Recent Search That Led to This Blog y mas
sad tearful gothic poetry that has been published
The funny part is that -- whomever -- stayed to read for 16 minutes. Musta found what s/he was lookin' for. (BWAHAHAHA!) Someone was once in search for Trueheart Fences in Montana, and stayed for 22. A bullet outa hell, if you ask me.
Wind.
~~~~~~
Been writing alot, exercises, these snippets -- maybe trying to get my mind off of yearly and recent & not so recent torrent of events. Justice and The Supreme. Power and the language of silence. Power-Over versus Power-With. Depleted Democracy.
I don't see a lot of movies. Going to a theater by myself is not something I like to do alone, so I don't, and my partners have all been homebodies. SO . . . I've discovered Netflix. I love it! It's for me. Especially since I've had my own movie rattling and reeling off in my head for a couple of decades (sigh...). Also, I just bought a bunch of used movies from a local video stores -- now that I look at them on the shelf: all bummers. (list to follow) It works well to read a really depressing book (Doestoevsky) in order to feel happy. I'm all about counting blessings: "las nubes se van pasando. . ." and all, but, I don't know, there's something about the primacy of the visual image.
One of the movies on the shelf was Hotel Rwanda. I thought I was steeled enough for the watch. I don't know. I spent a long time with silent tears for the history of the rest after the movie -- watching and not-watching the credits crawl. Knowing. Imag-in-ing. I had just reread the "Coffee" poem: so many poems, so many massacres to write. That was a while ago, probably around the time of the Publisher's Weekly review, something "up" -- and I still haven't gotten over it. Stalled in the reel. And the enthrall of Justice Lost.
The funny part is that -- whomever -- stayed to read for 16 minutes. Musta found what s/he was lookin' for. (BWAHAHAHA!) Someone was once in search for Trueheart Fences in Montana, and stayed for 22. A bullet outa hell, if you ask me.
Wind.
~~~~~~
Been writing alot, exercises, these snippets -- maybe trying to get my mind off of yearly and recent & not so recent torrent of events. Justice and The Supreme. Power and the language of silence. Power-Over versus Power-With. Depleted Democracy.
I don't see a lot of movies. Going to a theater by myself is not something I like to do alone, so I don't, and my partners have all been homebodies. SO . . . I've discovered Netflix. I love it! It's for me. Especially since I've had my own movie rattling and reeling off in my head for a couple of decades (sigh...). Also, I just bought a bunch of used movies from a local video stores -- now that I look at them on the shelf: all bummers. (list to follow) It works well to read a really depressing book (Doestoevsky) in order to feel happy. I'm all about counting blessings: "las nubes se van pasando. . ." and all, but, I don't know, there's something about the primacy of the visual image.
One of the movies on the shelf was Hotel Rwanda. I thought I was steeled enough for the watch. I don't know. I spent a long time with silent tears for the history of the rest after the movie -- watching and not-watching the credits crawl. Knowing. Imag-in-ing. I had just reread the "Coffee" poem: so many poems, so many massacres to write. That was a while ago, probably around the time of the Publisher's Weekly review, something "up" -- and I still haven't gotten over it. Stalled in the reel. And the enthrall of Justice Lost.
posted by Lorna Dee Cervantes at 11:37 AM
2 Comments:
You've got mail.
For the last few days, I've been revising a seminar paper I wrote to complete my Women & Gender Studies minor in undergrad. This led me to flipping through anthologies I've got, and I ran across you twice, in two different ones. And I wanted to say congratulations. That was fantastic.
Depressing books--i eat them for breakfast. Nothing like a depressing book to cure the blues. Love it!
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