I’d like to say every blog post I’ve made up til now has been a quote after things a friend of mine has said. Like literally said, like orally, like vocally and I heard then type of said. Not this such thing as was typed to me said. Even though that is my preferred method of communication. Which I suppose isn’t ironic considering my art of choice, considering my current profession.
And I’d like to say most of those things I remembered and some I actually wrote down during conversation. No. I don’t have facetime. And yes I only really found out what that is maybe 3 months ago. And I suppose I’d really like to say that I won’t be using those as blog titles anymore. And yes, my manuscript name has changed (Doors) and probably will change again. And yes, I have sent to so so many places and I’m basically in wait mode. And I will apologize for making too much sense right now. I feel as though my mind hasn’t really been mine. I sometimes think of things then unthink them. And I moved and I have a cat and I essentially live in someones basement, but my ceilings are high and my floors are carpeted and between about 2pm-6pm I get really good sunlight.
But my life isn’t what’s really important or interesting. Even though what I see is my life. And in some ways what I discuss is my life. And in Chicago no one can really say sunlight is their lives. I feel like I live in Portland or England or some random other white place where it’s cloudy 80% of the year. Except for Chicago isn’t an island or a rainforest. Essentially Chicago tall phallic buildings and monument called “cloudgate” which I find ironic. I personally don’t need a reminder of how dreary it is here so so much.
And even when it’s not cloudy you can’t see the sky. I mean I suppose you can see. But there are no stars. Maybe 4. And 2 of those are probably planets. And I’m not counting the sun, because no, you can’t see the sun. Yes it beams down and boils the streets. But it fails to make the lake a “swimmable” temperature, hardly above 50 ever. And no I’m not counting the sun, because no, you can’t see it. And since you can’t see it, nor any other stars (except one, one exceptiooonal…exceptionaaaal or not) nor the moon just a planet or two. Would it be too far fetched to say there is no sky. That in Chicago there is no sky. That that maybe explains what’s wrong here. That that maybe explains the fear of going outside when the sun is “out” or when it gets dark. Because I feel like maybe that’s how they live in Portland, which again maybe goes to say there’s no sky in Portland, which goes to explain all these grunge bands of the 90’s.
And would it be to far to say that no one can name not even one thing that wasn’t better in the 90’s. Technology isn’t better, music isn’t better, movies aren’t better, watermelons had seeds and so did tomatoes, and I slept with my bedroom window open, and cars were made of steel, and things that were expensive that are now cheap still work if you bought them when they were expensive. I have a pencil sharpener that I got in ’93 that gives makes a point on a pencil. The fine crisp SAT scantron points. I was never taught for a standardized test. Except for the proficiency test in 4th and 9th grade I didn’t even have to take them. And the 4th grade I didn’t even have to pass, just had to do it. Kind of like CPS. But no more about Chicago.
And then there’s this. I think I love you. I think I really might mean it this time.
And then there’s poetry. And how much I did with it but it didn’t do for me back this past yearish. And should I talk about that (probably not…then don’t son…don’t…hold easy).
And here’s something for your tongue and a lick above your eyelash. Vines inked into your side and under your bridge I see a skyline. And maybe yes. And maybe so. And. Maybe red pants and backwards bicycle handlebars. In medias res we both fell asleep.
Before this the last thing I wrote was a prayer. As much of a prayer as DMX ever did. Because we always knew he was crazy.
And I don’t know what I’m going to do next year. Like legit have no clue. Like when I mean next year I really mean in Aug, but if you’re a writer or in education or in academia, but not a writer or educator per say, you already knew that.
And I fo realz gotta get to know ya:
And this is from ’01, which in some senses (at least musically) was still the 90’s. For me red 1989 Dodge Daytona, after market removable tape deck and of course stars which means of course sky. Then at least there was a limit. I don’t know how to gauge things anymore.