The problem with epiphanies Is they wear off. By definition Their magic Must dissipate. The overwhelming delight Of understanding Eventually gives way To the dull thrum of living. And you wonder Is it better to know The epiphany’s fleeting ecstasy Knowing the hollowness Once it’s gone? Or is it better To live in ignorance Of that which Now evades you?
Now that National Poetry Writing Month is over, I thought it would be cool to take a look back at what was achieved, what was learned, and what could be done better… not necessarily in that order.
So for those who don’t know, the goal is to write 30 poems in 30 days. I did not achieve that goal this year. I think I wrote 30 pieces of writing, but a few were not poems. I guess a couple could have been poems if I added more line breaks. But still, in the strictest interpretation of the rules of NaPoWriMo, I did fall short of the goal.
However, it seems pertinent to interrogate what the point of NaPoWriMo actually is. This is going to be different for different people. But to me the points are to write more, write better, and to develop a rhythm within yourself, both in the writing and in the production of the writing.
To this point, I feel that I succeeded. I definitely wrote more. And that was awesome. I wrote some utter garbage, but I also wrote some things that I am truly proud of. And I developed a new writing routine that really suits my life at this moment.
Since I decided to do the exercise publicly on WordPress, I got to meet a lot of cool people and got some really interesting feedback in the comments section. This was my favorite part of the project.
Now I feel empowered to go forward and write more stuff in public. I don’t know if I’m going to keep the same grueling schedule that NaPoWriMo demanded of me. But with my new routine and my new friends, I’m really looking forward to what happens next. As cheesy as that is.
Johnnie always told me UFOs are real and I alway told him I don’t care. “What does that have to do with the price of bread?” I’d say. It’s mathematically improbable that there is no other intelligent life in the universe. And it’s entirely possible that some other civilizations have visited ours. But who fucking cares? They’re obviously not doing anything worthwhile in my life, so fuck them. They’re just tourists. Johnnie is also a staunch atheist and he says that aliens are his god. And I think that’s really insightful. Because alien people (that is, people who believe strongly in aliens) believe that the aliens are going to save us in some way. Or that the acknowledgement of aliens in the broader culture is some sort of salvation in itself. And now the Pentagon has released footage confirming UFOs. It’s everything your crazy uncle ever wanted in the 90s. The truth isn’t out there anymore. It’s confirmed… if you believe what the Pentagon tells you. But what happens with that information? It’s like every other video that comes out about UFOs. You either believe it or you don’t or you don’t care. It doesn’t change anything. And the timing of the video is suspect. Suddenly when everybody is questioning the trajectory of governance in the face of crisis, video surfaces which is built for distraction. It’s convenient. And it doesn’t have anything to do with the price of bread.
I bought a web domain to have a go at being real. I’ve been unreal for a long time– living in odd places– places where people aren’t supposed to live… open mics message boards Twitter…
Now I live in palaces in the sun. Now I’m finally real. My words live in houses of the wholly realized.
Contrary to popular mythos there is love on the internet and it comes from knowing there’s a home for broken sentences and calcified syntax.
National Poetry Writing month takes its toll. 30 poems in 30 days. Content burnout is real.
I know a guy who lives in an adobe cottage in New Mexico, who lives contentedly, is madly in love, and writes like 3 poems a day. I don’t know how he does it.
1 poem a day for 1 month just about cracks me open. That’s why I’m making this diary entry metatext. I need a break. I need something easy.
It’s impossible to feel the muse all the time because she exacts a toll and takes more than she gives.
Better to replenish oneself periodically with a self-indulgent diary post. It may not be good reading, but it saves one from total burnout.