Some Thoughts About Ayiti by Roxane Gay

Ayiti by Roxane Gay, Artistically Declined Press.

I'm not sure there is much for my prose-weak mind to add about this book. It's been pointed at with lovingness (like this awesome nod ) and talked about by Roxane wonderfully (like here) and been opened up nicely in reviews (like this one by J.A. Tyler ). Yet, I still feel bad for not giving myself some record of why I loved this book.

- My digging of creative writing started as a way to run from the teenage junk I didn't understand, both in myself and around me. But now, as I'm fighting my lazy scared guts in order to become more "in-the-know" and "stable," creative writing is the expansive catalyst for this growth. Yeah, news is informative and talking to people is fun, but books and stories and poems that engage with those issues are teaching me more (about myself especially) than I think I initially wanted.

- Ayiti contains those smacking stories that teach and engage and force me to pay attention, don't allow me to be a wuss and "not care." (Or at least say I don't, because I do, but in my selfishness, I say this.)

- These are stories about the struggles of Haitians and how America affects them and how America's lens is dusty and how Haiti is a dangerous place with a gorgeous HUMAN soul.

- My favorite stories in the collection--"Motherfuckers," "About My Father's Accent," and "The Harder They Come"--were the ones that refused to let me NOT see myself in the Americans, to NOT deny that my worldview sucks and needs improving. More importantly, I think the clear, descriptive, and sometimes (emotionally/physically) brutal show that Roxane puts on in these story show so much of the ugly that it becomes clearer than ever to know how to be good.

- I used to think that Roxane's writing tried to tug at my heart strings, which it still might, but after reading this collection, I realize that these stories tug at all of me, WAKE UP.

Some Thoughts Upon Moving Home

1. After four years in Muncie, I can honestly say that Muncie is a cool town. Sweet bars. Lots of mostly fun/mostly free activities on campus. A good disc golf course. The Greenway. Killer food spots (Eva's, Greek's, Savage's, Concannons). Pretty much everything I need.

2. I think I'm a take-for-granteder. It's been a pleasure being able to see some people so often/so easy/so reliably. I think it goes without saying that moving is more out of a necessity than anything to do with getting away from anyone. Like Vega said, "Why would I wanna leave? Everyone I love is here."

3. This sucks: Clark moves to Muncie from Terre Haute, I move from Muncie to Elwood.

4. I'm going to start bowhunting again with my Dad.

5. I'll probably play more cornhole (because of my Dad) my first week at home than I did in my four years in college.

6. Now that I'm home and don't have to pay rent, I'll have more money to spend on cool things (read: books and activities). Future books: everything from Dark Sky and Brand Wells' book. Future activities: Bright Eyes/Mountain Goats, Polyvinyl 15 year celebration, Indiana State Fair, AWP 2012.

7. Muncie people: I plan to visit at least every other week, being only a half hour away. If you'd like me to stay with you, I'd be stoked. Also, you are welcome to visit anytime here in Elwood.

8. My parents are awesome.

9a. My last night in Muncie last Saturday was kickass. Got to see a great deal of budz. Had some great one-on-one time with two of my most cherished (and often taken-for-granted; see above) people: Ashley and Sara. Got to see Cody on his last night in town as well. Saw The Bonesetters shred. Fun fun time.

9b. SUPER BUMMED LAYNE COULDN'T BE THERE:(

10. Besides the people, the number one thing I'll miss is being able to go to pretty much every appealing literary/music event in town.

11. I plan to read a ton of books, write many stacks of poems, throw so many discs into so many baskets, hangout with pygmy goats, and learn lots of things about bikes and musical instruments. Hold me to that.

12. Having no car and a good bike in a town with a great public transportation system and plenty of car-pals is sweet. Being able to borrow either of my parents' cars in a town without public transportation and most of my friends a half hour away is sweet.

13. This

Plus This

Plus This

Plus This


14. Things might not have worked out between Sara and I, but they certainly are heading in a better direction than they were six months ago.

15. Still Stoked.

here are some quick thoughts about last monday's vouched presents dogzplot reading

1. i got to help chris run the table and it was super cool to be able to talk about these books to another human being in a way that's not just me tugging on my friends' shirt saying LISTEN TO ME. when people ask questions and you know the answer and furthermore want to give the answer it's a mighty nice feeling.

2. sunnyoutside press makes some gorgeous books.

3. indy-based scratchtruck fed me one of the best burger-fry combos i've ever had. Scratch Burger- 1/3 lb custom ground burger, bacon marmalade, arugula and gorgonzola cheese served on a fresh, toasted soft roll. oh and that banana pudding!

4. a lot of readers with three to five minutes each is a nice way to shake things up. quick and fun. similar to why i dig lit journals so much. if you don't like it, wait it'll be over in a minute and then someone new.

5. i love listening roxane gay read. can't wait for ayiti. hope there's an audiobook.

6. picked up hosho mccreesh's book as well as sean lovelace's new one from publishing genius. i doubt they'll make it into august being unread.

7. layne ransom is awful.

8. clark swears its an acquired taste, but i'm no fan of ipas. i can do one but after that it felt like i've been sleeping with my mouth open in the middle of the woods. if it's an acquired taste, i'm not gonna let myself get there.

9. vouched books is indie lit's best I WISH I'D THOUGHT OF THAT ventures.

10. i'm so stoked for AWP CHICAGO. PLAN SOON?

OOOOOOOOOOOHHHH

Ball in black space, pitcher head like crap, then boom outfielder on wall, crowd explodes like at a Charlie Slick show. I saw this baseball video in the weight room. Me and buff dude #1 and buff dude #2 beside me had faces like the pitcher around 1:21 of this video. O O O. That is a picture of our faces. We may or may not have high-fived. The kid beside me in this computer lab is staring at his crotch and bobbing his head, no headphones, no music, looks sad, like poor pitiful guy. I knew this kid 4 years ago, but no longer. I doubt he even likes WOW anymore, or dorms. He had long hair then. Hey, put your hand over your mouth, kid, like the outfielder. Hey, check out this video, it'll make you happier than now than now than now. I don't even like baseball. None of us do, but it is part of life. I don't even like life. None of us do, but it is part of space.

THIS HAS BEEN REJECTED ENOUGH

Unlimited Texting

Every moment with Jill is LOL
funny. She is always falling. OMG
I say and I get a bandaid BRB.
When I return, she is ROTFL
and I get mad and bout say TTYL
but she is my BFF

I’m her BFF
too. I know that. People say you are dykes! LOL!
and I say to those bitches TTYL
and OMG.
Jill doesn’t care, she is too busy making me ROTFL
and making me pee my panties, so I have to BRB.

Speaking of BRB
I had a BFF
in middle school who was ROTFL
funny not just that ditzy LOL
like she would say OMG
shit, but one day she said TTYL

But she never called or text, so it wasn’t TTYL
or even BRB
it was like OMG
I just lost my freakin’ BFF
and all the fat girls went and LOL-ed
at me and Nancy, this evil girl wrote ROTFL

you are a loser on my Myspace. ROTFL!
I cried and cried, but my mom said TTYL
and my brother went all LOL
on my ass so I told the school BRB
and played hooky for a week, grieving my BFF
It was totally OMG!

When I went back, the other kids were all OMG
we didn’t mean to ROTFL
about you and your BFF
but I didn’t listen. No TTYL
No BRB
on our friendships. I didn’t LOL.

But OMG, I met Jill so it is all LOL
now because we are always ROTFL and she always says BRB
and comes back because she is my BFF and means it when she says TTYL.

My Dark Corner

That the poet, the modern poet, is, understandably enough, for all sorts of good reasons, more obscure than even he has any imaginable right to be--this is one of those great elementary (or, as people say nowadays, elemental) attitudes about which it is hard to write anything that is not sensible and gloomily commonplace; one might as well talk on faith and works, on heredity and environment, or on that old question: why give the poor bath-tubs when they only use them to put coal in? Anyone knows enough to reply to this question: "They don't; and, even if they did, that's not the reason you don't want to help pay for the tubs." Similarly, when someone says, "I don't read modern poetry because it's all stuff nobody on earth can understand," I know enough to be able to answer, though not aloud: "It isn't; and, even if it were, that's not the reason you don't read it." Any American poet under a certain age, a fairly advanced age--the age, one is tempted to say, of Bernard Shaw--has inherited a situation in which no one looks at him and in which, consequently, everyone complains that he is invisible: for that corner into which no one looks is always dark. And people who have inherited the custom of not reading poets justify it by referring to the obscurity of the poems they have never read--since most people decide that poets are obscure very much as legislators decide that books are pornographic: by glancing at a few fragments someone has strung together to disgust them.

From "The Obscurity of the Poet" by Randall Jarrell

There seems to me a personal truth in this passage, not to mention the whole essay. As I dig deeper into poetry, as I immerse myself further into this as a fledging profession, I realize that I am isolating myself from the type of people that Jarrell references, as many of the people I love, converse with daily, need in my life are those types of people, non-poetry lovers. For reasons that Jarrell mentions, these people of my life have not found, loved, devoured poetry as I have come to know it. For reasons I can't explain, I have.

If I am in fact going to make poetry any sort of career (writer + reviewer + publisher + teacher), each poem written/published, each class taught, each book read that takes time away from television/sports/pop culture isolates me further. While it is true that a career should only be a part of life, "art," a Jarrell says later in that essay, "matters not merely because it is the most magnificent ornament and the most nearly unfailing occupation of our lives, but because it is life itself." If this is true, as I assume it to be, I am committing myself to something that as Jarrell's non-reader example says, "nobody on earth can understand." Contrast that with a profession like a doctor, where even if I know nothing of practicing, I still know enough about the body, the profession (we all visit doctors!) to sustain a connection with a medical professional. In poetry's case, already, I see this becoming true as my wife says "This stuff is over my head," my best friend takes 3 months to read 12 pages of a book of poems I thought he would devour, and my closest friends become the people who are in this corner with me.

Few concerns I have with writing this post:
1) It lacks my optimism. (I assure you it is somewhere in there)
2) I don't want this to sound boo-hooey. Just something I've been thinking about.
3) I have to call myself a poet, a term I am not comfortable with. And maybe I'm not, but I want to be a poet more than anything right now.
4) I'm not trying to condemn any of the non-poetry people in my life. They are great, more wonderful than I.
5) Oh those of you in your own dark corner, how I need you!