Japanse New-Girl Monkey Network
A Small Pointer
In case you forgot about it, Geek Icon has been updated today with a new poem.
{ link me }For Lack of a Better Title
For some reason, I felt much more in a writing mood today. Part of the inspiration was a degree of enforced organization that was required by everyday living: organizing permission to repaint the house and have cable internet installed, checking up on some details for my visa, and so on, and so forth. The irony wasn't lost on me that for at least the past year, the same kind of activities were putting me into a creative and intellectual fugue state-- the growth and catharsis that writing used to bring had waned a lot, and I'd been starting to wonder if I should pursue other creative outlets apart from poetry and blogging. These ideas were further sparked by the interview with Steven Wright at The Onion AV Club, his thoughts on the creative process, and the difference between being creative in a more disciplined manner and being creative in an experimental, playful, and uncritical manner. On reflection, I was thinking that the first doesn't get very far without the second, and I'd definitely felt I'd been lacking the second-- that silly, child-like creativity that's just for myself-- for a while.
But then my brain just up and surprised me, filling me with a notion to start babbling on again, erasing all suspicion that I had to force out words that didn't really say anything. I think another inspiration was my dad, treading out into unknown territory, writing this really lovely piece on Aunt Ted-- the sincerity and depth of what he wrote, and also the newness and uncertainty about blogging, the fresh feeling of his posts and his willingness to attempt something that probably doesn't make much sense to him but seems to interest him nonetheless. Then, addressing an email message from my mom, got to thinking about American Gods (which I gave her for Christmas and she wanted to discuss) and the nature of worship and how we view media and technology. And from there, I was off wandering around other blogs, reading ideas about big global things like Columbia's fall from the sky (in my mind suddenly, vividly imagining the soft bodies of the astronauts becoming like glowing meteorites, the ignominy of the charred pieces being discovered by unsuspecting farmers in fields and homeowners in yards), and the trouble continuing to brew in the US regime's designs on Iraq, ideas about every day things, ideas, ideas, ideas, and suddenly my brain had some observation on all of them and wanted to jump back into the "conversation." Or, maybe more appropriately, I wanted to be included in the story again.
{ link me }Things I Like and Don't Like About the Little House in Enmore
Somebody practicing an alto sax in one of the houses behind the courtyard, liquid jazz notes floating in through the window.
Cosmo, the neighbor's dog, sniffing and whimpering hello through the fence when you greet her by name.
The lavender bush spilling out over the flower box behind the front gate, the astringent and sweet smell of lavender floating up as you brush past it on your way to the front door.
The cool feeling of terra cotta tiles on my feet in the kitchen that reminds me of my grandmother's house in Oxnard.
The light glowing through the etched glass of the front door in the evening, two soft, unfocused rectangles perceived at the end of the long, dark hall-- a feeling that confusingly combines the mood of a horror film and a simultaneous sense of comfort.
The poisonous, chemical smell still left in traces from the last tenants bug-bombing the house after they moved out.
Finding a very small slug lounging on the sink next to the cold water tap after having discovered glistening slug trails throughout the house in mysterious places.
Shiny brown cockroaches scuttling around the overgrown, ugly vines in the garden, and then appearing legs-up dead somewhere on the floor (cockroaches everywhere, though-- not just around the house-- just randomly walking down the street as if they were pedestrians).
The ugly, smelly, fleshy vines that have taken over a large part of the courtyard wall and the shed and the gutter above the kitchen.
The peeling paint of the hallway across from the bathroom, looking at it and feeling my fingers itch in anticipation of scraping it off the wall.
The lack of refridgerator, which should be solved tomorrow, and the blasé attitude toward a lack of fridge by Mr Wiggins, and eye-rolling that accompanies my anxiousness at getting a fridge-- the immense desire to have good food that won't spoil around the house, the ennui that currently accompanies having to either spend excessively on restaurant food or scarf down crappy junk food.
{ link me }