Confession Tuesday - Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders Edition

It's Tuesday again and so I've come here tonight to offer up my weekly confession. Shall we start?


Dear Readers:

It's been two newly purchased poetry books, a new pair of shoes, and one contract from a publisher to sign since my last confession a week ago.

I confess that while I was about 25 minutes late leaving the office tonight I was not ready for the fact that it was well on the way to being dark downtown. It just seemed so different then last night when I left.  I mean Monday night It was still light when I arrived home and this was like spooky different. I don't mean that I was afraid or anything like that, it was just strange how different it felt. The drive home was not especially smooth.  Traffic on I-70 played with my patience. I did not let it get the best of me though.

As I noted above I got two new poetry books this week. They are Factory of Tears, by Valzhyna Mort and In Broken Latin, by Annette Spaulding-Convy. (have more to say soon about these books) I truly am giddy when I get a new poetry book. Especially if it's one that I have had my radar on for a while. You have book radar don't you? I confess that I'm forever wanting this book or that book and usually several at a time. I just can't ever quite satisfy my thirst for books. I'm pretty sure that if you look in the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) there is a code for people who can't own enough books.

I got a contract from a publisher this week. Don't wet your pants! It's not for a book but for a single poem. I confess that in all the time I've written poetry and had work accepted and published there has never been a written contract involved. Of course there has never been any money involved either.

This past week I've been exhausted every night by the time I've gotten off work. My work can be pretty intense, even stressful at times but since we've added a new case management program, I'm working in it essentially all day long. It's very labor intensive so I get to the end of the day and I've like done all this work and maybe moved two items off my desk. I know there is value to the case management program but I confess that I have a tendency to look at how far I've gotten into my work load and it can be depressing.

Slowly but surely I've been working on a manuscript. I confess that I've not written like I should have this past week. Gotten off my schedule and been more miss then hit. Otherwise my days have leveled out. Not a lot of great days but much fewer bad days. I confess I'll accept that  this time of year.

Amen!

~ Book of Kells: Holiday Gift Guide: Poetry Book Edition (even if you don't write poetry, you can read poetry)

~ Book of Kells: Holiday Gift Guide: Poetry Book Edition (even if you don't write poetry, you can read poetry)


Excellent gift ideas from Kelli Russell Agodon.  There are a couple on this list that I'm craving after her post.

Wondering

Did the dead thump of the head
to the concrete floor
so many years ago
have any repercussion

I should know of
or would I recognize
anything beyond
the usual
as unusual

Valzhyna Mort - Mid-West Poets Series

After work last night I headed to The Mixx for dinner. It was a grueling day and I had not eaten lunch. A Mixx salad sounded like just what I needed and I had a but of time to kill before heading over to Rockhurst for the Midwest Poets Series reading by Valzhyna Mort.

I've miss the last couple of MW Poet Series readings but this one I've had on my radar. I first heard about Valahyna Mort in a Poets & Writers magazine maybe three years ago or so.

Valzhyna started her reading in  Belarusian her native tongue. While not able to understand - the words had a familiarity. I too two years of Russian in high school and while I have retained little of the Russian the sounds were quite similar and I found the sharpness and the harshness of the language amazingly comforting. Her speech is soft but powerful. Her writing too shows a powerful command of language. These two components are interesting given the fact that she approached the microphone with just a bit of shyness maybe trepidation.

In Belarusian I  as in other of her poems she blends a sociopolitical landscape into her work and does it well...

"even our mothers have no idea how we were born
how we parted their legs and crawled out into a world
the way you crawl from the ruins after a bombing"

In one poem in memory of a book, I can tell you that everyone around me was hanging on to every word.

Valzhyna  is a small woman of physical proportions but her poetic voice has strength and resonance. In her book Factory of Tears there is a  line that makes me think of her...

"i'm
as thin
as your
eyelashes"

I've been in need of an Artist's date and this was reading was just what I needed.


Additional biographical information:
Valzhyna Mort - Wikipedia 

A video clip (August 2008 in Brooklyn)

Confession Tuesday - Bitch Slap Edition

Dear Readers:

It's been a week since my last confession, but today has seemed like a week. Let's begin...

I realized this morning while in route to work that I had neglected to get my Healthy Choice TV dinner out of the freezer. I decided that I would just have to go out for lunch today and that was that.  It's not really as big a deal as it sounds. I've done it many times, jut not lately. The cafeteria at the Federal Building down the way isn't bad... I mean food wise. I can usually find something to suit me, but not always the healthiest.  Once a pretty reasonable price I confess that I'm less crazy about their prices these days and this is part of the reason I've been trying to bring lunch most of the time these past few weeks.

My morning was pretty busy and I was planning originally not to eat till 1PM (that was before I forgot my lunch) but as it reached the noon hour it occurred to me that if I wait till one o'clock the cafeteria at the Fed Bldg would be shutting down. So about 12:20 as I was getting ready to leave I made the mistake of taking a call rather then letting it go to voice mail.  This call turned out to be important and I remained involved in the call till about 12:45.  Then after a rest room stop (I know, too much detail) I realized there was no point in going to the Federal Building to eat. So I dug out some grapes I had in the refrigerator and that became my lunch.

I confess that I did pretty good for not eating a real lunch. I think in large part to the fact that the rest of my day was even busier then the first half. I confess that my office upon arrival was hotter then hell. I sought some relief from facilities management (they arrived about 4:45PM) and I confess that is was good that I was so busy because I normally get really cranky when it's hot. Keeping busy helped me push through the day without inflicting heat rage upon my co-workers. I turned on a fan I have and it mostly blew hot air around.

My day might not have been quite so tedious if I had not have to keep screwing with disappearing drivers and files on my computer. I confess I was starting to take it personally until I realized this problem was impacting others in our office. By the time I was ready to go home... I confess I WAS READY TO GO HOME.

One the commute traffic on I-70 became backed up due to a wreck. I realized then that impatient Mike was along for the ride. Yes we are closer then you might imagine but I'm not at all proud of him. Hell he even gets impatient with me! So, I'm driving along and I realize the problem up ahead and while Mike is getting upset I rationalize that no matter how bad a day I'm having, I'm pretty sure whoever is in the wreck is having a worse day. I confess this is where I bitch slapped impatient Mike and told him to count his blessings.

Well, I have arrived home. This is good. I getting my confession out of the way early. This too is good. Did I  mention that  on the way home my Chiropractic office called to cancel my appointment for "trigger points" tomorrow evening due to illness?  No worry, I could be the one sick.

Best to everyone!

I Need A Cup Of Mania

The best laid plans for my day have been misplaced. So have a couple of older poems on my laptop.  I'm thinking ahead, I just wish I had started doing so before 10:00 AM. I'm convinced our cat Evie would have liked a shot at me earlier. She's a sweet thing if you just accept the fact that she is in control.

Looking to pull together some poetry to submit. It's a bit hard to believe that I've had replies to every one of my submissions I've made. I never like to be without something outstanding. I'm referring to the word like you would a check that hasn't been cashed yet not the quality of the work, but outstanding work is good too. And that word check, I suppose that could be foreign to you. It seems to be going the way of things like typewriters, carbon paper, phone booths... I could go on but then I'd just have more to explain.

My Duotrope control panel tells me that I have an acceptance ratio of 8.1% and congratulates me and says that is higher the the average of users that have submitted material to the same markets. That's also sad. (I've added the last part)

It's actually not quite that late- but it seems like it should be. Time haunts me. It always has. I was a blue baby when I was born. A preemie not a smurf.  So obviously I came out of the gate early, not exactly galloping but starting ahead of time. I never thought of it till now but you might say that I was cheating.

There is Evis, her deep meow and footsteps. She could be warning me but I'm not retreating to another room just yet.

I do need to get on with things. I can't continue with nothing under consideration. I've got to stuff to send out again and I've been looking at venues trying to decide what might be a best choice for each pieces.  It's a task I dislike but as long as I keep writing - I have to keep sending.

Stuck In Between In Gaza

In between the screeches of outgoing missals
there are explosions that shake you about.

In between apartment buildings
there is concrete rubble.

In between parents are children
hunkered down in stairwells.

In between one family is an extended one
that has no place else to go.

In between the quiet
there are screams.

In between the periods of commotion
there is the stillness that teeters

in between hope and terror
and knows not which way to fall.