Thursday, January 29, 2009

LoWreck of Vagiant is helping me with a new side project. Suffice it to say, my hip-hop name is Madame Psychosis. Check it out and add it.

Obviously, my website is updated. I have some new gigs coming up this winter/spring. I also have quite a few poems coming out in publication here and there from now until summer. I'll post links here when they're up.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Hope and Circumstance

Watching the inauguration in front of Cardullo's crowded round the window flatscreen with what felt like four or five dozen of my best buddies holding balloons and streamers, drinking free coffee and hot apple cider offered in celebration by Cardullo's themselves and sharing a folding metal chair with Tara in her weird old-lady hat, I realized that I kept tearing up again and again at odd moments, and even released a bona-fide tear during the President's (we can say it now) speech.

But I was initially mistrustful of these emotions evoked by flags and pomp and "Hail to the Chief." Never in my adult life has politics excited me, much less inspired me. What bizarre day of yore must this be? We read about politicians who unite, who fill the country with drive and purpose and yes, hope, but they were men and women of our parents' parents' generation, surely, and impossible after the sixties and seventies, after the assassination of Kennedy and King and Lennon. We know better now, don't we? After all, he's only a symbol, and now he has so much to live up to, a demi-god myth to chisel himself to before the task instead of after, and how can anyone hope to live up to that?

But I barely noticed the blood slowing in my toes and fingers during the two+ hours I was out there. There's graffiti supporting this man, for god's sake, and art. Real art. I've never seen that kind of groundswell inspired by a politician. And don't we know enough to eschew the cynicism of the '90s and early '00s? Isn't that what got us into this mess in the first place -- that attitude that let's us rest in sneers as the corruption metastasizes?

Symbols are the realest things in the world. Symbols are the only reason humans have ever done anything. Money, country, religion, family, honor, love, these are all symbols. The power to make symbols via abstract thought is one of the things that defines and drives all human beings. Why else have we built buildings, created rituals, sewn gowns?

I choose to believe in symbols. I choose to reject the starkly "realistic" view of the cynic who clammily stands by and grunts at the notion of earnest change. This type of cynicism isn't realism, it's laziness. To mimic sentiments of the President himself, America has no time for the lazy.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

No matter what, I weigh so freaking much every time I step on the scale that it spins me into a brief, embarrassingly Cathy-esque fit of conniptions where I vow to stop eating cheese, beef, cupcakes, and delicious, delicious oatmeal-chocolate-butterscotch cookies and hit the elliptical like a gerbil on a wheel.

Fortunately for me, these fits usually only last a few hours, max, before I convince myself it's nothing more than big bones, big boobs, ass, lots of muscle, and maybe some left-over skin from my actually chunky days, making me look at least ten pounds lighter than the scale betrays me as. I like to think as long as I'm not in the double-digits size-wise, we're all doing an okay job, oatmeal-chocolate-butterscotch cookies included.

Monday, January 12, 2009

A big dog and a Tennessee Williams script started me thinking about all the lives I've lead already. How completely different my life was two, three, four, years ago. Three years ago I was practically married in a real legit home with like a dining room for dinner parties and a waffle iron in Southern Indiana. I owned a dog that I raised and trained from a puppy. Now I rarely speak to that ex-boyfriend and the dog lives hundreds of miles away. I still exist.

I am the romantically fatalistic type who has always secretly (or not so secretly) dreamed of getting married, but simultaneously lived self-pitifully resigned that for one reason or another, I probably never would. It always gets weird in these spurts where you look around and all your best girlfriends' fingers are shimmering.

Sometimes it feels like we're all just wandering around hurting each other.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

in America, you're not anyone unless you're on [the Internet]

You are among the first to find out about the launch of! Rejoice and pirouette!

Points of interest so far: "The Way I See It:1" in videos, and FREE (you heard me) downloads of my own personal voice reading poems. Holy shit of shits.

If you have any links or whathaveyous to me on any sites or spaces, could you please change them accordingly? Thank you!

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

It is the temperature of a walk-in refrigerator in my apartment. I know because the butter on the counter is the same consistency as the butter in the fridge. Amazing what a bad mood that can put you in.

Monday, January 5, 2009

I started feeling sick last night and feel the pretty much the same this morning. I'm Airborning the fuck out of it, and I slept in today, so hopefully I caught it and will start to get better soon.

Trying to decide what to spend my 500 dollar Northwest Airline credit on. I'm thinking San Francisco and Seattle. I've got several friends out there, and I haven't been either place in six years.

If I made New Year's resolutions, which I don't, mine for 2009 would be, "play more guitar." I'd be doing great so far.

To do today:

-Put remainder of savings bonds in savings acct.

-Sell old clothes.

-Buy more Airborne and Nyquil.

-Write pomes.