortune (which is good being one out of a billion podcasts in the universe), but it’s an excellent opportunity to spend a couple hours laughing our way into the new week.
NEW MUSIC. Throughout my life, I’ve spent a lot of time looking backwards with music instead of looking at what’s coming next. From my elementary school years spent listening to The Beach Boys up until now when I’m more likely to be pulling an old Verve jazz record out of my collection instead of prowling the new release section of iTunes or Spotify. However, the last couple weeks have given me some good excuses to look at the present and even the future, so here’s a couple of recommendations… The new Lettuce album Resonate is absolutely outstanding … Ditto with new Fiona Apple album Fetch the Bolt Cutters (but you probably already knew that one) … And here’s one to look forward to – Maceo Parker has a new album coming out in June, but hit us all up with a new version of his song “Cross The Track” as an appetizer.
PASSION PROJECTS. I suppose the podcast would count in this category, but here I’m specifically talking about the poetry project I’ve been working on. Same as with the podcast, I have no illusions about this book taking the world by storm, becoming a bestseller, or catapulting me to a level of recognition that results in me being taught in a class some day … but … it is fun and it is something to do. Sometimes, that’s enough.

If you’ve enjoyed any of this, I’m glad. Feel like sticking around for a bit? Check out some of my more recent posts below.

Word Wednesday Out Of Time

Sometimes, it’s fun to mess around on the page (or screen).

a man out of time

had Bukowski lived in the Age of Facebook,
you know damn well he’d have been trolling
at 2am instead of writing poems

drunk as hell, giggling as he typed
another flamethrower reply
then sit back & watch the show

which is how i comfort myself
on nights like this when nothing
is getting done.

Part of me does wonder about what someone like Hank would’ve thought of today’s world. Another part thinks he would’ve thought about it the same way he did about his own world and time: poorly.

Either way, the image of Buk sitting down at his computer, cigarette ashing on his shorts, surrounded by beer cans, and typing furiously on social media just to start fights is pretty amusing to me.

Word Wednesday: Adjustment 25

One of the drawbacks of being involved in multiple projects (being in a creative flow as Robert Rodriguez would say) is that it’s easy for one to slip to the side every now and again. I used to get pretty upset about that until recently when I realized that’s okay – as long as it gets picked up again (and nobody is sitting around waiting for it), what’s the harm? After all, most of these things are for my own amusement anyways.

All that to say that I haven’t been making many blackout poems lately, but here’s one that I did.

Word Wednesday Contraptions

After not writing much new poetry while I’ve been stuck in Revision Land, it’s been a veritable explosion of fresh material here!

Okay, so it’s been a couple poems. But still! That’s something.

Here’s one that I wrote yesterday.

contraptions

stubbornly sensual,
hands reach to caress - lips pout to kiss

& find only empty space
filled with air & questions.

think of that:
emptiness filled.

an artless definition of love
or a crude state of being?

all of us, empty & filled
in various ways -

jury-rigged apparatus
on the verge of catastrophe,

asked to bear
“just a little bit more”

Early Words

I know that it isn’t Word Wednesday, but I woke up to snow in Southern Maine on April 28 and a lack of motivation to write much besides and endless stream of cuss words and other “get off my lawn” – ish grumbling.

So instead, here’s a new poem that I was going to save until tomorrow.

bon voyage

holes poked in the stage curtain sky,
shine down on me as comets
chase their tails -

money, in its various incarnations
being shifted around the globe
in elected electrons -

down here, it’s steady as she goes
while first class places another bet
on catastrophe and low prices -

only the poor bastards up there
in the crows nest know for sure
what’s coming -

& we stopped listening
to them 
a long time ago.

Word Wednesday Gone To The Birds

Reaching back a bit for this one because I’ve been living in The Land of Revision as of late instead of writing new things. I’ll be glad to find some sort of an end to this project if only to say it’s done. In the meantime, enjoy this little chestnut from a few years back.

birds of a feather

because birds of a feather who never quite come together
are pulled apart from the part from which they want to be
a part... something whole for once instead of a piece
without peace that never quite finds that lease on life - 

first or second
that they’ve heard so much about
and without a doubt the hardest part 
is the softest spot
because that’s where the dagger goes

and it shows in the way that she
curls away from life in general - the way
she turns away from even the slightest compliment
or passing glance that never quite passes without a chance

to cut... or pierce that veil of stale air that surrounds
her inside that armor shell

You Don’t Have To Be Shakespeare

There’s a notion going ’round that what with the lockdown / social distancing most of us are doing these days – when “Wash your hands!” and “Six feet apart” are the new “How ya doin’?” and “Good, you?” of our day – that we should really be getting a lot more done creatively. Write your novel! Take up painting! Now there’s finally time for you to study belly button lint sculpting like you’ve always wanted to!

And I suppose you could do all of those things, but I think the question is really… should you?

Upward On Word Wednesday

There are four certainties in life. Death and taxes seem to get all the ink, but I firmly believe there’s two others. One is that the quickest way to get a bunch of tables when you’re a waiter is to order food for yourself. The other is that the quickest way to wind up writing about something is to say you haven’t been writing. The universe likes to point out how foolish we humans are.

So yeah, after my little diatribe yesterday about my lack of writing and late 90’s music, I got myself in gear with some prompts and cranked out the poem you’ll read today. And you know what? I like it. There’s a bit of editing and sanding of edges to be done, but this one felt good writing it yesterday, felt good typing it up this morning, and feels good sharing it.

Sitrep Saturday

It’s been a bit since I’ve checked in with this sort of thing, so I figured why not? Sure, it’s only half past midnight, but it’s also technically Saturday and I’ve got Wes Montgomery’s Willow Weep For Me on the hi-fi, so might as well make the most of it.

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve finally completed the first round of editing of poems for the book I’ve been working on for what feels like a couple decades. Most of these poems were written directly into a word processor, so I like to change medium for editing, meaning that all of these poems were printed and revised by hand. So I spent a decent portion of time last night (a couple hours ago) transferring changes from the printed pages to their files on my computer. I’m about a third of the way there, which is pretty good considering this project was dead in the water a month ago.

The Right Stuff on Word Wednesday

This is one I stumbled across this morning and sparked my interest.

In the same way I’m confused when people who played beautifully (or at least better than myself) have given up on music, I’m still in disbelief over some of the writers I’ve known who have given up on words. Of course, I say this as someone who hasn’t touched a saxophone in quite awhile, so maybe I understand more than I’m willing to admit.

the right stuff
 
all the best poets i’ve known
have moved on to other things
 
one is shaping metal on the west coast
and the other is oil painting on the east
 
both were sublime with the word
and gave it up, seemingly cold turkey
 
yet here i am, plugging away with talent
that could be measured in microns
 
why?

because the words won’t let me go?
because my ego won’t let me go?
 
one more night, listening to the automobiles tear by
after last call, going to parts unknown & destruction -
 
this keyboard, a friendly face, wondering
about the peers who have disappeared.