Yesterday was Sara's birthday, so I wrote her this On Poem

On Your Birthday

When I say I’m retching for you, it’s a good thing. Like the earth vomiting winter, so we can have disc golf weather in the spring. Like your tiny garden out front killing itself to live. That’s me. When I say I’m reaching for you, it’s a good thing. Sometimes, I open your door while you sleep and listen to you breathe the night in and out. I can’t see you, so it’s not creepy. The visuals in my life are sometimes too much to bear. All the fleshy beauty, the words, the baked goods on the counter. When I say I’m wrestling myself, it’s a good thing. Like I’m shouting at the mirror, the one with the I’M NOT WORRIED sticker at the top. Like I’m saying GET IT TOGETHER MAN. Sara, it’s your birthday, and you are not here. But you are somewhere. When I say I’m whistling your name, it’s a good thing. Like please come home. Like YOU’RE REAL COOL.

Metazen E-book

Metazen is doing a sweet Christmas E-book with all money going to charity. FIND OUT MORE HERE.

So, on Christmas, you should donate some money, get your parents and girlfriend/boyfriend to donate some money, maybe even your rich old grandpa, and read some good writing. Stellar lineup. IT'S FOR A GOOD CAUSE.

THANKS

The On Switch

For my Book Binding/Manifesto class, we were challenged to write a manifesto and bind it, using the skills we've learned in class. I was having trouble coming up with a manifesto topic to write this long thing about, so I used and expanded a series of poems that I started over the summer. The thought was to come up with a topic, title it "On [Topic]," and let loose, combining feeling and thinking, something I'm not always the best at. (Some of these have popped up on this blog) Here is one:

On Caring
Wanting someone not to die, harm themselves, shoot up a school/workplace is one thing. Wanting someone to have lots of money or bigger breasts is another. Telling someone they have spinach in their teeth via text message is one thing. Telling someone they have spinach in their teeth by shouting across the room, HEY DOUG SAVING THAT FOR LATER?, is another. Visiting a children’s hospital, homeless shelter, or old folks home because that’s what your dead grandma would want is one thing. Visiting those places because you need another volunteer thing on your resume is another. Trying is one thing. Trying is another.


I'm pretty suck at the sewing/gluing part of book binding, so I decided to type them (YES TYPE LIKE ON A TYPEWRITER YES LIKE 150 CARDS) and build a box/sleeve to store them.







Basically, my idea was to capture some of my top interests--poems, simplicity (notecards, posterboard, spray paint, typing), errors (left some mess-ups and obvious corrections), and that think/feel combo. I'm really happy to have it done, but I'm really happy that I did it this way.

Here is another one:
On One Capability of Your Mouth
It is a good thing I think for you to say to people good job and nice shirt and you are real and I love you. I don’t care who they are, the highly educated like it, as do short people and shy people, especially the shy ones, and teachers and your dad. Go up to him and say Dad, you are nice. Thanks. Watch him turn to a puddle of pudding, mushy and great, because of you. Good job, I’d say if you did this and we could eat him together.

On Thanks

Certain things make the woahdometer turn up to 100, like marking foreheads and welcome signs with EXCITED EXCITED. I look at a beautiful face and I'm like you're beautiful and she says thanks, but really I'm the thankful one because (you know this) ugly things pop up like blood-shooting arteries, so it's nice to see beauty laying on your couch, breathing regularly. I forget sometimes that life can suck, taking a hospital visit or black tuxedo to remind me. Sleeping alone isn't so bad, but living alone is awful because 24 hours can be a short amount of time, but it can also be super long. I'm not thankful for what I used to be, like God and Reese's Cups, but man, I'm thankful for the human mouths that say kind words and the human eyes that see me live and the human hands that give and give. Perhaps, soon, I will do myself in, but right now, I'm thankful for not being alone.

On Communication

My Interpersonal Communication professor didn't explain assignments very well and went all grumpy dude when everyone wrote WTFJ? in a parade of emails. His name was Josh. I had a Josh moment the other day when I was yelling about the remote or the lack of cheese in this apartment or the disc to cloud ratio in the sky over the weekend. Oh sorry, you just didn't get the memo. I wish someone would have told me four years ago how easy being happy was. I don't need an how-to manual, I need people with voices that say calmly, I can't love you like that, but I can love you like this. Cool? Let me mold my voice to say, HEY LORD YOU THERE? I NEED LONGER ARMS PLEASE AND EARS LIKE FUNNELS IF YOU GOT SOME. Listen: I'm going to hug the world and let it talk about it's weekend until we all sleep satisfied.

6 PEOPLE TRYING TRYING TRYING

1. Tonight is the sweet sweet reading. Ryan Jeremy Elysia Layne Ashley and I. We reading words and trying to look cute and talking to people. These people are some of my best friends and I'm stoked. The flyer had a manatee or something with a tie, gun, and book of poems. I'm stoked about that too.

2. BEASTIE BOYS COMING TO THE HALL OF FAME. YES YES AND YES. Remember that song, where it starts with a sample like "What's another word for buried treasure? Why I think it's booty...booty..booty"? Yeah, that's nice.

3. More music talk: New No Age album out today. I hope Village Green has it. The songs they played live from it ruled big oh man. Here is a nice article about the origin of their name.

4. Another "On" Poem:
On Parents
I was watching a home video the other day, camping, I was two, my dad carrying a huge tub of Ninja Turtle action figures, my mom setting up her sticky plastic chair, pink and white striped, then my mini-matching one, teal and blue stripe. I play with the toys then join my mom on the chair, her reading some women’s magazine, me holding a newspaper upside down, while dad builds a fire. He asks if I want to go fishing later. Mom asks if I want ice cream later. I say, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, but let me finish the paper. They laugh and laugh.

5. The only time I really watch tv anymore is to watch Grey's Anatomy on DVD or documentaries. Documentaries I like a lot: Hoop Dreams, Man On Wire, the Fugazi one, and American Movie. Got anymore for me?

6. I've had some good conversations/social interactions in the past week. I like that. Talk to me, please.

The difference between rivers and poems is the thirst one quenches the other dissolves.

1. Steven D. Schroeder was nice to my questions here. Gave some cool insight into his poem, which is part of a manuscript that sounds awesome (see question 5).
2. Super stoked to be helping out with a reading with Jennifer L. Knox, Shanna Compton, and Peter Davis at BSU. Read about it here. Very pleased to be able to give a BSU student the chance to open for them.
3. We have all of this stuff--a printer, karaoke machine, towels, etc.--that we don't need on the floor of our spare room. Rummage? Where?
4.

Life Like Jello

1. School starts tomorrow. Okay. Cool classes on their way: Creative Nonfiction, Book Binding and Manifestos Senior Seminar, Spanish 3 (okay maybe not cool), The Broken Plate Literary Editing, and Experiments in Creative Writing. My head is filled with words and hands with paper.

2. Mary Miller has an awesome story called "Cedars Of Lebanon" up at The Collagist. She talked to me about it here.

3. Kyle Broyles has a nice little blog going, with a nice reminder to Muncie Drivers here.