try, try, try again, harder, and for years
you know what i mean about slick poetry? that evanescent, evaporate, incandescent writing etched in granite, in anthologies, that seemingly never contained mistakes? the kind that you read because you don't do crosswords, the kind that only become understandable as you pour over the OED and write about it?
one poem i'd consider slick and seamless is "one art", an exercise in the art of losing.
but did you know it took e.b. 17 drafts, in which nearly every word is transformed, to reach this one? perhaps each version distanced the pain a little more, helped her to master it. anyway, i found it a relief to read some of the drafts. a relief, and sad (her loss of her lover, and repression of it), and again revitalized to show how messy a tugjobs movie can be. i will not write slickly. the mistakes are too instructive.
everyone's getting sick. the weather fluctuates between 20 and 80 degrees. i'm getting a flu shot. i'm trying to manage going back into monk mode, after a social weekend. my new therapist says for some people it is not possible to balance life and work. i think this is bullshit, i mean, how can i not help but try? risks, risks, i will take them. i will be locking myself in tonight, and this weekend. oh joy.
yeah. it's great. when i'm working, tho, i feel this hollowness, this empty, hungry need to be around people. i want to throw my cat out the window. i want someone i like to call and interrupt me. i want to have to work faster so i can go out later. i want to go out on a hot date.
i keep seeing people out and about who don't say hello. how i hate that. especially when it's someone i've asked out. i can't easily say hello, myself, when i've been rejected more than once. i just don't understand these people. what are they afraid of? i think people see me as a snob. don't they see i'm shy and terrified? i know i blow things out of proportion, especially when i care. i guess i'll never know what anyone thinks, or if anyone will ever understand me, if i don't keep on trying, again and again...